#I was listening to World Burn from the mean girls musical while I drew them so

[really-sleep-deprived-nerd]

@chrisrin 's gemcyt au has been living in my head rent free and I wanted to try and draw a fusion of the gaslight, gatekeep & girlboss trio (Cleo, Scott and Pearl)

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Three

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drugging and sexual assault. Small bit of violence.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Three - Hunger

Bucky had been awake most of the night watching Y/N sleep soundly on his lap but eventually his tiredness took over and he fell asleep himself. When he opened his eyes to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, he immediately looked down to see Y/N not there anymore. There was a small bubble of panic as he got up quickly, walking to the kitchen to see Peggy with a mug of coffee. Without a word, she pointed to the front door with a smile to let him know where Y/N was. Bucky gave a soft smile of thankfulness before making his way to the front door, opening it as his eyes fell on Y/N’s back as she sat on the porch steps. He froze in that moment, listening her hum the tune to their song. Was she remembering bits and pieces? He slowly moved to sit next to to her.

Y/N stopped humming when she noticed Bucky sit by her, looking at him quickly. She had a banana on her lap with a cut through it and was practicing sutures on it with tweezers in her hands that held the needle and thread, “Good morning, sleepy head.” She said with a smile towards him before returning her focus on her practice sutures, “You ever wake up with a song in your head that feels like it’s your favorite song but can’t remember it? Because I cannot get this song out of my head and I can’t look it up because I don’t know the words, just the tune.”

Bucky smiled over at her, watching as she threaded the needle through the peel of the banana and suture the peel back together with black thread, “Everyday darlin’,” He told her. Their song had been stuck in his head on repeat since the night they found it. It was one of his favorite memories. Y/N had snuck out with him and they went to a field on his dirt bike. He had brought a blanket so they could watch the stars together while the little radio he had played music. He kissed her for the first time to the song Hunger by Ross Copperman. It had been stuck in his head from that moment on, like a theme song to their relationship, “Is the banana going to make it?”

Y/N giggled a little bit, “I think so. I’m a very good surgeon.” She told him as she tied a knot onto the last suture and put the tweezers down in her lap as well, “There. He should live a long life of 24 hours before he turns to mush.” She looked back at him, running her eyes along his facial features. She had never seen a smile so sincere that she could remember, “I’m practicing so eventually I can go back to work at the hospital. From what Steve says, I have a very good reputation there as their old trauma surgeon and they’d be happy to have me back. Plus I still have all my memories when it comes to medicine and surgical procedures which should help.”

“That’s great.” Bucky told her, happy that she was still pursuing the thing she had dreamed about since she graduated. Y/N was still her, even without her memories. He couldn’t help but wish the things she remembered were him and the love they had between them. It was an epic love and Bucky wanted that back, “I should probably head home and change into some clean clothes. I’ll be back later to replace the fan in your room so you can sleep soundly.”

Y/N looked at him, observing him as he spoke. She could see something in his eyes that didn’t want to leave. Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to leave her. She bit her lip, “I was actually thinking, since we were so close before, maybe seeing your place would bring back some memories. Plus Peggy already said they didn’t have anything for breakfast.” She smiled at him, “Do you have breakfast supplies? I can cook while you change and stuff.”

Bucky grinned at her idea, it was just what he wanted. Her to come home with him, “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He told her, knowing he had supplies for her favorite food already. He had gone to the store as soon as he heard she was coming home, buying all her favorite things to eat in case she remembered him and came back home, “You think you remember how to make blueberry pancakes?”

Y/N scrunched her nose as if trying to think of the steps on how to cook, “Nope.” She said with a large pucker of her lips on the sound of the ‘p,’ “But I’m a surgeon. I can figure out how to make pancakes… probably.” She said with a small laugh before licking her lips and staring at him, “Does this mean you’re taking me home on your motorcycle?”

Bucky stood and smiled down at her, “Oh no, I still think you need some more time after I found you walking down the street in the middle of the night. I just live a street down, we can walk it isn’t far.” As much as he would like to take her home on his bike, he didn’t want to rush things with her and knew Steve wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.

Y/N nodded, a little sad she wasn’t going to be able to remember the feeling Bucky had told her about when she rode with him but was happy to adventure out of the four walls of Steve’s home. She stood by him for a moment before opening the door and telling Peggy she was going with Bucky and she was alright before turning back to the dark haired man, “Lead the way, Bucky.” She told him with a smile and a wave of her hand, following as he walked, “I’m curious, tell me more about this girl you loved.”

Bucky looked at her as he walked down the sidewalk beside her, “Love.” He corrected, “I still love her and I always will.” He stared at her for a moment as if waiting for her to say it back before connoting, “We were a very unlikely match, total opposites. I already told you she was smart, I have no idea how she fell in love with me. I was a mess, always getting in fights and causing trouble. When she came into my life, she was like the little angel that appeared on my shoulder that helped me choose the right path to go down.” He smiled at the memories, “But she always told me I was the one that made her feel truly alive, like the world was brighter and made sense. She calmed my wild soul and I brought out the wild in her’s.” He had rambled on the whole time they walked, not being able to stop himself until they were in his driveway, “Home, sweet, home.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Bucky talk about the woman he loved. It was obvious he was still completely and undeniably in love with her. She looked at the house, taking in its features when they stopped, “It’s a pretty house.” She complimented before following him inside. She watched Bucky hurry and pick up a shoe box on the coffee table, taking it into what she assumed was his bedroom. Curiosity sparked in her as it seemed like Bucky didn’t want her to see it and that made her want to know more but wouldn’t pry. She went to the kitchen, “Okay… Pancakes..” She said to herself as she closed her eyes tightly trying to remember the ingredients. When she opened them, Bucky was already pulling out all the ingredients with a smile on his lips, “Thank you. I’ll try not the screw it up.”

Bucky watched her scan over the ingredients and when he saw she didn’t remember where to start, he pulled out a notebook. Y/N always wrote down the recipes she loved. It helped Bucky cook a few meals for her when she got home from working at the hospital, “Here’s the recipe. You got this.” He encouraged, “I’m going to take a quick shower. Try not to burn the house down.” He said as he started walking out of the kitchen and down a hallway towards the bathroom.

Y/N watched him go before scanning her eyes over the recipe. She tilted her head as she recognized it as her own hand writing. She bit her lip lost in thought for a moment, trying to put puzzle pieces together. She finally snapped out of it and looked at the ingredients nodding to herself, “Alright, Y/N. You know how to do a double lung transplant. You can make blueberry pancakes.” She encouraged herself. She wondered around the kitchen, finding pans and utensils to help and started the mission of making breakfast.

Bucky came out to find Y/N flipping pancakes with extreme focus on her face as if it was a life or death situation which made him smile. He wore dark jeans with a short sleeved black shirt that showed off his tattooed left arm. He walked into the kitchen, gently taking the spatula from Y/N who looked grateful that he was taking over, “They look delicious. I’ll finish up.” He told her, adding the blueberries and flipping the pancakes.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when Bucky took over, stepping back and hoping up onto the counter as she watched him closely, observing every move he made while he cooked. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him, something about him drew her towards him. She ran her eyes up and down his figure, biting her lip as she took in every part of him. Y/N was very observant and when she saw the small red heart tattoos between the rest of his ink, her eyes narrowed. She recognized them as her own which made her curiosity grow. When she first woke up after having the bullet removed, the doctors had her draw shapes and write her name to make sure she still had the ability to write and those hearts looked exactly like the ones she had drawn.

Bucky turned to look at Y/N, seeing her looking at his tattoos. He wondered if it was sparking anything to remember him. He held two plates of pancakes in his hands which he set down on the table gently before pulling out the syrup and pulling out a chair for Y/N, “Breakfast is served.”

Y/N took a seat in the chair Bucky pulled out for her, “Thank you.” She said with a smile towards him, picking up the syrup and slathering enough on to cause a toothache, but she always had a sweet tooth. She licked her lips slightly at the view before digging in.

Bucky kept his promise to Y/N, replacing the fan in her bedroom with a small chandelier which made her smile when it sparkled in the light. Y/N got to know Bucky better. He was over everyday entertaining her but as much as she brought up the idea of Bucky taking her on a ride, he would deny it and his reason was that Steve wouldn’t like it. Y/N was smart and everyday she spent with Bucky and listened to him talk about the girl he once loved, the puzzle pieces slowly started to be put together in her mind. She had a feeling by the way he talked and spoke to her that she may be this mystery woman that he had broken the heart of but she wouldn’t know unless she asked. One day at dinner with Steve and Peggy, Y/N finally built up the courage to confront her brother on her thoughts, “Stevie, did Bucky and I use to date?” She said out of the blue.

Peggy and Steve both almost choked on their food at the question, sharing a look. Steve looked at Y/N trying to keep a straight face, “What.. Why would you ask that?” Y/N bit her lip, narrowing her eyes at their reaction. She was pretty sure she was given her answer by the way they choked on their food. Or she was dead wrong and they couldn’t believe her question, “Just some things I’ve noticed. He has a recipe book in my handwriting at his house and the heart tattoos look like hearts I draw.” She said, giving him a short list instead of talking about the way Bucky looks and speaks to her. The way he made her feel.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find a good answer so looked to Peggy with pleading eyes for help.

Peggy looked at Steve then smiled gently at Y/N, “You should talk to Bucky about that, honey.” She said simply.

Y/N frowned a little at them, her eyes flickering between the two, “Why can’t you just tell me?”

They both stayed silent for a moment as if trying to think of a good answer, glancing at each other and their food trying to avoid eye contact with Y/N who was staring at them intently.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, standing up, “I’m not going to break.” She told them with bitterness in her voice before walking towards the front door. She grabbed her small backpack and a jacket, pulling it over her figure and opening the front door, “Don’t report me as missing person!” She called back before exiting the home. She walked down the street, muttering words under her breath in frustration towards her brother. Why couldn’t he just answer the question? It bothered her and she wanted answers about who she was and who she was to Bucky. Y/N found herself walking into a bar, smiling slightly when she saw someone she recognized sitting at the bar from the BBQ, Sam. Y/N hoped up on the stool next to him, “Hi. Sam, right?”

Sam looked at her, holding a bottle of beer in his hands, “Y/N! Yeah, Sam.” he smiled at her. He had known her for a few years, he was one of Steve’s army friends, “Whatcha doin here?”

Y/N shrugs, “Brothers being annoying. Needed to get away for a little bit. Do you know what kind of alcohol I like?” She asks with a tilt of her head. She remembered she has drank before but couldn’t remember what she enjoyed.

“Tequila. Lots of tequila.” Sam remembered with a small laugh, “You said it got you through your surgical internship.” He waved his hand at the bartender, “Can we get a tequila shot?” To which the bartender nodded and placed it in front of Y/N with a lime.

Y/N narrows her eyes at the liquid in the shot glass in front of her with a lime resting on the top, “Okay, so lime first or second?”

Sam chuckled, picking up the lime and putting it on his napkin, “You don’t like the lime.” He reminded before watching her take the shot and her nose crinkle, “Just like old times.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose at the sting then let out a small laugh, “Yup. That is definitely something I would fall in love with.” She looked away from Sam as another man sat next to her with a smile. She didn’t recognize him but from the look on his face it seemed like he knew her from how comfortable he was to come up to her.

“Hey, pretty girl.” The short haired dark man said to her. He had a sharp jaw that matched his sharp cheek bones with some stubble for a beard, “It’s been a while.”

Y/N bit her lip at the new man, “I’m sorry… I don’t remember who you are.” She told him, “I lost my memories on deployment from an injury so you’re going to have to reintroduce yourself.” She added quickly as to not hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiles at her before holding out his hand, “Brock Rumlow. We used to hang out, or at least you came to one of my parties when we were younger. It was fun.”

Y/N scrunched her nose in thought, “Nope, sorry don’t remember. But it’s nice to meet you again.” She smiled at him. She hadn’t noticed Sam glaring at the man and didn’t notice when he got up and walked away to make a call.

Sam stood away from as many people as he could, dialing a number on his phone and pressing it to his ear as he watched Y/N talk to Brock who was buying her another shot of tequila, “Hey, Buck. It’s Sam…. I’m at the Howlin’ Cammandos bar with Y/N…. She said her brother was being annoying and wound up here, I don’t know man. Listen, Rumlow just came over and reintroduced himself to her…. Yes, Brock Rumlow the one you and Steve told me about…. He’s buying her shot after shot… Alright, I’ll stay close to her..” He hung up the phone, shaking his head before returning to his spot beside Y/N, listening to Brock put all the moves on her while she laughed like it was the first time she had heard his cheesy pick-up lines which Sam determined was because she couldn’t remember hearing them before.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to walk through the doors, immediately grabbing Brock by his shoulder to turn him around before landing a hard punch straight to his nose. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him up against the bar, “I told you to never come near her again!” He growled out at Brock before landing a punch to Brock’s cheek followed by another. He wasn’t holding back, he was putting everything he had into every punch.

Y/N jumped a little at the sight, her jaw falling open as she watched Bucky punch Brock. She looked at Sam as if it say ‘help’ and watched as Sam got up and separated the two, pushing Brock out the door telling him to get out of here. Y/N looked at Bucky once Sam had gotten rid of Brock, “What the hell, Bucky?” She said to him.

Bucky turned his angry stare to Y/N after watching Sam drag Brock out the doors, “C’mon. I’m taking you home.” He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her outside. Sam was standing out there, watching as Brock’s car pulled out onto the street before heading back inside with a nod towards Bucky. Bucky kept pulling Y/N towards his motorcycle, passing her a helmet, “Put it on.”

Y/N held the helmet in her hands for a moment before setting it down on the seat of his Harley, “No. Not until you tell me what that was all about.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, picking up the helmet again and holding it out to her, “Put it on, Y/N. I’m taking you home.” He said again in a more stern voice.

Y/N folded her arms instead of taking the helmet, frowning at him. She was already irritated at Steve and now she felt like she was being babysat by Bucky, “Talk or I walk.”

Bucky stared at her, knowing that look. She was stubborn and she would walk away from him if he didn’t spill what he knew, “Fine, Y/N. When you were eighteen you went to a party at Brock’s house because we got in a fight. You thought he slipped something in your drink and called me right away. I got there just in time to find his hands all over you in his bedroom while you were passed out but it hadn’t gone any further than him copping a feel. I told him if he ever came near you again, I’d kill him.” He sighs, “Now you’re back with no memories and he would’ve taken advantage of that. He’s not a good person, Y/N.”

Y/N looked suddenly saddened as Bucky spoke, her lips parting a little in shock. That was something she rather not remember and was partly grateful she wouldn’t have that memory living inside her brain. She looked down, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She apologized. She sighed deeply before dropping her hands to her sides, “I asked Steve something tonight and he wouldn’t answer me. Peggy said I should talk to you about it.”

Bucky’s couldn’t help but frown as Y/N looked sad, that was something he didn’t want her to remember. It was an awful memory for both of them and Bucky had never felt such rage when he saw Brock’s hands all over her. He had beaten Brock to a pulp, almost unrecognizable and he would’ve again tonight if Sam wasn’t there to stop him, “What is it, doll?” He asks in a gentle tone, knowing whatever she had asked Steve was bothering her.

Y/N ran her tongue along her lips for a moment, not daring to look at Bucky. She wanted to know and she felt like she already knew the answer from all the hints Bucky had given her. Half of her didn’t want to ask but the tequila was giving her courage and the need to know was overwhelming, “Am I the girl you talk about? The one you still love?”

[darkistmalfoyhead]

My Little Ghost~ Ficlet

Draco Malfoy hated Hogwarts. Absolutely loathed it. Yet when he found an old, dusty piano tucked in between several writing desks he felt quite happy for the first time in a while. Some of the best memories he had was teaching piano to his little cousin, Grace who made insufferable family dinners bearable.

It was the witching hour, where reality faded away and there was nothing but him and the music. Time had no meaning and his hands danced until they shook from strain. The sad looking piano was his little friend. But it creaked and groaned, skipping several chords so the day after he began the daunting task of fixing the rusted thing. After the others went to sleep he toiled, back sore and sweat dripping down his face by the end of the night.

Yet as the days drew by, he made no progress whatsoever. If anything he’d made it worse. However one evening there was a curious stack of books on a desk. He flipped through them. Vanishing rust, transfiguring ivory and polishing spells. Who had done this? Maybe Madame Pince didn’t hate him as much as she let on. Draco grinned and returned to work.

The very next day he left a plate of cookies on her desk and a girl snorted. Granger. He shot her a glare.

The treats must have worked because the books kept coming. By third year the piano was completely fixed and the stacks became filled with music theory and classical pieces. He dutifully played through them all.

Draco didn’t feel so alone anymore but the weariness never left him. His hands grew calloused and worn. Maybe it was because of the swirling whooshes of air that always passed by him as he practiced or the gentle sound of whispered breathing but he pretended that he was playing for the ghosts, the ones who were forgotten. Six years later raw agony coursed through his veins. The Dark Lord killed his sweet cousin for being ‘too soft’.

And it was all his fault. Why?

Because she had been caught practicing the piano instead of working, playing a tune that was for ‘children’.

He tried to break his fingers, to burn away the beauty he’d created just for her that became the cause of her death. Everything in the world seemed to work against him. But the quiet ghost of the library stopped him, always watching and never leaving. And slowly, ever so slowly, the boy who spiraled down came to a halt.

But it wasn’t Madame Pince with her sour expression who helped him. There was another girl, a first-year who was brushed aside by everyone else and left in the shadows. She would often borrow Harry’s cloak and wander the library, happily running through the shelves.

One day, however, she wasn’t alone. The pretentious Malfoy had wandered in, the very same boy who called her filthy names. She debated hexing him. How dare he take her only sanctuary from her.

Yet for the first time she had seen something other then pure arrogance on his face. His eyes were wide, filled with a quiet wonder as he lifted the lid of the forgotten piano she had walked by many times.

And then he started to play. The notes were wobbly at first, the pianoforte creaking as his hands moved but soon they began to dance, slowly but surely.

She’d left the world in that moment, the time he touched the instrument and made something beautiful out of the weathered old thing. Hermione tried playing after he left, tentatively pressing the still-warm keys. It sounded awful.

The next day he returned. She pretended not to notice what he did but she again would find herself listening. Maybe she cared enough to cast several tricky sound barriers- she told herself it was only to ensure Filch didn’t find them from his foolishness. Yet she made sure the barrier was large enough to cover the whole library so that she could hear the songs as well.

