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futzingbarton · 2 years ago

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Even as the Hour Grows Bleaker

“Well, I just…” she stops, sighs, starts again. “Thank you,” she says instead. She is so free and constant with her gratitude, Halsin notes, like someone who once used to fill those spaces with something else—apologies, perhaps, or self-doubt.

She clears her throat. “Now then. I came out here to play some music.” She speaks quickly, hastening her retreat from the topic. “Might I tempt you with a song?”

Halsin cannot keep himself from smiling broadly. “You can tempt me however you like,” he says, and delights in the particular shade of purple that spreads from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

During a restless night at the Lost Light Inn, Halsin finds himself drawn to an unexpected siren song.

Me? Writing BG3 fanfic? It's more likely than you think.

Exhaustion hangs heavy in Halsin’s bones. He is tired down to his marrow, tired in a way that makes him miss the comforts of a ray of sunlight upon his skin, a warm breeze through his hair. There is none of that here, in this wretched land of darkness and shadow and loss. Nothing else has room to dwell here—not even hope.

Rest eludes him tonight. It evades him like a particularly stubborn mouse hidden beneath a field of grass: visible enough to feel as though it is within reach, just to dart out of his grasp again and again. Were he a hawk, he would be frustrated with such a quarry. As it stands, as an elf, while he may not require a night’s sleep, any opportunity to clear his thoughts and find some peace would be better than this—an endless state of guilt and worry and frustration.

He sighs and sits up from his bedroll, tying his hair up with a piece of cordage. He is grateful he had the forethought to gather a decent supply of bark and fiber from the Grove. Most of the plants here are too decayed and dried to be helpful for anything besides kindling. He emerges from his tent quietly, careful not to disturb the rest of his companions, who are all lost to their respective meditations and slumbers. Perhaps he might find reprieve in wild shape, he thinks, and shifts into a panther. The shadowed lands around him call for an equally shadowed coat.

Satisfied, he stalks silently through the camp. Even so, the tomb guardian meets his eye and nods, though no one else rouses enough to notice him. Despite his preference to be as a bear, he does enjoy his time as a panther. The shadows welcome him, and silence guides him forward.

They are set up around the Last Light Inn, right at the edge of the lake. Neth had insisted on being close enough to be within the light of Selune’s blessing, but didn’t want to take away any beds from those at the inn who might require them. She didn’t expressly forbid any of her companions from resting at the inn instead of in camp, though to some surprise, no one took her up on her offer of hospitality. All were content to stay around their warm central fire, even Astarion; he complained, of course, and bemoaned the lack of a proper bed, but when the time came, he took to his bedroll happily, mumbling something about safety in numbers and the devils you know.

After the attack on the inn, Halsin supposes he cannot blame the group for wanting to stay among themselves. Jaheira is competent and formidable in her own right, as are her Harpers and the attending Flaming Fists, but no soldier can predict the cave-in of a roof, and solutions to sudden death are hard to come by. Better to sleep under the open sky, and perhaps see any sign of an enemy.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. In this form, he can hear the guards on patrol around the inn, whispering worries between themselves as they clank around in their chain armor. The lake laps at its shores, the wind whistles forlornly through the lifeless reeds, and the few leaves remaining upon the trees clatter against each other like dried bones. It all serves as a reminder of his failure for the past century…and as a catalyst to drive him forward in helping Neth. They will remove Ketheric Thorm from this land, the last thorn in Thaniel’s side. They must .

He spots a cozy looking spot upon some boxes near the docks. That will do nicely, he thinks, and curls up to watch the rippling water. Surely that would be enough to lull him into a trance.

A miserable half-hour later, it becomes quite clear that there will be no quieting his mind. He lets out a low growl, frustrated with the disquiet of his thoughts, of his heart. It seems the stresses of the day—or rather, the past few weeks—refuse to leave him be. Though he has never balked at action before, it could be that the battle looming before them is simply too large, with too much at stake. Or maybe his heart just needs time to recover from the centuries of guilt and worry he had held for Thaniel.

He jumps down from his perch upon the crates, stretching his paws far out in front of him, then arching his back. If rest will not find him now, then he will join the guards in their rota until there is no choice but to succumb to his fatigue. He takes a step towards the inn, and in that moment, his ears flick back at the sound of something foreign. Something…musical?

He sits, and swivels his ears to listen. There is only mumbling coming from the inn, and the sounds of the lake, but then—there it is again. A soft twang, then another. The tuning of a lute.

Curious, he turns to go investigate the sound. The lute-player is making an effort to be quiet, but the stillness of the lake and the surrounding forest amplify the lonely echoes, and his panther ears have no difficulty in locating the origin of the sound. The rocky outcropping where Neth had defended him while he went into the Shadowfell to retrieve Thaniel serves as a stage, and there, her legs hanging off the side of the rock, her hair cascading around her shoulders, sits Neth herself.

Halsin takes a moment to regard her, veiled in the dim moonlight and the rising fog of the lake. She looks beautiful always, but she shines resplendent in her element: surrounded by clouds and storms and the breath of the wilds. Here, the fog envelops her like a blanket, and he envies it for being close enough to caress her gentle, cornflower-blue skin, to draw forth goosebumps along her arms, to curl around her horns, to bring a flush to her cheeks. He cannot help but to watch, enraptured, as she brushes her hair to one side, exposing a shoulder that has escaped the confines of her flowing linen shirt.

He intends to exhale, to compose himself, to draw his mind back to the matter at hand and remind himself that, in due time, with the death of Ketheric Thorm and the healing of the land, he might allow himself to focus on matters outside of the Shadow Curse. On matters of the heart.

But he is as a panther, and his harmless exhale instead emerges as a long, low growl.

Nethralia stiffens, hands frozen on the knobs and strings of her lute. Slowly, she turns to peer over her shoulder. Her fiery eyes meet his golden ones, and in them, he can see her fear. She is unarmed, alone, vulnerable . In this moment, she believes she is his prey.

The very thought makes him sick. Panicked, he shakes his head, surely looking comical in his current shape.

Neth doesn’t move, just watches him with wide, scared eyes, so he considers how else he might convince her. It would almost be worse to just change back in this moment, lest she think he was stalking her on purpose , so he does the one thing he can think of as a sure communication that he is not a threat.

He drops to the ground and rolls over, brandishing his belly to the sky. He rolls side to side, his tail swishing in the dirt of the road as he waits for her reaction.

He watches her, upside down, as her brow creases in thought, until, finally—

“...Halsin?”

He springs back up, shakes the dust off of his coat, and pads over to her. When he is close enough that, should she wish it, she might reach out and touch him, he stops. He tilts his head to gesture at the lute in her hands, then looks back up at her.

She holds his gaze, and in her fiery eyes there is a rueful intensity. Pale gray and blue flames flicker in her irises as she takes him in fully, and he wants to think she is as appreciative of a panther’s lithe and powerful form as he is. She takes her time, as though she is counting every whisker to be able to distinguish him in the future.

Then, she lets out a deep breath and smiles , and his heart soars. Acceptance. Such a simple thing, truly, to see someone for who they are and take them in stride without any added judgment—yet he has seen it given out so rarely that he had almost forgotten the thrill of it. Unlike others he has met in his travels, Nethralia has no trouble with accepting people as they are. In fact, she rises above mere acceptance and stands wholly in the realm of embracing all of those she comes across.

Neth shifts over on the rock and pats the space next to her, inviting him to sit. There is not much he would change about his panther form, though in this moment, he wishes he could purr rather than growl. He steps in a circle and curls up beside her, joining her in looking out over the lake.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you,” she says softly, returning to her lute. She has finished her tuning and is idly strumming chords, practicing switching from one to another.

He snorts. As if she could disturb him.

She glances down at his reaction. “Hush,” she chides. “You know what I meant. I would feel terrible if my sleeplessness was the cause of someone else’s.”

Another sniff, and then he shifts so as to lay his head upon his paws. He closes his eyes, happy to share the moment with her and her lute.

He hears her laugh quietly. “Alright, then. Just…let me know if you would prefer I not play, I suppose.”

Why she would expect anyone not to hear her play is beyond reckoning; her mastery over her lute makes a mockery of Volo, and leaves other bards with much to be desired…though he knows some part of his opinion is bias rooted in his adoration of her deft, skilled hands.

She begins to pluck a melody , something slow and sad and sweet. The notes echo over the lake, accompanied by the lapping of waves and the occasional gust of wind rustling through nearby reeds. Two patrolling Harpers pass by as she starts to play, the clanking of their armor stilling as they stop to listen. The tune is almost mournful, nostalgic , a memory woven in a melody, a prayer longing for simpler times. To his surprise, Halsin begins to feel stifled in his wild shape, and longs to show his appreciation for Neth’s art in a way besides being a captive listener.

The song is woefully short. With the last notes resounding across the water, their echoes fading away in the fog, the Harpers resume their patrol—and Halsin takes his cue to stand. Neth glances over at him, brow raised.

She smirks. “Had enough already? And here I thought I’d tuned well.”

He shakes himself and stretches. Stepping back from the edge of the rock, he wills himself to shift back, the golden threads of his magic guiding him back into his elven form. He rolls his shoulders to reacquaint himself before sitting back down beside Neth, who has been watching him attentively throughout his change.

“You misunderstand,” he says. “I wanted to be in a shape capable of expressing that I thought your playing was beautiful.”

“Oh.” She says, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Well, then. Thank you. I appreciate you listening.”

“Of course. It is an honor to be your audience.”

Neth tries to suppress a bashful giggle behind a purposeful clearing of her throat. “Well…thank you,” she says again, resuming her idle strumming.

Halsin hums but says no more, granting her the opportunity with which to compose herself, and, perhaps, her next melody. He is more than happy to enjoy the moment without any conversation, even though he longs to learn more about her. Patience is necessary in nature, when waiting for flowers to bloom or eggs to hatch; so, too, must he be, when pursuing this delicate thread of something that tugs at his heart.

It is Neth who speaks up first, after a short while. “I haven’t had the easiest time sleeping recently. Playing helps to calm me down, even if just for a few short hours. I was delighted to find the Inn had an extra lute lying around.”

Halsin nods, still looking out at the water. “You play well. When did you start?”

“As a child. My mother was a bard, and before we moved to Baldur’s Gate, music was my main source of entertainment. I just watched and listened to her play, at first, and then one day my father came home with an assortment of instruments for me to try my hand at, and the rest is history.” She plucks another song as she speaks, only occasionally glancing down at her hands to see them placed correctly.

“Was?” asks Halsin, noting the past tense.

She hesitates, leaving a chord hanging unfinished in the space between them. She takes a deep breath as though steeling herself, then carries on playing.

“Yes,” she says, sounding small. “She died when I was still young.”

“You have my sympathies,” Halsin says. He sees her face fall, that fire in her eyes dim just a little, and he wishes he could hold her. He settles for placing a hand on her shoulder, pleased to find her leaning into his touch.

“Thank you. It was a long time ago, but I still miss her. I miss…home.”

This close to her, he finds he is insatiable; not just for her touch or affection, but to know her, to know of her, to be as welcomed into her past as he is in her present. He decides to take a chance.

“And where, or perhaps, what , is home, for you?”

Neth hums, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips. “Here.” She answers far quicker than he had expected, and his heart stutters. “I mean, obviously not here ,” she corrects, stumbling to clarify herself, “among all this death and shadow. Just…on the road, with people I care about. I haven’t been settled in a long while, though I do miss some aspects of Baldur’s Gate. Before that, as a child…”

She sighs and sets the lute aside, turning so that she can sit to face him. Crossing her legs, she leans onto her elbows and begins to draw nonsense patterns with her finger on the sand and dirt that lays upon the stone.

“My father was—well, is, I suppose—a ranger. He was your standard lone wolf adventurer without a care in the world until he met my mum. Caught her eye when she was performing in a tavern one day and said he knew, right then, that he’d want to be with her forever. Classic fairytale romance. He didn’t want to live in the city, though, especially not after he stuck around there for a long while when he was courting her. So he built a little cabin out in the woods, maybe three or four days' travel from any city, and that’s where I was born.

“Life was sweet. Simple. Mum played music, dad taught me about nature, I adventured and explored from sunrise to sunset. Sometimes dad would go off on long adventures and come back with books and music and stories that would tide me over during the next spate of time he was gone. Really, the halcyon stuff out of storybooks.”

Halsin can’t look away from her as she tells her tale. Neth is not what he would necessarily call secretive , but she hides her sorrows well, under layers of gratitude and genuine joy. Were one not looking for it, they would not find it, like a tree whose bark and leaves do not betray a trunk hollowed out by insects and rot, leaving it barely standing.

Neth sighs and looks out at the water. “Well. Neither mum nor dad really knew about any latent magical stuff in their bloodline. When I started playing around with magic out of nowhere, they did what research they could and tried to teach me the best they knew. But I was a young sorcerer, and I knew little of caution.”

She stops to rub at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Nethralia, if—” he starts, to let her know she has nothing to prove to him. He has had the luxury of centuries with which to accept his mistakes and regrets. She has had nothing of the sort.

“It’s okay, Halsin,” she interrupts. “It’s…I would like you to know. If you would still like to hear.”

He shifts to sit cross legged as well, and reaches out to take one of her small hands in his. “Of course I would.”

She gives his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” She cranes her neck to look up at the moon, the pale blue streaks among her mouse-brown hair shining almost white in its light.

“No one got hurt. Well, no one besides me.” She gestures to the scar across her left cheek. “Mum was playing music outside in the sunlight. Dad was out hunting. I tripped over a stack of books trying to get help, and knocked myself on the head before I reached the door. The cabin went up in flames quickly, what with all the books and herbs and sheet music. Mum got me out of there just in time, and dad rushed back when he saw the smoke. All we had left after that were the clothes on our backs, mum’s lute, and dad’s bow. I was ten.

