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bi-bard · 2 years

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Conventions - Winchester Brothers Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Conventions

Pairing: Winchester Brothers X Child!Reader (11)

Word Count: 2,406 words

Warning(s): violence, ghost, cussing, Becky Rosen (love a fellow fanfic writer, but she scares me)

Summary: (Season 5, Episode 9) (Y/n) ends up getting dragged to a convention for books written about their life with the Winchesters.

Author's Note: I love this idea so much. Really will help with some later plot points. Also, this somehow ended up messier than the original episode.

Original Character imagines here!!

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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I wasn't even supposed to be at the damn convention.

I was only with Sam and Dean because Bobby insisted that we spend some time together without worrying about the inevitable end of the world.

To quote him: "You two adopted the damn kid! At least spend a damn day with them!"

Dean and Sam wanted to focus on the hunt for the devil. I was okay with it. I didn't know all of the details because they wanted to keep me kind of sheltered from the whole thing. I just knew their work was important and I didn't want to push them away from it.

"Kid," I looked at Dean from my seat on Bobby's couch. "Ready for our day off?"

I nodded and grabbed my backpack, jogging over to him. Sam was waiting by the door.

"I don't wanna see any of you for at least 24 hours," Bobby instructed all of us. He turned his attention to Sam and Dean. "And if I hear an ounce about the devil, I'll lock the two of you in the panic room and make sure (Y/n) gets a proper vacation. Understand?"

Sam and Dean nodded.

We all walked to the car. I was almost jumping. I was so excited to finally get out of Bobby's place for a little while. I loved the man, but... I got a little bored.

"Alright, kid," Dean said as we started driving. "Have any ideas?"

I opened my mouth and then froze. I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Hey," Sam turned around in his seat. "What's wrong?"

"I just... I don't know what I want to do," I muttered. "I haven't... I haven't had a day like this since before I came to stay with you guys."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other.

"That's alright," Sam said. "We'll... We'll figure something out. It's alright."

I nodded and leaned back.

"Starting with this music," he continued.

"Touch the radio, I will bite your hand off," Dean stopped him.

I laughed in the backseat. Dean glanced back at me and smiled.

"What about a movie, kid?"

I nodded.

"Good, good," he said. "Alright, I'll track down a movie theatre for us."

It was in the middle of this hunt for a movie theatre that Dean and Sam's phones both went off with some kind of S.O.S text. They looked at each other.

"Bobby said relax," Sam said.

"He said that the only thing we couldn't look for was the devil," Dean replied. "As long as we can keep (Y/n) out of it, he technically can't get mad at us."

"Just drive," Sam muttered.

Dean stepped on the gas as Sam turned to look at me.

"Okay," he explained. "We got a really serious message from a friend of ours, okay? We're gonna go help him. Unless we tell you otherwise, don't leave at least one of our sides, okay?"

I nodded. He grinned nervously before turning to the front again.

We eventually sped into a hotel parking lot.

"Dean, they all have the same car as you," I pointed.

"What- Oh."

It was like he hadn't noticed the cars until I pointed them out.

"Great," he muttered and stormed out of the car.

I followed them out, sticking to Sam's side as we ran through the parking lot. There was a man passing outside of the hotel parking lot.

"Chuck," Sam called when he saw him. We stopped running when we got over to him. "There you are."

"Guys," the man seemed confused to see the brothers. He looked down at me. "H-Hello."

I waved silently.

"What's going on," Dean asked.

"Nothing," Chuck replied. "You know, just, um... I was kind of hanging. What are you guys doing here?"

"You told us to come," Dean said.

"Uh, no, I didn't," Chuck shook his head.

"You texted me," Sam explained. "This address. 'Life-or-death situation'. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"No, no, I didn't send you a text."

"We have our damn kid here, don't act dumb," Dean added.

"I didn't text you guys. I don't know what could've- oh... oh no."

"There's no chance that could be a kinda good 'oh no', is there," I asked.

"Sam," we all looked up at the stairs to see a woman in a plaid shirt, a vest, and a skirt. "You made it!"

She jogged down the stairs.

"Oh," Sam sighed. "Becky, right?"

"You remembered," she said. "You've been thinking about me."

Sam stammered for a second.

"It's okay, I can't get you out of my head either."

"Did you take my phone," Chuck asked her.

"No, I just borrowed it... from your pants."

My eyebrows furrowed and Dean pulled me over a little bit. That seemed to get her attention.

"Is that... Is that (Y/n)," she said excitedly. She walked forward and I moved to step behind Dean. She chuckled and went to move around him.

"Touch the kid and I will kill you."

She just scoffed and stepped back. I slowly stepped forward again.

"Becky," Chuck sighed.

"What," she replied. "They're gonna wanna see it!"

"See what," Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

Becky mumbled something about loving how they talked at the same time before a man walked out, telling Chuck that it was showtime.

Becky ran inside and Chuck looked at us.

"Guys, I'm sorry," he said before following her inside.

We followed them slowly.

We walked into the hotel to find... cosplayers. A lot of them. Most of them were dressed as Sam and Dean, but others were dressed as different monsters they hunted. There were a few people dressed as Bobby. A few people I didn't recognize. We were all confused.

"Becky," Sam turned to her. "What is this?"

"It's awesome," she said excitedly. "A Supernatural convention... the first ever."

We all were soon ushered into a convention hall. There were a whole bunch of chairs set up with fans filling into the spots.

The host of the event announced that Chuck was going to be answering some questions.

"This isn't gonna go well, is it," I asked quietly.

"We'll see," Dean mumbled back.

After a very awkward beginning, he finally opened the floor to a few questions. All of the hands in the room shot up.

The first fan stood up, "Wow. Okay. I was just wondering; where'd you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?"

"Oh, uh, I... it just came to me," Chuck shrugged.

He looked out at the crowd and pointed to another raised hand. It was a girl dressed as Bobby. She was only a few years older than me.

"I wanted to know why you added the (Y/n) character," she asked. "I love them. It just seemed like an odd decision to make Sam and Dean parents. Why?"

"Well," Chuck forced a chuckle. "I just... It felt right to have that character there."

No one was satisfied with that answer.

"As the writer, it's almost like I'm taking on a parental role with all of you," he explained. "So, in a way, (Y/n) is all of you. It's a reflection of how I see all of you."

I blinked a few times before looking at Dean. He looked down at me and shrugged.

A parental role?

All of the hands shot up again.

"Yeah, the... the hook man," Chuck pointed.

"Yeah," the man stood up. "Why, in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their gun or knife knocked away by the bad guy? Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other like they were actually considering it.

That man continued pushing until Becky finally snapped at him.

"She's like a chihuahua," I muttered. Dean nodded.

Another set of hands.

The next man that stood up was everything you expect a creep to be. Thinning hair, greasy look. Being around him made me uneasy.

"Did you ever consider a future when (Y/n) got a love interest," he asked.

"Umm, no," Chuck answered simply. "Never."

"Why not," the man pushed. Sam and Dean stepped forward, clearly ready to jump this man.

"Because (Y/n)'s like 10 and has more important things to worry about," Chuck forced another laugh. "Next question please!"

The questions continued for far too long. All of them culminated in one final announcement: Chuck was going to start publishing again.

I followed Sam and Dean out to the lobby again once the room cleared out. They stormed over to Chuck. Becky excitedly greeted Sam.

"Hey, Chuck," Dean said. "In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full. Finding the colt, hunting the devil. We don't have time for this crap!"

"Hey, I didn't call you," Chuck replied.

"He means the books, Chuck," Sam sighed. "Why are you publishing more books?"

"For food and shelter," he said with a shrug.

"Who gave you the rights to our story," Dean asked.

"Apparently God," Chuck snapped. "And I didn't want it."

"Well, deal's off, okay? No more books," Sam said. "Our lives are not for public consumption."

"Um, Becky," Chuck turned to her. "Would you excuse us for just a second?"

The four of us walked into another room. A room that was pretty much empty.

"Do you guys know what I do for a living," he asked.

"Yeah, we know," Sam said.

"Then, could you tell me," Chuck continued. "Because I don't. I'm not a good writer. I've no marketable skills, I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, okay? Until the world ends, I got to live, alright? The Supernatural books are all I've got."

Dean sighed before grabbing my shoulder and pulling me forward to look at him, "Who's this?"

"That's (Y/n)."

"A kid," Dean continued. "A kid who has been dealt a real crap hand. Why do they deserve to have you market off of their tragedy?"

Chuck looked down.

"Here's the thing," Dean explained. "I don't care about my story. I care about this kid. So, I'm gonna make myself crystal clear for you: if I see a book even mentioning (Y/n) in any way, shape, or form, I will be the one to put the bullet in your head."

Sam pulled me back a few steps.

Before any more questions could be asked, there was a loud scream.

I went to follow them. Sam stopped me.

"Stay with Chuck," he said. I nodded.

"Guys, wait," Chuck said with a sigh. He went to walk out but then looked at me. "They'll figure it out. Come on."

Chuck led me back into the lobby and sat with me at one of the tables.

"Umm... so... do you want some water... or some food," he offered awkwardly. I shook my head. "Okay."

I pulled my book out of my backpack and curled up in the chair a little. After a little while, I glanced up to see Chuck staring at Becky, who was making eyes at Sam.

"I don't think you actually like her," I said.

He looked over at me, "What?"

"Becky," I explained. "I don't think you like her. You just want her to like you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You want her to appreciate the work you do," I said. "You latched onto your biggest fan. You don't want her to be in love with you. You want her to worship you like some kind of God."

There was a moment of silence.

"It's honestly a little creepy."

"You... Are you like reading psychology books at 11-years-old?"

"A few," I shrugged.

"I'm concerned about that," he muttered. "What are you reading now?"

"It's an old history of witchcraft book," I said. "Bobby let me read it."

"Oh my god," he mumbled.

"Hey," Sam walked over. "Ready to go?"

"You guys took care of whatever was happening," I asked. He nodded. "Bye, Chuck!"

"Bye," he waved as I picked up my bag and walked away.

Then, the front doors wouldn't open.

"That's not good," I said.

"Not at all," Dean nodded. "Go sit with Chuck. We're gonna go try the other doors."

I nodded.

"Oh, hi," Chuck said as I walked back over. "You're back."

"None of the doors are opening," I explained quickly. "I would be ready to get everyone to a safe place."

"Oh... great."

Dean and Sam told us to quickly get everyone into the conference room again. After salting all of the doors, they took off and Chuck started answering more questions.

It didn't take long for that to come to a rolling stop.

Really isn't super interesting when you get into all of the details of the books.

I let out a sigh as I saw people shifting in their seats.

I jogged up to the front, "Anything else. Please."

"What do you suggest," he muttered.

"Anything besides this. None of us wanna know about your adventures at 16."

He sighed, looking out at the crowd.

"Hey," he shouted as someone went to open the door. "You can't go out there!"

The man rolled his eyes.

"Don't," I yelled.

"I won't listen to a child."

I went to run over and stop him, but I didn't make it there in time. The door was pulled open, and the salt moved. A ghost child appeared with a knife in his hand.

Before I could react, I was pulled backward, and Chuck swung a mic stand down on the ghost. It evaporated. Chuck slammed shut the door and looked at the crowd.

"I said no one leaves, damn it," he yelled. "Now someone salt this door!"

He walked over to me, "You alright?"

I nodded, "I was... I was trying to be like Sam and Dean."

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "Come on."

We managed to keep everyone in the room and calm for the remaining time it took for the boys to burn the bodies.

I followed Dean outside the next morning.

It was all pretty fast.

Sam got "dumped" by Becky. Sam and Dean threatened Chuck about writing more books. And then we left.

As we all sat in the car, I let out a sigh.

"Can we go see that movie now," I asked.

I heard Dean laugh, "Yeah, kid, sure."

We started driving away from the hotel.

"Oh, um... don't mention this to Bobby, would ya?"

I pretended to zip my lips and throw away the key.

"Atta kid."

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Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #chuck shurley fanfiction #chuck shurley x reader #chuck shurley imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

Text

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi 🌸 Patreon

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me.

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it.

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost.

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl?

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own.

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

If you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi or supporting me on patreon (even a dollar helps!), check out my Sapphic fantasy book as well!

#wlw #sapphic #found family #urban fantasy #writeblr #magical realism #fantasy stories #short story #writing #lesbian romance #patreon late release #femslash #f/f #8k #my work #long post #long post cw

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sonybees · 4 years

Text

random harry potter characters headcanons because i am bored

includes: fred, george, harry, ron, hermione, ginny, luna, seamus, dean, neville, padma, parvati, cedric, angelina, alicia, katie, cho, draco, adrian, blaise, and pansy.

warnings: slight modern!au, swearing, food mention

these are all headcanons i made on the spot so i’m sorry if they suck. i’m just really bored. it is also all over the place. a lot of these are collabs between some characters. i hope you enjoy though!

(by the way, the little dashes are just dividers)

rest under the cut!

fred would dance around his room at 3 am to literally any song.

jazz, classical, rock, metal, pop he does not give a fuck.

he woke up george once by jumping on his bed and playing all star on his electric guitar.

probably a song writer

uses “life is short” as an excuse to act on his bad decisions

dancing in the rain is one of his favorite things to do

sleeps at 3 am or pm, you decide.

hopeless romantic

good old fashioned lover boy by queen is his song

has a soft spot for hufflepuffs

george loves birds and bugs. completely unrelated to the last one but it’s true.

saw an injured bird outside his room when he was 5.

he cried and immediately took it in.

also cries when someone kills a bug.

thinks the bug’s family would be angry and disappointed in him.

enjoys painting random objects in his room

loves being called pet names

something like dear, honey, or hubby would make his heart burst

loves using them for his significant other as well

hopeless romantic part 2

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

harry is a night owl and he likes reading comic books.

he likes listening to rock music. i said what i said.

prefers being alone

likes quiet places and probably has a hideout

usually doesn’t understand poetry until he reads it like 20 times

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

ron adores ducks.

tears up when he sees them and always used to beg molly to keep them.

still tears up to this day.

not a big fan of seagulls though

he’s scared of them

but eagles are cool

likes country and rock music

also takes an interest in photography

the breakfast club is his favorite movie

has a soft spot for hufflepuffs

hermione loves listening to taylor swift.

reads to her songs always.

ravenclaws save her a special seat in their common room because a lot of them grew quite fond of her

a taste tester for hufflepuffs who go to katie’s lessons you’ll understand this later

she actually enjoys dressing up as well even if there wasn’t an event

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

ginny accompanies dean while he draws.

she just likes looking at other people do what they love so it’s not only dean.

she sometimes zones out looking at hermione read a book, always taking note of the facial expressions and guessing what she just read,

catching harry push his glasses up or cleaning them,

also is with luna every time she paints.

luna has a few artworks with ginny as her muse.

gin likes the simple things in life.

loves board games

sometimes a little too competitive

struts down the hallways with her significant other

she’d never admit it but she loves 10 things i hate about you

has a soft spot for slytherins

luna almost always goes with neville to the gardens.

she helps him with whatever he needs and sometimes draws a few stuff.

she’s a photographer too so she loves waking up early in the morning and taking photos.