That was there rite for the next few years. As the lanky little Slytherin became leaner and taller, she would take the cloak and run to the library, doing homework amidst the archives and leave tomes that would help whatever was troubling him.

Because seeing the cold, calculating Draco Malfoy with a soft smile on his face as he hummed in tune made him so utterly human she couldn’t resist but stay for him.

And as the years passed, his expression became sadder and filled with exhaustion. He would talk to her, too. It always made her want to smile for he would address her as his ‘little ghost’ because she was careful to make sure he never knew her identity. Sometimes he would ramble about his day, other times it would be nonsensical chatter.

But one night slammed his hands against the keys, creating a primal, ugly sound. He doubled over, grimacing in pain. She still didn’t know why she did it, why she held her enemy. But Hermione Granger wrapped her arms around his torso, pinning his hands before he could do further damage and letting the boy sag into her arms.

Two lonely souls finding refuge among the must of pages, bound by the music and comfort they brought one another. The next day it was all gone as both awoke to worlds that were no longer in there control. Mornings were dark and lonesome, evenings the only time when her blood thrummed, when his fingers danced with happiness.

She silently cried in the bathroom after Malfoy had split her book bag in the hallway, gritting her teeth. There was a danger of growing accustomed to the soft, sweet boy in the library. She had started to forget the monster he hid behind during the day. After everything she’d done for him, felt for him he still didn’t know. Would never know. Because she was so afraid of that smile he gave only to the quiet ghost would disappear if he saw the muggleborn that she was.

Yet a persona she’d gazed upon many nights tentatively stepped into the girl’s bathroom. Shocked, she froze, unsure of what he was playing at in there sixth year. Was he there for more? To torment her, humiliate her because she tolerated it due to her stupid unrequited love?

Those familiar, long fingers delicately pinched a tattered cloak. It was Harry’s. Oh no. No, no, no, no. She’d left it in the library last night.

Hermione paled, reaching for her wand as he came closer, his face unreadable. Does he know? Is he going to hurt me?

Instead he slumped beside her, his arm dangling over his knee. The two, gray storms looked at her with such a bitterness she nearly recoiled. His hand found it’s way around her shoulder, the other crumpling the cloak. She cursed her beating heart as she stared at him with mixed fear and delight.

I’m so sorry, my little ghost, he murmured, eyes filled with anguish. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She inhaled sharply, not daring to breath.

He knew. And he didn’t hate her.

So she curled into a ball, making herself as small as possible and leaned against the broken boy’s chest. Idle arms wrapped around her and she heard something muttered about ‘payback’. But she could feel his stiffness, for she knew he’d never imagined that it would be her.

In fact, Hermione wondered why he hadn’t asked the question yet.

Why didn’t you tell me? It was quiet, barely audible. There it was. She felt his arms grow tense, his reflex to fear the worst that she’d observed over the years.

Because I thought you deserved to be happy.

He shuddered, his lips grazing her ear.

I was your tormentor. And yet you still though about me? Draco pressed his face into the nape of her neck. I hope to repay you, little ghost,

She shivered for she knew what was coming next. The hands calloused from the old piano tilted her chin, a question in his eyes. Then the world was gone, gone, gone as his mouth met hers.

It was asking if she wanted him for the broken thing he was. And she said yes, digging her fingers into the pooled fabric, arching her back as he laid himself on top of her.

The cloak would no longer be necessary in the library tonight.

[unholyhelbig]

We Sold Our Souls | 001: Beca

Summary: A small-town rock band continues to play even smaller venues well past high school graduation. Aubrey, Beca, Emily, and Chloe struggle with newfound fame and the long bloody road to get there.

[Based off of "We Sold Our Souls" By Grady Hendrix"]

Read on AO3 | Dt to the amazing @ifionlyhadmorepaper

Beca’s fingers were split and callused where Chloe’s were warm and protected. They were covered in bandages of all shapes and sizes, little adhesive papers that browned at the edges from dirt or from blood that hadn’t been dabbed away. They were wrapped, lacerated where she had pressed too hard on the velvet cords of her guitar. Beca Mitchell would play until rustic oozing syrup covered the face of the instrument.

They stung, sometimes, but right now she leaned into the numbness that the temperature in the office provided. She wanted to spread them in an equal motion over the glass of the desk so each finger lined up with a toe in her Doc Martins. Instead, she placed them calmly in her lap and stared at the silver pen that rested next to the contract.

She picked silently at the ace bandage that she had strategically wrapped around her pinky finger. It had been the newest slice; a wound still fresh to the sterile room. She was sure it would drip one, maybe two drops of red on the white linoleum.

Beca glanced up from the writing utensil and saw nothing but a suit, a slate and dull grey that blended perfectly with the rest of the room. There were no photos on the wall, nothing but a bland black leather sofa and a glass coffee table that matched the same desk they sat at now. She wanted to look through the floor to ceiling windows but saw nothing but white. Everything was white.

She was the darkest thing in the room.

Her boot tapped against, a low and thumbed rhythm. She waited for him to say something, to say anything. But she realized quickly that he may be darker than her. She could stare into the abyss that was his face, into the shadow but it would mean nothing. There were no defining features other than a crisp, business-like smile.

She had switched from pulling at the dressing of her wounds to picking at the frayed edges of her black jean jacket, littered with patches and permanent marker. Beca traced a signature that Chloe had drawn on one drunken night.

They had popped a bottle of champagne and the bubbles made the cuts on her fingers burn something fierce. But she let the golden liquid slosh onto the carpet of the hotel room, and bubble up in her throat until she couldn’t quite hold it between her lips anymore. Chloe kissed her and she tasted like weed and cherry.

It was the first night that their song was played on the radio.

The four of them huddled around a radio, its antenna stretched to the ceiling of that dingy room. The lights buzzed as much as the static, and it was close to three am; too late for the bar handlers to be heading home, and too early for the suits to be warming up their cars. But they played it- they played it.

They could quite possibly be the only four people in the entire world to hear the first song from the DEMO that Beca slid under the studio door.

When she leaned forward, the leather her pants made an ungodly noise. She didn’t’ want to read through the stack bound with a thick black clip. The first page was highlighted where she needed to initial and bolded at the most important parts; the parts that distracted her from what really mattered.

Her father was a stockbroker before he was dead, and he would tell her every single time he brought home a new contract, that they make the glittery things darker. That’s not what she was supposed to read; she was supposed to look at the little pieces of text that had stars next to them. People liked to trick you with shiny things.

Beca moved her finger across the large stack; the paper was cool to the touch and caught on the adhesive of her ace bandage. “What exactly are you offering me here?”

Summer 1985

It took her four whole months to save up for the old white Charvel that sat at the back of Shawl's pawn shop. There were bars strapped across the windows and an ugly neon orange sign that let Beca know when they were closed and when they weren’t. She would cling to those bars when old man Shawl would tell her to buy something or get the fuck out.

He stared at her even harder when she emptied the shoebox of change and crumpled up bills stained with sweat and sticky substances onto the glass counter, but even he couldn’t turn down a profit. She waited for ages while his liver-spotted hands counted the money carefully. Then he pursed his lips and pulled the beat up guitar down from his perch above his shoulder.

In later years, Beca knew she didn’t have nearly enough, and she thanked him silently for taking pity on her and passing it over anyway. She was driving all of his customers, she reasoned, by sulking on the hot sidewalk in front of the shop, letting banana flavored popsicles drip onto her fingers until it was nothing but a stick left.

She had fastened the worn leather strap around her chest and straddled her jet red bicycle. Beca had never peddled so fast in her life. The Mid-August heat clung to every inch of her was humming with sweat by the time she skidded to a stop in front of her house. She let the bike drop and got an instant hit of relief when she crossed the threshold into the open garage.

Beca scooted past the dusty Monza that barely fit in front of the door leading into their kitchen. Her mother had bought it off a stranger that came into the diner back in 78’. There were questionable stains in the backseat and an odd scent of Clorox that they could never get rid of. But it ran back and forth, and that’s all they needed.

She pulled open the honey blossom fridge and grabbed the closest thing they had to a cool drink. Beca drank tang straight from the pitcher, letting it drip down her face and soak into the collar of her shirt. She was noisy when she drank, and oblivious to her mother watching her from the archway as she tied her apron around her waist.

“We have glasses, Bec’s”

Her mother didn’t’ comment on the guitar strapped to her back. She figured that her daughter had picked up another hobby. Last year it was basketball, and the year before that she begged and begged for a set of baseball cards from the local hobby shop. After they were shoved under her bed she was told to fund her ventures on her own.

Beca swallowed the last of the orange flavoring on her tongue and took a savoring breath to fill her burning lungs. She turned to the woman and smiled “That would just dirty two things instead of one. Besides, you don’t drink this anyway.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her mother wrestled silently with the faux pearl earrings that matched the beaded necklace against her collarbone. The soft blue tone of her uniform washed out her skin and made her look pale despite the summer heat that lingered well into August.

Beca placed the glass decanter back into the bottom half of the fridge before she mock saluted her mother and wandered back out to the garage. Her skin instantly became slick with sweat. She pulled an empty milk crate a few inches from the line of the setting sun.

She finally pulled the old Charvel from her back and situated it in her arms. It was far from a perfect fit. She reached over the neck and felt the way the side dug into her ribs uncomfortably. The strings were frail and sounded rough as she dragged her thumb against them.

Beca had only learned the start of one song, the first few cords of Black Sabbath’s Tomorrows Dream. They had printed the cords on the back of the record sleeve, each specific note highlighted in a comically large dot. Beca would breathe in the dust of the garage and listen to the record on a constant loop, pressing her fingers down against the notes.

She took a deep breath and started to follow the instructions that she had completed a million times over. The strings were too tight and it sounded choppy, sharp, and thick all at once. She cringed at her half-hearted attempt and the way the cords cut so deeply into her fingertips they stung.

She ignored the old car pulling out of the garage, and the way she had to squint at the darkness after a while. There was still the sour taste of orange on her tongue and sweat dripped from her nose. But she played and played, and played until there was blood against the white face of the instrument and tears pinching at her eyes. It sounded somewhat like Black Sabbath.

“You like metal?”

Beca jerked her hand back quickly and drew in a sticky warm breath of air. She had been so wrapped up in her task that she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone anymore. A girl stood in the dull light that leaked from the garage and into the pavement. She didn’t’ quite pass the threshold- instead, she lingered.

A certain chill had invaded the air and the girl folded into herself. Her wild mane of orange hair fell around her shoulders and ghostly blue eyes lit up optimistically at the sight of a guitar.

“Uh,”

“That’s a Charvel, right? I begged my parents for one last Christmas but they got me an acoustic instead. Hooked me up with lessons from Miss Jensen. I learned one country song and started pocketing the fifty bucks a week instead.”

“Yeah,” Beca swallowed hard “It’s a Charvel”

“That’s cool,” she rocked back and forth on the souls of her sneakers. The cold didn’t’ seem to get to her much anymore. Beca tried to place her. Her ears were ringing and her fingers hurt. The crickets were hissing their own song. “You go to Kennedy don’t you?”

“I’m second year”

“I’m third.” She beamed “I live right next door, I’ve seen you around.”

Beca lifted her chin; she had seen the girl around too. It usually followed loud screaming and slamming doors. She would sit on her stoop and stare at the way her cassette player would turn. Beca had seen her flip a tape four times once- still like a statue until the music stopped and hat to be reset.

“Listen, I uh- don’t want to intrude, but maybe we could play together sometime?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” She found herself saying, the orange drink in her system making her stomach churn. She nearly felt bad, felt a pang of sadness for the girl. “I’m Beca.”

“Hi, Beca. I’m Chloe.”

Winter 1994

Beca let the case fall shut a little too loudly. The acoustics on the small stage seemed to catch all the wrong things. She couldn’t get her voice to carry earlier in the night, but the fur-lined box that they housed their amp in bounced all the way to the entry of the little venue in Portland.

She blinked hard, trying to ignore the harsh red lights that covered every single inch of the place. There were bumper stickers covering the spotty paint of the walls and a bar that was more piss and peanut shells than anything. Emily gulped down warm beer and struggled to keep it down momentarily. She didn’t look up at the noise, her stare trained on a coaster, and the crumbs that lie next to it.

Beca leaned back on her heels and pulled in a thick breath. She smelled like sweat and blood and alcohol. Her little stunt had drawn the attention of Aubrey, the woman wrapping the cord to a different amp around her forearm and palm. She narrowed her unripe stare.

“This was fucking shit,”

“I’m doing my best”

They spoke at the same time. She knew that Aubrey’s anger was buzzing, it was festering until it finally burst. She looked pale under the red lights, the same tattoo they had all gotten two years ago stretched under her tank top and down to the gap between her jeans.

She knew what Aubrey was going to say. Her best wasn’t good enough, and it never was; they had been doing this for years, eight long years and they were still playing the shit-stink venues in even shittier towns. They barely had an audience tonight, and it had all been Beca’s fault. The whole room was thinking it, but no one had the balls to say it other than Aubrey.

Chloe moved from the corner of the room, “We’ll get a better place, Bree.”

“Yeah? When? I’m tired of giving my all to an audience that doesn’t’ fucking exist. We’re not kids anymore.”

“We’re shit broke.” Emily turned in the creaky barstool, swallowing the foam at the bottom of her glass. “I don’t even think we have gas in the van.”

“How much from this gig?” Chloe asked.

Her hair was matted with sweat and her thumb pulled at the chain around her neck. It was fastened with a marbled red pick, one from their first real venue ever. She had nervously wiped away the gold lettering and now the smooth plastic was all that was left. Beca hated disappointing her, and she did it often these days.

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred? Beca that’s barely enough to cover the hotel rooms.” Aubrey let the wrapped cord fall back to the stage “We don’t break even on this. It’s not fucking worth it. It never was and it never is.”

They all knew what came next. Emily stared down a coaster she had begun to shred. The remaining foam on the glass culminated at the very bottom of the glass and she knew she couldn’t muster enough change to order another one. So she sat with the sour taste in her mouth and festered.

Aubrey would mention Julliard.

“I could have had everything.” She hissed instead.

Beca didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, she leaned down and pulled the amp up with nothing more than a grunt. Instead, she walked out into the cold Portland air and let it make her skin tighter. She blinked away the red light and searched for the keys in her pockets. She had left them inside.

[homeformyheart]

simply be mine - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: i needed to write a fluff piece after my last fic, “cottage by the sea,” and got inspiration while listening to a couple songs (see prompt line below) for a new years’ eve party fic. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles  – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 14+; descriptions of drinking  word count: 3.1k based on/prompt: “only girl in the world” by rihanna / “one and only” by adele summary: adam struggles to understand why anyone would care about human new years’ eve traditions, but when he finds out regina enjoys them, he finds himself intrigued.

simply be mine

when regina walked into the warehouse living room an hour before the agency’s new years’ eve party, she was pleasantly surprised to see unit bravo somewhat dressed up, even if they were standing around brooding like usual. she was both surprised and excited that she was invited to attend as well, without having to be someone’s plus one, even though she had been assured by both nate and farah that they would’ve invited her. she giggled internally at the memory of farah practically jumping off the walls of the warehouse living room in excitement, yelling what seemed like a hundred words per minute about going shopping and getting ready together.

she quickly learned that the rest of unit bravo hated attending agency work functions and avoided them as much as they could. however, everyone was “strongly encouraged” to attend the new years’ eve party, which she gathered from both morgan and adam that what the agency meant was “we better see you there or we’ll give you the worst cases next year.” she thought they were probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but let it slide.

perhaps to make up for the fact that they’d have to spend the night in a brightly lit and loud room for several hours with colleagues they didn’t care for, regina found that unit bravo had already started pregaming before she arrived, and they pregamed hard. she saw firsthand the sheer amount of alcohol they needed to consume just to feel a little buzzed.

another rare upside to being human, regina noted, a couple of shots of any brown liquor and she was good to go. of course, she only managed one shot of nate’s vintage prohibition-era whiskey before he snatched it away and started lecturing her on its rarity and history and had to settle for farah’s tequila.

“regina, do a shot with me!” farah practically screamed, bounding over to her with a half-empty bottle of tequila and limes in one hand and a pinch of salt in the palm of her other hand.

“who taught you how to do a tequila shot?” she asked incredulously as farah poured a generous shot for them both and handed her a lime.

“i looked it up online!” she said with such a proud look on her face that regina could only smile fondly at the person who had become her best friend on the team.

they both knocked back the shots and cringed, the salt and limes providing little relief to the burn; regina could only assume it was maybe ten times worse for farah. but then farah drained whatever was left in the bottle and let out a loud whoop before wrapping regina up in a big hug.

“i am soooooooo glad we get to celebrate with youuu!! you are the best person on this teammmmmm, after me, of course,” farah shouted and regina couldn’t help but laugh.

adam raised an eyebrow. “you mean she’s the best human on the team, don’t you, farah?”

“nopeeeeeeeeeeee. regina’s the bestttttttttt of us and you can’t convince me otherwiseeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, much to everyone else’s annoyance.

“hey farah, why don’t you put on some pre-party music?” regina suggested. farah’s eyes lit up and she sped away and disappeared before regina could blink.

she felt adam’s large presence behind her, casting a figurative shadow over her in the living room. the room was softly lit by the chandelier farah herself had selected, much to morgan’s annoyance. regina let herself lean back slightly without actually touching adam’s chest, knowing it would tempt him to wrap his hands around her waist.

except he only kept one hand hovering near her hip as he said in a low murmur, “you really shouldn’t encourage her, you know.”

the corner of her lips twitched as though it wanted to break into a smile, but regina knew adam wouldn’t appreciate being teased about being a ‘stick in the mud’ considering each member of unit bravo took their turn throughout the day telling him to lighten up.

“you know she’s not going to stop, so just let her have her fun,” she winked as a familiar song started vibrating through the walls, followed by farah’s vocals. “we’ll be heading out soon anyway.”

morgan let out a sound that was a cross between a loud huff and a growl as she stomped outside, cigarettes in hand.

“i want you to love me, like a hot ride,” farah sang out as she appeared in the living room, twirling gracefully as she leaped over the table to land in front of regina. “be thinking of me, doing what you like.”

regina laughed as adam sighed loudly, intending obviously for them to hear, before he walked over to where nate was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass of wine. she immediately missed the warmth of his body behind her, or rather, the tingle she got in her spine from the prospect of his touch. she took a long sip of her whiskey, willing herself to actually enjoy tonight and not dwell on the lack of progress between her and adam.

