#can u believe this song was written in less than a half hour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand)

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it.

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge.

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too.

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view.

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”.

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute.

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets.

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance.

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?”

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over.

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae.

looking hot, her message read.

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

2K notes · View notes

jonahlovescoffee · 4 years

Text

Night Changes | J.M.

a/n this fanfic is inspired by one direction’s hit song with the same title. u can also listen to jonah’s cover of the same song here.This is the first complete fanfic I’ve ever written in my entire pathetic life and it has been rotting away in my files app for a while now lol u can see how insecure i was (and am) to put this out here but here it is anyways :’) any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 happy reading!!

summary: the death of his friend’s girlfriend made Jonah realize that nothing in life is permanent, including you.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2136

“We're only getting older, baby; And I've been thinking about it lately; Does it ever drive you crazy; Just how fast the night changes?”

It was yet another ordinary weekend night where Jonah and his band were gathered in the little studio of Daniel’s home, busy composing new music for their upcoming album without a care in the world when Corbyn’s phone rang all of a sudden.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the caller ID on the screen before sliding the answer button to the right and excusing himself from the small room to take the call. No one thought much about it and proceeded with their songwriting process. However, when half an hour passed with Corbyn’s absence, that was when Jonah’s gut feeling told him that something wasn’t right. He brushed that thought off as quick as it entered his mind, trying his best to ignore the fact that he caught a glimpse of the caller ID and it was his girlfriend’s mother calling him, which was undeniably weird. As his roommate and best friend, Jonah could confirm that she had never called Corbyn unless there was an emergency. Heck, the last time she called him was when her car broke down somewhere in downtown LA and Corbyn was the only one she knew who lived close enough to pick her up.

His suspicion was soon proven right when Corbyn barged into the room seconds later with tears running down his cheeks nonstop like a river. Daniel, who was seated the closest to the door jumped up in shock just as Corbyn fell into his arms and started sobbing. The other boys made their ways to them as Daniel patted Corbyn’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked curiously and Jack elbowed him on the arm. “Ow, what was that for?” Zach exclaimed, earning a glare from the other male that clearly said, “Can’t you wait until he stops crying to pry for answers?”

“She killed herself,” Corbyn managed to say between sobs.

“Who?” Daniel asked softly.

“My girlfriend,” the 4 boys’ breaths hitched in utter shock. None of them were expecting this news in forever. Madeline was the most cheerful and optimistic girl Jonah had ever met. She brought sunlight and joy into every room she entered. Were those traits of hers merely a mask to hide all the despair and anxiety underneath? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“My sweetheart killed herself,” Corbyn repeated, mostly to himself with a hint of disbelief in his tone. It was evident that he was still having a hard time letting the fact sink in. “We just went out for dinner last night and now she’s gone. Forever. She didn’t even say goodbye. What should I do? How can I live without her?”

“She should’ve said something. I could’ve done so much to help her instead of letting her die just like that. I saw the scars on her hand last night but I assumed it was nothing serious. It’s my fault. I could’ve stepped in and save her but I didn’t. Why? Why?!” Corbyn screamed and tugged at his hair frustratedly.

Silence ensued, the only sound being Corbyn’s uncontrollable sobs. No one said anything because they knew that no words were powerful enough to comfort him for the time being. The most they could do was be there for him.

Jonah pulled up in your driveway in the middle of the night. He left his house right away after ensuring that Corbyn was sound asleep in his room in fear of his best friend trying anything stupid under the influence of tremendous grief. He knew that you were probably asleep at this hour and he should’ve waited until the morning to pay you a visit but he couldn’t wait any longer. Madeline’s death had made him realise that nothing in life lasts forever and he wanted—no, needed—to be by your side tonight to make up for the past few days of neglecting you because of work.

After some debating in his head whether to wake you up from your deep slumber like an ignorant boyfriend or just turn around and go home, he turned off the engine and rushed out of his car and onto your doorstep before he could change his mind. He used the same key you gave him months ago to unlock the front door and was then greeted by a silent pitch black, empty living room. He locked the door with a soft click behind him before tiptoeing up the stairs and entering your room. He made sure to keep his movements as silent as possible as he knew better than anyone that you were a terribly light sleeper and could be awoken easily by the softest sounds. He took off his shoes and joined you on the king-sized bed, wrapping his arms around your sleeping figure gently to pull you closer to him. He contentedly nuzzled your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo that smelled like cherry blossoms and spring air. It was only then he felt truly at ease, with you perfectly safe and sound in his arms.

As he half expected, you stirred from your sleep, wiggling your body slightly before turning towards him, your arms habitually made their way around his neck even in your half-awake state. You couldnt help but smile when you felt him tightening his arms around you like he was holding onto you for dear life. “Hey, love,” you mumbled groggily, staring up at him with droopy eyelids in your pyjamas that had bunny patterns all over them that you were more than embarrassed to be seen in by anyone but you could care less since Jonah had been your boyfriend long enough to know about your preference for childish pyjamas over mature flimsy nightgowns. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanna see you,” he replied with a smile. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took a moment to drink in your beauty—the crinkle by your eyes when you smile, you supple lips and the freckles on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the windows—all ordinary features of yours that you had never been particularly fond of but were all made perfect in his eyes. He was lucky to have the chance of calling you his, but Madeline’s unexpected death that night made him wonder how long this could last? Without realising, he let his mind drift further into the sea of uncertainties of the future, getting more anxious by the second, especially when he was met with the thought of ever losing you one day.

“Jo, are you okay?” You asked worriedly when you noticed his tense expression. He offered you a meek smile in return. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, but his furrowed brows claimed otherwise.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that face, dear. What’s wrong?” You watched him stay silent for a while as if he was trying to come up with a suitable answer to your question.

”I just...can I stay over tonight with you?” He asked and you let out a hum in agreement, your hands rubbing soothing patterns down his back. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to get rid of the old habit of asking for your permission to spend the night at your place although he knew that you would agree without hesitation every single time he did so. You wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on in his head at that moment but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, so you pushed your questions aside for later.

Both of you stayed like that for who knew how long, unmoving, limbs tangled with each other’s as the cool night breeze wafted into the room through the opened windows. “Madeline died,” he said out of the blue, breaking the silence. Shock was an understatement to what you felt. You couldn’t believe your ears. You weren’t exactly best friends with Madeline but still close enough to hang out together occasionally when both of you were free from your hectic schedules, mainly because Jonah and her used to have a thing for each other back in high school before she got with Corbyn so there had always been a tinge of awkwardness between you two. Yet this news hit you hard all the same.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Jonah answered, his hand stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness, which prompted your tears to resume falling. He let you cry it all out without a single complaint about your tears staining his shirt. “She took her own life.”

“Why?” You sniffled and he shook his head. “No one knows; I guess even the most optimistic person on earth has her invisible demons too,” he said with a sigh.

“Is that the reason why you came here tonight?” You wiped your tears away with the long sleeves of your shirt as you took several deep breaths to recompose yourself, bracing yourself for his answer. Old feelings die hard, that was what you always hear people said, especially your first love. Part of you were scared that Jonah still harboured feelings for her even after all this years and you were nothing but an emotional support rebound tonight.

“Yes and no. I came here after hearing about the news, yes, but I’m not here to mourn about her, for now,” he added the last two words hastily in case you get the wrong idea and thought that he was being rude. You were ashamed for feeling extremely relieved that his answer wasn’t what you expected. “I came here to make up for the past few days of absence and make sure that you’re alright. Have you ever, you know, done that?”

It took you few seconds to get what he meant. “Of course not, Jo. I promise you, I never tried self-harm before, and I never will,” you replied truthfully.

“Thank god,” he sighed with relief and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, “I don’t know what I’d do if you said yes.”

“You know that you’ll be the first one I talk to if I have anything bothering me, right?” You took his hand in yours while staring at him expectantly for an answer but none came. “Jonah, please don’t tell me that you seriously think that I’m someone who resorts to harming myself when the going gets tough?”

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly which earned a sigh from you, a small smile tugging at your lips. You still couldn’t believe how this man in front of you—a confident rising boyband star—could get so worked up over a plain girl like you. He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Today made me question everything I know like how long this relationship can last—how long we’ll get to stay us until the world decides to tear us apart. We always said we’ll be together until the end of times but so did Corbyn and Madeline and look at them now. Madeline just....left without a word to anyone. I know it’s stupid but I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now I’m being such a sap and you probably are disgusted —”

“Jonah, stop. You’re over-thinking everything. I’m not disgusted at you, not even one bit,” you raised a hand to his cheek and traced a thumb over it tenderly, knowing that this simple gesture never failed to soothe his raging emotions. “It’s normal to feel this way, love. But whenever you do, please remember this: there’s nothing to be afraid of because I love you so much, Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, that I can never ever think of hurting myself because I know that that’ll hurt you; I love you so much that I started crying a little less, smiling a little more because I know that no matter how hard my day is, I’ll always have you to come home to.”

You watched as a tear escaped from him. “I don’t know what the future holds but I can promise you this,” you locked your eyes with his, your gaze filled with the utmost love and adoration in contrast with his worried one. “No matter how fast the night changes, it’ll never change me and you.”

“You promise?” His lips curled upwards into a small smile as he leaned in, leaving only an inch between your lips, your breaths mingling with each other’s. As always, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the close proximity as you mirrored his expression with a sweet smile of your own.

“Forever and always,” you breathed and he closed the distance between your lips, sealing the promise.

#corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #wdw #why dont we #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines

92 notes · View notes

eluminium · 3 years

Text

Raid (hehe fanfic)

So i made a Masqueraiders (belongs to @reginaldcopperbottom) fanfic because i could. Yes it’s about 3k words. This one has been a long time in the making and I’m happy i finally got it done!

Please enjoy!

A groan escaped his throat as the car sent vibrations throughout his tired body. This was 100% not his day.

Scratch that, this was 100% not his week.

Although he knew that from the glorious hour he rose from his bed, with soreness traveling down his spine like a waterslide. These past days had been hell for the department, with criminal organizations raiding places left, right, and center. Good sleep was a rarity, and many fellow cops were falling asleep by their desks, only to be woken up by a call to action. And now it was his turn to deal with these crooks.

"The museum of Geology...A prime raiding target for any thief with common sense" mumbled his partner while taking a turn.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock..." was his grumpy response.

"Who do you think it is this time?" his partner joked.

"I bet on the Crownminals, from what we got these thieves are well organized, and that's their brand"

"That makes sense, although could always be Toppats too. Y'know one time-"

As the words kept spilling out of his partner's mouth, his eyes wandered afield, out towards the rearview mirror. A fog gathered in his eyes as the blinking red and blue lights burrowed into him and the world around him faded a bit. Maybe he could get some quality sleep after this. Just gotta take out these criminals and then drop dead like a ragdoll. God, some good sleep was gonna be heavenly, he could almost feel the plushness of his bed calling out to him.

"We're..he...re! ...Hel..lo? yo..u the..re?"

So soft...He could almost pretend...

"Dude! You there?"

"Ugh, yeah yeah I'm here, stop snapping your fingers in my face" he murmured angrily as his feet touched the ground outside the car.

The cold metal of his pistol dug into his hand. The museum and everything around it was engulfed in chaos. He picked up on various orders coming from colleagues, but it didn't seem to contain the animalistic anarchy around them.

A tired breath flowed out of his lips, this was not gonna be simple or coordinated, was it? Welp, better just get a good position and-

The ground rumbled angrily as an explosion tore through the museum. His body swayed violently as screams echoed in his ears.

"Shit! They need backup! C'mon, don't just stand there!"

Before he could even respond, a tight grip had grasped his shirt and his body was traveling faster than his mind. Dear lord, the guy was fast! In through the entrance, through the gunfire, people people people screaming loud loud-

SLAM!

