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somedaytakethetime · 11 months

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In the vein of writing my lost chapters of the Old Testament and just.. I don't know ranting about things I'm interested in or on my mind but I try not to bother my friends with because this is uninteresting, I'm using this mess as a personal diary again. After the jump that is, I'm still kind, you know?

So, in case anyone is reading this, which I doubt, and you're unaware I'm nearly 30 and thus lots and lots of introspect are happening lately. One of the things that has been most heavy on my mind is my wardrobe and how I dress. Yes, I know that's vain, but guess what? I'm vain. Also I don't want to look sloppy, I'm technically a grown woman even if I still feel like a child 😭😭

I've been thinking about comfort and practicality, not just trendy stuff that I like the look of but won't ever wear. I'm trying to wear things that make me look decent and possibly if everyone has been drinking even pretty. I've been hyper obsessed with the whole seasonal theory thing, and Kibbe body types, trying to figure out what I actually look like in terms of proportions and colouring, etc. I started years ago, actually, but I've been extra on it lately because I really want to create some sort of capsule wardrobe if you will.

Over the years I've acquired a few nifty talents: my mother taught me how to sew and I taught myself how to pattern draft a few years ago, she also taught me how to cross stitch and embroider, knit and crochet. I improved knitting and crocheting on my own over the years with the help of the internet, and books, and recently I've been trying to teach myself to pattern draft for knitted garments. The concept of drafting a pattern that will fit your body is almost the same in every medium you can use, but knitting up fabric is a tad different than cutting it out so there's a lot more maths, trial and error, involved. BUT with these skills in mind I've essentially gotten to point where I don't need to buy clothes at all, I can make everything I want or need, and embellish it accordingly.

I've narrowed down a few things: I won't ever wear low waisted things again. I lived through the 2000s, we had our 🍑 crack on show from how low waisted those jeans were... I don't ever want a low waist or a mid waist again because I'm only 1,57m (5'2'' I think, if that's your style) and I've convinced myself I have a long waist (I don't even know, the bottom of my ribs are nearly glued to the top of my hips but I still don't think I look short waisted..) so I don't want my legs to look even shorter. I also don't enjoy super tightly fitted clothes anymore. Not a fan of a skinny jean, not a fan of a top that's so tight I can't breathe (been there, done that), not a fan of tight dresses either because I don't love the way my body looks. I don't accessorise a ton anymore, a very simple thin chain necklace or two and very small earrings are the most I do. I have sausage fingers and wearing rings starts to get on my nerves after a while, bracelets are a no go except if I'm dressing up. But for dressing up I still keep things to the minimal of just metal jewellery. I'm not a high heels girl anymore, I'm also not really a ballet flats girl anymore. I prefer a trainer or a loafer because I'm still an old man at heart. Not a huge fan of a ton of ruffles, floof and huge prints anymore. My tops need to be cropped or at least only a fraction longer than waist length, because that's full length on me, everything I wear is high waisted. I sort of hate my legs but I've noticed they actually look better if I wear short skirts and shorts (mid thigh) vs if I wear midi length skirts. I look like a Jehovah's witness.. I think in order to combat that I need to keep the longer skirts to more fancy stuff and just wear short ones for daily wear. Possibly add a low back or a v neck with a long skirt, makes it less Catholic schoolgirl which was my mode of operation before...

As for colours I've noticed that I gravitate towards navy blue and greys a lot more than any other colour. I wear black, brown, jewel tones and even autumnal colours (which makes sense because if I'm doing it correctly I'm a dark autumn) but I tend to like navy blue and grey most. I barely own anything cream, beige or white... I don't look super good in bright white, for me it needs to be off white. Beige, taupe, cream, coffee and latte I can look decent in. Depends on the saturation. And so I need to fix the lack of lighter tones in my wardrobe because spring and summer are also seasons... and I'm not Scandinavian (no shade to their style at all, I take inspiration from them), I'm not super fond of wearing all black in the summer, it's hot as balls here and I would melt outside like that 😭

I've been clearing out my clothes and essentially stockpiling almost everything I own to donate to people that will want it and wear it, because I need to create a lot more things that I will wear instead of just having stuff hanging in my closet. So far I've reviewed some of my clothes, gone through all of my shoes. I need to go through all my accessories and bags, and look over the fix and mend pile of clothes that I have, to see what I actually want to keep and will realistically wear. I prefer trousers for daily wear, I need house clothes that are comfortable, loose and stretchy, and I'll add a few skirts, shorts and maybe a "fancy" dress or two in the mix for a more formal activity I might need to go to. I should probably make some summer dresses, realistically that's the season when I might gravitate towards them most because they're easier and a no brainer outfit. I still think I own too many coats because honestly? In the dead of winter I only really wear my big brown coat. It has a lining that's like... I don't know a skinned teddy bear... I think it's an imitation of sheep wool, at least it looks that way, and it's extra large on me which is perfect for the dozens of layers I wear. I need to dye my denim jacket, I don't like how light it is anymore, it looks dated to me now. I have two old lady oversized blazers, one in a posh 'I go hunting on the weekends' tweed (got it from a family friend and it's probably from like the 90s but I like the look of it) and one in black that I need to fix the length of. I'm keeping these even though I don't wear blazers... I feel like they might come in handy for something that's I might need to look put together for. Got a basic trench that swamps me a little and I'm unsure if I should keep, a grey teddy bear coat that I don't like the length of and I'm wondering if I should shorten it because it would probably get more wear that way, my Nancy Wheeler burgundy jacket (not like her actual jacket but it looks really close to it and I love it, bought it just because of that, it's staying 😤) and a short 80s fur short coat that a friend gifted my mum.. in the 80s. I'm don't support the fur business but I love that coat and I feel bad tossing it knowing animals died for it. There is no such thing as fur recycling or donation stores here, I know the US has things like that but here we don't, so the coat stays where it's been too even if it's a more rare wear for me because I feel like it's so.. over the top. I have a weird hung up on trying not to be too over the top now, I've been that for years.. 😅

I still have beef with my sweater collection. I have LOADS of yarn to knit up a few sweaters in the upcoming months using source images on pinterest (I'll address that in another post) and thus it's making me ponder the sweaters that I already own. I kept quite a few of them after the clear out but I'm still wondering if realistically I'm going to wear them or if I'm just saving them because I've grown attached to them... I barely have any trousers, I mean.. I have a few pairs, but they don't fit properly and I've been so lazy to fix them. I need to fix that in the upcoming months too if I'm going to have clothes to wear. I saved buttons ups and I'm still pondering why I'm saving some of them, two of them are EXTRA LARGE on me, but they belonged to my grandfather, who's died now, and I sort of like that connection to him.. I just need to find a way to style them that won't make me feel sloppy I guess... WHY DO WE CREATE EMOTIONAL BONDS WITH OBJECTS!? WHY??? THIS IS SICK!

Also.. WHY IS THIS ALL SO COMPLICATED ACTUALLY!??!? REALISTICALLY HOW MANY CLOTHES DO I EVEN NEED?? AND HOW MANY SHOES??? WHY DO I OWN SO MUCH CRAP!??!? I WANT TO THROW OUT EVERYTHING I OWN IN RAGE BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I EVEN HAVE SOME OF THIS STUFF!??? CENTURIES AGO PEOPLE OWN LIKED3 TO 5 CHEMISES, 3 OR SO KIRTLES, PROBABLY ONLY 1 OR 2 SURCOATS AND THAT WAS IT! THEY HAD LIKE TWO PAIRS OF SHOES: ONE FOR SPRING AND SUMMER AND ONE FOR AUTUMN AND WINTER!! AND GUESS WHAT?? NO ONE WAS NAKED! I HAVE ONE (1) BODY AND TWO (2) FEET WHY DO I NEED ENOUGH CLOTHES TO DRESS A SMALL VILLAGE!?? I SHOULD JUST MOVE TO A NUDIST COLONY AND LIVE LIKE THAT! EVERYTHING IS BUY BUY BUY 'MUST ITEMS THAT YOU NEED FOR THE SUMMER OF 2023' 'TOP 20 PIECES YOU NEED TO HAVE IN YOUR CLOSET' '25 PIECES A GIRL CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT AND YOU MUST BUY RIGHT NOW' I HATE EVERYONE AND ABOVE ALL I HATE MYSELF. And.. exhale. That's out now. I need to do that one, it was festering in me... ANYWAY! That's the intro I guess, I'll go over inspiration images and plotting in the next post.. whenever the next post happens.. I still have A LOT to clear out and to go over in my wardrobe 😅

#i shall call this:#Sunny takes a deep dive into the world of adulthood dressing #that sounds fancy to my ears i like it i'm pretentious like that #it's just me screaming about clothing and crafts don't worry you're not missing out on anything #Re-writing the Old Testament with Sunny (a modern vain tale)#god i'm such a clown.. i honestly only amuse myself with my crap jokes 😅#wardrobe planning

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tjhinton10 · 11 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Old Navy Men's Thermal-Knit Matching Print One-Piece Pajamas Red XXXL.

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caroline-in-paris · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Old Navy cozy cardigan black M.

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kiljoytrout · 3 years

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Oath of the Cherry Orchard

Based off this illustration by Emily Amiao as well as some details from her animatic The Other Side (check it out on her yt emilyamiao)

Summary: The rebels have won. Now all that's left for Yun on his long list of plans is for him and Elias to sign the sacred oath of the cherry orchard and formally end the war. But when mysterious characters cause familiar screams and snow bleeds red under the cherry trees, it's up to Yun to make some difficult decisions

Word Count: 3.3K

The cherry trees had been dusted in the fine sugar snow of late winter, but now they were covered in the sweet red syrup of fresh blood.

Pointing a gun at the head of his father, who in turn was ready to blow the brains out of the last prince of the Everstied royal family, Yun couldn’t figure out where everything had gone wrong. The subterfuge, the turmoil, he had thought it was all over. The crumbling remains of the Anwei Democratic Party and the prevailing rebels had come to the sacred cherry orchard, the place where Anwei was first woven together, in order to make an oath of peace, to stop the bloodshed that had torn the nation at its seams. Yun had known the possibility of treachery, expected it even, but not even his meticulous planning and preparation prepared him for what had occurred.

Elias had always been slightly apprehensive about the oath.

“ You’re certain the orchard is secure?”, he had asked earlier, for what was likely the hundredth time since the ceasefire.

“ For the last time, it is!”, groaned Yun, tossing a hair ribbon to Elias before taking a glance back at his uniformed self in the mirror.

It was indeed, for Yun had thought of absolutely everything: sniper in the peach grove, weapons check at the old Capitol entrance, dubious area patrol dismissed. Yun was an expert in pointing out the fatal chinks in his opponent’s armor, the weak spot that guaranteed victory, and there was nothing of the sort in his own. Or so he had thought.

When they had arrived at the cherry orchard, the diplomats from the ADP weren’t there yet. Elias raised his eyebrows at this, but Yun shrugged it off. Unlike Elias, he wasn’t used to people being at his beck and call; at any rate the delay gave him time to strategize terms for the closing treaty, which traditionally occurred after the ceremonial peace oath. Elias started squinting at the distance, shaking his head slightly to himself, before looking again at absolutely nothing. After about thirty seconds of this, Yun started to get irritated.

“Cool it, Elias. The trains from the old Capitol are practically snails with windows, it's no wonder they’re late.”

“ There they are, coming through the peach grove”, Elias responded, pointing to where Yun could now barely see the shadowy bulks of three figures walking through the garden towards them.

The two of them with thuggish bodyguard builds were lugging the sacred scrolls needed for the oath towards them. The man in the middle was taller, with an imposing stature that clearly defined him as the person who people would bow down to and the person who expected it. Yet, he had a cold crookedness to his features that was strikingly familiar. Elias blinked, rubbing his eyes before voicing what Yun had already figured out.

“ That’s-”

“Yes”

Yun knew that he couldn’t harm him, that the old Capitol had been purged of weapons and that the sniper were waiting at the only other entrance in the garden to institute peace by any means necessary. But even if every rifle in Anwei was at his disposal, he didn’t think he’d ever feel completely safe from him, the man who now faced them, sacred scrolls in hand.

“Son”

“ Father”

Both spat the words with so much venom that a string of obscenities would have been a more welcoming greeting. After a few seconds of tense staring (which took Elias jamming his riding boot into Yun’s shoddy shoe to dispel), his father sighed and looked up at the cherry trees, sweet red drops sprinkled with snow.

“Now that your insurrectionists are done tearing up the country it's about time to institute some peace.”

Yun snorted. Only his father could make the rebel’s historic takeover sound like a victory for the ADP.

“ How was your trip?”, asked Elias, his tone dripping with the polite contempt required by his princely position.

“ Rather taxing, but I’m sure it was necessary”

“I take it you didn’t appreciate the weapon screenings?”

The two guards knit their eyebrows in confusion at this, but Yun’s father took it in stride.

“ Seemed rather out of place for a diplomatic meeting, but then again my son has always liked his smoke and mirrors. Shall we get on to business?” he said.

“Sure.”