“come on, regina, sing with me!” farah grabbed her hand and started twirling her around, whatever was left of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass and on to the floor.

“want you to make me feel, like i’m the only girl in the world,” regina belted alongside farah, throwing her head back. “like i’m the only one you’ll ever love; like i’m the only one who knows your heart.”

farah grabbed the wine bottle on the table by nate before he could intervene and put it to her mouth like a microphone. “only girl in the worlddddd,” she crooned, before collapsing into a giggling fit on the couch, bringing regina down with her.

despite wanting to roll his eyes at farah’s antics, even nate couldn’t help but smile at how cheerful his family was and how nice it was to celebrate the holidays together.

“we should get going soon,” he said, finishing his glass of wine.

“no, wait, regina’s not dressed!” farah said, immediately standing and pulling regina up with her.

“what are you talking about? i am dressed,” regina protested, motioning toward her tailored dress pants and blouse.

farah wrinkled her nose. “oh honey, no. this is a fancy party and you need to dress like it. come on!” before she could protest further, farah had dragged her back toward her room.

* * * * * “you know, regina might appreciate it if you partake in some new years’ traditions,” nate said quietly, glancing over at his longtime friend, who was staring out the window.

adam looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “and what traditions would that be?”

nate smiled mischievously. “well, the one that seems to be really popular among humans is kissing someone at midnight.”

nate could feel adam’s shoulders tense a fraction of a second before he saw the physical movement itself. “that is an impractical and inane tradition. i would think the detective to be above such childish antics.”

now it was nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “and i think she’d appreciate the romantic gesture. it’s not childish to want to ring in the new year with someone you care for.”

before adam could retort, the sound of heels clacking along the hallway and the gentle swishing movement of fabric drew his attention toward the only thing that was capable of unraveling centuries of carefully architected walls with a single glance. regina appeared in the living room, farah’s arm looped in hers, dressed in a strapless black floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline and slit that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.

adam’s eyes followed the length of the slit; the creamy complexion of her skin drawing him in. his gaze traced the way the fabric clung to her curves, dipping at the waist before cupping her chest. her hair was styled in soft waves to one side, leaving her collarbone and neck exposed. he didn’t realize his eyes were continuing to trace the delicate lines of her neck and jaw, before they landed on her red lips. they were lighter than blood and yet, just as, if not more, enticing to him.

he watched as the corner of those luscious lips quirked up into a smirk, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his gaze shot upward to meet her teasing blue ones, not realizing that his feet seemed to move of their own accord until he was standing right in front of her.

“can i help you, commanding agent du mortain?” regina said, the low and sultry tone of her voice sending warmth south in an unfamiliar, but not wholly unpleasant way.

adam’s throat suddenly felt dry – an odd, human-like sensation that made him pause, until he realized that regina was suddenly very close. too close. he inwardly begged his legs to take a step back, but they wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.

“your… dress. it’s impractical. what if you were to get attacked?” he said slowly after clearing his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

regina smiled and gazed up at him knowingly, a look that was both infuriating and intoxicating. as though she could read every piece of his soul back to him and love all of him anyway.

“don’t worry, i have my volt gun strapped to my thigh, see?” she reached for his hand, her touch sending a jolt up his arm that would worry him for medical reasons if he were human, but instead was stoking a deep primal urge within him as she moved it toward the back of her thigh.

the familiar rectangular gun was firm underneath his fingers and even though regina had let go of his hand, he held on, not quite allowing himself to graze her skin, but feeling her body heat at the tips of his fingertips all the same.

“besides, i know you all will be keeping an eye on me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. adam could hear the flutter of each lash against the air and found himself wondering how they’d feel against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.

“of course, i— i mean, we, won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, moving his hand back behind him, flexing it once before resuming his stance.

“well, i only care that you are keeping an eye on me, commanding agent,” she said, giving him a flirty wink before putting on her coat and following farah out to the car.

adam let out an audible groan and rubbed his face with his hands. nate clasped a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see his best friend was smirking at him.

“it’s okay. but if you’re going to pretend like there’s nothing between you all night, then you won’t mind if we all take turns dancing with her, right?” his smile only widened as adam’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. “come on or we’ll be late.”

* * * * * adam stood, tense and rigid, in a corner of the ballroom near the balcony doors with morgan, who ducked out every so often when the lights and sounds got to be too much, while nate and farah took turns dancing with regina. it baffled him how an entire room full of trained agents could let themselves potentially be compromised by partaking in such celebratory activities. even his own team, although he would admit only to himself that they needed the break.

farah loved the upbeat songs that allowed her to twirl regina around as fast as she could, and he wondered how regina could handle what must be incredibly dizzying and nauseating for a human. and then there was nate, who took advantage of the slow ballads and classic waltzing music sprinkled throughout the evening, to lead regina around in simple box steps. it was very unlike adam to care what his team did during events like this, as long as they behaved themselves, but something about how nate would lean in every once in a while to say something and make regina laugh made him want to crush every glass in sight.

he crossed his arms and glared at the back of nate’s head, knowing he was doing this to antagonize him, somehow. he felt his gaze unwillingly soften, however, whenever he felt regina’s eyes glance over at him. he quickly looked away when he realized she was walking toward him, surveying the room as though he was being vigilant.

“not fond of dancing?” she asked, the words coming out in soft gasps as she sought to catch her breath.

“i don’t see the point,” he said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone catching even him by surprise. surely, he didn’t need to explain himself.

“sometimes things don’t have to have a point to be enjoyable,” she offered, her voice pleasantly cutting through the din of the party. “and i really like dancing.”

regina let out a soft hum as nate arrived and handed her a drink. she drank it gratefully, giving nate a gentle smile that made adam grit his teeth. morgan appeared next to her and swiftly took regina’s drink, finishing it despite her half-hearted protest.

“so, regina, what is your favorite new years’ eve tradition?” nate asked, hiding his smile behind his glass of wine and ignoring adam’s pointed glare.

“oh well, i always like how excited everyone gets and parties like this are definitely fun,” regina answered, pausing for just a moment to look down at her glass hesitantly before continuing, “but the best one is of course getting to kiss someone at midnight.”

“it’ll be midnight soon, do you have anyone you plan to kiss yet?” morgan asked, slinging an arm around regina’s shoulders. “i’m free at midnight, if you’re interested.”

adam cleared his throat. “that would be unprofessional, agent.”

morgan brought another cigarette to her lips. nate stopped her hand with the lighter and motioned to the balcony. “let’s get some air, morgan, and leave these two alone.”

“sure, if you think that means he’ll actually kiss her before i do,” morgan snickered, too soft for regina to hear but it was obviously directed at adam.

a soft romantic melody started playing over the speakers; a love ballad that regina was familiar with, judging by the way she started humming along and swaying gently in place.

i don't know why i'm scared i've been here before every feeling, every word i've imagined it all you'll never know if you never try to forget your past and simply be mine

regina blinked at adam’s sudden appearance in front of her, his large figure towering over hers and blocking the chandelier from her sight.

“you like this song.” it technically wasn’t a question.

“um, i guess?” she asked, puzzled.

“you should dance,” he said, his hands itching to reach for hers.

regina tilted her head to the side and looked up at him searchingly, her blue eyes delicately framed by her long dark lashes. “are you asking me to dance?”

he pursed his lips into a thin, straight line. “you would need a partner, and seeing as no one else is around, i can… dance with you. if you’d like.”

her eyebrows shot up in surprise. she was not expecting adam du mortain to willingly admit to asking her to dance. she quickly looked around and noticed that most of the agents had gone out on the balcony to watch the fireworks.

she smiled and tucked her hand gently into his and led him to the dance floor. they settled into a swaying rhythm as regina wrapped her arms around his neck. adam hesitantly placed his hands on her waist, and a sweet heat bloomed throughout her body, making her feel flushed.

“i thought dancing was pointless?” she asked teasingly after encouraging him to shift his weight between his feet to match her movements.

adam lowered his head, as if he didn’t want anyone reading his lips or hearing what he was about to say. “with you… it doesn’t seem that way.”

regina shook her head fondly. “you continue to surprise me, commanding agent.”

i dare you to let me be your, your one and only i promise i'm worthy to hold in your arms so come on and give me the chance to prove i am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts

“i hope so,” he muttered quietly. “i have lived over nine centuries, yet every day with you seems new and uncertain.”

regina was afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything and decided to step closer and rest her head on his shoulder instead. she smiled when his hands tightened around her waist, bunching the fabric in a way that she was sure would leave wrinkles.

“10…9…8”

her head shot up at the sound of the crowd outside counting down the last few seconds to the new year. “i didn’t realize it was almost midnight, we should go join everyone.”

adam’s green eyes bore into hers and she was close enough that she could see little specks of gold reflected in them from the chandeliers and ornate décor throughout the room. “you… you want to kiss mor—ahem, someone at midnight.”

“7…6…5”

“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. she tried taking a step back only to find that adam was holding her tightly in place.

“but it’s a tradition you enjoy.” it was a statement, but he was looking for confirmation while trying to maintain his composure despite his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he thought regina would be able to hear it.

“4…3…2”

she dropped her hands from his shoulders and let them rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his jacket nervously. “oh well, i— i suppose with someone i care for, yes.”

the final second and cheers from the balcony faded into the background as adam leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers; they were softer than he imagined, even with the layer of faded lipstick between them.

regina’s body instinctively arched closer to his as she sought to deepen the kiss, her hands scrambling for some part of his shirt she could hold on to. she barely registered that it was over all too soon as adam pulled back, her head spinning from the kiss in a good way.

“happy new year, detective,” he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back and walking away.

regina touched her lips to savor the pleasant tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. happy new year indeed.

* * * * * mentions:  @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;

[connordavidscamera]

Summer Break | Connor Brashier

College (B)Romance part 4

A/n: we’re two chapter away from the ending. I hope we’re all enjoying it! Also the majority of this is from me and @elvisp521 throwing angst back and forth at each other for like an hour straight lol

Summary: Finals are over and it’s time to for a much needed break. Of course, this isn’t exactly the break you thought you’d be taking.

Warnings: angst, I’m sorry. But also, no I’m not. Jealous!Connor (for real this time), lowkey possessive!Connor, asshole!connor (since I didn’t give you that in the first one like I said I was going to) Told in both POVs (not really a warning, but you know)

Word count: 3.5k

***

iMessage from Vance L.: hey… How’ve you been?

iMessage from Vance L.: I’ve been thinking bout u… miss u.

I furrow my brows but look away from her phone when she reaches for it. Who the hell is Vance and why is he texting my girlfriend that he misses her?

She lets out a deep sigh and tosses her phone back on her bed.

“Everything okay?” I ask. “Who was it?”

She nods and folds another one of her shirts before placing it in her suitcase. “Yeah, it’s just a guy I used to hang out with.”

I nod, “Hang out?” I chew the inside of my cheek, why am I even jealous? She’s with me. “As in you used to date?”

She swallows, “Umm… yeah. You could call it that.”

“Oh,” I say. “Cool.”

“I haven’t talked to him since we ended things,” she tells me, taking another shirt off its hanger.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. It was before we happened. I don’t mind.” Except, yeah I kind of do and I can’t seem to figure out why.

Neither of us bring it up again while I continue helping her pack up her room. It looks so empty with nothing on the walls, and I think it’s just now starting to hit me that in only three days we’ll be parting ways for the summer. It’s definitely not what I wanted to do. Hell, I wanted to spend every moment I could with her, but that unfortunately was not an option for us, living in different cities, at least 5 hours away from each other. We hadn’t really talked about what this summer was going to bring for us, but I knew that I wanted to keep seeing her and being there if she needed me.

Was it a little crazy that I had grown so attached to her already? Yeah, probably, but from what I can tell, she’s grown attached too. And maybe that’s why it bugs me that Vance is texting her.

---

When I pick her up from her dorm the next day, she’s in my shirt that she stole from me a couple weeks ago. It’s white and you can see the bright red of her bathing suit top underneath it. She wants to ruin me, I just know it. Her shorts barely peek out from under the shirt and I can’t stop the smirk that forms on my lips. She catches me though and rolls her eyes. “Eyes up here, bub,” she lifts my chin with her pointer finger and gives me that look.

“You know, the guys won’t miss us if we show up a little later.”

She laughs and it’s music to my ears. “Cheeky. But my roommate is here.”

“Hi, Connor!” she yells from the bathroom where she’s packing up some of her stuff.

“Hey, Lydia!” she comes out of the bathroom and shoots me a soft smile.

“You taking my girl from me.”

“I am. But you’re still more than welcome to come. It’s just a small get together.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “I don’t think your boys know the meaning of ‘small get together.’ So, thank you, but I’ll pass. I still have a lot of packing to do.”

“You leaving Sunday too?”

She nods, “Yep.”

“Well let me know if you need any help. I’m a great packer.”

“No, he’s not,” y/n shakes her head, patting my chest. “He’s good at distracting you. So… I’ll be back later. Have fun packing.”

“I will. Be safe guys. Connor,” Lydia points at me, “you bring her back in one piece.”

“I always do.” I take y/n’s hand and lead her away. “You ready for tonight?”

“A night at the beach with my favorite boy? What could be better?”

I press a kiss to her cheek before opening her door for her. “Did I tell you yet that you look beautiful?”

Her cheeks heat, “Thank you.”

I rest my hand on her thigh as we drive down to the beach. She’s in charge of the music, of course, and we vibe to some Khalid, who she’s been really into the past couple weeks. It’s the perfect music for a ride like this, not a care in the world. Just me, my girl, and the shore.  

I’m about to get out o the car when she stopped me, “You put on sunscreen, yes?”

I frown at her, “No. I never do.”

“Um, sir! You need sunscreen. You’re gonna burn, it’s hot outside.”

“So? I’ve been burnt so many times before, I’m fine.”

“Okay, sure, but I’m not gonna be the one coddling you when you’re complaining about your sunburn.”

I pout, “Awe, come on babe. You’re not really gonna make me put in on, are you?”

“You plan on getting lucky?”

“Well, I mean… I wasn’t exactly planning on it. But if it were to happen –”

“Yeah, see it won’t if you don’t put on sunscreen.”

I gape at her. “You’re kidding. Y/n/n, the sun will be down in like two hours.”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” she raises an eyebrow at me.

“Wow, you play dirty, baby. Give me the sunscreen.” I hold my hand out for the bottle of sunscreen that I know she packed because she obviously knew I didn’t bring any.

She smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m only applying it to my face,” I tell her pointedly.

Y/n shakes her head, “No. Apply it to those shoulders too. I need something to hold on to,” she says suggestively. “And I can’t do that if you’re wincing in pain when I touch you even just slightly.”

“You are something else, you know that?”

“If that something else is your girlfriend, then yes. And I quite like being that, so.”

I hum and lean forward to press a kiss to her lips. “Well, I like you being that.”

“Good. Because I don’t think you’re getting rid of me anytime soon.”

I blush at that, “Good, because I don’t want you going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Finally, the life of the party’s here!” Brian screeches when he spots us walking toward the group.

“You’re talking about me, right?” y/n jokes. “Because this boy over here is kind of a dud.”

I fake a gasp. “Says the girl who threatened to withhold sex from me if I didn’t put sunscreen on.”

Shawn laughs at that, “But did you put it on?”

I look down at the sand and the boys all laugh.

“Fucking whipped,” Brian claps my shoulder and brings us closer to the group that is seemingly growing by the second. For it to be just past noon, there’s so many people here already. The music is loud, and almost everyone I see has a red cup in their hand that no doubt has hot beer from the keg that is only slightly covered by an umbrella only a few feet away.

“Let’s get you guys something to drink,” Shawn wraps his arm around y/n, pulling her from my side and I frown.

“Mendes, get your own girl.”

“Fine, get your own drink. But I’m getting y/n something,” he says, taking my girl with him.

I shake my head at him, though he doesn’t see me. Sometimes I swear he and Brian like her more than they like me… Oh, who am I kidding? I know they like her more than they like me.

“So, did you ask her yet?” Brian nudges my shoulder, causing me to look back at him and away from y/n and Shawn who are laughing about god knows what, next to the cooler.

“Ask her what?” I play dumb. I know exactly what I’m supposed to ask her, but I’m scared.

“You know what,” he glares at me.

“No,” I shake my head. “I haven’t had the chance.”

“You mean in the last four days since you’ve been with her practically every second, you haven’t found the time to ask her to come home with you for a weekend and meet your parents?”

“No, Craigen, I haven’t. We’ve been busy.”

“Busy what? Fucking?”

“No, you ass!” I shove his shoulder. “We were packing up her dorm. And I was helping her study for her last exam.”

“You were helping her study?”

“Fuck off! Yes, I was helping her study.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that you’re gonna have to ask her at some point. If you’re as serious about her as you say you are –”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He holds his hands up in defense, “All I’m saying is that, you may have her right now, and it may seem like it’s serious, but a girl like that is wifey material. And if you don’t take her to meet your parents so that they can fall in love with her, she’s not gonna stay long. Because the longer you keep her away, she’s gonna start thinking that you don’t want her to meet your family.”

“Of course I want her to meet them, Brian. I just – I don’t know what they’re gonna think.”

“Dude, why are you so scared that they won’t like her? Is that really the problem or are you scared of getting too close to her because getting close with someone last time blew up in your face?”

“Hey, we said that we weren’t going to talk about that anymore,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up. But… that’s what it is, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with your parents.”

I sigh and look back down at the sand that’s coating my feet already. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You know she’s not like that, right?” He asks.

“I know.”

“Then you shouldn’t be scared.”

He was right. I shouldn’t be, but when I look back up and see a guy I don’t know talking to y/n, I’m not so sure. “Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know that guy over there with y/n and Shawn?” He’s gotten closer to her, and she doesn’t seem to be stepping away from him.

“Oh, yeah. That’s Vance. I have him in my chem lab. He’s a pretty cool dude.” But I stopped listening when I heard Vance. As in Vance, y/n’s ex-boyfriend. I swear I feel my heart sink as my blood boils.

---

Vance is the last person I expected to see at this party. He wasn’t ever really the party kind of guy. That’s kinda what drew me to him in the first place. But in all honesty? I couldn’t tell anything else that brought me to him. He was nice, sure, and he was easy on the eyes. But he was full of himself. Everything was about him. That’s why I ended it when I did. I didn’t need that in my life. He played it off like it was no big deal, so of course I treated it like it was no big deal.