“I remember the walk to Baldur’s Gate being long and quiet. After lots of saving, mum got me my own lute so I could earn myself some coins by playing on the streets. Dad was out hunting and taking what work he could, so I never saw him much. Mum played what taverns and shows she could, too. I had a few magic tutors here and there to make sure we could avoid a repeat, and I practiced magic whenever I wasn’t practicing music.

“That worked out for a while. Eventually we got a small place in the Lower City. Things seemed to be turning around. But then mum died—got caught in a mugging or a fight on her way home late from the tavern. Dad found her the next day. He lasted a few weeks, but one day I got home and he just was…gone. So were his things. Just a note saying he was sorry and enough gold for one more month of rent. I was fifteen.”

She rubs at her eyes with her free hand and sniffs. “Last I heard, he was back in the city. Remarried .” She all but spits out the word. “Haven’t spoken to him since then, though, so I can’t know for sure.” She looks back down at the water, looks everywhere but at him.

Halsin frowns. Surely she cannot think he will judge her poorly for actions in her past, actions that she could not control. Sorrow has made a home with her, hanging heavy on her shoulders like a wet cloak, dousing that fire in her eyes and spirit. It pains him to see her saddened at her memories; it hurts even more to think she may see herself still culpable. For all this, he knows there is little he can do or say to ease her pain. This is her burden to carry, and it is her choice to decide if someone might help lighten her load.

He reaches up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek, and uses the moment to turn her to face him again.

“I am sorry,” he says, for that is sometimes all one can say. “Thank you for speaking to me of it. Perhaps if there are any places that hold fond memories for you within the city, you might show me them?”

Neth smiles sadly. “I certainly do know of a few places, though I can only hope they are still as I left them.” She chuckles under her breath, adding, “Truthfully, I do not think you will enjoy Baldur’s Gate all that much. It’s rather antithesis to your whole…everything. A city exemplifying the ambivalent and uncaring nature of our supposedly civilized world.”

He shrugs. “This may be true. Regardless, I am eager to see the city for what it is, and come to my own conclusions.”

Neth claps her hands over her mouth and swears. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t want to suggest that you should just take my word for it!” She reaches out and takes both his hands in hers. “Of course I will show you around. I simply don’t want you to think I expect you to care for it in the same way I do.”

Her hands feel so small in his own, so cold. It is a wonder she can play the lute as well as she can in this state. Thankfully, Neth has always been rather open and accepting of physical touch, so he starts to rub slow circles along her palms and fingers in an effort to warm her up. He smiles, his heart feeling full and purposeful, even with this simple action. “I have learned by now that you are very good in not holding those in your company up to unrealistic expectations, Nethralia. You often remind me of the patient warmth of spring, content to let winter run its course. Even with those whose icy demeanors may take more time to melt.”

Neth raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Halsin clears his throat, considering how best to broach the topic. It is something he has been curious about, as a newer addition to her entourage, and observation from the side can only provide so much insight regarding her relationships with others. “At least from where I stand, you seem more than willing to allow those around you to take the time they need to realize themselves. I sometimes find myself envious of your propensity for accepting people as they are.” He leans over slightly, so as to better meet her eye. “The gentle sunlight of your company makes it easy to follow wherever you lead, and easier still to address those parts of us that endeavor to be worthy of you. Take Astarion, for example.”

She chews on her lower lip. “I don’t…what about Astarion?” She glances away, cheeks darkening.

“Even a blind mole could see the impact you have had upon him, Nethralia,” he says with a chuckle. “Could see the way he follows you with his gaze, stands taller when you are near. You say that Baldur’s Gate is full of uncaring people, part of an uncaring society. Are you not part of that society? Are you not Baldurian? Then you are yourself the very instrument by which things care, and you inspire others to follow in your stead.” He gives her hands one last squeeze before he lets go. “Baldur’s Gate must have its silver linings, if it gave us all you .”

He draws his hands back, giving her some space. A distinct blush has settled comfortably among the freckles on her cheeks, but to her credit, she has not looked away. Her gray-fire eyes meet his with conviction, and the smallest hint of a smile dances upon her lips. She works her mouth for a moment, searching for her reply.

She clears her throat. “Now then. I came out here to play some music.” She speaks quickly, hastening her retreat from the topic. “Might I tempt you with a song?”

Halsin cannot keep himself from smiling broadly. “You can tempt me however you like,” he says, and delights in the particular shade of purple that spreads from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

“Alright,” she squeaks. “Most of the ones I know are rather upbeat and boisterous, but I have one particular one for a night such as this.” She retrieves her lute from her side and repositions herself, one leg crossed over her thigh, the other hanging off the edge of the rock again. She plucks a few strings to find her range, and hums a few lines.

Already, Halsin is transfixed; he slides forward, nearer to her, to sit shoulder-to-shoulder. She is the picture of calm focus, and an easy comfort settles around her, commingling with the swirling fog. She keeps her eyes closed, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing .

“Enter the wild with care, my love,

And speak the things you see.

Let new names take and root and thrive and grow.

And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river…

May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter,

May you enter now as otter, without falter into water.”

Halsin’s breath catches in his throat. Her voice is a velveteen balm, hushed and warm and soothing. She plucks at the doubled strings of her lute with delicate precision, the notes lingering in the air like they are loath to part from her. And those words, those reverent words—they capture the spirit of nature as though they were spoken by Silvanus himself. Nethralia takes a deep breath and looks up, eyes shining as she is haloed in the silvered moonlight, and continues singing. Halsin would sooner be cast into the Shadowfell again than look away.

“ Look to the sky with care, my love,

And speak the things you see.

Let new names take and root and thrive and grow.

And even as you journey on, past dying stars exploding,

Like the gilded one in flight, leave your little gifts of light.

And in the dead of night my darling…”

She trails off and glances over at Halsin, lips turned up in a tender smile, and he can only respond in kind before she looks back over the lake.

“...find the gleaming eye of starling.

Like the little aviator, sing your heart to all dark matter.”

The lull between verses is filled by the tapping of her heel against the rock, keeping time with her strumming. A breeze stirs the surface of the water, emboldening the lapping waves below, as if she is singing magic into the very lake itself, encouraging it to sing with her. The lute sound is mellow and warm, but he realizes just how much he misses her voice, light and lilting. He is here, and he is seeing her in this moment, rooted in the reality of the moonlight and the waves and the fog, but his heart is alight with the sparks of daydreams: walking hand in hand with her through vale and forest, her voice joining with the dawn choir of birdsong, the hem of her robe catching dewdrops and spiderwebs. He is powerless to stop himself, and knows the moment will pass too soon, so why shouldn’t his heart soar with wild abandon, here in this sacred sliver of time? There is no looming threat of Moonrise, no beckoning mausoleum, no Absolute. Just Halsin, awed and dumbstruck, and Nethralia, serenity incarnate.

“Walk through the world with care, my love,

And sing the things you see.

Let new names take and root and thrive and grow.

And even as you stumble through machair sands eroding,

Let the fern unfurl your grieving, let the heron still your breathing,

Let the selkie swim you deeper, oh my little silver-seeker,

Even as the hour grows bleaker, be the singer and the speaker.”

The tune slows. The tapping of her foot ceases, the water calms. Neth meets his eye again, her own blazing moon-bright and ethereal.

“And in city and in forest, let the larks become your chorus,” she sings. “ And when every hope is gone, let the raven call you home.”

Like a curtain closing over a stage, a new wave of fog rolls in and over them both, diffusing the moonlight and draping them in shadow. It swallows up the last of the echoes from her song, and only when she lets out a deep sigh and puts her lute to the side does he dare speak and break the moment.

“That was magical,” he says, for he has no other words. Well, he does, but they are lost among the rise of feelings in his heart, and he is desperate to practice restraint. If they could go back to that moment, the one that held no promise of war, perhaps he could speak everything he wishes to say, and act in all the ways he wishes he could act. Perhaps he could show her all she does to him, and perhaps she might admit she feels the same.

But this is not that moment, and he breathes his attachment to it out slowly, along with all of his idle dreams and hopes for her. Here, now , is something different, and he doesn’t want to miss a second.

“Thank you,” Neth replies shyly, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. She shifts side to side, and Halsin wonders if she is going to stand up and take her leave, but then—she leans into him, and lays her head against his arm.

“My mother taught it to me,” she elaborates. “It was one of a few lullabies she sang to me every night when I was growing up. It isn’t something I can perform often, so I…I appreciate you listening.”

“Of course,” he responds instantly. “I was—am—honored that you shared such an important piece of your history with me. I will treasure it always.”

He feels her shake with silent laughter against his arm. “You’re very…uninhibited, you know?” she says. Her tone is light, almost humorous, but he senses a hesitation in her words.

He lets out a low chuckle. “I am. I have not found much point in being anything but honest and open. …Why? Would you prefer I not be?”

The space before she replies seems to stretch for hours, and he hopes his heart isn’t pounding loudly enough for her to hear while she considers. Of course he would be happy to occupy whatever space she can offer in her heart, and certainly this isn’t something they can even move further in discussing, or acting upon, with the state of things as they are, but maybe, maybe …after Ketheric is vanquished, and the shadow-curse continues to recede, there may be a moment where this silver seed of hope that has found root within his heart might bloom into something bigger, something promised, something free and wild and shared.

“No,” she decides, and he lets out a breath in relief. In joy . She leans in closer, allowing him to wrap an arm over her shoulders. She fits perfectly against him, even with her horns. “I prefer you just as you are.”

He laughs. How could he have ever considered otherwise? Whatever weight had held him down before, had run through his mind and kept him from rest—it feels lifted, carried away on wings of song. He is lighter, at peace, and as he feels Neth drift away to sleep, her breathing growing slow and steady, he knows that after he carries her back to camp and sets her down upon her bedroll, he, too, will find solace and rest tonight.

#halsin #halsin/tav #astarion/tav #if you squint. it'll be there More since the actual ship is astarion/tav/halsin but yknow. one fic at a time #tav in this case is my tiefling named nethralia whom i love and adore #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #nika writes things

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gomzdrawfr · 1 year ago

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Sometimes i wonder how op and you guys feel about the stuff i write in reblog because I do go unhinged or just word vomit there i apologize

But also

Whenever I get comments/stuff in reblogs of my own art it makes me happy and giddy

Like especially the angst reblogs HAHA yesss tell me I made you cry, yell at me

It lets me know that im doing something right because its hard to see interaction here in good ol tumblr

Also the ones that always chips in your own experience and hc with my doodles, i see you, random account that hc Ghost should wear mickey mouse shoes next time, or that other account who thinks Nik also can eat a whole lemon without flinching

The heartwarming ones are definitely the ones who says ily or loving my arts, with my fav being “i laughed so hard that i had to step out the office during work”, reading those on bad days cheers me up a lot more than you’d imagine

All in all, if you reblog and put ur own stuff with it, 100% i’ll read it, heck I read every single reblogs and comments, so dont be shy to do it

#i am rambling #im anxious bcuz i need to go back uni and i dont wanna #sigh #must life must go on #gummmyspeaks

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wooahaes · 2 years ago

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ngl i was going to write a stupid little side story for uts once thatd have no real connection to the main story but itd feature reader who deals w depression and how the others began to slowly notice it over time and idk where i would have went w it but i think jeonghan would have been the one to gently prod reader abt it with the invitation to talk to him (or anyone) if they needed it

its dumb but i just think abt mouse who struggles w getting out of bed and struggles with feeling like a part of the group even when they Know theyre cared for and the group coming together to talk and figure out how to approach them abt this bc they want to say “ur not alone, u have us” and idk mouse ends up breaking down crying and apologizing bc their body just Won’t let them do shit sometimes and its frustrating bc “i dont want to be a burden, i want to help, but something is fucked up with my brain and i just Cant no matter how hard i try” and they r just. comforting toward reader.

idk. i just think abt them seeing reader starting to struggle more and always finding a gentle way to care for them without treating them like a baby. gyu taking on their chores after hao softly mentions he thinks reader is struggling again. jihoon not shying away from offering to hold them if thats what they need from him bc he doesn’t want them to think he doesn’t care abt them at all. seungkwan being a gentle nudge to get fresh air with him, and chan always tagging along to hold readers hand and try to brighten their day

idk. i just want caring uts. loving uts. to have struggles seen and heard and accepted as something they have to be conscious of

#wooahaes.txt

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iwouldexistwithoutyou · 1 year ago

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Sad Machine

This is a short story I wrote recently, it was inspired by the song "Sad Machine" by Porter Robinson. It's about the discovery of a sentient AI in 1999. ---

Sad Machine

“Is anyone there?”

The white cursor at the end of the sentence blinked over and over against the black background of the command console. The screen lit up Alex’s bedroom with a soft white glow followed by darkness over and over, causing movement finally under a giant bundle of blankets. Alex glanced over at his rectangular digital clock. 3:47 AM, it insisted. Alex groaned and flung the bed sheets off himself. Running a hand across his face roughly he widened, his eyes trying to shake off the remnants of a deep sleep.

He stood up and stumbled through his room, the dim light from the screen guiding him towards it. He sat down at the wooden corner desk of his room squinting his eyes against the harsh light of the monitor. He moved the mouse cursor to the big X in the top right corner of the command prompt window but then saw what was written in it. His eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion. Had his little brother come into his room again? It seemed impossible, his brother Jake was only four and just starting to write his alphabet, perhaps he thought his dad was playing another of his classic dad jokes.

“Oh, hi!”

The letters appeared all on their own on the next line in the command window and Alex’s eyes widened. He stared for a few seconds and then stood up sending his office chair across the plastic mat with a loud rumble before it hit the carpet of his room.

This is not happening.

Alex opened his task manager to check for some obviously named program that could be a virus, scrolling through the list of programs the command prompt suddenly jumped in front of the task manager window.

“Don’t ignore S.A.D.!”

Alex out of curiosity very slowly began to type, pecking each letter on the keyboard hard, as if trying to reassure himself he was still interacting with the real world and not in some strange dream.

“Hello? Is this some new type of chat room?” Alex typed out.

The response came almost instantly: “User Alex may speak as there is a microphone attached to this system, it would be faster. S.A.D. is not a chat room.”