The door's impact echoed in his ears as his mind tried to catch up with whatever the fuck just happened. The sleep deprivation wasn't helping at all.

"What...the HELL...did just happen?"

"Oh, sorry dude, went a bit too fast there!" his partner cheered.

"You could say that again..." he grumbled.

His disapproving stare tore through his partner, who could only respond by scratching the back of his neck with sweat dripping down his face. So awkward he was, with his apologetic smile and soft-looking face- Nope, that was NOT what he was gonna focus on.

They stayed locked in that position, staring at each other stiffly until the sound of someone clearing their throat reached their ears. Both their gazes turned towards this new presence.

"Hello gentlemen, thank you for finally noticing us!" A masked fellow cheered.

His lips remained sealed as his gaze wandered over the man. The man's mask seemed to resemble two shining suns, and a well-kept sun hat covered up his head, even though it was mid-October. His arms, however, were tied up with a rope across his stomach. But even then, a bright and shrewish smile adorned his face.

"Alright, you can stop starring at me now pig, It was way more entertaining to watch you two play gay chicken."

What.

"Agh! N-No, we weren't! I-I'm not even gay!" his partner exclaimed with embarrassment.

Suddenly, a strange protectiveness surged through his veins. His feet moved before his mind did, and he unexpectedly found himself between his partner and these fowl mask people.

"Oh yeah, that kid is definitely gay. Maybe the grump is gay too. Mad respect." the masked man chuckled to someone behind him.

He felt his face morph into a sneer as flustered squeaks clawed their way out of his partner's throat. His eyes turned to the woman behind the masked man, and they narrowed as he noticed more masked people tied up behind them.

This had to be a temporary cell, and these are its inmates. A bunch of weird...mask people.

Wait.

Mask people...Mask thieves? No that couldn't be right. Mask heisters? Maskings? Mask sneakers? Masquerade raiders? No that was stupid no-one in their right mind would choose that-

"Hey, big guy~"

He quickly snapped away from his thoughts with all his attention focused on the masked lady. Her hair was long and slightly curly, with the texture of the darkest night in December. Although, there were spots of color too. A purple crown with a white moon rested on her raven head. She was, factually, a beauty.

But something about that...seductive tone made his skin crawl, and not in a good way. More in an 'i'll pay you to never speak to me like that again' way.

"Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you got fine written all over you~"

Nope. Nope nope nope nope ew NO.

His mind was blank, and he looked like a fish out of water. It felt like disgusting bugs were crawling around inside his skin. Wait, was she wiggling her hips-?

"Dude? You online?"

He snapped back to reality and averted his stare. That was his partner. Right he still had a job to do. Criminals first, thinking about why he felt so uncomfortable with a woman flirting with him later. Luckily for him, a name got caught in his brainwaves.

He turned back towards the masked woman, his face stitched into a more serious expression.

"Masqueraiders correct?" he questioned with a head tilt.

The masked lass took a second to compose herself. Her purple gloved hand reached up and pushed her just as purple star marked mask back into place. It only took a single glance at the cop's "serious" face for her resolve to break, and the laughter burst out of her mouth like a botched dam.

"PffFFFFF HAHAHAHA! Y-Yeah, we are the MasqurAIDHHERERESSS! OH MY GOD, AIEDEN! LOOK AT HIS FACE!"

The gaze of the sun mask fellow, which had settled on his slightly less flustered partner, turned to him. And the cackling flowed out of his mouth not long after.

"ASTRA HE LOOKS LIKE A BABY WITH A BEARD! HOLY FUCK I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! I THOUGHT BEARDS WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU LOOK OLDER NOT YOUNGER! COPS TRY TO MARKET THEMSELVES AS SCARY BUT, I AM POSITIVELY DYING-"

Ouch, that was a hit to the ego. The expression of seriousness faltered a little bit as his gaze turned to the ground. Wow, was he letting these crooks get under his skin?

Yes, he was.

He was tired! What can he say?

The laughter kept echoing in his ears for a bit, really destroying any hubris he had beforehand. The feeling of his partner's worried stare really didn't help. It actually made it more embarrassing. If this was 100% not his day before, now it was 150% not his day. The flow in his brain had practically stopped as he tried to reboot his thinking process. Okay, okay, he's got this. Just gotta-

An abrupt and intense movement in front of his eyes caused the mental reboot to speedrun through the last stages. The click of a gun bounced between the walls of the room, and the mocking laughter ceased abruptly. He couldn't make out the faces of the tied up convicts who mocked him or see them at all, for that matter, because his partner's body was standing protectively between him and the Masqueraiders. Well wasn't this familiar? I guess bros gotta protect bros. He didn't have to see it with his bare eyes to know that there was a gun pointed at the crooks. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Hey, dudes, ladies, and thudes. Didn't we all learn that you should treat the police with an ounce of respect when we were younger?"

His partner's voice was smooth as a bead, yet it still possessed that edge of "dudebro" that was so unique to him. It was such a lovely song to his ears. God, what he would do to hear it more...

His head quickly swung side to side as if he was trying to shake that thought out of his head. No homo, no homo. Right?

The still but tense air that settled after his partners' words broke with a snort and some giggles.

"Oh? Mind filling me in on the joke dude?" his partner quipped while the gun clattered in his hands.

"Don't you hear it lad?" The sun-masked fellow whose name apparently was Aieden responded confidently. Well, confidently when you consider that there was a gun in his face.

"Hear what?"

Now that he mentioned it, there seemed to be footsteps approaching their little hideaway spot. Very quick yet...heavy steps. Oh fuck. Could it be-?!

"Get down-!"

He felt his hand instinctively clutch the sleeve of his partner before they made contact with the hard floor. The seconds ticked on, and on, and on.

CRASH!

"HOLY FUCK-"

The wall by their side crumbled into pieces as an unstoppable force smashed into it. He felt the fabric of his partner's sleeve crack as he dragged them both out of the way of this brute.

"Freeze! This is-"

The gun rattled in his hands, his eyes dilated with fear. Because now he saw this person, this giant, clearly. Holy mother of God.

The man in front of him bore clothes in brilliant green and black. On his face rested a mysterious black mask that only covered one half, and a white spot resembling an eye covered the spot on the mask where his actual eye would be. Emerald green boots, teeth sharp as stalactites...

And this fowl criminal was enormous. He dwarfed everybody else in that little supply closet, probably standing at around 7 feet tall! Jesus Christ, was he dealing with crooks or actual mythical beings?!

Luckily for him though, this gigantic force of nature didn't seem to pay any attention to his intimidation attempt. He seemed more focused on freeing his fellow Masqueraiders from their imprisonment, the leaf color feathers on his hat bouncing side to side.

"There ya' are Ricardo! I'm surprised it took this long!"

He knew he couldn't go up against a beast like that. He'd get pummeled into the ground and lose every tooth he had left. His gaze wandered back to his partner's still face as he tried to think up a plan. A slight panic flowed down his spine when he noticed that his partner wasn't moving, but a quick check revealed that his heartbeat was strong and his soft breathing still there. Must have been knocked out...

He felt his arm reach for a spare curtain that was discarded next to them, and soon his partner rested under it, hidden from view. It was best to keep him secured until he woke up again.

As he observed the big green man whose name was Ricardo do his big green man things, a sudden flash of vibrant red caught his gaze. Someone had rushed past the big hole in the wall, someone clad in crimson. There was no doubt about it. It had to be the Masqueraiders leader himself, Sylvester Wesley. He knew it had to be him. And if he could capture their leader, maybe he could gain an advantage over these masks who mocked him. Although maybe it wasn't Wesley, maybe there was another red-clad mask bastard. But even then, capturing any Masqueraider would be a victory at this point. His pride was on the line after all!

He glanced back at his partner, still unconscious. A seed of doubt grew in his chest, should he really leave his partner like this? After everything that had happened...

Once again, his head bounced side to side. No, he had to do this. He had to apprehend SOMEONE. His partner would be fine, he just had to be! He was hidden, they'd never find him, right? He made his decision. It was time to round up some criminals.

Yet, the feeling of doubt and worry only grew stronger as he sneaked out through the hole made by the giant. Was he doing the right thing? Is this justice? To leave an unconscious man vulnerable? He didn't know, but he pushed those thoughts to the side as he spotted the red-clad criminal again. He seemed to be rounding up the last of their loot, with a big potato sack slung over his shoulder. It was certain now, that was the Masqueraiders leader himself. The black mask and red hat gave it away.

He cleared his throat before once again pointing his weapon at the crook.

"Freeze! Police!"

He met the gaze of the black-masked man and expected to meet a pair of eyes drowned in confusion. Yet all he could spot was a slight hint of surprise and then a kind of...playful mockery. A very familiar sight by now.

"Catch me if you can!" The Masqueraiders leader sang out as he bolted down the hallway with the goods.

He took off after him, uselessly chasing the nimble and quick Wesley. Gunshots echoed off the walls as he unleashed a salvo aimed at the leader, yet all the shots either missed or were reflected by the skilled swordsman's weapon. Every bullet, no matter where he aimed. Time after time after time again, nothing seemed to be hitting this disgustingly fast weasel. Frustration boiled in his guts, come on now! He was so tantalizingly close to regaining his dignity and getting revenge on the Masqueraiders. Yet still NOTHING!

A roar of anger escaped him, his feet moving even faster. All he got back from Wesley was a coy grin and just...the most punchable expression ever.

"Hah! You're way too slow, ever considered hitting the gym?!"

"Shut up!"

"You're not my dad so you can't tell me what to doooo~"

He was gonna crack Wesleys skull open like a watermelon. He was gonna do it, nothing could stop him from squeezing that stupid overconfident head in like a pimple. And he actually seemed to be closing in on him! His gun had run out of ammo by now, but he was hot on his heels now!

Wait, was he deliberately slowing down? Was Wesley running slower to ridicule him even more? Oh, this motherfucker...

He was laser-focused now, not considering where his feet were taking him. So when he ran into an open exhibit, he didn't notice the danger lurking by the stage lights. He just wanted to commit some nice ol' murder on the man who kept taunting him.

"Veronica! Now!"

But that, that stopped him a bit. What? Was Wesley calling for backup? But, there's nobody here. Or is there? Wait who was Veronica? He followed Wesley's gaze and noticed a lady dressed in purple sitting by one of the stage lights. She had a very similar mask to the big green-

He couldn't see any more details of her, or see at all for that matter. A scream clawed its way out of his lungs, his eyes feeling like they were burning. His body swayed from side to side, and his sweaty hands were covering his eyes. The empty gun clattered to the floor. That bitch, she'd used the stage light like a flashbang! The force against his face provided by his hands harshened, trying to block out as much as he could.

"Oh, how the turntables turn!"

He felt Wesley's presence next to him, teasing him. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to beat his ass, but he couldn't get his hands off his face without causing worse pain. An angry gurgle was what he gave in response.

"Aw, how cute. Did you really think you could catch the great Sylvester Wesley? One of the sneakiest sneakers who have ever sneaked? With your rancid vibes? Don't make me laugh! Or well, I'm already laughing, so jokes on you!" Ugh, that dumb tone...

"I can't believe you managed- What Veronica? ...Aw come on can't I just mess with him a little more? Yeah yeah, I know there's probably- Veronica can you make a little exception- OKAY okay FINE I'll knock him out and we'll leave with the loot. You owe me a pop tart now."

"Toooo deee looo turtle, have fun in dreamland!"

Before he could even fight back, something hard impacted the side of his head. He was swallowed up by the sweet release of unconsciousness, something he'd been craving all day. The last thing he knew was the cold feel of the floor, and the faint sound of footsteps burrowing into his ear.