I was shocked when he texted me the other day, probably just as shocked as Connor was. I never even texted him back. In fact, the messages are still left unopened. He hasn’t brought them up yet, which I’m grateful for, but he’s also been talking for a while now and I’d like to get back to my boyfriend. I look around to see if I can spot him anywhere close, hoping he could come and save me from this train wreck of a conversation. I find him sitting by himself near the shore. He has a bottle in his hands and I’m wondering if Shawn did end up bringing him a drink after all.

“Hey, Vance,” I interrupt his never-ending story, “It was really nice to see you again, truly. But uh, I have to go find my boyfriend, so…”

“You have a boyfriend?” he asks, and I try not to be offended by how shocked he sounds by that statement.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna go find him. But have fun,” I pat his arm before rushing to where Connor is sitting. I know something is wrong when I sit down, and he doesn’t immediately say anything. He doesn’t even look in my direction, just stares off at the ocean.

“You okay, bub?” I ask after the silence between us becomes almost as deafening as the crashing waves.

“Fine,” he mumbles with a single nod, still not making eye contact with me.

“Are you sure?” I fidget with the hem of my (his) shirt.

“Mhm…” he takes a swig of his beer and then sets it beside him, leaning back casually. “So that was Vance?”

I deflate. That’s what this was. I knew that text bothered him before. “Yeah, that was Vance.”

“Seems nice.”

“He’s alright.”

“Was pretty close to you.” I don’t like that he’s being so short with his sentences.

“Connor,” I sigh.

“Why’s he here?”

I shrug, “Because it’s a free country?”

He scoffs. “That’s not what I mean.”

“No? Then what do you mean?”

“Did you text him?”

It’s my turn to scoff, “What if I did?”

“Did you?” he asks again, finally sparing me a glance, but I don’t like the look on his face.

“No,” I say. “No, I didn’t text him back. And why should it matter if I did. I’m with you.”

“Exactly.”

My eyes widen at that. “Excuse me?”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

I scratch carelessly at the top of my thigh, a habit I have when I’m upset. “Okay, but you don’t own me.”

“I didn’t say that I did.”

“Well it sounds like that’s what you think.” I shake the sand off my hands, “I can text whoever I want to, Connor. And if I did text Vance when he messaged me, then that’s my decision. But I didn’t, because I have enough respect for you not to do that.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah okay? Are you seriously upset about this?”

“I just find it really convenient that he just so happens to show up to a party that the frat is holding, just after he texts you to say he misses you.”

“So you did read the message then?”

“Well it was right there in my fucking face. What did you expect me to do?”

“Maybe ask me about it instead of assuming the worst!”

“Why did I have to bring it up? He texted you, not me.”

“What? So I have to tell you about every guy that I have in my phone? High school friends, cousins, and everything. I thought we trusted each other enough to not have to do that. I don’t ask you about the girls you have saved in your phone.”

“I don’t have girls saved in my phone.”

“Bullshit,” I mutter, looking out at the water. “You’re not a fucking saint, Brashier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think I don’t know about some of the girls you’ve been with? The guys may be cool with me hanging out, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t let it slip that you’ve had your fair share of girls coming in and out of the house. And I don’t ask you about them because I don’t care. So why do you care that I had one guy before you?”

“It’s not that you had a boyfriend before me, it’s the fact that he’s still texting you!” he raises his voice a little.

“Once! That was the first time he had texted me since we broke up! And I already told you that I didn’t answer him.”

“Then why the fuck is he here, y/n?!” he stands, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know! Maybe he’s friends with one of the guys here. Or maybe he heard from a friend of a friend, but it wasn’t from me!” I stand too, crossing my arms. I can feel eyes on us, but I elect to ignore them. “You’re blowing this completely out of proportion.”

“Am I? Is it crazy for me to think that he’s here for you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why were you talking for almost a god fucking hour?!” he points toward where Vance and I were only minutes ago.

“Because he wouldn’t shut up! I was looking for you to see if you could get me out of the conversation, but you were already over here having your own little pity party for no reason.”

He runs his hand over his face and exhales deeply. “I don’t want to do this here. Let’s go.”

“No,” I shake my head.

“Y/n, people are watching. Please, let’s just go.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you. Especially not now. You want to leave, then fine. But I’m not getting in the car with you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” I repeat his words from just moments ago. “I’m not getting in the car with you,” I shrug.

He clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, “Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m leaving.”

“Fine, then go.”

He stands there, staring at me for a minute, as if he’s trying to size me up, see if I’m serious. But I’m dead serious. If he’s going to act like this then I’d rather stay here and find my own way back to the dorm, but I would not be getting in the same car as him. With yet another scoff, he turns and walks back up the same way we came only an hour earlier.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and turn back to the spot we were just occupying. I will myself not to cry. There’s no reason to. Except, yes there is, because I’m pretty sure Connor and I just broke up. But I’m also so frustrated with him because how could he not trust me.

“Y/n, honey?” Shawn’s voice sounds from beside me, startling me a little. I shut my cloudy eyes and turn to look at him, only to see Brian right next to him.

“Hey,” I breathe out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod, wrapping my arms tighter around my middle, trying to make myself smaller. The both frown at my answer and that’s when the dam breaks. “No,” I hiccup and Shawn’s arms are quickly wrapping me in a hug.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

I nod against his chest, sniffling. “Okay.”

---

I wake up to Brian throwing shit around the room and into his suitcase. I furrow my brows at him and the bright sunlight. “Could you be any louder?” I grumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Yeah, actually, I could.” He says before walking toward the door and slamming it behind him. What the hell is his problem?

I pick up my phone from the nightstand, and open my text messages, going to send y/n a good morning text. But then the events of last night come rushing back to me and I feel like an asshole. Last night got out of control. It wasn’t a big deal, or at least it shouldn’t have been. I sigh and click on her contact anyway.

iMessage to My Girl 😍: Can I come over? I wanna apologize.

Read 9:26 a.m.

I wait a couple minutes for those three little dots to pop up, but they never do. So with a deep sigh, I pull myself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom. I understand that she’s still mad, so I’ll just go over there. I’ll apologize face to face and we’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.

Or at least… it was supposed to be.

Lydia opens the door when I get there and she does not look at all happy to see me. “Hey,” I say softly, my hands in my pockets.

“What are you doing here?” she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I came to see y/n. And to apologize.” I shrug sheepishly.

“She’s not here.”

“What?” I stand straight, my eyes widening. “What do you mean she’s not here?”

“I mean exactly that. She left early this morning.”

“What?’

“Connor, I told you to do one thing. And that was to bring her back in one piece. But one, you didn’t bring her back, your friends did. And two, they brought her back with her heart shattered in a million pieces. So, I think it’s best if you go.”

“What? Lydia, hold on. Let me explain.”

“No, you don’t get to explain yourself. She left, she’s not here. Go home.” She slams the door in my face and I can feel my heart shattering. I shuffle quickly to get my phone from my pocket and I call y/n.

She doesn’t answer. So I call again. And again. And again. By the fifth call, it goes straight to voicemail. I’m breathing heavy, worried about her. She wasn’t supposed to leave until tomorrow afternoon. We had made plans to finish packing up her stuff today, go to dinner. But now she’s gone and she didn’t even tell me she was leaving.

I have royally fucked up.

***

I hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Permanent tag: @soyalimoncada-blog @tinycertain​ @magcon7280​ @daisyangei​ @fallinallincurls​ @lovewithanattitude​ @sinceweremutual​ @myyohmyuohmyy​ @perfectly-mendess​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @baroness-alison​ @lostinmendess​@linanilssonfurberg​ @luvluvxx​ @mariamuses​ @shawnieeboyy​ @divinginfearlessly @mendesficsxbombay @shawnsthighs @zaahidahhh @adelaidestreets @shawnandconnor @shawnsblue @turtoix 

Frat!Con: @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @mymanshawn @madison-malfoy@queenmendes 

Connor tag: @gangofhoes @verlaneswiftie13

* bold wouldn’t let me tag

** if you want to be added or removed from any list (permanent, Shawn, Connor,  College(B)Romance, or Not So Brash Brashier’s) just let me know

[wordsandsound14]

Switchfoot albums ranked (not including interrobang)

I've been thinking about this a lot too recently. Ik I'm late to the party on this one but I don't get on reddit often. Only got on since the band did the ama. I won't include interrobang since it's so new and ranking it seems difficult. (worst to best)

11. Learning to Breathe - While this record has some of the best written songs (Learning to Breathe, The Loser, Love is the Movement), it also has some of my least favorites (Poparazzi, Innocence Again, Living is Simple). I often just find myself bored with this album and disappointed. There are plenty of dipping of toes in ideas and then abandoning them. For instance, the beginning of Erosion is such a cool unique sound and then it's abandoned for the rest of the song. The themes of this album are also really boring to me, even when I was a christian. I just found it wasn't taking a unique perspective or doing anything different with its themes when they have done so before.

10. Where the Light Shines Through - I feel this was the band when they were the most uninspired. It feels like it was trying to sell itself to the CCM crowd and make some waves there since it's been the most consistent place of making waves and it still didn't do that. Don't get me wrong, there are great songs here (If the House Burns Down Tonight, Float, Holy Water). The first half of this album is super good. It's that back half that feels like an axe to the first half. Every song on the back half has something that disappoints me. And I'm fine with christian themes and all but it felt like this album had more just praise songs vs the questioning of faith. Would've been a great EP and it kinda made sense that they went into hiatus after this album. I also feel that the themes of the album didn't really make it to it. Jon talked about how he was in a some struggle and storm before the album and then by the time they got recording it more so became an album after the storm. And I just wonder what was going on. Cause there's only small hints. I can only feel that an album that actually talked about that or coming out of the storm would've worked but we got way after the storm and leaving a lot of good inspiration behind in a ball of mystery that we still don't know about. I don't need to know every information that he went through but the songs got effected by it.

9. New Way to be Human - I think what holds this album down the most is it's lack of direction. I can feel them trying to tackle all of their ideas from folk to pop to indie while maintaining their identity. I just don't feel these ideas get fully fleshed out. But these songs are really well written and the philosophy bleeding into these tracks and ending up being a basis of many future songs can all be tracked back to this album. This album is just a very specific listen so I don't often turn to this album. I do think Something More is the most overlooked song, with Amy's song being a close second. I also think Incomplete is a just a better version of I Turn Everything Over so it feels like a repeat track. But I really appreciate what this record represents in their career and see it as a stepping stone of sorts. (Company Car is one of their best earlier works)

8. Native Tongue - Seems a lot of people have very different feelings about this work. I think the biggest thing that makes Native Tongue feel distinct is that it feels like a Jon Foreman project with Switchfoot. Like Jon was the only one who couldn't stay away from the studio and was calling the other members. They came and were happy to but it was Jon with the initiative. At least, it's how it sounds to me. A lot of these ideas are incomplete. But when they aren't, they hit really well (Native Tongue, Dig New Streams, Oxygen). And the amount of trying different things! Granted a lot of ideas of modern production ideas but I'm glad they happened. But some I'm not too fond of (Joy Invisible, Wonderful Feeling, The Strength To Let Go). I feel this album also really fell short without a good producer. It's not the production value that doesn't work but Switchfoot works best when there is a producer there that works with them and pushes them. I fell they could have been better but it also has some solid songs in here.

7. Legend of Chin - This is one of the most fun Switchfoot records but has such a distinct sound and charm to it. I understand that a lot of songs are about girls that Jon doesn't even know any more but there isn't a bad song on here. It's all just fun from 3 guys jamming in a room. I used to not like the closing track but it's grown on me and I crave that sound more and more. Some standout tracks are Home, Chem 6A, You. With Underwater being a super creative song. I don't have a ton to say other than this is root Switchfoot and their cores are on display here.

6. Fading West - I feel this is their most misunderstood record. The struggle this album went through is tremendous. Take the two best things Switchfoot is known for and strip them away and they still make a record worth listening too imo. It's not their best but it's really ambitious, even if accidental. Originally, they were going to only strip the guitars away but when you listen to the story of Fading West, going on a journey to feel inspired. There are plenty of lines hinting that Jon was having writer's block (blood clot pen). It does mean the lyrics suffered some here but I don't think they suffered a ton. They achieved the california surf music. However, I do think they missed a huge part that I feel the fans were wanting. It's the sound that's on the ep. It's the one we were advertised and didn't receive on the album. I would loved if the album had the sound of Edge of the Earth (the song). But I really appreciate the risk cause it's a huge one. (stand out tracks: Love Alone Is Worth the Fight, BA55, Slipping Away).

5. Vice Verses - This was the best they have ever been as musicians (you could argue this for Oh Gravity too tho). But the amount of pushing their musical talent is very apparent on this album. The bass lines and drum rhythms are amazing. The only songs I'm kinda eh about are Rise Above It (still has great production and energy) and The Original (still has amazing bass and guitar parts). This album does have a weird issue with the lyrics either hitting really deep parts of your heart or being a very vague or simple line. The production is also the best imo and everything is layered super well. The only production that I disagree on is on Where I Belong (the digital claps for why and some parts sounding a little inconsistent with the rest of the album). But the choices in the sounds of the guitars and genre jumps and the grunge. Still lacking in some areas but still a solid record. (Holds my favorite Switchfoot song Thrive)

4. Oh! Gravity. - Oh yes, the golden era as I call it. I pin this album as the core Switchfoot sound. If you want to hear what Switchfoot sounds like, this album nails it. Guitars, fun, great lyrics, and musical variety. I don't have much words like I did for Chin. It's a pretty simple album to digest and it's the quickest made one (from what i'm aware of) and it shows but in the best way possible. It's also only made better by the podcast series they made. The only things that hold this album down a bit is American Dream and Burn Out Bright being repeat tracks of another (American Dream being the better one) and the double edged sword of it being simple when surrounded by high effort long works that are beyond exceptional.

3. The Beautiful Letdown - The Classic Foot album that defined their careers. It's not a joke tho that everything went up a whole level with this album. Something clicked in Jon's head that turned out some of his best lyrics and the song formats and sound just grew a ton. Jerome being an essential new member. And only one song that's a little meh (Redemption) and even the meh song is still catchy. Overexposure might be why it's not higher but I feel I have more reasons being that it does sound dated. Most of the time for better but a little for worse. I also feel that if Drew was a part of this album, it would be up a another level also. There's just a slight amount of incompleteness to this record. Not sure exactly but regardless the songwriting on this album is amazing and the questions and the way they are asked remain timeless.

2. Nothing is Sound - Grunge at its best here. I'm still not certain what Jon was going through here other than what the lyrics mention but whatever he was feeling hits hard. It resonates so much. To this day, these songs hold my throat. Not a bad song on here. It's a really good album that only gets beat by it's production value. Some songs could've been produced better (ironically Jon mentioned that recently too lol). Golden, The Setting Sun, and We Are Young Tonight are the forefront of those. And it's not like they are terribly produced but they are missing a little from what they could be. But literally it. Front to back, this record just rocks while wallowing in despair from the fallen world and the loneliness and helplessness it brings. It also represents a huge decision on what to do after a breakout record and is one of the best records after a band reached public success.

1. Hello Hurricane - The whole sound of this record is the most complete the band has ever sounded to me. The writing on this album is so great. Not one song is a waste and process this album went through is amazing. I get that they can't (prob shouldn't) do this process but damn was it worth it. This project sounds so complete and so organically made, even with two songs that I feel could have been switched out. (Always isn't my favorite but I may having it be a song for a past relationship. But it also does still have a lot of raw emotion in it that I appreciate and can get past my own perceptions. It's the lesser of the offense. Free is the other one only cause it kinda is booty in studio. It's live version makes ya wish it was that way on the record). But i adore these lyrics and I love the sounds they used without washing it up with production but still using production (Sing it Out) as a tool. It's so good and I love this album so much

quick review of interrobang is that it’s a very solid record and I love the sound of it so far. It doesn’t take my top record but it’s an insanely catchy album with a lot of listens in the future. I’d probably rank it as 2 or 3. Not sure if it’s above or below nothing is sound. but really give it a listen. It’s exactly what i’ve been wanting from the band for so long

[lemongams-blog]

Butterfly

Part1

2eyes for free

-I am a cold corpse , but I am alive while your heart is beating in my hands-a man who does not know the word "No"told me

two thousand five

The crackling of the chains makes me shudder, a dark veil wrapped around my eyes and did not allow the light of the lamp to break through it. My legs were already numb from the cold, and my hands were wandering around the chain trying to find a way to remove the shackles. Losing track of time, I tried to fall asleep , but the chains wouldn't let me fall to the floor. The pads of my fingers felt a soft palace inviting me to lie down. The girl smiled in all her thirty-two teeth.

- No matter how long I stood here , no matter how much I thought about my situation... okay, I lost my train of thought, I know that asking to let me out would be stupid ,but if you don't do this, you will live much less ~boys. My beloved is already thinking how to get me out of this hole - after finishing her monologue, she tried to take off her mask by shaking her head. There was silence in the entire complex, even the guards were already snoring in the observation room, the world somehow froze in anticipation of something.It is not every day that such a big shot of the mafia world is in prison, the guards did not even suspect what her betrothed could do to them. But four days had already passed since her capture, and the girl herself understood that he would not come, hope was slowly leaving her. Her legs were weak, and her stomach was greedily moaning in search of food, she was not fed from the word at all, huge bags under her eyes that were hidden by a mask on a penny prevented the view of the room where she was. Hour after hour went by, it seemed that she was already going crazy already hearing distant drops of water that were somehow approaching her. Rustles and sobs began to come closer and closer.

"I've read your file, it's an interesting story. You know, I would take off this bdsm mask, but on the condition that you don't twist your face - a child's sonorous voice filled the camera . It seemed to cut the soul and made the girl shiver from the chill of the young person's breath. Her cold fingers touched the girl's face and gently removed the annoying mask. A tired, bruised face was hidden under it. A burning cold light cut into her eyes and she squinted. Gradually, she began to get used to the light and what she saw led her into shock.

-What are you ...?- this is the first thing she said looking at her "girlfriend". There was a black substance in the corner , it flowed and flowed into itself, red eyes peeked out of it that looked into the girl's soul , but this is not the most frightening thing.

- This is not the way to get acquainted with Sheren!- the girl said indignantly, Sheren immediately turned her head to the source of the sound , as it turned out she was melting on the ceiling. The girl's eyes opened and began to vomit from the picture that was in front of her. There was a girl standing on the ceiling in front, but if everything was so simple, her whole body was howling in seams, when they were picking it up, parasites and insects peeked out of it, and a sinister smile was on her face.The eyes , or rather their absence, frightened Sheren even more. After throwing up bile, she looked at the girl with horror.