amazing at braiding hair

and making flower crowns

likes reading royal fantasy books

watches 10 things i hate about you with ginny

has a soft spot for slytherins

seamus also hangs out with luna sometimes,

talking to each other about whatever.

he thinks she’s interesting and would make great conversations.

she does.

he also took some painting lessons from her

meditates

loves pumpkin juice

likes the movie my girl

has cried more than he will ever admit

has a soft spot for slytherins

dean has a wall in the boys dorm room where he puts up all his drawings.

the guys love it and always just stares at all of them in awe.

they’re all so amazing

is usually the first to notice when someone is sick

takes care of them immediately

loves sweaters

knows how to speak in latin

has a soft spot for hufflepuffs

neville goes to hagrid way more often than anyone thought.

he learned how to take care of the creatures, make some awesome tea,

he also sometimes helps hagrid clean his own house.

helps others in herbology

likes green tea

loves overalls

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

padma holds a record of the fastest writer at hogwarts

yeah, she’s amazing at it

ended up publishing her own fantasy book starting at hogwarts

sold out faster than expected

she is also a singer

amazing singer

movie marathons are her thing

prefers crime shows/movies

soft spot for gryffindors

parvati is very very very protective over her sister

does archery and is amazing at it

a very chill person until you mess with her loved ones

loves sixteen candles

adores puppies

watches big bang theory

soft spot for slytherins

cedric plays the piano.

the ravenclaw common room is where the only piano is at hogwarts so he goes there quite often.

everyone loves hearing him play.

other students gather around with their instruments and sing along as well.

wears glasses for reading

netflix type of guy

probably a theatre kid

has a soft spot for gryffindors

angelina also took piano lessons from cedric.

she just asked him one day where he learned it and he said his father taught him and he could tell that she wanted to learn.

so, he offered to teach her.

she was a natural at it and the lessons are always fun, even for the ravenclaws

angelina is also a tutor at hogwarts.

it all started with george and fred and she realized that she actually quite enjoyed it.

all her students love her

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

alicia is always the group leader in every group work she’s ever done.

she’s also usually the main organizer for any event at hogwarts.

she’s usually there with the help of angelina and katie.

they all work very well together

has a soft spot for slytherins

katie has a passion for cooking.

she’s friends with a lot of hufflepuffs and she meets a lot of them by the kitchens.

in there, they watch her cook amazing dishes and baked goods.

she was able to teach a few others how to as well.

the house elves love her.

has a soft spot for hufflepuffs

cho has an interest in fashion designing.

mcgonagall found her making a dress once in an empty hallway with some cool music playing.

minnie was amazed.

she was also able to start a fashion club at hogwarts.

luna, katie, dean and a few other were apart of this club as well.

likes pudding as much as luna does

has a soft spot for gryffindors

draco plays the violin.

pretty unexpected to his friends because he never really told anyone til goyle walked in on him playing in his dorm room.

he is actually very good at it.

combs his hair too often

the type to take too long at the water fountain

finishes his water bottle after like less than two hours of getting it

acts ‘ominous’ to the point where it’s funny

soft spot? for ravenclaws

adrian teaches young students how to play quidditch

his favorite color’s green for nature

actually loves reading and writing poetry

“most respectful”

has a soft spot for gryffindors

blaise seems very intimidating but is actually very sweet

shouts at quidditch games (much to everyones surprise)

loves the rain

likes dark academia movies

it’s basically his whole aesthetic

holds a record for most botts beans that fit in the mouth (without puking)

has a soft spot for hufflepuffs

pansy has a whole drawer of jewelry as she should honestly

actually soft for cats but it’s not like she’ll ever tell anyone

loves playing with other’s hair

massages her friend’s backs

they do the same for her

a goddess at card games

is actually a gymnast

has a soft spot for ravenclaws

bonuses: george and fred’s favorite movie to watch together is bill and ted’s excellent adventure

all the gryffindors have a movie night at least once a week and others from different houses join along as well

hermione, ginny, luna, parvati, padma, angelina, alicia, katie, and cho have girl nights

the same with the guys though it was quite awkward at first due to draco being there but they eventually warmed up to each other (after like 4 months)

no one really knows how draco and the slytherins even got there but yk

they never tell anyone that they’re comfortable with each other now though

tags: @quadrupledeckertaco @audreysmusings @georgeweasley19 @krasivayadarling @crookedhag

and others who i think would enjoy this: @lunalovecroft @whizboyhalo @darthwheezely @sirlorelai @puntuations @cherryweasleys @amourtentiaa @whatthefuckimbisexual @gredmforge (you don’t have to read if you don’t like!)

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sleepysnk · 4 years

Note

Hey love! I was wondering if I could request first date with Eren? And maybe how nervous they both are but it gets really cute and fluffy? Modern or canon is fine!

hi aimee!! 🥰❤ i definitely had fun with this scenario! i made it into modern au, because i would probably butcher canon Eren 🙄 anyway i hope you enjoy sexy lady and thank you again for requesting! ♡

First Date Jitters

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

A shaky sigh came from Eren's mouth as he looked in the mirror. He just got out of the shower, his date was currently in an hour with (Y/N) and he couldn't be more nervous.

It was his first date with her.

Eren knew (Y/N) for a pretty long time, the two attended the same high school and they both were in the same Physics class. He always thought she was a pretty girl, he just never really had much guts to ask her out.

They both got close fairly quick, they talked every night, facetimed, met up to talk before going to lectures, the two seemed genuinely really interested in one another.

When he asked her to go see a movie with him, he was a blushing mess and he could barely even make eye contact with her. Of course, she said yes and here he was now, getting ready to pick her up.

"You're really this nervous?" his roommate, Armin, asked.

Eren looked at Armin before leaning against the counter. "W-Well.. a little bit," he replied.

The blonde approached him, "You got this Eren, just be yourself! You've known (Y/N) for a long time anyway." a smile formed on his lips.

Eren really wish he could say he's got it, but he felt butterflies in his stomach. Yeah he knew her for a long time, but he's never hung out alone with her and seeing the way the two acted around one another... he had every right to be nervous. Eren liked (Y/N).

Eren looked at his phone, the screen displayed that he had less than an hour before he had to go get her.

"What if I mess this up?" Eren asked, looking Armin with concern.

Armin patted his shoulder, "You aren't as long you treat her with respect and make sure you don't do anything that makes her uncomfortable," he said.

He sighed, his nerves felt high still and he couldn't help it. He didn't want his anxiousness to ruin the date and it would be horrible if she was turned off by it! He just wanted to make a good impression, that's all.

On the other hand, (Y/N) was feeling the same way about this date. She was a nervous wreck and her stomach was knotted up from everything.

"I don't even know what to wear!" she exclaimed.

Her roommate, Sasha, was trying her best to calm her down.

"(Y/N)! Relax! It's just Eren.. he definitely has seen you in bummy outfits. Just wear some jeans and a nice shirt," she said, standing up and walking towards her closet.

(Y/N) plopped down on her bed, she felt her heart thumping in her chest. "Ugh.. I just.. I don't wanna ruin this! Eren is really cute and I don't wanna come off as a weirdo," she said.

Sasha rubbed her back, "You aren't gonna ruin it (Y/N), Eren is a really nice guy, if I thought you were gonna mess this up I would have told you to not even bother going."

Her phone suddenly vibrated which made her scramble to grab it.

Sasha looked up, "What did he say?" she asked.

(Y/N) looked at the text from Eren.

Eren: hey! i'm almost ready, should i come get you soon?

"He's asking if he should come get me," she replied, looking at Sasha.

"Girl go find a damn outfit! Stop freaking out woman!" Sasha said.

(Y/N) went towards her closet and grabbed an outfit. Some ripped dark jeans and a white spaghetti tank top, she added a bracelet and fixed up her hair.

"How does it look?" she asked, looking at Sasha.

Sasha gave a thumbs up. "You look sexy! He won't be able to resist you in that," she smirked.

As if on cue, her phone suddenly vibrated again.

Eren: i'm on my way!

"He's on his way.." she said, grabbing some perfume and spraying it onto her skin.

"You got this! I believe in you (Y/N)!" Sasha said, smiling at her.

She really wished she could believe that.

Eren chewed his bottom lip as he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment building, his heart thumped in his chest and his stomach did flips as he got closer to the address.

Armin told him not to worry, but he couldn't help worrying. He liked her and this was the only time he could show it.

He pulled up in front of the building and sent her a text letting him know he was there. His leg shook as he patiently waited.

Calm down Eren, she's not gonna be weirded out. Eren thought to himself.

(Y/N) suddenly appeared, she exited her building and got into Eren's car.

"Hey!" she said, smiling at him.

Eren gave her smile, "Hey! You look nice.." he said, looking at her outfit.

Her cheeks grew warm, "T-Thank you.. you look nice yourself," she replied.

A dust of pink hinted onto Eren's cheeks. His nerves still feeling high and he was trying his best to not make it noticeable.

He started driving to the movie theatre, there was some awkward silence in the car.

"S-So.. um, how are you doing?" he asked.

She fidgeted with her fingers. "Um.. I'm okay? I guess? I've just been stressing with exams and all that," she replied.

Her gaze made its way to Eren, he looked really good right now. He was wear a black crewneck with black jeans, his cologne filled her nose. It was a pine and vanilla scent.

"I'm doing okay too.. that physics final really beat my ass but other than that I'm alright," he said, his eyes looking at her in the passenger seat.

She laughed a bit, "It was hard for sure," she said, looking out the window. "Do you have a movie picked out?"

Eren turned into the theatre. "Actually no, I was hoping to pick one with you." he replied.

She nodded her head, "Sounds good!" she smiled.

Eren parked his car and the two got out, (Y/N) silently prayed Eren didn't see her shaky legs as she walked with him into the theatre. She picked at the skin of her nails, her heart racing as he came next to her.

"We should see a horror movie, if you want." he said.

Her gaze averted towards him, "That sounds like fun! I love horror movies," she replied.

Eren felt his heart hammering in his chest, she smelled great and her overall persona was making him nervous. A million thoughts were rushing into his head, what if he did something embarrassing? What if she was uncomfortable?

"Hello! How may I help you?" the clerk asked, nodding her head at the two.

"U-Uh.. two tickets for The Conjuring 2," Eren replied, taking out his wallet.

(Y/N) was about to take out her own when Eren stopped her. "I got it."

Her cheeks were warm from the gesture, no guy had ever paid for a date before. Well, any guy she's been on a date with.

Eren grabbed the tickets and lead (Y/N) inside the theatre, the smell of popcorn and sweets filled into her nose making her stomach growl slightly.

"You want anything?" Eren asked, looking down at her.

She looked at the different snacks, "U-Um.. not really," she replied, looking away from his gaze.

He grabbed some sour gummy worms and some Hershey's kisses. His two favorite candies, sweet and sour.

He put it onto the counter, the guy behind it scanned it and Eren handed him the bill. "Come on," he said, nodding his head to the side.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly as she followed Eren to the theatre, she felt her body growing warm and her heart beginning to race again. What if Eren is weirded out by the way she's acting? What if he saw her shaky legs? Ugh.. this was all too much.

He held the door open for her as she entered the room, "Thanks.." she whispered.

Eren followed after her, she made her way up the steps towards the back, many people were already seated and watching the different movie trailers that played on the screen.

"Have you seen this one before?" Eren asked in a whisper.

She nodded, "No.. scary movies do freak me out though," she replied.

Eren smiled at the thought of her being scared, "Don't worry.. I'll protect you," he said, chuckling a bit.

Her cheeks grew hot again, "Please do.." she replied.

He was surprised at that answer, a blush formed onto his cheeks hearing her words.

Within a few minutes the movie started, it was the usual talk about demons and ghosts, as well as an introduction to who the Warren's were. Eren had seen this movie a million times, but it was always a classic favorite of his.

(Y/N) was moving her feet around and shaking her leg, what if she embarrassed herself right now?

Suddenly a jumpscare flashed and many people jumped including (Y/N), a small squeak escaped her mouth as she gripped Eren's arm.

He turned red feeling her touch, it took her a minute but (Y/N) soon noticed her squeeze around his arm.

"Sorry!" she whispered, trying her best to ignore the growing heat on her cheeks.

Eren swallowed thickly, "N-No.. don't apologize! Um.. here," he said.

She looked over to see him moving the armrest between them, he pulled it up so the space between them was now opened. His arms wide for her.

"Y-You don't have to.. of course.." he mumbled, his cheeks bright pink.

She looked at the screen then back at him, "N-No! You're fine.. I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable.." she whispered.

"You won't.." he replied.

That's when she leaned into his chest, she could feel her hands trembling as she placed them onto his stomach. Eren's heart thumping against his chest could be heard from her ear. His arm found its way around the flesh of her waist, tightening around her so she'd feel a sense of security.

Another jumpscare flashed and she jumped again, Eren smiled at that. He found it.. cute?

"Sorry.." she whispered.

His hand found its way to her hair, "Don't worry about it.."

She looked up at him then back at the screen, the different screams and yelling coming from the people in the movie filled her ears.

Eventually, the movie came to an end. (Y/N) was so comfortable on his chest she almost wanted to lay there the whole time, but considering how late it was, that wasn't exactly an option.

She rose from her seat, cracking her joints and stretching. She turned to meet Eren's gaze on her, he was standing and stretching himself.

"What'd you think?" he asked with a smile.

She giggled, "Not bad.. but it was scary."

He hummed in response, "Let's head out," he said.

She nodded before following him down the steps and exiting the showing room. Her eyes adjusted to the light, making her squint a little. Eren tossed his snacks into the garbage since he finished them during the movie.

He held the door open as he exited the theatre, (Y/N) shivered as she walked out. The cold air enveloping her skin.

"I should have brought a jacket.." she said, laughing a bit.

Eren raised his brows, "Here," he said.

She furrowed her brows watching Eren take off his crewneck, he had a white shirt underneath it. She could faintly see the skin of his stomach as he lifted it off him.

"Eren you don't have to-"

"No, let me. It'd be rude of me to let you shiver here.. so take it, I don't mind." Eren replied, holding the fabric out for her.

She smiled, taking it and throwing it over herself. It was warm and his scent was all over it, she felt comfort in it.

"Thank you.." she said, her cheeks growing hot again.

Eren rubbed the back of his neck, a smile forming on his lips. "No problem!"

The two went to his car and climbed in to drive back to her apartment, Eren and (Y/N) were more comfortable with each other now. They joked around, talked about the movie, and talked about other movies they'd like to see with each other.

Eren put the car in park as he pulled up to the front of her apartment building.

She removed her seatbelt and looked at him. "Thank you for tonight.. it was really fun," she smiled.

He smiled himself, "Yeah no problem! I had a lot of fun too.. don't worry about my shirt either, you can keep it." he replied.

"Sounds good! Um.. I guess I'll see you in class?" she asked, nodding her head.

Eren shook his head, "No yeah! I'll see you then," he replied.

She began to make her way out of his car.

"Wait!"

Her head turned back towards him. "Hm? What's up?" she asked, blinking a few times.

"Uh.. u-um, I just.. I had a lot of fun tonight, you know? I was- u-um.. wondering if you.. wanted to hangout again?" he said, his cheeks visibly pink.

