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hockeyblogg · 4 years

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brat - f.andersen

A/N: I wrote this in like two hours, by far the fastest I’ve ever written lmao, but I really hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: Smut, Language.

Freddie couldn’t lie, he loved the idea of public sex, and if he weren’t the starting goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs, you both would have fucked in nearly every restaurant or club in this city, but he had a lot at risk, and so did you. He didn’t want to give you both a bad name, so he refrained. Little did he know you have been thinking the exact same thing, but you’re less competent and also less patient. Public sex intrigued you; the possibility of getting caught excited you to no end and you had tried on one or more occasions to get Freddie to cave in to his desires, but he was keen on standing his ground.

That’s why tonight you decided was going to be the time you finally got what you wanted. The leafs have a banquet tonight to raise money for a couple of charities that the organization is partnering with and the entire team is required to go, of course.

Your plan was very simple, since Freddie was very protective and possessive over you, all you had to do was flirt a little with a couple rookies, you meant no harm obviously but your goal was to get Freddie mad, that way he would have no choice but to punish you in a secluded hallway or an empty broom closet, maybe even one of the bathrooms. That thought alone had you squirming.

You smooth out the dress you had on and take one more look in the mirror, hearing Freddie call you from downstairs. You grab your matching purse and head down, also carrying your heels. As you get down you hear Freddie let out a whistle, “damn baby, do a twirl for me.” you do as he says and spin around, hearing a “whoo!” coming from him, you giggle and look up, seeing him recording you on his phone, “Freddie, stop ittt!” he laughs and ends the video and you see him typing, then hear your phone ding.

You take it out of your purse and read the notification, ‘frederikandersen31 mentioned you in a story” You gape at him, “Why did you post it?” He smiles and grabs your hand in his, leading the way out, “because you’re beautiful, now come on.”

It was a quick drive to the hotel where the banquet was being held and as Freddie gave the valet the keys, he grabs your hand in his other and you both walk inside, making a right, straight into the banquet room. You immediately spotted Mitch and Steph and tugged Freddie’s hand to signal the way. He flicks his head toward them in greeting and when you reach the couple you’re pulling Steph into a hug, “Hey girl, nice to see you. You look so beautiful.” She smiles back at you, “You look gorgeous as well hun, come on, let’s get you a drink.” You laugh as she pulls you away and both boys smile at your retreating forms.

___

It’s been about an hour and you’re fairly buzzed and haven’t seen Fred around since you’ve arrived. Knowing he’s probably mingling about with some charitable men and women, you walk around the room and spot Nicholas at the bar, you smirk to yourself and walk up to him, ordering yourself another small drink and turning to face him, “Hey Nicky.” He shyly smiles at you, “Hi Y/N.” you giggle, “You don’t have to be shy, it’s just me.” He meekly nods and gestures around the room, “Yeah I know, this is just, taking some getting used to.” You nod in understanding and glance to your side, and right on cue, Freddie is standing a few feet away from you, talking to an older couple.

You look at Nick again and glance at his drink, “What’re you having?” He tips his glass, “Just a Smirnoff, you?” You hum, “Same.” You look him up and down and give him a flirty smile, “You look really good tonight.” You see his eyes widen and he nervously glances around the room and you presume it’s to look for your boyfriend, “You know, we haven’t really gotten to talk a lot. You’re doing really well so far this season.” His ears perk up and he gives you a grateful smile, “Really? Thank you, I thought I was doing terrible but so far everyone has been wishing me well and stuff, so maybe I’m doing something right.”

You nod along to his words and take just a step closer, “Everyone is nervous during their first year, but you’ll get the hang of it, you’re a talented kid.” He’s practically beaming now and you coo at the pride in his eyes. He really was a great kid, and you kind of felt bad for making him this nervous. He probably thought you had ill-intentions which isn’t what you were trying to do, but he’ll realize soon enough.

You step closer to Nick and place a hand on his suit jacket, rubbing the material in between your fingers, “Wow, is this velvet?” He stutters and nod, “Uh, ye-yeah, I just got it today.” You hum and lean into him, “I bet it feels good on your skin.” His eyes widen and he coughs, “Um, yeah I guess.” You raise an eyebrow and peer up at him, “You okay?” You look away and back at Freddie, not waiting for a response and you see him glance your way and shoot you a smile but he does a double take and his smile falters but picks back up when he sees you’re with one of his teammates. He goes back to speaking with the couple and you pout, trying to think of a way for him to look at you.

As if on cue, Gauthier and Sandin walked up to you both and you greeted them, “Hey guys, it’s good to see you.” They do the same and pretty soon you’re all drinking together in your little group. You haven’t been drinking a lot from your glass, yet you still take this as an opportunity to lean on Freddy while laughing at a joke that Sandin had told. He respectfully keeps you up right and asks if you want him to get Freddie, you shake your head and lean up to speak in his ear, “I’m okay right here.” He smiles and nods at you and continues the conversation.

Meanwhile across the room is your boyfriend, who saw your little smirk as you whispered in his teammates ear. His brows furrow and his lips form a scowl, he instantly knew what you trying to do, reading you like a book. He’s trying his best to focus on the lady in front of him but he can’t keep his eyes off your antics, watching as you throw your head back and slyly move your hand on Fred’s forearm. His jaw clenches and the grip he has on his glass tightens but he stays with the guests, giving you a little more time to straighten out and stop testing his patience.

Unfortunately for him, it takes about fifteen more minutes of watching you flaunt around his three teammates and he’s finally wrapping up the conversation and excusing himself, stalking toward you with a harsh glare on his face. As soon as he’s in reaching distance of you, he’s gripping your upper arm and pulling you away from the group, not even sparing the boys a glance. He’s dragging you out of the banquet room and into one of the bathrooms, walking into the biggest stall and slamming the door shut, pushing you against it with your cheek pressing into the door.

“Think you can just come here and flirt with a bunch of my teammates? That isn’t why I brought you here.” He has one of his hands gripping your hair, the other on your lower back, and you can feel his stomach press into you from behind, you squirm, “Well then why did you bring me here, I haven’t seen you all night, I needed attention from someone.” He chuckles into your hair, “Oh so that’s what you wanted huh, attention? cause you’re such a whore for it?” You gasp at his words, and he smirks, “Say it.” You shake your head and try to resist his grip but he only tightens it. Yanking your hair back, you whimper at the pain on your scalp and let out a few breaths, “Fuck it...I’m an attention-whore, I want it, I want it from you.” He spanks you over your dress, “Of course you are, look at you, getting turned on and I’ve barely touched you, what if someone were to walk in here, hm? They’d hear your dirty little sounds and I bet your panties would be dripping at the fact you’ve been caught, isn’t that right?” You whine because of course he’s right. What you would give for someone to walk in right now and see you and Freddie in such a provocative way, a way no one has ever seen you before.

Despite your age difference and the maturity of your relationship, you’re known as the innocent couple, or rather the most reserved with that sort of stuff. Freddie never told the guys about your sex life and you haven’t told any of the girls, you’d both rather keep your fantasies and kinky thoughts within the relationship, and maybe that’s why you both got off on the thought of public sex. If you were to get caught, everyone would find out what you both are really like, how dirty you two really were.

You feel your dress being hiked up and Freddie grabs your ass before moving his fingers to your core, you close your eyes tightly as he rubs your clit, “You’re wet baby, such a naughty girl.” he places kisses onto the nape of your neck and bites harshly on the spot behind your ear, “You want me to fuck you elskede, hm? Wanna feel me?” You nod frantically and try not to be too loud, even though you want to be so bad. “Fred please, need you badly, inside.” You can’t even properly speak but Fred’s always one step ahead of you, and so you immediately feel his thick length sliding inside your cunt and you sigh.

He moves his hips fast, not wasting anytime in getting you both to your highs, he’s grabbing you everywhere and anywhere, your hips, ass, neck, hair, arms, anything to get him to move his hips faster into you and he’s loving every sound you make; every whimper, whine, moan of his name gets him closer and closer and soon he feels his dick begin to twitch, so he moves one hand around you to rub at your clit, “Come on baby, want you to cum for me, and you’re not going to be quiet about it either.” He pants in your ear and you whine and move your hips with his fingers, getting yourself closer, and finally feeling the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

“Fred, I’m gonna cum...” you all but moan out, your voice bouncing off the walls of the stall, and he lets go of your hair to wrap it around your neck, pulling you back and biting your earlobe, “Cum for me baby.” Your high catches you off guard and his name falls from your lips quite loudly, but he doesn’t cover your mouth nor does he tell you to be quiet. He’s still moving his hips and he asks, “Where do you want me to cum?” You move your hips back into his, “Inside me, please Freddie cum inside me.” You don’t usually ask him to do so, not liking the mess it leaves, but it’s so damn hot how he has you pleading for him in a bathroom stall only a room over from all his teammates, important sponsors and all the media, who can possibly hear what you’re doing right now and you’re still so wet, nearing your second orgasm of the night that you just don’t care, you need him inside you, and you want to feel his warm cum coating your walls, and that’s exactly what you tell him.

Freddie groans at your filthy words, his dick twitching one last time before he’s spilling into you and it feels so good and so naughty at the same time, your toes curl as you cum, and the force has your knees buckling but Freddie has his arms around you, holding you to him.

The bathroom that was once filled with your moans and the slapping of skin, is now filled with your and Freddie’s heavy breathing, trying to calm down. Freddie is the first to recover and he helps you to pull your panties up, keeping his cum from dripping down your legs and straightens your dress out, also helping you to stand up straight. He noticed that he’s left a bite mark but he quickly hides it behind your hair, “You alright elskede?” You nod and fall into him, still breathing hard, “You know I was only flirting with the boys to get you mad, right? I only have eyes for you.” He lets out a laugh and wraps his arms around you, “Of course I did elskede, you love being a brat don’t you?” You nod and curl into him as best you can, but he pulls away, “Come on, let’s get you home before you fall asleep on me.” He gently leads you back out of the washroom and looks around for any sign of people and is grateful when he sees nobody. He’s walking you both out of the hotel when out of the corner of his eye he sees a younger guy, around your age, who by the look of his uniform was a bellhop, and when he gets a good look at him he smirks at his blushing face.

Guess you were a little too loud.

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagines #Frederik andersen x reader #freddy andersen imagines #freddy andersen x reader #freddie andersen imagines #freddie andersen x reader #toronto maple leafs writings #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl x reader #my writings

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giyuwu-san · 4 years

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burn the stage — part 1 // dabi

— A multi-chapter fic complete with your favorite indie and mainstream bops. Watch as you fall in love with the captivating guitarist of a band one drunken, perfect night. (BAND AU)

↱ PAIRING : Dabi x Female!Reader

↱ WORD COUNT : 5K

↱ WARNINGS : Mentions of alcohol, Suggestive themes, Strong language, Dabi being hot

↱ TAGS : @yusemis @lordexplosionsextra @astrrnmy @basicallyberry @j-brielmalfoy (I actually remembered my taglist this time wow)

↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : Thank you sosososo much to @kaikamikazi for allowing me to use her likeness for Kai’s character! Happy birthday to my favorite clown <3 everyone please wish her a happy birthday woot woot !!! And also huge huge thanks to @doughnuts-5ever and @jojosmilktea for helping me proofread/betaread this fic huhu it was a whole ass mess you guys are absolute legends tysm!!

↱ PLAYLIST

↱ SERIES MASTERLIST

------------------------------------------------✈

scene one; no song

"Thousands of years ago, our ancestors looked up at the night sky and saw a field of lights."

The aged man paced around the room, hands folded behind his back and hair graying by the roots. His side facing the blackboard on the wall, he continued;

"None of them really knew what they were," he stopped and looked at the vast sea of students perched atop of chairs in the big room. "But, they made a fascinating observation."

You sat listening to your professor, your chin perched on your open palm, and eyes focused on the notebook that sat idly on your connected desks.

"They noticed that the patterns were predictable and had clear effects." The man said with some form of self-acknowledged eureka, his left hand coming up to the height of his face, index finger pointing up at the heavily-lit ceiling. "The seasons, the tides, the harvests."

"Incredible, isn't it?" he resumed.

The man was about to continue on his tangent. But that was until a hand shot up in the air, followed by a voice.

"Uhm, professor?" the boy who raised his hand asked. "Aren't we supposed to be learning about chemistry?"

Your professor looked at him, who now appeared to be slightly frightened by the blank but disrupted gaze of his teacher.

“Pfft—”

You turned around to see your friend Kai, her head resting upon her folded arms. Was she seriously trying to sleep through the lesson again?

“The one opportunity we got to sleep,” she sighed. “You just had to ruin it, brainy.”

“Is that seriously what you call a sufficient insult?” you asked as you fully tilted your head towards her direction.

“Wasn’t saying it to insult him.” She said casually as she massaged her head with the hand closest to her, face still partially buried within her entangled arms. “Wasn’t saying it to compliment him either though.”

You scoffed.

“You’re unbelievable,” and at that, the darker-skinned girl turned to you with horror in her eyes.

“Oh no,” she said petrified.

“What?”

“You’re being a Karen again.”

You looked at her dumbfounded, sighing.

“I am not being a Karen,” you started. “I’m just saying—”

It was already too late, however, as Kai had both her hands covering her ears, blocking out your protests as well as all her other life issues.

You sighed once more and turned your attention back to your professor, your notebook still open on your desk.

“Your semester is practically over,” said your professor, standing idly in front of all the students, his left hand reaching up to habitually play with the fabric of his suit tie.

“So, let me have some me-time every once in a while," he continued.

‘You never let us have any me-time—’ is what you could feel the hoard of tired students internally screaming around you.

The aged man cleared his throat and set along to once again resume his lengthy ramble.

“Where was I?” he asked himself, his feet already departing from his standstill position in the middle of the room as he started walking about once more.

“Ah yes, so it seemed logical that these lights shaped everything else in our lives. But with the scientific method disproving all these theories, why do people still look for meaning in the stars?”

A hand shot up in the air once again, only to be shot back down by a quick hand gesture from the professor.

“Calm down now, I’m not done yet,” he said.

“Many prolific historical figures of our kind, such as the Iikes of William Shakespeare, have used the concept of astrology as a metaphorical expression, more than an actual study. Whether or not he truly believed in it, he still used the idea of astrology to create some of his most well-known epigrams to date,” he continued.

“With lines such as; ‘These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.’ from King Lear, ‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life.’ from Romeo and Juliet— I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with that one." He faced the students once more. "And my utmost favorite, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars—’”

“But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

“—From Julius Caesar,” the professor smiled. “Well done, Miss L/N.”

Shock settled into your form, having realized that you had said that much louder than you had anticipated. Now with the burning stares of your classmates and uncontrolled laughter coming from a seatmate you used to call your best friend, you let out an exasperated sigh, head falling onto your desk and arms protecting you from the unfiltered judgment of the outside world.

You sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day before finally coming out of hiding, your chin once again finding shelter in your welcoming palm. You stared down at your open notebook, observing each line and angle. Stared at the drawings of orbits clashing together with the unwelcome intrusion of jotted scientific equations. A picture of the sun as each planet aligned themselves accordingly within their rotation, along with the lengthy compound formula of 4 Bromo, 3-4 Dichloro, Ethyl Hexanoate, written briskly, and uncared for.

But despite your apparent unhappiness and deep-rooted sorrow, you lifted your head forward and listened to the lesson in front of you.

"You seriously need to loosen up," said Kai, her head faced towards you. "When was the last time you danced to music alone in your bedroom?"

You thought about it for a second.

She sighed.

"You're so sad," she sighed once more and patted your head. "Poor baby."

She brought her hand down from the crown of your head, arm now resting on your shoulders as she brought you in closer.

"I'm gonna get you laid tonight," she said with conviction. You looked at her profile, absolutely bewildered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"That's right," she nodded her head in content. "You're having sex tonight, just leave it to me."

"Shouldn't we work on having me dance to music alone in my bedroom first?" you countered.

"Even better," she grinned at you with the type of grin your primary teachers warned you about. You know, those creepy man smiles that you should run away from when faced with in a dark, ominous alley? "I'm taking you to a bar."

You could feel Mrs. Peterson screaming at you to run.

But nobody really listened to Mrs. Peterson. Sorry.

You sighed once more at your beaming friend and nodded your head slowly.

"Whatever," you finally said. Attention spanning back to the lecture in front of you as you turned your head. "After the class ends."

Kai smiled and leaned back into her chair, legs crossing and folded arms supporting her head from behind. She looked utterly satisfied.

"Alright Karen," she said.

"My name is not Karen," you grumbled.

"Then stop being such a Karen and let me have my fun," she closed her eyes and smiled. Totally abandoning the lecture playing out before her. Chemistry was all just a bunch of bullshit anyway.

scene two; black eyes

Ambient lighting and muffled voices were what greeted you and Kai as you both entered the bar. The light that shone down above you cast an evanescent sheen across the tiny, hidden bar.

You fumbled in with your red dress and heeled boots, bridging the edge of comfortable and painfully exposed. It’s been years since you've last worn a dress.

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of ancient speakeasy?" you asked Kai, uneasy.

"A speakeasy for bands and stuff sure," she shrugged. "Sadly, no dancing flapper girls, so sorry to disappoint."

You nodded and started heading towards the bar. No matter how badly you wanted to keep up the 'holier than thou' attitude, college was rough and unforgiving.

You ordered your drink and sat down on the stool, Kai following you shortly after as she sat beside you.

"I heard there's gonna be a good band playing tonight," she rings up the bartender and orders a drink.

She takes one look at your drooping face and sighed, her hand coming up to massage your shoulder.

"Loosen up," she takes a sip from her drink, "just for tonight, okay?"

You sighed and nodded timidly, copying her as you took a swig of your own drink.

"Looks like they're almost up," she taps your shoulder. "Mr. Compress is about to introduce them."

"Mister wha—" she shushes you before you could continue, leaving you no other choice but to sigh and watch.

The man with the strange name took center-stage with the microphone in his hand. The crowd seemed to know who he was, for they cheered and started gathering at the front of the stage.

"Let's go take a closer look too," Kai stood up and started dragging you with her. "Take your drink with you."

You looked at the already half-empty glass and shrugged, opting to chug it down instead. You finished your drink and walked with Kai towards the pit of people, still confused about what exactly was going on.

The strangely named man started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he threw his free hand in the air by his side flamboyantly. "What an incredible pleasure to have you all here tonight. I am delighted to see some familiar faces, and some new ones too."

He grinned.

"I'm sure a lot of you are here to relieve some stress, no?" he asked, and the crowd cheered in affirmation. The man chuckled and continued;

"Well, I best not keep my wonderful patrons waiting then." The crowd cheered louder. "Without further delay, may I present to you, The Villain League!"

The crowd roared as four people took the stage, varied instruments at their disposal, but the one that caught your eye was the one that stood at the center, a guitarist, and a good looking one at that.

He was mostly dressed in dark clothing, aside from the white t-shirt he wore under his long coat. His features were hidden beneath the shadow cast by the dimmed lights.

And that was when the music started.

Electric guitar blinded your senses and opened your eyes. The exhilarating sound numbed the nerves that coursed through your entire body. Every hair on your body stood on its roots, awakened by the new thrill of music.

The lights turned on to the max, and the crowd went wild. Hands flew up in the air, the drinks in the opposite limb gambling on the edge of death.

It was music like you've never heard before.

"Holy shit," you said to yourself, the alcohol in your system taking its effect.

The man in the middle started singing, and you gasped as you took in the rest of his features. A good portion of his face and neck were covered in burn marks, as well as the top of his torso, which then spread across his arms. You awed.

How could someone who looked so damaged be so perfect?

Your eyes watched in wonder as your ears listened with delight. You made a mental note to thank Kai for dragging you into one of the best nights of your life.