-Well, how so, okay, I'm asking you for such a boorish greeting. My name is Sophie, S O F I, but for you I am the "Key of Salvation", an indefinite promotion by the way! Sophie was getting closer to Sheren, but the more they were together, the less it calmed her.

- So-fi means, it is clear. Okay, I'll leave out the fact that you're a zombie of local tailoring. Honestly, I need to get out, and you know it, so what do you want from me ? Sheren tried not to show her fear , but she still looked like a frightened hare.

- Oh, you're already talking, not bad. I just need ... your eyes ~ Sophie was not joking and was serious in her intentions

- What eyes ! But what is the point of the exchange if I go blind and then I will not be of any use - The girl was indignant at such a proposal

- I think it's not so simple , everything has a price and your eyes, too, heh~ I'll give you some of my strength, and I'll help you get out, and you, dear, will give your two eyes. You know, I think that your brown eye color would suit me ~ The girl spoke sweetly with her soft voice like a snake that gives an imaginary choice. She was ready to forcefully take her eyes away, but something held her back. Sophie saw her key in Sheren, but what is it for?

"Don't take me for a 'trusting brat', but I don't have much choice. And time, too, in fact, if I remain sighted, then I agree to your proposal, do everything that I would come out, stay alive , sighted - a sudden courage made Sophie break into a smile and she began to fulfill the contract. Sheren was still chained up and it would be good in this situation. The girl approached the face , her thin fingers parted the eyelids and gently penetrated behind the eyeball. Sheren began to feel a hellish devouring pain, and Sophie took out her eyeball from which a yellow substance was oozing. The girl inserted it into the eye socket and reached for the second one. Through these hellish torments, Sheren no longer thought about how to get out , she thought about how to survive. Her scream filled the entire building, and Sophie, inserting her eyes, began to fill the girl with a black substance through her eye sockets and her mind went out, she was twitching from spasms. The substance was fiery-hot and explored the flesh. Clenching her jaw until it creaked, and in the same second she opened her mouth, a wave with eyes that were bleeding poured out of it. Sheren lost consciousness.

And the heart ceased to exist in this fragile body.

Our days

Bright lights illuminated the night town, all living beings were returning home in a hurry to get to the kingdom of Morpheus as soon as possible. The children were waiting for the weekend, and the adults were thinking about how to start a new week. The hum of cars filled the city with special music, life flowed as usual. An imposing, tall man strolled around the town listening and feeling the hasty rhythm of life , but he had his own rhythm. He was not interested in the flow of other people, the noise and bustle did not attract his attention. Turning into an alley, he drew attention to the following picture : two teenagers were pinning a girl to the wall , they had their own not sophisticated plans for a young person. The man took out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his raincoat , took out one and lit it, the acrid smoke began to fill the alley with the aroma of young roses.

- Hey, what's up ? Get the fuck out of here ! We don't want to be next, " one of the guys said. The man simply smiled and walked towards him. The uncle was much taller than the two brats and their show-offs only amused him.

- what? Say it to my face again, or I can't catch your mosquito squeak, baby~ The man took both boys by the scruff of the neck , and the girl at that moment rushed to the leak. He wasn't going to be a hero or anything like that, he has his own goals. It seemed that he was holding two small dogs, and not people who a minute ago tried to rape a girl. After dropping them, he lifted his wide-brimmed felt hat, an empty face emerged from under it, only a wide grin. White snakes began to crawl out from behind, they rushed after one of the guys and grabbed him by the leg, not letting him escape , the second lost consciousness due to shock. It wasn't good for the monster , but at least he wouldn't scream. The first kid tried to pull away from the monster and find a way to get out of the tenacious fetters.

- Well, let's see how wide your ass will stretch - with a sneer, the monster approached his face and his cry dissipated in the dark.

[gyllenhaalstories]

imagine taking rapper jake home to meet your parents.

i’m so sorry for the delay, anon! <3 buckle up, it got long and i’m emo!!!!! lil jakey jakes meeting your parents was not something i thought i’d cry about right now but here i am. i listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex if you want to vibe with me!

<3

jake swore he was about to shit his pants when you reminded him of the dinner with your parents.

he ran all over his house, searching for nothing and everything at oncel. one second it was his tie, the next his phone and after that his keys. he was just so terrified. he wanted to leave a good impression.

he dressed up like he was going to the oscars. he put on a suit, a new one he got tailored to his body just for the occasion. he covered all of his tattoos, with those long sleeves. he hid his chain under the color of the shirt you buttoned lovingly. he went to the barbershop too, he got a fresh cut and his beard neat. he looked like a movie star and even if this was not the man with whom you fell in love, you still loved this new persona.

“you’re so stressed that i’m stressed” you’d scream at him while he paced around the bedroom as you put on a simple outfit, some jeans and a button up shirt too. dresses felt too formal. it was your parents, not the pope. “we’re not going. i’m calling them and i’ll say i’m sick”.

jake stopped moving and protested. “if i wanna ask your father for your hand, i better know how he looks like first. if he likes golf, i’m out”.

the joke was unexpected, but it made both of you laugh. he kept bringing up marriage. it was like a running gag, but it felt more and more real. one day you would be called mrs gyllenhaal. and this day would not happen if you died from a heart attack because you couldn’t face the judgement of your parents.

so jake waited for you in the car. he picked a black jaguar, he didn’t want to be too obnoxious. he had the head lights shining bright and blinked them so you pretended to walk like a model and twirl in front of the car before you sat on the passenger seat. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.” jake said and noticed you, too, wore the chain he got you for your birthday. he stretched his arm out to play with it lightly and then proceeded to drive to your parents’ house.

he stopped in the drive way. it was a tiny home, very old with a bunch of flower pots that were wrapped up for the winter. it was lovely already. jake stopped the car and took deep breaths.

“you sound like you’re about to get into labor”

“it’s a neat trick you’ll have to try it”

and you both breathed fast like two freaks in the car while the music was playing in the background. some U2 song. it calmed the two of you down. when you got out of the car, jake immediately grabbed your hand. he needed the comfort.

you were about to ring the door bell when your mother slammed the door open and wrapped you in a tight hug.

jake smiled and looked behind her. he waved at your father.

“mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, jake. jake, this is my mom and dad.”

“hi mom, hi dad” jake replied and it made the two of them laugh.

jake wanted to bring champagne and flowers, but you convinced him to not do too much. your parents were simple people. they would be happy as long as jake didn’t tease you from under the table (the jeans were definitely a good option) or mentioned politics. 

“our daughter has told us a lot about you” your mother said “yeah, we heard you are a singer? isn’t that the dream” your father added

“yeah.” jake smiled awkwardly and took a sip from the glass of water you both shared. you were sitting on his lap, on the love seat of the small living room. your parents asked him tons of questions. he answered them genuinely. he asked them questions too. he was relieved to find out your father preferred hockey to golf.

you sat around the table. it was weird that the fourth chair of the dining table was finally used.

none of your previous relationships lasted long enough to reach this level of intimacy. sex was one thing, but meeting your parents? that was a HUGE deal.

jake behaved like the best man in the world. he complimented the food. it was just simple spaghetti and storebought garlic bread. but it tasted like love and home. he asked for two other plates. your mom even reached to wipe his chin from the tomato sauce.

it filled him with joy. he had a tough relationship with his own family and he felt like he fit right in with yours.

you watched jake with heart eyes. he was so happy to explain his art and craft to your father who kept asking him if he had met blake shelton or the backstreet boys. you know, hip people. jake laughed and shook his head. he didn’t bother explaining that he sang about filthy things the two of you did. he was happy they considered his job as valid. he was not a carpenter or a doctor. but he was happy to spoil you nonetheless.

“you’re doing great” you’d whisper to jake.

everything was fine. until your mom pulled out the baby photos albums. THE SHAME.

“look at that tiny baby booty!” jake pointed and melted. “toohtless! that gums only look, can’t wait to see it again when we’re old and grumpy.” he pulled out a photo. you were wearing matching ugly yellow zipped hoodie and plaid pants. you were holding a teddy bear of the same colour as the one he got you for your birthday. behind the photography it was written happy y/n at the park with her best friend. he asked if he could keep it. your parents agreed. (it was his phone home screen from now on, your lock screen being a post sex glow photo when he could see a tiny drop of cum at the corner of your eye, it was still cute to him). “so she’s always been bad at cooking?” he said and laughed when you found a picture of you and your grandparents where you held a plate of burnt cookies. “hey, not cool! i was only seven!” you pushed him gently. “look at you now, you burn bread in the toaster”. your parents were the ones who melted now.

“so, jacob...”

jake insisted that it was fine your father called him by his full name.

the two of you were so stressed out. the tone of your father’s voice was suddenly heavy and scary.

“yeah?”

“does it hurt to get tattoos?”

jake squinted and you coughed loud enough to cover the whispered what the fuck that came out of his open mouth. his sleeves were rolled up and exposing the ink. “i mean, yeah, it hurts a lot. it’s worth it though. i feel like an art collector.”

“in my young days, i’ve always wanted a tattoo. i got the concept. this lovely lady as a pin up girl, quite impressive, huh?.” he winked at your mom who blushed while you tried everything you could not to throw up.

jake rolled his sleeve a little higher and pointed at a spot near the veins of the inside of his arm, close to the elbow. he got the outline of a heart tattooed. you noticed how wobbly the lines were, that’s because it was the heart you always drew at the end of your notes that you left him when you were gone or when he was out working. “that’s my favourite.”

THE WAY YOU JUST BURST INTO TEARS and your mom shouted “time for dessert!”

great timing.

“our daughter told us you loved m&m’s”.

jake turned to look at you. you shrugged.

your mother came back with chocolate cake on which she had sprinked crushed m&m pieces on the frosting.

jake asked to get the biggest slice. “that’s the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in my whole life.” (which was a lie because the best cake was your ass but details) he said, his mouth full. your mother laughed and your father agreed. they began talking about hockey when your mother asked for your help in the kitchen.

“if we learned anything from you,” she started and handed you a plate to dry. you hated to do the dishes, especially if you were to be lectured like a child. “it’s to never judge people by their covers. we love jake. he’s good to you. you’re good to him.”

you hugged your mom and the two of you cried so loudly that jake dropped his spoon. he thought something bad happened. that you cut yourself with the butter knife or something.

“welcome to the family, jake.” your father squeezed jake’s shoulder as you walked back to him to press a kiss on his cheek.

it was now time to leave, after hours and hours of anecdotes from your childhood or from the time you were convinced you’d marry brad pitt or when you put eyeshadow in your hair to act like you dyed them to be punk but it was raining that day and you came back looking like a sad frosty rainbow.

“you’re my favourite person.” jake told you when he gave you his vest as a coat. it was chilly outside.

you all hugged and shook hands, promising to come back soon for brunch. jake told them he’d make his famous pancakes.

“hold on!” jake exclaimed and pulled you by the arm. you followed him back in the kitchen and he fed you a spoon of the cake. you fed him one in return again. “tastes almost as good as your pussy” he whispered in your ear and kissed your chocolate covered lips.

you finally left the house, waving from the car at your parents who stood on the porch. they seemed satisfied. and you? you had never been more in love.

“can’t wait to rip those tight jeans off your body and fuck you like a bitch.” jake winked and started to drive away. “i’m looking forward to the toothless viagra boosted blowjobs too, that’s gonna feel divine.” 

you slapped his thigh and he moaned in pain. you rested your hand there and he brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

“welcome to the family.” you repeated.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Different Worlds (7)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up

Word Count: 2234

A/N: Is it 2 am? Maybe... Am I listening to nostalgic and depressing music to make myself sad? Maybe...

~*~

Chapter Seven: Some Words Are Exchanged

“Well don’t just stand there,” Crowley said when nobody moved. You all traded glances as you tried to come up with a plan. “Come and take a seat.”

“Cut the act, Crowley,” Dean ordered. “You know why we’re here.”

“And here I thought we were friends, Squirrel.” The demon sighed and with a wave of his hand, the music stopped. “You brought me a new friend, though.” He looked at Bucky and when you moved to interrupt his gaze, Crowley smirked. “Ah, but it looks like the soldier is already taken.”

“Give me the book Fergus,” Rowena drew her son’s attention toward herself.

“Well since you asked so nicely, mother, and sat at my table and ate my food and joined me in some wonderful conversation—”

“Stop stalling,” your oldest brother nearly shouted. “Where is the book?”

“What book?”

“The Magicae Libro.”

“Ah, yes. It’s a powerful book, but why would you think I have it?”

“You stole it,” Jack answered. “After the Avengers left we discovered both you and the book missing.”

“Then let me rephrase it,” Crowley grinned while everyone else either glared or rolled their eyes at him. “It’s a powerful, very powerful book. Why would you think I still have it?”

“You gave it away?” you groaned and resisted the urge to stomp your foot like a child. Why did this have to be so fucking hard? It was starting to feel like a scavenger hunt. “Who did you give it to?”

“I didn’t ‘give it away,’” Crowley scoffed and sat in the chair at the head of the table. He motioned to the other chairs as if the action would convince your group to dine with him. “Honestly I’m hurt that you would even think that I would do something as dumb as giving the Magicae Libro away.”

“So you’re saying someone stole it from you?” Sam cocked his head.

“Stole it? From me?” You had to bite back a grin at seeing Crowley’s very offended expression. “First you think that I simply gave it away, then you think that somehow, someone came into Hell to steal it from me?” He paused for a moment. “Though I’m sure you morons would have found a way to steal it from me.”

“So where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Crowley, I swear to fuck—”

“He’s stalling,” Bucky said to your surprise. “He told us that he wouldn’t give the book away and that it wasn’t stolen. He still has it.” He narrowed his eyes. “But not for long. He traded it for something.”

“How do you know?” You look at the blue-eyed man.

“My training,” he replied simply.

“That’s amazing.”

“Thank you, doll.”

“Okay,” Rowena snapped. “We get that (Y/N)’s boyfriend—” Both you and Bucky interrupted with a couple of half-assed denials. The red-haired witch cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at you. “We get that (Y/N)’s boyfriend is good at whatever he’s good at, but I need the book.”

“Yeah, we need the book,” Dean said holding his knife up threateningly.

“Who are you giving it to?” Jack added.

“And where and when does the exchange take place?” Sam joined.

“Um, I’m personally more worried about what Crowley traded it for,” you point out. A small smile crept up your face when Bucky nodded his agreement with you.

“What makes you think I would tell you?” Crowley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“We’ll postpone killing you,” Dean threatened.

“Would you let them kill me, mother?” the king of Hell turned his gaze on to his mother who sharply responded,

“Maybe. You are being a pain in my ass.”

Crowley opened his mouth to retaliate but before he could get anything out, you jumped in.

“What if we trade you something better than what the other party offered you?”

“You leave me alone for two years and I’ll answer your questions,” he said immediately. “That means you all let me do whatever I want for two whole years. No stopping me or my plans.”

“As long as it doesn’t endanger anyone,” Bucky negotiated.

Crowley shook his head. Superheroes, right? They never want anyone to die. There will always be casualties, but you can’t save everyone. It’s a lesson all hunters must learn early on.

“As long as it doesn’t hurt more than ten people,” Sam offered but the demon continued to shake his head.

“It doesn’t matter who he kills as long as it’s not me,” Rowena sighed.

 “Fine,” you said. “Twenty-four people. You’re limited to one every month.”

“Twenty-four?” Bucky asked as Crowley pretended to mull over the offer. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Without limitations, his body count would be in the hundreds each year.”

“I’ll take the deal.” Crowley held out his hand.

“Remember, if there’s more than one person per month, we will intervene,” Dean warned and stepped forward to shake the demon’s hand.

“Is that it?” Jack asked. “Has the deal been made?”

“What do you want a kiss?” Crowley made a face. “Anyways, my client, or clients, are the twin witches by the names of Myra and Alek.”

“Those pieces of shit,” Rowena spat. Then she turned to the rest of you. “They were, and I suppose still are, hungry for power. I heard that they were the ones Lucifer recruited to get the book in the first place.”

“Yes, I do seem to remember them saying something about their Dark Lord,” mused Crowley. “They decided to meet, well not meet per se. The book will appear in the Stull Cemetery at the witching hour at their request.”

“So they have a sense of humor,” Sam deadpanned.

“Stull Cemetery’s in Kansas,” you pointed out.

“Right, okay. Let’s get out of here and come up with a plan.”

“You’re not sticking around for dinner?” Crowley looked at the table.

In response to his question, Rowena mumbled some Latin under her breath and you all appeared in the bunker’s library in a flash of purple flames. Cas jumped up from his seat in surprise and the fire in the bowl died out. 

“Do you have the book?” He asked once you were all orientated again. 

Dean shook his head no and explained the deal you had made with Crowley. 

“So we go in and get the book before the witches,” Sam summarized. Talk about easier said than done.

“Rowena, are you in?” You looked at her. 

“I would very much enjoy obliterating those pieces of shit.”

“What about you, Bucky?”

“I think I gotta sit this one out,” he said slowly and you could feel yourself visibly deflate. “You guys sound like you’ve got this handled anyway.”

“Okay.” The room was silent. Oh, fuck. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You have to get out of here. “I’ll show you out.”

“Can I talk to you about something?” Bucky asked once you left the library.

“Uh, sure.” You had a few ideas of what was on his mind. Was it going to Hell? Was it the multiple almost-kisses? You really needed to talk about that.

“Are you sure letting Crowley kill one person every month is a good idea?”

Hmm. Not quite what you were expecting. You should have known this was coming. Definitely would have preferred the almost-kiss topic. Maybe have a redo.

“Well, to keep the book out of those twitches’ hands, we had to make a deal appealing to the King of Hell.” You led him up the stairs, getting very close to stomping. “As I said before, he would kill a lot more fucking people if we gave him even the slightest hint of…” You turned around at the door to face the superhero. “Listen. Any other scenario would definitely have a body count higher than twenty-four. In a shorter time frame than two years might I add. Trust me. I’m not exactly thrilled about this deal either, but there will always be casualties. I would think you would be one of the people to understand.”

“I do understand,” Bucky said when you finally gave him a moment to speak. “But I thought you would have tried harder.”

He opened the front door and left silently. The slam of the door behind him echoing a bit too much in the large, empty room.