She giggled, "Of course! I would love to hangout with you.. maybe a second date?" she said.

His heart swelled, "Y-Yeah! That sounds great!" he replied.

She smiled before leaning in to press her lips on his cheek, "See you later."

Eren's eyes went wide, but nonetheless he felt flustered and excited. "Have a good night," he said, smiling.

She exited his car and waved, she disappeared into her apartment building.

Eren smiled at he pulled off towards the road, who knew this date would go so well? He was definitely eager to see (Y/N) again.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

innocence - 04

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual harassment (please don’t read this chapter if it triggers/makes you uncomfortable, your safety comes first)

A/N: i do realise i’m on a roll posting every day but uni starts early and idk why i keep writing like i’m running out of time😂 hope you enjoy this chapter. much love xx

* additionally, there is a light sexual harassment scene in this chapter and if anyone is uncomfortable or triggered by it i would skip it. your mental health and safety come first. *

NEXT CHAPTER

One day I’ll fly away...

She remembered the very first role she got to play as a lead. She was the standby for Glinda in Wicked. She could still feel her hand shaking as the backstage technicians secured her to the bubble. She could still hear the bubble machine engine rumble as the bubble raised up in the ceiling and for a moment she was above everything - above the audience, above the cast, above the stage itself. It felt like flying, soaring through the gasping of the crowd. She remembered feeling like this was her height, this was her flight but as things went, as she got more roles and as she progressed to the screen as she always wanted, the feeling of flying just seemed to soar, turning her into a creature of air.

Flying for Bucky was something he couldn’t remember, he remembered crashing. Remembered falling from the train waiting for the peaceful slumber of death to come but it never did, remembered the cold snow melting through his jacket reaching his skin. It’s cold. Remembered diving in after Steve, lungs filled with water, heavy suit. It’s cold, it’s quiet. Soaring was only something he could dream of while frozen or when they put him on a cell with a small window. Crashing was more like something he could remember, drowning, pushed to the bottom by his arm, wishing death came to greet him

More powerful than crashing was sound. The theatre was always filled with whistling from men getting a peak at ladies’ legs, women giggling and security trying to keep out children and teens away. You could hear the laughter reverberating from any material, it was electrifying. Her voice however seemed to melt over distorted past sounds, a melancholy while held hands with the old telling it never of its former glory but of what it can be. Bucky knew now why her agency kept her so locked up, all people with a voice eventually fly away.

- Don’t just stare at me. - she bite her lip, looking the other way. Did she sound that bad? She thought she sounded just fine in the shower that morning, maybe her bathroom had better acoustics. - Should we go back home? Before it gets dark?

- Sure. - he got up from his seat, extending his hand towards her so she could jump off the set. She put her hand in his, another hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as her elevated her up into the air before bringing her down onto the worn out floor.

The walk back to the subway was quiet. People were starting to crowd Coney Island for night time dates. Bucky remembered bringing girls to dates in Coney Island, even remembered bringing Steve along, he just didn’t remember the girls’ names anymore. There were some flashes of what they were wearing but surely those memories were replaced with that of Y/N staring at the ferris wheel as they walked back to the subway.

Once there, her child like wonder of the city that never slept and the city which she now lived in didn’t seem to leave her eyes, sparkling brighter than the billboards in Times Square. The walk back to the apartment was once again quiet, with their footsteps being the only thing echoing in the halls. Soon enough they reached her door, still looking as intact as they left it.

- Thank you so much for showing me Coney Island. - she handed him the teddy he had won. - Thank you gift.

- I won it for you, Y/N. Besides, I think I’m a bit past stuffed animals.

- Well, I’ve had my fair share of stuffed animals to last a life time and I insist you keep this one. - she stuffed the teddy between his arms, finding it incredibly adorable how the little toy looked smaller in the middle of his arms than in hers. - Little Coney Island memento.

- I should get going. - he changed the subject, gesturing with his hands as he looked at the time on his watch. - It’s been a great day, Y/N.

- The pleasure’s been all mine, Bucky. - she smiled as she held the edge of the door. She stood by the slightly opened door watching as he turned the corner which led to the lift. Once he was out of sight, Y/N walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her but still holding the knob with a silly smile on her face.

Bucky reached the headquarters around 11 PM. Despite going the long way home, expecting Steve to be asleep when he returned. Steve had a very mundane routine when it came to sleeping, he could still sleep but he would wait until everyone was asleep for him to go to his bedroom. Bucky didn’t want to have to dance the first day in the job waltz. He knew he cared, he knew Steve wanted him to be alright. There was only one small thing; Steve wanted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his Bucky, and he just wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t like being asked who he was, he doesn’t know who he is.

Opening the door to the living room, he found Captain America himself sat on the big lounge chair, skimming through his list of modern day TV shows and movies. His blue eyes moved from the bright lights of the television to him.

- How was the first day? - he questioned, regular optimism present in his voice. Steve had remained the same, maybe it was that which made him believe the spectre of the boy Bucky was could be revived. He seemed to forget dead people can’t be revived.

- It was good, went to Coney Island.

- Coney Island? - Steve muted the TV, contorted face expression settling into his youthful features. - I thought you were going to guard her door.

- She wanted to see Coney Island. Couldn’t let her go alone?

- Didn’t her personal assistant tell you she couldn’t leave? - he had been noisey, he had looked into Bucky’s contract. He told himself it was just in case, just in case Bucky needed his help. - You don’t want to get in any trouble, specially with agencies. They’re the devil.

- I’ll take it into consideration. - his skin tightened as he smiled a tight straight line.

- Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m watching a series Sam recommended.

- I think I’m gonna just go to sleep.

Steve nodded allowing Bucky to return to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, a bed, side table and wardrobe, nothing else. No mirrors and no windows, silence, grey and black bedding, no decoration rather than a postcard his sister had sent him during the war framed in a plastic frame. No glass, Steve wanted nothing around he could harm himself with. It was almost like living in an insane asylum.

He looked at the little teddy bear in his hands before placing it on the side table, a little smile on his face. A Coney Island memento indeed.

The morning came rushing like the rain which fell against Y/N’s bedroom glass window. She turned around in her bedding, pushing her knitted quilt up to her nose, the scent of fresh crisp cotton invading her senses. The mood would’ve remained the same comfortable, early morning type had it not been for her comforter being yanked off her without any warning. Through the fogginess of morning sight, she could make out Ms. Olson in her traditional black suit co-ord. She thought it fitting, considering her morning was now ruined.

- Get up. We have much to do. - she barked like an infuriating dog.

- But I thought I had the weekend off.- Y/N rubbed the sleep of her eyes, sitting up, quilt covering her body.

- You have last mine commitment. Now run along and change into something more ... - he analysed her before gazing her face, tight expression settling in. - Enchanting.

She left Y/N in the bedroom, clenching her bedding as she looked around the place she’d rather be. Nevertheless, she rose from her bed and walked up to her wardrobe grabbing the first dress she could find and a pair of heels. Her routine during work was different, she normally showered, got her makeup done, dressed and then out of the door. Mechanic, controlled, with Ms. Olson asking her to hurry up. In a split second she returned to the living room, bag held on her shoulder, sunglasses in hand as she prepared to walk out with Miss Olson.

- You should’ve put some product on your hair. The ends look dry. - Miss Olson commented as they walked outside. She looked around hoping Bucky would be around but it was just her and Miss Olson.

- Is Mr. Barnes not coming?

- It’s a dress rehearsal. - Y/N froze in her mind. Dress rehearsals were supposed to be better than fittings but after her last experience she really wasn’t in the mood for another experience with the director.

Time seemed to stop, freeze in spot as she stepped inside the car. No noise, no sound, even colour seemed to fade as the car drove faster and faster. She wondered what she could do, open the door, roll over, maybe do it like what she had seen in Lady Bird but the driver always kept the door fully locked and Miss Olson always had her eye on her like Sauron’s Eye.

She looked at her phone in her lap, fingers loomed over Bucky’s name. He was employed by her, maybe she could ask him to come over. Maybe if he was there it would be easier. She sent the message hopeful he would reply, but the text bounced back. Looking at the network, she was lacking all the bars on her phone. Sighing, she leaned against the car seat, looking off the window, dark clouds on the blue sky mocking her.

As the car came to a halt on the same building as before, she almost had to be pulled out the car by Miss Olson. Once inside, Y/N could see him, she could smell his patchouli fragrance as he wrapped his arm around her. She stood once again in front of the camera lights, muffled cries in her head as she was squeezed into a corset and a then a body con dress. Her eyes were blinded by the lights, behind those lights Miss Olson and Mister Powell gazing at her. Her hand slide down her collarbones to her lap, feeling the fabric as the cameras kept flashing, locking her in a case of lights.

Once the lights dimmed, she could see them looking down at her, almost five feet tall, mumbling she couldn’t hear as one of the costume designers helped her out.

- Costumes are looking fantastic. - the director walked up to her, hand wrapping itself around her waist, raising up to lay just below her breast. - Maybe you should try and cut some weight. You would look a bit better.

- We’ve already started a diet plan. - Miss Olson added. - Not to worry, Mr. Powell. Y/N is fully invested in this movie.

She remained caged in the conversation, being moved by someone back onto the car and dropped at home. She looked around her hallway, wondering if it had always been this cold. As she opened the door to her home, she noticed the jar of flowers the director had sent her on her kitchen balcony. White carnations in a crystal clear jar. She stormed to the kitchen, ripping the tag of the carnations. To my perfect leading lady. The handwriting wasn’t his, probably his assistant.

When had it all gone so wrong? Why did it felt wrong? Why did the flight felt like a burning crash? When did it all get so screwed up?

She wrapped her hands around the glass jar, hands trembling, the sound of her ring hitting against the glass being the only thing she heard before a shattering sound filled her mind. It was fast, too fast but she threw the jar against the wall, watching as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, falling into the ground like small diamonds. She thought it would make her feel better but instead she feel to the ground, trying to gather the pieces together as guilt embraced her.

- Y/N?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34

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artxyra · 4 years

Note

What if Damian and the miraculous class are friends and they have movie nights, but since Damian is in Gotham he sneaks out of the manor and portal via Max & Kalki to participate. The Fam get suspicious and try to figure out where Damian is going every week. When they find out he goes to Paris they try to follow him but the portal closes and they use the tubes instead. They end up crashing in on them watching a horror movie which freaks the class out. Insert yelling and things being thrown.

To: Demon From: Angel

Are we still on for movie night?

To: Angel From: Demon

Yes. Just need to get away from the family.

To: Demon From: Angel

😀

Marinette looks over smiling from her phone. Today is a good day. There were no akuma that needed Ladybug’s attention, nor had she broken up a fight between Max and Kim about the latest game. So yes, she was ecstatic to know this is how her day is going.

“Hey Mars, is Damian coming tonight?” Adrien asks seating next to her playing with a strand of his hair. Ever since he came out to her, their relationship has blossomed beyond a crush to a blooming brother-sister relationship. That and Luka were more than willing to take on the blonde without a second thought. She kind of feels bad for Juleka having to see Adrien on a near-daily basis and with her brother no doubt.

“Yup,” Marinette continues to smile, “I just received word that he’s good to go. All we need is for Kaalki and Max to open up a portal at the designated time.”

“Sweet, I hear that Kim was the one picking out this week’s movie. I hope it’s nothing horror-related.” Adrien pouts causing Marinette to laugh that the poor kitty’s face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too crazy.” Marinette hopes that it was something simple to follow and an action pack rather than horror. She may love horror games but kwami be damn if she watches a horror movie in the dark that wasn’t comedic.

“It looks like break is almost over, we’ll continue you this later.” Adrien sends Marinette a comforting smile before jumping down into his assigned seat next to Nino. Alya and Nino just walked in holding hands.

“Hey, lovebirds, who’s ready for a night full of fun?” Alya greets the two causing them to roll their eyes at the nickname that no longer pertains to them.

“Hey Als, I should be asking you that instead.” Marinette lifts an eyebrow that accompanies her smirk. Nino and Alya’s faces turn red and they side glance each other. Marinette and Adrien laugh at the couple.

“After class, I’ll be giving a quick speech regarding tonight’s plans,” Marinette states pulling out her classwork and books for class. They all nod in understanding. Just then the rest of the class filed in with matching smiles and asking pertaining to tonight’s activities.

To: Angel From: Demon

Save me from the idiots that I call my brothers?

To: Demon From: Angel

Can’t love, I’m sure it not that bad.

To: Angel From: Demon

For some idiotic reason, they are watching me like a hawk today. I’m currently in the bathroom with the doors locked listening to them bicker outside.

To: Demon From: Angel

Yikes 😬. I’m sure it will die down before you’re required to leave.

To: Angel From: Demon

I doubt that.

To: Demon From: Angel

About that, why did we move our weekly movie night from Saturday to Friday?

To: Angel From: Demon

It’s a half-day at school.

Shit. Talk to you later.

Marinette places her phone down and slowly turns her attention to Mme. Bustier. The red-haired teacher tried to keep her students engaged with the content, but she was losing them faster than on average. Marinette turns to her classmates. Alix and Kim were trying to out strength each other, Juleka and Rose was trying to pay attention but the drooping in Rose’s eyes say otherwise, Sabrina and Chloe—well doing what they usually do—living in their own bubble, Nathaniel was sketching something down in his notebook while Max was pretending to take notes as Markov does it for him. Finally, Mylene and Ivan were also in their own world.

Hours seemed to past in Marinette’s mind before Mme. Bustier concluded today’s lesson. She was so caught up in watching the time that she didn’t realize that was sketching an outfit in her own notebook. Whoops.

“Marinette is there something you would like to add?” Mme. Bustier prompts sending the class’s designated designer a smile.

“Yes,” Marinette gets up from her seat and walks down to the podium. “Tonight is our weekly movie night instead of tomorrow. Do you remember what to bring? If not, please message me before the event. Remember that we are having this event at Chloe’s family’s hotel as it a makeshift theatre room.”

“Daddy says we can have the popcorn maker also.” Chloe interrupts. The class cheers at the thought of the infamous popcorn maker that was usually locked behind the hotel kitchen doors.

“Thank you, Bee, for that tidbit. Now, Max, you are to arrive at the bakery no later than six o’clock. The demon is having a half-day today and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he’ll want to be here no later than that. Everyone else, you are free to do.” With that and a pretend gavel, Marinette dismisses the class to their next class for the day.

For Damian, being at school felt like a blessing even if it was a half-day. His brothers have been hounding him all morning. It’s like they are looking for something that isn’t there. Damian’s emotions? Yeah right, they all know he only shows emotions to his beloved animals or animals in general. Damian had to double, triple check the security on his phones because who knows what Drake would find if he had access inside it.

For over six months, he had been going to Paris for movie nights with his beloved and her classmates. At first, he had done it through the zeta tubes but after gaining their trust just enough to be in on the Miraculous Team of Paris, his trips became a lot more frequent. He would make up an excuse about going to a classmate, or Jon’s, house for the night, or to work on a school project. He had gotten away with it for a while, but Tim was the first to notice the lie.