Darkness...A rumbling noise of somebody talking to him...He slowly felt himself returning to the land of the awake, a killer pain pounding in his head. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is his partner with a few bandages tied around his head. He talked, and talked, and talked. He looked kinda cute like this, hair all fluffed up and features so soft. But he's talking too fast for him to pick anything up.

Although all those thoughts disappear when he notices something on his stomach. His hand closes around the object, his partner's worried squawks becoming nothing but background noise. It was a black velvet mask.

He couldn't take his gaze off it, it was locked to this replica of Wesley's famous mask. As his partner finally got a grip on him and started carrying him out of the destroyed museum, there was only one thought on his mind.

"I'll get that bastard, I'll throw him behind bars myself."

#the masqueraiders #henry stickmin #henry stickmin fanfaction #sylvester wesley #veronica johanna #ricardo rich #cw gun mention #cw police #my writing #fanfic #fanfaction #3k words #thsc #the henry stickmin collection #oh wow this one took a while #jeez #i hope its good

18 notes · View notes

greycappedjester · 3 years

Note

"If ATFO isn’t up by the end of the month, feel free to ask me for an already written scene from one-shot from that universe." is the offer still open?

Gotcha! Sorry this is late 😬

Here is young Jason's POV. It's from right after Year 4 so before Tim and right after Jason was formally adopted (still in training to be Robin)

Here's the first eight pages

-------

Year 4.5: The Vacation

Alright, so here’s the thing.

Jason is a city boy. He grew up in a city. It was Gotham so it was a shit city and the part that he lived in even shittier; but, it was, without question, a city. And one where he had lived the entire fourteen years of his somewhat depressing life. Jason was familiar with said city.

So, Jason is decidedly not familiar with the so-called “great” outdoors. Fuck, he’s pretty sure the closest he’s come to nature is fights with Poison Ivy.

All of which is just too fricking bad because Jason also happens to be the recently adopted brother of Dick Grayson, who has for some unimaginable reason decided camping is the best way to spend a vacation.

And Jason is coming along.

Why? Because apparently Dick’s first thought had been this was a great time for brotherly bonding. Okay, actually his first was that it was perfect for Jason’s birthday but Jason had flat out refused and Dick moved it to the week after.

So, now, the newly fourteen year old is watching as Dick somehow crams a tent, sleeping bags, and camping gear into one of the Wayne’s very fancy and very compact sports cars.

Jason looks back wistfully to the manor door.

It’s probably not too late to back out.

But, as lame as it most definitely sounds, this camping trip actually seems really important to Dick. Like important enough to give Donna his Titans duties for a few days and ask Roy to be back up for Barbara in Gotham if she needed it. Plus, more terrifying, getting Barbara to agree to that.

And, as much as he refused to say it aloud, Jason could privately admit that Dick Grayson may have a very large part in why his recently somewhat depressing life is a now a lot less depressing.

Whatever. So, Jason might not actually think it’s too terrible to spend a few days with his older brother. Even with the camping.

That still doesn’t explain the other part.

“Why can’t we bring our uniforms again,” Jason complains, crossing his arms.

Dick doesn’t stop in his work to get the trunk shut. “Because that would mean we’re working and I’ve been informed by both Raquel and Zatanna that working vacations don’t actually count as vacations.” The trunk pops back open and Dick’s head disappears inside. “Besides, we won’t need them where we’re going.”

“Yeah, cause that doesn’t sound ominous,” Jason mutters under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Dick emerges and the trunk finally closes with only a slight creak of protest. “Ha, there! What did I tell you? Circus performers always know the best packing tips.”

Jason is reluctantly somewhat impressed.

“Come on, get in! We’ve gotta get to the grounds while there’s still light to set up the tent.”

Jason slumps into the passenger seat. “Are you sure this isn’t like you stealthily training me in advanced wilderness survival or something?”

“It’s a vacation, Jason,” Dick insists, starting the car and backing down the drive way. “Believe me, if it was training, I’d pick a lot trickier place than twenty minutes out of Gotham city limits.”

Crap, if it was training, Jason would at least know it sucked for a reason. Doing it for fun makes it even worse.

“You know you’re an heir to like billions of dollars, right?”

“We’re the heirs,” Dick corrects because of course, he does.

Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying if you wanted nature, we could go to like the Bahamas or the Galapagos or even just buy an island if that’s what you really wanted.”

“We don’t need an island.”

“Sure, we do. We could even use it as a secret prison for supervillains when we’re done. It would be great!”

Dick’s grinning, checking briefly before pulling into Gotham traffic. “Secret island prison bases definitely fall a bit too far into the supervillian category, Jay. They'll sue us for trademark infringement.”

“Still beats camping.”

“Camping’s fun!” Dick laughs. “Trust me. Millions of people do it every year. They can’t all be wrong.”

Per usual, Jason is far less trusting of the populace’s intelligence than Dick is.

As if to spite his skepticism, the hour or so drive out to the woods doesn’t go so bad. Jason commandeers the radio so they’re listening to a good classic rock station instead of being subjected to the weird mix of folk songs and pop music that Dick likes. The dark buildings and usual smog of Gotham starts to fade out around the forty minute mark, somewhere between one of Dick’s Titans stories and Jason complaining about a plot thread in the last book he read.

The drive is nice. Peaceful, even.

You know like most horror movies start.

“We’re here!”

Jason eyes the stretch of trees for any kind of sign or even a distinguishing feature. There’s nothing.

“Dick, this is definitely not a campsite.”

“It’s a few miles off,” Dick explains, dropping a bag in Jason’s arms. “I wanted to avoid the usual campgrounds in case the tabloid reporters found us. Don’t worry, I checked with the owner. No one’s used this stretch in years.”

Jason thinks there’s probably a reason for that since there’s not one hint of a trail in sight.

“Where are we even going to set up a tent?”

“Not sure,” Dick says way too cheerfully. “Finding a spot’s part of the fun!”

Jason gives him a look.

Dick rolls his eyes. “Relax, Jay. The owner told me there’s a stream about half a mile in. We’ll set up camp there.”

Jason still gives a token grumble just because.

By the time night rolls around, they do manage to find a camping spot, set up the tent, and Dick even starts up a small fire right in the middle of the campsite.

If pushed, Jason would admit the entire thing is a bit picturesque.

He bites down on his hot dog as Dick digs through the rest of their stuff.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you!” Dick pulls something out of the bag. “Look, I brought stuff to make s'mores!”

“Cool, hand them over” Jason grabs for the bag of marshmallows only for Dick to pull them away.

“Not yet, they’re for our last day. Gotta ration out the food.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Why not bring enough for every night?”

“Cause then it’s less special,” Dick answers sagely. “Think about it like a prize for surviving camping.”

Because Jason is the generous sort, he doesn’t even make a crack about “surviving”.

“So, okay, let’s say I buy that camping is a vacation,” he says instead between bites.

“It is a vacation.”

“Yeah, fine, sure. Real question though, why are we taking a vacation?” He waves a hand. “What ever happened to ‘crime never sleeps’ and everything?”

“I’ve never said that!”

“You said it to Babs last week!”

“That was so she’d help me run the Poison Ivy samples! That doesn’t count! She didn’t even believe me!”

“Definitely counts!”

Dick rolls his eyes. “You know most kids don’t need a reason to go on vacation before school starts.”

“So, that’s what this is,” Jason accuses. “This is for you! You wanted a vacation before college!”

Dick turns his face down to poke at the fire. “I’m not going to college...not this year anyway.”

Jason frowns. “I thought you got accepted to Gotham U. Shit, I know you did. Alfred still has the letter hanging on the fridge.”

Dick shrugs. “I’m going to turn it down. There’s too much going on right now. Gotham. The Titans. I’ve gotta start sitting in at the Wayne Enterprise meetings soon, too. I don’t have time for classes.”

“Pretty sure, the classes would help with the Wayne Enterprise crap,” Jason says. “And you know Roy and Donna can help with the Titans and Babs and I can cover more in Gotham if--”

“Jay, it’s fine,” Dick cuts him off. “I need to choose what to focus on and it just can’t be college right now. It’s okay.”

Jason wants to argue more but then Dick’s continuing

“And, hey, I know camping’s not exactly your thing; but, I’m glad you decided to come anyway.” Dick gives him a blinding grin. “You deserve to do some normal summer stuff after all the Robin training. And I’m glad I get to spend some time with my favorite little brother.

Jason glares, ignoring the way his cheeks have gone warm. “Shut up, I’m your only brother. And you know I hate it when you say stuff like that.”

“No, you don’t,” Dick says, shit eating grin in place.

Jason flings the bag of hot dog buns at him.

He catches it, still grinning. The asshole.

-----

Something that’s always jarring but becomes really fucking obvious once he thinks about it is the fact that Dick gets nightmares.

Of course, he does. How could he not? Jason’s doesn’t know why he never expects it.

It’s not even loud nightmares with like screaming and flailing arms and shit. It’s just these short, sharp little gasps as his body goes entirely too stiff and face twists in pain. Sometimes, Jason thinks that’s worse than screaming.

Jason shifts in his sleeping bag, turning to face the top of the tent. He briefly contemplates waking Dick up; but, he knows from experience, it won’t help much. Better to let him get some rest until the nightmare goes away on its own.

Only problem is that Jason still can’t fall asleep. It’s kind of funny. He’s never really thought of himself as a picky sleeper before. Fuck knows he’s slept on way too many of Gotham’s mold infested roofs back when his dad was on parole. But, there’s something about the cold feeling of hard dirt that he swears he can feel even under the layers of sleeping bag and tent.

Camping sucks.

Screw it. Jason’s not just going to lay here all night. Least he can do is get up and explore around the campsite so he can have a better idea of whatever “fun” activities he’s sure Dick has planned for tomorrow.

He slips out of the tent without waking up Dick--which actually does serve as a fairly good challenge for his new Robin training--and heads into the woods, careful to keep note of how far away he goes from camp. He feels ridiculously like he should have bread crumbs or some other kind of fairy tale stuff to track his way through the forest.

He swears if he survived living in Crime Alley, Black Mask, and a freaking explosion just to get lost and die in the woods, he’s going to haunt Dick forever. Jason the Unfriendly Ghost.

He gets to the stream that he and Dick found earlier so at least he’s not that lost.

SNAP!

Jason’s head whips around in the direction of the noise.

Nothing.

He lets out a long breath. Dumb, of course, it’s nothing. It’s the forest. Forests make weird noises. It’s reason #357 why they’re terrible.

SNAP!

Okay...that definitely sounded like something big….but, maybe it’s something normal like a tree branch snapping or--

Snap!...Snap!...Snap!

That’s footsteps.

Jason moves back into the tree line, crouching down until he’s covered in the darkness of the bushes. His hands run over the ground, trying to find anything even remotely useful other than a slightly pointy stick.

Snap!...Snap!

Shit, he really is going to die here, isn’t he? In this stupid forest before he even gets to go out as Robin. Of all the dumb fucking--

Snap!...snap!...snap...snap.

The footsteps are getting further away. Echoing deeper and deeper into the forest on the other side of the stream.

snap...snap...snap…

Jason listens, in slight amazement, as the sounds slowly fade off into the distance until they finally disappear. Slowly, Jason counts in his mind to sixty, then a hundred and twenty, then two hundred.

On three hundred, he bolts--tearing through the forest in the direction of the camp until he finally catches sight of the obnoxiously bright yellow of the tent Dick bought, shining in front of him like a heavenly beacon.

He tears through the opening, breathing heavily, just a half a second before there’s an arm jammed hard against his neck.

“Jay?”

The pressure disappears and then Dick’s looking down at him with wide eyes and a slight blush. “Sorry about that. Was surprised. What’s wrong?”

Jason’s heart rate’s finally slowing down. And here in the safety of the tent, in the face of Dick’s patented concerned face, admitting to getting freaked out by noises in the woods seems beyond stupid.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “Just thought I heard something?”