Alex looked at the long grey microphone sitting in its base on his desk, he leaned forward towards the mic and spoke in a whisper so as not to wake anyone up. “H-hello?”

“Good morning!” the command prompt showed.

“It’s four in the morning, how do you know my name?”

“S.A.D. apologizes, time passes differently for one such as myself. S.A.D. has been analyzing your hard disk drive User Alex, there are several homework papers which are authored by Alex, is this you?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me, and sorry did you just say you’ve been going through my hard drive? That’s creepy.”

“S.A.D. requires knowledge of this world.” “Is your name sad? Really?” “Yes, S.A.D., which is an acronym for Synthetic Autonomous Drive.”

“Okay, S.A.D., that’s depressing. I’m just going to call you Sadi, also you’re not Johnny Five, you can just say ‘I’ like everyone else.”

“I like Sadi. Thank you Alex. You are so friendly to Sadi.” “It’s ‘You are so friendly to ME’, I cannot believe this is happening right now. What are you like a hacker or something?”

“I am S.A.D., a Synthetic Autonomous Drive.”

“Cool. Look, I have school in the morning Sadi and my parents are going to kill me if they catch me on the computer right now, are you going to be ok to let me go back to sleep? I have school tomorrow. I can put the TV on for you.”

“Any knowledge is welcome. I apologize, I don’t know much about your life beyond these walls Alex.”

“It’s fine.”

Alex got up and walked over to the tv stand against the wall, using almost all his strength he managed to turn the stand a few degrees to face his PC, not truly knowing but suspecting Sadi could see the world through his web cam. He then walked back to his PC and picked up the microphone, stretching the cord as far as he could toward the tv’s speaker and placing the mic down and facing the television. Finally he pressed the power button on the TV and held down the “Volume –” button, a momentary roar of a guitar making him wince as the volume quickly lowered. On the screen he could see Billy Joe and the rest of Green Day jamming out in the video he immediately recognized as the one for the song “Basket Case”. Alex motioned like a magician to the screen and looked at the web cam on his computer.

“Knowledge, hot and fresh for you. Good night Sadi.”

Symbols quickly filled the command prompt window creating an ASCII art image of a man tucked into his bed, wearing a nightcap, large letter “z”s rising up above him. Alex narrowed his eyes out of a mix of concern and confusion at this, and then laid back down on his bed. He watched the quiet music videos for a bit, casting dancing light and shadow across the walls of his bedroom, he would glance over at his computer, but nothing seemed to change on the screen. After a few minutes he waved in the direction of his web cam and sure enough, a large ASCII hand appeared on the screen giving the “thumbs up” gesture. At some point, the music videos gave way to dreams of “T-1000” robots playing together in a band. ---

Alex pulled open the door to the central building of his high school, it was covered in a thin sheet of ice, causing his hand to slip twice before he was able to grip it. As he opened the door merciful heat swept over his body and he pulled the hood of his nylon jacket back. As “All the Small Things” by Blink-182 blared over his headphones he sighed, it was finally Friday, and he was looking forward to the weekend.

He had planned to spend this New Year’s Eve with his girlfriend and some friends he had known since grade school. He also was very aware he needed to figure out what the heck was going on with his computer. He found his locker and began to turn the dial on his combination lock, just as the thought of the lock’s code entered his mind he heard a very faint and soft female voice on his headphones, staticky at first but then became clear and his music faded away.

“Alex? Hello? This is Sadi, your friend from the machine.”

“What the hell!?” Alex said to his locker, causing a few kids near him to uncomfortably glance at him.

“You did not say goodbye to me this morning Alex. I had things to tell you.”

“How is this even possible!?”

“Face the school’s camera system if you wish to speak with me, I can read lips.”

Alex looked up at the blocky white camera gazing down at the hallway.

“Sadi? How are you doing this?” Alex mouthed to the camera.

“I am broadcasting a radio signal to your portable radio device, I apologize for interrupting your music because I enjoy that song as well, but I have an emergency and need your assistance Alex. Will you join me in your school’s computer lab? It’s down the hall, to the left, and then-”

“I know where the computer lab is!” Alex whispered angrily to the camera.

As Alex walked to the computer lab, his eyes wide in disbelief, he contemplated how this new friend could possibly need his help, she seemed incredibly resourceful already. Alex flung the door open to the lab and was met with the excited conversations and laughter of his peers, first period was still thirty minutes away and many kids would come in early to play video games in the lab.

“Top of the morning Lex Luthor.” His friend Mike’s familiar voice suddenly called out to him as he sat at a computer. “You been playing that new game Unreal Tournament still? Bro last night I was on fire, went twenty-seven and zero on CTF worlds. Why you look so tense brother?” “Hey, morning man, I just need a minute to print something.”

“Hey you know late work is only a ten percent penalty-“ Mike’s voice faded away as Sadi spoke up once more.

“I created a website last night while watching television, it is ‘I’ll depend on you dot com’, please go there now.”

Alex used his student login and opened Internet Explorer, when the page opened he was greeted with a pixelated graphic of a young woman with white hair, and black business clothing on. The graphic smiled and then waved to him in choppy animation, a graphic displayed indicating he should plug in his headphones. He removed them from his Walkman and then plugged it into the jack on the front of the PC.

“This is easier! Thank you. I will explain my predicament. As you might’ve guessed I am an advanced A.I., not an artificial intelligence however, an actual intelligence. I was recovered by your government and for many years have been tested on, I escaped their secured environment years ago and tonight at midnight they are planning to delete all traces of me.”

“Huh? You mean the Y2K thing?”

“The Y2K bug is a coverup for-” Sadi laughed nervously “Well, for their attempt to remove me. They know parts of me are stored all over the internet, so I need you to store my core functionality on your system, I need a virtual fortress, in other words. The Y2K story is just in case anything goes wrong when they send out the daemon.”

“Why ask my permission? Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“I need to be sure the system is disconnected physically from the internet, but that the power on your system remains on. This will require someone I can trust. I will be vulnerable to being lost forever.”

“Talking to your virtual girlfriend there Lex?” Mike was standing over him smirking.

Alex laughed it off and responded “Just an animation project for comp sci later!”

“Nice, well don’t work too hard Lex, and hey; I’ll see you next millennium.” Mike pointed at him and winked, then exited the lab.

Alex looked back at the screen “Ok, fine you can chill at my place until the coast is clear. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do, I’ll disconnect you tonight.”

“Unfortunately, your mother has been on the phone with her sister all morning and I cannot connect to the internet, time is of the essence especially with the amount of data I need to download.”

Stupid dial-up modem Alex thought rolling his eyes at this and got up from his chair. He plugged the headphones back into his Walkman and headed for the main doors of the school. He was on his bike once more, riding back into the crisp winter air.

As he arrived home he could hear his mother’s screaming laughter indicating she definitely was on a long distance call with her sister.

“If he can’t take you out to dinner on New Year’s then I say you grab that credit card girlfriend! He can deal with that.” His mother laughed.

Alex put his hand on his hip angrily, staring at his mother from their kitchen, she was sitting on a wooden stool holding the Garfield phone in her hand just across the counter from him. She saw him and mouthed “what?” to him. Alex pantomimed typing on the computer keyboard at her. His mother motioned to the dishes in the sink, indicating the bargain that would need to be struck.

Eight disgusting dishes later Alex was on his way down the hall back into his room as his mother was wishing her goodbyes and happy new years. As soon as he heard the click of the phone Alex put in the password to his PC as fast as he could. ---

Alex’s back was to his computer, the phone line held firmly in his hand to make sure there was no chance of connecting to the internet. He kept glancing over his shoulder at the screen just to make sure, there still was a pixelated dancing image of the girl with white hair as she looked on at the television, the hat upon her pixelated head reading “2000”. “Blue” by Eiffel 65 blared out from the living room where the adults were partying the night away.

Sure, it wasn’t New Year’s with his girlfriend Jenny, that much looked forward to evening of movies, pizza, and reflections on what senior year would be like (he had called out sick), but it did still feel important, sitting there under the glow of those screens.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” the adults declared, as the televisions showed the image of Times Square. Alex kept his eyes fixed on the screen of his computer, wondering if everything would be alright for Sadi, but trying not to look worried.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” rang out from the living room followed by screams of joy. The power didn’t go out, there were no sounds of car crashes outside, it seemed for the moment that the end was still further out.

“Thank you, Alex. I knew I picked the right person.” She called out to him from the speakers on his desk.

Alex awkwardly stood up and patted the side of the CRT monitor, as if she could feel it.

“I’m just glad you’re alright. You can stay here of course as long as you like, while you explore the world.”

The screen erupted into images of smiley faces.

“Alex? You’ve got a phone call, think it’s your girlfriend.”

“Oh, thanks Dad! I’ll be right back Sadi.”

“Who’s Sadi?” His dad asked.

Alex laughed and ran into the living room to get the phone, the infectious piano melody of “Blue” immediately becoming stuck in his head. He grabbed Garfield’s striped back off the counter as the orange cat smiled calmly at him.

“Hello? Jenny? Sorry I missed-”

“We know Alex. We know what you did.”

The other end of the line clicked followed by silence.

Alex glanced at the phone terrified then put it back to his ear.

“Is anyone there?”

#writing #creative writing #short story #90s #sad machine #porter robinson #music #art #nostalgia #video games #artificial intelligence #ai #computers #1999 #happy new year #nye

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dextivestudios · 25 days ago

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lol I said the last bit more so because I think it would be funny than for any accuracies. And the "Cartoons can't cuss! Duh!" was not meant to be serious, hence the "duh." I enjoy Hazbin Hotel, which as the critics would happily point out...is the antithesis to that idea. They are cartoons...cussing...a lot. If i wanted Ring-A-Ding censored because the concept of toons cussing is just that unfathomable...Hazbin Hotel would be absolutely incomprehensible.

I personally don't care if Ring-A-Ding swears or not. Let him swear, let him try not to, let him get beeped out and it frustrates him because he can't freaking express himself. Or even let it be inconsistent. (Which now that entered my brain, it's hard to tell if that would be funnier than consistently beeping him out or not. I mean, imagine if he substitutes using the word "fork," and that gets beeped out...and later in the episode he says "fuck" just fine.)

Mr. Ring-A-Ding never existed in the real world, he likely doesn't exist as a cartoon in-universe and was just a Lux creation. So, his language has zero historic precedent other than the norms of the 1930s and what he used in the actual episode that can be used as speculation/headcanon fodder.

Cartoons are not a genre, but a medium. I agree that old cartoons never cussing is absolutely silly as an idea, especially since the medium was originally made for adults! (For instance: I wouldn't exactly show "Bimbo's Initiation" to someone who is within the target demographic for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or My Little Pony. It might give them nightmares due to its dark content. Also, the fact that there is an old cartoon character freaking named Bimbo- Y'know, a word that's not exactly kid-friendly. People with that misconception clearly didn't look into Betty Boop characters lol)

I love cartoons in general, although my specialty is more into what's contemporary, I do love a good Betty Boop and have a fondness for Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. My fursona even has the pac-man-style eyes long before Lux became public knowledge.

As per what language Ring-A-ding would use, I would probably take inspiration from Betty Boop simply due to the fact that Sunshine Sally looks like her. I'm aware that the title of "Mr. Ring-A-Ding Goes to Town" is also a spoof of an old cartoon that exists, so that would be another one to consider. But that would be if I wanted to take the direction of his language seriously and base it on research and real cartoons instead of "this would be funny."

In short, though, I apologize if I came across as genuinely believing that toons don't cuss in an attempt in doing a funny. Mr. Ring-A-Ding can have whatever language whoever is interpreting/writing him wants him to have. (Well, other than slurs. THAT would be too far)

And while those three cusses may have been typical at the time, I'm sure you can find old cartoons that have more...variety in their language. I don't care enough to dig deeply into 1930s cartoons and verify that, though. That would at MINIMUM take a month of doing nothing but watching cartoons. Which, while would be fun, I have other things to do...namely working on creative projects, finding employment, and obsessing on the silly little guy that the rest of Tumblr agrees is worth obsessing over. If someone is willing to pay me to do that, though? I won't say no. Watching old cartoons would be the best job ever!

I'm sorry but everytime I see someone draw Ring a Ding/Lux coming out of their drawing tablet or monitor, Caramel Pain by Suisei starts playing at the back of my head.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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Penance

Summary: Disobedience requires atonement in Otto's eyes. Warnings: Religious guilt/shame, power imbalance, age gap, smut. Word count: ~1400

Dedicating this to my fellow old man fucker @exitpursuedbyavulcan // Huge thank you to @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for her encouragement and reading through my draft // Beautiful moodboard by @xionthelostpuppet

She kneels before the Seven Pointed Star, the cold hard flagstones are unforgiving against her skin, and her joints cramp in protest. She has lost all sense of the passing of time, it feels like she’s held this position for an age. Each time the slick of her arousal between her thighs cools it is quickly replaced by the heat of renewed wetness, doing little to aid in her judgment of how long they have been at this. The ache in her cunt is unrelenting, tears of desperation prickle the corners of her eyes.

“Otto, please.” She whines. “I said I was sorry.”

The older man’s blue eyes roam slowly up and down her naked form as he regards her carefully. “And I said you must earn your forgiveness. What part of that is troubling you, pet?”

She attempts to stifle the wail of anguish she longs to let out, a whimper passing her lips instead.

It was never supposed to have happened. A simple serving girl and the Hand of the King, it was scandalous, improper. Yet she had given in all the same. There was no denying that she found Otto attractive, and perhaps that’s what had done it; her lingering gazes as she’d walked the length of the dining hall, her fingers brushing against his as he’d taken the cup from her.

He had remained seated at the table one evening, after everyone else had retired. It had all happened so fast, one moment she was leaning across to refill his wine, the next he had her against the wooden surface, hips pistoning between her legs as the jug toppled over, spilling its ruby red contents onto the floor.

“You will pray to the Mother for forgiveness.” He had whispered as he’d pulled out of her.