Tim and Conner were having their usually meet up when the Damian had told his family that he was spending time at Jon’s, something that was no unusual. All was fine and dandy until Jon came home with a Damian Wayne. Tim, well it was mainly Dick, had grilled into the young hero about Damian’s whereabouts. Jon either lied or literally had no idea. Which prompted the Batbros to start the search on Damian's weekly disappearance.

Everyone took the day off to “spend time” with Damian. They wanted to trap the teen inside the manor and watch his every movement. Like that isn’t an invasion of privacy or trust.

Alfred brought Damian to the manor around noon. This gives them enough time to hide any open-source of weaponry they could find or items that Damian could use against them in battle. That was a lot of items on the list. Dick inquired for Bruce to hold off on the tracking device as a last resort. He wanted to start everything out with a discussion, but Jason laughs that idea out the window as he cleans his guns.

“The young master is residing in his bedroom,” Alfred speaks walking down into the Batcave.

The Wayne family knew this was it.

To: Angel From: Demon

I’m ready.

To: Demon From: Angel

ETA in 5

Damian smirks at his phone. He loves his girlfriend and how quickly she can manage an entire group of classmates and plan a weekly movie night event.

He had packed his belonging that he usually brings with him when he does to Paris. Which isn’t much.

Four minutes.

Damian thought his ears were playing tricks on him, but they weren’t. He could hear the stampede of footsteps that were no doubt from his family members aside from Alfred. Alfred’s footsteps are like a ghost, you never hear them.

Three minutes.

“Hey little D, since you had a half-day today, why don’t you spend it with us,” Grayson asks the second his bedroom door swings open. Alfred the cat sends a glare to his owner’s family.

“Yeah, Demon spawn, we all took the day off to spend time with you,” Jason adds gas to the fire that was already burning intensely.

“Damian…” Not his father too.

Two minutes.

Damian doesn’t say a word. His eyes bounce from one person to the next and repeat. He didn’t know who to answer them. “Tt.” Was the only word? Sound? That had escaped his lips.

“You need to leave like now.” Damian refuses to have his family find out the very secret he had kept hidden for so long. His quick need for them leaving only pushes them to stay. Worried about various reasons from teen problems to joining the League of Assassins again. They didn’t want to take any chances.

One minute.

Damian could sense the user of the horse kwami becoming active. Soon a blue swirling portal opens up behind Damian. Damian looks at his family and side glances at the portal. The portal wins. The family of vigilantes runs to the portal only for it to close.

“Am I hallucinating or did that just happen?” Tim asks wiping the sleep away from his eyes.

“No, replacement, that really just happened.” Jason states. Tim nods in understanding.

“I’ll do track him down.” Dick sulks at the thought that Bruce was right.

It didn’t take long for the results to come in.

“Uh…so how the hell is the Demon in Paris, France of all places?” Jason shouts from behind his older brother and Bruce.

“The swirling portal thingy?” Tim states the obvious, but it sounded more like a question as he sits down and drinks a cup of coffee.

“Boys we’re going to Paris.” Bruce states over his sons. From afar, Alfred sighs and goes to prepare the zeta tubes with the destination in mind.

“Uh, civvies or uniform?” Dick asks as they all start to make their way to the zeta tube. This was one of those questions that they linger on for a hot minute.

Before they knew it, Damian had gained an hour over his family.

“It doesn’t matter, we need to know where the little demon has been hiding all this time.” Jason screeches talking over to the zeta tube and teleporting to the location.

Bruce turns to the remainder of his sons who shrugged and follow suit.

Entering Paris, they were further from Damian’s location than anticipated. They follow the tracker with some interruptions. Dick wanted to buy something for Kori, Jason wanted food and Tim needed for coffee. After all that was done, they officially made it to the supposed location of Damian’s whereabouts.

“Why would the little demon at a hotel?”

“Hum, this coffee is really good,” Tim says before taking another sip.

“Boys, focus on the mission.”

“I am focus, Bruce.”

“I didn’t say you were, Dick.”

“Touché.” Dick rubs the back of his arm.

They enter Le Grand Paris with tensions high and were surprised by how calm and relax the employees were. Jason swears this was just a hoax and they were torturing Damian behind one of these doors. An employee asks them if they are in need of anything. Bruce states that they were looking for his son.

“Is he friends with Chloe and her classmates?” The employee asks.

“Who?” Dick and Bruce ask simultaneously. Jason had dragged Tim off somewhere to look at some things.

The employee eyes the family skeptically.

“Well if he’s not friends with Mlle. Bourgeois, then I suggest heading to the police department and report a missing child.” The employee states before walking away. Bruce sighs and pulls out the tracking device. Damian is so close to them.

“We’re going to find him, right?”

“And drag the brat back to Gotham?”

Bruce in the direction that would be location, he gestures for his children to follow.

Damian was having a blast. In his arms, Marinette sat on his arm clinging to his shirt cursing Kim’s name throughout the film. Kim had chosen a horror movie for tonight’s showing and by kwami it was fantastic. There was no comedic relief, actual horror storytelling leaving the class on the edge of their seats.

Adrien was curled next to Marinette in Luka’s arms. He was also clinging to a body, a certain musician as if he was a frightened kitten.

Just as the MC was about to open the door to the attic, a series of figures jump from the ceiling. Screams in real-life match those within the movie. Popcorn, empty cartons of candy, soda drinks are thrown at the figures. A string of curses follows not long after that.

“Damian, tell your friends to stop.” He knows that voice from anywhere, it was Grayson’s voice. Marinette slides herself off himself.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He screeches in English. Most of the class didn’t have a clue what was being said.

“We wanted to see where you were?”

“We thought you were kidnapped?”

“I just came for the scenery.”

Damian’s eyes twitch.

“That’s nice and all, but can you move? We’re trying to watch a movie here and you’re ruining it.” Chloe stands up demanding the bat-family to move. They all look to one another before subtly moving away from the screen.

Damian places a quick kiss on Marinette’s cheek and guides his family out of the room. He was not happy that they came in ruining his night with Marinette. Now he has to make up for it with something romantic, not that he’ll do it anyway.

“What made you believe that I was kidnapped?” He asks, the second they were out of the room.

“The portal thingy.”

“You not answering any of our questions.”

Damian breathes through his nose. “You’re all idiots.”

“Well movie night is a bust, but we all agree to stay here to continue rather than going home.” Marinette walks into the hall after a moment of them talking—well it was more of a screaming match between Bruce and Damian with some input from Dick. “Will your family be fine without you for a couple more hours?”

“Habibti, these dunces are my family,” Damian states gesturing to his family,

Marinette nods, “Well then, hello, and can we keep Damian for the night?”

Damian walks over to Marinette and wraps his arms around her. “I’ll return from before it’s nightfall in Gotham, father.”

“Uh, sure. Boys lets go.” Bruce accepts the came and walks down the hall. Before either of the brothers could pester Damian about this newfound relationship, Bruce gave them all the bat-glare and demanded that they follow.

“You know you’re going to get pestered, right.” Marinette laughs.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Come on, we have a movie to finish.”

With that, Damian takes Marinette’s hand and walks back into the room.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #daminette

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Solaris

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

This is vaguely inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins part 9 of Here To Misbehave - go check it out it’s amazing!

Warnings- NSFW, public sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, swearing

A/N- There are real quotes from the movie in here but may not be in cinematic order, I got them from a quote website. Also the real Solaris movie is not 5 hours and is 166 minutes (it just feels ridiculously long).

Masterlist

Italics are Spencer’s translations.

Spencer and I rarely had a chance to have date nights, because of our jobs we usually grabbed every spare little moment. Usually that resulted in spur of the moment 15 minute dates when we finally had some alone time away from the team. Luckily for our stressed out minds Hotch had finally put his foot down on letting the team have some vacation time. I still am not sure how he got Strauss to agree to a two week vacation.

The two of us now had two weeks to do whatever we wanted, so we agreed to a plan, Spencer would plan the first week and I would do the next. He had been tight lipped about all of his plans until we made our way to the car and he finally broke. He confessed that we were going to see an old film he loved- a Russian film to be exact from 1972 called Solaris.

Spencer always planned out the quirkiest dates, while most people would be put off by movies that I couldn’t even understand or bookstores that were filled with academic books, it made him even more special in my eyes. During the entire ride to the cinema he gave me various facts about this obnoxiously long movie we were about to see (5 hours to be exact), letting me in on all the knowledge he kept up in his gorgeous brain.

“Did you know that the film was written Andrei Tarkovsky and Fridrikh Gorenshtein to attempt to give sci-fi films more emotional depth? They viewed western works in the genre as shallow due to their focus on technological inventions.” He rambled out at impressive speed as we pulled up to the small rundown cinema. Spencer often planned out dates here because they willingly showed foreign and obscure indie films, which he found more appealing over mainstream blockbusters. Plus the yellow tinged cinema lights and old time ticket booths gave off a vintage vibe that we both reveled in.

We made our way up to the ticket booth, my heels making Spencer slow his lanky strides significantly. I could tell he really wanted to sprint to get inside as quick as possible, he hadn’t seen this film in forever and it was one of his favorites. We finally reached the gate where a obviously bored teenage worker took our money and seemingly rolled his eyes at the movie we said we were watching. To a teenager what kind of couple would consider an old Russian film as a romantic movie. We grabbed our tickets, egregiously priced soda and a large popcorn that was probably going to be confiscated by Spencer halfway through the movie.

The theatre was completely empty, not surprising considering how obscure the film was. Spencer picked out seats right in the middle which gave us the best view of the large screen. I sat down in the plush red velvet vintage seats plopping down my soda into the cup holder and letting myself get comfortable. Spencer sat to the left of me already claiming the popcorn for himself as we snuggled up to prepare for the 5 hour movie we were about to watch.

The film started right on time, there weren’t any commercials (for once) and Spencer leaned in close to me to begin translating the film once he realized there were no subtitles. He seemed almost giddy to translate every word that I was undoubtedly missing that I was sincerely glad that the theatre hadn’t turned on subtitles. I loved seeing Spencer happy over quirky things. Though instead of being focused on the translations my mind fixated on how seductive the situation was.

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, his lips were a ghost around the shell of my ear as he quietly translated the Russian film. He always carted around an innocent persona wherever he went, not letting it get sullied by his work or the countless amounts of books he read.

“You're human. Each in your own way. That's why you argue."

I could feel the wetness steadily pooling in my panties as he continued to speak, being blissfully ignorant of the naughty thoughts running rampant in my head. Only he could make a sci-fi movie from the 70s about fictional planets sound sexy.

“Who was it? She died 10 years ago."

“What you saw was the materialization of your conception of her.”

“Incidentally, consider yourself lucky. After all she's part of your past. What if it had been something you had never seen before, but something you had thought or imagined."

His endearing innocence was almost painful, I knew he was missing the cues of my flushed cheeks, wriggling thighs, and heavy breathing. It wasn’t like we weren’t intimate as a couple but even when he was dominate I was usually the one to initiate sex. He always told me that even though we had been together for a long time he got caught up in the fact that someone wanted to fuck him. That conversation usually turned into me showing him how much I fucking loved him and how he could be shy just not insecure in our relationship.

I decided that I would have to be the one tonight to coax him into doing something in public. I had confessed before that It was one of my kinks but this would be the first time I would attempt to do it with him.

I grabbed his hand that was situated on my upper thigh and slowly dragged it up the coarse fabric of my jean shorts. Once his nimble fingers caught on the button Spencer’s brain restarted and he pulled away slightly in protest. He was feebly trying to pretend that the idea of fingering his girlfriend in a theatre wasn’t the hottest thing in the world.

“W-we shh-ouldn’t be doing this y/n!!!!” He whisper shouted at me meekly. I gripped his hand harder keeping it in position as my other hand undid the button of my shorts.

“If you’re really uncomfortable I’ll stop, but I just find the idea of doing something so risqué exciting. Don’t you?” I shot right back at him with a coy smile and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. He still looked hesitant but started to move his hand under my shorts on his own. I gasped quietly as his fingers bypassed my shorts and snuck right under my panties. His full attention was on me now totally forgetting his previous job of translating the film for me. He finally breached my folds feeling just how wet he had gotten me just from translating an obscure Russian film.

“See how wet I am Spence? It’s all for you.” I purred, grinding my hips onto his hand to try and gain some delicious friction. He seemed to be in a trance his only goal to please me, his gorgeous fingers started to circle around my entrance teasing me ever so slightly.

“Spencer stop teasing if you aren’t prepared to be punished” My threat got through to him and he slowly entered his middle finger making me quietly moan out. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss to muffle my moans. The kiss was all tongue and teeth as he curled his finger to hit my g-spot which made me gasp into his mouth.

“More Spence-“

He thankfully listened to my plead and added another finger, my walls stretched around them giving me pain added with pleasure. To give me even more stimulation his thumb found my clit running in tight circles. I was approaching my orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly, Spencer knew my body better then I did at this point. Both of my hands pulled at his hair trying to force him as close as possible to my body. I screwed my eyes shut as I was shoved off the proverbial cliff. I could hear the faint sounds of Russian scientists from the film in the background which only added to the high, the idea of getting caught just made it so much better.

Spencer continued to stimulate my clit until I rode out my high, he then turned back to the film. He was trying to hide the fact that he was rock hard from watching me fall apart in a matter of minutes on his fingers. An evil idea snuck inside my brain, he had given me an orgasm but I wasn’t done with him yet. After I had recovered My hand moved over from my lap and gripped his thigh mimicking his earlier position. He hadn’t started translating the film again and was uncharacteristically silent. I waited for a few minutes before I enacted my plan the only thing I was doing was slowly inching my hand up his thigh.

“Start translating the film again pretty boy” I whispered while pawing at the button on his pants, I wanted to repay the favor of a mind blowing orgasm. He looked at me with slight hesitation when I dropped down to the floor but he was to far gone to stop me at this point.

“Y-yoou want to destroy that which we are presently incapable of underssstanding? Forgive me but am not advocate of knowledge at any price."

I smirked to myself as I freed him from the confines of his slacks and boxers, his translations had become a stuttering mess and I hadn’t even touched him yet. He was already painfully hard, the head was an angry red with precum dribbling down. I firmly gripped him relishing in the little gasp that already escaped his mouth.

“Spencer we are in public, your going to have to only translate if you want me to touch you at all” My voice took on a deadly sinister tone reserved for unsubs or Spencer when he was being particularly subby.

He nodded and I fully immersed myself into giving him the best blowjob of his life. I slowly dragged my tongue up his length savoring every time he choked on his words, his thighs were tensing and his hands were white knuckle gripped around the arm rests. My mouth then finally fully enveloped his length finally giving him the relief he was looking for. As I began to take him further into my mouth his quiet whispers jumped an octave, he didn’t let himself moan, he knew what kind of punishment he would get if he dared to break my rules. The head of his member hit the back of my throat and spit started to drool out of my mouth, I looked up at him menacingly, daring him moan out.

“Remember Tol-stoy? His suffffering over the impossibility of loving mankind as a whole? How much time has passed since then? Somehow I ca-nn’t figure it out. Help meeee-Fffuck! Y/N!”