So this is what college was supposed to be like.

You smiled, feeling the bricks fall off your shoulders. You stood straighter as your eyes opened wider, and shined even brighter.

This is so awesome.

You threw your hands in the air and let out a scream with the rest of the crowd. Kai catches sight of this and follows along with your mania, a laugh escaping her lips.

You were enjoying the aura of absolute chaos, but nothing had prepared you the moment your eyes caught his, staring right back at you. His mouth formed a devilish smile that made all the heat rush through your body in mere seconds.

"The girl in the red dress," he said into the microphone. Your eyes widened in unalloyed shock as they caught sight of the mischievous glint in his own. "Come out on stage with us."

What the fuck?

The crowd cheered louder and started to look around to find who he was referring to. They soon caught sight of you, who was still calculating the odds of you being the only girl in red.

The sea of people parted and formed a direct path from you to the stage, and you were honestly shell shocked.

Kai laughed and cheered you on.

"Congrats Karen, you've officially been promoted to Moses!" she cheered even louder.

"What, I—" you sputtered out.

Kai took her left hand and smacked your back, forcing you to stumble forward.

"Go!" she yelled at you through the howls of the crowd. "Get. Fucking. Laid!"

At that, the crowd burst into an explosion of screams. Whistles and hoots were all that was heard as your shaking legs made its way towards the stage.

You eventually made it to the edge, and the enigmatic guitarist leaned down to help you. Grasping your hand firmly in his, he hoisted you up easily.

"What's your name?" he leaned into your ear as he said it, his steady voice combating all other noises, and winning.

"Y/N," you said right back into his ear, a shiver coursing through your body as the current situation was doing its number on your sanity.

"Nice shoes Y/N," he said cooly, and your head started spinning.

"Uh, thank you—"

"Let's have a good time together," he smirked at you, who blushed madly.

You looked over at the rest of his bandmates. A young girl with a blonde fringe manning the second electric guitar, she looked at you and grinned widely at you. Eyes smiled shut and tongue jutting out, she threw you a peace sign in welcome.

You looked behind you and saw a strange-looking man playing both the bass and keyboard. You made eye contact with him and he smiled, only for him to completely change his expression and give you the stink-eye, much to your confusion and anxiety.

Finally, you looked over at the drummer who had dead-looking baby blue hair; he glanced at you and nodded briefly in acknowledgment.

"Don't mind the last two," the mysterious guitarist chuckled, "they're a lot more decent than they seem."

You nodded and smiled at him.

"So," he started. "Care to join in on the fun?"

You took a deep breath.

"Okay."

It was funny how you had started with not even being able to dance alone in your room. And now here you were, dancing along with countless strangers to music you never felt before.

scene three; ilysb

"You're new here, right?" the man said. He was sitting across from you with his head resting on his hand. His piercing blue eyes were focused only on you.

It had been about an hour since you stepped foot inside the hidden bar and thirty minutes since you were standing on stage with the band having the time of your life.

You looked over to the stage and saw your drunk friend Kai singing 'I Kissed a Girl,' microphone in her hands as she belted her heart out to the cheering crowd.

You couldn't help but chuckle, before turning your attention back to the enigmatic man staring intently at you.

"That's not slightly creepy at all," you answered jokingly.

The man chuckled slyly.

"I play here almost every night," he retorted coolly. "I would have definitely remembered you if you weren't new."

You nodded. Smooth.

"Fuck men!" you turned around to find Kai screaming into the microphone, one hand on the microphone stand and the other on the microphone itself. You sighed at the common occurrence.

"Fun friend you got," the man with burn marks said, attention also brought over to your crazed friend.

You sighed and nodded.

"I'm this close to dropping her," you said with no conviction.

He seemed to have caught on to your tone and answered accordingly.

"But you never will," he said.

"Yup," you nodded once more.

You looked over to him again, the alcohol in your body taking full effect.

"Wanna get out of here?" you asked him.

He looked at you with his eyebrow raised, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"And abandon your fun friend?" he asked you.

"Yes," you looked at him straight in the eyes as you said it.

"Sounds fun," he said, already standing up from his seat.

You followed suit, casting your drunk friend one last look before following the strange man out of the small speakeasy.

The cold night air greeted your body that clung tightly onto the limited warmth of your sweater jacket. You walked idly with the man standing beside you, the streets painted a dark vignette by the evening sky. The night suited him, you thought.

You let out a deep exhale which invaded the darkness with its cold color, the hues fighting until the dull white was engulfed by the overwhelming darkness of nightfall.

You looked up at the stars that were scattered across the sky, their white twinkle enrapturing the night sky with its light and color. Their light so bright that it couldn't be overthrown by the darkness of black. Instead, they were displayed up in the sky, allowed to show off their beauty with no restraints.

"Orion's in the sky," you observed quietly.

The man turned over to look at you.

"The constellation?" he asked as he too tilted his head up to watch the night sky.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I can't find the Pleiades, though."

Absentmindedly, your feet started moving in hopes to catch sight of the constellation. The dark-haired man watched you quizzically.

"Do you really think moving around will make them appear?" he asked you, who was now trudging farther and farther away. He sighed and started following you.

"There're so many buildings around," you groaned in your drunken state. "Can't a girl just see her stars when she wants to?"

He tilted his head in slight amusement and chuckled lowly.

"If it's the buildings you're worried about, I know where there's a field," he said. You turned around instantly.

"Show me this field, good sir."

"It's this way," he tilted his head over to the right, feet already walking towards its direction. You followed him, skipping.

You eventually were led towards an open field located on a small hill in the park. Wow, we had a park?

"Woah," you said in wonder. Your arms flying up from your sides as you spun around the grass, hair dancing in the breeze from your movements.

The man just watched you curiously, a small smile of endearment flickering on his lips.

You let out a big sigh of contempt and threw yourself down onto the grass floor, feeling at peace as the earthly bodies embraced you. The man who led you here followed suit, leaving little to no distance between your two figures as he laid down beside you.

"Can you see the Pleiades now?" he asked from beside you.

You looked up and examined the heavens, and your eye immediately catches the open star cluster that painted the sky. A gasp escapes your lips as you point up at the constellation you were looking for.

"There they are!" you squealed slightly, unable to control your excitement in your drunken state.

"Why'd you want to see them so badly?" he looked at you and asked.

"If you catch sight of Orion, then you're most likely gonna find the Pleiades too." You started, eyes focused eagerly on the stars. "There's this whole story behind them you know, about Orion and the Seven Sisters.

"It was said by Greek mythology that Orion fell in love with the sisters, and pined over them for 12 years. He would always chase after them in hopes that they would become his someday. But that was until one day Zeus decided to turn him and the sisters into stars. So Orion could chase them forever for the rest of eternity but never once be able to touch them."

"Wow," he said from beside you.

"Yeah," you said from beside him.

"You said they were the Seven Sisters," he said.

"Yeah?" you turned your head over to look at him, his eyes seemingly glowing under the star studded sky.

"But I can only see six at most," he stated.

"Oh," you turned your head back to the sky. "That's because those are the only ones visible to the naked eye. If you look through a telescope, a dozen more stars are visible."

"Is there a story behind that, too?" he asked.

"Yup," you stated and continued. "According to storytellers, Merope— one of the sisters, is hiding her face because she's the only one of the sisters who married a mortal and thus isn't respected for it.

"Her husband, Sisyphus isn't represented in the night sky either, cause he was condemned by Zeus to forever roll a stone up a hill in Hades only to watch it roll down again when he almost gets it to the top."

"That's..." his voice drifted off, "really sad."

You hummed in affirmation.

"You really like astronomy, huh?" he stated. "I'm assuming you're into astrology too?"

"Yeah," you answered.

"So, you're some type of zodiac girl," he said. "How quirky."

You scoffed.

"What type of music are you into?" he suddenly changed the subject, surprising you.

"I don't listen to music that much honestly," you said, surprising him, but not showing it on his face.

"Okay," he said. "Very quirky."

You laughed at yourself.

"Are you okay?" he asked you jokingly, maybe the alcohol was finally starting to get to him too. "Childhood trauma? Emotional baggage? Crazy ex-boyfriend?"

"Traumatizing college life," you said matter-of-factly. "And also just downright not having the time to listen to music."

"Spotify's expensive, too," you added.

"Ever heard of a radio?" he asked.

"Yes, but I can never concentrate on studying when music is on," you said.

"Ah," he said in a moment of realization. "It all makes perfect sense now. What's your major?"

"Organic chemistry," you said.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Makes sense."

"Kindly enlighten me then, cause I can't make sense of anything going on in my life," you said.

"You're a young adult suffering from the expectations and academically-focused constructs of our society," he said.

"Damn," you started. "You're right."

You sighed and placed your attention back at the azure before you.

"The moon's crying," you stated.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"The moon feels sad," you answered vaguely.

"The moon is sad," he stated beside you, eyes now focused onto the heavenly body in question. "The moon's just a broken planet that needs the sun to make it shine."

"Just because it needs help doesn't mean their shine is any less beautiful," you said back.

A long silence passed between the two of you, he looked at you, whose focus was still set onto the night sky. Whatever had you so enchanted by them, he might never know, but as he watched your features bloom with the ethereal sparkle of night, the twinkle in your eyes matching— no, outshining that of the stars you looked so fondly upon, he just sighed softly.

"Whatever you say, zodiac girl."

scene four; still with you

You were walking home with him in the cold night air, wind dancing softly around both of your figures as the gentle shrill tickled your senses.

It was colder than usual, you thought. But maybe that was just from the thrill of not spending your nights like you usually did, alone in your bedroom studying a topic you couldn't care less about. You sighed.

When was the last time you were able to lay down on your bed listening to music?

You were grateful for Kai, who you just realized had been abandoned at the bar she forced you into. You prayed for your survival the following day. You say that, but in the end, you were nonetheless thankful for giving you a college experience other than cramming every day.

You thought about what you would have been doing if you weren't forced into the bar, and laughed at the predictability.

You finally made it to your front door.

"Goodnight," the blue-eyed man said to you.

"Yeah," you said back. "Thanks for walking me home."

He nodded and watched as you made your way over to your front door.

You stopped.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system, the cold night air, the thrilling atmosphere of spontaneity, or all of the above. But right now, you weren't in the mood to answer any multiple-choice questions.

You wanted to live for once. You wanted to feel anything else other than the dread of an upcoming deadline or relief after a grueling exam.

For once, you wanted— needed to be free of the expectations and academically-centered constructs of society. Constructs that you never wanted to question until now.

Even if it was only for tonight, you wanted to do the thing you wanted to do.

Even if it turns into a mistake, you would gladly take it for a few minutes of freedom.

You turned around and ran towards the man whose names you realized you didn't even know. But you were too far gone to be stopped.

Your hands found the side of his face and pulled your faces close, eyes meeting and lips almost touching. You breathed nervously.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked suddenly.

Shock and confusion flickered before his eyes but disappeared just as quickly.

"Sure—" he said, and your lips finally connected.

The kiss lasted for mere seconds until you pulled away, flustered and drunk and confused.

What were you doing?

You turned back around to enter your home and scream at yourself.

How could you just throw yourself at him like that?

But suddenly, his hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards him, connecting your lips once more. You could have sworn you melted.

The kiss lasted much longer, lips moving against one another and breaths being mixed together in the cold night outside your apartment building. Your hands in his hair and his arms around your shaking frame.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your air puffing up in the chilly twilight.

You pulled onto the sleeve of his jacket and led him towards your apartment, rushing past the other tenants and employees, you quickly got on the elevator where more kisses were exchanged in a drunken haze.

The elevator doors opened, and the two of you rushed out with you guiding him to your door.

You hurriedly put in your key, hands slightly shaking, the door opens and you hastily go inside.

He comes into your small apartment and closes the door with his foot, the door meeting the frame with a soft thud. He pushes you against the wall and your lips meet once again.

You didn't know how much time had passed with his lips moving against yours and hands roaming across your body, the contact sending both heat and shivers to course through your entire being.

His lips moved to your jaw, slowly making its journey down to your neck. Your breath hitched.

Some more time passed with low moans and heavy breathing coming from the both of you, now laying on your twin-sized bed half-naked.

You looked out the window beside your bed and saw the stars and moon staring back at you, illuminating your figures in its magical glow.

It was like time didn't exist when you were engulfed in his arms, his lips peppering your body in kisses and bite marks causing you to moan softly. You wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, with the moonlight shining softly on his features.

Your hands found themselves buried in his soft hair, time passing by faster as more clothes were being discarded around you.

"Y/N..." he said your name softly. His light voice passes by you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched. Having no name to call out to, you whimpered instead. Your bodies intertwined together under the dim light of your apartment, and your heart taking timid steps towards him, tripping and falling deeper and deeper.

It was colder than usual, the low-pitched hum of the air conditioner you forgot to turn off comforting you from afar. Your body shivered more, not used to the sensations. It felt good, it felt really good, but there was something about it that pained you and made you want to fall apart.

The unfamiliarity of the pleasure and sweat clouded your mind and made you think back to the times when you were studying instead. This was far different than the dull absence your mind feels when reviewing all your lessons. But even then, thinking back to the simple emotions that came from your textbooks and notes, maybe these simple feelings were special to you too.

The night progressed further, and time was lost once and for all in the midst of your shared pleasure, the night turning darker as the sparkling sky glowed onto your sweaty figures.

You both reached your climax and breathed heavily, eyes meeting and foreheads touching in what seemed like a hazy afterglow, both your minds fogged and judgments clouded.

Your hand delicately went up to touch his cheek, his eyes shimmering in the glow of the night sky. He looked at you with the faintest smile. Underneath it was painted the most beautiful purple, his broken and damaged face sending your heart into a fit of shooting stars.

His body collapsed next to you on the small bed, arms encasing you tightly against his warm body.

You looked over to the window beside your bed. The sun was slowly rising, and the moon began to fade away into the brightening sky.

You felt your eyes slowly closing, finally giving in to the sleep you denied yourself all night.

Goodbye moon.

And just as the moon left your sky that February sunrise, so did the man who slept next to you that very next day.

#dabi x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha oneshot #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha oneshot #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi oneshot #happy birthday kaiiii #mwah mwah !!

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lady-plantagenet · 4 years

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I see you are inspired by my rambling huhu. 2, 19 and 25 for the history meme!

In response to: Tumblr History Ask Meme: https://lady-plantagenet.tumblr.com/post/643743359209472000/ive-seen-plenty-of-tumblr-ask-challenges-but

Umm... YES I HAVE. Thank you for that friend 💕.

2- What is your country most famous for in history?

Oh this is really really easy... Vlad the Impaler; or as we call him - Vlad the Dragon. I would also like to take this as an opportunity to say that I feel a bit uncomfortable with the West’s obsession with Dracula and, by extension, his sadism. The real figure was just so much more compelling and interesting and this caricaturisation of him is inappropriate. No beef with Bram Stoker of course, just more irritated by what grew out as a result of that novel (which I have yet to read). He was fair, penalised laziness and theft, was a byword for greatness, piety and bravery in all of Europe and had it not been for him my country would have long become an Ottoman colony. He is the single-most most revered figure in Romania to the point where he is some sort of King Arthur for us. While I am happy that he has found world renown and in the west we are primarily associated with him, I would rather it be with the real man and not Dracula.

19 - What’s your favourite historical book?

Well, I’ve rambled about The Last of the Barons by Lord Edward Lytton-Bulwer enough to give everyone on here hives, so I’ll just give you the links to my other posts haha. One of these days when I am less stressed I will write an essay/book-review about it as a whole, though I am not worthy :(. I will give you my favourite historical non-fiction book and that is The Waning of the Middle Ages by Johan Huizinga. Mercy! When I found out they assign it as reading in some universities it restored my faith in humanity and the coming generations of medievalists. So far, I haven’t disagreed with Huizinga once, he really *gets it*, by it I mean the culture and beliefs of the 15th century (focusing almost solely on Burgundy and a little bit on France). I think it should be compulsory reading for all 15th century historical novelists even if you are setting your story in England. It is the finest example of thematic history around but also with an acute awareness of the practicalities and mechanics underpinning this system and hierarchy. It is written in a very idealistic wistful tone but doesn’t woobify the Middle Ages and idealises it past how its inhabitants would have seen it e.g. it admits that by the 15th century some parts of the pomp and such e.g. court rituals were performed with this sense of irony and even lampooned by some of its participants because they have really become overwrought and out-of-place not because the renaissance brought luxury, and end to barbarism or whatever. My Tumblr is full of quotes from his book and I am ashamed to say that I have ran into a very similar situation here as I had once with the aforementioned novel - I have not finished reading it because I am committed to only reading it when I can truly absorb what it is saying. It needs to be savoured as it is really not long.

25 - Who is the most overrated historical figure, in your opinion?

I do not want to copy you but I was itching to say that it is Richard III. I have recently encountered some users who are a fan of him and take a very healthy approach and I greatly admire them for that and I am not knocking on their interest by saying this - I swear. Personally, The Wars of the Roses, I find to be an interesting period generally so by extension yeah I think Richard is worth a study. My only issue is... he does not appear that remarkable? If anyone wants to debate me on this go ahead, I confess I haven’t dedicated a lot of time on reading about his life 1469 - 1483 where he was an able administrator (but then again that’s not the reason why most people are interested in him anyway). Hell, people in the 15th century weren’t fawning over him like they did with Edward IV, George Duke of Clarence or Richard Neville Earl of Warwick, not only did he ultimately fail (like the latter two) but he didn’t even have that diva appeal or humanness that makes you wonder what was going on in his mind. His motivations, to be honest, seem very easily discernible. For some time I wondered whether his deposition (and likely murder) of his nephews was down to some great concern for the common weal or utilitarianism - I have seen many thesis on him being some sort of ‘people’s champion’. I was intrigued. BUT I really feel like “the people” did not see it like that. Edward, Clarence and Warwick all experienced much higher popularity during their lifetimes so really how remarkable was he in this respect (again, tell me if you have a counter-argument, hell send an ask). Besides, in his 1483 coup, he chose to ally with Buckingham. Yes Buckingham - the very symbol of the high-handed feudal baron that Edward IV was trying to weaken to promote greater stability and suffered greatly in this enterprise. So my question is, did Richard III have any strong beliefs of his own that underpinned the 1483 coup? The execution of William Hastings was very baffling for me to understand for that it provides a further contradiction to my point about Richard wanting to promote an Edward-style stability in the realm. Hastings and the Woodvilles were both essential for that and something good really could have come out of them working together for Edward V. Also, no one hit me with the ‘his life was in danger’. He had the military power to easily crush all the Woodvilles if they all banded together against him (whether that was even their intention in the first place is another story).

Also, the historiographical debate which is what really makes him is getting very trite lately. That is not to say I am not eager to see what others have to say - I have great faith in some of the people I’ve met on this site, BUT, as a whole, what is being written in blogs, books and articles so far is hardly riveting. You could tide me over if you hit me with facts that he was unusually precocious or incredibly hard-working (both I get a sense of) but I really could not care less that he stayed loyal to his brother. Like most people did, that’s how Clarence and Warwick lost... as Hicks pointed out, he was a third son [sic fourth] there really was not other prospect for him and his advancement than sticking with Edward. Also what is with people’s obsession with loyalty on here? I get a medieval person’s concern with being loyal but this is the 21st century. So yeah he’s overrated in the sense that he is really not that special. Not in a saintly too-good-for-the-world sort of way nor in a tittilating oh-wow-he-is-sooo-evil-nice~~. He was a great man in many ways and deserves interest invested into him. Let me make this clear ~ I don’t think he’s basic or whatever. But given the proportion that this is to nowadays he is severely overrated. I’m talking millions of pounds, an ECHR trial, nearly one hundred novels, a stately funeral and all this distorts popular history’s approach to the period as a whole in a way that really annoys me - often with Clarence being made to look far more incompetent, insignificant and lame as a consequence (which admittedly is more of a me problem but then again this is an opinion meme).