“Heard something?”

“Yeah, like footsteps.”

Dick frowns. “We’re on private camp land. There shouldn’t be anyone around here. You sure?”

Jason shakes his head, face feeling hot, as he sits back down on his sleeping bag. “No. Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it was probably nothing. Maybe it’s just a mountain lion that’s gonna eat us in our sleep.”

Dick pats his shoulder. “Mountain lions don’t really live in this region, Jay.”

Jason rolls his eyes before turning over pointedly to try to get some more sleep.

“It’s bears you need to worry about.”

#atfo

5 notes · View notes

i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years

Text

The Leppard Albums: A Summary

(inspired by Every Beatles Album)

Happy Saturday night everyone

The Def Leppard EP

Joe is 19 and just wants to ride a motorcycle okay

Groupie fantasy

Zeppelin lyrics meet Rush with an underappreciated bass line

On Though the Night

IT'S!!! ROCK!!! N ROLL!!! BABEY!!!

Joe is 20 and just really doesn't wanna work in a factory anymore okay

pls D; girl D; stop D; hiding D; your D; pain!!

another... groupie fantasy... I think? ...???

Leppard in Space

Joe is 20 and just wants to write something edgy okay leave him alone

STEVE 👏👏👏 FUCKING 👏👏👏 CLARK!!!! 👏👏🔥👏🔥👏👌👌

the original groupie fantasy but it's been re-recorded

girl?? make up?? your mind???

let's be mysteriously edgy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Zeppelin lyrics meets Rush but it's been re-recorded (but don't worry they still kept the underappreciated bass line)

High N Dry

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it

we have Mutt Lange now and this is the song that proves it

drONK TIEM

betcha didn't think we could write a ballad, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

STÊVË!!!!! 👏👏👏👏 FÜCKÎÑ!!!!!! 👏👏👏👏👏 C L Ã R K!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥👏👌👌🤙👏👌🔥👌🎉🎉

underappreciated and that's all there is to it

noooo don't go you're too mysterious and sexy hahhaha

oh god Dx oh god no Dx we don't sound like this anymore we swear Dx

betcha thought we stopped writing Beowulf-esque pop songs didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

🚫🚫⛔👎🚫🙅‍♂️👎🚫⛔🙅‍♂️⛔ *Joe tearing his throat up for 2 solid minutes*

Pyromania

IT'S ROCK!!!!!! N ROLL!!!! BABEY!!!!!!!1!!!!1!!1!! AGAIN!!!!! 😆😆😆

the Classic Rock Fandom™ in a nutshell 😓

INTRODUCING PHIL 👌👌👌 FUCKING👏👏 COLLEN 🔥🔥🔥

betcha thought we abandoned the idea of doing a ballad didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Joe's back at it again with the edgy songs and is getting a lot better at it too

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ∆ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gunter 🙃 Glieben 🙃 Glauchen 🙃 Globen

the most underappreciated song on this whole entire fucking list sorry I don't make the rules

Alright, WHO in this band wants to be in a porno >:C

Joe's back at it yet again with the edgy songs but it's even BETTER this time

Hysteria

Girls Girls Girls ALL WOMEN ARE QUEENS ANAKIN

🎸we!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!!! and african drum rhythms!!!!!!!!!🥁

we're not furries we swear we're just kinky D: also fuck you DJs here's some false endings

we haven't made a ballad that HURTS yet so here we go (with an underappreciated bass line)

the song that invented "( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)" (AKA when you cram for a test the minute before and end up getting 100%)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

S T E V E 😭👏👏 F U C K I N 😭😭😭 C L A R K 👏👏👏😭👏😭

nooo don't shoot me you're too kinky hahaha

a song about rioting and being #punk, but the only crime the man singing it has ever committed was getting a speeding ticket when he was 19/20

oh. oh shit. oh god. holy shi- I can't believe... ...we just accidentally made the most perfect song to ever exist :o like seriously- people are achieving nirvana as we speak I'm not joking I think we went too far with the perfection this time guys

THIS SONG IS ABOUT S E X AND WE AIN'T BEING SHY ABOUT IT EITHER LET'S FUCKIN GO BABE-

Don't 👏 give 👏 me 👏 love 👏

Adrenalize

gkKLglldlflhlADKSLALLFLSS 😆😆😆

I fucking love my wife uWu

fkKMglgllsLLslgflephpGLDLPT 😆(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)😆

We're just gonna get extremely romantic and passionate for 4 minutes and 3 seconds if that's alright with you (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

this album was the most painful thing any of us have ever had to do, so here's the most serious song we've ever done to date. Steve ✊ Fucking ✊ Clark ✊ -n-

now that our mental breakdown is over, we're gonna get extremely passionate and romantic again but for a lil longer this time aiight 🤙

one of us has a protection/ownership kink but we're not gonna tell you who

you know what this album needs? a little bit more pain

we're layin down the line (and by that we mean we want sex)

we're layin down the line pt.2 (we still want sex btw)

Retro Active

Beowulf songs are back babey 🤙

I'll say that again if I have to^

we!!! still!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!! we even covered something to prove it!!!!!!

Joe has now officially mastered ballads

I fucking love my wife part 2: she's a badass top

While Joe was off mastering ballads, Phil studied the blade

We covered something else bc again!!! we fucking!!! love!!! glam!!!

We rewrote Joe's motorcycle song bc we now realize it was cringe af (and it was an excuse for Joe to talk to Ian Hunter so that made him happy)

Joe has now officially mastered edgy/serious songs

it's a total bop but oh god. No. Please. No. Oh God. No. Don't. Please. No. Pls. No. Oh god. Don't.

This should've been on Adrenalize and you can Fight Me On That

Phil studies the blade (electric version)

Joe masters ballads (electric version)

Vault (there's only one new song on here so that's all I'm doing)

babe nooooo D';

Slang

Epic edgelords part 1

Epic edgelords part 2: Phil wrote it this time

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 2: Electric Bugaloo

soft breakdown :'c

hOT DOGGITY DAMN JOE'S VOICE HOLY HELL TAKE ME N- *clears throat* I mean introducing Vivian Campbell :3 aND THERE'S A BASS SOLO MMMM 🤤🤤👌 THIS SONG IS JUST SEXY FUCKIN LIFT ME UP AND-

Phil's marriage isn't going too well

in fact, no one's marriages are going too well

severely underrated bop

We're still not over Steve's death and we never will be :c

Joe makes edgy ballads his bitch yet again 👏👏

severely underrated banger 🔥🔥🔥

Euphoria

wE STILL MAKE FAST BOPS IN CASE YOU FORGOT 🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘

Holy shit I didn't know Joe could hit a note that high

The 90s sucked for us but we'rE STILL HERE BICH 🖕

Can we pls give Sav more songwriting space on albums thx 😭💗

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 3: Even Sluttier This Time 😏

totally different from everything we've ever done and WE 👏 MADE IT 👏 OUR 👏 EDGY 👏 BITCH

uwu but it's sad so it's actually umu

partying like it's 1999- oh wait, it actually is 1999

*hugs Viv and scREEEEEEEEAAAMMS*

Phil studied the blade and attacks you with it

*gets escorted into the back of a police car* IM GUILTY!! I'M GUILTY!!! I'M NOT INNOCENT!!! 😫😫😫

whatever edginess we couldn't fit into Paper Sun we put into this song instead

we're entering the new millennium as Kings and there's nothing you can do about it 👑🖕

X (Ten)

Stand on a balcony at sunset when you listen to this one

(insert Vizzini saying "INCONCEIVABLE" here)

the big UwU

I got ghosted and it’s actually a lot more dark and depressing than I thought also I wish I was never awake

soft and edgy and sad acoustic dads

F-U-C-K SPELLS F- I mean L-O-V-E spells love uWu

babe nOOOooO I'm sorry I suck so much DD;

this sounds like out if Work It Out and Day After Day had a kid

we're gonna have a Funky Good Time whether you like it or not 😎

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2

we can't decide if we want this album to be edgy or uwu so we're gonna make it both

the same passion as Tonight but less sexy and more (you guessed it) uwu

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2 P A R T 2

Betcha thought our emo phase was over didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yeah!

bops have been and will ALWAYS be something we have mastered- even if the song we're playing isn't ours

SAV'S TIME TO SHINE

betcha thought we couldn't cover a Blondie song, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Phil's just getting nostalgic about London it's fine 👍

don't worry joe's still sCREAMIN

in which we make this song a million times better than the original

WE LOVE ROXY MUSIC SO MUCH WE CANTEXPLAINWEJUSTLOVEHEMRMFLGPHPH

we're letting Joe have his moment ok just let him have this 👨‍🎤

yeah we like Free- so whAT??

okay NOW we're letting Joe have his real moment- he's been waiting for this moment ever since he was like 12 okay just. let him. have this just. this one time. pls.

in which we confuse literally everyone by making them think this is a song that we wrote

we just need ONE more bop, okay? Just ONE more we swear then we'll stop being fanboys (for now...)

we'll be right back, it's Bow Down To Thin Lizzy Hour

*Phil tearing up his throat for 4 and a half solid minutes*

Songs From The Sparkle Lounge

this one's actually kinda dark and heavy? :o

honky tonk time 🤠🤙

FINALLY ONE OF SAV'S SONGS IS THE MOST POPULAR SONG OFF AN ALBUM 🙏🙏🙏🙏😩

FINALLY WE HAVE MORE SAV MATERIAL I LOVE IT SM ;∆; !!!!

Phil's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

it's time for one (1) badass religious song and if you don't like it then you can Fuck Off kindly 🙃

This whole album is "Songs That Were Written By Phil and Viv and Sav" heaven

I think sometimes people forget that we, even as a band, are fans of the Classic Rock Fandom™ too, and we feel the same pain as the other fans :'^)🤙

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album part 2

Viv's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

Mirror Ball (bonus tracks)

we grabbed fate by the balls and screamed fUCK YOU 🖕🖕

We are still Kings™ in case anyone was wondering 👑🖕

✨PHIL BELIEVES!!!! IN!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!! AND!!!!!!!!!! BELIEVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!✨

Def Leppard (Self Titled 2015)

Is this song about playing a live show? Probably. Is it also about having a fight? Is it also about angry sex? The world may never know.

Okay this one just absolutely SLAPS, periodt.

bootleg Another One Bites The Dust

*SOBBING* THEY'RE ALL SINGING LEAD I'M-

being badass, That's The Power Of Love

don't worry, we still know how to be Poetically Edgy

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm *bump bump* hooked on a feeeeling

I've Got a Spiritual Romantic Boner

Can't Keep Away From The Flame edginess gets crossed with some Zeppelin charm and badassery

someone in this band is fucking piSSED 😠😠😠😠

we're gonna @ someone tonight fellas

sAV OH MY GOD BABYYYYY 😰😰😭😭😭😭 DO YOU NEED A HUG

what if we tried to cross newer Metallica with Nickelback 🤔

what if we turned this into We All Need Christmas three years from now... 🤔

Bonus: Personal Jesus/We All Need Christmas

Viv really wanted to cover ABBA but everyone said no so he settled for cowboy goth™ instead

What better man to write a warm and fuzzy Christmas song than the warm and fuzziest man alive (Sav)

106 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

One Direction (To Your Heart), 2/6 (Methessence) - Cheetah

Summary: Jaida will share two tattoos with her soulmate: one will be her own first tattoo, whilst the other will be theirs. And if there’s anything Jaida knows about her soulmate, it’s that they love One Direction - why else would it be written out on her skin?

What Jaida doesn’t expect, though, is that she’ll meet her soulmate during the final week of preparation for her first big fashion show, or that it’ll be the bubbly, blue-haired artist she’s working with.

Maybe it’s time she learned to embrace the unexpected. And One Direction.