He whimpered out, I smirked around his length in satisfaction- I had broken him. I evilly released his length with a pop, he whined pathetically in protest at the loss of stimulation.

“If you had just followed the rules baby boy maybe I would’ve let you cum” I teased while sliding back into the theatre chair and turned back pretending to enjoy the rest of the movie. He still hadn’t torn his beautiful caramel eyes away from me, it almost looked like he was going to cry.

“Please Y/n I’ve been so good until now! I made you cum earlier, please please!!” He was unashamedly begging now, I quirked my eyebrow in surprise, he usually didn’t beg this fast. I leaned over to whisper in his ear mirroring his position from earlier.

“I’ll let you off easy this time pretty boy- but- when we get home you better put in the work and please me. Understand?” His head bobbed up and down eagerly, he was relieved he would actually be able to cum tonight. I dropped back down to my previous position in front of him and took him back into my mouth, he immediately went back to translating the film not wanting to get edged for the second time that night. One of my hands gripped his hips while the other felt underneath his boxers and caressed his balls, I could tell he was close. He came soon after in hot spurts down my throat, I swallowed every drop while I looked up in awe at him savoring how I made him fall apart. Spencer’s breath was ragged as he came down from his salacious climax, I tucked him back into his slacks and once again sat back into the plush velvet seats.

“Holy fuck” he said uncharacteristically after he snapped out of his reverie.

“Shh, Spence I’m watching the film!” I said cheekily, he glared back at me with a glint in his eye. I could tell even though he initially protested he thoroughly loved our carnal adventure. Spencer resumed his translating and I was surprised that we were only around halfway through the movie.

Once the movie was over we passed through the cinema as quick as possible ready to continue the nights adventures at home as promised. We got into Spencer’s Volvo and he stopped to stare at me for a moment before we left the parking lot. My eyebrows furrowed as i looked at him curiously wondering why he suddenly paused.

“See, I love you. But love is a feeling we can experience but never explain. One can explain the concept. You love that which you can lose: Yourself, a woman, a homeland. Until today, love was simply unattainable to mankind, to the earth. Maybe we are here to experience people as a reason for love." I recognized the quote from the movie we had just seen, and even though we said declarations of love often this one felt a little more special.

“I love you too Spence” I said through my watering eyes. He gave me a loving smile and started the car so we could go home to continue the night.

—————

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #imagine #solaris #criminal minds x reader #spencer #spencer reid blurb #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut

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allthecolorsofourlove · 2 years

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the Major Arcana is the story of a man [The Fool] and his passage through life [The Hero’s Journey]. i am no man [low Testosterone, supplemented Estrogen] and the passage i take is no new story [19, Bullied, That Thing With Their Mom]. i watched Lady Bird tonight [for the First Time] and felt bowled over. i’m still learning the passage through life [i am Not A Hero; i am somehow still The Fool]. she goes to New York but it was close enough to Seattle to make me cry.

The Fool first encounters The Magician. he denotes Duality [of the Self, of Power] and the alchemy used to turn Thought into Action. The Fool is accompanied by a Dog. The Fool is Impulsive. The Magician is too.

[i encounter the Dual Self. i look in a mirror and find it hard to know what awaits me. i pull the Eight of Swords and sigh.]

[you once told me that you believed the Two of Cups was a more romantic card than The Lovers. i just like to hear your voice, no matter what you say. there’s more romance in that than anything, to me.]

LADY BIRD: Sure, I guess I pay attention.

(The current shot frames the two in the light of the window in SISTER SARAH-JOAN’s office. They sit an equal distance apart from each other, centered in the frame. SISTER SARAH JOAN is looking directly at LADY BIRD, attention unwavering. She looks fondly at the girl, like she knows something that LADY BIRD doesn’t.)

SISTER SARAH-JOAN: Don’t you think that maybe they are the same thing? Love and attention?

The Fool continues on his Journey—The Hero’s Journey [This Is Not The Path I Take]—and by the end of it he encounters The World. she denotes Glory, Completion, Satisfaction, Joy. The World hold’s The Wizard’s Wand [Wands: Passion, Creativity, Fire]. she totes the Fixed Zodiacs. The World is An Ending. The Fool has run Full Circle.

[i wake up and know there is an end i am reaching for: both in immediate terms and more wide ones—your terms and mine. i stretch out for you, fingers almost brushing yours throughout time. very soon i will feel Satisfaction, Joy. i think about the softness of your cheek and your short sharp brows.]

[i declare my major and make the end of these four years loom into sight. i almost chose a new minor today. when i hang up with a Very Nice Woman who Very Much Just Cheated The System To Get Me Into My Classes, i feel the nag of you within me. something tugs on that Red String. you look both ways before you cross. i almost jump out of my seat before remembering the distance. with a scowl, i slink back to the dorm.]

[i am reaching for a future now; a major and a final degree, officially, on paper. i am reaching for a future where i have a professional to help me hold my mother’s narcissism, my grandfather’s old piano. i am reaching for an adult to tell me to spread gel on this body in order to make it my body, proofreading the life i live instead of only the papers i submit for my livelihood. i am reaching out for something, a wider life, with you in it, where we pick berries in the summer and watch movies miles apart in milder weather. where i wake up next to you every morning for three months instead of three days. i want your mom to like me. i want your sister to tell me all about her friends. i want to drop by your house on christmas, to kiss you on new year’s, to drag you to another performance in the theatre of my heart. i push towards something. i want you in it for every step.]

both the Major and Minor Arcana cards have distinct, alternate but similar meanings when flipped 180 degrees, or reversed. The World is no exception. she, when reversed, can denote Stagnation, Fixity, No Closure.

[i linger on you when i am not supposed to. you are my favorite topic of discussion. you run circles around me. your ghost is everywhere. i burn hot thinking of your touch. several kisses are in order. more than several. i paint rubber cement on my hands and on my hip and on the spot where my forehead rests on your jawbone. stay with me: we are both The Bull but my leisure seeps through further. come back to bed. take your time. stay with me, Stagnation, Fixity, the Fire of Wands burning all alongside me. i know you exist somewhere in this world but just not by my side. i drool across the streets of this city. i ache knowing you sit somewhere aching the same.]

The World denotes An Ending. i will get there soon. I Will Get There Soon. i know this. i will eventually Know This.

LADY BIRD: Do you think I look like I’m from Sacramento?

…….

CHRISTINE: Hi Mom and Dad, it’s me. Christine. It’s the name you gave me. It’s a good one. Dad, this is more for Mom - Hey Mom: did you feel emotional the first time that you drove in Sacramento? I did and I wanted to tell you, but we weren’t really talking when it happened. All those bends I’ve known my whole life, and stores, and the whole thing. But I wanted to tell you. I love you. Thank you, I’m... thank you.

i flip myself upright. read; Improvisation, New Beginnings, Originality, Leap of Faith. read; Innocence. read; Yes. read, in Love; Impulse, Fun, Joy, Uncontainable Excitement, I Love You, Exuberance, I Love You, The Fool Carries A Dog And The Dog Barks Back, I Love You.

i slide the Two Of Cups across the table. i slide you a text about therapy. i slide you your old coffee order turned into mine.

i slide the Four of Swords reversed and let it flip to the Ace of the same but upright. i hold up The Star. things will be okay.

i am watching the sun [The Sun] rise. it’s light outside. something feels different recently. The World no longer feels Reversed.

[in the end of Lady Bird she figures it out. it takes the whole movie, but she finally learns. She Calls First. my call is coming from my own Sacramento—but my call is also coming from Inside The House.]

my eyes dance shut. two birds fly outside the ever lightening window. my throat is dry. i know i will dream of you beside me.

#it’s 5am. I just ate McDonald’s with a bunch of the drunk improv ppl. i was sober. good night #poetry #writing #creative writing #creative writer #poem #the herb garden #writings #poems #poet #creative writings

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

Here’s a free preview:

Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

🌸Check out my Patreon for the full story! 🌸

#wlw #urban fantasy #writing #found family #sapphic #short story #femslash #writers on tumblr #writeblr #magical realism #patreon #my work #long post #long post cw

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svtshine · 4 years

Text

Unconditionally

pairing: Wonwoo x reader

genre: Angst to fluff, High school!au

type: imagine

extras: Wonwoo edit made by @delicatecy do check their page out! Open to requests ^^

_____________________________________________

Agape

|a•ga•pe•| /n./

1. the highest form of love. Selfless, sacrificial and unconditional love; persists no matter the circumstances

_____________________________________________

Day 1

Wonwoo dragged himself to school and stuffed his hands inside his hoodie pockets, his nose burried under his scarf. He longed to return to his warm bed amidst this cold winter morning. School was restarting and this year he would be attending as a second year student.

He sighed out, watching the cold air turn into white mist around him. There was another thing he dreaded. Maybe not a thing, but a human.

Y/n L/n

You began following him around like a lost puppy sometimes during last march. He never understood why you were so persistent but it annoyed him to no end.

Wonwoo began to hate everything about you. Your irritating smile that greeted him every morning without fail. Your stupid little notes you would slide into his locker telling him to have a nice day. Your voice as you chattered about god knows what. He had never paid any attention to you.

He wanted to be alone. Eat alone, study alone, walk home alone. He just wanted you gone. You were like a pest, a leech that he just couldn’t seem to remove

Wonwoo has shot you down for what seems to be like the hundredth time. Whenever you greet him with a smile, he glared back at you and shoved his locker close making you jump at the loud sound. He would try to purposefully trip you or tease you hurt fully to make you stay away. He even talk bad about you infront of girls hoping you would leave

But you never did. You always greeted him with a smile and talked about homework and stuff. You also prepared or bought lunch for him. Even if he was paired with another girl, you would follow him around

Wonwoo so badly wanted to get rid of you

He closed his locker after getting out his things and was met with the sight of you looking up at him and giving him a big smile. “Hi won, how’s your morning? Have you eaten?”

Wonwoo grunted, picked up his bag and went into the classroom. Thanking the girls that flocked around him would prevent you from coming closer to him.

Forgetting the fact that the teacher assigned you to sit infront of him. He knew you persuaded the teacher to change seats with another classmate. God you were so annoying.

You sat down at your seat and opened up your bag to find the lunchbox you got up early to prepare wonwoo. You weren’t exactly a chef but you wanted to try cooking one whole meal for him. Here wonnie. I prepared all your favourites again” you said hoping he might glance at you once and at least give you an acknowledgment.

Wonwoo paid no attention to you and instead focused on the conversation with some other girls and guys. Your smiled dropped and your heart felt like it received some stabs.

but this was normal

Wonwoo saw your smile drop and turn to face the front. He looked at the lunchbox in front of him. You usually didn’t cook. It was mainly sandwiches or snacks.

He didn’t notice the numerous bandages on your hand.

Day 2

You greeted him again at the lockers. Wonwoo was particularly moody that morning.

“Hi won, did you eat breakfast?” you asked him

“You’re not in the position to ask. Stop being so extra. Seriously just get a life.” He spit out coldly.

You were taken aback. Of course you knew he didn’t like you but he never said anything verbally before.

Wonwoo saw you flinch slightly and for a second he felt guilty. You looked so scared. but to his surprise you smiled brightly at him and replied with an “Okay”

Day 3

“Yah wonwoo, why don’t we prank Y/n” one of the girls asked him

Wonwoo glanced away not liking the sound of it

“You can invite her to a movie and just stand her up. You know like sending a message? She likes you but after this she might just stay away finally” One of the other girls said

Now Wonwoo was interested.

“Just tell her to meet you tomorrow at the entrance of the movie theatre because you have a free ticket”

Wonwoo knew it was a shit move but it might actually make you stay away and stop bothering him

“Fine” shooeing away all the other people before tapping your shoulder.

“Y/n” You smiled excitedly since this was one of the few times he wanted to initiate a small conversation. Wonwoo on the other hand wanted to scrunch his face in disgust at how desperate you looked.

“i have two free tickets to a movie. So tomorrow at 5? outside the theatre?” You bobbed your head up and down.

Wonwoo almost felt bad at how much you were looking forwards to going out with him and even wanted to tell you the truth

But he clenched his fists and put on a small fake smile

This would be his chance to finally get rid of you

Day 4

You greeted Wonwoo per usual.

“So wonwoo, what are we going to watch later?” You waited for his answer as you stood beside his locker

“oh uh” Wonwoo hesitated for a while, “We can decide later”

Luckily for him, the bell rang and the both of you had to return to class.

After school, you rushed back home and found the perfect outfit for the movie.

You took about two hours to find the perfect outfit and reach the theatre on time.

You kept glancing at the watch on your wrist. It was nearly 30 minutes after five and there was no sign of Wonwoo anywhere. However, you never left and continued waiting in case he came late

About 8.10 pm, Wonwoo passed by the theatre towards the library to get some new books. That was when he saw you. The library was opposit the theatre thus it gave him a good view of you

and you wouldn’t be able to spot and follow him

You were blowing into your palms and dressed in an adorable flowery dress. It was getting closer with each hour.

Wonwoo’s glanced at his clock. she’s been waiting her for 5 hours?

He felt bad. He knew how bad of an idea this was but he had never meant to take it that far

But maybe after this she might really leave, won’t she?

He clenched his fists and bit his lip from walking over and telling her the truth

Day 5

As wonwoo took his first few steps into school he mentally thought to himself, in 5, 4, 3, 2,1 and the leech is back.

But he was taken aback when he didn’t hear your cheery voice greeting him good morning. Maybe at the lockers? He convinced himself.

Wonwoo got all of his stuff ready, and prepared himself for your cheery voice greeting him good morning. But as he closed his locker and turned around to where you usually stood, there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo hesitated. Why didn’t he feel happy that you weren’t there anymore?

Why did he feel so empty? like he missed seeing you beside him everyday.

He shook his head and walked to class. Maybe she forgot to catch the train?

Day 8

it’s been 3 days and there was absolutely no sign of you.

Wonwoo twirled his pen around in his hand and stared at the seat infront of him, chin on his hand. Usually he would be able to stare at your hair whenever he was bored, and sure sometimes he’d roll his eyes at how annoying you were.

But now, he sort of missed you.

Wonwoo missed how you would greet him at the lockers in the morning. How you would prepare or buy him lunch. How you always make sure to refill his bottle before and after physical class so that he has enough water to drink.

He couldn’t help but feel the intense guilt from standing you up that day

“Class before we end today’s lesson” the teacher said while packing up his books.

Wonwoo looked up, “Unfortunately, our classmate, Y/n met with a terrible car accident 4 days ago near the theatre. Thus, she’s isn’t going to be able to attend school for a while.”

Wonwoo’s breathing stopped

4 days ago. Near the theatre

He was right there. Watching her wait for him.

The guilt in his chest spread even more. He could’ve done something. Told her the truth. Not fking stand her up?

You’ve done so much for him, and even though he thought you were a nuisance, treated you badly your smile never faltered. You looked out for him unconditionally

Always made sure he was okay before you took care of yourself.

“Once she is allowed visitors” The teacher continued. “i would need a volunteer to pass her school materials and teach her some of the homework”

Wonwoo raised his hand immediately.

Day 11

Wonwoo heard the beeping of the machines wherever he walked in the hospital.