~*~

Bucky wished he hadn’t left like that. In fact, he kind of wished he hadn’t left at all. The moment the door had closed, a bit too loudly in his opinion, he had regretted the goodbye. Or lack of one. As much as he wanted to go back in and set things right with (Y/N), he was never one to properly deal with his emotions.

He marched back to the small quinjet he had flown to Kansas in. The journey back was quiet, but not in Bucky’s head. The events of the day kept repeating in his mind just like a record stuck on repeat.

The day could have ended so differently. He had almost kissed her. Twice. Once even in Hell. Fuck, the fact that he had been to Hell, actual, literal Hell, made his mind spin. And he hadn’t even left the castle.

But he had almost kissed (Y/N). He wondered if she wanted to kiss him too. Would it have happened if Dean hadn’t interrupted? They had been seconds, inches away.

And now he probably fucked everything up because he had to question her. He knew that there would always be casualties. He knew she didn’t want anyone to die. But he wished that she had tried harder.

Twenty-four was a pretty large number. Twenty-four people were a lot of people. Bucky wondered if he even knew twenty-four people right now.

It was eight pm when Bucky landed in New York and his stomach was practically yelling for food. He half wished he had taken up Crowley’s offer of a feast. But then again, who knew if it was poisoned or cursed or whatever the demon King of Hell would do to food. Probably curse the consumer to be stuck in Hell like the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades.

The kitchen was empty except for… great. Bucky sighed, knowing that the two men in the kitchen serving themselves ice cream wouldn’t let him have a peaceful dinner as he had hoped. They greeted him happily when they saw him and Bucky mumbled his greeting back. He wandered over to the fridge, praying that there were some decent leftovers. He didn’t think he could eat instant ramen right now.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called out. “Where’ve you been?”

“Yeah, man. You look like shit,” Sam joked, though Bucky was sure there was some truth to it.

He ignored Sam’s oh so important contribution to the conversation and answered Steve in one word: “Hell.”

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Steve prompted, eager for more details.

“No,”  Bucky corrected as he placed a bowl of spaghetti in the microwave. “I literally went to Hell with the Winchesters.”

“Oh, so you were with (Y/N),” Sam smirked.

“Why did they need to go to Hell?” Steve asked, he too ignoring the Falcon.

“Apparently Crowley stole the Magicae Libro from them the other day.”

“Did it end in a fight?” Bucky could clearly hear the concern in Steve’s voice.

“No.” This has had to be the longest microwave minute in history. One of them would come to the conclusion soon enough. Sure enough, the next words out of Sam’s mouth…

“So trouble in paradise, huh? That’s what’s gotcha so down?”

“I wouldn’t call it paradise if nothing ever happened between us.”

“But you want something to happen,” Steve confirmed the same time Sam asked what had happened.

Finally, the microwave timer went off and Bucky managed to escape answering his friends as well as the onslaught of questions that were sure to follow. He took refuge in his room and ate the spaghetti on his bed. Bucky could see (Y/N)’s file on his desk. It was pinned underneath the Supernatural book Wanda had lent him.

The specific book was titled ‘Skin’ and it was about skinwalkers. It had matched up with what (Y/N) had told Bucky about Dean’s first serious run-in with the law. Bucky kind of wanted to read more of the Supernatural books, God was actually a decent writer, but at the same time, it felt sort of like reading (Y/N)’s diary.

Shouldn’t he be learning all about her from, well, her? Bucky supposed that she could also look up his life on the internet. Although the media wasn’t always true or nice to Bucky. How true were the Supernatural books? Did he trust God, or Chuck Shurley, to know (Y/N)’s thoughts and emotions in those situations? She must have changed a lot since the books had been written.

Shit. Maybe Sam was kind of right with the whole ‘obsessed with her’ thing. It wasn’t an obsession, it was just simple curiosity. Bucky was only interested in learning more about the hunter lifestyle. Or (Y/N)’s hunting lifestyle. Or (Y/N). Damn, he really couldn’t get her out of his head.

When he finally went to bed after sluggishly completing his nightly routine and confirming to Steve that he was okay, it was twelve thirty-two. He wondered how (Y/N) and the rest of the gang were handling the witches.

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666 @broco8

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 63 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 63 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“I have to guess that he had lost track of the poisoned kit.  He ran several inventories of all the tools for sale, apparently trying to find it.  

“Master Selked’s mark had been sloppily placed on the tools and the kit was an obvious second.  I think that’s why Kurti took it.  She used it for mending fabrics in this cabin and kept it on that shelf.  I have to guess that she never used the awl because the fabrics she was working with were light weight.”

Barad leaned over and held out his bed hanging.  “This velvet was worn. She fixed it so that you can’t even see where the wear was.  I love Tanlin but I still miss Kurti.”  He let the hanging fall with a sigh and went back to his narrative.

“Mister Morgu finally figured out that the kit was here and sent Silor to get it.  They went ahead with the plot on their own.  We caught them just minutes after you were poisoned and the sailor from the Grython had taken his prize away.”

Kurin was outraged but not in the way that Barad had expected.  “You mean that you let Kurti use that deadly sewing kit?  Did she really die of lung parasites?  Ord can make you cough blood, too!  I’ve seen it!”

Barad was taken aback.  “She simply took a kit from stores.  I didn’t know it was the poisoned kit!  Yes, she died of lung parasites!  Her infection was well advanced when I gave her the cabin-girl job!  She hated going onto the invalid list and being forced to do no work.  I gave her something that she could do!  

“If I could have, I would have traded away this ship to stop her infection!” he paused for breath, then quietly went on.  “I told you that miss her still.  Were there any loophole in the Marriage Laws, I’d have married her, dying or no!

“Tanlin’s awakening just when she did saved my heart and possibly my mind.  At first, the physical resemblance to Kurti drew me to her.  It was quickly obvious that Tanlin is a very different person.  As I helped her to recover (Doctor Corin would probably say ‘got in his way’), I came to love her.”

Kurin softened, “I have seen the medical records and talked to Lady Tanlin.  I was off course.  I apologize.”

“Accepted.”

“You know, Barad, I have to get you off, if it can be done.  I hope for the sake of the Naral fleet that I succeed.”

Barad leaned forward, suddenly intense.  “Why?  We have agreed to submit to fleet justice.  They can do whatever the laws allow.”

Kurin gave him a slightly grim look as she answered, “You have.  Tanlin has.  Your crew will fight to the death to save the both of you, and you have the only war equipped ship in the fleet.  Some, Darkistry among them, regretted that it was necessary to ram the Fauline to get you back.  None of them is sorry that they did it.  They got you back and that is the only thing that matters to them.

“I think that even if you ordered your crew to accept a death verdict that encompassed either you or Lady Tanlin, you’d have a mutiny. They’d fight the Great Dragons themselves to save the two of you.

“If Sula and Huld are still here, they will probably have to sink this ship to stop the destruction that will certainly follow a death warrant or a Scattering order.  That would hurt Sula more than you know.  It would not stop her.  I don’t want to see any of that happen.”

Kurin rose and went to the door.  Before going out, she said, “The good news is that I will be able to represent you, as well as the rest. Now I need to see Purser Morgu and Silor.  Then I can begin drafting cases.”

Tanlin was waiting outside the door.  “T’ank ye,” she said simply. Further down the hallway, she motioned a guard aside from a door. “Morgu’s in ‘ere.  Silor’s been kept in t’e next cabin.  Oi t’ink t’at ye do need guards for t’ese twa.  Oi’ll be ane an’ Kimson ‘ere will be t’other.”  She drew the bolts and lifted the bars that blocked the door from sliding.

Kurin was suddenly struck by a thought.  She stopped Tanlin from sliding the door open.  “Does Mister Morgu know that I am alive?”

“Oi’ve nae seen fit t’ tell him so,” was Tanlin’s reply.

Kurin gave her an impish look.  “Don’t be surprised at how I deal with this interview then.  Wait a bit.”  She ran off toward the galley. It was about twenty minutes before she returned.  She was carrying what looked like two paddle duck eggs, a small packet and a tiny candle in her thinly gloved hands.  One egg was dyed a red color, the other a brownish hue.

Kurin hid them in her sash and conferred with Tanlin and Kimson for a moment.  They entered the cabin, Tanlin and Kimson first.  Tanlin guarded the doorway.  Kimson searched the room, then took his place on the other side of the door.

Morgu asked, “What’s the occasion, Tanlin?”

She held her silence.  A pillar of fine dust appeared inside the doorway. It disappeared with a flash of flame and Kurin was standing quietly in its place.  She just stood and looked at Morgu.  It took him a second to realize just who he was seeing.

“You’re dead!” he recoiled from Kurin but the cabin wall stopped his further retreat.

“I was.  You heard the whales?  I came back.  I always get what I want.” She turned to Tanlin and said, “Not that I gave you much choice, still you have my thanks for coming to the Dragon Sea.  It made coming back much easier.”

Tanlin picked up her cue flawlessly.  In apparent fear she said, “T’ey warned m’ t’at ye were a Dragon-wicken.  Oi didnae believe t’em.” She swallowed hard.  “Oi saw ye die in Sula’s arms.  T’e Fauline told us t’at ye were given t’ Dark Iren t’e next morning.  

“We tried t’ get away across t’e pole.  We’ve been trapped ‘ere in t’e Dragon Sea for weeks.  T’e whales came up an’ ye were aboard.  ‘Ow can we get free?”

Morgu listened to the exchange in rising horror.  He had heard those whales through the hull.  Kurin simply said, “I came to hear something that I already know.  To have a question answered — — by him.” She turned and pointed to the cowering Morgu.  “Whose idea was it to poison me and send me to my foster father?”

“Y, y, your foster father?” quavered Morgu.

“Dark Iren, Blind Mecat’s mate.  Mecat is my foster mother.  You know that.  That makes him my foster father.”  She smiled softly, “Now I have parents that I cannot lose.  I have nothing to fear in Dark Iren’s halls.”

She paused and looked slit-eyed at Morgu.  A grim smile playing about her lips, Kurin added, “Unlike some that I know of.”  

Almost irrelevantly Kurin said, “Sometimes it pays to learn from Dragons,” She reached out casually and chucked the frightened Morgu under his chin.  He flinched, feeling a hot burning sensation where she had touched his neck, and as her hand came into view he could see a red egg cradled in it.

Kurin displayed the egg to him.  In a much harder voice Kurin said, “This holds your life.  You felt me take it.  If I crush it, you will be gone in great pain.  If you crush it, your life is yours once more. Now think carefully, you have only one chance to tell me the truth that I already know.  I just want to hear it from you.  Truth, and your life is your own.  Lie and die — — — in pain.

“Whose was the idea?  Why me?”

Morgu stared in almost hypnotic fascination at the egg in Kurin’s hand. Frantically, he answered, “It was my idea but Captain Barad went along with it!”

Coldly, she wrapped her fingers about the egg.  “Did he?  All the way?  Did he help to kill me?”

Sweating, Morgu answered, “He backed out at the last minute!  Silor and I killed you!”

“Why?” Kurin asked in a tone so cadaverous that Tanlin was startled.

“Both the Captain and I hate the Longin!  You were vulnerable and your death would hurt the whole ship.”  He quailed, “You can ask the Captain!”

Kurin made a casual gesture as if she were pulling something off a shelf that was not visible to the eye and a brownish egg was in her other hand.  She smiled a truly terrible smile.  “I have already spoken with him.”

Tanlin, sensing a cue, broke in almost frantically, “Barad told ye true! Ye promised t’ give ‘is life back!  Please dinnae kill ‘im!  Oi love ‘im!”  She ended groveling at Kurin’s feet.

“Get up, Tanlin,” said Kurin calmly.  “I just want him to know what it is like to lose his life, if only for a short while.  Here, take it back to him.”  She gave the egg to Tanlin who held it as if it were precious.

To Morgu, Kurin said, “You have spoken truly.  Here is your life back. Just shatter it in your hand.  It will burn as much returning as it did coming out.”

As they left the room, they could hear the sound of an eggshell crushing.

Safely in the hallway, with the door shut, Tanlin leaned back against the far wall and had a fit of giggles.  “‘Ow did ye ever come up wit’ t’at?” she asked when she got her breath back.

Kurin took back ‘Barad’s Life’ and said, “I sell toys and tell stories and entertain children.  Sometimes with slight of hand.” The egg vanished, only to reappear in her other hand.  Then it vanished again and was pulled, with every appearance of effort from her ear.

Kimson was still looking at Kurin in something like fear.  He asked, “how did you appear in the room like that?  I didn’t see you come in at all.”

“Red weed flour dust,” Kurin answered.  “I tossed some into the air and set it off with that little candle.  While you were distracted by the flash, I stepped in.”

“Wye’d ‘e act like ‘t ‘urt wen ye pulled ‘is ‘life’ out o’ ‘is neck?” Tanlin asked.

“Because it did,” Kurin explained.  “While I was blowing out and dying these eggs, I rubbed hot sauce base on the outside of the index fingers of my gloves.  Before I closed the holes in the ends of the eggs I put some of the hot sauce base inside each one.”

“So. . .’is ‘life’ ‘urt ‘is ‘and t’e same way ‘goin’ in’ as ‘t did ‘goin’ out’?” Tanlin finished.  “A lovely touch.”

“You are a fast study yourself,” Kurin complimented.  “Your trapped here for weeks line and that bit of terror for Barad’s life made the whole thing live.  You would have been a good actress.”

Seeing Tanlin’s expression of hurt mixed with confusion and anger, Kurin said, “I’m not sure how I’ve offended you but I did not mean to.  Don’t you have entertainments and plays in the Arrakan fleet?”

Confusion clearing up, Tanlin replied, “Certain we do.  T’at’s respectable mummin’.  Mumming’s fun an’ ‘elps t’e small fry t’ learn t’eir ‘istory an’ Dragon legends.  Actors are crew ‘oo lie an’ cheat.”

“Then what I wanted to say was that you’d have made a great mummer.  OK?”

“Now t’at Oi ‘ave yer drift, aye,” Tanlin agreed smile returning. “Are we goin’ t’ play t’e same trick on Silor?”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Vlog #16 - Would You Rather

Moyo began the vlog in English, because he was better at it than anyone else in the group.

“What’s up, guys? Welcome back to another thrilling vlog from your favorite Broerrs.” The rest could be in Flemish.

Robbe, Jens, and Aaron burst into cheers in the background. Robbe winked at the camera, but not really, since Sander was the one trying to steady the tripod in front of the group. Something on its left side had broken last time they used it. Sander winked back.

“We’ve been reading your comments,” continued Moyo.

Jens made a face of disgust. “Honestly, sometimes I regret it.”

“We regret it a lot. Sometimes.”

Robbe knew exactly the comment they were referencing. Someone with a long, unpronounceable username decided that they wanted to be with Jens… biblically, if you will. Minus the religion. He felt scandalized to have read it. In the description of this new video, he’d include a politely worded plea to never type and send anything like that ever again.

“But we’re listening to the people, and you have spoken. We picked the next challenge. It’s time for WOULD—”

“—YOU—" said Robbe.

Jens finished the title. “—RATHER!”

Aaron sulked on the end of the couch. “What am I supposed to say?”

At this point, Moyo and Robbe would edit in a cut, some music, and a tiny little animated title to introduce the game. Sander already had a few ideas he told them he’d be willing to draw if they wanted. The cuts were the best part.

“Alright. We actually have a special guest with us today. Here, I’ll take the camera…”

Sander and Moyo traded places. Now Moyo sat behind the tripod to keep everything stable. Sander sat down in Moyo’s spot in the center of the couch. He looked even more like himself than usual—the Bowie shirt Noor bought him for Christmas, black jeans cuffed at the bottom, Docs, and a leather jacket to tie the ensemble together. Definitely more punk rock than anyone else in the frame. At Jens’s suggestion, he’d gotten his left ear pierced a week ago. The proper time had yet to elapse before he could change posts, so the same black stud with which the parlor pierced it remained in his ear.

Besides the factual part of his appearance, he made Robbe feel like his heart had jumped from a hundredth-floor window and began the freefall of a lifetime.

“This fine specimen…” Jens gestured to Sander with a dramatic flourish. He twirled a finger around a strand of Sander’s bleached hair. “… happens to be the boyfriend of our very own Robbe Ijzermans. He’ll be an honorary Broerrr, for this vlog.”

“Only this vlog?” asked Aaron.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

Sander waved at Moyo. “I’m Sander. I’m—”

The boys talked over each other, finishing the sentence for him.

“—blond.”

“—TAKEN.”

“—sexually active.”

“—a much beloved children’s movie character.”

“Oh, oh! I’ve got it. A distant relative of Queen Elizabeth.”

The edits with this portion of the video would be hilarious for sure.

“—an art student in university and Robbe’s boyfriend,” said Sander. “I’m honored to be here with the Broerrs today.”

It had been Moyo’s suggestion to add Sander to the vlogs. He’d approached Robbe after class and tried to bring up the subject naturally, citing something about how Sander hung out with them all the time anyway, and it would make sense to include him. Robbe knew it was another peace offering. Ever since he called Sander gross for liking both boys and girls, he’d been trying to make up for it over and over again.

The truth was, Robbe forgave him at the slightest sign of repentance. He wasn’t one to hold grudges. It did feel good, though, to know that Moyo truly regretted his past actions and made a conscious effort to avoid similar ones.

“We asked you guys to send us your burning would-you-rather questions, and you did not disappoint.” Jens shook a hat in front of the camera. “An impartial third party—”

“Jana!” yelled Aaron.

“—picked out the best ones and put them in this hat. Each of us is going to pick one out to read, and then everyone has to answer it. You’re not allowed to not answer. And yes, you have to explain your reasons.

“I’m going first. Question one.” Jens cleared his throat to begin. “Would you rather your shower always be freezing cold, or always be the perfect temperature with bad water pressure?” He barely needed any time to think. “Cold shower. It’s good for your skin.” He turned to the others around him. “What say you?”

Sander took Robbe’s hand and set it down on his knee, for no apparent reason, and it made Robbe blush. “I would say we’re the warm shower type.” He was right. Robbe took a cold shower approximately one time in his entire life, and it was when he had to wash the blood from his clothing after— no thanks. He liked the temperature scalding.

“Warm is the way,” Aaron agreed. “Water pressure makes no difference.”

“Disagree.” Even off-camera, Moyo needed his opinion heard. He balanced the tripod as best he could and ran to sit on the arm of the couch, his shoulder brushing with Robbe’s. “I’m with Jens. Cold water tightens your skin or something. Young skin. Fuck yeah.”