#anyone else feel free to ask me!#🍷❤️#fr sometimes I cringe at myself for getting so riled up about this type of stuff #oh well #richard iii #george of clarence #edward iv #richard neville 16th earl of warwick #lord warwick #richard neville earl of warwick #warwick the kingmaker #george plantagenet #george duke of clarence

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berlanee · 4 years

Text

Hiiiii guys :) I've been reading alot of fanfics about arón lately and I just couldn't get enough of them so i decided to write some of my own 😂 sorry if it sucks

'Auditions'

You probably waited for this moment your whole life and finally had an opportunity to make it come real. You were waiting outside the door that might open any second at this point.

You were auditioning for a netflix show titled 'Èlite' and oh boy you couldn't have been more happy. You have always dreamed of being an actress but your dreams were never as big as this, not auditioning for a very popular streaming platform that everybody all around world will be able to watch.

As you were busy drowning through your thoughts the door you were standing next to suddenly opened and a middle aged lady dressed up in a suit appeared holding a very thick folder that seemed to have various different names that have been all crossed out with a red mark.

"Miss y/n please do come in" she said with a very robotic voice. She must've been very bored and tired of coming out every half hour and calling people out.

Without waiting any longer you just shrug your head and followed her inside the room. As you entered your eyes immediately landed on the table centered right in the middle of the room with three people sitting, two of them being women and the third one being a male.

After greeting them all your eyes drifted to the guy that was standing right opposite them with a piece of paper in his hand, which looked like a script. You couldn't stop yourself from thinking how attractive he was. He had short curly hair, light brown eyes and a lot of tiny moles that just made him look more hot you thought.

"Miss y/n welcome once again, this young man's name is Arón and he will also be a part of the élite cast. He wouldn't directly be your partner on the show but we just wanted some of the castmates to have small script that they could act in front of us so that we can analyse the chemistry within them and to just overall have some materials we can go over and watch before we start the actual production" the women seated in the middle said without catching a breath. Why was this women already talking like you had the role? You haven't signed any papers yet as far as you know. But you just kept silent thinking you might ruin everything if you say anything regarding this. Plus you really couldn't help the weird feeling inside your stomach and the pressure inside your mind forcing you to get closer to the boy near you and have a closer look to his perfect face that can probably be spotted meters away. He really was pretty.

You got close to him and smiled at him. "Hi my name is y/n very nice to meet you arón" you said with a trembling voice, oh man he made you nervous just looking directly into your eyes. At that moment you just wished your makeup didn't look bad since you rushed it in the morning to make it on time here because you slept through your alarm and woke up 20 minutes late.

"Pleasure to meet you y/n" oh wow. Until that moment you never realised how appealing your name sounded or it was just his deep raspy voice that made it sound so attractive. It was definetely his voice.

You just slowly shrugged your head to anwser him back. He handed you one of the papers that he was holding onto. You checked out what was written on the single page.

You had no idea which character you were auditioning to so you had no idea what to do and how to act out when you didn't know basic facts about the character. So you just thought you should be natural and don't do anything over the top.

On the script there was only a couple of lines so you took a deep breath of relief, at least you weren't gonna read anything long and also act it out.

The judges started the camera that was going to film you and arón acting the script out, they counted till three and it was now all on you guys.

"Where are they? Your family?" He asked with a soft voice.

You checked your line on the paper and immediately lifted your eyes to meet his ones.

"Somewhere up there" you said with a soft voice while lifting your head and locking your eyes on the large window that was on the ceiling. You looked directly at the light blue sky deeply.

"All of them are up there, every single one of them. 1, 2, 3, 4 and five. All of them"

He was looking at your face with a expression of symphony.

"It was all my fault, I shouldn't have done it. I knew something like this was going to happen but I couldn't stop myself" you continued your line.

"I loved a man once, he was the reason of my happiness...But he then became my biggest mistake"

"I made a mistake and lost my family, you would know it. Right? How you could love someone so blindly without realising the damage you are leaving" he took a deep breath and his hand immediately surrounded his throat making him look like he was fighting for air.

"I would know" he said with quite voice. He then quickly took a quick glimpse on his script and then lifted his eyes to meet back yours. And waited for you to continue.

"And now it's just a life where I live by chance, only trying to fill in empty stupid days by living the most stupid life" you said with a sorry smile. A smile that made your expression look more like you were in pain.

You checked the script again and it was saying that your hand climbs up to your chest snowy and touches her necklace. Thank God you were wearing a necklace. So you quickly did what it said and moved your hand to your necklace.

"This is the only thing that I have left from them, it's the only thing that makes me closer to them, like they never left beside me" you continued and waited for him. Since your paper only had your lines and not his.

He took a step closer to you and looked deeply into your eyes, you felt like you were melting, that your heart was pounding at 1000 speed. You didn't know what to do so you just looked back at him and try not to do anything stupid.

His eyes drifted from your eyes to your lips slowly and stared at them for a couple of seconds. You thought he was going to kiss you and you actually hoped and prayed at that moment that he actually would.

Instead he got a little bit more close and slowly moved his head down so that his lips were close to your necklace. And he slowly packed the accessory rose hanging from it. You closed your eyes. You could feel his breathing very close to you and his breath hitting your chest. It was warm. Made your heart skip for the thousandth time since you came into this room.

"You..."

"I kissed you from your pain" he said lifting his head back up and meeting your eyes once again. You were speechless. This feeling right now is probably 10x better than idea of kissing him you had earlier. It just made you feel very special for an unknown reason.

Your faces were very close regarding how tall he was from you so you were kind of on your tip toes and and had your head lifted up.

"Cut" one of the judges yelled out.

"Wow guys! That was perfect. You two have so much diversity already I'm pretty sure you both will demonstrate outstanding performances. So cogratualitions to you both. Arón you were already signed up so y/n welcome" she said with a sweet smile and the the other two judges agreed to her.

Wow. I literally just landed on a huge netflix show and have a very attractive co-star already. He was so gloomy I'm pretty sure if it wasn't with him I wouldn't have been this lucky.

.....

"You were really great by the way" Arón said as we were leaving the building.

"Thankyou. Trust me you were just really good and I just kind of tried and follow you" you said.

He smirked. He has really cute smile you thout to yourself.

"Well that's also my thought about you" he said.

"Hey would you mind giving me your number so we could discuss more" he asked and you just answered without even thinking about it.

"Yes. Sure thing" you said while looking at him excitingly. Oh man. You were really being a desperate Danny.

You both exchanged numbers and he asked maybe you guys should meet up tonight at a restraunt so you could get to know each other and that you could also meet the other guys who have been already casted for the show.

"Okay then 9:00pm it is" he said while putting his phone back into his back pocket. He looked so hot while doing that.

"Yep" you said. While you waved at him awkwardly and turned back and walked quickly to your car. You couldn't help but be shy around him, even though you met him like an hour ago.

You could hear him laugh at you quickly walking. You couldn't help but look back at him and smile.

"I'll see you tonight" he yelled before turning around and unlock his car.

You just screamed a big capital WOW in your mind. You are officially an signed actress, had some cool ass co-star that you had a date with. Not really. But kind of.

Finally your life was coming together and some good stuff was happening.

#aron piper #aron piper imagine #élite s3 #élite temporada 3 #ander munoz #ander muñoz icons

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your-world-with-nct · 5 years

Text

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 — 𝐥𝐦𝐤

➵ pairing: mark x female reader

➵ genre: angst, suggestive, underground rapper au

➵ warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, unhealthy relationship themes

➵ word count: 6.1k

➵ summary: you didn’t know what you and Mark were; you weren’t enemies nor friends, you weren’t exes nor lovers. but what you did know was that you still loved Mark, and you never stopped loving him.

➵ a/n: happy belated birthday mark !! this is a part two to this blurb, and is inspired by the lyrics to billie eilish’s ‘party favor’. this is my first full fic, so i hope you all enjoy it and feel free to leave some feedback too!

August 2 - the significance of the date was written in the scars of your heart, forever known as, one: Mark’s birthday, and, two: what would’ve been yours and Mark’s two year anniversary. Ahh, Mark Lee.

The boy that became all of your firsts, kisses and the like; the boy that harnessed the musical talent of a professional or a prodigy, despite his small, underground career; the boy that was just a shy bean beneath his tough, street-wise exterior; the boy that knew your darkest secrets and told you his; the boy that promised you happiness till the end. But he was also that same boy that took advantage of you and lied to you; the boy who stole your heart, and never gave it back; the boy who was better at lyrics than love. He was such a mystery to you, like a code you couldn’t quite seem to decipher.

Even after the abrupt ending of your relationship, Mark was always there, with you, as if nothing had happened between you two. From the evenings where he was out cold after a long night at the bar, calling you to pick him up, to the early hours of the morning where he needed some feedback for his newly produced tracks, he somehow managed to keep you in his life, relying on him the way you relied on oxygen. Mark had you wrapped around his little finger - you would do anything just to get close to him again - and you both knew it.

There was one slight issue, though, which was the fact that you didn’t exactly know what you two were to each other. Yes, there may have been some occasions where Mark was drunk out of his mind, and you would both end up naked in his bed the next morning, like lovers.

But there were also times where he would ignore you for weeks on end, the only updates you received from him were Instagram posts with his rapper friends, paired with cryptic captions that were clearly targeting you, like exes.

However, no matter what Mark did, you would always come crawling back to him and his addictive love, because you were trapped in his trance, and didn’t want to be released from it either.

Once again, you were stuck in that limbo of Mark not acknowledging your existence for another month - or so you thought.

As you mindlessly shoved spoonfuls of Cheerios (your failed attempt at a healthy breakfast) into your mouth, you stared at the cursed date on your lockscreen, when, all of a sudden, your phone began ringing, the default tone echoing throughout your empty apartment. The name that flashed on the screen touched a nerve deep within you, as if your senses had been awakened; one of those senses being your infatuation with Mark, which was rekindling and creating sparks in your stomach as you hesitantly answered the call and put it on speakerphone.

“H-hello?” You hated the way your throat closed up and your voice dwindled into nothing whenever you spoke to him after eternities of no contact whatsoever.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! How’ve you been? I’ve not spoken to you in, like, what, I don’t know, it’s been, like, ages now, hasn’t it?” Mark leaped right into the conversation, starting it off strangely welcoming, too comfortable for your liking. You nodded slightly in response to his question, before quickly realising that he couldn’t see you right now.

“Uhh, yeah, it’s definitely been a while now,” you let out a timid squeak, which was originally meant to be a polite laugh, except the mere thought of Mark clouded your thoughts and refrained you from thinking straight, or acting normal.

Trying to distract yourself from your awkwardness, you absentmindedly started playing with your spoon, stirring it in the bowl- which now only contained some milk and tiny specks of Cheerios - while listening intently to the boy’s next words.

“So, you know how it’s my birthday today, right?” he paused to let you answer, to which you hummed a small ‘happy birthday’ in response, “Ahh, thanks, well, if you’re free tonight, I managed to privately this really cool nightclub from 9pm onwards and I was wondering if you wanted to join us?”

You’d be lying if you said that Mark’s invitation didn’t cause you to almost have a heart attack, so it took you awhile to process the information he had just thrown at you and come up with a decent reply, “Okay, first, of course I can come, I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Who do you think I am - it’s summer, I have no friends, and I think I’ve watched ‘Love, Simon’ one too many times this summer,” you joked.

Before you could continue, the Canadian boy’s bubbly giggles cut you off, as he sighed, saying, “Wow, you really haven’t changed that habit, I see.” The steady beat of your heart suddenly accelerated, the fact that your ex remembered your only hobby, an unusual one at that, which he found out about almost two years ago, sent shockwaves through your entire body.

“Mhm, yeah, that movie never gets old,” you joined in with his laughter, then carried on with what you were going to say once you heard the contagious chuckles quieten, “Also, where’s the nightclub? And who do you mean by ‘us’? I’m just curious, you know?”

You tried your best to not sound intimidated by the potential answers to your questions, but, with your knowledge of who Mark liked to surround himself with now, you couldn’t help but feel out of place around them.

“The nightclub is called ‘Sun and Moon’, it’s owned by one of my older friends, Taeil, and, it’s near the, uhhh, I think it’s close to that one shopping centre? But I can send you directions later, even if you can’t find it, you won’t miss it, it’s covered in neon lights and it’s massive! And, did I mention that Taeil hyung makes the best cocktails? I can’t wait for tonight!”

The boy seemed ultimately fascinated with the place from the way he spoke about it, and your lips curved into a small smile at his excitement. ‘Damn it,’ you thought to yourself, ‘why is he so cute? About things like this? Ughhh, I love him.’

Mark’s endless chatter continued while you pondered over how adorable he probably looked right now, “And, as for who’s coming, it’s only a small group of friends - the Dream boys, my best mate Yukhei and his Chinese buddies from uni, oh, and Chaeyoung and her non-celeb friends are coming too!”

The first few guests he listed were absolutely fine - Yukhei was your best friend, also a mutual friend of yours, and was the one that introduced you to Mark; his friends were strange, but bearable though; while the Dream boys were a group of young artists Mark had the opportunity to join, who were soon going to debut as rappers with him - however, your brows furrowed at the unfamiliar name, confusion written all over your face.

You weren’t jealous, no, just… curious as to who exactly this ‘Chaeyoung’ was, “Oh! Okay, that’s great! But, uhhh, who’s Chaeyoung? I’ve never heard that name before?” The boy let out a dreamy sigh, as if he was enchanted by the mere thought of this person, “Son Chaeyoung is a senior from our record label, better known as Beastie Babe, that’s her stage name.”

Despite his explanation, you were still baffled since you had no idea who she was. The weird, subconscious ‘huh?’ you let out told Mark that you still didn’t understand, so he elaborated on the matter, “I shit you not, she is the most talented, influential rapper of our generation! Her debut single ‘BDZ’ literally dominated both national and Western music charts and her recent collaboration with Cardi B helped skyrocket her to fame, and I’m under the same company as her? Like, I still can’t believe that that’s what we have the potential to become. She’s just so amazing-”

A greedy feeling engulfed your chest and your heart began thumping uncontrollably as Mark’s words of admiration filled your ears. Somehow, out of anger or whatnot, you had managed to throw your spoon across the kitchen, grunting quietly as he failed to stop rubbing in your face the fact that he was talking to other girls now.

“-the moment I walked into her recording studio instead of the Dreamies’ was the best moment of my entire life! We’ve actually been spending a lot of time with each other since then, and, you know what, Y/N? I used to have a huge fanboy crush on her but, uhhh, now that I actually know her, I think that I-I like her? Do you think I should say something tonight? Drunk Mark is definitely better with the ladies than Sober Mark,” he joked, stopping right after he heard silence on the other end of the phone.

You almost screamed at his last statement - “Drunk Mark is definitely better with the ladies than Sober Mark” - well, of fucking course he would say that, that’s exactly how he ended up asking you out on his birthday two years ago, while he was drunk.

‘How insensitive can that shitbag be! That’s our story, not yours and Chaeyoung’s!’ you internally yelled at him, as you refrained from hanging up without another word. Luckily, your self-control got the better of you and you said through gritted teeth, “Haha, defo, I’ll see you tonight then, Mark, good luck with that.”

And with that, you slammed your finger on the red button, aggressively hurling your phone at the couch and cursing Mark under your breath. “Just fuck around with my feelings then, why don’t you? While you’re at it, you may as well shove your successful love life into my face and ruin the smallest fragments of our relationship that we have left,” you mumbled, trudging over to your sofa to collect your phone.

Once you unlocked it, you went straight to Youtube, searching the name ‘Beastie Babe’ and playing her discography as you washed your limited amount of dishes. It crushed your already low self-esteem as you listened to the girl’s unique music, and you realised why Mark looked up to her so much and wanted to date her, she was so much better than you, more gorgeous, more gifted, she was the ultimate upgrade from you.

Those thoughts resurfaced once again as you stood in front of your full body mirror hours later, Chaeyoung’s catchy songs playing in the background, as you couldn’t help but binge all of her music videos to try and gage the chance you had against her when it came to Mark. Turns out you had zero chance.

That girl was literally world-famous, her albums were sold out everywhere, and she had designer brands chasing after her, desperate for celebrity endorsement. Her self-produced music was mesmerising, something you had never heard of before, and her rapping was rhythmic and fluid, while her vocals were beautifully melodic.

Not to mention, Chaeyoung was stunning - like her stage name suggested, she did have the facial structure of a ‘baby beast’ as her fans say, and her hair looked gorgeous no matter what style it was in, her chiseled cheekbones were always the main point of her look, along with her infamous, enticing caramel eyes.

Then, there was you. A college dropout who was surviving solely off of your parents’ riches until they could find a job for you in their expanding business, you were the ‘rich kid’ that everybody shamed.

You didn’t have anything like music in your blood, and you weren’t particularly talented at anything, unless pessimism was considered a talent. And you definitely weren’t gorgeous, you weren’t anything close to it, which was justified as you scrutinised your outfit in the mirror, that made you look even worse than usual.

Initially, what you had chosen for yourself and laid out on your bed looked ideal, the black and white checkered skirt complemented the tight, white off-the-shoulder top and the black, knee-length high heeled boots, while the baby pink leather jacket tied the whole thing together, adding a splash of colour to it.

Now that it was on you, you appeared like you were trying way too hard - your exaggerated makeup looked disgustingly dark, the top showed off all of your curves and rolls, the skirt was a little too short for your liking and portrayed a slutty image that you weren’t going for, and the boots were chunky and big, and didn’t seem to match the rest of the outfit as well as it did prior to when you put it on.

You looked horrendous and you knew it, but this was the only thing in your closet that was even close to what those other girls would be wearing, the only thing that made you at least look like you could fit in with them.

Before you could change anything about it, you glanced at the alarm clock perched on your bedside table, showing exactly ‘21:00’, which you decided was the perfect time to leave.

Usually, with events, you would either plan way ahead of time, and arrive punctual and prepared, or you’d turn up almost an hour late, with a half-assed outfit and an empty stomach.

This time, however, you didn’t know where you were headed, so you should’ve left early, but you got too paranoid, thinking up random instances where you would end up getting there before anyone else was, which would make you look like you were trying harder than ever to get Mark’s attention.

The car ride to Sun and Moon was a daunting one - not only because you were twisting and turning down unfamiliar roads, relying solely on Google Maps, but, because you were jittery with nerves and anxiety.

Just thinking of walking all alone into the club to see a clique of popular musicians and their wealthy friends made you shiver in your seat, and the fact that you were extremely anti-social and very much intimidated by most of the party’s attendees made it even worse.

Lights of almost every colour of the spectrum struck you as you parked your car by Sun and Moon, which was one of the most appealing and exciting clubs you had ever seen, not that you had been to many anyways. You braced yourself as you entered the place, breathing quickly and heavily, before pushing the door open to the booming, electrifying atmosphere.

You were immediately drawn to Mark’s alluring figure on the dance floor, jokingly grinding against one of his group members, Donghyuck, and you assumed that the both of them had some pre-party drinks already.

Mark’s black, patterned dress-shirt flowed down his upper body, the loose fabric of it accentuating the shape of his chest.

His wrists and neck were adorned in expensive brands of jewellery, his fingers laden with various silver rings, the golden glints of his watch twinkling under the bright, fluorescent lights - and his ebony locks were styled to exaggerate his forehead.