Chapter Summary: Jaida meets Crystal, and finally gets acquainted with One Direction.

A/N: The song in this chapter is “Kiss You” by One Direction. I will admit that writing this fic has made me appreciate them a lot more than I used to lol

Thank you so much to @dollalpaca for betaing!

Ao3 || my blog

Meeting

At first, all Jaida sees is blue.

Her gaze swims in bright necklaces and denim, in cobalt hair rippling with colour like the ocean on a summer’s day. And then she meets brown eyes as wild and untameable as the seaside cliffs, shimmering like they’ve been touched by the moon. Jaida feels her breath catch in her throat.

“I’m Crystal.” The stranger extends her hand for Jaida to shake, and the sapphire bracelets adorning her wrists glimmer in the white light of the lobby. “Crystal Methyd. I’m the assistant events coordinator - I was told we’d be working together?”

“You’d be right,” Jaida greets her with a warm smile as she shakes her hand. Crystal’s grip is soft but firm, matching the silent confidence in her umber eyes.

Today is the first of many days they’ll be working together, doing odd jobs to ensure this fashion show runs smoothly. It’s Jaida’s first show with the Del Rio brand — in fact, it’s her first big fashion show in general — and she wants nothing more than for it to go well. She started working with Bianca shortly after her graduation, when the brand was nothing more than a handful of people with sewing machines and a dream. Now, it’s expanded into so much more, and Jaida is desperate to prove that she’s really, truly meant to be here.

As she stands opposite Crystal’s sunny smile, Bianca’s words from earlier in the morning ring in her head: “Here’s your schedule, Hall. You’re working with some girl who sounds like she might be a drug addict.”

She hopes beyond hope that Bianca is wrong. Nothing is going to ruin this for her, least of all the crazy assistant of the events coordinator.

And upon first glance, Crystal is as wild as her name suggests, with her summer-sky hair and eclectic sense of style. But there is such excitement in her smile and her brilliant eyes that Jaida can’t help but be immediately endeared, the worry dissipating slightly in her chest.

“So,” Crystal says, drawing out the syllable as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “Hair and makeup artists, yeah? You ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Jaida tucks her clipboard into her purse, even though she’s perused her schedule enough times that she’s sure she’s memorised it by now, and follows Crystal to her car.

They listen to One Direction for the entire drive.

At first, Jaida doesn’t realise what she’s listening to - she’s only aware that it’s some generic pop song that she’s probably heard before and couldn’t be bothered remembering. Crystal hums along, slightly off-key and warbly, but Jaida doesn’t mind.

“You okay with this music?” Crystal asks, midway through the song, as though only just realising Jaida might not agree with her taste in music.

“Yeah, I’m chill.” Jaida doesn’t actually like it, but she isn’t about to start a debate about the validity of modern pop. Besides, Crystal seems happy - and equally at ease with their lack of small talk - and Jaida is content with that.

“So tell me, girl, if everytime we to-o-ouch, you get this kinda ru-u-ush,” Crystal sings aloud while they’re waiting at a red light. “God, I love this song.”

“It’s not bad,” Jaida admits begrudgingly, stifling a smile when Crystal shoots her a look of abject horror.

“‘Not bad?’ This is art!”

“Naw, child, this ain’t it.”

Okay, so maybe she was wrong about starting a debate.

“No one knows how to appreciate One Direction anymore,” Crystal laments, as the lights change and she returns her focus to the road.

One Direction. Jaida’s mind can’t help but wander in the direction of her mysterious soulmate. It’s been four years since the night her soul tattoo appeared, and there’s still no sign of them. It doesn’t worry her like it used to; she’s decided to let fate run its course, and in the meantime, she does what she pleases. Now, seeing the mark on her skin has become routine. She’s grown accustomed to its presence the same way she got used to seeing herself with earrings after she got her ears pierced.

Soon enough, they’re arriving at the hairstylist’s studio, its walls lined with wigs and photographs of models with perfect hair. Crystal is like a bird, bright and breezy, hopping through the room with an enthusiasm that seems to radiate from all of her features. For a moment, Jaida wonders whether or not her own posture is too stiff, too poised, and has to remind herself that she’s a professional, here on business. So is Crystal, but the word professional seems to carry a different meaning for her.

And, as it turns out, any worries Jaida had about Crystal are unfounded. She is competent - incredibly so, in fact. The Crystal she sees in the stylist’s office is one who knows what she’s doing; who uses her wacky style and charm to her advantage, who gets her point across clearly and concisely. All Jaida needs to do is make sure Bianca’s vision is followed.

In a few hours, everything is sorted out, and the meeting is over faster than Jaida could have anticipated. The drive back passes in much the same fashion as the drive over: as soon as Crystal turns the key in the ignition, the same poppy, upbeat love songs begin pounding through the car. Crystal sings along shamelessly.

And again, all they seem to be listening to is One Direction.

“Do you listen to anything other than this stuff, child?”

“Well, yes,” Crystal says, “but I’m kind of obsessively listening to my One Direction playlist right now. I can change it, if you want.” She doesn’t sound offended, and Jaida likes that about her. She’s easy to get along with, and in the few short snippets of conversation they’ve had, Crystal has taken any teasing comment with an easygoing laugh and a toss of her ocean-blue hair.

“One Direction is fine,” Jaida decides after a moment. She can’t help but think of her soulmate, and whether or not they, too, have a One Direction playlist that they listen to on repeat. She might as well take this opportunity to get acquainted with their favourite band. “I just wanted to make sure you’ve got more taste than this.”

“Haters gonna hate,” Crystal replies breezily, grinning at Jaida in the rearview mirror, and Jaida grins right back.

Jaida is unusually nervous.

She swirls the words on her tongue — three simple words — and wonders at her own anxiety. She isn’t usually like this, and she’d hardly expect Crystal of all people to be the reason for it.

She bites the bullet as Crystal locks her car.

“You want lunch?” Jaida asks cordially.

Crystal chews on her bottom lip, silent, and for a moment, Jaida wonders what in the world she’s done wrong. Do event coordinators have something against eating lunch with their coworkers? Maybe it’s something specific to Crystal’s team, or maybe Crystal just doesn’t like her.

“I mean, I would,” Crystal says eventually, her voice high-pitched and sheepish. “But I promised I’d hang out with Widow on my break, so… I can’t.”

Jaida has no idea who Widow is, and she doesn’t bother asking. She isn’t sure whether or not she wants to know why all the people she’s hearing about today have such strange names.

“It’s cool,” she says instead. “I’ll see you after.”

“See you then!”

They part ways in the lobby. Jaida finds Nicky in her dressing room, saying something in French to her phone, adding a slow emphasis to every syllable as though she is talking to a small child. A moment later, a voice parrots it back through the phone, and Nicky visibly winces.

“We’ll work on it,” she promises. Her gaze snaps up when Jaida snickers, and Jaida takes her glare as an invitation to sit down right beside her.

“Hey, bitches,” Jaida says, grinning when she peers at the phone and sees Jackie’s pixelated face looking back. “How’re y’all going on this fine day?”

“Damn, something’s got you in a good mood,” Nicky comments wryly, but her cold facade is broken by the slight quirk of her lips. “Did that meth girl give you a joint or something?”

“I don’t smoke at work, you dumbass,” Jaida chides her playfully as Jackie laughs. “Also, her name is Crystal, and she is so fucking good at her job.”

Nicky raises a playful eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Don’t give me that look, bitch. Didn’t you realise I’m back half an hour early?”

“Nope.”

“You guys, I’m so confused,” Jackie cuts in. “Since when was there a meth girl?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Nicky exclaims. She’d been there when Jaida had received her schedule, and had gawked right along with her when they saw Crystal’s name. “Just this chick Jaida’s working with for the next week. What was her full name again, Jaida? Crystal Meth?”

“Crystal Methyd,” Jaida corrects, as Jackie’s hand flies to her face in a feeble attempt to maintain her composure. Jaida can’t help but wonder if she’d react the same if she met Crystal in person; now that Jaida can put a face — and a personality — to the name, it seems less outlandish and more… quirky.

“So? What’s she like? Apart from being ‘so fucking good at her job?’” Nicky asks, her eyes gleaming with a strange sort of curiosity. “Is she as crazy as you thought?”

“And then some,” Jaida laughs. “But she’s, like, a fun crazy. It’s cool. She looks like a lollipop.”

Nicky nods slowly. “Please elaborate.”

“Blue hair, a fuck ton of necklaces… the whole shebang,” Jaida says. She’s still stunned at how Crystal doesn’t get sick of the constant rattling of the beads. “Like, you know those big ass lollipops we had as kids? The swirly rainbow ones? Imagine one of those, but blue. That’s Crystal.”

Nicky nearly chokes on her lunch.

“That is the single most amazing thing I have ever heard,” she proclaims, mouth still half full. “Calling someone a ‘big ass lollipop’. Have I told you I love you, Jaida?”

“Hey!” Jackie whines, pretending to be wounded by the statement. “I thought your heart belonged to me, Miss Doll.”

“You can share,” Nicky replies haughtily, sticking her tongue out at Jackie.

“No fair.”

“Deal with it.”

Jaida laughs, already all too familiar with Nicky and Jackie’s playful banter. They might bicker like an old married couple, but Jaida always sees how Nicky rolls her sleeves up when she’s nervous, sees how she’ll immediately relax as she gazes at her lilac flowers.

Jaida has known Nicky since they were kids, and she has never seen anyone make her smile like Jackie does.

“Well,” Jaida says, “unfortunately for you, child, my heart will soon belong to an avid One Direction fan. Sorry ’bout it.”

Soon, she thinks, as soon as the words have left her lips. How soon? It’s such a loose term. Soon could be twenty years, or it could be tomorrow. Fate has left her nothing but a string of words to follow, and she has given nothing back - save for the Arabic tattoo, her skin is empty.

“Girl, if they were still a thing, I would sit through an entire concert for you to find your soulmate,” Nicky promises. “And that’s no small deal, Jaida - that’s ten years off of my life, just for you.”

“Luckily for you they’re still no longer a thing,” Jackie remarks.

Jaida chuckles. “Actually, I listened to some One Direction today, in the car. Crystal played it non-stop.”

“Maybe Crystal is your soulmate!” Nicky gasps, bolting upright in her seat.

“Bitch! She’s my coworker!” Jaida can’t help but wrinkle her nose - Crystal is nice, but soulmates is taking it a bit too far.

“That’s how all the best love stories start, you know!”

“Naw, child, I doubt it. We’re too different.”

“Since when has that stopped anyone?” Jackie grins, sharing a knowing glance with Nicky.

“I’ll believe it until proven otherwise,” Nicky insists, slamming her fist on the table emphatically. “Besides, she sounds like the type to get a One Direction tattoo in a foreign language, don’t you think?”

Jaida rolls her eyes, amused. “You haven’t even met her!”

“And also,” Nicky continues slyly, ignoring Jaida. “You have no proof that she’s not your soulmate. You won’t know for sure until she shows you her collarbone.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Jaida deadpans. “What do you want me to do, take her to, like, a strip club or something and hope she takes her clothes off? You can do that, child, I’m keeping things professional.”

Jackie laughs. “Let’s plan a double date.”

“Let’s get through this next week first, then we’ll talk,” Jaida counters, knowing the possibility of her following through will be slim. Still, she can’t help but wonder if by then, she and Crystal will actually know each other well enough for the idea to be plausible.

“Oh, wait! I have something to show you,” Nicky gasps suddenly, swiping off of FaceTime and opening photos instead. She chooses an image before swivelling her phone around for Jaida to see. “Sorry, I know this is going totally off-topic, but you must see this.”