In his hands were your homework over the past one week that you haven’t attended school and a bouquet of flowers. The teacher had informed him your condition had improved greatly over the one week and that he was allowed to visit her.

Finally.

Wonwoo missed you. So damn much. He actually visited your hospital everyday hoping you would be walking downstairs and he would just wait there for a few hours before returning home.

He wasn’t able to catch one sight of you. This was probably how you felt when he stood you up.

Wonwoo finally found your room. He inhaled and exhaled to stop himself for being so nervous. Knocking twice, he heard your soft voice saying it was okay to come in.

He saw you lying on the bed. A book in your hands, your hair in a bun and wearing reading glasses.

You were shocked to the bones. Your parents informed you that the teacher had sent a volunteer to pass you the stuff you missed out in but never in the whole world would you have expected Wonwoo. With flowers as well.

He probably was forced into this.

“Wonwoo, you can just put those down here and leave. I’m sure you were forced into doing this. Thank you” you said gently.

Wonwoo shook his head and sat down on the chair beside you after closing the door

“No”

You tilted your head in confusion. Why wouldn’t he want to leave?

“you’ve always cared for me” Wonwoo spoke

“Greeting me, wishing me a good day, buying or making me lunch, refilling my bottle and even writing down my notes when i fall asleep in class” his voice got less steady with each sentence.

“I’ve never treated you nicely. Always brushed you away, thought you were a nuisance. When you’re the one person who cared for me like no one else.” He looked down. “You always smile at me even if i treat you badly”

You hesitantly took your hand and combed it through his hair, the whole time looking at Wonwoo if he was comfortable with it. But he only nuzzled closer to your palm

“That day, when i invited you to the movies. They asked me to prank you, and thinking selfishly that you would stop bothering me after that, i-i just stood you up”

He took your hands into his. Loving the way it fit perfectly in his palms.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m sorry for not seeing how great you were. For judging your actions and for not caring for you sooner. i got you into this car accident. If i went to the theatre, maybe things would’ve been different. You wouldn’t have had to go through so much pain. All because of me” By now, Wonwoo’s eyes were filled with tears and they fell steadily.

You didn’t say anything, just shifted closer to him and brushed away his tears before smiling brightly at him. “Wonwoo, i forgive you. i’ll always look out for you, you know that. Unconditionally”

Wonwoo felt his heart rate pick up

Day 15

Over the days, you were significantly getting better. Wonwoo visited every single day and brought you snacks that you like. After getting closer this few days, Wonwoo was able to see how great of a person you are.

One day, he was coming into the hospital when he saw you with the children in the reading corner. You read them a book and made sure everyone was engaged. The way you smiled at them, made Wonwoo feel so proud of your kindness.

He would usually see you pushing older residents through the garden and talking to them.

He realised how much he missed of you. How you deserved that much kindness and humility back.

Wonwoo came into your hospital room that one time and you fell asleep waiting for him. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful that Wonwoo couldn’t help but raise his hand and brush away your stray hair before staring at you.

He left a peck on your forehead.

Day 18

You were finally being discharged. The doctors ran some tests and made sure you were completely healed but still had to avoid some physical activities in school.

The whole day the two of you ran to the children’s room and the older residents’s room, handing out snacks and flowers, wishing for their quick recovery.

Everyone hugged you before you left, thanking you for spending time with them.

With the promise that you would return and visit them, you left the hospital, hand in hand with Wonwoo.

Your parents were busy, thus they thanked Wonwoo for helping to see you home.

Wonwoo saw the big smile on your face and finally got up the courage, “So y/n”

you faced him and hummed.

“i was wondering, if, if you know we could come visit them together?” He said, hand in the nape of his neck.

You nodded quickly, happy that he wanted to spend more time with you. You couldn’t contain your excitement and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

Wonwoo carefully twirled you around and chuckled. “and, maybe afterwards, i could really bring you to the movies?”

You nodded, hands on his neck and his on your waist.

“I fell in love with you Y/n L/n, now it’s my turn to take care of you. Unconditionally”

Masterlist

#seventeen #svt #scenario #wonwoo #Jeon wonwoo #Wonwoo x reader #Wonwoo x reader angst #Wonwoo x reader fluff #angst to fluff #School!au #Non-idol!au

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panicartist · 2 years

Text

Stein at the movies Pt. 3 “Double date?” (drawfee character fan fiction)

A brief and whimsical fanfic in 4 parts about Jacob’s character Stein from this drawfee video Part 1 Leigh audibly gasped. That's my line, thought Stein. "Don't tell me," they muttered so only Leigh could hear them, "that guy over there is 'Terry'." "Ugh. And look at who he's with. Some dude so old he's practically a bag of bones. Err, no offense." Leigh looked apologetic for the first time that night. Stein just gave her a confused look in return - they were trying to figure out which part exactly to not be offended by. "Can you believe that asshole said he'd introduce me to Dracula? The Dracula. I bet he's never even met the guy. He's obviously just doing this to get at me." Look who's talking, thought Stein. "Quick, kiss me," she went on, "Hurry up, he'll look over here any moment and when he does we need to be snogging like I am so over him." Stein was caught off guard by the sudden request and sat dumbfounded for a moment. Then they decided to just take the opportunity as it came. They hadn't had a real kiss in a while to be fair - it had been a couple of months already since the beginning of their ‘research project’ - and this kiss had such low stakes it was basically a freebie. They leaned in for what was possibly one of the most intense snogs they had ever been witness to, let alone taken part in. Leigh seemed to be trying to jam her tongue down their throat and lick the back of their neck like an inverted lollipop. Then she suddenly pulled away and spat something out onto Stein's lap. It was their tongue. They stared at it for a while, almost unable to compute. Oh shit, that's not good is it, they thought to themself. Of course they were unable to articulate that thought on account of their tongue being a little wet lump lying limply in their lap, rather than the animated organ dancing eloquently in their mouth that it should have been. They looked up, and felt like they knew what it meant to be a deer in the headlights, accepting their fate, unable to do anything about it. But Leigh was grinning. "Don't worry, I've spat up much worse things on a first date. Anyway, he saw the good bit, and that's what counts." You really know how to pick'em, Stein said to themself. They said it in their internal monologue, since their external monologue had been cancelled until further notice. They picked up the limp appendage and stuffed it into a flesh pocket (not the same one as their phone was in - that would be gross). Somehow, Leigh's plan seemed to be working - Terry dragged Fritz all the way around the theatre and up to the back row, ending up basically right next to Leigh, leaving only a single empty seat between the two exes. Fritz looked over at Stein apologetically. Then he got his phone out and tapped frantically at the screen, just as the last 'coming soon' trailers finished playing and the 'turn off your phones' message started blaring out of the speakers. "It's not what it looks like" -Fritz "Unless it looks like I'm on a date with a total hottie. Double date?" -Fritz "Sorry - I really tried to pick a different film than you. I thought you'd seen this one??" -Fritz Stein didn't reply. It could wait until later. The movie was just as mediocre on second viewing as it had been the first time, except this time Stein wasn't caught out by any of the jump scares. Occasionally they would turn to watch their neighbours just when they knew a scare was coming, to see their reactions. Surprisingly, the hyper-masculine Terry was much more affected than either of Fritz and Leigh. Well, it wasn't surprising that Leigh wasn't caught out by jump scares, but Fritz had always struck Stein as being the nervous type. When it came to the big reveal at the end of the movie - that the Final Girl had been the killer all along (and therefore, in a way, none of the original cast had survived the ordeal) - Terry practically jumped out of his seat. Even in the darkness of the cinema, Stein could see the sweat running down the side of his pale face. It's a shame Terry isn't dead, Stein thought idly to themself, there are a lot of very usable parts there... Suddenly, Terry turned around and seemed to be looking straight toward Stein. Whoops, they thought, how am I going to explain why I was staring at Fritz' date instead of my own. They opened their mouth a little, searching for words before realising that their tongue was still wedged firmly in their flesh pocket, and would be of no use right now. Terry stood up and turned away - the end credits were rolling now. But what he did next was truly unbelievable. To be continued... Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 [A.N. - Thanks to anyone reading this! Just getting a couple of likes here and there has me grinning like a fool :) I’ll edit and post the fourth and final part tomorrow.]

#drawfee #frankenstein #fanfic

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #18.5:

———————————

A/N: I know y’all wanna know what happens here sooo I’ll meet you down at the end with more of my authors notes!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

EARLIER THAT NIGHT - 10:36 PM - ISSA MESS AT THE MOVIES - PART 2 😭🤡

“Hey. You sure you don’t want us to go with you? I can cancel with my parents and—“

You interrupted your friend, waving her off nonchalantly as you jumped out of the back her car. “No, no, Kusa. Thank you for driving me. You guys didn’t need to! But I really appreciate it. I need this time by myself to just…. You know…. Breathe.”

Kusa frowned at you, still look unsure as to whether she should leave you alone at the theatre or not. Going to the movies alone is a little weird in her opinion, and she knows that you have still been so heartbroken from your breakup, so the fact that Aone had been asked out by one of the girls on the Date Teko cheer team that you considered a friend really hit you hard.

Despite it all, she and Katana have agreed to let you deal with this the way you see fit, because forcing their desires on you wasn’t the right way to go, and the last time they tried that you cut them off for a week. They had to tread very carefully, as friends.

“Okay, babe. Call us when you want to get picked up, Okay? We don’t mind.”

You nodded, wrapping your favourite jacket around you a bit more tightly. The sweater-jacket that actually belonged to the man you were in love with. “Thank you.”

Shutting the door, you stepped back so that Kusa could drive away.

Katana, who was sitting in the passengers seat, pressed the button to roll up her window and You gave them one last wave, ready to see them off, but just before you could Katana—quiet and deep in thought, pressed the same button to roll the window back down. The car didn’t budge.

“Y/N.” The pretty cheer captain said in a small voice, staring at her lap. You had to lean in to hear her.

“Hm?”

Big brown eyes looked into yours as your bestie stared at you. It was silent for a moment and the intensity in the air was palpable. Finally, the brunette spoke.

“I’m worried about you.” She finished, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen her.

Earlier this Saturday night, you found yourself crying in the shower after you heard that an ex teammate of yours, Sutairu, is interested and has decided to pursue Aone.

This girl was gorgeous, sweet, and has noticed your Mountain Man from day one, unlike you. There is not one bad thing you can say about her, and you were sure that eventually—especially with Futakuchi’s help—Aone would some day let his walls down for her. One day you would see the most perfect man in the world with another girl because you let him.

And even though it’s what he deserves: a girl that is better than you, the thought alone shatters you every time it crosses your mind.

Aone was on this girls instagram story,—a photo of him in another hoodie standing in front of the students he teaches with a caption saying: MCM🤫💋❄️

What did that mean? Could they be dating now?

Enough was enough. After crying in your shower, You decided you needed a change in scenery, so you got dressed, only putting on concealer and keeping the natural state of your hair when it’s wet. You threw on a huge cardigan, a tank top and some jeans and told the girls what you had planned. Kusa wouldn’t take no for answer, so they insisted on dropping to you at the theatre to see this action-thriller you found on the website.

So here you are, heart dragging behind you on the floor. You needed to be alone and you needed a change of scenery, that’s all you knew. So now hearing your besties and seeing the absolute fear for your well-being evident on their faces, made your stomach turn even more. Mainly because you couldn’t help them help you. No one can. So that’s why all you answered was,

“I’m worried too.” Staring into the eyes of the two beautiful females you call your best friends. You then Added, “But I need this hour, okay?. I’ll see you guys later. I have my phone.” Without waiting for a response, you spun away from the car to walk into the large building downtown, straight to the bathroom so you could cry in the stalls prior to the movie.

After you spent a good 10 minutes using toilet paper to wipe under your eyes, then reapplying some conveniently packed concealer there in the mirror, you stuffed the Fenty Beauty case in your purse and walked out of the bathroom so that you can purchase your ticket at the self-serve automated machine. You had grabbed your ticket when it slid out the slot and were began walking to your designated theatre when you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

“Hey! Y/N?”

Turning toward the voice, you looked over to see a group of 4 boys, all of which you’ve seen before, but in volleyball practice gear. While they were all staring over at you, naturally—your eyes settled on the one in the middle that you recognized the most. And the one who called your name.

“Takeru,” You breathed, honestly relieved that it wasnt someone from school that you had to pretend you wanted to speak to. Takeru is someone you genuinely liked, that you actually got close to at the Volleyball/Cheer Camp last summer.

“One sec!” He called, and you stood there waiting as Nakashima handed his card to his friends that were waiting at the ticket kiosk. One of them must have said something annoying to him, because Takeru blushed and told him to shut the fuck up. Feeling scrutinized by his friends, you wrapped your arms around your torso as he stealthily limbo-ed under the rope that divided the line from from the rest of the theatre.

***

“Ouuu dudes, look. That’s Takanobu’s super hot girlfriend that you fell in love with last summer! This is your second chance bro, don’t fuck it up!” Takeru’s friend nudged him with his elbow and teased him from where he was standing in line. The other boys chuckled when he said that.

Takeru went red—mostly because he knew it was true. “Shut the fuck up, I’m over her!” He defended himself. He resisted the urge to hit his friend for saying that out loud. Getting out the line because he couldn’t risk his dumb friends exposing his past crush like they almost did multiple times last summer, Nakashima escaped the line to approach you, finding himself jogging over, instead of walking.

🤨

SLOW DOWN, Takeru told himself. ARE YOU REALLY THAT EXCITED TO SEE HER?

“Hi, Y/N!” The ex-high school volleyball player greeted you with a warm smile that neither of you had any idea was reserved for only you. “It’s been a while.”

You forced a smile back, but you could see by the way that his own smile faltered that Takeru noticed your smile didn’t reach your eyes. “You okay?” He asked, concerned.

Lying, you nodded, looking down at your boots and Nakashima resisted the urge to reach forward and tilt your head up. To touch your beautiful skin like he’s wanted to do since the first day you approached him for help, he really thought those emotions had fled… but being around you again made him realize that obvioulsy they hadn’t.

She’s taken, idiot. The athlete reminded himself.

“Is Takanobu here?” Nakashima thought to ask, distinctly remembering how much just mentioning his name would bring a big smile to your face back at camp, lighting it up in its entirety.

So imagine Takeru shock, however, when you winced at the sound of his name instead of beamed. Still staring at your boots, you shook your head. “No, I’m here alone.”

Alone?

Ask. He told himself. ASK!

“Um-ummm—“ is all he could stutter out.

S m o o t h, idiot. he chastised himself for being so lame.

“Please, Takeru-san,” you lifted your head to look up at the man you considered to be a pretty good friend. “Don’t.”

Even though his mind was buzzing with a million questions, Being the smart volleyball player he is, Takeru shut his mouth because the tears welling up in your eyes was enough of an answer than any. His heart sunk seeing you look so unbelievably broken. Without missing a beat, He switched gears. “—What movie are you seeing?” He asked instead.

You grinned weakly but gratefully at his change in topic, a smile that actually did reach your eyes. “Uh, I don’t even know,” you chuckled pathetically. “I just picked any random movie, um, because, yeah.”