The matching black skinny jeans he wore made his legs look heavenly, it made it so hard for you to look away from him.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the amorous thoughts flooding your mind, directing your eyes away from the attractive birthday boy to the rest of the room.

It seemed as if you were the last one to turn up, despite your worries, since you spotted Yukhei and his friends attacking the bar, and who you managed to identify as Chaeyoung and her friends surrounding and blatantly flirting with the Dreamies.

She was even more breathtaking in person - her platinum blonde bob framed her effortless makeup, which consisted of fuschia lips, long, luscious lashes, shimmery eyeshadow, and sparkling highlight, and her striking outfit, a lime green and black patterned tube top and matching bootleg pants, made her look magnificent.

If she wasn’t your ex-boyfriend’s current crush, she would’ve been yours, because, damn, she was hot.

You were broken from your daze when one of Yukhei’s best friends, Hendery, hollered your name and gestured for you to join them, after he noticed you standing blank and confused by the entrance of the club.

“Yoooo, Y/N!! It’s been ages since I last saw you and you look great, boo! Come here, you gorgeous little bitch,” Yukhei’s obnoxiously deafening voice reached you from the opposite side of the room, calling for you even though Hendery had already grasped your attention in the first place, causing you to shyly scurry towards his friend group, the heavy stares of almost everyone in the room following you.

As you made your way over to them, your best friend engulfed you into a bone-crushing hug, his long limbs entangling themselves around you, not letting you get a word in first. When he finally pulled away, it was then that you caught a full look at him.

“Thanks, Yukhei, I really wasn’t sure about this but I’m glad you like it. Also, you look absolutely amazing!! Like, it’s only been 3 months but I feel like you’ve gotten even taller,” you exclaimed, proceeding to compliment your friend’s stylish outfit.

The plain black-on-black aesthetic he was going for may have seemed boring, but he pulled it off so well - the tight-fitted, black long sleeve was paired with black leather pants and decorative chains hanging from his belt loops, and his newly dyed navy blue hair was slicked back to reveal his forehead.

He let out a squeaky laugh, one that only you managed to get from him, as he rested his arm on your head, commenting, “Yeah, I think I actually have gotten taller.” You rolled your eyes at his teasing, before interacting with Yukhei’s friends, who were a lot more welcoming than you expected.

You had only ever spoke to Hendery before, but Xiaojun, Yangyang, and Sicheng were all polite to you, contrary to their appearance and their reputation.

Yes, Yukhei and his mates were the typical rich playboys that you had previously assumed only existed in movies, with the designer loafers and belts they were wearing today.

But, they were just playful dumbasses who looked appealing to their classmates, and, to be honest, you enjoyed hanging out with them during the party, instead of lurking around the club, solitary and sombre, pining after Mark.

Oh yeah, Mark - the boys had been distracting you so well that you had forgotten about your ex that stood just four feet away from you, freestyle rapping with Jaemin and Jeno.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind your lack of interaction with him throughout the night. It had only been two hours and you thought that you would be so desperate to just talk to him and fix things with him, but, in reality, you were having a blast with Yukhei’s friends, listening to their uni gossip and discussing your favourite music at the moment, they made you feel comfortable and welcome, something that Mark and his friends always failed to do with you.

As you decided to have yet another cocktail, you approached the bartender, but, before you could even open your mouth, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Although you hadn’t even seen the person, you knew exactly who it was, by the calloused fingers, from countless plucking of guitar strings, that grazed your skin, and the embarrassed clearing of his throat to gain your attention, you just sensed that Mark was stood right behind you.

Tentatively, you turned around to face the boy you dreaded to see, your cheeks flaming with rouge as he scratched his nape and locked eye contact with you. Your pulse quickened and you felt your stomach churning in your stomach, maybe it was just the drinks, or maybe it was his mere presence that excited and aroused you.

The scent of alcohol lingered on his body, and you could tell that it had already took a toll on him, by the wild twinkle in his eyes and the unsteadiness in his voice.

Despite that, Mark looked absolutely ineffable at that exact moment, the beads of sweat on his forehead sparkled underneath the colourful lights, and made him look ethereal and idyllic.

You panicked, creating multiple, unrealistic reasons as to why Mark wanted to talk to you right now, so the first thing your disoriented, intoxicated mind barfed up for you to say was, “Sincerely, happy birthday!”

The god-like creation that stood before you sniggered at your outburst, “Thanks, and thanks for coming too! I just wanted to ask if you could hold my watch for a bit?”

You almost choked at the simple request he had given you, clearly, he had other priorities, ones that didn’t include facing you and everything that had occured between you two since you had last spoken, excluding this morning, “Oh, oh yeah, uhhh, yeah, sure? How come?”

“Ahhh, Dahyun just challenged Jisung to a dance-off and he almost flipped in excitement, he dragged me and the rest of the Dreamies with him to go against Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu, and it’s already pretty hardcore, just look.”

Mark vaguely gestured to the dance floor, where Jeno was b-boying and Chenle was screeching to hype him up (even though the younger of the two was sober, he was still as energetic as ever) while Tzuyu was aggressively booing him and Chaeyoung was comically cracking her knuckles in preparation, “this is a Rolex Submariner and I do not wanna ruin it ‘cause of a dance-off, y’know?”

You laughed along with him, admiring the way he delicately removed the watch from his wrist, “Of course, I’ll keep it with me while you, uhhh, do that. By the way, where’d you get this? It looks pretty good quality.”

He tossed a glance at Yukhei, then back at you, “Xuxi got me this, he gave it to me last night so that I could wear it today! Did you think I bought it? I could never afford this on my own, ha!”

His drunken giggles were the only thing you heard and you couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment due to Mark’s casual manner around you.

You never thought that it would cross your mind, but you were beginning to wonder if he was completely and utterly over you this time.

“I’ll be back soon, just give it to me once we’re done,” he added, before making his way back to the dance floor where Renjun was doing some eccentric moves you had never seen before.

Even from afar, Yukhei noticed the dim aura that surrounded you, so he approached you, while you were ordering your new drink.

“What was that about? What did he say to you?” he questioned you, handing you the shot glass that the bartender had just placed on the surface. Accepting it, you took a swift swig of the drink, letting the liquid ease down your throat and settle in your stomach before answering, “He literally just wanted me to hold his watch, that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup, and I told him ‘happy birthday’, but, besides from that he just kinda, you know, avoided everything that I wanted to talk about, and ran away to them,” you nodded your head towards Mark, who was now freestyling against Chaeyoung, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Your best friend wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest in a comforting way, to which you plainly let him do so, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N, as much as I love Mark, he’s been such a dick to you this entire time. I wish he would’ve listened to me when I told him to choose to either stop stringing you on or to pick up where you two left off.

“But, instead, he’s broken your heart time and time again, making you think that he still wants you, and needs you, when, in reality, Chaeyoung had him under her control the moment he met her, which was literally two weeks after you broke up, by the way. I wish that you’d look past that image Mark had built of himself in your head and heart, and see the real him.”

It was shocking to hear these wise words come from your currently drunk friend, as those weren’t the types of things he would usually say when he was clear-headed.

You wiggled out of his endearing embrace, audibly exhaling in frustration as your head was invaded with sudden realisations and epiphanies, “You’re right, surprisingly, I’ll try and talk to him later, maybe when I hand him his watch back. But, hopefully, this’ll be the last time I have to even look that boy in the eyes, I don’t think I can keep doing this any longer.”

The curves of Yukhei’s lips turned upwards into a proud smile, “That’s my girl! Now, how about you play this one drinking game that Sicheng found with us? Will that make you feel better?”

It did make you feel better, a lot better, and you were enjoying yourself so much that you had missed the fact that the impromptu dance battle had come to an end and its participants were carelessly swaying with one another, too exhausted to move their bodies properly.

You noticed that there were two specific people missing, however; it seemed that Mark and Chaeyoung had slipped out while you were playing with Yukhei, Sicheng, Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang.

Only then did you recall that Mark’s exorbitant watch was still in the pocket of the pink jacket you had removed and left unattended on a chair. You excused yourself from the boys and ran to your jacket, retrieved the Rolex and proceeded to search for Mark to return it to him, and talk to him.

You had examined each and every bit of the club closely, yet Mark was nowhere to be seen, so you decided to explore the exterior, perhaps he needed to get something from his car, or something?

It was difficult to convince yourself that he hadn’t left to get some ‘alone time’ with Chaeyoung, which is what he had told his friends when he had done the same with you two years prior, but the idea of it kept recurring to you as you ventured out into the cold night.

The similarities of your current situation and the time you had run away from Mark’s underground performance a week after your breakup were disturbingly accurate - except this time you were running towards him, instead of away from him, you were stronger now and wanted to face him, not cower away from him.

He was making your confrontation pretty hard, though, because, at the moment, you couldn’t even find Mark, so you came to the conclusion of trying to call him. Multiple times. And, yet, he still didn’t answer, and you hadn’t advanced any further with it. You still didn’t give up, as you pressed his name in your phone again, and wandered down the street, glancing side to side every so often, just in case you had missed him.

“Hey, this is Mark, I’m busy at the moment but I’ll be back! Leave a message while you’re at it, I guess, haha,” Mark’s recorded voice echoed from the speakerphone yet again, you had heard it so many times that you had pretty much memorised his awkward little ramble. You sighed as the tone beeped for the sixth time in the past few minutes.

A disgruntled growl left you as you proceeded to search for the unreachable boy, your phone clutched in one hand while his watch was still in the other.

It was extremely tempting to just take it home with you and return it to him the following day - but if you were really going to permanently detach yourself from Mark like you promised yourself you would, you had to avoid anything and everything to do with him, or else you would give up and let yourself be pulled back into his trance.

After seeing the way he acted around Chaeyoung throughout the night, however, it wasn’t very likely that you’d come crawling back to him any time soon.

You pressed the contact name once again, holding your phone up to your ear hopefully, awaiting a response. Turning the corner as you neared your car, you laid eyes on a sight you wish you never had done, and you swore you almost dropped your mobile along with your jaw right there on the sidewalk.

There he was: pinned up against the graffitied wall of the narrow alleyway, arms coiled all over Chaeyoung’s waist, hips, and ass, lips locked with her swollen, red ones.

You couldn’t even gasp at the horrific scene, you were in another state of shock, and your entire body was quivering and recoiling in utter pain and heartbreak.

Tears pricked at your eyes the longer they lingered on the moaning mess that was Mark, but you couldn’t rip them away from him. “Shit, Chae, I think I love you,” he breathed out, as she left open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, her hands threading through his velvety locks.

That used to be you, kissing all down his neck; that used to be you, making his heart race and limbs melt into jelly; that used to be you, the one he said ‘I love you’ to.

“Hey, this is Mark, I’m busy at the moment but I’ll be back! Leave a message while you’re at it, I guess, haha,” the tone played again, making you jump out of your skin, ‘perfect timing, Y/N, what if he heard it, right now, coming from your phone!’ you huffed, dropping Mark’s watch on the ground near the alleyway, bolting away from the couple, towards your car, grabbing the handle and pulling it open as soon as you reached it.

As you slumped into the driver’s seat, you realised that you had accidentally pressed the voicemail button with your shaking finger, instead of the ‘end call’ button.

“Fuck, no, I don’t wanna record a voicemail to Mark,” you thought aloud, until a voice in your head suggested, ‘but won’t this be the last time you’ll ever speak to him?’

It was with that thought that the gears in your head began turning - it was right, this would be your last time talking to him, you could finally tell him all of the things on your mind, the emotions he made you feel, the burdens he put on you, and he didn’t even have to respond.

You could simply block him forever - because he wouldn’t care, right? You didn’t even need a response or an apology, all you wanted was for him to know what he put you through, what you had to suffer through because of him.

And it’s not like that would upset him, he didn’t care about you the way you cared about him, he didn’t need you the way you used to need him, since he had his (possibly) new girlfriend instead of you. So you decided to record your last message to him.

“Uhhh, okay, this is really weird but I’ll just get it over and done with. So, Mark, this is Y/N and by the time you get this, your number’ll probably be blocked, this is the last thing you’ll hear from me.

“I’m guessing you’re kinda confused right now, because you’re probably listening to this while you’re either drunk as fuck or hungover, but, long story short, I’m fucking done with you.

“Let me just remind you of what happened tonight, or last night, depending on when you’re hearing this. You invited me to your little celebration after, what, a month of not contacting me? And then, proceeded to tell me that your crush would be here, even though you knew all too well that we had too many loose ends that we hadn’t tied yet.

“Then, I get here, and suddenly you don’t even greet me, or acknowledge me, just like you had been doing for the past few weeks, while, of course, you’re glued to Chaeyoung’s side.

“Meanwhile, I was there, waiting to see you, since we hadn’t hung out normally since the break-up 3 months ago, and I knew, well, at least I thought I knew, that there was still a connection between us, or something.

“But, instead, I spent the entire night following Yukhei around and talking to his friends, and having the oh-so-great opportunity of watching you eye-fuck Chaeyoung the whole time. And, finally, when you do eventually notice me, you ask me to hold your Rolex? Really, Mark? I didn’t even get the chance to say anything more than ‘happy birthday’ to you.

“Now, I don’t know how you’re feeling about this whole thing, because, apparently, you’re now Chaeyoung’s newest boy toy, but, did you ever stop and think about how this has affected me? How this whole thing has affected me?

“Because, if you really didn’t notice Mark, I was still fucking in love with you - even after you left me - and I never knew why you gave up on us. Personally, I thought we were amazing together, I thought you were my soulmate, you were the only person that made me feel loved, the only person I loved, but, you didn’t seem to think so.

“Maybe it’s because you’re my first love, Mark, but I wasn’t yours; maybe it’s because I thought that nobody else could replace you; maybe it’s because of your web of lies that I got caught in - but I felt like it wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be, we would find each other after a while and resume what we had, and we’d be together forever, wow, I know that’s cheesy, I think the alcohol’s getting to me now.

“Speaking of alcohol though, there was another reason why I thought that we could pick up where we left off.

“Don’t you remember all of those nights where you needed me to get you from the bar or the club, and drive you home? When you were so incapable of processing our history together that you just gave in, and let me fall in love with you all over again?

“Yeah, those nights gave me hope, hope that it wasn’t the drinks speaking for you the previous nights, it was you, and hope that you would realise what you were missing and come back to me.

“But, hoping is no good. You’ve actually gotta follow through with your hopes and make them come true. Yet, I couldn’t do that, since you always left me. You always disappeared without a trace, and then, suddenly, after three weeks or so, you’d be right back.

“But, you know, I see it now, I see the truth. You never really loved me, you weren’t lying when you said that, you loved the idea of me, the idea of having someone to rely on, the idea of someone else cleaning up your messes, the idea of someone to hook up with whenever you wanted.

“I saw that all throughout today, when you looked into Chaeyoung’s eyes, she pulled you in and you were lost in a swirl of lust, but whenever you looked into my eyes, you were so disconnected from me, and there was never any emotion.

“Mark, I’m not just your property, you can’t do whatever you want with me! I’m not your party favor, a mere birthday gift that gets thrown away after its purpose has been served.

“I’m Y/N and I’m not yours, Mark Lee, and I’m ashamed to say I ever was. If there’s one thing you were right about, though, it’s that ‘happiness is a lie, and it was only found in your trance’, but that’s because you didn’t make me feel true happiness.

“True happiness isn’t being manipulated into thinking that you make someone feel good and that it’s the only thing that makes them feel good, and that they needed you - true happiness is being free from the people that do that to you.

“I’m sorry, that I didn’t do what you wanted me to, I’m not blinded by your fake love anymore so you won’t be using me any time soon. Goodbye, Mark.”

And, with a few swift movements of your finger, Mark was gone from your phone, and from your life. He was nothing to you now, and you were no longer his - and, wow, you never knew that you would feel so proud to be able to say that.

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sapphicscholar · 5 years

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Pride Month Prompts Day 5: AU/Free For All (Sanvers)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

Day 5: AU/Free For All

Pairing: Sanvers

A/N: Credit for the idea (AU where Alex meets Maggie at the farmers market where Maggie runs a stand with her home-grown vegetables) goes to @dimplescanary!

“If you’d let me drive, you wouldn’t have to spend the first 10 minutes of every stop complaining about how stiff you are,” Kara said as she made a grab for the keys.

Alex jerked them back just in time. “Not a chance. I’d like to keep the contents of my stomach inside my stomach, thank you very much.”

With a roll of her eyes, Kara turned in the direction the signs for the farmer’s market were pointing. “Now that I understand how fragile the human sense of equilibrium is, I’m, like, a thousand times better.” Alex shuddered at the memories from the first time she’d tried to teach Kara to drive a few months before official records declared her 16 because, as Kara had rationalized it, “I was stuck in outer space for decades, Alex. I’m basically middle-aged.”

“Maybe once you’ve been here for a full decade I’ll let you try again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Still, Kara wouldn’t complain. Last summer Alex had come home from Stanford for two full weeks and, much to Eliza’s chagrin, taught her how to ride a motorcycle, and she knew that Alex was voluntarily missing a lot of research time for their summer road trip to celebrate Kara’s graduation.

As they followed the signs through yet another small Midwestern town--and honestly, Kara was starting to see the appeal Kal-El had felt with how quiet they could be, even with her super senses--they chatted about nothing and everything. Kara talked again about how excited she was for her journalism elective amidst all the required gen-eds, and Alex gushed about how smart Professor Frankel was and how innovative her research methods were and how she drove the coolest motorcycle, and could you even believe that professors drove motorcycles?

As they got closer to the market, Kara perked up. “Ooh! It smells like they’ve got baked goods.”

Alex snickered, shoving lightly at Kara’s shoulder. “Put your nose down. You look like an overeager puppy.”

“If we get there and don’t find the good donuts because you wouldn’t let me sniff them out, it’s on your conscience.”

Alex just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

A few minutes later, they rounded the corner and found a large park covered in tents and tables and even a miniature stage with live music. Squeals rang out from the playground area where children ran around, and small groups of people wandered between booths, filling their bags with fresh meat and produce from the local farms. Since they weren’t in any rush, Kara and Alex simply started at the stand closest to them and began working their way around the perimeter, happily accepting as many samples as were offered--at least until they got to the lady handing out beets because no thank you, please.

One of the booths they reached seemed to be deserted, though there was a cute, handwritten sign propped up that read, “Peas stay honest - I’ll be back in 5!” in curling blue chalk. Alex was pleased to see a $10 bill tucked beneath the corner of the sign; apparently people respected whoever it was running the Lettuce Make Your Day stand. Kara drifted over to the next booth, while Alex lingered at the empty stand, looking for the prices of the small cartons of strawberries.

“Look good, don’t they?” came a voice from behind her.

“Yeah,” Alex began, spinning around on her heel. But then she forgot everything she was going to say about too many days on the road and too few fruits and vegetables and wow wouldn’t her mom pay money to hear her saying that. Because standing behind her was the cutest girl she’d ever seen, with a broad smile that made her dimples pop and dark hair twisted into two long braids and a flannel shirt that Alex wished meant she was gay but probably just meant she was a farmer or a midwesterner. “Uhm.”

“Alex!” Kara’s voice burst through the bubble that seemed to have sprung up between Alex and the mystery girl and the rest of the farmer’s market. “Look!” She gestured at the large bins of cauliflower. “It’s ghost broccoli.” As she cackled and made eerie ghost noises, Alex felt her cheeks blush scarlet.

“Kara,” she hissed, eyebrows raising as she tilted her head meaningfully in the cute girl’s direction. “Stop it.”

“Er, right.” After a moment, she smiled over at them and stepped up beside Alex. “I’m Kara. I see you’ve already met my sister Alex.”

“I didn’t actually get her name yet, but it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Maggie.”