Yun stepped forward, shaking snow off the shoulders of his navy jacket. He extended his frostbitten hand, not trembling a bit in the bitter cold because it was all finally over; his struggles with his father, the arduous battles to take back Anwei, they were all as hollow as cherry trees in the dead of winter. His father’s sneer twisted itself into a satisfied smile as he reached out his hand-

“Yun.”

Yun glanced sideways, but Elias wasn’t there anymore. Instead he was moving closer to the ADP guards, fingers fluttering at the edge of his now empty sword sheath like they always did when he was about to fight.

“Yes?”

Gaze never breaking away from the ADP, Elias continued “ What direction is the old Capitol entrance to the orchard?”

“ East”

“And where did our friends here just enter the orchard from?”

“From the Peach Grove in the -”

Yun stopped short.

“West.”

They had been tricked. No wonder the guards had looked so confused about the screenings, somehow they had bypassed them entirely. But what about the snipers in the Peach Grove and the Pear Garden? Wouldn’t they have sent a message that the ADP was sneaking in another way? Then Yun saw the barely discernible muzzle of a blackmarket gun poking out from between the holy scrolls, and he knew what had happened. For a single moment, nobody spoke, instead flaying each other's eyes, for any remaining sense of humanity, dignity, and civil peace to stop what was inevitable.

The guard on the left reached for the scroll. Whether it was to grab the gun or to pass the oath, Yun would never know, because Elias reached into his elaborate hairdo, whipped out three silver bladed throwing stars, each with the ornate gold accents of the Eversteid crest, and sent the first one ripping straight through the guard’s throat. Any other time Yun would have balked at the failure of his no-weapons plan on two levels, but sudden death appeared to be the ultimate catalyst to snapping out of it.

The resulting scuffle happened so fast that Yun could barely keep track of what he was doing let alone everyone else. The second guard had stooped to the ground in a futile effort to revive his cohort while Yun’s father rushed Elias, who was now swinging five throwing stars at an arm's length. Just when Yun absorbed what had happened, the second guard, thirsty for vengeance of any kind, picked up the gun that had spilled out of the scrolls and aimed it right at him. Yun dove out of the way, just as the first bullet whistled over his head, with a silencer so quiet, he could have missed the sound of gunfire in the falling snow. He scurried over to where a second gun had fallen from the scrolls, feeling it's cold metallic barrel freeze his fingertips, before hastily emerging from the underbrush to confront the second guard.

But the second guard and Yun’s father were several feet away, next to the struggling form of Elias, who the guard had tackled to the ground. His long lavender hair was fanned out behind him, and his treasure trove of throwing stars had been tossed into the snow.

“That one certainly gave us some trouble”, said Yun’s father as he plucked a late cherry off of a tree, the red juice running down his chin as he bit it.

“ That’s for sure. What about the other one?” the second guard replied, binding Elias’s hands with rope, as the latter yelled obscenities muffled by the heel of the guard’s boot.

“My good for nothing son is probably hiding like a coward in one of the other orchards. We’ll find him soon enough”

“Those traitors better pay for what they did to Kierek”, the second guard said, nodding towards the corpse of the first guard, Eversteid throwing star still in his throat.

“ We can take care of this one soon, and my son will be captured and sentenced once we reinstitute order”

“The orders were to kill them bo-”

“I said he will be captured. Do you understand?”

The second guard nodded, noting the violent gleam in his boss’s eyes.

“ But this one has no other use. The royals are too pigheaded to ever give up any information and we don’t have the time for a public execution.” said Yun’s father, spitting out the cherry pit.

“Dispose of him,”

The guard raised the gun to Elias’s head; Yun burst from the bushes and sprinted as fast as he could. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in his chest, he was going so fast that the snow fall had become an endless tunnel of white, with Elias at its center. The guard had no chance. Yun plowed through him like a meteor, driving him straight into the snow bank and knocking the gun out of his hands. Yun turned around to free Elias, but standing in his way was the crooked man who had made his life a series of slanting scowls and stolen smiles.

“Don’t you dare”,

his father snarled, the third gun cocked at his side, and his foot on a gasping Elias, who he had given a brutal kick in the ribs.

“Let him go!”

Yun had meant to sound intimidating but in the icy cold his voice thinned out to little more than a squeak, prompting a smirk from his father.

“Such big talk from a greasy little nobody. Just stand around waving that toy some more and we can wait until Roklin comes out of the snowbank and captures you.“

His father was where Yun got his ability to spot weak spots. And Yun’s father had always known exactly where his son’s were.

“We both know you’re really not going to do anything. Even when you were little you were always loudmouth with no spine, crying for mommy, so why don’t you-”

While Yun’s weak spots may have been the same as when he was younger, his temper was twice as short. He rushed his father, blood pounding in his ears, but stumbled on a stray root before faceplanting right back onto the snowy ground. He heard the crack before he felt the pain pumping through his broken nose. The brackish tears came instantly as did his father’s wolfish laughter, hoarsely echoing dead wood.

Amidst the relentless pounding in his head and nose, Yun’s foot kicked aside the stray root that had caused his bloody humiliation. A rather metallic stray root. Yun jolted up, reeling as he snatched Roklin’s half buried pistol from the snow and pointed it straight at his father.

“You wouldn’t have the guts,” scoffed his father, aiming his own firearm at the temple of a wheezing Elias.

Click. Yun cocked the gun.

A moment of silence. The cold wind whipped Yun’s bloody, tearstained face; snowflakes melted in his loose, dark hair; his earring, a miniature rebel flag, waved back and forth in the bitter breeze. He couldn’t be that boy, could he? The one holding a gun to his father? The one who had to make a shot that would haunt him for the rest of his days? No. In that moment Yun was nothing but a cherry tree: frosted with snow, watered with blood, and staunchly rooted in a history that would never be chopped down.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this”

Right as he pulled the trigger, a steel wall slammed into him. Smothered under the heavy armor of the second guard, who had managed to pull himself up from the snowbank, Yun extricated himself just in time to hear the dull thud of a bullet meeting flesh. But the low canine howl that Yun had steeled himself for never came. Instead, a sharp, shocked cry, that could only come from one person.

When he was five, Yun and his friends were running around in the grass, when one of them fell and cut their knee on a jagged rock. The world seemed to separate into colors at that moment : the treacherous gray of the rock, an eggshell pale face of shock, and of course, the crimson that had stained the grass below their feet. The injured child was quickly escorted back home by their guardian, where their sobs were staunched with a piece of candy. But Yun couldn’t stop crying. He had felt no physical pain, his skin was intact, his blood was unspilt, but he had seen all of that and more in his friend’s eyes, the fire, the horror, of being at one moment whole and the next moment not, that Yun had felt it more acutely then if the wound were his own. If that was bad, then seeing Elias, prostrate on the snowy ground of the cherry orchard, a red sea flowing out of the gorey hole in his shin, was a thousand times worse.

Spooked, his father lunged aside, just in time to collide with the second guard, who charged past him through the orchard with seemingly endless adrenaline, his icy obligation to his commander melting away to wet fear.

“ Elias!” screamed Yun, running over to him, ripping off his own uniform jacket and wrapping it around Elias’s leg in a desperate attempt to staunch the gushing blood that poured forth like the pulsing rivers of Anwei. Elias’s face had the same shock as the boy from Yun’s childhood, but so much paler, and with every second he resembled more and more a sculpture made from the snow he was dying on. “Hold on hold on hold on” Yun hiccuped, tying the makeshift tourniquet as tight as he could. Tears blurred his vision, but in the periphery he saw a crooked man gathering the torn scrolls of peace from the ground.

The sight made Yun forget all about Elias and he dropped the tourniquet, concentrating all of his drained energy into raising his blood splattered pistol at the back of his fleeing father. Before he could pull the trigger, his target turned around, but instead of booking it out of the orchard, raised his arms in a scorching surrender.

C’mon just do it, just do it, just do it, Yun thought, Prove him wrong just this once. But his steely self commands froze at his finger, which remained entrenched at the top of the trigger, refusing to push down. Amidst his rancid rage, exhausted adrenaline, and salty tears, he knew one glimmering truth. If Yun pulled that trigger, the last remains of his energy would be spent, and he would collapse into the snow next to a wounded Elias. They would die, they would disappear under the earth, and they would be cherry trees half dead in winter, embracing branches, bleeding fruit, screaming snow.

But Yun always had a plan, and even when he didn’t, the end goal was always the same.

Elias.

Yun would never give him up, even as acid burned through his veins when he pried his frostbitten fingers from the bloody pistol and dropped it into the snowbank, even when his father slinked off through the peach garden with an unreadable expression on his crooked, familiar face, even when he realized how far away the orchard gates were and how he had ordered the night patrol to stay away for his goddamn security measures; no matter how beautiful it was, the cherry orchard would never take Elias as long as Yun could still trick his paper form into the softest pulse of life.

Slippery warm blood, bone breaking cold, rotten raw heart; that was all he could remember for weeks afterward. Mia, Elias’s little sister, and her girlfriend Celine visited him at the hospital everyday, trying to coax him into revealing how a simple peace oath led to all of this. They told him that he was a hero, that he had half-carried, half-dragged Elias past the orchard gates, that a little girl had found them collapsed near her swing set, more dead than alive. But the only question he ever wanted an answer to was always met with avoided glances, shaking heads, and uncertain words. Lost a lot of blood, infected wound, critical condition.

But after a lot of begging, bribing, and borderline blackmailing, Yun was finally allowed a brief visit. The doctor took him down an endless fluorescent corridor, stopping in front of a room with a rusty sign reading Post Operation.

“Only ten minutes!” chirped the nurse as she opened the creaking door, and bolted away, green tea pipe in hand for a smoke break.

Yun crashed into the room, but stopped short when he saw Elias, wrapped in a thin blanket on a too small cot, where he could see a single sock-covered foot hanging off the end. The patient, on seeing him, gave a slight smile, and tried to raise himself up to sitting position.

“Let me” said Yun, walking over to the bed, fluffing and stacking the pillows for a head rest as he observed the tinctures and bandages littering the dinky nightstand.

Among them was a pamphlet emblazoned in cheerful yellow with: Adjusting to Your Amputation. Yun snapped his head back towards Elias, who averted his gaze towards the end of the bed. Without asking for permission, Yun yanked the blanket off the cot, exposing next to a bandaged and blistered leg, a stitched up stump connected to a polished wooden crutch.

“ They’re putting a more refined one in next week. I’ll need to use a wheelchair at first, but after some time I can adjust to a cane.”

The guilt took a second to set in, but when it did, Yun wanted to submerge himself in the oiliest, blackest sea and never come out.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,”

“Why are you crying? I’m the one with the botched leg,” said Elias, the amused tilt to his statement falling flat when he saw Yun’s crushed expression.

“Oh my god, this is my fault, I can’t believe I shot you, I should have aimed better, I should have shot him faster, oh my god, oh my-”

“Hey, HEY!”, said Elias, grabbing Yun’s flailing hands with the reflexes of an ace swordsman.

“Look at me. Look at me. You got me out of there. It’s like I used to tell my sister whenever she messed up at something: whatever mistakes made back there are dead, but you aren’t. It's going to be an uphill battle from here and I need you supporting me, not blaming yourself.”

Yun nodded.

“Okay?”

“Okay”

“Now come over here and tell me about the new siege on the Old Capitol. But first close the door. If that horrid nurse comes back here stinking of burnt tea again, I’m breaking out my sword, prosthetic or not.”

At this, Yun’s tears finally dried into loud snickering; Elias chimed in with some decidedly non-aristocratic chuckles. This continued until the nurse in question barged back into the room, smoke curling from her nostrils as she demanded they keep it down. Yun and Elias practically roared with laughter; a loving crack of relief as deadwood came back to life.

#emilyamiaOC #fantasy #romance #my writing #purple prose #cherry orchard #not my art #not going to lie I thought this was the best thing I ever wrote but reading it now is kinda cringe

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iscribble · 3 years

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pairing | youtuber!renjun x student!reader genre(s) | fluff, slice of life, strangers to potential lovers, college au word count | 1.8k summary | you’re always the type to be punctual, so it takes you by surprise that you’re willing to give up your time for something else - someone else, rather; a stranger. author’s note | havent written in so long that i just had to put something out there. im really sorry for being so inactive! :(

An extended but lonely crack slithers down the bathroom mirror, grazing your reflection on the glass that is opaque with moisture. Through the corner of your eye you perceive one-fourth of the aged, spreading tree outside your apartment whenever the old creaking door swings open with the wind. The quiet—but prominent—plop of the water that leaks through the apertures on the pipe hits your ears, and it is only after a while that you find it fills the little space between your toe and the tip of your shoe. The leak doesn’t bother you though. Neither does the crack, nor the random wind gusts. A yellow lip balm bounces in your palm, cap greasy from applying too much on your finger. You would exchange a mere lip balm for a heat pack, but you put it on anyway. The harsh cracks on your lips are now tucked away underneath a tacky layer of cream, and you find it amusing how easily it wears away.

You are late, for the first time in months. Nothing really bothers you as much as glancing at the clock and seeing its hands where you least expect them to be.

In your defense, it was an afternoon class. You don’t usually have afternoon classes unless your professor needs to reschedule, which, inevitably, resets your agenda for the rest of the day. You, on the other hand, are not used to rescheduling. So when you can’t feel the warm shaft of sunlight skim across your eyelids, instead, only the feeling of cold air brushing past your skin and the faint sound of your alarm, you jolt awake, guilty of sleeping in. You try not blame yourself though—this doesn’t happen everyday and you are still not used to it.