She’s so cute, thought Nakashima. “Well it’s written on your ticket. Shall we see?”

“Oh, uh, right.” Feeling dumb, you lifted the ticket in your hand and read the movie title aloud,

“Jet Down 2.”

A large amused smile graced Takeru’s face. “Really—that is probably the biggest ‘guy’ movie ever made,”

You nodded, not wanting to mention that hearing the title made you remember that your ex loved the original of this movie. Your nod introduced Takeru and yourself to an awkward silence. You weren’t about to tell him that you picked a movie that you’d be the least interested in so that you can cry in peace because the sounds of shit blowing up will drown out your sobs, no ma’am. If this was any other time, you would have been so happy to see and catch up with this boy. Asking a million questions and telling him how happy you were to see him. But unfortunately, all you could think about was the “MCM” Snapchat you saw earlier. You were devastated, and Takeru caught on to it.... seeing you about to shatter, yet again. He offered his help.

“Want some company? Uh—“

You immediately shook your head. “No, Takeru-san! You came here with your friends. Enjoy that. Don’t mind me, I....“

Nakashima stared down at you like you were a work of art. When you stopped your pathetic babbling, he nodded slowly, recognizing the same expressions he’s seen his sister’s wear when they were on the verge of crying over a boy. Right before they yelled him to leave their room, leave them alone, and shut the door. The same rule probably applied here. Like an expert, Nakashima backed off. “Okay,” he continued nodding. “I guess I’ll go then. It was really nice seeing you.” He opened his arms and you leaned in for a chaste hug, immediately wishing the male arms around you belonged to a certain white haired volleyball player instead.

Takeru, on the other hand, didn’t realize how much he missed the feel of you in his arms again. He didn’t want to let go. He wished that the feelings you had for Aone-san were for him. Stupid.

Uncharacteristically, Nakashima turned his head to whisper something in your ear before you let go. Before he never saw you again. “But, tonight, if you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m just one theatre over… Okay? I have a pretty comfortable shoulder, so just text me.”

Holding back tears, you nodded, removing yourself to make your way to the bathroom again.

***

Better late than never, you thought to yourself as you sadly sat in your seat in the theatre solo, unsure of how much time has even passed. You didn’t realize this stupid movie would be so packed, but you were thankful for assigned seating (since you specifically chose an aisle seat in case you needed to make another fast-cry escape). You just sat in your seat, curling into a ball and trying to hold it together the best you can.

You couldn’t.

Another 10-minutes later, you found yourself ugly crying in your three-quarter eaten popcorn, completely drenching the salty snack and making it soggy.

A MESS, you called yourself. This movie was about guns and cars and shit blowing up—but all it took was one tiny little subplot romance scene to break you. LIKE I SAID: A MESS.

One little stupid ‘be safe’ scene and you were thinking about the time you went to the movies with your ex boyfriend and current love of your life. That time, you had insisted on watching this scary movie but you were getting so unbelievably scared, refusing to leave when your boyfriend offered because you are strong af, so when you resorted to hiding yourself behind his bicep and whimpering instead. Takanobu had enough when he heard you make those sad noises, so he scooped you up from your seat so that you were sitting in his lap. That way, you felt his strong arms around you on boy sides and you were easily able to bury your face in his chest or finish the movie. You finished the movie.🥰

You would like to say that that was one of the sweetest things that has ever happened to you, but what with being in a relationship with Aone Takanobu for the past year—that absolutely tooth rottenly sweet gesture wouldn’t even crack the Top 10.

Your tears poured down your cheeks, and you imperceptibly wiped your tears on the sweater of his that you were wearing. Then you realized whose sweater it was and cried even harder! Your heart hurt so much.

And to make matters worse, you ran out of tissues.

Knowing that with your luck you’d run into someone you knew if you left now with a completely drenched face. A/N: or turned around :/desperate and sad, you decided to text your friend Takeru about your dilemma. All you asked him for were some tissues because he sort of knew what you were going through even though you didn’t spell it out for him. You hoped he could help for now and then later tonight you’d send him back the money he spent on his movie or something. You kept erasing the message but decided to send it when others in your row were possibly on to the fact that you were sniffling so much for more serious reasons.

You sent it. Received a response within seconds saying he was on his way.

Nakashima stumbled in to your the theatre not long after. You waved to him where you were seated in the dark, and he came over like a good friend, giving you a brand new popcorn and a set of tissues. You smiled weakly at the kind gesture and remembered that Aone is the entire reason why this boy Takeru is even here right now. Your tears re-established themselves as your date on this your solo movie night as you leaned your head on Nakashima’s shoulder, who told you that if Aone broke up with you he was an idiot.

“I’m the idiot,” You whispered to him, because even if it was just a fleeting thought—Aone didn’t deserve any blame. Ever. He is undoubtedly the best person on this planet. “It’s me,” You whispered again, glad that your whiney voice was no match for the volume of the explosions on screen. You blew your nose in a tissue and resumed your position on Takeru’s shoulder. The gesture was platonic enough, but you realized then and there that there was only one shoulder you felt comfortable leaning on, whether it was friendly or not. You sat back up in your seat and met the gaze of a concerned volleyball player.

“Takeru, I’m so sorry. Can you bring me home—“ the request died on your tongue as you witnessed, or at least you think you did— a dark blur of a a large body with…silver? No, white hair racing down the stairs as if he’d been pushed down them. The figure turned on its heels and fled the theatre in a faster speed than should be possible for a body so large.

The oddness stopped you in your tracks for a second.

Why did that person-?

You were confused, until a waft of fresh mountainous breeze hit your nostrils, making you gasp. It was The best scent in the world. The scent that was vaguely imbedded in the sweater you were wearing. The scent that belonged to—oh God. You choked on your tears.

“Was that…..?” Your tear stained face scrunched together, trying to piece two-and-two together as your losty brain overworked itself.

“What were you going to say? You want a drive home?” You could faintly hear Nakashima’s question even though he was right beside you. You were too busy thinking about how that couldn’t have been Aone who stormed out of here, would he choose this movie—oh my—

Lightbulb turning on, you whipped your entire upper body around and searched the seats for someone recognizable. While your scanning stopped momentarily on a few students from school, they ultimately swam to the person or persons you were looking for: There! Kenji-san and Koganagewa-san, two males who were looking at you and Takeru as if you two were the villains in the movie that just popped out of the screen.

So that WAS Aone!

Why didn’t he come say hi?!

Your heart started racing. Because you loved him.

But if that was Aone.....

Then why did he leave in such a hurry like that…?

And why were his friends looking at you and Nakashima like we…..?

Hold on.

Your eyes take a mind of their own, whipping from Futakuchi, to Kanji, to Takeru, to Takeru’s shoulder that you ere just laying on, back to the vacant seat where Aone must have been sitting in the between his two friends, and then you looked down at your sweater—his sweater. You thought back to Aone’s shattered expression when you broke up with him by the Ferris wheel and then you saw your own brisk walk from that night redone in his body in the way he just left this theatre blur.

Oh no, You thought. Did this look like a…? With Takeru…?!

OH GOD NO.

Your heart dropped like one of those rides at the amusement park:

“Y/N. Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick! I can bring you home if you— Y/N? Y/N WAIT LET ME GET MY KEYS—!“

You were already gone, leaving your purse, wallet, phone and everything behind—not having to jump over anyones legs to run down the stairs and out of the theatre. You weren’t as fast as Aone, not by a long shot—but you’d be surprised how fast a girl can move when she’s running to the love of her life.

Running around the empty theatre because everyone was watching a movie, you quickly checked the boys bathroom (not caring that you shouldn’t be in there) before realizing it was empty and then sprinting outside in to the cold night.

Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be gone, you chanted.

Your head snapped left and right, eyes scanning the parking lot for Aone’s car, and when you spotted it signalling and waiting to make a right out of the theatre, you dangerously raced toward it! Heart pumping, you jumped in front of the vehicle with both hands extended in front of you as if you had the strength to stop the car from moving if you could.

The horn of the car honked dramatically, followed by a head that was not your Mountain Man’s sticking out the window to shout profanities at you to get the fuck out of the way.

Stepping back shakily, you automatically went back to scanning the lot again for the same 4 wheeler, because locating that car was ALL that mattered right now.

Finding HIM was all that mattered.

You had to be more cautious now in your search. More purposeful.

Far back, hundreds of meters from where you were standing you could make out a car that you somehow knew was his. Something, just something, told you it was, and your heart started racing even faster. The lights had turned on like the driver was about to leave, and then it shut off again as if the driver changed their mind about leaving. Without thinking about it, only listening to the pull in your heart that said your man was over there, you used your years of cheerleading experience to catapult you toward the parked vehicle.

When you got closer, your heart squeezed on its own accord as if someone was making pizza dough with it. Slowing down, you took in the sight that was your ex boyfriend sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, white hair visible only because his head was down, forehead kissing the steering wheel, his shoulders vibrating slightly because he is crying. It’s him.

Position:

Not stopping to think anymore, acting on pure love and instinct, you sped over to the driver’s side and tugged the door open. Thank God it was unlocked.

This giant mountain man didn’t move from his position crying on the steering wheel. Only muttering a broken, “Kenji-san, please leave me—“

“Not Justin Bieber look-alike!” You croaked loudly, heart pounding when this gorgeous man’s head lifted as soon as you uttered your first syllable. He looked you up and down and your breath caught in your throat. You’ve NEVER seen such a beautiful man cry before, and although it tugged at what was left of your heart—you thought he looked breathtaking.

“Y/N…..? D-did Kenji-san send you out-t-t he-here? I apolo-pologize—“

You shook your head, unable to stop yourself from pouring your heart out.

“Hey. Remember the other day after you helped me film my cheerleading tryout, you said that you were happy we were fr-friends?” You asked sharply, ignoring his apology for now, and forever grateful for the fact that you had major cojones when you wanted to. They came in handy at times like this.

With red puffy eyes, Aone wiped his face and then nodded, making you melt.

“Well,” You took a shaky breath, sliding your own tears to the side before you left your heart out on the table for this man.

“Well, I’m not your friend, Aone.”

Aone visibly swallowed, his eyes welling up with tears again. He hated himself so much for crying like this.

“I-I know, not y-yet, bu-but I was hoping one day you’d-d—“ Mountain man didn’t even know what he wanted to say, he was dead.

“No. I’m not your friend.” You repeated yourself, watching a shiver run through Takanobu due to the chill in your voice and the intensity your eyes held.

You could sense that he wasnt getting where you were going with this play on words, so you cut to the chase. Hopefully he would get it after hearing what he had to say next, just like you did when he said these same words to you once in a bowling alley.

“The reason I can’t be your friend is because I like you so much more than a friend, Aone. You have no idea how much more.”

Aone shivered again, his beautiful lips separating because his jaw dropped slightly. He recognized his words on your lips now, you could tell. He was understanding how you felt now, so you continued anxiously:

“Everything about you drives me absolutely insane, Takanobu. Your spirit, your love, the way you are the only man I will ever love……even the way you can’t notice that your ex is still madly in love with you, and that she only came here tonight to cry over you alone but ran into someone, and even though she was dumb enough to break up with you.”

Aone’s jaw had just dropped wider as you spoke, his mind reeling.

You stepped in closer to where he was sitting in his car, closing the distance because you just couldn’t stand being any further from him anymore. You also wanted to whisper this next part. You wanted him to know that his confession to you was etched in your brain so much so that you could recite it in a moments notice, even if that said moment was full of pure emotional madness like right now.

“I’m not your friend, Aone.” You repeated once again. “I don’t want to be. I want to be everything else for you. Everything more. Takanobu, I have a confession to make.” You used both of your cold hands to cup his cheeks, his beautiful, red, stubble filled, wet cheeks.

“I love you. I love you, my Mountain Man. I love you more than I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. I loved you on the Ferris wheel, and I loved you when you filmed my tryouts. I love you Right now, and I will forever. I will explain everything, I promise. But there has never been, nor will there ever be anyone else for me other than you, Aone-san.”

You giggled through your tears because Takanobu looked so confused but happy. It was an odd expression, but very cute. You continued,

“I know we get called Losties a lot which used to bother me, but you know what: maybe we are, but that’s besides the point—because all I know is that I used to hate being called that…. Until I met you.” You leaned in so that your foreheads were touching. “When I met you, Aone-san....... I stopped caring about being lost….... none of it mattered to me.......insofar as we were lost together. Together with you is the only way I want to go through life, Aone, so I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for letting my insecurities drive me and I’m sorry for possibly confessing to you when you have someone else. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m—“

Mountain Man imitated your gesture of cupping your cheeks in his large hands, wiping away your tears like you did to him.

And then, without saying another word like he was good at—

He slid you into his lap sitting in the front seat, back in the same position he pulled you in the last time you two were at this theatre—

and then he kissed you.

It was a kiss so passionate that you gasped into it, needing him, needing him like a hiker needed their mountain. A kiss so passionate it l lasted for the remaining duration of the movie (no word of a lie) because you refused to let each other go—but most importantly: it was a kiss that made you realize that you and Mountain Man weren’t just two losties lost together like you mentioned a bit ago—no. Absolutely not. Actually, this kiss was so passionate it made you realize that you were really two losties that were lost in every aspect in life—minus one:

Because you two could never be lost when it came to your feelings for one another. Finding true love happened to be the only aspect of life that most people on this planet remained lost in, which happened to be the exact aspect of life where you and Aone have both been….

Found.

🐢

———————————

A/N: That’s it! I am secretly here to let y’all know that there will be one more collection post next time I write, and that post will be the end of this losty series. I will cry when that time comes lmao but for now tysm for reading this marathon - I would loooove to hear your thoughts! I literally die when you guys comment or send me private messages reacting. It makes my whole day istg. Anyways, Wishing you all the best as always. See you next time. Xoxo

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu boys #haikyuu angst #hq headcanon #haikyuu!!#aone x reader #aone x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcannons #haikyuu headcannons #koganegawa kanji #kenji futakuchi #haikyuuwritersnet #aone takanobu stories #aone takanobu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #date tech

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orangerosebush · 3 years

Text

Sitting on the branches of my family tree

[ao3 link]

Artemis was currently sitting alone in the kitchen at three in the morning. He didn’t quite know when he’d officially decided he wasn’t going up to bed, but one way or another he had found himself sitting in the gloom of the downstairs.

The room was dim, as Butler had turned off the hall lights before he’d retired for the evening sometime late the previous night. The only thing illuminating the kitchen was the faint, warm glow of the metal hot plate that was keeping the water in the kettle at a low boil.

Artemis frowned. He looked down at the cup of earl grey he’d been nursing for the past half hour. Probably too cold to enjoy properly at this point, he sighed.

Faint ripples formed in what tea remained at the bottom of the mug, and he furrowed his brow. That was odd. Straining his ears, he glanced at the entrance to the kitchen apprehensively.

Sure enough, coming slowly down the grand staircase was Juliet. Artemis blinked, eyes flickering back to the old clock on the wall.

Interesting.

“Either you’re up extraordinarily early,” he remarked as she tried to slink into the kitchen as quietly as she could. “Or you’ve stayed up rather late.”