Alex smiled and nodded, and Kara rolled her eyes. “We’re currently on a road trip across the country. It was hard getting this one away from all her super smart research, but she’s sweet enough to make time for me, aren’t you Alex?” Kara poked Alex’s ribs.

“Right, um, yeah, anything for my sister.” Kara stepped on Alex’s toes next. “What are you doing here?”

Maggie pointed at the empty booth behind them. “Working.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize, sorry, I can let you get back to work.”

Maggie shrugged, an easy smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “If you’re thinking about buying anything, I can call it work.”

“I was actually looking at those strawberries. They look”--Alex paused as Maggie plucked one from a half-empty carton and held it out to her--“beautiful. I mean, tasty! I mean, amazing. Good. Fine. They look like strawberries.” She could hear Kara muttering under her breath about it being amazing that Alex managed to find dates, but she felt rooted to the spot.

“Well, I’m only a summer worker, but I think they’re pretty beautiful.” Maggie leaned forward a little and sent a wink in Alex’s direction. “Or maybe that’s just the person looking at them.”

Alex felt some of her nerves ebb away at that. If Maggie could be cheesy and not straight and call her beautiful, then she could certainly manage some basic conversation. Still, having a few minutes to slow her heart rate while she sampled the strawberries helped. “Holy shit, these are really good.”

“Better than fine?”

“So much better.”

Maggie leaned one of her hips against her side of the table as she gestured at the little “About the Farm” sign that hung behind her. “Sue Anne does a really great job. Doesn’t grow as much as some of the competitors”--Maggie’s hand swept around the room--“but she does an amazing job with the things she chooses.”

“How’d you end up working there?” Alex asked, barely noticing as Kara wandered away.

“I was looking for a summer job after freshman year, something that might come with housing so I could stay for the summer. My Intro to Bio professor is Sue Anne’s wife, so she put us in contact, and I’ve been working here every summer since.”

“That’s really cool. I’ve always been cooped up in a lab all summer.”

“This is my last summer actually. I graduated this spring, and I’ll start up at the Police Academy in Gotham in a month.” A handful of customers came up then, and Alex stepped away, letting Maggie handle them and ignoring Kara, who stood a few booths over making exaggerated kissing motions and giggling.

For the next hour and a half, while Kara ate her way around the market, Alex chatted with Maggie on and off between customers. After Kara had texted three times in a row, though, she knew she finally had to wrap it up.

“I should probably head out, let you work and all that, but I want to buy some of those strawberries before I leave.”

“Here, they’re on the house.” Maggie pushed over one of the cartons.

“No, I can’t do that--plus, I kept you busy for so long.”

“Trust me, you made my afternoon a hundred times better.”

Alex swallowed heavily as she dragged her toes along the grass. “Um, maybe as a thank you, would you want to come to dinner? We’re gonna spend the night here and probably try to find a decent local restaurant, and it’d be nice--or, I mean, I’d really like to see you again before I leave.”

“You asking me out?” The question was blunt, but the smile was genuine.

With a shrug, Alex tried not to look too hopeful. “You saying yes?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Alex beamed, and in an instant, Kara was at her side. “So I hear I’m third-wheeling it tonight?”

Before Alex could kick Kara in the shins, Maggie was laughing loudly. “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Hey, I’m just impressed that you’re still giving her a chance after all the stammering and blushing.”

“Oh I don’t know...I think it was pretty cute.”

#pride month prompts #sanvers #fanfic #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #kara danvers #fluff #farmers market AU #ficlet #alex x maggie #wingwoman kara

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talkfastromance4 · 6 years

Text

More (c.h) Chapter One

This is something I’ve been working on for awhile, more or less for my own fantasy granting joyness. Not sure how many parts this will be yet.

Summary: Single dad Calum doesn’t want to leave his son, Kai while he goes on tour. A nanny accompanies them and Kai isn’t the only one who falls in love.

author’s note: this is sort of a rushed intro lol sorry

Masterlist

*****

Calum was a bit of stickler when it came to love, especially because the woman he thought he loved left him after having his baby and leaving him on his doorstep with a quick written note, I’m sorry. A tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket with his birth certificate with no name except for Calum’s. His son, who Calum named Kai, is a spitting image of Calum, no ounce of his mother at all. He didn’t even know she was pregnant when they broke up but his three best friends were more than helpful.

Kai was one now, and although Calum didn’t think he was the world’s most perfect dad, he loved his little boy more than anything. He was his number one priority but Crystal and Sierra noticed how lonely Calum was even before Kai appeared in his life.

“He’s not going to want to go on a date, you know how much Jane hurt him when she ended it,” Michael says while he and Crystal are having lunch with Luke and Sierra.

“But we know the perfect girl!” Sierra insists. “She’s sweet, funny and she works with kids. We’ve wanted to set her up with Cal since before he and Jane even started dating.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think he’d want to try it,” Luke shakes his head.

“Also, remember that Calum has sworn off love,” Michael adds.

“But he hasn’t met—“

“Babe, I love you but let sleeping lions lie,” Michael tells Crystal and both girls slump back in their seats in defeat.

“So, we’ll be leaving on tour in like a month and a half,” Ashton begins at a meeting to discuss the tour schedule amongst other things. “And Cal, I know you don’t want to leave Kai, so . . . do you have any solutions?”

“Mali suggested I hire a nanny,” Calum says looking over at Kai who was playing with Luke across the way. “Which doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea. We’ll be gone for nine months, no way am I going to leave him behind.”

“That seems like a good idea. Have you been looking into anyone?” Michael asks.

“I’ve been researching a few agencies,” Calum nods, “but I haven’t interviewed anyone yet.”

“Want one of us to do it with you?” Ashton cocks an eyebrow.

“That’d be helpful actually, make sure I’m picking the right person.”

“Let us know when you have an interview,” Ashton says then Kai begins to whine and squirm in Luke’s arms.

“Naptime,” Calum sighs lifting his son from Luke. “Hey buddy, let’s go relax, yeah?” Kai quiets down a little but is still fussing when Calum takes him into his room.

“A nanny is a great idea,” Luke says, “she’d be with Kai while we do shows and interviews and things.”

“Yeah, and he’d still be with Cal,” Ashton agrees.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Calum asked Ashton to interview the ladies that he found on a secure, background checked site. They already spoke with five of them but none of them have really stuck out to Calum.

“What about Kate? She seemed good,” Ashton says.

“She’s too proper. I want someone who will be fun but will follow Kai’s schedule and will vibe with all of us. This is hopeless,” Calum rubs his face with his hands. “If we don’t find someone then I’ll have to leave Kai with my mum and I don’t really want to do that.”

“I know, man, don’t worry. We’ll find someone. Next one is Holly Golde.”

Calum does a double take when he hears the door open and sees the woman walking in. She has frosty blond hair, small stature and the biggest blue eyes he’s ever seen. She was wearing all black with a long gold necklace and her smile was radiant. Wow.

“Hi, I’m Holly it’s so great to meet you,” she smiles holding out her hand.

“Ashton, nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand. “And this is Calum, the father of that handsome fella over there.”

Holly turns her gaze to where Ashton is pointing to see Kai playing on a blanket with his favorite toys.

“He’s adorable,” Holly smiles again.

“Thanks for coming, I’m Calum Hood,” Calum greets and shakes her hand as well. He notices how soft they are against his rough ones. All three of them sit down. “So, have you been a nanny before?”

“No, I haven’t, but I went to school for child care, I work in the nursery at my church every Sunday and I’m CPR certified. I know the hours will be abnormal but I’m willing to help out anyway that I can. I love kids, they’re the best thing in the world.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be fine traveling to different countries with us?”

“I’ll manage it no problem,” she nods affirmatively.

“Can I ask how old you are?” Ashton asks.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Holly,” Calum says and he likes how pretty it is, “We’ll be dealing with fans all over the world. Obviously if I’m not with you you’ll have security so that Kai doesn’t get bombarded with fans but will you be able to handle that? Being around all those people?”

“I’ll be honest, big crowds like that do frighten me a little bit but I promise you I won’t let anything bad happen to your son. I will make sure he’s safe and protected.”

“When—“

Just then Kai starts crying, all three of them turn their heads to see Kai has fallen backwards hitting his head on the floor that wasn’t covered by the blanket. His round face was pinched and red as tears flowed from his eyes. Calum stood up but Holly was faster and scooped him up in her arms.

“Hey there, baby, did you hit your head?” she holds him on her hip using her left hand to cradle his head. “I know it scared you more than anything, but that’s okay. Here, let’s go look for birdies outside, hm?” she walks him to the window and looks out of it, pointing and bouncing him gently in her arms. She’s talking in soothing tones to him and his cries turn to sniffles.

Calum has never seen Kai adjust to someone so instantaneously before, and be soothed that quickly from someone other than him and his friends. He saw his son’s small fingers clutch the fabric of Holly’s shirt as she continues to point outside which he does as well when he sees something.

Calum turns to look at Ashton whose eyebrows are raised in amazement and nods encouragingly. Holly was perfect.

“Holly, would you like to be our nanny?” Calum asks and she turns around. Kai is playing with a strand of her hair and smiles happily at his daddy.

“Really?!” her eyes widen happily.

“Yes,” Calum grins and pinches his son’s cheek. “I’ve never seen him be taken with someone so quickly before. You’re obviously qualified and . . . I have a good feeling about you. I trust you with him.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hood, I would love to.”

“Please, call me Calum,” he makes a face then laughs. “We’re the same age.”

“All right, Calum,” she laughs. “I accept the job. Thank you.”

“Our assistant is right through there, she’ll go over all the details and paperwork with you, make sure you have your passport and all that. But once that’s finished, we’ll be seeing you in a few weeks when we head to New York.”

“Sounds good, here you go,” she hands Kai to Calum. “I’ll head on back, and thank you again, this is an amazing opportunity.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Before leaving for tour, Holly began to nanny for Kai about a week after she got the job. She wanted to make sure she got the hang of Kai’s schedule, and that he would become even more comfortable with her. Calum hated how he wasn’t home that much with Kai since they released the new single from the album, but appreciated having Holly.

He’d come home and the house would be clean, a majority of Kai’s toys would be put away, the dish washer would be runnng quietly and after the first few days, the laundry was done as well. She was impeccable at her job and Calum is extremely happy he hired her. Kai absolutely adores her.

“Hi,” Holly greets with a smile and the laundry basket jutted on her hip. “Kai’s been in bed for about an hour.”

“That’s good,” Calum sighs emptying his pockets of his keys and phones on the countertop. “And thank you for . . . everything. Guess I’m still getting the hang of being a single dad.”

“It’s not a problem at all, and I think you’re doing fine.” She begins to fold Kai’s onesies and his burp rags.

“Thank you, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ll be coming on tour with us,” he shakes his head and picks up some laundry and begins to fold. “It’d kill me to leave Kai with my parents.”

“Can I ask you a personal question? Please don’t feel obligated to answer, but, what happened to Kai’s mom?”

Calum took his time folding Kai’s onesie that reads ‘Daddy’s little rockstar,’ a gift from Ashton.

“She and I were together for about a year and a half, then out of the blue she broke up with me. No explanation just that it was over. I didn’t handle it well, and then nine months later, she left him on my doorstep with a note saying “I’m sorry.” His birth certificate and full custody papers were with him and it’s been me and him ever since.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry she did that to you,” she holds his forearm in sincerity. “You had no idea she was pregnant when she broke up with you?”

“Not a clue. I don’t know if that’s why she broke up with me, thinking I wouldn’t step up or something which is ironic because she’s the one who left. I struggled a bit at first, I didn’t know the first thing about babies, especially having one of my own. So my parents and sister helped out a lot for the first few months, even the guys did too.”

“Well, Kai is a very lucky little boy to have you as a dad.”

Just then Kai’s cries come through the baby monitor, they turn to it then to each other. Holly places her last folded article of clothing on the couch to go get him but Calum stops her by holding onto her wrist.

“I got it, I haven’t seen him all day,” he smiles. She returns the smile and watches him head down the hallway to Kai’s room.

She continues to fold the laundry and hears Calum’s voice soothe his son through the monitor that’s sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey baby, Daddy’s got you, yeah? You’re all right.”

Holly moves to turn the monitor down but stops when she hears him say her name.

“You like Holly don’t you? I’m glad you’re comfortable with her . . . and she’s very pretty isn’t she?”

Holly’s hand freezes midway to the volume dial; did she hear him correctly? He thinks she’s pretty? He doesn’t say anything else after that and she continues folding the laundry until he comes out a few minutes later. She prayed desperately that her cheeks weren’t rosy.

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I think he might be getting his first tooth. That’s going to be fun on tour,” he heaves a big sigh.

“We’ll manage,” she assures him with a smile and because she says so, he believes they will.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #single dad!cal #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin 5sos #michael cliffor #michael clifford icons #michael clifford 5sos #michael 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagin #luke hemmings 5sos #luke 5sos #luke hemmings imagines #luke imagine #5sos

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diveronarpg · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations, NAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of CRESSIDA with an FC change to Bree Kish. Admin Rosey: I am absolutely shrieking over the fact that we have our beloved, ferocious Celeste back in the group! You have taken the character that has been presented and added a number of layers to her that makes her so completely and utterly unique in her own right. The potential future that you have built up for her has me completely over the moon and there is nothing I am more excited for than to watch her grow -- or fail. Regardless, I’m ready for Celeste to kick ass! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Nay.

Age | Twenty-one & I shall smut plenty, thank you very much.

Preferred Pronouns | she/her.

Activity Level | Active enough? I don’t apply for characters I’m not stupid in love with, so I’ll truly want to explore them every chance I get and activity doesn’t have a chance of being an issue. I’d hedge a bet on being a pretty solid 7 out of 10, allowing for when I’m just too tired for my brain to function to produce any measure of eloquence~

Timezone | GMT+5.

How did you find the RP? | I signed away my soul to it, oops.

Current/Past RP Accounts | I’ve never RP’ed a day before in my life… what are you talking about…?

IN CHARACTER

Character | CRESSIDA / Celeste Duval

{ NOTE: I’d really like to keep the FC change to Bree Kish, please. There’s just something about the red hair that really fits who I see Celeste as! }

What drew you to this character? | Have I told you how much I love this question? Because I love this question so much. It’s my favourite portion of the application: this opportunity to really go into actual detail about what it is about a particular character that gets you hooked. I so deeply enjoy the way it’s such a particular answer for every character—at least for me—that is very singularly attached to that one character, absolutely due to the fact that there is always a moment where I can’t resist it, whatever it is, the idea in my head or the skeleton, or long-paragraphed biography, or aesthetic concept.

With Celeste, it was empathy, to be completely honest with you. A part of me was already itching to sink my teeth into another character (and let’s just call that a testament to how quickly this group has restored the pleasure of this process for me) and I knew I wanted it to either be someone neutral, or a Montague – but I wasn’t expecting to casually, half-asleep, peruse through a biography & have to sit up in bed, electrified by a ZING! of connection. Let’s call that love at first sight. That’s what drew me to her. I read that biography, and my brain supplied a stanza from Plath’s Lady Lazarus: “Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air.”

But that’s a pretty brief cop-out of an answer, isn’t it? So I’ll at least tell you the many things about her that I am so in love with. I’ll tell you the way I love what a woman she is. I love her ferocity, and I love her humanness – which, I do want to clarify, isn’t necessarily not ferocious. I see Celeste as quite the discombobulation of aspects & emotions. When I speak of humanness, I mean that I love how vividly alive she is, and so intensely open to more classically tender feelings of adoration and hurt and sadness, yes, but also the more classically harsh emotions such as jealousy, and anger, and pettiness. I love her willpower, the sheer force of it that has tided her through so much of her life, and how it clashes with that very relatable, very painful internal need to be enough for our parents, to be accepted & loved by them, no matter how much you claim that you can do (and have been doing) without. I love what a sexy, confident, sassy, badass feminist she is. I see her as being extremely sexy, and 90% of that is how confident and unapologetic she is about taking up space. I genuinely just love what she represents.

And I want to be the one who develops her, with an integration of nuances that make her more than just a bold representation, and unravels a story that this wonderful, special baby deserves.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | As always, this is prefaced with the disclaimer that these are all subject to change, and merely ideas to build off of & give a vibe for the things I’d like to do with this super dynamic character.

→ ONE. The first thing has to be the plotline with Easton. Oh, wow – she wants to slice him like cheese, my friends. I would really like to explore her playing with that, because I think the connection in her biography says plenty: she will exact revenge. Now, I could see this playing out in many, many ways, honestly, but my favourite one is her using Easton’s game against him. He wants to make her feel powerless? Well, Celeste Duval is very, very well-versed in making men feel powerful, when it’s really her who is running the show. I see her, by sheer power of will, being one of those people who gets shit done, and she’s exceptionally clever, or she wouldn’t have made it this far in life with so many odds against her from the get-go. That plotline is something I’m absolutely dying to play around with, because I truly believe that it can be what builds her up or it can be what ultimately undoes her.

→ TWO. This marriage between her & Tomas is absolutely fascinating to me. I very much believe Celeste to be one of those all or nothing! kind of people, and with Tomas, though she feels nothing, it is a relationship that has a very gravitational pull on so many other aspects of her life. It is a representation of the sacrifice she made for parents who have never treated her to a modicum of parental affection, who she swears up & down don’t matter, and still, infuriatingly, very much do. It is a roadblock to a happy ending with a person who Celeste reveres, who is the love of her life and the centre of her universe and the only3 time in her life she’s felt like she is home. I really want to toy with that; I want to see how far Celeste can pull this off before this man can tell that she is not, and never will be, in love with him. I want to see if she’ll get to a point where she won’t even bother to pretend anymore. I want to see the dynamic of their marriage. And I’ll admit – I want him to find out that she has very much not been faithful to him, and then I want to see where she takes that truth.

→ THREE. I would really like to see Celeste reach a place of peace where her parents are concerned. I want to take her on a journey that makes her let go of them, and for her to find love, specifically familial love, in some corner that shows her what that sort of relationship is truly supposed to be. This is because I have this sneaking suspicion that this huge leap could make a sincerely positive wave, and the ripples would spread out to the other areas of her life. Celeste is a very dynamic character, and an extremely emotional one, and I can see her interpersonal relationships having an extreme impact on the direction/mind-set she opts for.

→ FOUR. On a less wholesome note, though, I want to see her choices challenge her relationship with Isabella, too. I want to explore this love of theirs – and I want to stretch Celeste thin about it, making her choose between her reputation, her misplaced sense of duty to her parents, her pragmatism & ambitions, and weigh them against this person she never planned to meet or love. I don’t think there is anything in the world that is more precious to Celeste than what is between herself & Isabella; I don’t think there is anything more sacred. I want to see the lengths she will go to protect it. I want to see what she would sacrifice for it, how much of who she decided she would be she can let go of, how brave she can be, how it can cause her to grow.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Maybe…

IN DEPTH

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW:

What is your favourite place in Verona?

By Isabella’s side, she knows, immediate and sure. There's no question about it. The location did not matter; a graze of her fingertips could make a church feel like it was made for sinning, a classroom for falling in love, a street for an exchange of the most intimate of secrets. There is no pause for contemplation. There is no need for questions.

Her smile is a secret — and privately, reverently, Celeste promises to keep it. Her shoulders lift in a careless shrug. “I don't favour places,” she smirks around the unabashed words. “I let them favour me.”

What does your typical day look like?

“Mmm,” the sound is soft, but never makes it to sweet. Gloss coats her mouth thickly, and it has nothing on the syrup drizzle of her words: “I detest the idea of typical. That was never the life I wanted to lead; routine makes me restless, and being restless makes me dangerous. Hasn't anyone told you about cornering animals? Doesn't end well.” And this once, it is not a lie. This is not surprising. There were many things that Celeste Duval could lie about, do it without so much as blinking twice – that was, all those except for those she cared not to.