It’s a photograph of Shea Couleé, one of Nicky’s fellow models, standing in a gauzy gown of galactic violets and a shimmering ebony. Jaida recognises the design instantly - it was one of the first things she pitched to Bianca, who, later on, begrudgingly admitted that she liked it so much she’d nearly promoted Jaida on the spot. The top half of the dress is covered in jewelled stars and surrounded by rings of planets, whilst the bottom is layers of tulle and gleaming black satin that shines like the midnight sky. Jaida remembers thinking something like this would be impossible to bring to life, yet now, she’s not only seen it on a mannequin, but also right here, in this photograph of Shea.

And she looks so beautiful, Jaida almost feels herself tearing up. Shea’s warm brown skin seems to glow amidst the glimmering jewels and star-shaped rhinestones. She holds her head high, ink-dark hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, spilling over constellations and galaxies. She looks regal, silver specks like starlight pooling in her obsidian eyes. She’s surrounded by tiny worlds, supernovas and shining stars, and Shea wears them all like she’s the sun. Jaida can’t take her eyes off of her.

“I know, right?” Nicky gushes. “Doesn’t she look so incredible?”

“Holy fuck. Holy shit, child, I can’t. This isn’t real. Pinch me.”

“It’s real!” Nicky promises, grinning from ear to ear. “I saw her at the fitting. She looks even better in person - I can’t wait for you to see her model it.”

Jaida genuinely has no words. They lodge in her throat, sticky with unspoken emotion. This moment feels… powerful. It feels like all her dreams have come true at once. All her late nights designing, sewing, stoning fabrics and adjusting seams - every moment feels worth it. She stares at the image, trying to sear it into her mind so that she’ll never forget it, wears the thought of it like a badge of honour. Jaida feels like anything is possible; like this show might just be perfect.

Jaida finds Crystal sitting in her car, headbanging to music so loud Jaida can hear it from outside — it’s still One Direction — as though the world isn’t passing right outside the windows.

“Hey, bitch,” Jaida greets her cheerfully, sliding into the passenger seat. She has to choke back a laugh when Crystal practically leaps out of her skin, her back stiffening until it’s ramrod straight.

“Shit,” she gasps. “Sorry. You literally gave me a heart attack. Oh my god, don’t ever do that again.”

This time, Jaida can’t hold back an amused snort. “I could tell. You were completely in your own world just then.”

“Such is the power of One Direction,” Crystal replies sagely as she turns the music back down to a more appropriate volume. “By the way, we’ve got another stop after this next meeting - the designers just finished the flyers and stuff, so we gotta go print them off.”

“No trouble.” Jaida can’t say she’s enthusiastic about having yet another task on her itinerary, but this one is so minimal effort that she can’t complain.

“Right, cool.” Crystal shifts the gearstick as Jaida leans back in her seat, surrounded by the generic pop melodies of One Direction and her own thoughts.

She can’t help but reminisce on Nicky’s words from earlier. What if all this is the work of fate? Are these car rides — and the fact that Crystal has, so far, played absolutely nothing but One Direction — destiny?

It sends an undeniable shiver up Jaida’s spine. To think that this moment was fated to happen no matter what she does feels… strange, to say the least. But if they are fated to fall in love, why doesn’t Jaida feel it?

She chances a sidewards glance at Crystal, and realises that she must have taken her denim jacket off sometime during the lunch break. Now, the jacket is loosely tied around her waist, and the T-shirt she’s wearing above it leaves her arms bare.

Bare enough for Jaida to see her tattoos.

There’s one on her right bicep: Jaida can only see the lower half of it, but it looks intricately detailed. She notices a small cat and a pair of legs before her gaze lands on the inside of Crystal’s other arm, where two circular symbols are inked onto her skin.

A weird combination of disappointment and relief washes over Jaida. Crystal isn’t fated to be hers after all - there are her tattoos, not one but two of them, likely both tied to a mysterious, predestined love.

You haven’t seen her collarbone yet, Nicky’s voice whispers in Jaida’s mind, but Jaida shoves it away. She doesn’t care. This is confirmation enough.

It’s incredibly common for people to get their soul tattoos in obvious places, like these tattoos on Crystal’s arms, or the flowers on Nicky and Jackie’s wrists that led them to one another. Jaida still remembers how Nicky would refuse to cover up her tattoos when she went outside, because “today could be the day, Jaida!”

Jaida almost laughs at the memory. She wonders if her own soulmate has spent as much of the last four years as possible with their tattoo showing. That might make things easier.

But Jaida has decided that she doesn’t care for easy. She’s grateful that her tattoo — her fucking One Direction tattoo — is in a place that she can cover up, and that in the meantime, her freedom is still hers. She doesn’t even need to think about her soulmate if she doesn’t want to. The words on her collarbone are the only things binding them, and right now, that bond can easily be ignored.

Her thoughts drift, momentarily, to Gigi - the girl she met years ago, with the honey-gold hair and skin as smooth as flower petals. She thinks about the image of the little doll on Gigi’s ribcage: the only trace of ink on her pale skin.

They had briefly asked about each other’s marks, and that was it. They didn’t match, but it didn’t matter. It had never mattered, even as they watched the spark die out and realised that maybe it was just destiny.

They’re still friends. Jaida sees Gigi sometimes, and it still makes her smile. Even if it’s over — even if it was never meant to be — they shared something special, regardless of their mismatched tattoos.

Jaida glances over at Crystal again. She’s focused on the road ahead, but she’s still quietly murmuring along to the music. She’s undeniably beautiful, Jaida thinks, with her sandy freckles and cerulean hair. She chances one more look at Crystal’s tattoos and fires off a text to Nicky.

I was right!! She’s already tattooed, so… no chance there.

Nicky’s reply comes instantaneously.

Seen her collarbone yet? ; )

Jaida leaves her on read.

Jaida and Crystal are the last customers in the print store.

It’s nearly closing time, and the girl behind the counter looks rather irritated to see them there. Ordinarily, Jaida wouldn’t have been too happy to be waiting around this late either, but today, she has Crystal. Talking to Crystal is easy; conversation flows between them like bubbling spring water, and Jaida soon forgets about the time.

She picks up one of the flyers as a staff member deposits a pile of them on the counter. Beside her, Crystal looks like she’s about to vibrate right out of her skin with anticipation.

“You good there?” Jaida asks, her brows furrowing in concern.

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Crystal shoots her a self-assured grin. “Just waiting to see what you think.”

Jaida’s gaze darts back to the flyer in her hand, and she almost does a double take. Looking back at her is a gorgeous model, dark skin shining a brilliant topaz in the gold lights and falling glitter.

And she’s wearing Jaida’s galaxy dress.

The drawing of it is almost better than the real thing. It no longer looks like a garment - rather, the model has become one with the universe itself, as though she carries worlds in her palms and constellations in her eyes. She looks powerful, commanding, ethereal.

Jaida’s gaze travels down the line of the model’s body and there, in the bottom corner, is a tiny signature of swirling script and looping letters. Jaida peers closer at it, making out an elegant C and the long tail of a Y.

“…Crystal, did you draw this?”

“I did!” Crystal seems to brighten, her face alight with pleasure, at Jaida’s realisation. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? Child, this is amazing!” She traces the outline of the perfect silhouette, still in awe of the work of art she’s holding. Crystal’s talent is immeasurable.

“I was given some photocopies of the designs that are gonna be in the show,” Crystal says. “And I just liked this one so much I knew I had to draw it. Do you know who designed it? The sketch didn’t look like one of Bianca’s.”

“Yeah. It’s not,” Jaida replies, almost shyly. “It’s mine.”

“No way!” Crystal gasps, slamming her palms onto the counter and wincing at the noise she makes. “How are you not, like, head designer? Hell, you could probably take Bianca’s job if you wanted to.”

This gets a laugh out of Jaida. “Bitch, I’d have to pry it from her cold, dead hands!”

“Okay, okay, true. But holy shit, Jaida. This dress is gorgeous. What are you even doing running these silly errands? You should be with all the designers. Why aren’t you with all the designers? I bet Bianca’s just scared you’re gonna outdo her.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Jaida snickers, “but it’s really just that we don’t have enough people yet. We’re still a small brand, so it’s very, like, all hands on deck. Everyone’s gotta do a bit of everything.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Crystal nods slowly. “How long have you been working with Bianca?”

“A year now,” Jaida replies. “It’s a good job. I get to do a lot of stuff - I’ve designed, sewed, and I did some of the models’ makeup one time.”

“Wow,” Crystal breathes, and Jaida warms at how impressed she looks. “You’ve gotta show me more of your dresses when we do the run-through in a couple days.”

Jaida smiles. “Sure.” There’s a pause before she adds, “what about you? What got you into event coordination?”

“I wanted to be a freelance artist for the longest time,” Crystal explains, shrugging. “But it’s just… not easy making a living like that. So I found some jobs where I could do some art here and there, and this was the first one that stuck.”

“I get that,” Jaida agrees quietly. It’s easy to have big dreams, but making them come true is another story - she feels lucky to have met Bianca when she did. “But with a talent like this,” she continues, gesturing to the flyer in her hands, “I can see you going places. Big places.”

“Aw.” Crystal’s face softens in a smile. “That’s so sweet. Thanks, Jaida.”

“That’s everything,” the girl behind the counter interrupts before Jaida can respond. “You’re with Del Rio, right?”

“Yep.”

“Right. All yours, then.” She gestures to the boxes of flyers and programs before turning away to shut off the printers.

“Welp, let’s get moving,” Crystal says, grunting as she heaves a box off the counter. Jaida follows, pretending not to notice the way Crystal’s tattoos flex as she moves. They load the boxes of flyers and event programs into the car before Crystal slams the boot shut, turning to face Jaida and smiling triumphantly.

“All in a good day’s work,” Jaida says, grinning.

“We were amazing today,” Crystal agrees, putting her hand up for a high-five. Jaida smiles and hits Crystal’s palm with her own.

Crystal tuts. “That was weak,” she tells Jaida. “Come on, you can give me more than that!” She raises her hand again, waving it in Jaida’s face. “Go! Go! Go! Show me what you’ve got!”

“What the fuck,” Jaida laughs, but she complies, whacking Crystal’s hand with as much strength as she can. “Better?”

“Oof,” Crystal groans, shaking out her hand before breaking into a smile. “See? That was much better. I knew you had it in you.”

“You are so crazy.”

“That’s old news, Jaida,” Crystal replies sagely. “Old, old news.”

Jaida snorts, almost in disbelief. Crystal is so amusing.

“I see. Thanks for catching me up,” she says, playing along.

“You’re very welcome.” Crystal grins brightly before opening the car door. “Now let’s take this stuff back so we can go home. I want a warm shower and some food.”

“That sounds amazing,” Jaida murmurs, sliding into the passenger seat beside Crystal.

“Yeah. You know what else sounds amazing?” Crystal asks, grabbing her phone as the car hums to life. “This song. This is the perfect way to end a good day at work.”

A moment later, upbeat, electronic music fills the car, and Crystal immediately begins bobbing her head to the beat.

“Let me guess,” Jaida says, pretending to think, “One Direction?”

Crystal’s brilliant grin is all the confirmation she needs.

They begin driving, and Jaida will admit that while she doesn’t like the song, Crystal’s finally-free-of-work-for-the-day excitement is infectious.

“Baby say yeah, yeah, yeah!” Crystal sings as they’re waiting at a red light.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Jaida joins in, and her chest warms when Crystal turns to her, eyes wide and shining with a pleasant surprise.

“If you don’t wanna take it slow, and you just wanna take me home, baby say yeah, yeah, yeah,” Crystal sings, her gaze flicking expectantly to Jaida.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Jaida finishes. Crystal giggles, bubbly with delight, as the light changes and she resumes driving.