The station is disposed with a boring facade and a duller interior. The giant vintage clock shows 15:18. The three seater bench still holds too many people. There is that man with the navy-coloured down jacket behind the counter, uninterested in the regulars who flock to their respective platforms. These are the same sequences, the same faces, like people are helpless boats going with the current. You scrunch up your nose, admitting you are one of them too.

You make your way inside the train, opting to sit near no one else. It takes a while for you to settle down, but when you do, you catch someone looking at you. Harbor gray coat, brown hair, black mask. You don’t recognise him anywhere on campus. You think maybe he attends one of the afternoon classes, but you don’t assume further.

15:29.

You leave the train with a spring in your step, but not out of enthusiasm. The familiar crisp white frontage of the building comes into view, your heart skipping a beat as you think of the worst that could happen upon stepping inside the lecture hall. One strap of your tote slides down your shoulder, and just as you are about to pick it up, the other strap goes loose and drags your bag down with it. A couple of coloured pens roll out, you grumble to yourself and crouch down to stop them from rolling any farther. You fail at this, when you turn around to pick up a blue pen and realise that someone else beat you to it. The stranger from the train.

“Got it,” he chuckles, and you feel embarrassed. He returns your pen, but his eyes don’t stop at your hands. His gaze lowers a short distance, you’re almost sure he’s looking at the brick road beneath you, but you’re not really sure why. When you stand back up he vaguely shakes his head, like he’s been thinking about something else, but you don’t miss it.

“Thank you,” you say, too fast that it almost sounds insolent.

“Don’t worry about it,” he returns with a smile behind his mask. “I’m Renjun, by the way.” He extends his hand for you to shake. What’s he doing? Why's he acting like he’s about to proceed with an interview or something?

You learn that he really does want to “interview” you. “I’m a youtuber,” he informs. It is only then that you realise someone else is standing behind him, occupied with a camera.

“Oh,” you eventually reply, but nothing else. He waits for the typical “that’s cool!” but you are too quiet, Renjun can practically hear someone making a fuss about her peppermint hot chocolate being too hot in the distance. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? It’s for a youtube video.” He speaks up. You say nothing at first. Your fingers that hide underneath the rib-knit cuff curl into a ball. You feel the crack that litters your lower lip flaunt itself, the thick lip balm that conceals it long gone. You seem even more conscious of your worn out shoes that somehow feel damper than they already are. Putting your weight on one leg, you try your best to decline him in the most mannerly way possible.

“I’m really sorry but I’m actually late to class.”

You can’t see his smile but you know it falters. His glasses droop a little, you see the red marks on the bridge of his nose. “I see.” Is all he says. He looks back at his friend and shrugs. “Thank you, anyways.” Your stomach churns. You don’t want to be the reason he leaves empty handed, yet he is leaving, empty handed and all. Somehow, your concern for punctuality slowly withers away.

“No, wait,” you catch his fingers just before he turns the other way. He winces. Not because of the sudden swell of your voice, but because your hands are a little too cold. You steal a glance at the watch on your wrist. 15:32. Renjun finds your eyes. He doesn’t say it, that your hands are too cold, but he takes them in his own, warming them up. Strangely enough, your whole body heats up at the gesture.

“Class can wait, whatever. What’d you want to ask me?”

Renjun’s eyes all but light up. He signals for his friend to start filming. “Alright, a few questions about college, I’m going to try and guess your major.”

“Oh, that’s new,” you raise an eyebrow. “Did you come up with the idea?”

“Nah,” Renjun laughs, he brings up a hand to push his hair back. “Just following a trend.”

15:33. You nod. “Alright, go on.”

You notice a few things about Renjun. The way he speaks, like you’ve known each other for a long time. The way his hair isn’t exactly brown, rather russet, a little red. When you look closer into his eyes, you see they match his hair. You wish you could see his lips, see if they’re as cracked as yours, if he puts lip balm on a little too much, but the black mask he wears that almost reaches his eyes tells you it’s too early for that. Perhaps, if he lowers the article just a few inches, you’ll understand that the circles beneath his eyes mean that he’s equally as tired as you. He asks you questions, not rushed, and though you are definitely late to class, you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore.

“Might have an idea,” he looks to the camera tentatively, then back to you. “Chemistry?”

“You’re good,” your compliment reaches his ears. “How’d you guess?”

Renjun punches the air in glee as if he won the lottery. “Honestly, couldn’t get a single clue from what you said. But I saw your Analytical Chemistry book peeking out from your tote when it fell.”

“Whoops, my bad.” You share a laugh.

“And as a thank you for the—” he scrutinizes his watch, “—five minutes I just took from your time, this is for you.” A heat pack. You didn’t know how much you needed one until your hands reach for the item almost immediately.

15:38. You squeeze the pad as heat begins to radiate from it. Renjun’s friend lowers the camera as soon as you’re done filming, and it is then that Renjun seems like he has something else on his mind.

“Uhm,” he half-whispers. You look at him, confused. “Your shoes.”

You know what he means. Your shoes leave ambiguous trails of dirt, just slightly. Renjun notices it though. Your shoes are rather soggy, like they were deliberately dipped in water. Traces of soil scatter the outsole, centimetres up and you’ll see a small patch of fabric, sewn on to cover the hole that’s exposing your toes. You tremble slightly, bringing your right foot behind your left in an attempt to hide it from him. No one has ever pointed it out.

“Oh. They’re old, but, they work.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he scoffs lightly. “Let me buy you new ones.”

“No.” You realise that comes out too abruptly. “Please, that’s really unnecessary.”

15:39.

“You’re late to class,” he reasons with you. “At least let me make it up to you.” The obscure rift on your bottom lip bleeds a little. You like to bite it whenever you feel nervous. Renjun reaches for his phone in the pocket of his ivory trousers and hands it to you.

“We can go over the details through text,” he subtly looks at his friend, wanting to know if the gesture is okay. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

15:40. You give in. Your fingers are stiff—you realise you’re giving your number to a stranger, so you take some time to secretly ponder over the situation, although you hate to admit Renjun feels more like a new friend. He sends you a message once you give him his phone back just to make sure you get his number.

“Thank you,” you smile at him. “That’s really kind of you.”

15:41.

You hesitate before a hand comes up to wave at him and his friend, though the heat pack is still crushed between your fingers. Renjun pulls his mask down for the first time, and it would be weird to say you were waiting for it. For his smile. You can perceive through the white fabric whenever it shifts that he is smiling underneath there, but now it’s irrefutable, the evidence that he actually is smiling, and you’re glad that’s the last thing you see before the customary sight moulds into view, once again.

If someone had told you this morning that you’d be willing to sacrifice your punctuality for a stranger, you’d knock some sense into them. But as you stand before the doors to the lecture hall, phone in your grip as you stare at the cerulean waters you fancy as your lock screen, no, rather, the notification that overlays it “let me know when you’re in class, i feel responsible lol”, the unusual feeling that blooms inside your chest reminds you that you could live a little less orderly and a little more self-willed.

15:43.

You’re thirteen minutes late. Though now, nothing really bothers you as much as not being able to concentrate in class because he’s all you can think about.

116 notes · View notes

hereisleo · 4 years

Text

stardust in our veins/

w/ s.mg x reader

g/ college!au, fluff, budding romance

w.count/ 2814

a.n/ in which upcoming astrophysicist and model song mingi is in a dilemma over the soon to be love of his life. a part of ‘back to school’ writing event with @kpopscape

t.w/ swearing

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

Well, fuck. Mingi thinks his luck is the worst. The one time he needed the universe to make sense of course it wouldn’t. Then again turning to his astrophysics texts for guidance in the matter of love is the wrong place to start. Love doesn’t make sense like the universe, much of it still undiscovered and will continue to remain so. There’s only so much humans can learn and that by no means is little. He’s simply too finite to understand all the ways the universe has to offer. The perks of being mortal in his opinion.

His phone lights up, a notification appears on his screen. Don’t be late, Min! Right, he has to model for his friend tonight. He sends a quick confirmation text, a little cute onomatopoeia of ‘ang!’ Out of place with his stoic exterior yet that’s how he is, best of both worlds. Mathematics and astrophysics. Fashion industry and music. He could make it anywhere he wants to be. Mingi is confident in himself, he knows he has most of the skills set required to pursue all of his dream occupations. So he straightens the loose pages of a printed pdf file and tuck them into its folder. He could buy the textbooks but why would he do that? He likes to eat the rich so to speak. All his earnings go to tuition and he would live smartly to make it through another year.

The chair squeaks in the quiet library and he winces, slightly apologetic at the flinches from students studying in the library. He doesn’t dwell much in it, he slings his back over his shoulder and pushes his chair in, lifting it a touch to prevent the grating noise. He nods at the librarian and mouths his, ‘bye.’ And it’s just him and his little kidney beans, AirPods, pumping music into his ears. He makes his way around the ground, weaving through passing students going to different classes, the stares he receives are not foreign. He’s used to it. He’s always a head and some more taller than the average or maybe it’s his clothes or his colourful hair or the way he carries himself is out of place within the Department of Astrophysics. Mingi looks like someone from the Department of Arts. A fashion or music student. Some would say he’s here because of an athletic scholarship. He is simply exercising his freedom to wear whatever he wants.

Sik-K’s “Habibi” starts playing and he mumbles his curses, a love and hate relationship he has with his playlist. He just managed to distract himself from thinking about love and here he is, back to wallow in his one-sided pining. Pitiful. You’re pathetic, Song Mingi. His strides languidly back to his shared apartment, not too far off from campus, he could take the car but he likes to walk when the weather is nice. He wonders when did he begin liking you. The first time he sees you is in the Arts building when you were fitting his feline-like friend into a stage costume. He thinks he fell for how your brow knits together in concentration as your fingers deftly repaired loose embellishment of pearls on the velvet suit jacket. He vividly recalls how inky the fabric was, similar to the sky that night, Mars was visible from the big window at the fashion studio. He would catch glimpses of you here and there and because of that, his visits to the Arts building increased. His friends caught on immediately and they wouldn’t live it down.

Before he knows it, he’s already punching the security codes on his door. A happy greeting of his name falls short with an amused laugh. Even his best friend could tell, he’s wallowing in his feelings. Mingi whines, kicking his shoes off before unceremoniously taking all the space on the couch. Good thing his playlist has come to its end, he takes out the little kidney beans from his ears and let it rest on the coffee table.

“Love doesn’t make sense, Yunho,” he groans, burying his face against the giant brown bear plushie. A hand pats his head, “Love doesn’t make sense and so does the universe yet you love them the same.” Mingi thinks Yunho has been skimming through his astrophysics texts but highly unlikely, Yunho doesn’t enjoy reading. He sighs and nuzzles deeper into the belly of the soft toy. Hell, he much rather snuggle with you but alas you’re a distant star out of his reach. He could only see you behind the lenses of his telescope. He will make do with the bear and his friends for now. He likes being alone, he likes his space but he hates the feeling of loneliness that comes out to play every once in a while. More often now since he has you to pin over. His friends could only do so much for him.

Fuck you, Kim Hongjoong. Mingi keeps his head low and skirts around the photographer. You. He isn’t not aware you’ll be shooting him today, figuratively and literally. Yeosang has a shit eating grin on his face when Mingi sits on the chair to get his makeup done. “Not a word, Yeosang,” he mumbles and the grin widens. His friend only wipes his face clean before starting off with a quick skincare. He’s used to this, the gentle toner in white and blue packaging and the light cream patted into his skin. His friend went the length to purchase them specifically for him. He keeps his eyes trained on the mirror, tracking your movements all over the studio, talking to Hongjoong, toying with the navy and silver camera strap. He remembers buying the strap for Jongho when the old one was too worn out for use. It reminds him of the starry sky and it’s now in your hold. He bites his lip, it shouldn’t feel intimate yet here he is almost astral projecting because it feels as if you are holding part of his universe. Stop it, Mingi!

His pseudo makeup artist taps his abused lip with a warning tut, a red stain is smudged lightly before a clear gloss is patted over them so it doesn’t dry out his lips. Yeosang always scolds him for having chapped lips and this time Mingi sports dark smokey eyes, he could see hints of burgundy mixed into the brown shadows. Yeosang gives him a wink before sending him off to change. Hongjoong is a genius for designing outfits and he’s honoured to be one of the models walking in it. He wishes nothing but the best for the clothing line launch to be successful but he would be lying if he doesn’t want to wipe the smirk off the designer’s face right now.

Your fingers graze the skin of his back, his shoulders tensed and he presses his lips together to prevent any noise from escaping his mouth. Fuck this shoot. You’re just pinning his jeans because it’s slightly too big. Mingi wants to run home into the comfort of his bed and screams. Your radiating body heat is so warm and perhaps this is as close as he would ever to touch you, the human embodiment of the universe. He shouldn’t be this hypersensitive yet here he is flustered beyond his imagination. His lungs feel like they are collapsing. You are the 3-degree temperature difference in intergalactic space he learned about. His body couldn’t manage to reach equilibrium. Being around you makes his blood cells want to burst, the lack of atmospheric pressure puts a dizzy spell on him. Mingi thinks you’re an amazing being like the supercharged subatomic particles travelling almost just as fast as the speed of light. There’s only 0.1% difference. Magnificent.