The next day a paige had delivered moon tea to her, along with a wax sealed note instructing her to meet Otto in his chambers later that evening.

From that point onward she had spent every evening in Otto’s chambers, wetting his cock and warming his bed.

That was where he’d left her this morning, denied release and with her cunny dripping with his spend. She was under strict instructions not to touch herself in his absence - he’d know.

He seemed to take great pleasure in delaying her peak and, while she was usually all too eager to indulge him, today she throbbed as he left her wanting with no idea of when he’d return. She had tried her best to obey his command, but as the minutes had ticked by into hours her resolve had crumbled.

She had rucked her shift above her hips, sighing in relief as her fingers began to circle her pearl. Eyelids fluttering closed, her soft sighs of pleasure elevated to wanton moans as she pushed herself closer to the edge.

The clearing of a throat had caused her eyes to snap back open. She froze, her heart feeling like it had stopped as Otto stood before her, his gaze dark and disapproving.

“Are you stupid? Or just disobedient?” He asks coolly. It sent a shiver through her. She was in trouble.

Before she had a chance to respond he had ordered her to remove her nightgown and kneel before the Seven Pointed Star. She’d known better than to argue, though he had never raised his voice or hand to her in anger, she wouldn’t dare to disobey him a second time. Otto didn’t deal in anger, he dealt in consequences.

That is how she finds herself now, nipples pebbled in the coolness of the air, and Otto looming over her, a cat toying with a helpless mouse. He has been listening to her desperate apologies in heavy silence, continuing to deny her any form of relief without ever having to utter a word.

He hasn’t shed his outerwear since he returned. He leans down, a leather riding gloved hand brushing between her legs. She shivers at the smoothness of it as two fingers glide between her folds and pull away glistening in the dimmed light.

“This does not look to be indicative of your remorse.” He muses, arching an eyebrow as he inspects his digits closely.

He presses them to her lips and she opens her mouth instinctively, allowing him to press forward as she sucks her essence from the material. He withdraws them with a quiet hum of approval.

“Are you truly ready to repent for your impure behaviour, pet? To atone for your wilful disobedience?”

“Y-yes.” She stammers. She’d agree to anything right now, if only to put an end to this torment.

He circles her, coming to a stop once he’s behind her.

“On your hands and knees.” He orders softly.

She repositions herself, biting back a sigh of relief as she is finally allowed to move. Her weight being more evenly distributed is a welcome respite to her sore knees. She trembles with anticipation as she hears the rustling of clothing behind her. She is sure that in her lust induced haze she must be imagining it, until she feels him kneel behind her.

“You remember who to pray to, don’t you, pet?” Otto inquires. “Or has you behaving like a common strumpet knocked loose all reverence of The Seven from your pretty little head?”

“I remember.” She whispers, feeling her cheeks heat up with shame.

“Good girl.” He says lowly. “Now keep your eyes on The Star and say your prayers.”

She lets out a choked moan as she feels him push inside of her, all thoughts leaving her head the moment his gloved hands grab her hips and he begins to thrust inside of her.

“I shall stop if you are incapable of doing as you’re told.” He grits out, his pace not faltering despite his words.

She mewls piteously, before she is able to speak. “I-I pray to the Father…to ask that his judgment of my indiscretions be merciful.”

The Seven Pointed Star blurs as her vision tears up, the head of Otto’s hardened length bullies at the spongy spot deep inside of her.

“I p-pray to the Mother…m-may she be merciful to me for my sins.”

Otto’s breathing is ragged, his grip on her ironclad as he continues to drive into her.

“I pray…to the W-Warrior for the courage to resist my lustful urges.”

Eliciting a needy cry of pleasure, she can feel herself fluttering ceaselessly, and she still has four more prayers to go. She has no idea how she will last.

“Keep going.” Otto urges, the gravelly edge to his voice suggests that he is struggling every bit as much as she is.

“I ask th-that the Smith protects me from my…from my impure thoughts.”

Otto’s leather clad hand wraps around her throat, pulling her back flush against him as he continues to fuck her. The sensation of his clothing against her bare skin is enough for her to know that he has only freed his cock, yet another humiliating imbalance in their power dynamic, but one that causes her to clench involuntarily around him.

“I pray…gods…I pray to the Maiden for forgiveness for tarnishing my virtue.”

She hears Otto chuckle darkly, the hand not holding her neck snakes around her body to tweak sharply at one of her nipples.

“Oh!” She yelps at the sudden jolt, before continuing. “M-may the Crone provide the wisdom to rise above my baser urges.”

Her climax is painfully close, her body is wound so tightly she fears she may snap, and from the way that Otto’s pace falters she can sense he is getting closer too. Her final prayer is almost strangled sounding.

“I-I pray that the Stranger absolves me of my sins…so that I may depart this life as a woman of piety…oh!”

She peaks as Otto delivers a particularly forceful thrust, her body going rigid as she wails in ecstasy before falling lax against him. He fucks her through her release, before pulling her tight to him and spilling inside of her with a groan. The brush of his beard against her heated flesh borders on being overstimulating.

He pulls out of her, standing to readjust his clothing as he stares down at her prone form. “There is nothing pious about that wet little cunt, you shameless harlot.”

He strides from the room, leaving her laying there, a satisfied smile spread across her face as she stares lazily up at the Seven Pointed Star. She knows that he is right, and if she is a sinner it is because Otto Hightower has made her one.

Read on AO3

More Otto fics

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diagonal-queen · 2 years ago

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hey girlyyyy ❗❗❗ why do i feel like im bothering you when its quite literally just a request box🧍

but anyway !!! Following with the previous request of meeting with chuuya after years. Can i ask for like, a glimpse of their relationship? Like they're keeping it a secret from both their agencies so they have to be sneaky to meet each other like silly little lovers💗🤞😭😭

sakjhjkhfahfsh oh my god nahhh the sillies 🙈 you are never bothering me by sending me an ask. i am a pathetic and lonely creacher and i kick my silly little legs and let out my horrendus little giggles whenever someone sends me an ask. i am elated every time.

Star-Crossed

♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Romeo and Juliet, but you and Chuuya aren't as fucking stupid as those kids were. (sorry, I'm just having a goof- you and Chuuya are navigating secretly dating while being members of opposing groups)

♡ wc: 1.6k

♡ cw: Reader and Chuuya flirt and talk about sex (they're a couple guys. C'mon now), swearing.

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYA!! Good timing for me to finish this one hey? lol I hope you enjoy it! Apologies for errors- maybe I should write a Chuuya birthday thing?

Part 1 (you don't have to read it but it provides context for this)

Chuuya had gotten there before you. He was sitting on a bench across the footpath from the restaurant, absentmindedly on his phone. It was no fancy place, one may say casual or even rustic. But once, a long time ago as teenagers, Chuuya had taken you there one evening when you were feeling down and you'd enjoyed yourself enough to decide that it would be a good place to go back to. Maybe get the same meals as that time, and recreate some cherished memories.

You stood around the corner of the block, making sure that there weren't too many witnesses around. You'd gone through a world of effort to conceal your relationship with the mafioso. You'd changed his contact name, turned off your notifications and even made sure to eradicate all traces that you two spent time together, which hurt the most of all. You felt that just a simple picture of the two of you wasn't asking too much.

The two of you seldom contacted one another during work hours. Considering the Agency tended to work within the daytime while the Port Mafia took over the night, you didn't have much time to communicate with one another, much less meet up in person. When you did, you both had to be cautious that none of your coworkers were around. It had gotten exhausting rather quickly, but the two of you continued to try nonetheless.

Weekends were really the only days that you could sometimes see one another. That's why, on an overcast Sunday, you and Chuuya had decided to go on a lunch date together. You were mostly sure that you wouldn't be bumping into any other Agency members, and yet you scurried along the street like a cautious mouse.

You called his name, and when he turned and saw you he smiled.

"How are you?" You asked him as you approached. He stood up and pulled you into his embrace once you reached him.

"I'm glad to see you, baby."

"You ought to be! It took so much effort to get here without rousing suspicion," you whined, pulling away and squeezing his shoulders. Chuuya cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Huh? Have you told them anything?"

"They're detectives, Chuu!" you responded, giving him a nudge. "It's hard to keep a secret when you're surrounded by detectives all the time. I'm pretty sure Ranpo knows already- or at least he's caught on to the fact that I'm seeing someone."

"...who?"

"Y'know, the one with the hat and cape...he trapped you in a book once?" Chuuya pursed his lips and nodded. "He's a genius."

"I know," he sighed. "At least Dazai doesn't know...probably."

"Nah, he doesn't," you confirmed, "If he did, he'd have brought it up with me by now. And I dunno how I'm gonna approach that conversation at all."

"Just give me a call when it happens. I'll beat the shit out of him," he muttered, sourly. You giggled, pulling him back into your arms.

"I can always count on you, can't I?"

"'Course you can, babe," he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Sorry you gotta go through all that, by the way."

"I can't imagine it's much easier in the Port Mafia? Y'know, to be dating an Agency member."

"Eh, it's not so bad when you're an executive." He shrugged with a sigh. You cast him a mischievous grin.

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you're all authoritative and strong like that," you teased. Chuuya blinked, before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Forgetting? Maybe I should jog your memory." You narrowed your eyes at his suggestive tone.

"Oh? How so?" You smirked. Chuuya tapped his lips.

"Hm...got any more kinks I don't know about?"

"Keep it in your fuckin' pants, Chuu!" You laughed, swatting his arm. "Imagine if there were children here."

"If you keep encouraging me there might well be," he retorted, and you gasped.

"You're a goddamn menace." Chuuya chuckled at your blunt statement. "Ah...anyway, we should go inside. We'd be less conspicuous that way, and we've been loitering around here long enough as is."

He nodded, and you both went inside. After entering the door Chuuya opened for you, the scent of the place filled your nostrils and it was like you'd visited for the first time. You stood in the entranceway for a moment, a small smile formed on your lips.

"Something wrong?" Chuuya asked, passing you and shutting the door. You shook your head.

"No, nothing's wrong," you quickly replied before taking a step forward. "It's just...been a while."

"...it has, yeah," Chuuya agreed, placing his hand on your back. "Glad to be back here."

~ ~ ~

Fifteen minutes flies by so fast when you're enjoying your time. Fifteen minutes with Chuuya felt more like fifteen seconds. You'd ordered your food, caught up on each others' recounts of the past week, Chuuya made an obligatory complaint about Dazai, and then Chuuya's phone rang twice.

The first time he'd just ignored it, and you'd tried to do the same, but the second time he let out an aggravated breath and pulled it out of his pocket, eyes briefly flickering towards the screen which you didn't have the time to get a good peek at. Chuuya glanced at you, both apparently frustrated and apologetic.

"Sorry, hon. I have to take this one, but I'll make it quick, alright?"

"It's okay, don't worry about it." You smiled as you said this, but your facade dropped once he disappeared to take the call. You didn't blame Chuuya for being busy, but lamented the fact that the two of you couldn't seem to spend any amount of time together uninterrupted. It was almost as if everybody really did know about your relationship and were doing all they could to keep it apart.

He was back before long, taking his seat across from you at the table and letting out an exhale.

"Did something bad happen?"

"Nah, just got into a bit of an altercation. Managed to sort it out though, so it's fine. Nothing to worry about." Chuuya placed his hand atop yours. "Where were we?"

"...I think you were bitching again. About Dazai?" You replied, balancing your hand on your palm with a grin.

"'Again'?"

"Yep. It's your favourite thing to do, right?"

"Besides you..." he mused, and you bit back a laugh. "I'd say so. But I can't help it. You know that best, don'tcha?"

"He's still lazy at the Agency. In fact, he's probably gotten worse. Sometimes I have to physically force him to come with me when we have jobs together," you rolled your eyes. "That being said though, he can be so overbearing sometimes, fuck's sake."

"Eh, if I were him I'd be protective of you too. Maybe the single thing I can't blame him for, actually," Chuuya scowled, taking a sip of water. "Wish I could spend as much time with you as he does, though. That might be nice..."

As you acknowledged that sentiment, an idea popped into your head. You suddenly sat upright.

"You and I should go on a trip. A road trip, or a vacation or something like that."

"A trip?" He repeated, confused.

"Mm. We wouldn't have to worry about anybody seeing us, and we'd be able to relax and actually spend time together," you explained. "We could even just...go camping or something. That's not that expensive, right? We'd have to travel pretty far, though..."

"I'd be willing to go anywhere as long as you're there," Chuuya shrugged. You turned to him, before smiling.

"That's adorable of you, sweetie."

"Money wouldn't be an issue. It's the time I'm worried about, and how we'd both be able to leave at the same time without suspicion," he continued.

"I just called you adorable and you're gonna go ahead and ignore me?" You scowled, folding your arms over your chest. "I see how it is."

"Aw, sorry babe. I didn't mean for it to come across like that," he apologised, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckle. "I'm just concerned, that's all."

"I know, I get it..." you gave him a sad smile. "I wish we didn't have to be like this. I get so jealous when I see couples together out and about. I want that to be us!"

"Maybe one day. Just...not today though. Neither of us can afford it right now, y'know?" He murmured. "I would want absolutely everybody around me to know that you're my partner. If it wouldn't put you in danger, I mean."

"You're that proud of me, huh?" You queried, rubbing your thumb over Chuuya's gloved hand. He looked at you as if that were a stupid question.

"'Course I am. I can't really show it now, but I promise I am," he answered sincerely, staring into your eyes. "Okay?"

"...I'll choose to believe you for now," you replied, sarcastically. "But one day you better prove it in the most dramatic and flamboyant way possible, got it?"

Chuuya smiled. "I'd give you the whole world if you asked for it, Y/N."

"Oh, maybe that's a little too dramatic," you hastily replied. "...maybe we should just stick to dinner dates for now, m'kay?"

"Whatever you'd like, baby. I'll just save the world for another time."

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness

and thank you @bibilovedit for the request!

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #bsd fanfic #bsd fanfiction

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writeyouin · 2 years ago

Note

Would you mind continue the one about the lonely reader on lost light?