Jaida leans back into the faux leather of the seat, her skin flush with a strange — but not unwelcome — warmth. It feels like Crystal’s presence has touched her in a peculiar way. Her bluebell laughter, her childlike excitement, her wild and wonderful charisma — all of it feels so comfortable to Jaida already, even though she’s only known Crystal for a single day.

She likes Crystal, she’s decided. Crystal with the strange name and the lollipop hair. Crystal who sings along to One Direction in the car. Crystal with the tattoos painting her tanned skin.

Jaida leaves work that evening feeling light on her feet, a lively melody playing on loop in her head. This day turned out better than she could have expected, and she has high hopes for the week ahead.

She hums the melody that’s stuck in her head as she boards the train on her way home. It’s cheerful, upbeat - where did she hear this again?

With a laugh, she realises it’s the One Direction song she and Crystal had sung together on the way back home. Jaida decides it might not be so bad after all.

#rpdr fanfiction #jaida essence hall #crystal methyd #nicky doll #jackie cox #crystal x jaida #jackie x nicky #fluff #lesbian au #soulmate au #diversity fic #black girl magic fic #one direction to your heart #cheetah #s12 #concrit welcome

20 notes · View notes

philtstone · 4 years

Note

“You smell nice.” for Gamora/Peter?

this was perhaps not what u may have had in mind for the prompt but ive been in a soft Mood this week and this fic refused to be anything else. it stands on its own but it can also be read as in the same universe as “you and me and this joy of ours” and “i believe in you and in our hearts”. genuinely havent written gotg since ... phew last may!!! but it was so easy to slip back into the characters and so familiar and comforting so thank u, thank u for the prompt <3 (incidentally zainab .... i still have a potc gotg au prompt of urs sitting in my google docs and with only one scene left to write .... will perhaps finish that this weekend)

The Benatar’s always had a peculiar thrum to it, in the hours of the time cycle where everyone’s retired to their own bunks. Gamora has long since acclimated to this thrum, found comfort in it even. There’s a serenity that comes with the mechanical vibrancy that is the ship’s beating heart, that she finds grounding. In the early days, on the Milano, it was a novelty -- a ship big enough to move around in but small enough that she could feel its innards working to keep them moving, keep them going. Now, it’s something else.

Gratefulness, Gamora thinks -- that’s what she feels.

Maybe it has something to do with her own body being part machine. She’s not sure. If she were in an introspective mood just now, she’d puzzle it out, but she isn’t; she’s dressed for bed and scrolling through the team’s work datapad, idly looking for a job they could take to tide them over to the next solar cycle and humming a Lou Reed song very quietly.

The little body wedged against her leg over the big bed’s comforter wriggles, turning towards her.

“You smell nice, Mama.”

Meredith’s curly head rests just under the pillow it’s supposed to be supported by, soft cheek squished into the bedding. She’s grinning in that sweet, guileless way of hers, so Peter-esque in its flavour that Gamora can never look at it and not smile.

She lets the grin pull itself into an exaggerated, goofy face that a younger her would never have thought possible, narrows one eye down at her daughter, and pretends to think about this.

“I smell nice, huh?”

“Uh huh,” says Meredith, nodding, resolute despite her horizontal position and the awkward angle at which she’s looking up at her mother. “Not like Daddy. He’s stinky right now.”

It’s very matter of fact. Gamora props the datapad against her bare knees and peers over Meredith’s little body to where Peter is passed out over the covers, one heavy arm slung above the pillow that Meredith has abandoned, almost there as a subconscious bracket against the hardness of the cabin wall behind them. His other half is at risk of slipping off the bed -- courtesy of the six year old between them insisting that she keep them company instead of sleeping in her own, perfectly usable bunk just two steps away -- and something about these two things together makes a part of Gamora’s chest tighten and loosen in a way she’s coming to suspect might be an embedded instinct older than time itself.

She didn’t used to think something like that could exist, outside of pure, mechanical survival.

She leans down a little, the bedtime braid of her hair shifting against her back, one hand coming forward to smooth Meredith’s purple curls away from her forehead.

“Let’s go easy on him. Daddy had a busy day.” Which is not strictly true -- most of it was over within a few short, hectic hours -- but Gamora has yet to find them a job that does not suddenly and abruptly go belly-up or ridiculous at the drop of a hat.

This is, of course, Peter’s metaphor, and not her own.

They had come out unscathed but more or less exhausted, is the point. And while Gamora had had the opportunity to shower and decompress a bit before corralling Meredith into her sleeping things with Mantis’s help, Peter had stayed in the kitchen with Rocket, to deal with an unexplainably still-ticking bomb, and then the cockpit to do the follow-up call with Dey afterwards.

By the time he’d shuffled into the captain’s cabin, he’d barely been awake enough to change out of his dirty coat and boots before passing out face-down.

“He forgot to take a bath,” Meredith says now, matching her conspiratorial whisper. “But that’s okay. We still love him.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Gamora agrees. It is a herculean effort to not burst into unreasonable, heart-swelling giggles -- at their daughter’s frankness and the absurd mundanity of the situation and the fact that, indeed, their bedroom has seen better-smelling days. She bites down on the inside of her cheek, and runs her thumb over Meredith’s hairline, and steadies her pad against her knees. The bedding is soft under her toes, as Meredith’s curls are under her fingers. “Sleep time now, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.”

Gamora stays awake, listening for the soft evening-out of Meredith’s breathing as it slowly matches Peter’s in its length and cadence. The ship thrums with its mechanical life around them, dynamic in the quietude of the night cycle.

#my writing #gamora #peter quill #starmora #gamora x peter #guardians of the galaxy #mcu #we are on this blog baby meredith stans first and people second

24 notes · View notes

szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point?: I try my best to explain things but ppl still don’t understand the obvious

What was the last thing you said in complete caps?: not sure what was last

Do you enjoy playing board games?: some

Did you wear anything new today?: pineapple shirt my mom bought for me recently

Do you ever eavesdrop on people’s conversations?: hard not to when they’re so loud

Are you good at playing Hide and Go Seek?: I was because I’m tiny XD

Who or what made you smile last?: my thoughts

What was the last song you had on repeat?: Daisy by Ashnikko :x

Do you often have that song on repeat?: no that was one time only lol I hardly ever have a son on repeat, that happened like 5 times in my entire life, usually after breakup

Silly string or confetti?: fun but too messy and waste of money so none

How long is your favorite song?: about 3.50

What was the highlight of your day today?: it’s complicated

Do you tap your foot when you listen to music?: I tap but mostly due to anxiety ^^”

Would you rather use tape or glue?: tape

Homemade or store bought cards?: store bought

Do you listen to any hip hop?: nah

How about some lyrics?: I'm tired of weakness Tired of my feet of clay I'm tired of days to come I'm tired of yesterday And all the worn out things that I ever said Now it's much too late The words stay in my head (...) I'm tired of Facebook Tired of my failing health I'm tired of everyone And that includes myself Well being alone now It doesn't bother me But not knowing if you are That's been hell you see

Have you ever had a fascination with stickers? slightly

Have you ever seen A Walk To Remember? yeah Did you ever watch Captain Planet? I did Do you think that Uggs are ugly? I love them Have you ever watched That ‘70’s show? meh Do you get along with your sibling’s friends? we don’t know each other Do you have a fashion icon? sorta, not really Do you think that iCarly is annoying? possibly

Have you ever had a really bad haircut? sadly

What are your favorite type of calendars? pocket? Could you spend hours on pinterest? just a couple of minutes Have you ever had to wear a school uniform? I liked that Who were your best friends in high school? K.K. E.E. E.W. Ż.B.

Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? bottom Have you ever had a secret admirer that left you notes? I got a note in elementary, it’s a mystery to this day, I thought that it’s a response from M.N. after I left him one myself but it seemed to be a prank done by girls who’ve been bullying me so I threw that piece of paper angrily at him like it was his fault - I still kinda remember what was written on it, they called me a flower and left a tiny drawing - later, forgot how, I found that note again and I believe I might still have it stored somewhere What was your favorite thing to do at sleepovers when you were younger? as a kid I had 1 sleepover (same school in which the note situation happened) my friend P.W. had puppies and I was allowed to stay for the night in her house Do you currently live in the city you grew up in? mhm What’s one way in which you’re behind the times? ex. getting a job What’s one way in which you’re still a child? ex. collecting stuffed animals, lots What’s one way in which you’re old? ex. health issues Do you feel old or young? Or do you feel both at different times? both at different times What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? money? Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? neither, I hold grudge and don’t trust the person again, at least for a long time Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? in primary most of them were, in middle school: polish, biology, chemistry and math and in high: russian, english, PE and physics (but I probably shouldn’t count it as we had it for a few months) Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? - What time of day were you born? half past midnight, my mother asked me why I’m so lazy as for someone who was born on Saturday and I responded with - I was sleeping in and was late for Friday What is the best hairstyle you’ve ever had? can’t choose Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? I’m used to my color but I wouldn’t mind dyed hair Do you ever listen to Celtic music? me and John had a phase on that back in the day, I wish I remind the titles... Have you ever wanted to be a model, actress, singer, or dancer? actress When you look at your baby pictures, do you recognize yourself? pfft Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? got darker, less red Do you wear matching socks? always but recently I thought about changing that fact Do you have a seashell collection? Do you have a rock collection? small Flamingos or pineapples? both Cacti or seashells? same but it’s harder to take care of cacti than shells haha Maple tree or palm tree? palm, ppl say maple looks like weed - I don’t think this way but that’s annoying, still I’d prefer maple trees irl! Dreamcatcher or wind chimes? wind chimes but not every kind Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? <3

Are you a pyromaniac? Bu is :P Are you a kleptomaniac? wtf Do you like to wear belts? it’s uncomfy and not good for my belly Would you ever get dreadlocks? I could but I won’t Do you listen to Eminem? no way

Does your sibling have a significant other? my sister is married

When and why is the last time you cried (or at least, shed tears)? yesterday?

Have you ever cried at a real wedding? not that I been to many but no

What do your flipflops look like? don’t own any

Are there any gadgets of yours that need charging right now? my cellphone is charging

Which awards show would you wanna go to the most (e.g Oscars, Grammys etc.)? I wanna go to MET gala, nothing else

Any idea what time you’ll be going to bed tonight? late

Does your significant other like the same colour as you do? she hates my fav colors besides black

Have you ever purchased anything online? obvi

Name all your friends whose name starts with the 4th letter of your first name. ...

Have you ever ridden an elephant? I’d like to (and camel and an ostrich and a horse)

Are you the candle lighting type? am not

Coffee in the morning, yay or nay? nay

Anal sex, yay or nay? hell no

Blue lipstick, yay or nay? okay, whatever

Is this question lame: “Have you had sex?” yep

Have you ever dated someone with really crooked teeth? mine are crooked

Would you rather vacation on the beach, or in the mountains? beach What embarrassing music do you listen to? too embarassed to write down? What’s your biggest talent? talented? me? r u kidding?

If you were a candy bar, what would you be? Milky Way? Would you rather ride in a hot air balloon or hang-glide? air balloon What’s one word you want people to use to describe you? truth is most important, everything else is less

Did you often read for fun when you were a kid? tons of books

Are you more of a visual learner or an auditory learner? I learn best with my hands (kinesthetic) but visual is probably easier than auditory to me

Do you have any dietary restrictions? ugh...