Sander laughed. Robbe would never get tired of hearing that laugh. “I’d rather be warm than have young skin. Comfort above appearance.”

This reply made Jens scoff. “You can afford to say that, because you’re beautiful.”

Another cut there, probably. Sander could animate a little picture of a shower or something. Damn, it was really going to pay off to have a boyfriend capable of high-level art techniques.

He decided he liked seeing Sander and the boys together like this. Two worlds he’d suffered to keep separate, now colliding. Instead of the death of the universe, though, all that happened as a result was good-natured banter. They looked comfortable with each other, no tension or withdrawal whatsoever.

Aaron drew from the hat next. “Would you rather speak every language but not understand them spoken to you, or understand every language spoken to you but not be able to speak them? Did I say that right?”

“Yeah,” said Jens. “It’s just badly worded.”

No one had a fast answer to this question. In the final edit, they’d need to cut out a good chunk of footage, because everyone argued over each other in a fashion so violent it couldn’t be understood. At one point, while trying to make the point that speaking and understanding could only exist in tandem and therefore the question was irrelevant, Jens noticed he was wearing the same earring as Sander. They halted the disagreement to talk about it. Two minutes of unusable content.

Robbe answered first. “Understand. I think it’d be cool to know if people were talking shit about me in the grocery store.”

“Speak,” said Moyo. “Because chicks think it’s hot.”

Jens went for logic over desire. “Understand, so I could go abroad and not look like an idiot when people talk to me.”

Aaron, clearly at a loss, just nodded. “Yeah, I think whatever Jens thinks.”

Sander took the question deeper than the others, which made Robbe proud and concerned at the same time. “Speak, because it doesn’t say that I wouldn’t be able to understand written messages. As long as I can speak it, it means that I can translate it in my head, which means I can ask people to write things down for me.” He thought for another second before continuing, “It wouldn’t work the same way with understanding, because you wouldn’t necessarily master the pronunciation just because you can listen to what other people are saying.”

A comprehensive answer. Aaron stared in awe. “Robbe, you’re dating a genius.”

“Yeah.” Robbe squeezed Sander’s hand in between them. He could feel his heart melting inside his chest. “Clearly I’m not smart enough for this linguistic master.”

“Je t’aime encore,” Sander whispered, quirking his eyebrow. He planted a kiss on Robbe’s lips.

This inspired Moyo to lean sideways and fall off the arm of the couch so that he landed across Robbe and Sander, his head in Sander’s lap. “Aw, ce qu'est un bon petit ami!” He broke into the largest smile Robbe had ever seen and gave Sander a fist bump. “I didn’t know you knew French!”

“Oh, well… yes.”

“We’re French buds now. Everyone else can go home. When we want to communicate in secret, we’re going to do it in French.”

“Gladly.”

“I’ve been telling the others to learn French and they haven’t listened—” 

Robbe didn’t fancy the idea of Sander hiding anything else from him via secret messages in other languages. Besides, this footage probably wasn’t any good for final production. “Okay, guys, shut up. My turn.” 

Moyo didn’t bother to mix the slips in the hat before passing it to Robbe. He picked the one on top. “Would you rather have no one attend your wedding, or no one attend your funeral?” There was an obvious answer to this question. Jana shouldn’t have picked this out of all the submissions they received, especially since Robbe swore he saw one about having oatmeal poured up your nose. “Funeral. It’s not my problem if I’m dead.”

Jens looked this way and that. “We’re probably all in agreement.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Actually,” said Sander, “I’d say wedding.”

Leave it to Sander to pick the unpopular answer. Robbe imagined the animation they’d put beside Sander’s head; a thumbs-down would convey the emotion pretty well. “Give your reasons, then.”

“No one showing up for your funeral means that no one cares that you’re dead.” He squeezed Robbe’s hand again. “I want people to miss me.”

“You’re a better person than all of us, then.”

 Moyo’s turn came next. He had yet to move from his position across Sander and Robbe. Robbe took this as the ultimate gesture of ‘I’m okay with your sexuality and your boyfriend, and I’m still comfortable with you.’ It made him happy enough to ignore the fact that his leg was in an awkward position and now he couldn’t fix it.

“Would you rather throw up every time you saw a bird, or burp after every kiss?” Moyo took a second to consider. “Well first of all…” He reached out to tilt the camera downwards, centering himself in the frame. It ruined everything Sander had done to keep the tripod level. “…birds aren’t real. They’re drones from the government to spy on people and, in the case of rebellion, kill them. From America.”

Jens nodded enthusiastically at this idea. “So before we answer it, does this question refer to government drone birds, or only the mythical real birds?”

“All birds,” said Sander. “Real or fake.”

“And are we counting flightless birds as birds?”

“Why would we not?”

Moyo stroked his chin in contemplation. “All birds... then the kiss one.”

“You don’t get kissed enough for that to be a problem,” Aaron reassured him. This earned a punch in the chest.

Sander and Robbe shared a look. “Throw up when I see a bird,” said Sander, confidently. “We make out too much for the other one.” When he met Robbe’s eyes, Robbe felt his vision tunnel until nothing but Sander remained in his sight line. He was too fucking in love for his own good. “Imagine if every time we kissed I had to stop and burp!”

“Nasty.”

They went around the group again, each choosing a question and answering it. The highlights were pretty obvious, even as they filmed it. All the earlier questions were gold compared to the later ones. Robbe wasn’t there to see Jana weed through the options, so he didn’t necessarily know that she had. For all he knew, she’d just picked the first thirty comments and threw them in the hat.

He passed the time by analyzing the way Sander reacted to different statements. He expected his boyfriend to be shy, or awkward, or even just a little guarded. Instead, Sander was an open book. He laughed with his full chest, made faces when the boys said things he didn’t like, went so far as to slap Jens on the shoulder when Jens mentioned prioritizing breakfast over his attendance. Like a member of the squad. 

Yes, these were two worlds. But what if they could be mixed into one? 

“Okay, Last question, last question.” Moyo held the hat out in front of Sander. “Sander’s going to read this one, so it better be good.” He shook the hat a couple times to mix things around, even though there was only one slip of paper left. Sander reached inside and grabbed the remainder.

He read it. “Would you rather not have sex with a goat but have everyone believe you did, or have sex with a goat but no one will ever find out?” He paused, mumbled through the words over again, and looked into the camera. “What kind of crack do you guys smoke?”

“Pick one,” Moyo ordered.

Jens leaned in close, so his face took up the entire lens. “This is how we determine if he’s worthy of our Robbe. What he answers right here.” He sat back in his chair. “There’s a correct answer, Sander, so choose carefully.”

Robbe imagined the final YouTube version would include an edited still of himself and Sander with a question mark dangling in between them. Some fire emojis, perhaps.

“How can there be a right answer?”

In lieu of a sophisticated reply, the other boys began to chant, “Choose, choose, choose choose.”

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands to signal for a grand pause. “I’d rather not fuck the goat.”

The group dissolved into a chorus of laughter. Robbe was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see whatever graphic Moyo selected in the final for this part. Actually, it might just be a goat emoji. He still wouldn’t want to see it in the context of this conversation.

“So you want everyone to think you fucked the goat?” Jens used his newscaster voice and offered an invisible microphone to Sander, who pushed his hand away.

“Well no, but if it’s that or actually fuck the goat—”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “I’d fuck the goat.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. It’d be a one-time thing. If I didn’t fuck the goat, I’d never be able to live down fucking the goat. So y’know, lose-lose.”

“No, but if you fuck the goat then you’ve fucked a goat.”

“It’s a no from me.” Jens held up his hands in surrender. “Let people think what they want.”

Moyo tilted his head back a little more so he could make eye contact with Jens. “Yeah, no from me too.” Robbe noticed that Moyo’s head must be digging into Sander’s thigh, but Sander seemed unbothered.

“Either way, you get the consequences of having fucked the goat.” Aaron tried to justify his previous statement. “It’s a matter of physical versus social. I think I can deal with the physical, but I know my image can’t handle the social.”

Sander blinked incredulously. “ You’d prefer bestiality over a rumor? What the fuck...”

“Please stop talking about fucking goats,” Robbe interjected. “I’m getting mental images.”

Sander tilted his head until it rested on Robbe’s shoulder. He looked up at his boyfriend with a tiny mischievous smile. “Do they turn you on?”

At this point, Jens decided that the vlog needed to be over. He hopped up from the couch and announced, “Well, this has been a great time. Don’t forget to like and subscribe to this channel to see more of us losers and—”

Robbe cut him off. “The only loser today is Amber, who may have just found out her boyfriend would fuck a goat.”

“Not in just any circumstance—” Aaron protested, but Moyo spoke louder than him.

“Peace out, dudes.”

He clicked the camera off. 

[bradleycabotlowell]

Happy Birthday

October 1989

There had been girls, of course. Bradley was a good-looking, clean-cut boy from a good family. It only made sense that he’d already had a couple girlfriends by the time he reached his sixteenth birthday. Nothing too glamorous, of course—usually just somebody’s mom dropping off the awkward couple at South Shore Plaza or the movie theater for a few hours after school. As awkward as dating was without a driver’s license, though, a kiss here and there from a pretty girl kept him sufficiently satisfied. Kept his mind from wandering to places he was afraid to explore.

That is, until the new kid in school came along.

Luca Bresciani had just started at Milton Academy that year in Class II, the same class as Bradley. His father was a wealthy Milanese businessman who had moved to Boston for a year to expand the company’s American operations. Bradley had learned all of this on the first day of school, when he had been assigned to show Luca around campus. Though Luca had been on the periphery of his social circle for the past month and a half, Bradley had, puzzlingly, no idea how to talk to him. Seeing him and entering into conversation always tied his tongue in knots like no one else could.

There was something bewildering about Luca. Something that set him apart. He wore a leather jacket. He wrote poetry. He wore his jet black hair long, down to his shoulders, in some sort of shag or mullet style. He had big, earnest dark eyes with long eyelashes, and when he smiled at Bradley, it was such a soft, gentle smile. He looks like someone breathed life into a Caravaggio painting, he once thought, extremely heterosexually and without a hint of pretension. Imagine being close enough to try and count his eyelashes. There was a meanness to Bradley, or perhaps just an aloofness. But he couldn’t bring himself to treat Luca cruelly. He completely, utterly fell apart around him.

Thinking about Luca made every cell in Bradley’s body ache. And that terrified him.

As October drew to a close and the days grew ever shorter, Bradley reached his sixteenth birthday. That day, as the non-boarding students prepared to go home, Luca cornered Bradley in the hallway, biting his lip and not making eye contact. Bradley’s heart lurched. “Hi, Bradley. I heard that today is your birthday. I made you something. I hope you do not dislike it.”

Bradley stared, wide-eyed, as Luca shoved a small package into his hands. “I…uh…thank you. How do you say, ‘happy birthday’ in Italian?”

A tiny, wavering smile. “Buon compleanno.”

Bradley returned the smile, unable to hide his own nervousness. “Grazie.”

He practically ran home, the present from Luca burning a hole in his pocket. Without saying hello as he came in the door, he bolted straight up to his room and locked the door behind him. His parents could never know. They’d never approve. His hands trembled as he tore open the wrapping paper, revealing a cassette tape. The label read, simply “To Bradley From Luca – Oct. 1989.” There was no track listing.

Perplexed, he popped it into his tape player and pressed play. Luca’s mixtape began with The Smiths. A solid enough start, even if they weren’t necessarily the kind of music Bradley tended to enjoy. But, as the mix continued, his heart thudded up to his throat. These were all love songs. Every last one. He continued to sit on the edge of his bed, petrified, as the last song on the second side of the cassette faded out. What was he going to do?

“BRADLEY! SUPPER IS READY.”

“I’LL BE RIGHT DOWN, MOTHER.” He jumped up, ejected the tape from the player, and stuffed it into his pillowcase. They couldn’t know. Nobody could know.

With Bradley’s older brothers and sister away at college, only Bradley and his parents sat down to dinner. Father seemed to be halfway through a story when Bradley reached the table. As Bradley listened, the gist of the story seemed to be that a colleague of his father’s had just been revealed to be gay—a fact that only came to light because of a recent AIDS diagnosis. “Ed’s a smart guy and a good worker. Such a shame he’s going out like this.” Mother mumbled something in agreement, and Father continued. “I mean, you have to pity people like that, but on the other hand, this wouldn’t be happening to them if they didn’t choose to live their lives that way. You know what I mean?”

“Of course,” Mother intoned flatly. She turned to look at Bradley, who was determinedly staring into his mashed potatoes. It was far from the first time Mother or Father spoke this way. They talked this way about gays a lot. But why did it have to be today? “How has your birthday been going so far, Bradley?”

Bradley shrugged, wishing he could either die in a hole or never feel a single emotion ever again. “Oh, can’t complain.”

“That’s good. Please pass the peas.”

As he picked at his dinner and, afterwards, his birthday cake, Bradley reflected upon the mixtape and Luca and how it all made him feel. He couldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t be this way. There was no way he could while living the life he was supposed to live. A life with Harvard and a trust fund and a well-paying job and garden parties and yacht club memberships couldn’t happen without his parents’ support. It couldn’t happen if he openly indulged in his true nature and his parents knew about it. It was like his father said: he could choose not to live his life that way.

In the following weeks and months, Bradley tried to avoid Luca at school. At first, Luca looked at him hopefully from across classrooms and courtyards. Honestly, the hope lasted longer than Bradley thought it would. Then, by Christmas, the hope withered away into sadness. Both the hope and the sadness broke Bradley’s heart to see, but he was utterly determined not to listen to his heart anymore. Not about this sort of thing. Luca had softened him for a brief glimmer of a moment, but he’d softened him far too much.

The school year ended. Luca Bresciani moved back to Italy. Bradley Cabot Lowell put the mixtape away somewhere and tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. They never spoke to each other again.

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

October 2019

Bradley spent his 46th birthday cleaning out the attic. As he reorganized some of his high school and college things, his hand brushed against something small and plastic at the bottom of the box. Pulling it out, he saw something he had not seen in thirty years.

“To Bradley From Luca – Oct. 1989.”

Curiosity got the better of Bradley and he got his phone out. Swiping over to Facebook, he searched for Luca there for the first time. Sure enough, a Luca Bresciani appeared in the results. He listed his location as “London, United Kingdom” and he and Bradley shared some mutual friends. He looked older now, of course: his hair was short and graying and he had a few new lines on his face. Luca had an arm wrapped around another man, equally handsome and happy-looking, in his profile picture. Bradley noticed their wedding rings. Opening the profile picture, he saw a few comments, in both English and Italian. “You and Steven look so happy together,” and things to that effect. He closed the profile picture and hovered over the “Add Friend” button for a good ten seconds.

Shaking his head, Bradley exited the app and returned his phone to his pocket. He went looking for a cassette player instead.

He felt the old ache again, but different now. Had it been worth it to hide yourself away, Lowell? Wife you despise, kids you resent, and all the money in the world? Had it all been fucking worth it? Another sullen thought occurred to him as he found a cassette player, dusted it off, and plugged it in: He probably doesn’t even remember me. Internally at war with himself and trying to repress this sudden groundswell of emotion, he made matters worse by popping in the tape and pressing the play button against his better judgment.

Take me out tonight

Where there’s music and there’s people

And they’re young and alive…

[kiki-wiccan]

    “Oh?” Stanislav arched a brow curiously, though he avoided expressing his enjoyment in knowing that he’d been the first person Kiki had sung to in some time. Perhaps it was returning the favor of having heard him play piano that one night--though it seemed long ago. Before the fire, before the threat drew evermore closer.

      By now, the vampire king had grown quite accustomed to relishing in the wiccan’s touch--the only person allowed to grab his hand without any form of warning--and he returned his lover’s squeeze with his own. Watching Kiki’s gaze flicker to the piano; he observed her reluctance at first. By no means would he force his human to partake in something she didn’t wish to; given he had set aside ample time to provide Kiki with attention. Having attuned to her feelings of sorrow and paranoia, he hoped to soothe her--albeit in his own non-direct way, seeing as Stanislav preferred to keep his emotions to himself.

            Allowing the wiccan to take hold of her phone and look for sheet music, Stanislav felt somewhat relieved he could release his own stress via the piano. Of course he wasn’t keen on voicing his worries--though he trust Kiki almost entirely, he much preferred to keep his personal feelings out of the picture--and once Kiki had selected her song of choice, he took a moment to stare at the notes almost as if searing them into his mind, his focus.

             Both hands hovering over the keys, he began to play the notes seamlessly despite being unfamiliar with the song. While he could recall the band being popular, particularly within the early 2000s, it wasn’t Stanislav’s usual genre of choice. Being the pianist he was, he was able to retain focus; only looking to the sheet music every so often though he knew he was hitting every note. It came with having centuries’ practice.

        Kiki’s voice ringing alongside the melody of the piano within the vacant penthouse; the elder vampire felt himself slipping into a mindset he often found himself venturing into with the human. It was scary knowing she had such a tight hold on him, but given he could feel her every emotion; he assured himself that Kiki was the right person.

          Closing his eyes momentarily as his digits pressed down on white keys, Stanislav could feel the human’s every emotion as if they were his own. It was every bit unusual as it was comforting to know he had forged a connection, a bond with Kiki that he never though he’d have the chance to experience in his un-dead life. All the while, Stanislav continued to play for his human, keeping himself composed seeing as the vampire understood Kiki’s feelings were not his own despite their intensity.

It really was like the two were in their own little world, no worries outside of the music they were making. Could they just stay like this forever? In their own little bubble? She allowed all her sorrows and emotions to be carried out with each lyric that left her lips. She’d used singing and playing the guitar as a coping mechanism in the past. However she found it was much more effective when done with someone else, someone she trusted. Her desire to drink away her problems had completely dissolved and left her mind. It was nice not feeling the pull to get wasted as a temporary solution to her problems. As the song came to an end she glanced over to her vampire with a small smile dancing on her lips. “It’s really nice being able to sing with you...and listen to you play!”

She reached for her phone and snatched it back off of the music stand. Her fingers swiping away at the screen as she browsed for another song. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on passing titles. “Oh! You remember how I texted you once about Disney movies? This is a song from one of my favorites. It’s from a movie called hunchback of notre dame. It was a more darker film, probably Disney’s darkest film.” She backed out of her music app and searched up the piano sheet. “This is the song that the villain sang....I used to sing it along with the movie, it was the best song in the film! Well at least to me it was....” realizing she was rambling on she shut her lips and placed the phone back on the stand. Kicking her legs slowly under the piano bench as she observed her vampire beginning to play.