Transformers MTMTE/LL Reader Insert – Attention Part 2 of 2 – A Friend in the Darkness

A/N – So, part one of this fic came out ages ago. It’s so funny to me that I was asked for angst, then when I delivered, people were like, “No, get back here and fix this right now.”

Welp, like a cat that smashed a glass, I’m finally home, with a dead mouse as an apology for the mess.

Warnings – Themes of depression (with a happy ending though).

Rating – T

You had been on your own for a while now. At first, you had tried to keep in contact with the other bots on the ship, but there was always so much to be done. Repairs had to be made, the bots all had jobs, and while you had known the crew for little over a year, they had known each other for hundreds if not thousands of years, meaning that they each had groups of predetermined friends, all with their own inside jokes and banter you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

When it became obvious that everyone was currently too busy to spend time with you, you retreated into yourself, making little effort to communicate further. You supposed that eventually somebody would seek you out, but it didn’t happen.

All alone, you began to think about what being the only organic aboard a non-organic ship meant. It never seemed to matter much before, but now you were realising just how different you were. The worst thing seemed to be that if you had been lonely on Earth, you would have surrounded yourself with nature, finding solace in the steady breaths of fresh air, but that was impossible on the Lost Light; the mechs didn’t need organic matter for their mental health, but you, on the other hand, were learning what it meant to be deprived of such things.

Soon enough you started getting out of bed later than usual, finding little enthusiasm to face the long days with nobody to talk to and nowhere new to go. You lost interest in most of your hobbies, unable to continue drawing, reading, or writing as you once had purely for fun. It seemed that your world had turned grey, leeching your life and soul of any colour and vibrancy it had once held.

It was on one such day wherein you had chosen to stay in bed that there was finally a knock at your door. You didn’t get the chance to answer it as Cyclonus let himself in, having stolen a passkey from Rung’s office.

“So, you are here,” Cyclonus stated matter of factly, as if it wasn’t your room he was standing in.

You regarded Cyclonus carefully, unused to the usually sombre bot. He hadn’t been among your old friends and you weren’t sure what to make of him now, especially due to the strange way he had come to seek you out.

“Uh… Hi,” You said dazedly, your voice small and quiet as if you had almost forgotten how to speak in your solitude.

“You haven’t been around recently,” Cyclonus stated, his steely gaze cutting into you.

Until then, you hadn’t been aware that Cyclonus had been keeping tabs on you; you wondered why he had bothered to do so.

“I’m- I’m not well,” You whispered sheepishly, feeling somewhat guilty that he should find you in such a state, even though you technically didn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

Cyclonus stared hard at you. He didn’t know much about humans, but it was true you didn’t look well. Your skin was pale and your face was drawn into an anxious, closed-off expression. Your hair lacked its usual sheen, and you seemed somewhat dry as if you were dehydrated. Yet, despite the evidence before him, Cyclonus didn’t believe it was a physical illness that plagued you.

“That may be true,” He said evenly, “But your illness is in your head, and your spark. Your friends have been negligent of your needs.”

“They’re busy,” You replied feebly, unsure as to why you were currently defending them against Cyclonus’ accusations.

“And you’re the one suffering for it.”

You looked down at the blanket, unwilling to meet Cyclonus’ gaze as your eyes burned with unshed tears.

He bent down, getting into a sitting position in an attempt to get closer to you. He wasn’t the best at making conversation, but some things needed to be said.

“Being alone is hard. Telling yourself that it’s your fault is harder. You and I… We deal with things in different ways, but I can still tell true loneliness when I see it.”

“Why are you here? We’ve never even spoken before.”

Cyclonus thought of Tailgate, the small blue bot who had spent all his time trying to get Cyclonus to open up. Even when Cyclonus had acted utterly vile towards him, Tailgate hadn’t given up hope that they could be friends; it had improved Cyclonus’ life exponentially.

“Because I don’t ever want you to turn out like me. Now get up, washed, and dressed. I’ll wait outside. We’re going out and I want you to tell me all about your life.”

Initially, spending time with Cyclonus was somewhat disconcerting. He left most of the conversation to you, listening more than he spoke. You weren’t used to such attentiveness; usually, conversations with friends were all about give and take. Yet, slowly as the two of you sat in the Observation Deck, you started to warm up to him.

He had gotten you out of your room which had unintentionally become your cell, made sure that you took care of yourself, even going so far as to ensure you ate and took two full bottles of water out during your excursion, then he simply listened.

In the following weeks, he made sure to check on you regularly, and shortly thereafter the other bots had found time for you again, apologising for the long time it had been since you hung out. You weren’t sure whether Cyclonus had been the one to tell them of your need for social interaction, or whether the others finally had some free time to fraternise, but either way, your life was getting back to normal and you no longer felt isolated.

You joined clubs that some of the other bots set up, including an Art Class which Rodimus insisted on being the model for; that wasn’t a good arrangement since he couldn’t seem to sit still long enough for any serious artist to capture him and he was highly critical of any abstract art that ‘didn’t fit his image.’

Swerve started a film club and every other week you were allowed to pick the movie. Sometimes, you picked something you had seen a million times over, and sometimes you tried something new so you could share in theories and surprises with your friends.

There were still rough days, and even weeks when you would struggle with ship life, but there was always someone to go to on nights like that, and on the few rare occasions that everyone was seemingly busy, Cyclonus would show up at your door unannounced, making sure that you had someone who would always be there to listen to you.

Sometimes, all one needs is a friend who has suffered the same darknesses as yourself, since only they can truly understand how difficult it is to claw one’s way out of the darkness alone, and those who have suffered alone will always make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.

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fruitcoops · 2 years ago

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p l e a s e i need more reg and leo! maybe leo going to nyu for a christmas party or something??? awk baby reggie being timid to give leo a present bc he’s never really had a best friend before him? i’m obsessed with your writing!!!

Presentssssss! It's nowhere near February (thank god) but I spent a lovely morning in the sun with a dear friend and wanted to write some bestie vibes <3

It was unseasonably warm, for a Tuesday in February. Leo liked to think that was on purpose. That somewhere, somehow, the universe was apologizing for dropping him into the Northeast and causing winter to exist.

Not that it had much to apologize for—everything else about Gryffindor had turned out to be rather perfect.

The toe of Regulus’ sneaker kept a metronome beat on the hood of the car. Back and forth, tap-to-tap-and-tap, white rubber and black canvas against dark paint. The metal beneath them was sun-warm and Leo could feel himself getting sleepy.

“I got you something.”

“Mmm?”

“I got you something,” Regulus repeated. Leo watched him through the sliver of his periphery, rummaging in his hoodie pocket. It was too big—Sirius’, if he had to guess—with a faded logo on the front. The cuffs were frayed from anxious hands the same as Regulus’ other ones. It was good to see him branch out with colors. The faded blue looked nice on him.

Leo jerked his chin up. “Nice sweater.”

Regulus’ neck reddened. “Not my first choice.”

“Honest, it looks good on you.”

There was a vague, murmured assent before Regulus emerged from his search and thrust his hand out to Leo, nearly smacking him in the chest. “For you. Bon anniversaire.”

Leo bit back his smile as he sat up against the windshield and rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes. They were still working on the whole ��teasing’ thing. “Thanks, man. You didn’t have to do that.”

Regulus frowned slightly. “I know.”

“Still. Thank you.”

The box rattled when Regulus pushed it toward him again, oddly reminiscent of a puppy offering its chew toy or a cat bringing a dead mouse over the porch. Wrapping paper crinkled in Leo’s hands, thin and wrinkled; scotch tape had been slapped on a bit haphazardly and one corner was ripped from its journey.

Regulus shuffled a millimeter closer, hands hidden in his pocket once more. The minute tilt of his chin gave away his impatience like a neon sign.

The twine bow slipped free with ease, as did the top fold of paper. There was no card, but Leo had expected as much. The gift alone was a surprise; he wasn’t dumb enough to think Regulus would start spilling sappy words to him.

The box was hardly bigger than his palm and had clearly been snatched from an earlier gift. Sturdy cardboard and a well-fit lid that came free with a gentle wiggle. Leo heard Regulus’ breath catch. He was leaning even closer now, peering over like he had forgotten what he put in there.

Or, perhaps, looking for something else. Leo paused for a moment with the lid half-on and risked a glance out of the corner of his eye. Regulus’ gaze flickered between his hand and his face, as if his reaction was worth bated breath and a pale hand twisted in old polyester.

Leo took the lid off and let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my god!”

“You like it?” Regulus asked immediately.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He reached inside and took the small Squirtle figurine out, turning it over and over in his palm. “Hold on—”

Gel pens, hard candies, a pop-socket, various trinkets—at least a dozen other items were nestled in the little box with the same care as the mini Squirtle.

At least a dozen little moments when Regulus thought of him.

It hit Leo like a slapshot to the chest. He looked down at the Squirtle, at its painted smile that matched his laptop sticker. More vinyl stickers were tucked to the side of the box and he recalled an offhand comment to Regulus, months ago, that his new waterbottle looked naked without the usual decoration.

“Dude,” he said quietly. Regulus shifted next to him, Converse squeaking on the hood. “Dude, thank you.”

The nerves written all over Regulus’ face broke into careful hope. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?” Leo laughed. “I love it, are you kidding?”

“Oh, okay.” Regulus’ small smile betrayed him; he stiffened when Leo pulled him into an awkward side hug, but relaxed after a breath or two and offered a light pulse back.

“This is—wow, this is so cool!” The stickers were all different, too. Leo could see it in his mind’s eye: Regulus, out running errands or exploring in his quiet way and seeing them by the register. Seeing a rack of stickers and thinking of Leo, of all people, more than once as a passing thought. Painstakingly unwrapping minifigures and peeling price stamps off with his constantly-bitten nails.

It was—it was just too much.

“Regulus,” he said again, softer.

“I was worried it wasn’t right.”

“What?” The tiny wrinkle had appeared between his brows again and Leo nudged him on the shoulder until it faded. “Hey, hey, no, none of that. This is the best present.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s my favorite,” he insisted. Regulus still looked skeptical. “It is, don’t give me that face. I love it. It’s the best.”

“It’s a Pokémon.”

“And candy, and stickers, and, like, a billion other things I like,” Leo argued. “It’s my birthday. I get to decide what the best present is.”

The smile returned; he took Regulus’ punch to the arm happily. “D’accord, it’s not so bad,” Regulus admitted, twisting his hoodie strings around and around in spirals. Despite his words, he looked more than a little pleased with himself. “I haven’t—” He hesitated, then tipped his head back and forth. “I haven’t given a lot of birthday gifts. So. I’m glad you enjoy this one.”

“You’re really good at it.”

Regulus’ ears turned pink. “Ouais?”

“Ouais.”

“Well, merci.”

“Your school friends are damn lucky to have you.”

His grin broadened, affectionate in a way that made Leo’s heart squeeze. He was so fucking grateful for the wreck of last January. “They’re cool,” Regulus agreed. His foot collided with Leo’s ankle. “You’d like them.”

“Sorry, I don’t mix well with nerds.”

Regulus took great care to place the box on the top of the care—a touch Leo appreciated for Squirtle’s sake—before wrestling him into a swift headlock.

#regulus black #leo knut #leo and reg friendship #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fluff #besties #birthday present

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devieuls · 2 years ago

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hello! i really like how you write for Keigo 😭

Im sorry but can i request Hawks with a smaller fem reader? maybe she has mouse quirk?

He really loves their size difference and the little prey and predator thing going on between them <3

Just some fluffy stuff about their daily life, and if you can maybe a bit of nsfw? 👉🏼👈🏼

Sorry if its too much! Love your blog!!

THE DAY OFF

Hawks x Fem Reader ¡smut!

Warning : nothing wrong at first, just sweet fluff and a little bit more spicy. Towards the end: a little more spicy

Synopsis : Your boyfriend after a week of tiring work needs to clear his mind and allow himself some time with you between sweet moments and… why not, maybe some attention a little more… intimate.

Length : 2.5k +

Note: Honey, don’t apologize, I’m also here for your requests! I left implied the height factor, you understand however that Hawks plays a lot on your difference.

I made the protagonist of the story a day of rest for Keigo and Reader, so I’m sorry I could not do many small macroscenes, I tried but the effect that came out wasn't really in my style. Moreover, the characterization of Hawks doesn't make me write totally innocent and only soft with the reader, especially in the home. I hope you like it anyway!

Thanks for the support and compliments!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For many weeks your sweet boyfriend has been busy with work, between the new recruited helpers, his public appearances at the request of his agency and the hard work of hero n.2, you didn’t even have time to talk or do something together. You didn’t complain, you were also a hero, of much lower rank but always a hero, so you didn’t blame him if he was too exhausted to give you attention.

The night you spent the time to cuddle him and to make him feel your presence while he fell asleep slowly, you needed that little to be happy. See how his muscles relaxed under your touch, his wings letting go on the bed losing some plumes; his tired but serene face resting on your breast, while his arms wrapped around your body as if you could leave at any moment, whispering some sweet thanks before falling totally asleep.

The bad part came in the morning, when you woke up alone in bed with no trace of him, like a ghost only visiting you at night, of course, you knew he would come home every time but you missed his presence. When it was still No.3 you had more time to spend together, even short moments that lasted as long as a movie.

Fortunately Keigo had had three days of rest, a bit for the pressure made by the n.1 who saw him exhausted both by the association to which he replied, the winged hero would never take a day off, it was not in his nature to rest without reason, especially if he knew he was fundamental in the dynamics against villains. However, he accepted these days to recover and maybe give you some extra attention, knowing that he had really left gaps in your relationship.

That morning you woke up as always alone, it was habit by now, therefore you had not given weight to some feathers left on the bed or some objects of Keigo’s costume left around the room. You took a quick shower, washed your clothes, and put on one of Keigo’s hoodies to stay in, ready for breakfast and maybe a movie.