Hongjoong and Yeosang smirk at his struggles. They are no strangers to his ‘internally screaming’ countenance. Mingi would have book it if they let him suffer any longer. He takes one look into the mirror, the long leather coat adds some invisible height to him, he appears taller than he already is and the chunky ribbed turtleneck accentuate his long neck. He glances over to the few more pieces hanging on the rack. Hongjoong kills it with the A/W capsule collection. He couldn’t wait to get into the patchwork trench coat and the purple overshirt that catches his attention since the prototype era. The universe has expanded further into infinity since then.

A gentle call of his name and the barely there touch on his back jolts him out of his reverie, eyes boring into yours almost bewitched. Your hand is right over where his birthmark is hidden under the layers of fabrics. “Mingi?” Your voice. Damnit, it’s so soft to his ears and the way his name rolls off your tongue raises the hairs on his arms. He dazedly hums in response, “Yes, stars?” The composition of a human being is as old as the universe itself, there are stardust running in the veins of mortals. He sees the brightest stars in your eyes. He doesn’t realise what he just called you, the term of endearment he refers you as in his head slips out to be immortalised. Sound waves travel into space and beyond, he can’t take back what he said. Your cheek is hot under his fingertips, in moments of bravery or stupidity, Mingi manages to string together a sentence, “Let’s take some pictures shall we?”

Bless Hongjoong for hooking up the music. He would run away if Taemin’s “Criminal” didn’t start playing. Don’t explode now. One more step to the front of the red backdrop. What foolish action did he do? How did he have the courage to talk to you and more over actually feel your skin under his fingers? He wants to scream and curl up on the floor. I did not just do that! Yeosang gives him a thumbs up for the corner of the studio. Thank heavens for his friends. He lets the electronic beats fill him and he loses himself in the act. His friends once told him, he’s a good actor. Now is the time for him to maximise the skill. A teasing drag of his bottom lip between his teeth, the smouldering gaze as he pierces through the camera lens straight at you just as the lyrics spews, ‘Destroy me more.’ Two can play this game and Mingi finds it relieving to find he’s not the one who is affected. It doesn’t quite make sense to you how he likes you and it doesn’t quite make sense to him how you like him. He’s not built for chasing love but now he knows you do have an interest in him, he takes the liberty to pursue it. He wouldn’t pour his love onto you yet. He has class and he’s not going to do anything that might spook you. Yes, he acts like an idiot sometimes but he’s not an idiot. He wants to make sure if you really have taken a liking of him or if he’s merely a passing interest. He doesn’t like getting hurt.

One wardrobe change and then two, the playlist continuous on, the hours blurred together. Mingi is in his last outfit, lying on the brown leather couch covered with colourful rugs and you’re hovering over him with the DSLR. He gives you, no, he means the camera, his best smirk and provocative lift of his eyebrow. From the corner of his eyes, Yeosang and Hongjoong are curling into each other to stifle bubbling laughter while monitoring all the shots appearing on the computer. The addictive riff of “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer has him unbuttoning the purple overshirt. His friends are slapping each other and he hears you take sharp intake of breath. He is enjoying this way too much and he might as well. If he’s going to explode now is the time. Before the night ends, before the sky lightens, he would explode like a supernova, powerful and bright enough for its light to glow for more than a week. It’s rather selfish of him to make himself linger in your mind in a rather unorthodox fashion but he couldn’t help it, the opportunity is there for the taking. At some point the two nuclei would collide to create a new element, Mingi hopes it’s his and yours.

The following day Mingi wakes up to a series of texts in the group chat. The sheer amount of caps lock yelling are not anything new so he didn’t check it yet. He raises his arms and lets his muscles sing with the stretch. His feet kiss the cool floor and he makes his way out to do his day off routine. “Morning, Yunho,” he greets, his voice still rough from sleep, it sounds deeper even to his own ears. He hears his roommate rustling about in the living room and feet padding hurriedly to his direction, “Afternoon already, Min! And you can’t say that nonchalantly after what you did last night! You didn’t tell me this!” What did he do last night? Ah, right! He was modelling for Hongjoong, saw you and flirted with you indirectly through the camera lens. Yunho shoves his phone in front of him.

An A-cut photograph from the shoot is attached in the chat by Hongjoong. He was in the half open purple overshirt and sunglasses hanging between his teeth, glaring straight at whoever is looking at the picture. Consecutive texts from his friend group are under it, nothing but praises and Yunho is always first to compliment him. My best friend right there! Following the trail of text bubbles, he finds a short video. He presses the play button and immediately blushes, hiding his face in his hands with an exasperated sound. Last night model Mingi was brave enough to reach for the camera. In fact, he reached past it and cradled your cheek in his palm. “It was for the shoot!” Yunho pockets his phone. “Mingi. You eye fucked the camera through and through. In fact, it’s not the camera, it’s your ‘stars’.” The mirth in Yunho’s voice is enough to draw another whine from him. He couldn’t find fault in his best friend’s statement.

He has to go back in again today and how is he supposed to face you? I should call in sick. Yet with that thought he still works the coffee machine, his body moving rotely and his friend sidles next to him to help him with lunch. He could still sense the excitement radiating from the puppy-like man. An avocado toast later, Mingi is sent out with a cheery, “Have fun!” The little kidney beans are back in his ears, a mellow summer song soothes his pounding heart. The moon peeks between buildings as if to tell him it’s rooting for him. In such an aspect, he thanked the pile of regolith and dead volcanoes hanging in space.

His takes longer strides to the campus ground, arriving earlier than expected, his body understands the excited energy simmering under his skin. To see you standing in front of the Arts building entrance sparks something in him. Don’t do or say anything weird, Mingi. He breaks into a jog, calling your name properly this time. It’s an exaggeration but this is what he thinks being struck by a space debris must feel like. The shy wave of your hand and the sunlight blanketing your skin are enough to set his heart racing. “You look different today.” He supposed he does look different to you. Your encounters with him are always within the confinement of Hongjoong’s studio. You never see him in his casual state, so the messy, half wet hair from the shower earlier, the all sweats get-up he is in and the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose are foreign to you. Hell, you never see him cooing at a soft toy or notice how slow he eats. “Have you eaten yet?” That’s good, Min, that’s a safe question. You nod with a smile, pocketing away your phone, “Just enough to get through the meeting.” Mingi wants to curl up on the floor, what is he going to do with your undivided attention on him?

“Shall we grab something together afterwards?” He curls his hands into fist within the pockets of his sweatpants. What the hell did he just ask you? He needs that space debris to smite him out of existence right now. The endearing shy smile on curving your cheeks upwards has him biting his tongue. Mingi thinks a space debris really has vaporised him, your answer leaving him a stuttering blushing mess. “It’s a date then.”

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

93 notes · View notes

thewildomega · 4 years

Text

Second Chance Ch.10

Waking up you yawned and gave a little stretch, rubbing your eyes you sighed and sat up from the couch, feeling only a little ache in your chest as you did so. Looking around the home you saw the early morning light coming in through the windows and grinned. From the empty sound you didn't think Ed was up yet. Swinging your legs around over the edge you stood and started folding the blanket that you had been using, tossing it over the back of the couch and fluffing the throw pillow back up you nodded, satisfied with it looking like you hadn't been sleeping there for the past week. Remembering how that conversation had went you felt the corner of your lip lift up the slightest amount.

Washing your face and braiding your hair down you back you walked back out to the living room and saw it empty. Listening you could hear the shower from Edward's bedroom and figured he was getting ready for bed himself. The both of you had ate supper with Marco and his wife Zella, staying to talk to them both about your world and some other things. Zella was very nice and for the now second time in your life you could see a blossoming friendship there... maybe... maybe she was just being nice. Biting your lip you decided it was best not to overthink it.

Seeing as the lights were off, other than his bedroom one you walked over to the couch and looked around. Biting the inside of your lip you reached out to pull the throw from the armchair. Turning to the couch you moved to lay down on it, adjusting the throw pillow behind your head and turning to your side. Pulling up your legs so the throw would cover a bit more of you, you sighed. You hated sleeping with pants on, jeans especially but you would just have to deal with it. This wasn't your home, it was his and you didn't want to seem like you weren't respective of that. Closing your eyes you yawned, at least you were already tired. Relaxing you felt yourself drifting off when suddenly a deep, low voice spoke and jolted you from sleep. "Wha..." you asked looking to the back of the couch that you were facing and then turning your head some to see him standing above you.

"I asked you what the hell you thought you were doing?"

Blinking in confusion you felt your bow twitch, "Going to sleep." you answered in an unsure voice.

"You are not sleeping on the couch lass."

Opening and closing your mouth you looked back to the couch and then up to him, "Th..then where do you want me to sleep?" you asked in a low voice. He wouldn't ask you to sleep on the floor would he?

"In the bed of course."

Knitting your brows you looked to him and shook your head. "That's your bed."

"I am not letting you sleep out here on the couch."

"Well I'm not taking your bed so it's either here or the floor." you told him with a firm look.

"I said you're not sleeping on the couch. After everything you did to help me when I ended up in your world I will not allow you to sleep on the couch while I sleep in a bed."

"Yes you will. I am fine here. Plus there is no way you can fit on this thin comfortably."

"I'll make it work now come on, go get in bed."

"No." you huffed, rolling back over to face the back of the couch.

"Y/n."

"Edward." you mocked in the same irritated voice as his. Hearing him growl you kept your eyes close.

"You are so stubborn."

"Maybe you're just too used to getting your way." you shrugged. Hearing a grunt you assumed he had walked away to go to bed but then felt as the throw was ripped from you to be replaced by a heaviness. Opening your eyes to see he had thrown another blanket over you looked up to see him standing there with his brows lowered and his arms crossed over his chest in what looked to be a pout.

"You'll at least use a better blanket than that damn thing."

Grinning you saw him let out a sigh before those warm yellow eyes dropped down to you. "Thank you." hearing him only grunt in response you chuckled "Aren't you too old to pout when things don't go your way."

"Keep it up darling and I'll go get them ropes."

Giggling you saw his lip lift into the smallest grin "Goodnight Ed."

"Sweet dreams lass."

Hearing how low his voice went made those butterflies in your stomach flutter and you turned back to the couch to hide your blush. Closing your eyes you listened to him walk to his bedroom but didn't hear his door close.

Every night he had offered you his bed but every night you had turned him down. He was already feeding you and offering you shelter, he took time out of his day to spend with you and he had even gotten the a seamstress in town to make you some more clothes, you would not take his bed. Walking to the bathroom you looked in the closet to see the basket that held you clothes. Taking off the large shirt of his that you had more or less claimed as a sleeping shirt, you folded it up and picked out your clothes for today. Pulling on a pair of jean shorts, your bra and a navy loose fitting tank top you pulled loose you hair and ran your fingers through it before nodded and letting out a little hum. Walking out of the bathroom you moved to the kitchen and made him a quick omelet, your way of paying for your stay was cooking for him and cleaning, even though he told you on multiple occasions that you didn't have to. Good thing was you seemed to mostly wake before him so there wasn't much he could do to stop you. Sitting his plate at the head of the table where he always sat you also got his tea cup ready. Cleaning up you made your way outside, breathing in a deep breath of the clean fresh air.

"Good morning y/n."

Looking over to the close line not too far from Edward's house you saw Zella there hanging up a load of laundry and smiled. Walking over to her, "Good Morning Zella."

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"Good. My head isn't even hurting anymore and neither is my chest." you told her

"I am glad to hear. I'm sure Whitebeard is happy to see you no longer in pain as well." Smiling up at the woman she hung up her husband's pants. "So what is it you are going to do today?"

"Umm I don't really know. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Not help per say but I'm going to the market when I get done hanging out clothes and you are more than welcome to join me if you would like."

Smiling you nodded. Helping her hang up the rest of her and Marco's clothing the two of you were soon off to the market. While you didn't have any money to buy anything it was fun to just hang out with Zella and look at all the different foods and stuff. Things here looked and smelled so much better than in your world with nothing being processed. Everything tasted better too, although you really missed pizza. You could probably make it but you would have to get the ingredients first and well yet again you had no money.

"...I'll pay you fifty berries...."

"No way!"

"Fine a hundred berries."

"I said no! Anyone would have to be a fool to do it."

"Well I can't leave this island until it's done... I'm not leaving that damn chest down there."

"Best I can tell you is start asking around. Whoever take the job is going to have to be a damn good swimmer is all I'ma say...either that or one of them fishmen."

Having caught on to the conversation between the two men you bit your lip. Looking down to Zella you tapped her shoulder. "I'll be right back." you told her and saw her nod. Walking over to the two men you licked your lips. "Um excuse me sir but I heard you talking about a job you needed done, one that would need a good swimmer and I... well I'd like to take it." you said and saw both of them looking up to you in shock.

"Girl this ain't no job for..." the one started but felt a jab to hsi ribs and shut up.

"Is that right doll? Well I must ask, are you a decent swimmer?"