Anyone else would’ve jumped at such a surprise, but Juliet merely tensed. Years of the Blue Diamond training program had left her with nerves of steel.

Turning to face him slowly, she gave him an appraising look.

“Hey,” she said carefully.

“Hello,” he responded, amused.

Silence settled over the room.

“I always suspected that you stalked around the house at night, Artemis,” she snorted after a moment. “Relaxing too much a waste of your time?”

“You make me out to be almost sinister, Juliet. I’m afraid this is just a rather mundane example of my insomnia flaring up,” he waved her off, getting up to move to the stove top. “Do you want any of the tea I was making?”

She took a seat on one of the barstools by the main table. “Tea? If you’re either constantly on a caffeine drip or are staring at a screen all the time, then I don’t think you have insomnia. You’re just a workaholic.”

“Clinically so,” Artemis murmured, flicking off the burner. “I take it you don’t want any, then?” he called out over his shoulder.

“Nah, I want some — I’ll take whatever you have that’s decaf and fruity,” she crossed her arms on the counter and rested her chin on them.

He wrinkled his nose, taking the kettle off the burner to pour the steaming water into his cup. Opening the cabinet above the stove, he reached for another cup, the cool china of the mug soothing against his skin. He placed a tea bag at the bottom of the new cup, watching a vibrant ruby diffuse through the water as the tea steeped. In contrast, his earl grey was a richer color, almost caramel.

Fingers curling around the warmth of the cups, he brought the two mugs over to the table. Juliet perked up, reaching for her cup. She let the steam waft up, coiling around her face, and she smiled warmly, closing her eyes.

“It smells like strawberries.”

Artemis took a sip of his earl grey. “It most likely has some strawberry in it. It’s the berry mix that Barry’s carries. The box is described as a refreshing blend of ‘red’ berries,” he made air-quotes.

“I can certainly taste the red, so I’d give it full marks,” she held it up approvingly, putting on what Artemis assumed was meant to be a parody of his affectation.

“On your way to being a tea sommelier, I see.”

“Mayhaps . Also, yours better be decaf,” she shot a pointed look at his cup.

“You’re hardly in the position to speak about maintaining good sleep habits — you were wandering about the halls as well,” he reminded her, deliberately taking another sip of his tea.

She flushed. “I was asleep. It’s not my fault I woke up and wanted to stretch my legs. Also, you’re not wandering if you’re walking about with purpose.”

“Did Ko tell you that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. I heard it from some pageant mum during the tryouts for the Miss Sugar Beet Fair.”

“In what context?”

“I caught her nicking stuff from the other ladies’ purses in the cubby area,” she remarked airily.

Surprised, he laughed. “I admire her panache. Very Fowl-esque of her.”

“You can’t trademark being a conman that puts on airs, Artemis,” she rolled her eyes. “Mulch does the same shit, and I’m pretty sure he’s been around for at least three generations of Fowls.”

“I would disagree,” he stirred his tea. “At the risk of sounding egotistical, Diggums falls more into the category of being a petty crook than he does into the category of being a criminal mastermind.”

“Oh, really? We can ask him which one of us he agrees with if you want, Artemis,” she leaned forward, smug. “He’s been squatting in the cellar for about a month now.”

Artemis sighed. “I’ve been trying to actually catch a glimpse of him down there so that I can tell him to leave,” he said glumly. “I know he’s down there siphoning wine out of the casks, but he’ll surely argue that I’m just going mad if I attempt to kick him out over a phone call.”

“I thought you said he was just a petty crook,” she widened her eyes. “Shouldn’t a ‘criminal mastermind’ be able to handle evicting some random—“

“You’ve made your point,” he huffed.

“Gotcha!” she grinned.

“Congratulations, Juliet, on successfully defending Mulch’s no doubt fragile self-esteem. I have no idea how he would manage to enjoy our vintages were he to know I referred to his escapades as ‘petty’.”

Juliet shrugged. “Eh, wine is wine at the end of the day. You don’t even drink , Artemis.”

“Not all wine is created equal,” he argued, steepling his fingers. Sensing he was gearing up to give a spiel, Juliet huffed.

“Take for example the ‘87 Merlot — a wine which I suspect he has already sampled in excess,” Artemis began. “To call it a work of art would be to sell it short. Mulch is free to skim off the top of some of the lesser vintages, but I would appreciate if he would stay away from the quality wines that make up our rather expensive collection in the cellar.” Artemis sniffed, lazily swirling the remains of his tea.

Juliet snorted, resting her chin on her palm. “Nice speech. I was very moved by the ‘work of art’ bit.”

At this, the sides of Artemis’ mouth quirked upwards. “I have to defend it on principle. It was produced in an odd year, after all. Those always produce the best grapes.”

The young Butler rolled her shoulders a bit, her weight shifting in the chair as she stretched. Reaching up, her right hand tucked back a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the messy bun she’d put her hair up in before bed. “That sounds like rich bullshit. No way.”

Artemis snickered, bowing his head in concession. “You’re right. It is.”

Juliet grinned. “Knew it. Where’d you hear that bit about the odd versus even years?”

He leaned back in his chair, his grip tight on the fading warmth of his cup. “Oh, it would’ve been a while ago. I thought it was so funny when I first heard about that rule,” he smiled fondly. “The Abbey Theatre was running Six Degrees of Separation. I remember pleading with mother to take me to see one of the performances — the press had just run a piece calling it obscene — and eventually, she relented. I was probably the youngest person in the theatre that night,” he chuckled.

As if lost in the memory, Artemis closed his eyes, his expression pensive. “There was one scene where the character Paul, a conman, was leading a young man around New York City. They went to the Rainbow Room to dine, and Paul told his companion that there was a secret trick rich people use when ordering wine: universally, the wines produced in the odd years are considered to be better. I remember there were titters in the audience —wine tasting is often based more on evaluating a bottle through a formula of factors than it is about the taste, and even the couples with cellars filled with vintages worth thousands of euros could have a bit of a laugh at that.”

Artemis opened his eyes, the whites flashing in the dim light. “But you see, it’s not a commonly held belief that odd year vintages taste better than even years. He’d made the rule up.”

Juliet blinked. “So?” she furrowed her brow. “It sounds close enough to some of the stuff I’ve heard people say about wine at the parties your mum throws.”

“True, but it wasn’t even one of the myths about wine!” Artemis leaned forward earnestly. “That night, the actor playing Paul said this particular line so assuredly that you believed he’d heard this straight from the mouth of an old money wine aficionado — at that moment, his compatriot melted away, and we replaced him. Paul had turned his charm on the audience, stringing us all along,” his voice became quiet.

Tilting his head so that he was gazing at Juliet directly, Artemis opened his mouth as if to say something before he closed it, frowning slightly. Worrying the inside of his cheek, he tried to formulate his next sentence. He almost chuckled at that. It wasn’t often that he was at a loss for words.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hear someone at a restaurant jump a little too quickly to choose the odd-year wine,” he said finally. “Sometimes, I hear what sounds like a touch of smugness in a couple’s tone when they turn down an even-year vintage. It’s possible I’m imagining it, but I do wonder. I wonder now and then if they saw that play — maybe not on that night, maybe not in that theatre — and believed. ”

With that, Artemis sighed, finally placing his teacup gently on the table. By now, the smooth surface of the china was cool to the touch.

Juliet let one of her hands fall from her chin to the table, flexing her fingers in thought. “You know,” she began slowly. “I think I’ve seen a bit of Six Degrees.”

Artemis started, shoulders rising. “Oh?”

She nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I think they made it into a movie a while back. Will Smith was in it.”

Artemis stared at Juliet in silence, blinking owlishly. “Did… did you like it?”

Juliet puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled, thinking for a moment. “Actually,” she began after a moment, locking eyes with Artemis. “I can’t remember.”

That was all it took.

The floodgates were released, and the pair was wracked with laughter.

Artemis couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard that tears had welled in his eyes. He snorted, wiping the wetness on his cheeks away with the palm of his hand.

“You should really be getting to bed,” he said after they’d sobered, crossing his arms on top of the table. Juliet scrunched her face up, stretching in her seat.

“I’m not tired,” she protested.

Artemis cocked his head curiously. “We’ve both been up since sunrise yesterday,” he pointed out. “The skyline is already starting to light up along the water by the cliffs. I know Madame Ko trained you to work during the most extenuating of circumstances, but surely you do need to sleep every now and again.”

“God —you’re such a hypocrite sometimes, you know that?” she prodded his arm with a finger, and he almost winced. “And I wasn’t up since yesterday, okay?” she added, almost as an afterthought.

He rubbed his shoulder. “Apologies.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Of course. Surely you weren’t on the phone with your girlfriend from your old wrestling troupe who is around, oh, six hours or so behind our time zone.”

Juliet’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Shut up, Artemis,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment. “Who even told you about her? Was it Dom?”

Artemis shrugged good-naturedly, refusing to comment. She shot him a withering look, finally dragging her hands away from her face.

“… Practice got out late. Sam forgot that a late practice over there is… early over here.”

“And you picked up the phone when she called anyway? So romantic. What a prophetic name you have, Juliet,” he grinned, and she flushed deeper.

“I’m not letting someone who skulks around in the dark snark about my long-distance relationship,” Juliet crossed her arms, and it was Artemis’ turn to be defensive.

“I’ve explicitly told you already that I was not ‘skulking’.”

She laughed at that, and the light of the nascent sunrise made it seem as though parts of her blond hair were lit up by a fiery reddish-gold, Artemis thought. Some people were meant to be seen in sunlight, others in the moonlight — Juliet was well suited to the warm light of dawn, a light still full of reds, pinks, and oranges.

Juliet must have noticed he’d been staring, as she softened.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you’re always thinking so hard,” she said offhandedly. Artemis ignored the lump forming in his throat.

“I’m afraid ‘thinking hard’, as you put it, is what I’m built to do.”

She locked her gaze on him, frowning.

“You can think as much as you want during the day, Artemis,” she reminded him lightly, finally leaning back. “Holing yourself up until you finally have some big breakthrough can very easily turn into pushing people away, and you know it.”

“Ah,” he winced. “I assume that was a thinly-veiled reference to my sending your brother away to Cancún?”

Whether tired or just exasperated, Juliet ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, genius. Sometimes you’ve gotta slow down a bit so that we can all catch up with you. Especially Dom. The Cancún stuff nearly killed him, you know?”

He winced. “I know. I shouldn’t have used you as a way to manipulate — I shouldn’t have resorted to manipulating your brother at all,” he amended. “I let my paranoid mind get the better of me, as you said.”

“It doesn’t make it okay, but it wasn’t totally your fault,” she shook her head. “That’s what made it hurt more for him, in the end. He left to go to me in Cancún even though he knew something was… off with you because he thought I was in danger. Domovoi came after me because he thought his baby sister was in trouble,” she snorted at that. “But it still took the ‘worst case scenario’ to get him to leave you in the first place.”

She fixed him in her gaze. “Even at your lowest point, you knew on some level that it would take an emergency to get him to abandon you when you were hurt, Artemis. Lurking around the house at night so that you can drive yourself up the wall without anyone telling you to knock it off won’t change that. It’ll just make you feel like shit.”

They sat there in silence.

Artemis looked back at her, properly trying to make eye contact this time. “I am trying to get better, you know,” he said after a moment, almost grimacing when he realized how snarky that sounded. Thankfully, Juliet took it in stride.

“I know.”

He looked away, reaching for his forgotten cup of tea. The china was cool again, he found, turning it around between his hands.

“I’ll… try not to lurk around the house, as you put it so bluntly,” he said, only a tad begrudgingly.

She raised an eyebrow. “You won’t do it again, or you won’t get caught again?”

Artemis paused. “I’ll try not to do it again,” he decided after a moment, surprised to find he was being completely honest. Juliet seemed satisfied at that.

“Cool,” she grinned, beginning to relax once more into her usual easy-going manner.

“I appreciate you talking to me,” he added, tightening his grip on his cup. “You’ve given me much to think about. In a good way,” he smiled.

She beamed at that. Reaching to undo her bun, Juliet shook her head as though she were shaking off rain after coming inside. She must’ve showered before putting it up, as her hair seemed wavier than it usually was, he noted.

“Thanky."

“I suppose I ought to thank Sam for forgetting the extent to which Ireland is ahead of Mexico,” he mused, and Juliet seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

“Yeah, you should — I stole a lot of what she’s had to say when I was making my point about isolating yourself and stuff,” she explained slowly.

“Oh?” he furrowed his brow. She waited a moment, seemingly debating how she was going to continue.

“Please. We grew up in the same house, Artemis. I’ve got pretty similar childhood baggage to what you’re probably leafing through. Parent stuff, growing up too soon stuff, normal 20-something stuff, weird 20-something stuff,” she shrugged. “She doesn’t let me mope, but she also like, sees me, you know?”

He regarded her for a moment, considering what she’d said. “You deserve someone like her,” he remarked. She shook her head.

“Not to drop my slightly- older-adult ‘adult wisdom’ on you,” she leaned forward. “But you’re not with someone because you deserve them or because they deserve you. She makes me laugh, she listens…” she trailed off.

“And so you pick up the phone each time,” he finished, and she grinned, tapping her nose.

“You’re starting to get it. It’s both the connection and commitment. We meet each other where we are, and then we move forward together.”

“Connection and commitment,” he echoed her.

“Connection and commitment and a whole bunch of therapy,” Juliet ticked off a finger for each one. He nodded, resting his chin on his hand.

“And ,” she added, shooting him a look. “Getting to bed at a consistent time.”

He made a face. “Does recovery necessitate giving up all the things that make life worthwhile?”

“My brother has a bunch of WebMD mental health articles printed out all over his room,” she poked him. “And the bits about developing good sleeping habits are all over the pages on the standard treatment for mood disorders. You probably have read the sources the articles cite, though — you don’t get a pass to run yourself into the ground just because you’re smart enough to give a lecture on psychology. Go to bed. The world will still be here when you wake up.”

He was going to say something snide about how he didn’t actually have the luxury of assuming the world would still be there, but he stopped himself. It was too early in the morning to bring up the specters that loomed prominently in his thoughts. Chasing those fears was what had started his spiral in the end, after all.

“Very well. I’d wish you goodnight, but it’s more apt to say good morning at this point,” he ventured, standing up from his seat.

Juliet rose as well, following in suit.

“Thank god ,” she muttered. “Not that talking through feelings isn’t fantastic, but I was just about ready to toss you over my shoulder and haul you upstairs. I’m exhausted .”

Artemis tried not to look too stricken. He has no doubt she was completely serious.

“On a final note,” she sighed, patting down the wrinkles in her nightshirt. “I miss being lovingly suplexed by my wrestler girlfriend,” she complained.

He made a face.

“Come off it — I’m allowed to brag about my jock-centric relationship.”

He grimaced. “You’re a match made in heaven.”

She stuck her tongue out, and he rolled his eyes before starting to make his way over to the stairs. Artemis lingered in the doorway, resting his hand against the smooth frame. “Goodnight, Juliet.”

“Goodnight, Artemis.”

#artemis fowl #my writing #yes im crossposting what of itttt #(also yes the title is inspired by that Sparks song 'my family' or w/e)

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