This was a part of herself she chose not to sacrifice. Celeste refused to be bored. As her much-adored Zelda Fitzgerald had once written, it was chiefly because she wasn't boring.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“How much time do you have?” she asks, wryly. The arch of Celeste's brows is sharp, caught between something caustic & amused. It isn't funny – and somehow, that nearly earns a snort of laughter from her. Was her whole life not one? She had been one every day of her life, become who she has because of it. A girl, pretty & useless; only an accessory or tool or toy.

Wasn't marrying Tomas? As if she cared enough for it to be a contender. Was giving her heart up, losing any will to fight off how easy it was to belong to Isabella? Not being careful enough, being caught by the Craven runt? Perhaps not slitting every Capulet bastard's fucking throat on her way out of the cage they put her in?

Her laugh is poisonous. “There aren't enough hours in the world, mon chou.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“Tasks are not asked of me. They are given; synonymous with an order. There is no second or third option; there is no no's or fucking maybes,” the words had all the potential to be serrated, cutting through the poor wretch they were flung at, unflinching. Somehow, they come out patient. Solemn.

She leaves the answer at that, without truly giving one. Why would she? A lifetime's worth of being deemed weak, and there was a desire for an open admittance of it? HA! Celeste would be damned seven ways to Sunday before she fell for that. “Difficult is a subjective term. I fulfill my tasks; I rise to all challenges – and then, I conqueror them. That is the script I've penned for myself. Learn it.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Capulets. Oh, the very word sets her aflame. It's enough to have her fists curling to white-knuckled bundles at her sides, quivering. Is she meant to forget how they took her, kept her as their little prisoner? Is she meant to forget the way Easton Craven uses the brightest thing she has ever known to solicit dark betrayal from her – using her, just like them, like she was a toy?

“There is one acceptable ending. The streets can run red with their blood. I only hope to contribute to the spillage.” She does not blink.

Extras:

– pinterest board;

– headcanons:

Due to her mother being French, she was raised on a multilingual education. Celeste is, therefore, fluent in English, Italian & French – though, she automatically reverts to French cooing in situations calling for tenderness, and filthy, crude-mouthed Italian when she is angry.

Once, on her way home, Celeste was halted by a distinct, pitiful mewling sound from beneath a stairwell. A scrappy, runt of the litter, left abandoned, came home with her that day. She calls him Victor – after Victor Hugo.

There is no text in the world that Celeste Duval adores with the intensity she does the Les Misérables novels. Already, she has large chunks of it memorized, and it is not enough to keep her from curling up in a bathtub with one at the end of a hard day.

There’s very little in the world that a hot bath can’t make her feel at least a fraction better about. She spends entirely too much money on bath-bombs.

She deeply, deeply dislikes children. She has zero tolerance for their shenanigans, no thank you.

Though she is categorically partial to jewellery in general, she has an affinity for anklets in particular. It is very rare to see her without one wound around an ankle, typically her left one.

She enjoys a nice trashy tabloid with her breakfast, but she’ll watch some news after a raunchy round of sex.

Celeste thinks about quitting smoking at least once a day. The better half of a decade into the nasty habit, and she has yet to go through with it.

The one part of herself she was insecure about growing up, and the one part she is astonishingly vain about in adulthood is the same: her hair. She cares for it meticulously, for all that it is always in a very deliberate state of dishevelment.

She has an awful, awful nail-biting habit.

#accepted #accepted: cressida

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shes-fast-like-me · 5 years

Note

⭐️ :) -RavagingValiance

ok fuck wow. “heaven ‘n’ back” is literally my favourite thing i’ve written so far, and it was completely on a whim

also this got way longer than i intended it to, hope ya dont mind

i wanted to write something cute for lifetane because ever since i started shipping it enough to write for it, i’ve been writing heavy angst. then everything changed when i heard the first released song of chase atlantic’s “phases” album askjajsbja

here’s where my influence came from: the album’s cover is very heavily pink, and hearing the song “her” played over the picture of that pretty album cover? honest to god inspired this fic. i’m not kidding

i didn’t link the song to lifetane at first (now i do) but just. the image of them, somewhere high up, with a pink background, stuck in my mind for ages and ages until i just forced myself to write it. around the same time, the music vid came out for “her” and at the end of it they teased “heaven and back” and here, ladies and gents, is where the title comes from. neither song has anything to do with the fic lyric-wise. it’s purely because of the Aesthetic

but alright here’s the good bits: why is it written the way it is? well let’s start with the colours. lots of pinks, i made sure when posting it that it sounded exactly the way i envisioned it. i heavily associate lifeline with pink, and i thought since i’m making everything else pink, the emphasis is going to be pink. all the pink lines (”pretty pink, like the sky as it set” and “pink was starting to become his new favourite colour”) where not planned but the second i thought of them i was like “oh that’s brilliant”. the whole emphasis on pink and how it reminds octavio of ajay is just 👌 exactly what i wanted this fic to convey. everything is pink becus his whole world has become pink thanks to her

as for the heaven comparisons? well once i got the title down, i realised i need to somehow link it with the fic. this also however tied in with my personal headcanon that octavio grew up in a family that was predominantly catholic christian. i don’t think he really believes it anymore though, however once something has been drilled into your whole life, it’s kinda hard to get out of your head. plus, when you meet someone as kind and beautiful as ajay it’s hard not to make angel comparisons uwu

“he didn’t know what Heaven felt like but this was probably a damn good comparison” is probably my biggest galaxy brain moment ever. i thought of this line and just had to fit it in. i like that it implies that octavio wants to go to heaven but isnt sure if he will, but hey at least he’s got this moment instead right? idk it’s just pretty neat of me, not to brag

i just rlly like the way it all flows together. i like how i got octane’s characterization fairly close (if i say so myself) to canon (the whole craving adrenaline and no fear of death thing) even with having little to work off (this was written a while ago). i made it real sappy cus i wanted it to be real sappy. i feel like octavio’s a dork and doesnt know what to do with himself half the time she flirts with him.

phew, so that’s all i’ve got. sorry that i rambled so much but i probably wont get this opportunity again so i’m gonna let it all out now lmao. hope this didn’t bore you lol

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine one-shot - “Starting Something Ghoul” (Rated PG13)

Kurt and his son meet a special little boy and his father while out trick-or-treating. (2722 words)

A/N: I'm kind of in the Halloween spirit, so I thought I would get a jump start with a re-write that was cute instead of depressing this time around xD Tell me what you think :)

Read on AO3.

Knock-Knock.

“Trick or Treat!” a chorus of high-pitched voices commands. Then silence consumes them as their tiny owners wait, bags and plastic pumpkins and pillowcases in hand, for the opening of the door. A heartbeat passes, then another, with no sound or movement from within. The young beggars shiver in unison when a stiff breeze winds its way through their ankles, causing the metal wind chimes hanging over their heads to toll. Finally, the door slowly creaks open, excitement rising to a fever pitch in anticipation of what comes next.

It’s an old house, but a familiar one. A house that always has carved pumpkins sitting on the porch at Halloween and handmade wreaths hanging from the railing at Christmas. A house that generations of children have run up to and knocked upon for candy or with carols. Those children grow up and bring their own children back to visit its grandmotherly inhabitant, who never seems to age, and who always has a smile on her face and a tray of homemade candied apples wrapped in wax paper waiting for her guests.

The white-haired woman opens her door and steps out. She looks at the crowd of masks and made-up faces surrounding her, and gasps in mock fear.

“My goodness!” she says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Look at all these goblins and ghouls on my porch tonight! I don’t suppose any of you like candied apples, hmm?”

“Me! Me!” the cries ring out. The woman reaches into her house and grabs the apples off their tray, skewered on sturdy wooden sticks decorated to look like ghosts and broomsticks. She hands them out one at a time to child and parent alike, receiving a grateful “Thank you!” with every one. And while she does, the woman peruses each child and comments on their costume – the hand-crafted along with the store bought – with nothing but the highest praise.

“What a spectacular Frankenstein you make, Tony! Your mother went all out this year!”

“Captain America? He was my favorite superhero when I was a little girl! And you definitely fit the role well, Amanda!”

“What an absolutely fetching Pikachu you make, Kevin! Your father brought your costume home all the way from Japan, you say? What a lucky little boy to have such an authentic costume!”

As the crowd thins, two final boys approach, having waited politely at the rear for their turn.

“Why, Finn Hummel,” the lady coos, smiling at the boy in the glittering indigo tuxedo and cape. His hair is slicked back, his face painted white, and what looks like fangs drawn over his lower lip since the retainers on his teeth won’t accommodate a real pair. “What a stunning vampire costume! Did your father make it again this year?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy replies smiling wide, his red lips dripping fake blood at the corners.

“He did an outstanding job, just like he does every year. You’re a fortunate young man to have such a talented designer at your disposal as your father.” She hands him an apple and he drops it into his bag.

“Thank you, Mrs. Karofsky.”

“You’re very welcome.” Her eyes bounce to the boy standing beside him. “And you – another scary vampire! But I don’t think I remember seeing you before. What’s your name?”

“Michael,” the boy says, speaking with a pronounced lisp courtesy of the plastic fangs crowding his mouth.

“Here, Michael,” she says, handing him an apple. “Thank you for stopping by so I could see your gorgeous costume. Give your parents my fondest regards.”

“Yesh, ma’am,” the boy slurs, trying his best not to spit. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The boys wave goodbye as the kind woman closes her door. They turn together, stepping down from the porch, eyeing one another’s costumes as if they’re catwalk rivals.

“Stho, your father makesth your costumes?” Michael asks, looking Finn’s glittery outfit up and down.

“Yup.” Finn holds his head high and gives the boy a spin so that his cape twirls in the air – his favorite thing about the weighty fabric. “And what about your costume? It’s pretty cool. Did your parents buy it? Or did someone make it for you?”

“It’sth vintage,” Michael says proudly, his tongue tripping over his teeth. He holds the ends of his cape out, fanning the wings they make. “It wasth my father’s from a long, long, long time ago, when he wasth a little boy.”

“That’s right, Michael,” a raven-haired man says, receiving his son at the wooden gate. “It belonged to your ancient, elderly father, back before the invention of the wheel.”

The man standing beside him chuckles, reaching a hand out to Finn as the boy walks through the gate. “Wow. That is vintage.”

“Halloween only comes once a year, so why not pull out all the stops?”

“It really is an amazing costume, Mr. …”

“Anderson,” Michael’s father supplies, holding out his hand in greeting. “Blaine Anderson.”

“Kurt,” Finn’s father answers, taking Blaine’s hand and shaking it. “Kurt Hummel. This is my son, Finn.”

Blaine nods at the boy in the sparkly cape, who is less concerned with the subject of adults’ names than he is with comparing his haul to the boy’s beside him.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Kurt remarks as the boys dive head first into their bags.

“They’ve got about ninety pounds of chocolate between them,” Blaine says. “It was bound to happen.”

Kurt watches as the boys divvy up their candy, but he can’t help narrowing his eyes curiously at the handsome man tousling his son’s hair. “If you don’t mind my asking, does Michael attend Matthew Shepard Elementary School? Because Finn goes there, but I don’t think I’ve seen you or your son before.”

“Is that so strange?” Blaine asks, his grin becoming tight, but not terribly so.

“No. It’s just – we’re a small community. Everyone here knows everyone else, that sort of thing. I think I would have remembered bumping into you at the last PTA meeting, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine’s lips curl into a smooth grin at the way Kurt calls him Mr. Anderson. “Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“Ah.” Blaine bobs his head, looking suddenly sheepish. “Well, to be perfectly honest, we’re not from around here.” He gestures to the neighborhood as a whole, which gives Kurt the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his left hand.

No wedding ring.

“Gotcha.” Kurt winks, wondering why he’s acting so flirty when he’d resolved to grow old alone not three months ago, right after his husband left him and their son for another man. “It’s no secret that we’re one of the few neighborhoods in Lima that gives out full-sized candy bars and real popcorn balls, not that stale, store-bought crud, so we get a lot of outsiders here.” Blaine’s lips quirk, almost in shame it seems, and Kurt rushes to elaborate. “N---not that we mind, of course. It’s nice to see some new blood around here.”

Blaine smirks, then sputters a laugh, and Kurt turns wide eyes on him.

“Wh---what?” he asks self-consciously, realizing that his previous attempt at flirting may be crashing and burning the more he speaks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Blaine says. “It’s … you’re kind of cute when you get flustered.”

“Oh,” Kurt squeaks, his cheeks rapidly becoming the shade of one of Mrs. Karofsky’s candied apples. “I am? I mean … am I? Oh …”

“Actually,” Blaine interjects when Kurt’s unfinished sentence stumbles to an undignified halt, “we’re not here because of the candy. We can’t eat it.”

Finn, totally engrossed in his conversation with Michael, catches that last part. His head snaps up, jaw dropping to the ground with utter and morose disbelief written all over his face.

“Don’t eat it?” he moans, disappointed on his new friend’s behalf. “Why not?”

“I’m on a special diet,” Michael says, staring forlornly at his pregnant bag of sweets.

“A special diet?” Kurt frowns, looking from Michael back to his father.

“I adopted Michael from an orphanage overseas,” Blaine explains, glancing down the street at a new wave of trick-or-treaters headed their way, checking the distance between them and other possible prying ears. “He has a rare, blood-borne illness that their hospitals were not equipped to handle. My family, however, has spent generations studying this disease. Since I have no spouse or other children of my own, I was more than happy to invite Michael into my home and give him the care he needs.”

“But … is he okay now?” Kurt asks, gazing at the boy’s pale face and round, dark eyes with concern.

“There is no cure,” Blaine says, watching the way Kurt looks at his son, the sincerity in his expression, “but we’re managing it the best we can. We have the support of my family’s foundation, and that gives me an exceptional amount of freedom.” Blaine puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It helps when you don’t have to worry about things like money. I feel awful for those parents whose children have to battle serious illnesses without the benefit of a disposable income.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one?”

Blaine ducks his head, his sheepish smile from before making a comeback. “It’s old money, sitting in the bank, doing nothing but collecting interest and dust. I like that I can put it to good use.”

Kurt looks up when Blaine does. He meets deep hazel eyes that catch the surrounding street lights and flickering Jack-O-Lantern candles in such an unusual, mesmerizing way, as if with a single blink Blaine could read Kurt’s mind, or hypnotize him into doing his bidding. Kurt shivers. Blaine notices. He grins deviously, and Kurt laughs.

He’s letting the magic of the evening get to him, and Blaine apparently knows it.

From the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Finn yawn. He pulls up the sleeve of his sweater and checks his watch.

“Oh my goodness! Look at the time. When did it get so late?”

“We’re not going home already, are we?” Finn asks, fighting back a second yawn.

“Already? It’s after ten o’clock! Grandpa will want to see you in your costume one last time before he goes to sleep. Besides, you’re just about dead on your feet, kiddo, and I can’t carry you all the way back to the house.”

“We’d better be heading out as well,” Blaine says, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders and holding him close.

“Do we have to?” Michael asks, sulking into his father’s embrace.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh, alright.” Michael turns to Finn, who yawns again, his eyes beginning to droop. “It was nice meeting you, Finn.”

“It was nice meeting you, too.”

“Do you guys …?” Kurt starts, not eager to see this captivating man disappear so quickly. Kurt would stay out all night talking to Blaine and his adorable little boy if he could. Their lives sound so fascinating. But he has responsibilities, and they take precedence over his social life. “I know you said you aren’t from around here …”

“We’re in Westerville,” Blaine says, anticipating Kurt’s question. “About two hours, give or take, as the bat flies.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, as disappointed as Finn was over Michael’s destined-to-remain-uneaten candy. “That’s … quite a distance to travel for candy you can’t eat.”

“We’re visiting family,” Blaine explains. “Family that we’ve been looking into visiting more often, maybe even move closer to, so … we might see you around?”

Blaine looks at Kurt through long, dark lashes, and Kurt nods, because if that question implies what Kurt hopes it does, the answer is definitely yes.

“Who knows? We might end up being neighbors.”

“Possibly,” Blaine replies, his voice a vague promise. “But either way, perhaps I could take you out for a bite?”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Kurt tries his best to remain calm as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet for his business card when all he really wants to do is leap into the air and scream Yes! He knows times have changed, but he honestly thought he’d have to resort to making a Grindr profile before he would even find a guy willing to go out for drinks with him, not necessarily because he’s a single dad, but because he chose to move back to Lima, of all places - not exactly the hub of the dating scene for eligible gay bachelors. But the first gorgeous man he meets is not only a single dad himself, but a wealthy philanthropist, and drop dead gorgeous? What lottery did Kurt suddenly win, and why didn’t it kick in years ago?

The second Kurt slides his card out Blaine takes it, slipping it from between Kurt’s fingers and tucking it into his inside breast pocket. Kurt watches with a smile, his insides fluttering as if the butterflies that have been held captive there throughout his entire marriage had miraculously learned how to fly again.

“I’ll give you a call,” Blaine says.

“You do that.” Kurt raises his hand and waves goodbye, backing away and pulling Finn along with him. Blaine waves back, turning down the street with Michael in tow, his bag of candy tucked under his arm.

Blaine and Michael weave their way through several tides of children still out and about despite the late hour, racing up to houses and knocking noisily on doors.

“So” - Blaine smiles down at his son – “did you have a good time?”

“Yesh.” Michael reaches up and spits into his hand the false teeth that had been covering his real fangs all night. He shoves them into his treat bag, glad to be rid of them. “That was a blast! Finn and his dad are really nice. Don’t you think they’re really nice?” Michael asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet with every step.

“Yes, they definitely were. Very nice.” Blaine looks over his shoulder, employing his supernatural vision to spot the father and son walking in the opposite direction down the street. Kurt looks behind him as well, biting his lower lip as if he knows he’s being watched. Blaine eyes the dent Kurt’s teeth make in his skin. If his heart were still beating, it would be racing out of control by now. “And luckily ...” Blaine puts a hand over the pocket with the business card safely hidden inside “… we’ll be seeing them again … very soon.” They walk against the flow of revelers, ducking down a dark street with no lamps lit, no decorations on the porches, no trick-or-treaters anywhere to be seen.

“Really?” Michael beams over the prospect of seeing his new friend again as Blaine leads his son deeper into the shadows.

“Absolutely. Here.” Blaine stops beneath a cluster of trees beside an empty house-for-sale. “This looks like a good spot. Are you ready to give it another try?”

Michael stops beaming and sighs. “I guess so,” he says, fidgeting with the handles of his bag.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so upset?” Blaine asks, relieving Michael of his bag and setting it on the ground.

“I’m not as good at it as you are.”

“It takes practice. You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Blaine promises, and with that, he changes – body shrinking, proportions readjusting, skeleton metamorphosing, all in the blink of an eye. Transforming into a bat is effortless for Blaine. He’s had over a century to practice, after all. Michael scrunches his nose and holds his breath, concentrating the way Blaine taught him. After three failed attempts, he manages the feat, but with a little less finesse than his father. But even though he’s only done it about a dozen times, he makes a handsome young bat, and Blaine knows that once Michael completely accepts his true nature, he’ll become a powerful vampire. Still, two vampires do hardly a coven make. It would be nice, Blaine thinks as he pictures Kurt in his mind where he is right now, walking up the steps to a single-family dwelling at the far end of the neighborhood, to bring a few more vampires into the fold.

Some new blood, as Kurt so aptly put it.

Father and son circle the quiet neighborhood once to stretch their leathery wings, then take to the air, disappearing into the night.