Looking to the man with the long scraggly beard you nodded. While you hated being called doll you would bite your tongue in favor of making some money. "Yes sir, I'd like to say so. What exactly is it you need done?"

"Well you see doll my ship collide with the reef out there during that storm two weeks ago and the damn thing sunk. Me and my crew just did make it out before the sea swallowed it up but my chest of goods, including my log book and post are in that chest so you see I kinda need it back before we can set off again. It's finally low enough tide that someone would be able to dive down and fetch it for me, I'd go myself but I'm not a good swimmer and neither is none of my crew." he told the abnormally tall young woman.

Nodding you tilted your head. "So where is the chest at exactly?"

"It's in my cabin, second floor of the ship."

Nodding again you looked him in the eye. "A hundred berries if I bring it back to you?"

"Aye. I'll sweeten the deal, I'll give you two if you also manage to bring up my hat and sword, I had them on my nightstand when I went to sleep that night." he grinned.

"Alright I'll do it."

"Well then let us show you the way." he grinned.

Quickly going back over to Zella and telling her you would catch up with her later you saw her knitted brows as you only told her you had gotten a quick job. Hearing the men call for you, you gave her a grin. "I'll be fine. if Edward asks just tell him I'll be back later." you told her before turning around to follow the men towards the shipwreck. Arriving at the beach you saw some of the reef and rocks sticking up but you didn't see a ship which meant it was deep underwater.

"She's just there doll. Remember my cabin is just left off the stairs, second floor."

Taking a deep breath you nodded. You were sure your heart was beating hard enough against your ribs that it just might burst through. 'Calm down. You've swarm back and forth across the lake a million times, this is going to be a piece of cake. Besides if you do this you will be able to pay Edward back for the clothes and buy enough stuff to make Pizza for You, Ed, Marco and Zella. Hell maybe even some type of desert too.' taking a step out into the water you felt it decently warm, good at least you wouldn't be freezing to death. Slowly walking out into the water you felt the waves crash into you but pushed on.

"I'll be waiting for you doll."

.........................

Waking up he walked into the kitchen and saw breakfast waiting for him on the table like usual, sighing he moved to sit down at his seat to eat, knowing she had probably not made herself anything. She was constantly cleaning and cooking for him. He told her repeatedly that she didn't have to but did she listen, No. Y/n was a hard headed woman but she was also kind and funny and caring. Between her world and his own he had taken notice how she always put herself last, like her boots, those hole ridden things should have been replaced by now but instead she had used her money to buy him clothes and food. He knew she didn't make much working at the bar and when he had accidentally knocked a notebook from the coffee table one day he had opened it to see papers stating things she had to pay, he still found it odd people there had to pay for something as simple as water. Adding them up he knew she was by no means a wealthy person but she never complained. Smiling to himself he took another bite of the omelet.

"What has you smiling so much Pops?"

Snapping his eyes over he saw Marco walking into the room with a soft grin on his face. "Oh nothing really..."

"Mmm maybe I should have asked who, although I'm pretty sure I already know." Marco chuckled.

Humming he took another bite of his omelet, bacon and cheese, his favorite, well she did add in spinach but he wouldn't complain. She tended to add vegetables into everyone of his meals. Seeing Marco take a seat at the table beside him he swallowed his food. "What is it you have been doing this morning?"

"Helped Mrs. Harp deliver her new granddaughter."

Smiling he gave a light chuckle. "Oh yea, I'll have to go tell them congratulations. Rea and the babe all healthy?"

Nodding he grinned. "Yep both of them are doing great." Rubbing the back of his head he leaned back in the large chair, "So Jozu, Vista and Izo are on their way back here."

Looking back up he blinked, "Did you tell them?" he asked and saw Marco shake his head.

"No I thought it would be easier in person."

"Do you know when they will be here?"

"Within the next week."

Humming he finished off his food. While he was excited to see his children again he knew he would never be able to see all of them. He and Marco had already spoken and he agreed with his son, it was best if Whitebeard stayed dead. Standing he carried his pate over to the sink to wash, if he didn't go ahead and do it she would. Putting on the kettle to make his tea his mind drifted again to his soulmate. He wanted to do something for her, something special but he didn't know what yet. Glancing up out the window he saw Zella outside, she looked to be just getting back from the market judging by the basket in her arms. Seeing her looking around he grinned softly. "Marco lad, I think your wife is looking for you?"

Standing Marco moved to push in the chair. "You know Pops I could be saying that same thing to you before long."

Hearing this he felt his body stiffen a bit, "Marco..." he said in warning but his first only chuckled in response. Being left alone in the house he couldn't help but think on his son's words. The thought of being able to call y/n his wife made his chest warm up, a upward tug of his lips. He knew he was falling in love with her, he had been around long enough to be in touch with his own feelings and emotions. He was also well past the age to be playing around, he knew what he wanted, he wanted her. There was only one thing holding him back. Her. Nothing about her in particular, hell in his eyes she was perfect. Perfect for him. BUT, she herself wasn't there yet. She had started to open up more and more to him. He knew her likes and dislikes. He knew how she liked her food, how she enjoyed exploring and the water. He knew her favorite color, he knew that she hated bugs and how she wasn't fond of the sitting around but the one thing he knew nothing about other than the little he had been able to piece together himself was her past. She kept that part of herself locked away in a deep abyss that he knew even she wished she could just forget about. She couldn't' though, it was something else learned with age, something she had yet to grasp. A person can move on from their past, learn from it but you could never forget it. Until she got that, until she opened up to him, trusted him he knew their relationship could go no further.

Snapped out of his thoughts by the kettle he moved over to pour himself a cup of tea. Sipping at the hot drink he looked towards the couch she had been sleeping on and frowned. He really had to find her somewhere else to sleep. When he had built himself a home he had assumed he would never have anyone to share it with. His boys stayed where ever doing God knows what when they docked on his home island while he chose to spend it quietly. So being that he had only ever built one room, his room. Yes the other rooms were larger, big enough that if his crew came over to eat or whatever else they could but sleeping wise, no, there was no where else. Sitting his cup down on table he walked over to the book shelf and looked through them until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing the green spined book he opened it and took out the folded plans for the home. Carrying them back over to the table he opened them up and set them down to look them over. Crossing his arms he tapped his finger on his arm in thought. He could easily add another room off of the living room. Finding a pencil he moved to sit down to start making the plans when he heard the door open again and what sounded like the rushed steps. "Marco what..."

"We have a problem..."

.................................

Kicking your arms and feet you kept your head above water, bobbing up and down with the waves as you swam to where to reef was and the apparent sunken ship. Luckily the water was clear so you could make out the ship once you rounded the large rocks. Fish were swimming around so hopefully that meant no sharks. Getting to where you were just over the wreckage you took a few deep breaths, readying yourself. "You got this." you told yourself. With one deep breath you dived under. Swimming down deeper and deeper you saw the ship come into full view. Taking a moment to look the whole thing over you grinned and then moved towards the stairs. Second floor to the left. Second floor to the left. Repeating it over and over in your head you paused when it got much darker inside. Letting your eyes adjust you went into the room that had to be the captain's cabin. Seeing a few fish swimming about you scanned the room for the chest. At first you didn't see it but then you saw something under a knocked over chair. Swimming over you placed your feet on the floor and pulled it up. Thankfully it was a smaller chest and so you grabbed it and started swimming out of the ship. Getting to the surface you set the chest on the rocks that were above water.

Taking a few minutes to regain your breathing you dived back down to get the hat and sword that he said he would pay extra for. Finding your way to his room easily this time you started searching for the sword and hat. He had said they were on his table but everything had been knocked over when it sunk. Seeing a shining sword against the wall you grabbed it, putting it over your arm for now. Now for the hat. Looking over the whole room you ran out of breath and had to take the sword back up. Placing it on the rocks as well you decide to go look on more time, wanting to pay Ed back. Swimming your way down to the ship and getting to the room you looked it over again. Seeing the bed you got down to peek under it and long and behold there was the hat. Reaching under it you felt the material of the hat and grabbed it. Pulling it out you suddenly felt a sharp pain on your arm. Snatching your arm out you saw a eel biting you. Having let out a scream when it bit you you didn't have much air left. Hitting it to try and make it let go it only started to shake, blood coming from around it. Clenching your teeth you grabbed a shard of the broken mirror on the floor and stabbed it. As soon as it let go you dropped the glass and quickly took hold of the hat. Swimming out of the ship you saw blood pouring from your arm but ignored it as your lungs burned. Kicking your feet and arms about you pushed for the surface, desperate for air.

As soon as you broke out you gasped for air, coughing the water that had started to fill your lungs. Crawling up onto the rocks you put the hat beside the other items. Lifting your arm you saw the wound bleeding down your arm. The whole area felt like it was on fire. Were eels venomous? You didn't know but you did know that you really needed to get back to shore. Putting the sword strap over your arm you grabbed the chest and shoved the hat through the other handle. Holding onto the other side you slide off the rocks and started your slow swim back to shore.

...........................

Finding the man in town that Zella had described he saw the man laughing with some other men that he knew weren't from his village. Gritting his teeth he walked over to him and reached down to lift the man off the stool by his shirt. Holding up to his level he looked into his eyes.

"Hey what's the big deal?"

"You think you are something don't you punk?! Conning an innocent woman to go risk her life out there in those waters!"

"I didn't con anyone, she made her choice, I didn't hold a gun to her head or nothing."

Growling he looked down to the open chest and saw it filled with a little treasure and a log pose. "I am going to make this quick and simple for you. You and your crew will be off of this island within the next thirty minutes or I will personally see to it that you all join your ship." Seeing the man nod vigorously he dropped him to the ground and went to where his heart was pulling him.

Walking over to the beach he looked around until a head of h/c hair caught his eye. Moving over to her he saw her sitting in the sand, her hair and clothes soaking wet but that wasn't what caught his attention, it was the blood currently dripping down her arm. It looked to be in the shape of a moray eel bite and he could hear her mumbling as he got closer. "Can you not go a full two weeks without injury?"

Snapping your eyes up to the all too familiar voice you saw a look on his face of both annoyance and concern. "I can, I just ah... well..." seeing his brow raise as he crouched down in front of you you snapped your mouth shut.

Moving to kneel in front of her he grabbed her arm and turned it to look the bite over fully. Sighing he pulled her up and lifted her up into his arm, hearing her let out a little 'eep'. Turning and walking towards his home he heard her huff, feeling water run down his front.

Being carried in one of his arms you huffed out, "You do know I can walk, it's my arm, not my leg." you complained but secretly loved the warmth his large body was giving your chilled, wet one.

"I can see that but as it turns out darling I can not trust you not to do something to put yourself in danger so I am going to carry you."

"I didn't tell the eel to bite me!"

"No you just decided to go swim out to a shipwreck in waters that are infested with sea kings and a million other things that would swallow you up in an instant. All for nothing I might add."

"It wasn't for nothing."

"Then tell me lass what was it for?"

Turning a little in his hold you grabbed the folded money from your pocket. "It was a job."

Looking to the berries he knit his brows, "So you risked your life so you could have some money? What do you need money for?"

"It's not for me, it's for you." you told him leaning over him to shove the money into his back pocket.

Quickly pulling the money out of his pocket he looked to see about two hundred berries there and shook his head at her, "Why is it for me?"

"To pay you back for the clothes and food and letting me stay with you."

"I'm not taking this."

Feeling him shove the money back into your hands you knit your brows. "Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are." Going to put it in his pocket you saw him hold his hand over it to stop you. Sitting up you reached up to push it under his bandana.

"Y/n." he grunted. Trying to reach up to take the money out of his bandana he felt her grab his hand to try and stop him.

"Ed please just take it I want to pay you back, I...I don't want to bum off of you or make it seem like I'm not grateful."

Sighing he held her hands in one of his and looked into her eyes. "Lass I know you're not bumming off of me, I know you are grateful. I won't allow you to pay me back because there is nothing for you to pay me back for." seeing her go to speak he pressed his finger to her lips while still holding her hands still. "Did you not buy me clothes, feed me, shelter me and spend your money on other things of entertainment while I was in your world?"

"Well yeah but that's different..."

Chuckling he rose his brows, "How so?"

"Because you...you fixed my roof."

"I patched your roof once. That one deed doesn't count as payment."

"You chopped wood..."

"Hmmm chopped wood for a fire to keep us both warm, still not enough."

Looking down you thought on the main point that had been filling your mind, "You kept me company."

Hearing how soft her voice had gone he felt his brows lower and the smile slowly fall from his face. "Aren't you doing the same thing with me darling?"

"It's not the same thing. You have friends here, your son, your family. You don't need me." biting the inside of your lip you looked away.

Furrowing his brows he placed her down on the log bench outside of his home. Kneeling down in front of her he curled his finger under her chin to force her eyes to his while the other rested on the bench by her thigh. "Need no, want yes. Don't ever think you are burdening me darling..." licking his lips he dipped his head closer to hers, "... That I won't ever want you by my side." Glancing down to her lips he felt that pulling in his chest.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest the closer his face got to yours. When he was only a few inches from your own you felt your eyes begin to slip close.

Going to close the distance he dipped his head and...

"Woah what happened to your arm.... oh... um..."