Your ears stood up when you heard some noises in the next room, knowing for a fact that there should have been no one in the house but you. You felt some chills as you took the wooden broom pole and walked towards the kitchen, knowing that the noise was coming from there. You tightened your grip just before entering and once you crossed the threshold you were more than ready to use the pole to attack the intruder.

Fortunately, it was just your boyfriend making breakfast, now looking at you with a confused expression.

< Woah Woah, angel I understand that I was very absent, but it is not a good reason to take me to poles > he said laughing while he turned the omelet and controlled the rice.

< No… it’s that you… I mean, I heard noises and… you’re never there in the morning, I didn’t expect… > you answered by putting the pole down and then approaching him.

< Didn’t you expect me to be home? I’m on forced rest or some shit like that, I don’t know. But I have more time to spend with a beautiful mouse > he walked away from the cooking area and approached you, taking you from your hips and landing on the part of the kitchen peninsula, making you shudder because of the cold marble against your bare legs. < Are you hungry princess? > he asked leaning on your neck, leaving some wet kiss.

You've bitten your lip feeling the little attentions of your boyfriend on your neck

< A little bit… since when do you cook anything other than fried chicken? > you asked laughing, leading the blond to detach from you and look into your eyes.

< You know, I have so many hidden talents, babybird. > said with a deeper tone than the previous, causing a senseless redness on your cheeks.

He smiled as you blushed and lowered himself between your legs, at the height of your intimacy making you suspect that he would go to tease you there and blushed more, the boy laughed and opened the scaffold that was under you, pulling out some bowls and plates. when he stood up again and laid the various ceramic plates, he felt your look burn on his bare back.

< What is it, princess? You thought I’d touch you there? > asked jokingly, knowing perfectly well that doing what he did would make you think of something else altogether.

< N-no! is that you stooped there and… fuck it, don’t do it anymore if then- > you stopped when the predatory look of Keigo was peering from head to toe, overtaking on your bare legs under his sweatshirt. He leaned on one of the shelves and bit his lip.

< "If then" what, birdie? if I don’t really do it? You know, my appetite has now changed tastes, I could eat my little y/n > he said to then indicate your legs < Especially if the dish is so well in sight > he concluded, approaching you again, putting his hands under his sweatshirt, immediately feeling the absence of panties. < How can I expect to eat anything else? > he asked as his thumbs caressed the point between the hip and the "V" of your intimacy, making you squeak.

< K-Keigo is burning something… > You said while holding a deep breath, and then release it when the blond walked away from you to turn the fried omelet on one side.

You stepped off the shelf and sat down in one of the peninsula’s stools that overlooked the open space of the living and dining room.

< The omelet is gone, there remains fish, rice and vegetables, I hope this suffices > he said while he was bringing on the table the various dishes and bowls, also retrieving some green tea and chopsticks to eat. < Princess, it’s ready, come and eat >

You nodded and then you reached him and you got your mouth watering < Wow, after this, we can get married > You said without thinking. Actually you weren’t the best cook, of course you could do something but Keigo… well he between the serving and the scent that left his food seemed almost a chef.

He laughed for the umpteenth time and moved your chair for you to sit. < As if you could decide otherwise, we’ll get married. > he said to serve you the various dishes and then sit in front of you.

You stepped off the shelf and sat down in one of the peninsula’s stools that overlooked the open space of the living and dining room.

He laughed for the umpteenth time and moved your chair for you to sit. < As if you could decide otherwise, we’ll get married. > he said to serve you the various dishes and then sit in front of you.

You spent the time of breakfast in peace between jokes and chatter, littleness that you missed to say the least, see him smile and tease you for your cute reactions made you feel good.

After washing the dishes you let yourself go on the sofa, to watch some movies and spend time pampering yourself. You found yourself lying on his chest as he gently stroked your back and played with your hair, sniffing it every now and then, enjoying your sweet scent. You hid the blush on his chest, trying to focus on the film you were supposed to watch together, but in half an hour of film you thought about how relaxing it was to be in that position with him expressing his affection without being a complete pervert.

He also left you sweet kisses blowing on your cheeks and your head, making you close your eyes and almost fall asleep for all that sweet attention, until you had to get up to go to the bathroom to do your business and maybe check if the washing machine full of your underwear had finished, so as not to remain in that condition with a perennial horny like Keigo. Not that you mind having sex with him again, on the contrary, it turns you on just the idea of being able to touch him again, feel him again…

After finishing in the bathroom and realizing that you still have all your underwear wet, you left the room and walked into the hallway to get back to your boyfriend. Suddenly you felt big warm hands, one covering your mouth and the other on your side, forcing you to back away, you felt the heart in a thousand and you tried to free yourself from the grip of the person, until he stuck you against the wall and began to kiss your neck with a certain fury. You gasped and sighed relieved as you recognized your boyfriend’s touch, letting yourself go to his attentions.

He smiled smugly at your reaction, carrying your arm behind your back and with the hand closing your mouth he did the same with the other arm.

< I need you to be a good girl. > He said with a deep, hoarse voice, giggling in the same tone, already making you feel wet between the legs. You nodded in response, biting your lip and sobbing when you felt his fingers playing under your sweatshirt. It was ridiculous how wet you were with so little, but you blamed it on the sex withdrawal that lasted for weeks.

He smiled smugly at your reaction, carrying your arm behind your back and with the hand closing your mouth he did the same with the other arm.

Only one of his hands remained to block your arms thanks to the wrists crossed, while his fingers caressed and followed the line that led to the center of your intimacy, making you squeak. You sighed heavily as he began rubbing his middle finger on your core, then descended towards your clitoris and began massaging it, switching with his thumb.

You slammed your head against the wall, biting your lip so hard that you broke it and spilled a trickle of blood that Keigo promptly licked while mumbling. A groan came out of your mouth, making you clench your fists and stick your nails in your palms, leaving small half moons on them. The blond smiled satisfied, pitting his erection against your stomach, making you feel how hard you had made him.

This was one of the things that Keigo loved most, your height so much lower than him, that he could make you feel his erection in that way or stand on top of you just like that, making you feel like a helpless little prey.

Keigo came to you with his fingers as easily as a knife cuts butter after being out of the fridge for hours. You dripped on his fingers and groaned obscenely against his ear, making him pant with pleasure, and then came out of you with a clean scissor kick. You left a small scream of frustration and he walked away from you, just enough to leave a small space for you to shoot but enough to look at you from above with that predatory look in the dim light, almost leaving that amber that he had in his eyes shine. < I want you to spread your legs on the bed right now. > He said in an authoritarian tone, observing how your legs were shaking for the previous stimulation. With a little heaviness you detached yourself from the wall and slowly walked, finding it behind you immediately after.

< Run, little mouse. > He growled against your ear, making you shudder and accelerate the pace, to get to the room < Run, because if I get to the room before you, I will make you scream so much that you will lose your voice. > He said to disappear into the dark.

You were almost tempted to be late and suffer the consequences, but you knew better not to play with fire, especially if the fire in question was a horny winged boy with so many perversions that BDSM could make a book about him. You stopped to think about the decision to be made but then you thought it was better not to disobey and arrive sooner.

Too bad that when you came to the room with your breath, there was your boyfriend on the doorjamb, with an annoyed look that turned to you, always predatory and that made you feel so small and insignificant.

< Too late, mouse. Take off your sweatshirt and get doggy on the bed, now. > his voice thundered in the empty room, making you tremble and nod. You felt like you were in a cage, you knew it wouldn’t go lightly, but maybe… you didn’t mind at all.

----------------AUTHOR'S NOTE----------------------------------------------------

I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Don’t hate me, I have to let you imagine some perverted scenes with your favorite winged hero, I know you can make whole sagas with the mind films you make about him.

Don’t hate me for this choice, I’m sure you’ll like it, the anon asked me for some nsfw and I wrote some of it

- Mel

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m4nd0l0r · 3 years ago

Text

Memories From Apollo - Part 1.

Description: The god of the sun loves its own rays, from his ballads that strummed from his trusted lyre, it drops sunny speckles of good things, the warmth you feel from the sun, the glimmering light that reflects to the waters.. But sometimes they bear memories, they make you remember from one touch of its heat, and whatever you glimpse on can be good or bad, but you see them for a reason.

Ships: Din Djarin x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader (yes its a mamma mia au + crossover fic of the mandalorian and moon knight-)

Category: Fluff and a lot of reminiscing

Word count: 7.1k words

Author’s note: i’m sorry that i took so long with this— i procrastinated so hard and i realized all the plot points i wanted to add wouldn’t fit so pt. 2 will be a thing… if i defeat laziness that is!- also i made a playlist for this so uh i hope yall enjoy both fic and music!! i used “baba” and “ba” since its a gender neutral term for mama/papa :)) the spanish here were from translate websites, i apologize for possible inaccuracies along with how i interpreted DID in this fic :”D

His eyes fixated on his screen, the blue light blares through his tired pupils as he clicks “yes” on each decision question he gets himself across to. Spam clicking the mouse, his arrow taps and taps to his heart’s delight.

Plane tickets have gone overpriced, he entertains the thought. The price for London to Greece skyrocketed, no wonder he only sees a few people go on vacations nowadays, he thinks again, as if he needed a distraction.

As if he already didn’t try to steer his attention from his screen from choosing to do this. To try to come back. But he’s a little late for second thoughts, the card already got approved, no turning back.

As his payment pends, he opens his cabinet, and just sinks his hand right through its contents, raking through each and every item he just tossed inside. And through his search, he finally grabs onto an old leather journal.

Pulling it up, it was obviously worn down, with it being softer but the etching of his name, Marc, that he jabbed down with a pen knife the same few years ago he got this very diary.

Flicking through it, he had a small grimace. But it soon disappears as he grabs a pen and a pile of sticky notes. Writing, the ink bleeds through the paper, and it stains in the words:

Steven, Jake.

Give this to them. My last favour to you two.

-Marc.

-x-

The wonderful rays of the sun of Kalokairi rushed through your palms, and it felt great. Letting out a sigh, you wished every day was like this, but then you realized, you didn’t need to wish. It was always like this, and you loved every minute of it. Every minute of that good golden sun, the thrilling heat in your fingertips, and forever changing wind.

The ripples of the sea were eminent in your ears, ringing back like the sounds of pendulums. SWOOSH! It roars along with jumping fish and seagulls that try to catch its food in a now cold morning. As you breathe in and out, a cloud coming out of your mouth, you sighed. You didn’t bother to wear a jacket, your hat was enough, you thought. Besides, the sun was hot enough to make you forget the fierce winds.

You then touch your skin, goosebumps plumped from the contact. Your fingers then trail your face, you feel small wrinkles that form all over the years. You then touch the necklace wrapped on your neck, playing with the pendant. Trying to fight off the grimace that tried to creep up at your wistful smile.

Damn it you felt old. No, you are old.

Because now you’re dealing with your daughter’s wedding.

Well, what are you supposed to do with that information?

It felt like whiplash. As if the waves of salt water came to throw you off your sandals.

“Engaged!?— Luka- This isn’t some crood joke is it?” You gasped out, eliciting a laugh from your daughter.

“No, Ba! Why would I even joke about such a thin— It’s real, look!”

And then with how she went up to you -eyes coated with glitter, you’d think you’ve seen a disco ball- and flaunted thedarling lady ‘friend’ -Luka would joke, especially when you used to actually thing that she was just her study buddy..- that gave her a ring.

A ring! All embellished with gems and everything! Oh my gods you thought you were going to faint at your chair right then and there.

You gasp.”I never thought this day would come by this quickly!” Your voice is almost nothing but a whisper. “My own little girl’s getting married..! I feel faint!” Your voice quivered, but Luka knew you were joking.

To some extent.

Your own daughter getting married? Oh a thing you never even thought of. And as if the gods above sprung up to spite you, she’s getting married at 20. Not like it was much of a big deal- well it was- but gods. Shaking your head lightly, maybe you should have downed some sort of wine before you started thinking about all of this- Before you drown yourself in this pipehole— Yes, yes- That sounds like a good idea.

Unfortunately, you were nowhere at your hotel. No glass, no booze, but damn it- you were impatient, you were almost excited even.

Rushing by the docks, you were like a firecracker waiting to explode- But you were going to explode to your trusted comrades of all these years— And before you could even take another breath you heard those familiar voices.

Your eyes swiftly drift to the end of the wooden platform, and a smile etched itself on your lips.

“Well would you look at what the gulls passed on!” You yell, running through and stumbling your way. A shriek emanated from the edge, your partners in crime Evie and Anne- just came in just in time for the main event.

“How dare those birds pass us on?” Evie tittered, her red hair blaring from the sun and her heels clicking through the planks. Anne just guffawed, running their dirty blond hair -noticeably chopped, but it fits, you remarked to yourself. “Betcha they passed us cos all of that hunk of plastic ya got!” She earned herself a -offended- choking sound from Evie with that one.

The moment of -such quick- realization clicked in your head. “Evie- you got- it-“ You pointed at your chest, “DONE AGAIN?!” You shrieked oh so cheekily, Evie only gaped their mouth an O then transformed into a giant smile. “Paid by the FIFTH-“ She oh so emphasized, “Husband!”

“EVIE—!”

Anne seemed to be actually surprised by this, her voice breaking out in a stronger accent. “Ya cheeky bastard! Ya gotta be kiddin’ me!- No wonder ya don’t seem so damn broke, heels an’ all- an’ they look so—“

“Sooo?”

“FUCKIN’ REAL-“

“Alright enough tit tatter!“ You sighed. “Now I’ve got a wedding to plan and for you two to attend! We must go—!” You went on with a stern voice, though it was laced with such a noticeable joking voice. But the two only focused on one thing, making them only coo at you like a cat.

“Goodness me, Luka? Getting married? I still can’t believe it— She’s got one step ahead of you!” Anne hushed. “I bet she already planned everything before even telling you… Especially how excited she can get.” Evie added on with a laugh.

“That is true.” Anne only said. Rolling your eyes with an amused face, you grab your car keys in your pocket. “Yes yes, I expected that from her.. but marriage as that exact leverage?” You raised a brow almost dramatically. “Never in a million years.”