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #frankie writes

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burmecianblackmage · 7 years

Text

Post #3000

Wow. This here, this just now, is according to tumblr the 3000th post I make on this blog. Who would have thought I’d stick around this long, that I’d post this much on here? And it’s been a wild ride.

I wanna use this opportunity to mention a few people as well as some stats, and since it will get long with the mentions, I figure I’d better start with the boring part - the stats, that is. So, without further ado, here we go:

Blog Statistics

As of this post, I have as already stated 3000 entries posted onto this blog, but those aren’t the only numbers to mention here. I also have liked a whooping 4404 Favorites on here, as well as followed 460 blogs. Now, I know most of these have long since stopped being active, but since I pretty much never unfollow people, that number only kept growing. It’s hard to tell how many are actually still active - and how many of those even are interested in my muse...

But let’s leave that aside! Since this blog was established on February 4, 2014 with this post, a total of 3 years, 7 months and 21 days have passed - or 1329 days in total. Many of those days have been quite interesting, filled with intriguing plays and fun encounters, and I’ve racked up a respectable 2.2573 posts per day average - not bad for a hobby, eh? Especially considering how long some of my posts tend to get...

Anyhow, in all that time, I have been gifted with a total of 433 Followers, some of which enriching my life greatly, and it will be them that I shall adress under the cut. I’ve also somehow pilled up a whooping 273 Drafts saved, but don’t be alarmed: None of those are plays I’m involved in. In fact, it’s almost entirely memes and prompts and whatnot that I stored for later use, and quite frankly, I’d do well to clean them out a bit soon...

On that note let me say that it is a pity that you cannot see a tally of how many notes your posts got, or how many of them were just what. It would have been intriguing to see how often I posted stuff only to be ignored, and how often the things I posted actually spawned something great. Ah well...

Anyhow, without further ado, let’s move to why you guys came to look at this post:

My dear Friends

Below the cut, I will list some of the people most important to me on this blog, and my thoughts on them. Please note that I do not mean to omit anybody, and should I forget someone, it does not happen out of ill-will but rather because I am sometimes a bit forgetful. If you aren’t on this list but would wish to be, then I will gladly make an addendum to it if you notify me, alright?

Maria, the Wild Rose Archer - @artemisxbow

Eri, we’ve now known each other for a good 3 years, but it’s only been in the last one that we really started to talk more, and for our muses to interact more - and look where that has lead us! We subject our two to angst and suffering, we plot evil things and have tons of hurtful ideas, and it’s not rare that I start going off on a tangent when we talk over Discord. Erm, I guess, long story short: I’m glad to know you and to play with you, and I am sorry for always being so mean to our muses. To many more adventures and plays!

Freya, the Lady Dragon Knight - @burmecias-protector

Freya-Mun, you were the first to play with me here on tumblr, and even though our plays have become quite sporadic, I always enjoy seeing you on my dash. You have an interesting way of writing and give Freya a lot of life - with all the joys and troubles that come with it. I wish we could have some more fluid plays between us again, but things are as they are, and I’m just glad we even get to play in the first place. Sceada looks up to Freya, though he’d hesitate to admit so.

Leonora, the lovely Sage - @containyourmainposure

Gwenny, you always used to be one of my favorite roleplayers on here, and I still adore your writing style. Your Leonora has long since become the way I see the canon Leonora as well, and the depth you’ve given her never ceases to amaze me. I really, truly loved writing with you as well as shipping with you - and I am sad that due to how things developed, not only has the ship sunk, but also the time we write together rapidly declined. I know it is mostly for life reasons, still, I can’t help but feel sad over it and miss it. Just like I lament the fact that it’s been ages since we’ve actually finished a thread properly... But things are as they are, and we have to take what we can get, and I’m just glad to still have you around, even if we don’t talk as much anymore. Nonetheless, I am still happy for you and how you improved your life, and hope it keeps getting better!

Leila, the daring Pirate - @dancing-dagger

Leila-Mun, I know we haven’t exactly written as much together and also haven’t really talked much, but I still consider you one of my closer friends on here. You are one that’s always open for fun and doesn’t hold back in her writing, and I really like that. You have great humor and are a pleasure to have around, no matter which muse. I hope we’ll eventually get to play more again, for I feel our muses have an interesting dynamic between them that would be fun to explore, and a number of conflicts awaiting them - be it as friends or more. I’ll try and reach out to you more soon, I promise!

Vani, the Halfling Rogue - @not-a-rogue

Lou, I’m gonna be honest with you, when I first saw you switching muses I was a bit sad. Your Porom looked very promising, and I would have loved to play more with her - but that is not to say that I like Vani any less than her, oh no. Vani has quickly become one of the most intriguing and amusing muses on my dash, and it is ever so great how she keeps forcing Sceada out of his shell with how she acts around him. Granted, sometimes that proves to be a mistake, but all in all both he and I really like your Halfling - and you too, of course. You are fun to talk with, and a really, really talented artist. I don’t know if others think so too, but you strike me as one of those muns that is just refreshingly uncomplicated and easy to approach - and I for one look forward to many more plays with you and your muses!

Emerya, the Envoy of the Fey - @atieflingwarlock

Emerya-Mun, I have to say I really, really love your muse, more than I’d ever have expected to. She is so much fun to read, yet also hides so much tragedy, and both me and Sceada genuinely want to learn more about her, and if possible to help mend her wounds. It amuses me time and time again how easily she can fluster Sceada, and how she has this very special charm to herself. I’m curious just where these two could go in the future, and how it’d all develop - and I have a good feeling that in due time, we may see it happen. Also I wanna thank you again for your help “translating” Sceada into a DnD setting, it was a lot of fun to build him up like that and now having him try and show what he can do!

Aria, the Maiden of Water - @nymphaxea

Aria-Mun, I know we haven’t known each other for long and haven’t talked all that much, but you seem like a very nice person and quite frankly, I like the way you portray your muse. The way she acts and thinks is at the same time quite admirable and challenging for my Sceada, as evidenced by that thread where he got unexpectedly angry over her resignation. I feel they have an interesting dynamic, and the few things we discussed felt very fitting too - and the best thing, it still leaves the door open for many possible directions these two could go. I hope we’ll get to explore their relationship more in future plays, and that you’ll feel better soon!

Amina, the reckless Adventurer - @the-shadow-of-a-wielder

Gem, I really like plotting and playing with you, and Amina is such an intriguing character, full of mystery and magic. I enjoy her personality as much as your willingness to throw her at anything, for better or worse. We can hatch so many different plots and scenarios, it’s amazing. Also, you are a very nice person, and to quote freely, “your crazy matches my crazy rather well”. I look forward to keep playing with you and eventually inch closer to uncovering the mysteries about Amina and her origins. Maybe we can even revive the two other verses we had? I’d certainly be all up for that!

Lenora, the Embodiment of Love - @thislovelylady // Edea, Grandmarshall of Eternia - @ladyofeternia

Lanna, Lanna, Lanna... - Of course a list like this would not be complete without you. We may neither play nor talk as often anymore as we used to, but back when I started out, you were a pretty big influence on my roleplaying, especially on Kamiizumi. The headcanons and angsty plots we created are treasured memories to me, and I have never stopped liking the way you write. It’s a bit sad that our muses don’t mesh that well with each another, because quite frankly, I do miss playing with you. Maybe one day this will be different again, who knows. Either way, I just wanna say thank you for all the times we interacted, and all the things I managed to learn from you or thanks to you. You were the heart of the Bravely RP community, and will always be remembered as such.

Brii, the Dragonhearted - @briidunviing

Brii, you know that even though we’ve barely had a thread so far between our muses, that I nonetheless consider you one of my best friends on here. You’re probably the one I talk the most with out of rp, and we seem to get along pretty well. You know I always have an open ear for you - and I’m sure you have one for me too. That having been said, I do quite like your muse! It’s a very interesting OC with a lot of inner turmoil, and the kind you just wanna help - even if you don’t know how. I’m curious to see where our muses will go once the blizzard calms down, but either way I’d be delighted to play more with you, friend.

Further Mentions:

All of you are people that I do play with and that I enjoy seeing on my dash. I’m sorry I didn’t dedicate you your own paragraph here, but if you would want me to talk a bit more about you, then by all means feel free to notify me and I’ll make an addendum for you! But even if I do not dedicate a paragraph to you, please know that I really, really enjoy seeing you on my dash and like playing with you, no matter how much or how little we’ve done so far! You are precious friends to me!

Jack, the cunning Thief - @ofgil || Teledji, the sleazy Merchant - @high-stakes-gambler || Kefka, the insane God of Magic - @light-of-judgment || Terra, the Half-Esper - @riotxblade || Vhaso’a, the tailoring Red Mage - @thevermiliongaelicatte || Lily, the aspiring Summoner - @losteidolon || Rojo, the red Chocobo - @fabulousredkweh & Lamya, the Chocobo-Breeder - @bokobreeder || Fran, the dignified Viera - @feralstriike || Faris, the Pirate Captain - @ask-captain-faris

This list would not be complete (or rather, more incomplete...) without the old friends that sadly no longer are active, but never will be forgotten. I always loved playing with you, you were wonderful people, and even if with some of you it’s only been a small number of plays, I treasure you nonetheless and silently hope that maybe one day, I might see you again:

Ritz, the valiant Student - @viera-blessed || Garuda, the sealed Primal - @ladyofgentlebreezes || Calisto, the Burmecian Knight - @burmecianknight || Garnet, the summoning Princess - @beyondtheflyingbird || Locke, the Treasure Hunter - @thepricewasright || Minfilia, the Antecedent - @sharlayanmistress || Eiko, the Lady of Lindblum - @ladyoflindblum || Garnet, the kind-hearted Queen - @avaliantqueen || Selphie, the cheerful SEEED @sunny-explosions

And finally, there are also some people I have yet to actually play with, but that are often on my dash and I enjoy reading immensly. There are differing reasons why we don’t play, and it is alright that we don’t, but should things ever change, I’d be delighted to start something with you! Until then, please allow me to keep admiring your writng from afar^^

Kuja, the magnificent Genome - @xkuja || Hylia, the Great Goddess - @hyliahergrace || Amaterasu, Mother to All - @mammaterasu || Mipha, the graceful Champion - @elegansproelior || Mikoto, the animated Genome - @emptyshards @xbranbal || Kitsuno, the dancing Princess - @foxlike-ffxiv || Eiko, the perky Summoner @sukoshishokan

Thank you all for enriching my experience here as a roleplayer! I love you all <3

Patrick~

#TreasuredMemories #ooc #This felt like a fitting milestone #so I prepared for it a bit in advance #Anyhow!#I love you all #I hope you know that!!

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iraniq · 7 years

Text

ONE EYE CLOSED XIII

Author’s note: necrophilia, anciant Gods

- So, what’s this ‘My book, I’ll appreciate if you don’t touch it!’ - A book, like a magic book? ‘It’s a Grimoire.’ - Grim … what? ‘Grimoire, a book of magic, with spells inside.’ - Is this the … like … I mean, is this the One you brought me back with? ‘No … ‘ - Where is it, the One, I wanna see it. ‘The One, you are looking for … there it is …’ - … damn it’s huge! ‘The Necronomicon written by the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred … my favourite bed time story … you know, I kinda stole it, dig it from his grave, he was dead, for a while, although he didn’t look dead at all …‘ - … well he wrote a book “how to bring the dead back to life”, excuse him, if he wasn’t looking like a corpse, also digging graves at early age, why I am not surprised … so this it the Book? I thought it will be more … looking like a spell book … ‘… you mean, bound with silver, salt … garlic?’ - Very funny, but yes, something like this … heavy material, or something, like the movies! ‘Yeah, so it would scream “the book of undead, resurrection, and how to make a voodoo doll to scratch your back, where you can’t”! ‘ - … wha … what? Was this the first idea of the name of the book? ‘I Don’t know, maybe …’ - So … ‘So?’ - So … you know … ‘We are living together for almost a year, and you ask just now?’ - Well … the first couple of months felt like I was high drunk and dreaming all together and I barely remember anything more than a blur visions and you yelling and beating me! ‘Well … you were touching and mostly breaking everything, so …’ ‘No, I don’t I am not a telepath I can’t read your mind!’ - Your loss! ’Totally not!’ - So, how … how you did it, how you brought me back? … tell me! ‘Well …’ - Please, Bel! ‘Ok, ok! … it all started the night …’ - … with the moon eclipse? ‘Yes, the moon eclipse … you were pretty and everything, I made you perfect …’ - … to which I thank you, in case I haven’t mentioned it before! ‘Noted! So … you were ready to die, you drank the poison and … just died, your heart stopped … it didn’t felt right, you were ready to die, but it wasn’t your time, your … spirit was strong … I can’t describe it with words but I still remember how it felt, floating around …’ - … my spirit? ‘Yes … very … I can’t describe the feeling, but … your spirit was like an … masterpiece to an artist. So at this particular moment I decided to bring you back.’ - Wait … you decided? ‘Yes!’ - So … you haven’t planned this? ‘Of course I was, you only paid me to make you pretty before you die … but it was going to be more like a … screwing up with a dead body … not in the sexual way of course. You know it’s rather rare when I have the opportunity to work with fresh specimens.’ - Yeah I know … I dig them after all … ‘…still it bugs me, what kind of magic killed you.’ - Magic?! Magic … how come you haven’t told me this?!? … ‘Well I deeply believe it was, it wasn’t a common decease that killed you, you were rotting alive! It’s impossible to catch such a … plague and not to infect anyone else! And no doctor find a cure, or locked you away for isolation … or they simply could not see what you and me saw …’ - It’s a possible theory … Magic? ‘What?’ - you haven’t told me? ‘You haven’t asked!’ - I had no idea. That’s why I haven’t asked!!!! ‘We were talking about you, not coming to the time of your death.’ - How come you knew it wasn’t my time? ‘The dead told me … more like whispered.’ - Whispered what? ‘I can’t say it, but they told me you are way to early … sometimes someone can go earlier, but not that early … they can’t be later, because this means someone else from the family must die before their time … death should get it’s time … on time!’ - What about the one who died early, you mean … if someone should die on Friday and they die on Monday … ‘Someone from the family … no, someone from their bloodline will live with 4 days more!’ - Interesting … ‘Yeah …’ - What was the feeling, of bringing me back? ‘Exhausting … I bound my life energy with yours.’ - You are not alive, remember! … As you love to remind me … ‘… I am not alive in … your way of understanding. That’s why I eat people. I took their life time, life energy, I also eat their souls, this keeps my “necro energy” full … like, charging a battery.’ - Hm … charging batteries will never be the same. Where does the “necrophilia” comes from, I googled it, and it was originally diagnostic like a mental illness, of people who miss their dead lovers, or people rejected … ‘… yeah, yeah … it comes from us. We raise back the dead, it’s the dead … and if it’s way after they are back … well …’ - You slept with dead people? ‘Eww … what the fuck is wrong with you, I don’t want to even sit next to you, not to mention touch you …and you keep suggesting this!’ - Ok, ok! But you say it comes from you? ‘Not form me literally … from people who … necromants … some of them were weird enough to do this, while bringing them back … some did it for fun, some … simply because they could and no one dared to stop them, I even heard some killed pretty girls on purpose, so they can have sex with them later … when they are dead …’ - Wow … weird … and no one stopped them … ‘Not from the living, all feared them … all of them who … dared to … go free on their desires died in suspicious ways, but no one questioned this and no one dared to even go close, the whole place was burned down, and they weren’t named again.’ - But you just did. ‘I mentioned their existence, not their names!’ - Oh … so there are rules … ‘Yes!’ - Written somewhere maybe …. In the books? ‘No … they are whispered, by the spirits of the dead, they come in riddles … and everyone decodes them in their own way.’ - What about you? Someone whispering you something? ‘No, becau …’ - … because you are the Chosen One, and your father was some ancient god, whose presence you felt while reading an forbidden old book of “how to talks with Ancient Gods” … btw, you didn’t answer to my question, about Cthulhu? - Wanna call in The Nameless Cityand ask if he is home? - Am, no, maybe another time. Hey, give it back! … put my phone down … hey, I mean … why is the book flying … no … NO, YOU ARE NOT CALLING IN THE NAMELESS CITY, you hear me … BEL!!! ‘QUIET! … see, he wasn’t home … why are you crying, I didn’t call Cthulhu, I called Mr. Lovecraft … but he wasn’t home either …’ - Jesus Christ, Bel, Mr. Lovecraft is long dead … don’t do this again! What if something happens … what if someone answers … what if … ‘I know he is dead, probably drinking margaritas with The One C and it’s not my first time it … it’s my father … what, you think I didn’t tried calling him, among the other Gods … why you thing I brought you back, you are my perfect ticket, now I have the power to … “call” the VIP line of the gods … and I intend to!’ - I am scared! ‘Don’t be, I’ll protect you ... NO HUGS, OR I’LL CALL AGAIN, THIS TIME FOR REAL! ... and don’t freaking slam the door, it’s falling apart anyway ... Ugh!

___________________

@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @auntiemama1 @wolfgirl1074 @sookieblack12 @lady-grinning-soul-k @lylabell2013

#my writing #dialogue story #weird story #one eye closed #Necromancer #necromancer story #cannibal #necrophillia mention #ancient gods #cthulhu #h.p. lovecraft

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anoldwound · 7 years

Text

Preserve Your Memories, Chapter Two - John/Sholto [BBC Sherlock]

Chapter 2

Maxwell

November 2nd.

He studied the calendar on his desk pad, each of the old days marked off with a large, red X.

Exactly one year and eleven months since that bomb had burned the left side of his body and killed those men.

One year, eleven months, and hundreds of death threats later, here he was. Still.

If nothing else, it was a testament to how well he was able to keep going, even when he didn't really want to.

He studied the schedule for the day, and saw that it was, coincidentally, also the day for the new staff cycle. He'd nearly forgotten, after yesterday's debacle with the chef. It was going to take ages for the new maid to clean the pudding off of the chandelier.

James went to go prepare, grabbing an apple from the kitchen.

* * *

The new staff members stood in a line in the foyer, backs straight and feet planted firmly on the ground. The new chef, the new driver, the new maid, and the new nurse.

James was far enough along in his recovery that he no longer needed assistance dressing, showering, or going about his daily activities, and he'd also completed physical therapy some time ago. His scars had mostly healed by this point, though it was still necessary to apply lotion in order to prevent dryness and blisters. James was perfectly capable of functioning on his own, but he'd been advised to still have a private nurse visit a few times a week to monitor his progress and administer his medication. He didn't much see the point, but did so anyway.

This particular nurse was named Maxwell Bertrand, and his resume had been singularly impressive. He was American, and had trained at Johns Hopkins, before inexplicably coming to England and spending a year in the burn unit at Chelsea & Westminster. He then, also inexplicably, gave that up to become a private nurse, which he had (according to his references) been doing an excellent job at for the past six months.

James came up to him in the line-up. He was of an average height, with dark skin, broad shoulders, and slim hips. James could not help but note his striking good looks, though he quickly moved on to other things in his head.

“Nurse Bertrand,” he said. “Welcome.”

“You can just call me Maxwell. And hi.” He smiled. It was a nice smile, warm and friendly. A finely groomed goatee surrounded his mouth.

As James greeted everyone else, and as the rest of the day proceeded, it was notable that none of the others addressed him so informally, which was what he preferred. There was nothing wrong with this Maxwell fellow, per se – he was nothing but respectful and courteous – but it would not do if he attempted to form some sort of personal relationship. And he seemed like the sort who might try. It had happened a few times before, his nurses attempting to become his friend. It never ended well. James had never been the type to make friends very easily. People gave up after a while. So many found him off-putting, and he could hardly blame them.