Tensing up when Marco's voice suddenly sounded from beside the both of you you quickly leaned back and looked down, feeling your whole face heat up with embarrassment.

Leaning back he glanced down to y/n to see her head dipped down and her shoulders curled inward some. Gritting his teeth he let out a small sigh as he moved to stand. Looking to his son he gave him a glare that he knew Marco understood when he saw him making that same guilty face he had made since he was a young boy. Glancing back down to his lass he saw her very uncomfortable and knew even if he told Marco to leave there was no going back to that moment right now. "Marco tend to her arm while I go get her a towel. Lass don't give him a fuss." Rubbing her shoulder he saw her nod but still not lift her eyes to his.

"I'll go get my kit Y/n, be right back."

Walking towards the door he gave his son a smack to the back of his head as he passed, hearing him mumble out a small 'sorry'.

..............................

Once Marco had cleaned your arm and bandaged it you looked up to his eyes and gave him a small grin, "Thank you, I'm sorry I keep using up your bandages and stuff."

Chuckling he looked to the woman and smiled, "Nah you're fine Y/n. Keeps my skills refreshed." he said and saw her smile. "So Zel told me about this thing called a pizza you told her about, what is it exactly?"

"Well actually I was thinking maybe I could make us some for supper, if your father is okay with it that is?" you asked finally looking back up to the man for the first time since what now had to be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Just thinking about what had almost happened made your cheeks heat up again.

Looking down to her eyes he saw a blush on her cheeks but said nothing and nodded. "Of course lass, as long as it won't bother your arm." When she smiled he grinned as well. "Alright then well let's go back into town and get the stuff you need."

Nodding you got off the bench and moved to hang up the damp towel on the clothes line to dry. Your clothes were only a little damp now, along with your hair but in the sun they would dry quickly. Walking back over to Ed and Marco you saw the man look to you.

"Anything me and Zel can do or bring?" Marco asked, packing up his things.

Shaking your head you smiled, "Just yourselves."

"Alright then. I'll see you both at supper then."

Walking beside her towards town he glanced down to her arm, the bite wasn't that big on her as it would have been a normal sized person but he knew it still hurt, eels bites were nothing to take lightly. "You make sure to keep that bite clean lass." Seeing her nod he licked his lips and reached up to rub the back of his head. He wasn't liking how awkward this felt.

Wanting something to talk about but not wanting to talk about that you glanced up to the mountain and tilted your head. "What's up there?"

Humming he followed her eyes up tot he mountain and rose his brows, "Ah what do you mean?"

"Like is it flat or are there more trees or something else?"

"Don't know. Probably just rocks." he shrugged.

Tilting your head you grinned up at him. "You've never climbed up there?"

"No."

Pursing your lips you smiled.

Seeing her smiling and looking towards the mountain he knit his brows, looking back and forth between the woman and the land mass. "Don't even think about it."

Hearing him say that you looked to him and grinned. "What?"

"You are not climbing up there."

"And why not?"

"What do you mean why not? Because it's dangerous that's why."

Waving him off you smiled, "It'll be fine, I climbed the mountains back home loads of times. Besides I want to see what's up there."

"I said no. We are not climbing that mountain."

"I didn't say you had to go."

"Well I sure as hell ain't letting you go up there by yourself."

"If you're scared though there is no reason in you..."

"Scared?! You think I am scared?!" Chuckling and then laughing he shook his head. "We are not climbing the mountain and it's not because I'm scared."

Looking to him you smirked "Bock bock bock."

"Chicken noises really? I am not a chicken. I'm not scared." Crossing his arms over his chest he looked down at her and saw her still looking up at him with that teasing grin. "Don't they teach children to respect their elders where you are from?"

"I mean they do but I didn't know you when you were older and technically we don't know how old you are now so I could very well be your elder."

'That'd not how that works." he grumbled.

"Oh come on it'll be fun." you smiled. Seeing his brow lower you wrapped your arms around one of his. "Please?" you begged in the sweetest voice you could.

Casting a glance down at her he saw her smiling sweetly at him, batting her lashes as a bonus. Sighing he dropped his head back. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Second death, I wonder what world you will end up in this time?"

"The next time I die I better stay dead."

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #feedback would be appreciated #edward newgate x reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate au

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freewheelshippin · 4 years

Text

PIRATE pt 1 (ish)

It’s summer!!! I want to think about swashbuckling pirate AU adventures!!! I’m still thinking I might just snippet and snapshot the rest of the ideas I have here so it’s like a big bathtub full of toys I can do whateeeeever I want with, but you know. It’s me. I don’t do a damn thing without 1) slowburn 2) tappin into that Too Much Gene. So here u go, a setup.

Takes place right after the events of Pirates of the Frontier drama CD-- you don’t have to have listened to be able to enjoy my offshoot, but you can read a great translation here and hear the whole thing here if you haven’t and would like to! (I still gotta find a sauce and watch the stageplay of it...but this is not about that!)

Not much by ways of content warnings other than some reference to alcohol. Onwards!

Ikki came back with a smile that awarded Malreaux and the White Devil their first agreement.

“Oi, Cap’n,” Malreaux growled. “Who the hell is she?”

“Our new boatswain!” Ikki said without a shred of doubt in him. “She overheard me trying to recruit someone and said she was looking to join a crew.”

The White Devil clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and began to stride towards the ship.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Malreaux barked after him.

“I will let the peasantry sort their problems out,” he said, not bothering to even turn around and acknowledge them. “While I rest in my quarters.”

“Don’t you fucking care who the hell Ikki decided to bring onto the ship?!”

“I do not. Whomever is brought aboard is a new recruit and therefore beneath me. If they intend to be a turncoat, it is simple to kill them where they stand. Good night.”

It was barely sundown.

“Oi! OI! Get back here and deal with your problems like an actual crewmate, you hoity-toity bastard!”

“...So what’s he do on the ship?” the new boatswain asked plainly. “Other than be a pompous ass?”

“Be a pompous pain in the ass,” Malreaux muttered, giving up on getting the pale specter to listen. He crossed his arms, and his expression seemed a few words away from an outright snarl. “The cap recruited him barely two weeks ago,” he said pointedly, glaring a hole in the new recruit.

“Malreaux, calm down, please!” Ikki pleaded. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad person. He’s already helped us lots, and he cares…just, in his own way.”

Malreaux looked incredulously at his captain, brows knit. “He threatened to throw you and your lucky pendant overboard because you ate some of his fucking macarons.”

“But he didn’t!” Ikki defended. “Because he wants to find the Red Angel, too, you know, and we’re the only other people in the world he can do that with!”

His crewmate sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead where it creased before giving Ikki’s recruit the once-over.

“So who the hell are you?”

“You can call me Maighread,” she replied coolly enough. Malreaux studied her expression, meeting her eye. She held his gaze challengingly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something.

“And what the hell makes you think you’re worthwhile joining us,” he said flatly.

“Well,” she started, shifting her weight. She had an impractically big sword with her, and she began to lean on it. “For starters, Mr. Pompous, Pale, and Pillow Princess is proof positive you’ll all strangle each other at sea if you go much longer without a boatswain.”

Malreaux snorted. “You think you can get him in line, huh.”

“Oh, sure. Ikki tells me he’s a sweet tooth, I’m sure there’s a solution that involves padlocking the galley unless he’s been a good boy and pulled his weight.”

Ikki laughed at that remark. “He’s going to be so dramatic if you do that!”

“He’d shoot off the lock if you did that!” Malreaux barked, though he liked the idea of someone else on the ship who thought of the White Bastard as a problem. “But you still haven’t answered the fucking question about why I should let you on the ship.” Ikki opened his mouth before Malreaux cut him off. “From your mouth! I wanna hear whatever snake oil you fed him myself!”

Ikki sighed. “I’m sorry, he’s just looking out for us.”

“No, no. I get it. Honestly, there’s not much story to tell. I’m a scholar, and I’m on a hunt for rare plants and animals that haven’t been recorded yet.” She opened a pouch on her belt, showing it was stuffed with drawing tools, and handed Malreaux the book strapped at her hip. He took note of the tattoos scaling up her hands and arms as she handed it to him; the images were fearsome and aggressive, but not from any dangerous allegiance he confidently recognized.

“What the hell’s a scholar doing looking for a tiny pirate crew like this, huh? Shouldn’t you have fancy navy escorts?” He flipped through the book. Indeed, they were mostly sketches and notes of flowers, plants, and animals, the pages warped and slightly shimmering from dried-up seaspray.

“Fancy navy escorts are a natural disaster with government funding,” she supplied. “You heard about the ones that torched a whole island just for fun? The way I see it, I’d rather trust a small crew headed by a good man to take me to new places we don’t know how to respect yet.”

“And what kinda scholar needs a big dumb sword like that?”

“Family heirloom,” she said flatly. “My dear old departed khun yai meemaw would flood the seas with her tears if he found out I wasn’t taking ole necklopper everywhere for protection,” she continued facetiously.

Malreaux met her eye, still frowning. He tossed her back her book.

“I don’t like her,” he remarked to Ikki as he crossed his arms.

“Why not?” he asked genuinely.

“She seems like bad news.”

“She seems like a good person, and she’s already offered to use her skills to help me find the Red Angel.”

“You ever met a scholar covered in ink like that?” Malreaux replied.

“You’re covered in ink like that,” Maighread shot back.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “And I’m bad news. But we’re short on hands, the captain likes you, and I’m just the cook. We’re ditching you at the next port if I’m not convinced by then,” he said, shouldering the pack of goods he’d bought as he went to board.

Maighread shouldered her sword again. “I’ll be on my best behavior, chef,” she called after him, letting a long sigh of relief out when she thought Malreux was safely out of earshot.

“That went great,” Ikki cheered, patting her heartily on the back.

“...Really,” she said, looking at Ikki disbelievingly.

“Well, why else do you think our crew’s so small? I know he’s kinda rough, but I don’t think I’ve known anyone who’s worked harder to keep me safe. Normally he’s way, way angrier about how annoying someone I want to recruit is or just doesn’t let them onboard to begin with.”

“I’m glad I had you vouching for me, then,” she replied with a tired smile. “So, all that’s left is to fetch dinner and we’re good to depart?”

“Yeah! I ordered ahead of time. Four whole portions of fresh steak, to celebrate our new crewmate with,” Ikki replied with a beaming, infectious smile.

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

Maighread set to work immediately, as promised, but with gusto and ease like her sealegs had been built on this ship. The White Devil was goaded into tasks he complained furiously about but did impeccably, she took plenty on herself, while Ikki and Malreaux redistributed their responsibilities amongst one another. There was less for Malreux to do, in a relieving way, and he could focus more on the meals they relied on to keep spirits high and their bodies alive.

She was talkative at meals, but evasive about any real questions they had about her. She only started conversation with Ikki, and seemed to avoid Malreaux outside of duty. So when she asked Malreaux for a favor at the next port, he was caught off-guard.

“Assuming you don’t still think I’m a disaster waiting to happen.”

“...You earned points just for getting the pale bastard to pull his weight. Figures he’s wicked competent.”

“I won’t lie,” she started, encouraged. “I feel a little bad. Some stuff I assigned him was out of pure pettiness. I just can’t fuckin’ stand how he thinks he can order me around and call me peasant.”

Malreux’s mouth crooked into a smile. He told himself it was because someone else was as sick of that shit as he was, and Ikki was too forgiving, even when he was the one the White Devil was taking most advantage of. “It’s what that fop needs. He can’t keep going around like this, and it pisses me off he’s got all that fancy magic that means we can’t just kick his ass.”

“Oh. What, that rope trick he does?”

Malreaux groaned. “My ribs still hurt from last time.”

“What?” She grinned at him. “You’re serious, he used it on you?”

“Did the captain seriously not tell you how we met that bastard?!” he grunted irascibly.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it later? Sounds like a conversation you can’t have in polite company,” she said with a challenging smile, leaning ever so-slightly-back into the busy port town behind her.

“Shaddup!” Malreaux barked. “You really wanna undo all the good will you earned?”

“Well,” she replied, the smile softening into something more relieved, “it’s nice you admit I’ve earned any to begin with. Lemme earn some more. I got an idea that’ll get us some coin, but we gotta go now.”

“Fine. I can see just what kind of bad news you are that way.” Maighread’s face fell for a half a moment before she stopped herself from giving away anything more.

“Oh, just the worst. Like, fuck you and the boat you rode in on. C’mon.”

They strolled through town. Maighread tucked her sleeves into her bracers despite the heat, hiding away the markings lining her arms, even as townsfolk gave them extra wide berth as Malreaux didn’t bother to hide his.

She took them to a liquor distiller in a back alley, unmarked and unpopular, where she negotiated buying barrels of rum wholesale to age in the ship’s hold. They’d sell them at different ports and spread the word of the distiller, and they’d likewise keep some for the crew to do with whatever they pleased. She looked pointedly at Malreaux as she paid for it with her own money, and he could only snort and gesture to show he got the point.

Malreaux was strong enough to pick one barrel up over each shoulder. He caught out of the corner of his eye that she’d seemed ready to roll hers back to the ship, but she tried to hoist hers up the same way once Malreaux had lifted his up.

“What the hell are you doing,” he growled. “Don’t try and show off if you’re not strong enough.”