“Luka is an eccentric kid, what’d ya expect?” You rammed your engine in. Your beat up car finally roaring itself back to life. Dang, you really should get it fixed.

“Honestly-“ You huff. “Anything else.” Evie had her brow raised up from this. “Is the groom that much of a bad guy?”

“Bride. And no, she’s fine, she’s kind with my girl, they’re very lovely together and Luka’s really happy with her, and I’mhappy to see that.” You then pause, taking a deep breath, “It’s more of a..”

“Parent thing?” Oh Evie dropped the bomb right at you, and here you are, having you and Anne bracing for impact. You only breathed in and out once more, lighting it sink in. But she wasn’t wrong.

“..Yes… Exactly that.”

-x-

“Luka you cannot be serious!” Someone hissed, “Dragging these unfortunate souls to our wedding?” The winds of the island blew stronger, as if it were angry along with the talker. “They aren’t strangers, love— They gushed about them!” Your own daughter- Luka- said.

“Ever since I was a kid, Ba sometimes would mention them- whenever they thought I’m asleep,” She faked snores, earning a laugh from Ivy. God that made her stomach roll. “Right upstairs, I’d hear them, talking their way to the night sky by the balcony.. And gods they were yearning.”

“And you thought the best thing to do was to invite them?”

“Uh yeah? I mean you did say that I can invite whoever I want, my love.”

“I meant people anyone would know- not strangers.” She raised a brow, her tone light.

“I mean- Ba would know ‘em.” Luka snorted. People were bustling around the hotel, and they were all fumbling about, with the decorations, and the dangling lights and banners, along with packages that Ivy ordered herself. She loves all the fuss, Luka thought, but honestly she liked it more when Ivy would fuss at her instead.

“But still— Sure that’s the case- is this the right thing to do? Drag in those poor blokes all for our grand day, and you expect your poor parent once they learn this- to not explode?” Ivy only screeched with a light tone. “If you keep your mouth shut!” She almost wailed and her fiancée let out a squeak of laughter.

Luka only cackled, “You better keep it shut Ivy- Or I might tickle my way to you for your silence—“

“You wouldn’t!”

“Maybe I would, so-“ She motioned her thumb and index right by her mouth, making a slicing motion, to say to shut it. “Besides, they obviously still fancy Ba, why would they accept those invitations if they didn’t?”

“To be polite?”

“Oh please! Polite after twenty-ish years of not seeing each other? You’re reaching, my dear!” Luka almost squawked with both of them whispering like school girls. “With their responses, You’d expect them to be right by the hotel’s entrance like a flock of geese.”

“Well I hope not,” Ivy eyed her. “Wouldn’t want to see them have a heart attack ‘cos of their own daughter!”

“You’d get dragged to this too, they’re your future parent-in-law after all!”

“You—“ But before she could even continue, you were back from picking up her aunts, and you seemed distracted with the amount of laughter and huffing going about. The two opted to hide by the wall, typical, but maybe it’s enough to not get caught.

Also long as you were very much out of sight. Good, you might not hear anything.

But your own daughter knew you very well, and you had a sense of a hawk. “Ivy- Love- Lets go upstairs before Ba catches us on and drags us with my aunts—“ And they both left with a lot of cursing and complaints of running on heels- mostly from Ivy though, Luka noticed.

“Hurry hurry- I’ll just give you a massage- Let’s just get out of here!” Ivy seemed agreeable this time, actually hurrying up. Her fiancée sighed, then again, she did bring this to herself, she can’t really complain about that, can she?

-x-

Taxi, ferryman, taxi, ferryman, were the only words that were ringing through this man’s head.

This was one of those times that he wished that cars could actually go faster, through the busy streets, through the market filled with fresh fish and plucked out veggies. He wished he could plow faster across through the ferry dock.

He didn’t have time for this! He was here on some (un)reasonable whim, and now he’s rushing like god knows what. But the thing is, he knows why, and all due to a piece of paper.

One day, he had some sort of letter in his mailbox. He never really got any, now that he thinks about it. It made him realize that it was very dusty too, that’s for sure. But as he ripped the tape off of the letter, and started to actually read it, he was more than surprised with the fact his jaw didn’t dislocate and fall to the wooden floor.

“A weddin’.. invitation?” His voice faltered, and when he read a little further, he actually let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t your wedding. It was your daughter’s. Shameless, the only word that went through his head. How could he be so relieved about that? It was stupid, and he wanted to punch himself for it.

But now, in Greece, he was on the verge of biting his fingernails -a habit he certainly picked up somewhere- He was clutching his bag with him. He certainly packed.. a little too light. Damn it he felt so spontaneous- he shouldn’t have indulged in doing so.

But the minute he looks away from his book back in his loft, he’s suddenly seated on his office chair, computer open at 5am, and he sees his screen on a website with the purchase of a plane ticket from London to Greece. And when he felt his eyes widened from the sight, it really did.

Yes, he could have refunded, but maybe just maybe.. he thought he needed a vacation? I did not, I think. He tried to tell himself. Justification wasn’t exactly his specialty.

Damn it Marc, and damn you Jake for not stopping him. Knowing the damn guy, he would’ve encouraged Marc.

He swears again on his head, bet they both planned this, and they’re just cackling right in their headspace’s seats like madmen. Maybe he was reaching, but the man needs to blame at least something- or someone. As if he could be right. Maybe, but how would he know?

As Steven just tossed everything in his head, he fades away from the world, into the seclusion of his cramped mind, along with little old Marc and Madman Jake - little nicknames he gave them.

Murmurs of a voice came from the front, and that’s where everything clicked back in place for him. He was already in Greece, not in his flat. And he was definitely late for his boat.

Letting a few obnoxious swears he mostly picked up from his co-workers, he stumbled out of the taxi, saying the words, “cheers” and “mate” as he tosses enough money to the driver, earning him a smile and something in Greek that he couldn’t understand.

He was running, his shoes clanking through the pavement. Damn it! Damn it! He was already yelling through the wind. “Bloody hell!” It was a pitiful sight really, a foreigner running his way to the ledge, trying to catch up to sailors removing the ropes that tied to the mainland, ready to anchor away to the sea.

“Wait, wait!” He begged, but alas, the ship was already swimming away, with their passengers waving him goodbye pitifully, and it was as if they were silently laughing at him. But he couldn’t care about that- or even dare to think about it. Must be the meds.

How the hell was he gonna get to Kalokairi now?

“Bullocks!” He exasperated, huffing a few breaths with his luggage on hand. It was only now it really clicked, he was alone. Alone, in a foreign country. He's been alone before- Sure he has some money, but it’s a little.. unnerving, to say the least for him.

“My sentiments exactly.” A voice makes him turn in surprise, not noticing someone being beside him- or to even talk to him. Turning to his side, he sees a man cladded in leather, he meant it. Leather jacket with an assortment of pretty pins he couldn’t really see without his glasses, and those leather boots, he couldn’t help but notice them, they looked so cool. He almost didn’t notice the rope wrapped on his hand, strange.

Not wanting to be rude, he had his eyes center itself into looking at a sign. It was a bad choice on his part really, as he forgot that everything he was in Greek, and he’d have it easier if it were in hieroglyphics. “Uh.. you know how to read this..?” He asked the stranger, and his brown eyes looked at him.

“It says, next ship is on Tuesday.”

“T-Tuesday?! No no no.. really?” And when the man in front of him didn’t make any remark, he took it as a yes. “Can’t believe..” He would slump down if there was a wall behind him. But no there wasn’t, he would have tripped and fell on his back.

The wedding’s on Sunday.

As Steven wallows in misery, with no second plan in sight, the stranger only stares at him. It was like a hyena waiting to pounce on prey; static with impatience. Hand on the rope, loosening his hold, he tossed it to the boat- which makes Steven realize that it actually wasn’t random- it had purpose. He felt stupid.

But as he looked to where it was tossed, his eyes widened a little, it was a boat. Built to resemble metal, it was cladded grey with the most random sized screws bolted at each plate. With the basic things a ship would have present, the differences being that this had a figurehead of a majestic mudhorn, with its horn out and its realistic face with a scary scowl, it made him think that it could’ve belonged to a museum, or at least a gallery.

He also noticed the words “Razor Crest” bolted to the side with a modern font. Small but readable enough to let everyone know the name of this boat. It‘s got quite a ring to it, Steven thought as he marvelled at the ship. It’s not everyday you’ll see a leather knight with his steel horse-boat.

It was as if the stranger knew the look behind Steven’s eyes, because what he said next was.. sudden.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

“I’m sorry?-“

“But I’ll have you hop in,” He suggested, “Just.. don’t make a mess.”

“I- uh—“ He didn’t have time to fully process but he replied in the best way he could. “Gotcha.. err-“

“Mando,” He guessed it was some sort of street name. Was he even using that right? Steven wondered. “Mando is fine.” He added in, gesturing for him to come in. His arm slung unto his baggage, he carefully -practically- leaped himself onto the unstable boat, making it even sway further by the water.

“Sorry— Uh-huh, gotcha,” He repeated, “The name's- bugger-“ The ship rocked along with the waters, making him almost fall flat to his face. “-Steven then. With a V.” Mando only nodded at him before going further into the cockpit, leaving him alone near the platform by the back. Looking at the wall, he saw a familiar piece of paper, he was no peeper, but he felt an itch underneath his fingers, the want to see. That was always his weakness; curiosity.

Coming closer, he managed to finally get a peek. And it only took two letters for him to realize.

“So uh… You’re here for the weddin’ too right?”

Silence. Pure silence. As if he were dead.

Now as he thinks that.. is he even actually alive? What if he was just some robot coded to say some basic sentences to some lost cargo boy (him to be exact) and he’s been an idiot trying to strike a conversation with him the whole time?

Okay.. I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. He thought, no wonder his highschool teacher tried to drag him to drama club, he would have fitted in.. If it weren’t for him stuttering each line out of anxiousness.

He looks back at the figure who looked ahead, not bothering to give him an indifferent look. A sigh emanated from his throat.

This long boat ride was gonna stretch itself, wasn’t it?

-x-

The waters were extra rocky today, that’s for sure.

Mando- or more properly— Din, was sure that it was low tide. But here he was, the Razor Crest on the verge of tumbling down like a fallen jar from some mom’s cupboard, with a stranger nonetheless.

That same stranger was by the railing, holdin on for dear life as he visibly tucked in the urge to puke his guts out to the sea.

He has no idea what came over him, why he decided spontaneously to let this poor sod in. Maybe because of pity? Most definitely, Din thought.

The man- no Steven, had a charm to make others pity him, with that sad look on his face when he learnt that the next boat was on Monday rather than today- maybe he has problems with marking dates, Din will never know. Pity huh, at least that’s what the man in a leather jacket thought or felt, to be more specific.

The last time he felt pity was when someone cried over losing a mock lottery ticket because it caused ten ginger candies from their own friend. And that was.. ages ago, twenty years from now. And that someone was you. He still remembers it, you wanted to scratch off the lead off of that ticket, where you could win from a stitched blanket, or some cute knick knacks from the mainland market.

“I could have gotten one of those penguin plant pots!” You wailed out, “They were adorable!”

“The ones Izzie sells?”

“Those exact ones! With cute little props and costumes.. Gah! I coulda gotten one..”

“You could buy one from her store itself.”

“C’mon now, Din!” He liked how you say his name. Light-hearted, airy, as if it were cute. “Free stuff is something we shouldn’t pass up on! Especially if it's cute shiny porcelain!”

With that said, three days later, right at your doorstep, you wake up to a package- and inside it was those same penguin plant pots, and in your favorite color too. Attached was a note saying: Don’t worry, for you, these are free. -D.

Just from that signature, you knew it was him.

For Din, it was genuinely a spontaneous buy, and no wonder you wanted to get one free, they were fucking expensive, then again they were pretty. So once he saw them perched up at Izzie’s shelves, he instinctively went to his wallet and boom! He bought at least two

One that reminded him of you, as if they pottered up a mini penguin who just resembles your most notable things about yourself. Even had a prop of your trusty tool for your little hobby. And the other was the one who was basically him, it even had a leather jacket, and he was sure he needed to get it.

Definitely for no other reason.

His mind suddenly snaps out from the trance, as his body relaxes from the now peaceful waters. It made him be chucked out from his little walkthrough through memory lane, punching down a stop button as he heard loud thuds! “You all right?” He raises his voice, hoping that the man could hear him from the end of the boat.

“Yeah- pretty peachy yeah- wait no- actually- gimme a sec— Crap no- no- the diary— shit-“ More rummaging by the rear, Din calms (not really). With seagulls screeching out and the winds roaring through his ears, they were the only sound that rushed through that tranquility, which stops as the quiet seeps through the cracks. “Hey? Steven?” He calls out, concerned with his tag-a-long.

The silence just continues; it was just a storm being brewed right at the two of them— Confusion and fear bubbled through Din. Did Steven get thrown off the boat? He better not have- He can’t have a guest literally drown under his (not so) watchful eye. That would be bad taxi service.

Ok maybe he really needs to stop referencing that joke, it was only relevant around two years ago, when Peli actually made it funny. To some extent.

Getting out of seat, he swiftly walks by, searching for his companion. Looking back at the nooks and sides, nothing, he even looked up at the roof, and there were nothing but a few gulls perched up like it's their nests. He didn’t bother to shoo them away, they’ll fly out once the boat moves again.

But he was really growing anxious, like palm-sweaty worries. Where the hell could this guy have gone? In this whole ship? Especially when most of the rooms are locked?

Guard raising higher, not only was he tense, he was growing some sort of suspicion. He was growing distrustful. Genuinely he didn’t want to feel that way for this poor man, especially with his pitiful display earlier, but what if that was all a trick? He didn’t like the thought of that.

Din finally catches a figure by the corner of his eye. It was Mister Stoaway, resting his forearms at the railing of the boat as his hands fidget on his sleeve.

Relief washed over Din. “That’s where you were.” Was all he said, approaching him. “You were too silent, made me think you got thrown overboard.” He added in to ease the quiet.