Still, though, the man's expertise couldn't be denied, and James had always had respect for those who were extremely competent in the field of medicine (an image of John stitching up a wound flashed across his mind). There was no sense in letting go of someone that dedicated for hypothetical and largely unfounded reasons.

When the afternoon drew to a close and night began creeping across the landscape, James sat in his office going over some documents when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

Maxwell Bertrand creaked the door open, looking apologetic. He inched his way into the room.

“Listen,” he started, “I'm really sorry about this, but I don't think I can keep working for you.”

Well, this was a surprise. James put his pen down. “Oh? Why not?”

“It's just... well, it's a really long commute. Like, insanely long. Much longer than I thought it was gonna be.”

“You'll only be here a few times a week.”

“I know, but...” He worried at his lower lip. “Money's kind of tight for me right now, even with how much you're paying me, and because it takes me so long to get here and back that means there's less jobs I can take. So, I really appreciate the opportunity, and I can give you some recommendations for other nurses if you want, but – ”

While Maxwell had been speaking, James had picked his pen up again and written something on a slip of paper, which he now wordlessly slid across the desk.

After giving him a curious look, Maxwell picked up the paper and read it. His eyes went wide and he inhaled sharply.

“I trust that'll be sufficient for your needs,” James said.

“Yeah, that's – wow. Wow. That's incredibly generous. Thank you.” He continued to stare at the paper for another few moments before tucking it into the waistband of his scrubs, showing a brief flash of his abdomen. “I'll see you Thursday!”

“Good.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

* * *

He was a very outgoing sort.

It only took a short while for Maxwell to establish a rapport with the rest of the household staff. He was cheerful smiles and boundless energy, the sort of man who'd bring you a cup of your favorite tea for no reason, who was able to strike up a conversation with anyone about anything at any given time. Normally such people irritated James immensely, but Maxwell had such a good nature that it was impossible to dislike him.

As winter settled in, wrapping its cold and snowy arms around the backwoods of his home, the house paradoxically became warmer and more inviting. Because of Maxwell's long commute, after his work was over he would frequently stay a few hours more (“Otherwise the drive there and back is longer than the time I was actually here”, he said). He stayed out of the way, for the most part, until one day James found him sitting in the library, cozying up next to the fireplace.

“Oh,” James said, and Maxwell looked up.

“Oh, hey – hope this is alright,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I wanted to check out your collection.”

“It's fine.” James stood there awkwardly.

“You've got a lot of war books.” He waved the book he was currently reading – The Monuments Men.

“Yes.”

“I couldn't even find any dirty romance novels or anything,” he said jokingly.

James said nothing, just continued to stand there.

Maxwell cleared his throat. “Did you, uh – come in here for something, or...?”

“Er, yes –” He jerked his arm over towards the third shelf on the right. “I need some... cookbooks.”

“Cookbooks? Don't you have a chef?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“...Right.” Maxwell chortled with confusion before tucking his legs underneath him and resuming his reading.

James immediately left the library without getting what he had come there for.

* * *

The night terrors hadn't subsided over time. If anything, they'd gotten worse.

He'd always been a light sleeper, and any noise in the night was liable to send him jolting upright in bed, sweat pouring down his brow and his heart racing so hard that he could feel it in every part of his body, that rapid thumpthumpthumpthump. Sometimes he would wake up already screaming.

It was something of a consolation that he could never remember what he had been dreaming about.

It was also nothing he couldn't manage. He never felt tired during the day and he never became violent in his sleep, like he had heard could sometimes happen. It was more of an annoyance than anything else.

He never bothered explaining to the maids why his sheets tended to be soaked in sweat most mornings. And they never asked.

Occasionally, to calm himself upon waking, John's face would swim before him, and his soothing voice would whisper reassurances in his ear.

“You're fine,” the phantom John would say. “You're alright. You're safe.”

He wasn't safe. But it was still nice to hear.

* * *

James had always prided himself on his self-control, so when he awoke one day to find that the lamp on his bedside table had been flung across the room, his carefully constructed artifice of everything being fine began to show some cracks.

Just an accident, he told himself, picking up the broken pieces with his right hand. I'm hardly the first person to act out their dreams in their sleep.

Still. He would have to monitor the situation closely. If it escalated... well. It wouldn't do to think about that just now.

He didn't tell Maxwell about this during his visit, though a part of him knew that he should. He also hadn't told him about the night terrors – had not, in fact, told anyone at all. He presumed his security team must know, due to the cameras, but they were honoring their contracts and not saying a word.

He could keep it under control. He had always been able to.

“Do you mind if I skip out early today?” Maxwell asked him as they were wrapping up their appointment.

“Do you mean, do I mind if you leave at your scheduled time instead of staying late? Because no, I don't.” It came out sounding colder than he had meant it to.

He blinked, but bounced back fairly quickly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

James, against his better judgment, made an attempt to be somewhat friendly. “Any particular reason why?”

“I've got a date.” Maxwell smirked, and something about that smirk reminded James of John, and he could almost smell the streets of Paris in his nostrils.

“Ah.” He rearranged some items on his desk. “Who's the lucky lady?”

“Man.”

“Sorry?”

“Man. Lucky man.”

He stared at him, before realizing his mouth was slightly agape. He snapped it shut. “Oh.”

“Is that a problem?” Maxwell stared at him defiantly.

“N-no – no, of course not, not at all. It's good... good for you.” He coughed, thumping his fist against his chest.

He relaxed. “It's a blind date. I don't normally do those, but my friends are making me, so.”

“I see.” His stomach was fluttering, which was ridiculous.

No, no. Mustn't think it. No.

* * *

It was one of the worst snow storms James had seen in a long time – though of course, he'd spent much of the last decade in the desert.

It didn't start until most of the staff had gone home – the night security team had their own private quarters on the grounds – but as James was on his way to the kitchen to get some water, he passed by the library and, when he glanced inside, did a double take and stopped in his tracks.

“Bertrand?” Maxwell was draped across one of the chairs, book held loosely in hand, his arm dangling off the armrest. He was snoring quite loudly.

James sighed with irritation and shoved Maxwell's arm. “Bertrand.”

The book fell out of his hand as he woke with a start, doing some sort of karate pose. “Wha – ?” He looked up at James, confused. “Where am I...?”

“You're in my library. What are you still doing here?”

“Oh... oh. Oh, shit.” Maxwell ran his hands over his face and sat up. “How long was I out for?”

“It must have been a while, considering it's 9 pm.” The snow pounded against the windows. “There's a blizzard outside. It won't be safe for you to drive home.”

“Fuck.” He slid down in his seat, looking up at the ceiling as though that were the cause for his current predicament. “I'm so sorry about this. I don't know what happened. One minute I was reading about the Nazi occupation in France, then – ”

“There's a guest wing,” he interrupted. “You can sleep there, if you like. I'll show you to it.”

“Nah, you can just tell me. I'm not going to sleep yet – well, I'm not going back to sleep.” Maxwell stood up and stretched, the muscles in his arms straining. His shirt lifted slightly. “It alright if I hang out in the living room for a while?”

“It's fine. Just please be quiet. The guest wing is on the third floor, the hallway to the left.”

“Thanks. Really sorry about this. It won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn't.” James turn-heeled and left the library.

* * *

He was sitting up in his bed, unable to sleep, when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Hello?”

The door opened, and Maxwell's face peered through. “Am I bothering you?”

Yes. “Do you need something?”

Maxwell took this as an invitation to open the door all the way and step inside, which it hadn't been. James felt a tiny ball of aggravation in his belly. “Man, how can you stand living in this house alone? This place is creepy as hell at night.”

James gave a small shrug. “You get used to it.”

“Well, I don't know about you, but I need some company.” He brandished a DVD. “Please come down and watch this with me. I was in the living room and my voice actually echoed. And I swear I saw a ghost.”

He couldn't help chuckling. His annoyance faded.“I suppose I can humor you.”

Maxwell beamed. “Awesome.”

“What's the movie?” he asked, standing up and feeling self-conscious in his pajamas.

“Seven Samurai. It's one of the only ones I could find that wasn't directly related to the army.”

“Have something against the military? Are you one of those pacifist types?” They set off towards the large spiral staircase at the end of the hall. James walked slightly ahead of him.

“Nah. War's unnecessary most of the time, but I don't have anything against the army itself. But you have so many war movies. Isn't it, like... not good to watch those? Doesn't it trigger you?”

“No, not really.” James coughed. “Have you seen Seven Samurai before?”

“Nope. Is it good?”

“It is. It's also over three hours long.”

“Damn. Looks like we're in for the long haul, huh?” Maxwell clapped him on the shoulder and glided his way gracefully down the stairs.

* * *

There had been a six-pack of beer in the fridge (the chef's, probably), which Maxwell had gladly taken as his own. James stuck to his tap water, and was grateful when Maxwell didn't try to push him into drinking.

Three empty bottles sat on the coffee table while the movie played. As Maxwell opened his fourth, he noticed James' slightly disapproving glance.

“It's been a long week,” he said, in way of explanation.

“Oh?” James fiddled with his glass, which was almost empty.

“Yeah. That blind date was a total bust. And he keeps calling.” He took a long swig. “Trust my friends to set me up with a stage five clinger.”

James made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. As the film continued to play, and Maxwell depleted his beer supply, strangely enough, it was James who found himself becoming more talkative. Perhaps it was the late hour and how tired he was.

“So, your blind date,” he asked before his brain had agreed to say it. “What happened?”

Maxwell looked surprised at the question, and gulped. “Oh, uh – well, for one thing, he started in immediately on how he wanted to have kids and settle down. Kinda intense for a first date. Then he wouldn't shut up about model trains... it was weird.”

“Your friends picked a winner.”

Maxwell laughed. “That they did, that they did.” He grew thoughtful. “I dunno. Maybe it's for the best.”

“What makes you say that?”

He was silent for several moments, before saying, “I basically have, like, a pathological need to try to 'fix' people. It's not really a fun trait to have. I mean, it's one thing to love and care for and help someone, but it's another to just give and give and give and all the other person does is take, y'know? It takes its toll, man. I'm trying to stop doing that. But I always feel like I need some kind of project. And it's fucked up, because I shouldn't be thinking of people as projects, right? I dunno, maybe I just shouldn't be dating at all.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you do that whole... dating thing?”

James let out a puff of laughter and shook his head. “No.”

“Have you ever dated anybody? Sorry. That's not to say I think you're undateable or anything... I don't know what I'm saying. I don't have a filter right now.”

“I've... dated. In the past.”

“Didn't work out?”

“Obviously.”

“Why not?”

James didn't answer, and focused his attention back to the movie, where the samurai were sharing their rice with one of the old villagers. Maxwell accepted his silence on the matter and did not further pursue the subject.

“Anyway,” Maxwell said, “I've been in England for a while but I still feel like I need to get used to how you guys operate. Things are different here.”

“What made you decide to move to England?” James looked back over at him.

“You wanna know the truth?”

He nodded.

Maxwell took a long sip of his beer. “Running away from an ex.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not something I'm proud of, but...” He bit his lower lip in thought. “I mean, it wasn't because he was crazy, or anything. It's just that, everywhere I went, I was reminded of him in some way. I just wanted to escape it, you know? I'd turn the corner, see the sandwich shop we had our second date at... the park where we kissed the first time... it was rough. I couldn't deal with it. So when I got offered a job at the burn unit at Chelsea & Westminster... hard to resist. I always liked London, anyway.”

“Hmm, London. Never much liked the place myself.”

“Yeah, you don't really seem like a city kind of guy.” He chortled, then became serious again. “And... well, another reason was because my mom died. Leukemia.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

His eyes stared vacantly ahead for a few moments before snapping back. “It was a few years ago. But that didn't make the break up easier. I thought leaving would solve my problems... but it didn't. You can run from stuff all you want, but it'll still find you in the end.”

“Wherever you go, there you are,” James said.

Maxwell smiled slowly. “Yeah, exactly.” He took another sip of beer. “The change of scenery was nice, though.”

“You lived in Maryland originally, yes?”

“Yeah. It was a lot warmer than here, that's for sure. What about you? Where are you from?”

James made a vague waving gesture. “Here. I inherited this house.”

“Ah. So your parents are dead, too?”

“Yes. Everyone in my family.” James looked away from Maxwell's sympathetic gaze.

“I'm very sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Yes, well.” It wasn't something he thought about very often, truth be told. Or perhaps it was something he preferred not to dwell on. He drank the last of his water. “I should probably go to bed.”

“Aw, no! The movie's not over yet!”

“You may stay and finish it, if you like. But I have an early start tomorrow and should rest.” He stood up, pulling down at the bottom of his shirt.

Maxwell looked as though he was about to follow him with protest, but seemed to think better of it and stayed where he was. “Alright. But if a ghost comes to get me, it'll be your fault.”

James felt his insides turn to ice as he made a vague nodding gesture and headed back upstairs.

* * *

That night, he dreamt of soldiers lying dead in an open, bare field, and flames licking the side of his face.

The sky was orange, and streaked with purple. Ashes danced in the air. There were no screams, no sound at all. The fire didn't even hurt. It simply was.

Then, suddenly, he could hear the sound of running footsteps in the distance, coming closer. He couldn't move, but he could see. The dirt kicked up, swirled into the sky, and the footsteps drew closer and closer, and James knew it was a dream and knew who was coming and willed himself not to wake, just this once, not to wake before it was over...

“James,” the person said, “James.”

It wasn't John. It was always John, but this time it wasn't. He didn't know who it was. His eyes filled with blood and flame.

His alarm woke him with a piercing beep.

* * *

Because of the cameras, the only place James could have a wank was in the shower. It was an indulgence he tried not to give into too often, but of course it all had to come out at some point.

He was doing so now, leaning against the shower wall, his right hand stroking rhythmically. He normally did not fantasize, preferring instead to focus on sensation, the jolts of pleasure running through his nerves and the blood rushing through his veins. This morning was proving to be an exception, as the previous night's conversation had forced him to recall long-ago memories, ones he tried to keep buried deep inside, locked in a dusty iron box. Thinking about the past could only bring him pain, unnecessary pain.

But still, not all of the memories were bad, particularly the ones where John was fucking him, or he was fucking John, all the different times combined together in his head, almost as though a sort of dreamy montage, and all of the images flashed in his head like a particularly pornographic slideshow, and as he came closer and closer to climax, his back slipping against the wet wall, at the last moment a different picture danced across his eyes, one of Maxwell taking off his clothes and standing before him stark naked –

The thought made him come hard, his limbs shaking.

Oh, this is not good, he thought to himself, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving up and down. The drops of water hit his face like soft marbles. This is not at all good.

* * *

There was only a few more weeks until the new nurse would be brought in. He could make it until then. All he had to do was have as minimal contact with Maxwell as he possibly could.

He wanted him to leave, but the thought of him actually leaving also made him incredibly melancholy. The house just would not feel the same in his absence.

The whole thing was utterly ridiculous, in any case. It wouldn't, and couldn't, happen. But that didn't stop James from behaving as though he were some sort of teenager and Googling him very thoroughly, trying to find all of his social media sites, which was difficult, considering James did not have any of those himself.

One day, feeling like a fool as he did so, he managed to find a blog that was definitely Maxwell's, though it was not linked to him directly and did not state his full name anywhere on the page. It felt slightly unethical, reading this, as though he had found Maxwell's private diary and had cracked the lock, but he was unable to resist.

Hey guys! Just had my 30th birthday yesterday! Damn, I feel old, lol. 30 is when you're officially an adult, right? No more excuses? Gotta start settling down and getting your life together?

If anyone figures out the magical spell to make all of that happen instantly let me know because I still don't have my shit figured out.

Party's this weekend, so hit me up if you want in!!!

He read a few more entries before closing the page. He had to stop before he got in too deep. Sentiment was not a virtue. At least not for someone like him.

* * *

Whenever he would come, his fingers trembling as they stayed wrapped around his cock, there was the initial afterglow, but then shortly after, an unbearable emptiness and desire for something more.

James didn't know how to fill it. He didn't know where to begin. He didn't even know what it was that was missing.

* * *

During another one of Maxwell's visits, he had noted that the scars were healing nicely but James had to take care to apply lotion to them more often, and had attempted to do so himself, his lotion-tipped fingers lightly touching the side of his burned cheek, before James had twitched away and grabbed the bottle back.

Later that night, James booted up his computer and typed in the address for Maxwell's blog. His newest entry read –

A list of things that are Not Good:

falling for your patient ...that's it, that's the list

Haha. Oops.

James stared at the screen for a very, very long time, attempting, and failing, to process or make sense of this.

He must be talking about someone else, he decided, and clicked out of the window.

* * *

He moved the fingers on his right hand, watching the bones and muscles contract and flex. He looked at his left hand, lying uselessly on the table. He willed the fingers to move. Nothing happened.

It was an old exercise he had tried when he was still in the hospital and in denial about what had happened to him. It's easy, he told his hand. You've done it millions of times before. It's old hat. Move. Move. Move.

It never did. It never would.

* * *

It was the last day for much of the staff, Maxwell included. They had not spoken much over the past week or so, which was especially odd for Maxwell. He had even taken to leaving the house on time, instead of reading in the library after their appointments. James was simultaneously anticipating and dreading Maxwell's disappearance from his life and that library.

But he would be fine. Of course he would. He always was. Alone was the best thing for him to be.

Right now he was sitting at his desk in his office. A cough came from the door, and James looked up.

It was Maxwell.

“Well, I'm done for the day,” he said, shifting his feet back and forth. “So I guess this is it.”

“I suppose so.” James was careful not to make eye contact. “You've done a fine job, Bertrand. We're all sorry to see you go.”

“Thanks.” He lingered in the doorway.“Listen, um... I know this is none of my business, but...”

James looked warily at him. “What?”

He seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say. After a moment or two, he did. “Look, I can't even begin to imagine the stuff you've been through. I'm not gonna pretend to really understand that. But... what I can understand is feeling like you're alone. And I can understand feeling like you can get through everything by yourself. But you shouldn't have to. In fact, you can't. No one can get through this life without help. And – don't take this the wrong way – I think you do need some. Help.”

James' muscles tensed as he fell back in his seat.

“I mean, with everything that's happened to you... most people would have fallen apart. And you've been holding it together, but I'm...” He nearly swallowed his words. “I'm worried about you, man. You cut yourself off from everyone and everything. That's no way to live.” Maxwell took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. “So, I asked around, and I think I found someone who you can talk to about everything. I know it's not easy for you to talk to people, but this psychiatrist specializes in veterans with PTSD. She's, like, the top of her field. And she even does house calls, if you need her to, so you won't have to go to the city.”

He gingerly stepped back into the office and placed the business card for the therapist on James' desk. James looked at it, but didn't pick it up.

“I really hope you give it a shot,” Maxwell said. “It doesn't hurt, to have someone to talk to.”

James slid his gaze back up to Maxwell's hopeful face.

“You're right,” he said. “It's none of your business.”

Maxwell pulled back a bit, as though James had just made to punch him. Then, an expression came over his face, one of disappointment and resignation, but not as though he was entirely surprised.

“Okay.” He tapped the card with his index finger before heading back towards the door. “But hold onto it.” He paused at the threshold once again. He took one last look back at him. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

He closed the door quietly.

James waited until he was sure Maxwell was long gone, before picking up the business card. It read, in simple font with a simple design:

DR. AURELIA HASAN VA Psychiatrist

Contact info was typed in a smaller font below. James flipped the card between his fingers. He considered crumpling it, throwing it in the trash, ripping it, throwing it out the window, stomping on it, hiding it somewhere no one would ever be able to find it.

He slipped the card inside his Rolodex instead.

#fandom: sherlock #ship: john/sholto

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