“I’m strong enough,” she replied with more venom than he’d seen or frankly expected from her.

“You aren’t if you’re just gonna slow me down.” Malreaux started to walk ahead, back to the ship. She trailed far behind, like he expected, as she insisted on carrying them herself. He met her part-way back after loading them onto the ship and seized one of them off her shoulder.

“What’re you trying to fucking prove?!” he scolded. “You’re the fucking boatswain, who fucking expects you to be freakishly strong like me?”

She snorted, trying to hide how heavily she was breathing. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause the first thing Ikki thought when you met was ‘hm, that guy’s really strong, I better make him my cook!’” She paused. “...ah, shit, nevermind, he might’ve thought that.”

Malreaux, despite himself, laughed. She looked so relieved when he did, and he set the barrel down as he sighed heavily.

“......Look,” he started, despite everything telling him he shouldn’t bother for just another seafarer who’d leave him for dead someday if it suited her. “I’m still not convinced on you, but I’m not gonna kick you out just ‘cuz you don’t lift a barrel like I do.”

“....it’s about my pride, too,” she admitted, but she laid the other barrel on her shoulder down on its side, bracing her foot on it to keep it from rolling away.

“Well.” Malreaux kicked a barrel over to roll himself. “Can’t fault you for having that. Just stop doing stupid shit ‘cause of it, you’re gonna make trouble for me ‘n Ikki.”

Maighread didn’t reply verbally, but the look she gave him was grateful, and she kicked the barrel in front of her gently to get it rolling towards the ship. They didn’t talk outside of practicalities as they loaded the rest of the barrels, but Maighread walked side-by-side with him from then on.

It was as he passed her a handspike for the turnstile that she started a new conversation.

“Can I ask you something?” She notched the first one in, and he tossed her the second one.

“What.”

“Nothing big. I just wanna know how you met Ikki. You two really look out for one another.”

Malreaux hesitated as he took his place opposite her.

“Haul,” he signaled, as he gripped and leaned into the handspike.

“Haul away,” she replied, and they groaned forward, slowly lifting all the barrels off the deck to lower into the hold. “You gonna answer my question or not?”

“I got left behind by my old crew and he picked me up.”

“....like a kid and a stray,” she offered, a touch of apprehension in her voice.

“Exactly like a kid and a stray.”

“I mean...it still sucks to get stuck like that, even if it got you a good captain.”

“No. I dug that hole for myself. I must’ve fought everyone on that crew at least twice over and drawn blood from them at least once. I didn’t know shit about how to be on a crew. It was a long time coming.”

“...huh.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, I’m just. You’re impressively honest is all.”

Malreaux narrowed his eyes, even if the compliment didn’t feel sour. “Just baring my fangs. I never said I wouldn’t kick you into the sea right after we get all the rum loaded.”

“Heh. I’ll fight you tooth and nail when you inevitably don’t double-cross me.”

“What’s that confidence for? Tch.”

She laughed before they reversed and slowly lowered everything into the hold. Malreaux wanted to dislike how natural these motions felt together, but instead his body just felt lighter.

In the hold, as they untied the lines holding the barrels together, she insisted they take a little sample of the rum. She said it was for comparing the taste later. Malreaux thought it was for making sure it wasn’t water with a shot of piss.

“....He deserves it,” Malreaux admitted after the slight burn of the rum fired the nerves in his tongue until it almost hurt.

“Hm?”

“Ikki. If someone’s going to put their faith and trust in me, I owe them my best. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

“It should.” She took the cup from him. “I can promise you I’ll abide by that, too.”

Malreaux steeled his gaze on her. If she was a charlatan, she was a goddamn good one.

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #pirate au #scribblings

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bettycooperoutfitwatch · 5 years

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3x11 Chapter Forty-Six: The Red Dahlia

Our ~noir~ episode! For a genre obsessed with moral ambiguity and chiaroscuro, it’s fitting that our girl’s journey here concerns a growing acceptance that the world isn’t split between black and white, good or evil, criminals and victims—but indeed, is all just shades of gray.

It’s a network teen soap, it’s gotta be a little literal. But it has its surprises.

Betty, at least in the context of this episode, doesn’t really fit into any of the usual tropes of a noir story. She’s not the femme fatale (Veronica). If anything, she’s the private dick—but Jug also claims that title from the top. They have two intersecting investigations going on, and two initial levels of cynicism.

For a moment, she’s also the Girl Friday when she aids Jug’s mystery at the Maple Club—but true to form the Girl Friday is almost always much more interesting than the private eye she aids, imho (this isn’t Jughead Jones Outfit Watch.)

There are so many dutch angles in this ep. Ms. Reinhart truly has a great face that works in so many scenarios, but those big eyes of her’s really sell the noir-lighting.

Her necklace is a little cartoon diamond 💎

A ribbed v-neck, her envelope purse, ice cream letterman, and what appear to be her baby blue high-top Chucks.

I’m pretty sure she wears this denim button-down skirt in 402. We’ll revisit.

Her anchor necklace seems apropos for the funeral of a merchant marine, long-lost Uncle Claudius.

These boots (navy blue suede or velvet) have popped up before, and will again.

Betty and Jug discover the Maple Club—Riverdale’s premier (presumably only?) kink club—and affect an ever-so-slightly been-there-done-that attitude to the proceedings.

[lol]

Clearly these two are into certain things (please see 214), but this doesn’t mean Betty is without prejudices regarding the commodification of sex.

(Riverdale does this—drop the episode number into the episode—not infrequently.)

As an aside—the preconceptions Betty seems to carry into this conversation about sex work are interesting, in light of her own...experiences in that realm. Not all sex workers are exploited, but Betty arguably was. Without going too much into it—sixteen years old is young, and a person that age probably cannot consent to participating in that economy.

Butttttttt—she’s not wrong that Penelope is absolutely making out like a bandit on the labor of others; that’s capitalism, baby, and capitalism is all about exploitation of labor. Sex work is work.

(Congrats to those of you who had ‘Capitalism is bad’ on your Betty Cooper Outfit Watch bingo cards. But honestly—this is the noir episode. The systems that crush our humanity are at play. Betty started this episode wearing a little fake diamond necklace. This is an episode in which Archie fails to understand how unions work, tries to fuck over the rest of the workers who have fought hard for their protections, remains extremely on brand. In fairness, he’s probably been let down by an American school system that does not have the resources to adequately teach the labor movement and/or actively suppresses such history.)

Okay.

Riverdale is coming for capitalism and the patriarchy???!?!?!?!

I need a moment.

Penelope drops some exposition, and some unexpected nuance. Betty confronts the complexity of bad people who do bad things to other bad people, and the reality of her own shady actions (eg, handing Chic over the the Black Hood.) She’s forced to confront the complexity and difficulty of being a human in the world.

(THIS MEANS WE’RE NEVER GONNA KNOW, ELIZABETH.)

(I feel both Betty and Jug would benefit from a binge of The Good Place. No?)

Season 3 is giving us a lot of subtle Juliet-puff shoulders, and the occasional heart motif. A literal heart on her sleeve, you might say.

Her pants might be the brown trousers we saw in 309, or maybe not; as ever, the lighting makes it inconclusive.

This moment, and this episode, Penelope and Hal—all touch lightly on the generational cycle of abuse. Abused people often abuse people. But it’s important to note that’s never an excuse—it’s just a means of understanding a cycle, in the hopes one might be able to break it. Like wise young Jug told Betty way back in 106—we’re not our families.

Penelope’s actions push Betty to consider the necessary complexities of her father as a person who killed innocent people, but was also the person who taught her about cars, bought her Orange Freezes at Pop’s after ballet, etc.

I have to appresh that Riverdale is trying to give us a little bit of nuance, even if it’s perhaps a bit...at odds with their other efforts.

Summary: Just 3!

I Own This: Okay I do own that heart sweater, which is a little outré for me—but I live to surprise

Key necklace appearances: Betty’s necklace repertoire has really flourished; ket necklace does not appear here.

That backpack?: Backpack endures.

Best outfit: I’m drawn to her heart sweater look (obv), but would be remiss to not shout-out to Jug’s waffle-knit sweater and striped suspenders.

#3x11 #s3 #riverdale #betty cooper outfit watch #betty cooper #long post #cw: abuse #jic #what's more: pls dm me if there are other things i should be flagging; here or elsewhere

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alexanders-coffee · 4 years

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I finally finished making the first chapter! The book is called Bone Marrow by the way

This chapter contains: paranoia, and recalling traumatic events

The smell of coffee beans waffered through the air as the sun barely peeked through the city buildings. A medium sized lump on the old small bed stirred before a bony hand appeared from inside the cocoon. The hand grasped at the blanket, peeling it away from the body underneath. The skeleton sat up and dazedly stared at the wall before him. Sun rays peered through the dirty cracked window, old curtains fluttering lightly from the heater pumping warm air out below it. The walls were a light brown though the male was sure it had originally been a more cream color despite his landlord's protests. The floor above him creaked lightly as he could hear echoes of footsteps coming from upstairs.

The boney figure was still shaken up from the previous night. His leg unconsciously curled into his chest as he thought about it. He became slightly short of breath at the mere thought of everything. He was still shook, mostly from the fact that he wasn't killed but also the mere fact that something like this happened to someone like him. He wasn't anyone important, just a mere photographer who produced photos for the local newspaper and even got to write a few of the stories. He never wrote anything on the murders and stuck to the boring things that people tended to overlook. It was a sucky job but someone had to do it.

When the skeleton had gotten back to his place, he had immediately called the police. The police hadn't really belived him when he had said he witnessed a murder since the streets souronding that area were peaceful and only contained your average junkies and hooligan teens. But they proceeded with protocol and dispatched a police officer to go check the crime scene. When they had found the body an investigation was released almost immediately after seeing how the victim was murdered. The way the victim had died resembled the many others that fell victim to the 'Hound'.

The Hound was the newest serial killer in the state. They were named 'Hound' after the first few bodies were found with sharp almost canine like teeth marks littering their bodies. It wasn't released to the public yet if the cause of death was from the bite marks or the deep gashes done with a bowie knife. The police tried to keep the whole thing on the down low but a few reporters caught wind of it and jumped to give this new killer a name, which seemed to only fuel the wrath by said killer. The Bureau tried to disclose any other information so the media couldn't make a not on anything. It was an attempt to lure the killer out and make them act more recklessly. Which utterly failed.

The skeleton was brought in for questioning a few hours later but was released a little while after since it was nearing the two am mark. He would have to come back in the morning to finish up the questions before he was off the hook. His eyes turned to view the alarm clock on his nightstand, he gave a small sigh as it read six thirty-eight. He only had an hour or so before he would be asked to come down to the station. He wanted to succumb to escapism and hide away from this reality. Perhaps he could go back to sleep and would later awake to realize it was all just a bad dream.

A cold chill ran down his spine as his mind drifted back to the crime scene. Was the person he saw really the Hound? He casted a paranoid glance around the room as he reminded himself that he was safe, that he was in his own sanctuary and that the Hound couldn't harm him. They had dispatched a police officer to watch the skeleton's apartment in case he were to leave town or if the killer wanted to clean up. He didn't get to talk much with the police officer since he was too tired and frightened to strike up a conversation.

He turned his body and let his legs fall off the side of the bed as he stood up. He wore a slightly baggy shirt (everything was baggy on him since he was quite literally made up of bones) and a pair of navy sweatpants. He made his way to his small kitchen, his feet making slight clattering noises as they moved over the hardwood floor. He walked over to the wooden counter, already spotting the container of coffee grounds already out. He messed around in the kitchen for a little before finally starting his coffee. He tapped his finger on the counter as he thought the cop would appreciate a cup of coffee. He might already have a cup of coffee. The skeleton thought to himself as he let doubt worm its way in. He decided he would just keep to himself instead of going out of his way to talk to the officer. He felt more comfortable with that.

He turned his back to the coffee maker, trudging through the small kitchen towards the small living room. The lights were still off, the only light coming from the window by the small one-person table. He liked the lights being off, sometimes they were just too bright. He pulled himself over towards the window, moving the thin curtain to the side so he could peek outside. The sidewalks were that busied, seeing a pedestrian every now and then. Anyone of them could be the killer. Could be pretending just to be a normal citizen as they checked out his building so they could plot when and how they would get in to finish the job.

Suddenly he didn't really want to look outside anymore. He let the curtain go and watched it cut the image of the outside off from his line of sight. He stepped back, his fingers knitting themselves together. Fear settled itself deep within his bones again. He couldn't really remember all that had happened last night. When he explained that the officers down at the station they assumed it was his mind trying to protect him by locking up his memories. It's very common to those who experience something traumatic.

His hands slithered over one another, feeling the scrape marks that indented his palms from when he fell. That might've been the only thing that reminded him that what had happened wasn't just some nightmare. He turned his palms upwards as he peered down. His hands ached as he eyes the indentations. They would heal of course but he tended to get hurt quite a lot. A perfect example of that was when he had stubbed his toe last week on his bedpost and it ended up breaking. The hospital staff became very well acquainted with him since the time he's moved in

The sound of a knock brought the skeleton back from his mind. He turned his head towards the door, watching it intensely. Had the killer saw where he escaped to last night? How did they find his room? Did they see him from the window? His thoughts raced through his mind as adrenaline pumped into his veins. He fell into a cold sweet, his hearing zoning in and trying to make out any other sound from the other side of the door. Another knock ripped through the room, followed by a voice.