“Beata Maria, You know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue I am justly proud. Beata Maria, You know I’m so much purer than the common vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. Then tell me, Maria. Why I see her dancing there why her smold’ring eyes still scorch my soul. I feel her! I see her! The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control!” Resting her hand on her chest as she sang. A lot of the notes were powerful but she hit every one. “Like fire, hellfire, this fire in my skin. This burning, desire, is turning me to sin....it’s not my fault, I’m not to blame! It is the Gypsy girl the witch who set this flame! It’s not my fault! If in gods plan...he made the devil so much stronger than a man!” Her sole focus at that moment was the melody and her singing. Though deeper down her emotions were flaring up. “Protect me Maria don’t let this siren cast her spell. Don’t let her fire sear my flesh and bone...destroy Esmeralda and let her taste the fires of hell! Or else let her be mine and mine alone....” she stopped swinging her legs. “Hellfire, dark fire, now gypsy it’s your turn. Choose me or your pyre, be mine or you will burn” letting her hand drop to her lap. “God have mercy on her, god have mercy on me....but she will be mine or she will burn!!” The last not rang out throughout the vacant apartment.

[queerchoicesblog]

Prom Night (RoD, Ximena x MC)

This fanfic was requested by @desiree-0816 for the @choicesnovemberchallenge by @ramseyandrys . I would like to apologise as I couldn’t deliver your request fully (the 21st bday). I have been busier than expected lately and I’m struggling with motivation and my muse lately, at least for Choices fics. So to meet this deadline and honor your request, I adapted an old wip that I hope will fit into the celebration prompt. I will write the bday fic in the future, if you wish: let me know!

Inspired by the song Driven By You (which is THE Ximena x MC song, paired with Uptown Girl), that’s how I imagine the prom night with Ximena we never got in the original book.

Prompt: Celebration

Word Count: 1952

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bhavf @melodyofgraves​ @strangerofbraidwood​ @abunchofbadchoices​ @silverhawkenzie​ @begging-for-kamilah​ @kennaxval​ @kamilahmykween​ @universallypizzataco​ @gayestchoices​ @embarrassingsmartphonegame​

Ximena Tag: @bobasheebaby @boneandfur

__________________________

It all felt so unreal. Standing in the middle of a crowded room full of people having the time of their lives - or at least pretending to have the time of their lives- taking selfies with each other, cracking jokes and sharing gossips, dancing to the beat, whispering sweet nothing or naughty compliments into each other ears' at the side of the dance floor. Ordinary prom stuff, ordinary life stuff but lately Ellie's life had been nothing but ordinary. Crowded places gave her a bit of anxiety and she couldn't blend in. Somewhere in the crowd one of her father's agents, Erica, was following her, guarding over her. Typical prom stuff, right?

She sighed and gave an apologetic look to Reya: she hadn't listened to a word she said, but she didn't tell her, she didn't want to hurt her feelings. She was trying to help, somehow, even if it wasn't working. She excused herself telling she needed to go to the loo and refused her friend's offer to walk her there. "I'll be fine, worry not" she said, before making a beeline to agent Erica and asking her to let her head outside for a moment.

"Are you feeling okay, Ellie?" the agent asked, searching her eyes.

"Yeah I just some fresh air, this is all so...overwhelming" she winced.

"I get it, sweetheart" Erica grimaced sympathetically. "But your father explicitl-"

"Just five minutes, please"

Erica was visibly torn and surprised by the grim intensity of the plea. She agreed to let her go. "I'll go check on you in ten minutes, okay girl?"

She liked Erica, she was a very empathetic woman and a good agent. She thanked her and walked into the parking lot of her school. She didn't like the idea of being alone in that place but she needed a break from the party atmosphere. It was all too fast, too much. She didn't even want to go: what was the point? She didn't even a date and she wasn't in the mood for listening to Reya's love issues.

She hugged herself as the night breeze blew over her, playing with her curls. She sighed: well, if only a certain someone was here now, she could certainly use one of her bear hugs. A weak smile drew on her lips as she reminisced her first meeting with Ximena. Good-hearted, funny, gorgeous X.. God knows where she was now: Ellie could only hope she was somewhere safe, out of reach for those criminals. Yet she missed her terribly, tonight more than ever. She had fantasized about her favorite driver surprising her on the prom night, walking inside the room on her arms, dancing the night away with her.

She smiled sadly to herself. What a naive fool she was. What a silly teenage girl with impossible fantasies...

She inhaled deeply and stared into the distance. The night was quiet and the moon shone oh so brightly in the sky. The perfect setting for a romcom, she joked internally. The parking lot was packed just like the room she had just left. A black SUV gleaming in the moonlight caught her eye. It looked familiar but our minds might trick us easily. She checked twice, just in case.

And...Ximena was there. She stood leaning on her car, one foot rested on the side of her SUV, arms folded over her chest. It took a while to Ellie to recognize her but when she did, she gasped and blushed furiously, thankful that her crush couldn’t see her in the dark. X. was wearing a black and white male suit: black pants matching a pair of black suspenders and bow tie and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up past her elbow to reveal her tattoos. Her hair was up in a ponytail.

She was looking the other way when Ellie arrived but when she spotted the Alvarez girl a huge smile lightened up her face. Her uptown girl was safe!

“El…”

She took a step closer than stopped, as if suddenly shy or unsure of what to do.

“X.! Oh my God I’m so happy to see you, I was so worried but….what are you doing here?”

Ellie had to summon every ounce of self-restraint not to start stuttering or to jump into X.'s strong arms. She had been so worried and blue after her father told her what happened at the casino. She was relieved that she was still alive but the thought that she might have never seen Ximena, again, like ever again tore her teen heart apart. But now her sweet Amazon was standing right in front of her. And she was dashing and flashing her an irresistible smirk.

“A birdie told me that there’s a prom night going on tonight so” she explained gesturing at her outfit. “I thought to dress up and stop by”

“And you’re gorgeous, Ximena! I-I mean…” ​ Ximena gave her an amused yet exquisitely soft smile in full response, probably noticing how pink her cheeks were now. ​ “Thanks, princess. But I can’t stand a chance with you” X. noted, taking in the sight of Ellie in the gorgeous lacy dress. ​ An awkward silence fell between them, as they both were overwhelmed by the joy to be together again after all the troubles…despite being so out of place. Proms were completely out of their comfort zones. And they knew it. X. folded her hands in her pockets and broke the silence. ​ “So I’ve never been to one of these fancy proms but I’ve heard that they involve a lot of dancing, right?” ​ “Yes, I guess it’s one way to put it” Ellie confirmed, giggling at the understatement. ​ “Thought so! Then I know just the thing…” ​ She winked and opened the door of her car in a swift move. She quickly moved inside but got out after a moment, gallantly offering the girl’s a hand.

“Shall we dance, Ellie?”

Ellie gaped, looking around in confusion.

“What…you mean here? But there’s no music?”

Ximena grinned as if she was expecting that objection. She flashed Ellie an affectionate smile and picked a small remote controller out of the pocket of her pants. As she hit the button, the stereo in her car started playing a Queen song, one of X.’s all-time favorite.

Ellie giggled at first before smiling brightly at her unexpected prom date.

“May I have this dance, princess?” Ximena asked in the softest tone.

Ellie nodded, head over hills with happiness, and placed her hand on top of hers. Ximena gently pulled her closer, tossing the controller inside the car to rest her free hand on her uptown girl’s hip.

We touch and you’re afraid of me And we burn and now I’m at your feet High speed, but you know you’re in safe hands

As if reacting to the lyrics, Ellie raised herself up on the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around X.'s neck and another ecstatic smile formed on her lips as the two of them started swaying. The rest of the world, the parking lot, the school prom inexorably faded away.

Ooh, in the dark we make a brighter light From one spark to the horizon wide We trust, and together we tame the land, yeah

Ximena’s hands moved to Ellie’s small back as the girl adjusted her head over the gentle Amazon’s collarbone, sighing contently. It’s something out of a movie, a romantic movie and it’s happening! If I'm dreaming please don't wake me, she squealed internally.

Oh you’d be forgiven if you think you’re dreaming But we’re working night and day to make a dream come true, yeah Everything I do is driven by you

Warmth spread all over Ximena as she rested her cheek on top of the Alvarez girl's head. She inhaled the familiar scent of her coconut conditioner and for once forgot about all the troubles with the Brotherhood. There was no room for them now as she lost herself in the music and the feeling of Ellie's body pressed against herself.

Hold on tight to the driving wheel This ride is really out of line Raw deal, but there’s no other that’s worth a dime

Ellie was the first to break the charmed silence between the. A happy sigh turned into a little confession as words slipped out of her mouth...but this time she didn't care.

"I’m…I’m so happy that you’re here, X.”

“Let me guess? Worried about this prom thing?” X. attempted a joke as a tender smile formed brightened her face.

“Maybe a little.”

They both giggled. Then Ellie took a deep breath and parted just enough to face the young woman. She raised her eyes to meet Ximena's and hoped they could convey all the feelings inside her: concern, affection...that scary "l" word. It's now or never, El, she repeated to herself.

“But mostly about you. I guess the truth is I like you, X. Really like you”

Ximena’s eyes widened and she gaped but quickly recovered and offered Ellie the softest smile.

You know I love you but you drive me crazy ‘Cause you’re saying all the things I want to say to you

“And to me there’s no other worth a dime” Ximena whispered, quoting the lyrics.

Ellie felt her cheeks and her heart set on fire. She opened her mouth to say something but her breath was caught short as she processed what X. just said. Before she could think of what to say next, Ximena hushed her.

“It's okay...Ellie, I- may I...” she said slowly leaning down.

As if drawn to a magnet, Ellie rose on tiptoe and met her halfway. X. claimed her lips in a tender kiss. Their mouths met once, twice as the buzz of the prom party inside grew distant. Caught in the bliss of that kiss, Ellie pressed herself against the gentle Amazon, taking her by surprise and sending the driver to backpedal against the car. When Ellie parted to mutter an apology Ximena just giggled and pulled her close, capturing her lips once more in a fierce kiss that took her breath away.

When eventually she pulled back, the first thing Ellie saw opening her eyes was Ximena checking on her.

"Is this okay, El?" she asked, her voice soft just as her smile.

It took a moment to Ellie to reply: she felt dizzy, ecstatic...the happiest she had ever been.

"Yeah, I mean of course...I-  wow"

Ximena's lips curled into an amused smile still filled with tenderness. She stroke Ellie's cheek and wiped off some of her smeared chapstick with her thumb.

"Happy prom, princess"

"Best prom ever" Ellie sighed happily, leaning to the touch.

Then she tipped her lips, a little cute gestured that made Ximena fell a bit more for her "uptown girl". The kiss was slow and deep, intoxicating...but Ximena pulled away too soon, almost abruptly. Ellie felt a pang of rejection: was it all over already? When she looked up at Ximena she noticed that her jaw, that jaw she was craving so hard to kiss, was now clenched and her eyes wandered above her head. Then they stopped and the grip on her hip tightened.

"El, get in the car"

"What? Wher-" she asked, not understanding what just happened but feeling cold chills ran down her spine.

"I'll be damned if they lay a finger on you again" Ximena explained, her tone hardened as she threw daggers at someone in the distance.

"We gotta go, princess. And fast" her voice softened a little as she shielded her with her body and gently pushed her inside the car just in time before a gunshot rang into the distance.

[zebrabaker]

Songbird; Prologue

Here we go! PLEASE let me know what you think!

“Just take a swan dive off a roof!” Those words rung in her head, and she blinked slowly, looking around. She was on the school roof, with her bag, jacket, tie, case, socks and shoes sitting behind her. She must have disassociated again, as she had no memory of coming up here. Her breathing was a little labored, and her eyes were tender. She must have been crying, and from the way her legs burned she must have done some serious running. She sat down so that her legs dangled over the edge, and watched the sunset. Mom would be getting worried soon, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Tonight, would be the night the monthly check came in…Mom always cried a little when she saw it. She would too, if she got a check every month just because her husband was dead. Even with the check, money was tight. Inko was a single mother, trying to raise a daughter with a slew of hobbies. Every time she even mentioned dropping one, Mom insisted that she could handle it. It was a lie, they both knew it, but to Inko it was the best she could do.

Mom probably wouldn’t be home for several hours yet anyway, she had mentioned taking on a late shift in the NICU tonight…she should have time.

She grabbed her bag, and dug around until she found her violin case. She rolled her neck as she drew her violin and bow. She stood, tucked the rosewood violin under her chin, and drew the bow across the strings. The first note echoed into the still evening air, and she smiled to herself.

With the ease of practice, she launched into her favorite warm-up. It was a simple piece, one of the first she had learned. The music rang out, cool and clear, and she twirled a little as she finished out the piece, enjoying the way her hair flowed in the wind. She panted a bit once she had finished, and gently popped her knuckles. Now came the best part, her favorite song.

She gently situated herself, corrected her posture, and began to play, humming the lyrics in her mind.

‘Wandering child of the Earth, do you know just how much your worth? You have walked this path since your birth you were destined for more.’

She launched into the first verse with vigor, sending the music out into the twilight. As the second round of the chorus snuck up, she quickly shook out her left hand, before plucking at the strings once more. She played on, watching the setting of the sun, the way the fiery orb painted the sky dozens of shades. When she finished the song, she pulled the instrument away from her face and bowed to her imaginary audience. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone begin to heartily applaud from an adjacent rooftop.

X0X0X

Shouta and Hizashi had started patrol early, and had been out for half an hour when something caught Shouta’s eye. A few rooftops over, there was a small figure standing near the edge of the roof. As he snuck closer, signaling Mic to follow and stay quiet, he saw it was a young girl, probably not even in her first year of high school. She had stood there for a few minutes, not moving, before she seemed to snap back to herself. She looked around for a moment. It looked like she was trying to figure out where she was. His heart seized when the girl sat with her legs dangling over the edge. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds, she stood, before crouching to grab something.

He saw Mic perk up when the girl stood up holding a violin. She went perfectly still, and the world seemed to hold it’s breath, before she began to play. Mic slapped his arm gently when the melody became recognizable as Iz’s ‘Over the Rainbow’. It was beautifully played, and the girl was smiling softly as she gently pulled the bow across the strings. She twirled as she played the final note, before lifting her violin once more. The song she played was one he vaguely knew; it was an old lullaby his sister would sing to his niece to get her to sleep. Once the girl had finished the song, she bowed to no-one, before Mic began clapping like an over-excited toddler. Aizawa, thanks to years of practice, managed to erase his quirk before he could shatter the poor girl’s eardrums. The girl whirled around, going pink when she saw them. She almost dropped her violin, when she began frantically moving her hands. When the rosewood instrument nearly fell, she stopped long enough squat down to set it back in it’s case. When she stood back up, she was beaming, and he recognized her hand movements. She was using JSL, trying to communicate.

“Slow down there, little listener!” Mic chuckled, signing as he spoke. The girl turned bright red, before slowing down considerably.

‘Hi! I’m Izumi Midoriya! It’s so cool to meet you both! I’m a huge fan! Sorry I went so fast, I got really excited. Neither of you are seen that often, so it’s a pretty big shock to see both Eraserhead and Present Mic!’ Her movements were concise, clear, and easily interpreted. She obviously had been using sign to communicate for a while, possibly her whole life.

“Good to meet you too, little listener! Where did you learn to play like that?” Mic enthused.

‘My neighbor taught me, along with flute, piano and harp. Flute hurts me lungs if I play too much, but I love music! It lets me put my emotions out in the world, since I’ve been mute since I was three.’ She signed this all like it was just a fact of life for her, like ‘The sky is blue’, or ‘All Might is the number one hero’. For her, it probably was, considering she looked almost fourteen.

“What are you doing out so late?” He interrupted Mic’s tirade of compliments.

‘I’m not actually sure…I disassociate sometimes. I’m not even sure what time it is, since my phone is dead. My last clear memory is from earlier today.’ Her face darkened, and she began to pick at her nails.

“Have you called anyone? Let them know where you are?” Mic asked, clearly concerned.

‘No. My Dad’s…gone, and Mom is working late in the NICU tonight. It’s just the two of us, so I usually stay out of the house on nights she works late.’ The girl seemed confused when the two shared a look.

“HEEEY! How would you like an escort from two Pro Heroes?!!” Mic screamed, making the poor girl jump a bit.

‘Sure!’ She signed, before snagging all of her things. She carefully packed her violin away, ensuring there was nothing clinging to the strings or bow. She slid her feet into her socks and shoes, shrugging into her jacket as she headed for the roof access, which was propped open with a brick.

“What were you doing on the roof?” Aizawa asked. For a few minutes, she had looked like she was going to jump. The girl whirled around, taking the steps backwards, moving like she had done it thousands of times.

‘I practice up there sometimes. It’s quiet, so I go up there when things get rough.’ She turned back around mid-step, and jogged down the stairs. She pulled a keyring out of her pocket, and unlocked the door at the bottom. She guided them through the halls of the school, listening to Mic chatter with a small smile. She waved to the few janitors she saw, and they all waved back, shooting glances at the oddly dressed men behind her. She just smiled and nodded when they asked if everything was okay, which seemed to reassure them.

They left the building, and followed the girl through the streets to a series of streets that were nothing but tall apartment condos. Mic and the girl kept up a rapid stream of JSL that he could barely follow. She kept walking until they reached what looked like a decent building, nearly twenty stories. She turned to them, smiling.

‘Thank you for walking me home! This is the nicest anyone has been to me in ages! Good luck on your patrol!’ With that…mildly disturbing comment, she swiped a key card at a pad beside the door, and ducked inside.

“Something is wrong.” Mic said as they turned around and began climbing a fire escape to resume patrol.

“What do you mean?” He asked, adjusting his scarf.

“She mentioned some trouble at school, and dropping a few hobbies. She said that she’s mute because of an accident as a kid, and she had a vocal quirk, and had gotten it a few days before. When the accident happened, she couldn’t use it anymore. Apparently, it caused some trouble at school.” Mic was fidgeting with his headphones, clearly uncomfortable.

“Kids can be cruel. Why are you harping on this?” Aizawa shot his boyfriend an odd look.

“I want to train her. You practically fight quirkless as is, so why can’t she?” Little did either man know, that question would shape Izumi Midoriya into the world’s greatest hero.