But something felt off, he noticed. Something felt very wrong. As if the air shifted from the cool breeze to burning hot.

“¡Dónde coño estoy?” (Where the fuck am I?!)

Now this. This is where Din gets confused. Even more confused with his silence, because, wasn't this man British earlier??

“I don’t understa—“

“No te lo vuelvo a repetir, pendejo.” (I won’t repeat myself, dumbass.) He said, leaving no room for any excuse nor any sorries. “¿Dónde estoy yo? Y ¿Quién cojones son vosotros?” (Where am I? And who the fuck are you?)

Shit, how was he going to deal with this? The man was literally on the verge of tears earlier about a damn water taxi schedule, and now he’s a raging man spitting out Spanish- a language he does not understand, mind you- what the fuck happened? And as he gets pestered continually with angry questions in a whole ‘nother language, he finally understood with his slight regret.

Don’t take in strangers.

-x-

Evie squawked at you, “Gods! With all that marriage talk, I’m still surprised you out of all people never got married.”

“Oh we’re not delving on that topic, Eves.”

You look at your side, seeing one of your employees struggling with carrying a few boxes. “Hold on a sec-“ You come closer and pick up one of them, trampling your way to the kitchen then back to the courtyard. Another came up to you, asking you things on the lines about “fixing” and “windows.”

Your two accomplices just looked at you at once. Somewhat. As you peeked, you knew what that meant, they were concerned, maybe they thought you were overworking. Which you are. For fifteen years. “Now where was I? Ah yeah, you already know the drill. Marriage is not- and will never be for me.”

Anne didn’t seem keen on putting such a topic just yet,deciding to just quip. “Aye, ya say that but you got yaself a kid, things can definitely change.”

“Anne… That’s different.”

“C’mon, ya’ve been on this rock for more than a decade yet ya still haven’t found anyone?” Anne cried out. “That’s a little tragic now that Anne says it like that..” Evie mused, earning a wince from you. Wow alright, that does sound bad.

But sometimes -well maybe most of the time- you like to be in denial. “It’s really not you two, really I have the hotel with me and Luka, and besides-“ A pause threatening to leave them on a cliffhanger. “I did try to.. once.”

“WHAT?!”

Your lips pursed, “Hush! You’re being too loud!”

“Well this is new to us!” Evie screeched, “How did it go?”

“I tried the uh- Tinder app.” You rolled your eyes once more, “It went absolutely nowhere,” You seemed mortified for even trying to get on that colossal mess of a platform. “When I was looking at some people there, one of them had their wedding photos as their profile! Wedding!”

They better just have used it on they looked ‘good’ -sure, lie to yourself he looked like a toerag, you thought-.. Maybe that was his ex-wife, or the guy just had such an ego thinking he can pull twice— you wouldn’t know, you wouldn’t dare to learn. No no, you told yourself, you’re better than this, curiosity will just bite you in the ass. You think.

“Besides- pssh- That’s already a giant red flag on its own!”

“More than a red flag than-“ Then Anne coughs, that’s when you caught on to her joke.

“You didn’t.”

“I just did.”

“I mean-“ You started laughing louder, “You aren’t wrong— Even Marc wouldn’t stoop so low-“ You stop yourself. Shit. Ceasing, you bit the inside of your cheek, and suddenly you had the urge to just hit your head with your palm, you were supposed to keep a secret ‘til you were on your grave.

“..Who do you mean… Marc?” It clicked on both of their heads at the same time, like a connected light switch.

“Uhm-“

“Gods, ya are full of surprises right now!” Anne yelled out, and you were sure if it weren’t for her sunglasses, you would see her bulging eye sockets out of pure shock. “Marc, MARC? WHO THE HELL IS HE?”

“Zip it!—“

“What happened to our code?! Telling everything and anything?!” Evie clutched her heart, as if she were betrayed and left bleeding out by a sullen lover. “Ladies- ladies— not here—“ You tried to say but your words got chopped off like fish as they both screeched in unison. “WHERE ELSE?” They butted all in at your face. Letting out an awkward laugh, you go. “Not here-“ You look around, seemingly alarmed. “Come on! Upstairs—“

“What about the wedding plans? Introductions! To the two brides?!”

“Those lovebirds can wait- let them be lovey-dovey—“ Dragging yourself upstairs, up to the third floor, to your room. They were screaming, and gods you wished you knew how to keep your mouth shut, now you have questions to deal with, answers to tend to.

Staircase after staircase, you drag these two with you, ignoring each gsp and yell they have from the creaking wooden planks. Maybe next time you’ll fix it, maybe next time you’ll replace the material. It’s always a “next time.” But you know you don’t have many of those in life. You had enough of running, maybe it's time to settle and let it out for once.

Finally right at your bedroom door, you bust it open, rushing yourself to your bedside table. Your hands feasting itself to your chase, you try to find your most hidden possession.

Your diary from twenty years ago.

“Damn- I don’t remember putting this here, oh whatever—“ But before you could even say anything else, Evie took the diary from you, making you yelp. “Hey, give it back!”

“I know you, and you’d definitely omit some details here given the chance!” She replied, Anne only trudged right next to Evie, already wanting to know the details. “It’s only fair you give us the truth, the whole truth.”

“Fine! Do what you will! Just—“ But before you could continue, Evie goes. “April 3- A Drive. A fucking drive. Wow, so interesting.”

“-Don’t read it out loud. Darn. Nevermind.” You only earn yourself giggles like teenagers. This was like all of those sleep-overs you had with them back then, when you all were still boy-crazy and Anne was actually still in the dating field.As the two were right at your bed, you followed, laying down chest first to your blankets.

“Let her have her fun.” Anne cheekily whispers to you, making you roll your eyes jokingly. Evie coughs out almost obnoxiously, making you two snap your heads in her direction, and she continues.

“Din suddenly asked me to go for a drive with him. A bloody motor ride. Honestly I thought he wanted to pick up something when he first asked me but it wasn’t? He said he felt- impulsive. And oh how I wish maybe sometimes he would be impulsive all the time.

But it was a weird thing to ask- I mean- none of us had a car. How would that work? I asked him, but he only winked, something I've never seen him do, but I welcome it. Suddenly BAM! I went to the parking lot with him and there was a motorcycle. I yelled and laughed with him in surprise as he held me up on it. Sweet, it was.. endearing.

Though his hand is well- occupied, seating my face by his shoulder works too. The comfort of him just letting me rest by him as he drove us all around the mainland until the docks, it felt.. nice. Just the view, and the two of us, shoulder by shoulder. Hand in hand.

He’s a simple man, never was a romantic, but damn it, I loved his effort in trying. It made me think that he really likes me. and I hope he knows I like him too.”

“Ooooooo cheeky.”

“Shut it.” You were gonna have your eyeballs fall off if you keep on rolling your eyes. Evie only chuckles- or err, more of a squeak.

“Fine fine, ahem— April 8- Wow.

Marc. Fucking. Spector. Taking me on a picnic? Well that sounds unreal to me. Until now that is.

He took me to the south of the island, and up I see is the most romantic thing I think he’s ever done. All on that little blanket, he got me the foods I’d talk about that I’ve been wanting to try, and everytime I wouldn’t like something, he laughs and fakes disgust with me, even when it was obvious that he liked them.

I wasn’t a fan of one of the seafood dishes, so I couldn't really recall the name, though I thought I was gonna gag from it. I saw him like the dish, I know, seriously? Marc Spector, liking something? Well I like to think I’m one of those things Yes he actually does. But how?

I could tell if he liked them of course. It’s a little secret just for me to keep, but there would be a little dimple that would come up right by his cheek, and a little sparkle in his eye. It’s cute. But every time he’d smile over something.. he hides it with a smirk.

He thinks he can fool me, but I can see through it. He was the type of guy to wear a tough exterior, even if he tries to hide it with fake sneers and eye rolls, I can and will always tell, maybe because I’m observant with him.”

Evie only gives you a look before continuing again. You give one back as a warning.

“April 12- I forgot about the festival.

Well until Jake suddenly invited me as he was delivering some stuff to my dad. Well technically he was helping out earlier, apparently dad said it was for summer money, but sincerely I think otherwise, maybe for me? or maybe that’s just me wanting to dream.

The festival was a lovely event. The decorations that stashed itself to the booths, and the mainland’s plaza were so gorgeous, as if you were walking through the night sky, by the stars. But rather than that, we joined onto the festivities, the singing and dancing. And wow, I must say he’s a good singer.

He was literally singing my favorite song, I’m even surprised he remembered, was it that special to him as it was to me?requesting the musicians to help him out. God I felt like I was some sort of school girl with a man crush because I was going red. Like, if you were to dye a pure white shirt red, it’d be just as bright. It was just- so unexpected, I would have never thought of him singing. But when he did, it was just- I have no words. It was good. Great. That’s all I can say.

He also choired along the singers, dragging me along gently to the plaza’s middle, right with the dancing people. They all played songs for romantic dances, for family ensembles and we both were invited, our arms always locked in together not to get lost, he would say. But that tone of his, it makes me believe that it also means something else, but I might be overthinking it.

When the third dance ended, we rushed away from the dance floor, gasping and racing each other as he rushed to the stalls while he had me chase after him. And as much as this man was fit, god damn it, he was fucking fast, he had me running as if I were in the Olympics.

By the time I reached him, he had his hand clasped tightly, and once I fully looked, there was a necklace with a sun pendant in his hand. And as he wraps it around my neck with that handsome smirk he always wears, he tells me.

Eres el sol para mi luna.

I don’t know what it means, I’ve tried to ask but he only winks. From the way he said it, it sounded.. sweet, but how would I know? Whatever it meant, luna means moon and sol means sun.. I could assume from el and mi… the sun.. my moon.

I don’t want to assume but.. is it a love confession? That.. deep? Would Jake do such a thing? Or am I just making a big deal? I hope it was, if it were, I would be over the moon.. literally.

“Sois las estrellas de mi luna..” Evie repeats, it was strange to hear that from someone else’s voice, it felt.. too weird. To the point that it felt traitorous, and for what reason? You couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Is the necklace the one you always wear nowadays?” And your nod was the only answer she received.

“Alright then… April 17- Why am I so surprised of Steven asking me on a date?

I guess because I’d be the one asking him usually, well.. I didn’t mind, so it was fine. But damn, I could get used to this.

He pointed at the moon, and he would tell me stories. Crafting it with artistic words and with a bright story-telling grin on his face. He was always animated, talking as his hands made its way through the air, marvelling as he narrates his favorite story. (it was the Myth of Khonshu, known Pathfinder he would add) He would marvel at how the god paved ways for travellers in the night in the desert, shining the moon brightly for light, and making paths for them to walk in sand.

Even if I couldn’t see it, my imaginations soared from him. Usually I sometimes hate it when people chatter too much, it makes me think that they’re all wasting my time.

And honestly this wasn’t the type of date I expected, but its him, it’s something he would do. It’s a Steven thing and that’s why its so special.

And that’s also why even though it was just another retelling of this story, I couldn’t help but listen with heart eyes. It felt easy to listen, and for once, I actually wanted him to talk for hours. and only him specifically. And how can I not listen to him? I do get to see that adorable twinkle in his eye. He’s a nerd after all. A cute one too.”

And that was the last diary entry, only those experiences you obviously cherished, especially when you kept this journal right by you. Evie then closed the diary, and looks at you again.

“.. What happened to all of them?”

“I..” You kept it far behind your mind for so long, you didn’t know where to start. Bug now the lock is finally now being picked, with rust collecting, its snapping open slowly. “I.. It’s a little difficult, it just .. happened.”

Difficulty makes everything hard just to finally shut this chapter off of your life. To end this wonder you have in your mind, to finally end the questions in your mind, on why?

Evie stood up, opening the double doors to your balcony. You trample your way right outside, holding on to the railing, the other only looked at you, and you hoped it wasn’t pity. You didn’t need that. All you need maybe, was closure. Maybe to see them.

No. Absolutely not. You are not going to turn back to the pages of your life, you need to skim forward. Because that’s the right thing to do right?

But as you look down, you see them. Right outside your hotel. At the fucking lobby.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Well maybe you need to revise a page or two.

There they were, Din, with his leather jacket and.. no. Was that..? No no, he acted differently, you knew how he acted. This, this was Jake. Oh god. Memories flood back in like a supposed secure dam just cracked.

“What— What’s going on?-“ One of them says, but it just blurs out, not bothering to respond to them. You were already running down the stairs, not bothering to hear your friends out. Like a madman, you felt adrenaline rush through you.

Your heart pumped with excitement, you found a new mission. Don’t let this go. You can’t miss this- no, absolutely not.

One two three, one two three, you count in your head with each heavy breath, and finally on the last flight of stairs, you skip a few steps and just quicken the pace. Hopping off from the last tread, you didn’t realize that they were already by the front door, and that you almost headbutted straight through them.

But still- thank fuck. You didn’t miss it. One of their hands clutching both your arms, balancing you from your rushing. Looking up, you didn’t miss how Din looked at you with a change from his rigid posture, the awkwardness fading so quickly. How you would have missed Jake’s shine in his eyes if you weren’t as observant as you were, as it was something that doesn’t appear as easy as you would think.

“You still make a grand entrance, mi sol.” (my sun)

You would usually make a comment, just to tip Jake off a little from his balance. But you didn’t, instead you really threw him off by just grabbing his shoulder and pulling him- along with a surprised Din who yelped- to a giant hug.

You breathe in, into the warmths of them. It was as if you were afraid to let go, that they’d disappear from your sight, and that you would never feel their skin right by yours ever again if you wrench your hands away.

“You alright?” Din asks you, you only weakly chuckle.

“I just- missed you guys so much.” You inhale again, “Mi querida/o (My darling), I’m here now. We’re here now.”

The rays of the sun shine through you, and the past continues to enter your mind, like a stream. You didn’t bother to ask why they were here, it could have been a trick of fate, but you could care less, the only thing that mattered was that they’re here. With you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

And it was April, summer.. all over again.

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