"It's the police!" The voice announced, a little muffled by the wooden door. The skeleton nervously took a step forward towards the door. After a second he began to take a few more quiet steps til he pressed his palms against the cold wood. He leaned his head forward, his 'heart' hammering against his ribs. He looked into the peephole. The man on the other side was fairly tall, dark toned skin- maybe a few shades darker than almond-, thick brown curls that hugged the bottom of his jawline and the sides of his face. The two important details he noticed were the police uniform and the two eyes that glanced from the door to each end of the hallway. The guy on the other side of the door wasn't the serial killer.

The skeleton released a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against the door for a second before pulling the door chain off the wall. He turned the second lock, here the soft click when he did so. His hand clamped around the cold metal doorknob, pulling the door up slowly. He peeked his head off to the side, still cautious of the other. His left palm was gripping the edge of the door as his right hand was still pressed up against the door. The male on the other side smiled once he noticed the door was opened.

"Howdy! I hope I didn't wake you up, I just wanted to check in" His voice was fruity, which calmed the skeletons jitters a little more. His eyes were perfect, they looked like warm caramel that commercials showed for caramel filled candy. A small black dot that you could easily overlook was settled in the lower part of his right eye. The edges of his lips tugged upwards as he gave a toothy grin. Four teeth on the top row were sharp. The cop in front of his door was a vampire.

Vampires weren't very known to be in law enforcement. They tended to stick to jobs in the medical section, better access to bagged blood- or fresh blood. The male stammered slightly as he realized he had just been staring at the cop instead of replying.

"Ah yea...I'm doing okay, thank you" His words came out taunt and meek. He cleared his throat lightly so the next time he spoke, it wouldn't be so quiet. His fingers on his right hand scratched at the door in slight embarrassment. The vampire gave a small nod at the reply. Before the vampire could reply, the skeleton added a little more. "I didn't...catch your name.." He began to worry half way through his sentence that it was a bad idea to ask for it. Though his doubts were eased when he saw the smile on the vampire grow a little.

"Aki, Aki Linscott" He proudly announced. He raised a brow and gave a small tilt to his head. "I never actually caught yours, sorry" He apologized lightly, his hands resting on his hips. The skeleton widened his eyes lightly as he realized he never actually gave his first AND last name to the officers down at the station. He had only given his first name since he was still a babbling mess. It was kind of embarrassing now that he though back on it.

"Oh it's Milo...Uh- Myrah- my last name is Myrah" He stammered to make his sentence clear. Aki reached his hand out towards Milo, his expression friendly and welcoming. Milo was still cautious of the other, his shoulders tensing up slightly at the action. He kinda reminded him of an overly excited dog that was meeting another of his kind at the dog park. It was kinda cute. His shoulders relaxed once again as the image of the dog popped into his head once again. He didn't really seem treacherous

"Well it's nice to meet you Milo!" He gushed, a little sparkle happening in his eyes. Everytime Aki spoke, he felt a little more comfortable. Milo reached his frail hand out and wrapped it around Aki's more muscular and warmer one. Both parties shook their hands slightly. Aki's grip was more profound while Milo's was weak and vulnerable. Milo could spot a few scars on the officer's arms, a few hard to see while others were bold. One scar traveled from the inside of his left forearm, traveling upwards under his sleeve. He became a little curious about the scar, did he get it on the job or maybe sometime before?

"Mhm...Same here"

Word count: 2k

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tjhinton10 · 1 year

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caroline-in-paris · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Old Navy cozy cardigan black M.

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gothparker · 5 years

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In that moment, the sky broke open, just a bit. The sun's rays dusted over Peter’s pale cheeks, surreptitiously at first, then all at once as they started to illuminate his irises as the light bled deeply into the darkness of his eyes. The bicolored brown was so stark against each other, reminding Tony of Peter’s own duality with his head and his heart. He wasn’t sure which the darker color represented out of the two.

———

With some mild convincing, Peter had managed to drag Tony away from his work to go into the park with him. The boy had mentioned that there was this special place within the public area that was somehow secret. It was his plot of land, and his alone. Tony of course didn’t believe him, but naturally, he humored Peter.

“It’s like- it’s like!” Peter flailed his arms a little in excitement. “That old book, The Secret Garden! Have you ever read that? I had to read it in eight grade. I thought it was really cool. It reminded me of when I used to collect rolly pollie’s and eat them like tic tacs while digging holes in the ground with a coffee spoon.”

“Peter, that is disgusting.”

The boy huffed, then pouted as Tony snorted in amusement.

It was a dark day as the clouds were tight knit, keeping the rain at bay before the pressure swelled up too much within their heavy chests. It flowed past their gullets like tears dripping off a chin, over and over, again and again until its slow stop. As long as there was a sky, it would rain. As long as there was sadness, there were tears to be shed. That’s just the natural order of things. An order Peter memorized by heart in his early life

“I needed a day out, honestly. I’ve been thinking about some things.”

“Oooh what things?”

Tony inhaled deeply through his nose before he replied.

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

Somehow, that satisfied the boy as he grabbed Tony’s wrist and dragged him to the outskirts of the park where very few people ventured. He led him past some brush and brambles, through a rusty gate and onto a worn out path.

“You...have your tetanus shot...right…”

“Ummm, maybe as a baby. I’m not sure. I dunno if I was ever vaccinated as a kid.” Peter muttered, uninterested as he led a dumbfounded Tony onwards.

“Tetanus means-”

“Ohh, lockjaw! Yeah, yeah, the man online that looks like he’s flexing? He doesn’t have a penis. Haha.”

“What on earth are you talking about. What have you been looking at? What man?”

Peter somehow didn’t hear him, he was mumbling to himself as there was a fork in the road.

“I think it’s this way.” He muttered, squinting his eyes.

“You come out here often, how are you possibly lo- Peter. Are we lost.”

“Umm...”

“Peter?”

“No! We’re fine...”

The boy gnawed gently on his bottom lip before he chose a path, leading the man on as he giggled. Tony wasn’t annoyed, god, he could never be annoyed with the kid.

Concerned? Yes. Irritated, no.

His thoughts were cut off as Peter bounced in placed, a large grin on his face.

“We’re here!” He looked like an excited puppy as he trotted off to an old gazebo, Tony meandering behind him as he looked around.

“Cool, right?” Petter paced around Tony in circles as the man stood in place.

“Yes, very.” He smiled, peering around the wooden structure as he stepped inside.

Tony stilled suddenly, ceasing his movements as he stumbled upon a patch of violets flowing from the natures debris, intertwined with the fencing. Spur of the moment, the older man picked off a couple, which puzzled Peter until he turned to him.

“Here.” He mumbled, dotting flowers across Peter’s hair as he threaded them through the softness.

It took a couple moments before he was content, and when he was, he stepped back a little to look over his work.

“Beautiful.”

Tony looked so proud of himself as he smirked, gazing lovingly over his piece of art that he haphazardly created out of something equally breathtaking as the boy in front of him.

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Peter commented quietly, a tiny smile on his pretty face.

“Like you.”

Tony’s heart stopped as the compliment slipped from his twisted tongue, but the boy didn’t seem to find the words disturbing.

The younger of the two blushed, color spreading across his soft cheeks as he breathed a breathy laugh.

“Really, though?”

“Really.”

Peter pouted softly in a teasing manner, a satirical indicator that he didn’t believe him.

“My turn!”

Peter tentatively plucked the violets next to them, delicately placing them around Tony’s salt and pepper hair as he smiled warmly, tip toeing in front of the man. He seemed to be having fun as he threaded marvelous flowers into his canvas.

Tony just looked at him, a little blown away at how beautiful Peter looked when he was like this. How his eyes lit up when he was around the genius, his toothy smile when they were together, his body language that Tony found so homely. It was all a lot to take in at once.

“Almost done.” Peter said in a soft voice, his higher pitch sounding so lovely to the other.

“Aha, how do you like it?” Tony smiled at him as the boy stepped back, gently bouncing in place a bit.

“Wonderful.” Peter bit his bottom lip before it spread into a smile, his hands coming up in a praying motion as the tips of his fingers delicately pressed against his lips

The soft amber reminded the older man of moths waltzing around the lamp lights at night. All while the gentle giants in the sky fed off a supple and simple diet of stars and navy moonlight at the sound of passing cars early in the foggy mornings.

Peter’s sadness sewed his eyes shut and shoved cotton into his ears, pouring hot wax across his lips as it dared him to cry out in pain towards the others around him, encouraging him to lash out blindly amongst his peers. But here, here he was calm, soft, loving, a gentle tide in his own sea which seemed to be storm heavy more often than he’d like to admit.

A hurricane can’t run from its own rain, and it can’t be controlled or withheld before its time. Tony knew that, and so did Peter.

However, the genius was built on the strongest and most brutal of bedrock. The pesky grains of grit that weighed his inner doubts down had been swept away previously by his boy’s oncoming winds that came with needs and pleading. He had to be strong, so he was. He moved his roots deeper, past the soil and dirt, the soft footing and sand. Tony went deep, until he reached the heart of the earth that refused to be covered in weeds.

It was strong, and it was hot, yet it appears dark. You know the heart exists, you can’t see it, but you feel it. You feel it pulse in your head from pain, you feel it ache in your chest from heartbreak, you feel it in shockwaves down to your lungs out of repressed loved, and you feel it ripping open your gut and letting the fear stumble out like a newborn calf.

The earth graces us with her colors as our insides grace her with ours, vultures picking and prying into the carcass past our crushed ribs. We return to the earth, whether you value the weight of your life or not.

And here, their outsides were dazzled with colors that were represented while worn through their hair as their cheeks were flushed and their eyes hazy with love.

“God.” Tony breathed, looking over Peter’s face as he felt his heart hammer inside of him. “You are truly, truly heaven sent.”

He stepped closer to the other, who in return stepped closer to him.

“What did you need to think about?” Peter whispered, gazing at Tony through half lidded eyes. “Why did you come with me?” He searched his face for something that would satiate his need for an answer.

“Because I…” Tony placed his hands on Peter’s hips, gently pulling him closer as they both felt like they were in a trance.

“I just…”

“Yes?”

“I think...I think I’m in love with you.”

Peter’s breath hitched softly, his hands coming up to rest on Tony’s chest.

“Do you think?” He murmured softly. “Or do you know?”

Tony rested his forehead against Peter’s, who closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

“I know.”

“Then show me.” He whispered.

Tony’s soft lips gently pressed onto Peter’s for a long moment, a hand coming up from his hip to Peter’s cheek as he cupped his face, bringing him up closer to his own. He kissed him tenderly, taking his time as the boy’s hands came up to rest on Tony’s shoulders.

The older man pulled away slowly after a long moment, exhaling gently as he opened his eyes.

“How do you feel?” He asked quietly, too dazed to ask deep questions at the moment, so he asked the most blatant.

His head felt like it was flooding with serotonin, it sloshed out of his skull and ran down his cheeks in the form of tears that he had to consciously fight back. Tony looked down at Peter, who still had his eyes closed, a small smile ghosting over him.

He felt like he had severed his tongue and separated his sternum from his chest.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say, and my insides feel funny.” Peter murmured, his hand coming up to his own chest. “But it...feels...good.”

“That’s good?” Tony laughed in a breathy tone as his eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s good.”

The man inhaled softly, then exhaled loudly as he closed his eyes in contentment. He buried his face into Peter’s shoulder as Tony held him close.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony made a faint noise of acknowledgement.

“I...I really, really just…”

Peter exhaled shakily.

“I don’t reach out for help because I hate these hands. But I really...really need you. I need you. I-...love you.” He mumbled before swallowing.

“I’m just so scared I’ll hurt you.” He breathed, Tony could feel his frame tremble slightly.

“You would never do that.” The older man raised his head to look Peter in the face. He cupped his cheeks as he rested his forehead against the others.

“You would never.”

Peter wanted to slay Tony’s beast, but he found out it lives inside of him. The boy wanted to tear up his stem once he found out he was only a weed.

“I am so scared of hurting you.” The boy’s voice shook slightly as he gripped Tony tightly.

“You would never, you could never.”

Peter pulled his face away slightly, his eyes brimming with salt water that was about to gush down his flushed cheeks.

“The day I stop loving you is the day fire says “enough wood”. You are so lovely to me, how did the world come up with someone so perfect?” He kissed Peter gently for a moment.

“I never want to let you down.” Peter’s thumbs rubbed soft circles on the older man’s cheeks.

“You have my heart in your hands, you have it all. Please be gentle with it.”

“You have my word.” He whispered before pressing his lips back on Tony’s.

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

They both smiled, foreheads resting on each other’s as they held hands. Tony whispering sweet nothings as he kissed over Peter’s face for the rest of the afternoon, his place now their place, together.

#starker #peterxtony #ironspider #looking up lockjaw there’s this painting of a dude and it looks so fucking funny oh my god #wiki be like 🥴🔫#y’all 2 scared to say pete’s autistic but i speak the truth and everybody else knows it🚶‍♂️#story time with charlie

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