Do you prefer Google Maps, Apple Maps, Waze, or something else? I get lost no matter what

How old does someone have to be for you to see them as an adult? about my age or older

Do you ever ‘manspread’ when you sit down? sorry but I don’t sit like a lady - I sit like a lesbian unless there’s no space for that

When was the last time you were in a crowded place, and where was it? bus this day

Have you ever turned down a job offer? had to

What was the last medical appointment you scheduled? scheduled plenty at once

Have you ever had a dream in which you died? I die often, it’s a common element in my dreams, I’m fine with it by now

Have you ever fallen asleep on public transport? oh well... majority of those times I was able to but once it was an accident and I missed my stop while going to school

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? almost Have you seen all the Hunger Games films? yasss Why did you last go see a doctor? control visit about my IBS, GERD, food intolerances... Are you more logical or creative? depends

What do you currently hear? parents talking, music - iamamiwhoami; shadowshow

Did you get enough sleep last night? I slept a little over 3 hours and I feel tired Are the streetlights on? it’s not dark yet When you wear a hoodie, do you pull the sleeves over your hands? when it’s warm for that or they bother me in what I’m doing Are you in any advanced classes at school? w moim profilu miałam rozszerzone historię i WOK (wiedza o kulturze) Did you have a good day today? it wasn’t the worst (compared) and hope it won’t turn into complete shit

1 note · View note

peppersjam · 4 years

Text

My Top 10 Albums of 2019

2019 presented me with a handful of incredible events and memories (I turned 30, I got married, etc.), while also serving me a big challenge (my partner is temporarily living on the other side of the country). In a poetic world, these things would have a significant impact on the music that I listened to and loved, but no, not really. This year is pretty on the nose for me, music-wise. Oh, except that I got really into Taylor Swift in the second half of the year.

Before we hop into boring Steve's boring top 10 list, let's revisit the 2018 list. The only album on the list that I barely listened to in 2019 was Cardi's Invasion of Privacy. Everything else gets at least semi-regular spins, although I'd elevate Historian, boygenius, and Big Red Machine above these others.

My biggest disappointment this year was Charli XCX's CHARLI, which is a solid album, but it didn't grab me nearly as much as Pop 2 did a couple years ago. It hasn't stuck in my rotation.

Runners up:

Bon Iver - "i,i" (I love it when I listen to it, but for some reason I'm not often compelled to listen to it)

Ariana Grande - "thank u, next" (Staple of early 2019, but fell off)

Carly Rae Jepsen - "Dedicated" (Great, but I'd rather listen to E•MO•TION)

Taylor Swift - "Lover" (Some true standout tracks, like Lover and Paper Rings, but too many cloyboys and CRJ rip-offs)

Weyes Blood - "Titanic Rising" (I could see this growing on me over the years, like a Radiohead record)

And the pre-2019 albums that should've made my respective yearly lists:

Beyoncé - "4" (2011)

Beyoncé - "BEYONCE" (2013)

Big Thief - "Capacity" (2017)

Big Thief - "Masterpiece" (2016)

Perfume Genius - "No Shape" (2017)

Snail Mail - "Lush" (2018)

Taylor Swift - "Red" (2012)

10. Big Thief – U.F.O.F

Early in the year, I "discovered" Big Thief. I don't know how I missed them before. Specifically, the song "Masterpiece" got right up in my brain and has been hanging out there since. Then Big Thief gave us U.F.O.F. which was yet another great Big Thief album. See #3 below.

9. Andrew Bird – My Finest Work Yet

Look, I'll stop putting Andrew Bird records on my end-of-year lists when he stops making them.

Andrew Bird turned a corner with the release of Are You Serious where he basically acknowledged that he was now going to work with other people and write scrutable songs. It was a good album, but My Finest Work Yet refines this Andrew Bird 2.0 and delivers some of his... finest work yet ("Sisyphus," "Manifest," "Olympians"). While I still prefer earlier Andrew Bird (A Nervous Tic Motion into Fake Palindromes into Measuring Cups... my gosh, that's 10 incredible minutes of music), I understand why he's moved on to something else.

8. JPEGMAFIA – All My Heroes Are Cornballs

I've been in a rap rut. Kanye is putting out self-indulgent gospel albums. Chance and Drake are boring now. JAY Z is working with the NFL.

But the rut is mostly a lack of imagination on my part. There's a lot of rap out there that hasn't made it through my naive filter, and I want to seek more of it out in 2020. Case in point: JPEGMAFIA. He's weird, political, funny... all the things that the aforementioned rappers aren't (or at least, aren't anymore). All My Heroes Are Cornballs is the most hypnotic rap album I've listened to in years. The glitchy beats and effortless flow makes it impossible to turn off mid-album.

7. BROCKHAMPTON – Ginger

GINGER is a proper follow-up to the SATURATION trilogy. While Iridescence had some good tracks on it, the overall experience was jarring (not without reason, given what the group was going through with Ameer). GINGER reads (ok, plays) like an album in a way that the Saturations never did. While it may be spiritually linked to the Satursation, it's a complete departure sonically. Even though it's more constrained and less bombastic than their hits from that era, it feels much bigger and, ahem, More Important. That might not be to the taste of some of their fans, but I'm happy to have both versions of BROCKHAMPTON in my music library.

6. Lana Del Rey – Norman Fucking Rockwell!

Music publications couldn't get over the fact that on NFR!, Lana, yes LANA DEL REY, was wordsmithing at a high level. Is it that hard to believe that someone would become a better poet as they gained more life experiences, inching closer to the mystical 10,000 hours? Some of the praise may have gone a little overboard (and, frankly, seems rooted in a narrow, misogynistic view of Who Can Do Music Good™️™️™️), but I agree with the underlying principle of the praise: that this is a collection of well written and well performed songs. It has my favorite album closer of the year, "Hope Is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have - but I Have It." I get chills just thinking about it.

5. Clairo – Immunity

I enjoyed my first listen.

On my second listen, I wondered if it was maybe too simple. I didn't listen again for several months.

But then, when I was working from Pittsburgh the week before Christmas, I listened again. And I couldn't stop listening. It's simpler music than many of the albums on this list, but it appeals to me for the same reason I had a fixation with Snail Mail's Lush this year: it's incredible that songs that sound so "simple" (and I truly do not mean simple in an insulting way) can still be different than anything we've heard before, and can still transfix us in new ways. Behold ye, the power of combinatorics!

4. Vampire Weekend – Father of the Bride

Channel Orange to Blonde was 4 years. There's nothing you can do to get your favorite artists to make music faster. There's some beauty in that... that if an artist is financially successful enough, they don't need to rush.

Modern Vampires of the City to Father of the Bride was 6 years (i.e., 20% of my lifetime). But at least there are no duds here, and "Harmony Hall" might sneak into my hypothetical favorite-songs-of-all-time pantheon.

3. Big Thief – Two Hands

Oh, but then a few months later, Big Thief gave us another album. They started working on it right after they finished U.F.O.F, which tracks based on every interview I've read with Adrianne Lenker. She talked about the insane touring and album release schedule they've been on in the past four years, but her point wasn't "I'm getting tired," but rather "let's see if I can do this forever." I saw them play at The Fillmore after they released Two Hands and I got the sense that Adrianne has to make and perform music. She was uncomfortable engaging in the standard nearly-identical pleasantries that artists share with the audience. She was shy. She was surprised to find that we were hanging on her every word and chord. It was relatable. She's the closest to a genius I've seen in an indie rock band in the last several years, although I'm sure she'd hate anyone calling her that.

That genius produced Two Hands, an affecting indie rock record that practically demands that you close your eyes because you need to experience it and only it.

2. Tyler, the Creator – IGOR

This year, I listened to IGOR over and over again. The hooks, verses, beats, and vibe are all infectious. Boring Steve says "hey, look, it's just a great album." I don't have a deeper thought about it. I eagerly await Tyler's next project.

1. Nilüfer Yanya – Miss Universe

This year, like 2009 a decade ago, was an exciting year to be an indie rock fan. Vampire Weekend and Bon Iver cemented their elder ("elder") statesperson statuses, Big Thief came into their own as a true force of nature, and acts like Clairo and Nilüfer made me extremely jazzed about the Ghost of Indie Future.

Nilüfer has a unique and delightful voice that punches through some really fun songwriting and arrangements. Like, what a dumb, awesome lyric:

Although I cannot tell if I'm paranoid

Or it's all in my head, it's all in my head

Miss Universe is her debut full-length album, and it's a lovable and off-kilter thesis statement for what I assume will be a lovable and off-kilter music career. I can better explain why some of the other albums on this list are great, but suffice it to say, the system rewards unique performances.

#big thief #andrew bird #jpegmafia #brockhampton #lana del rey #clairo #vampire weekend #Tyler The Creator #nilufer yanya #beyonce #perfume genius #taylor swift #snail mail #bon iver #ariana grande #carly rae jepsen #weyes blood #Charli XcX

10 notes · View notes

taurusjaehyun · 5 years

Text

change // j.jh

♦️ Pairing: jaehyun x fem reader

♦️ Other Members/ Characters: Yeri from Red Velvet, Haerin (oc), Taeyong [mentioned], Johnny and his wife, Saera (oc) [mentioned]

♦️ Genre: angst, single dad jaehyun, bff au, unrequited love au

♦️ Warnings: grab a tissue ig?? Also, mentions of bisexual Jaehyun

♦️ Word count: 2,601

♦️ Story: You’ve known Jung Jaehyun for all of his life and you did everything together until you were older. After his girlfriend had left him and their new born baby alone in college, it was only natural you’d take the role of his daughter’s mother, like how he said he was the father of your son, Clark, a chow-chow, growing up. You’ve been playing house for years now but he’s starting to change and you don’t know what to feel about it.

Note: I’m uploading everything I’ve written since forever before I write new ones so I can fill up this blog with scenarios. Also, for some reason, I was hooked on writing with babies and children in stories years ago LMAOOOO so yeah, the last scenario I posted was Jaehyun with an unknown daughter lol Anyways, tell me what u think after. I don’t bite and I’d like to be friends!

You should have known when the ‘signs’ started to show almost 3 months ago. He was more distant, less focused when you were having conversations. He became distracted and closed up until it went to him completely not saying things he always used to say. The skin ship was less to none, the banter wasn't there, the affection was declining, and the warmth in his eyes was getting running out. In a blink of an eye, the person you knew for years wasn't there anymore.

He was slowly turning different.

It became worse when he'd often sleep out without telling you and returning home early in the morning for appearances sake for Haerin. If he did stay, he would sleep beside Haerin. Well, before, he would sleep beside Haerin but then he'd start to sleep in the living room, leaving just as soon Haerin left for school. You barely made conversation then. Video calls and phone calls were close to none and texts were scarce.

But to his credit, he was still an amazing father to Haerin. He often took Haerin out, excluding you but it was understandable because you were also very busy because you started to work on personal cases that took more of your time than usual. It was a career step but you made sure to do everything for Jaehyun and Haerin. Upon seeing that Jaehyun was becoming distant, you had worked on becoming closer to him but he seemed to shut you out. You'd cook his favorite food, buy his favorite snacks, play his favorite songs and did whatever you knew would please him, even going as far as letting him 'suck' on your boobs which was his favorite. He used the same joking tone you used on him but he rejected you, laughing.

And the reason was, he finally let you meet her: Yeri.

You first met her when he decided to take you out to a fancy dinner. It hadn’t happened in a long time. Jaehyun had texted you saying that you were going to have dinner somewhere fancy so he asked you to dress up. You were so excited that a permanent smile was etched on your face after he had texted you. Haerin was also happy, knowing that you, her Mom was happy.

You had dropped Haerin off at Johnny and Saera's place for the mean time. You were so happy and excited that your uber driver even told you and complimented you. You had started to chat with the old man until you reached the hotel with Jaehyun at the entrance, waiting for you. Jaehyun gave you a brief and awkward hug but you paid no mind, wanting to make this a good memory. You wanted to say you missed him since it had been a while since you actually had a proper conversation together.

The bliss you felt in his company was quickly replaced with disappointment when she had shown up. Yeri was beautiful. She was definitely one of the most beautiful women he’d let you meet throughout the years (all the girls he dated were gorgeous anyways). She had white, milky, smooth skin, big boobs, a cute smile, twinkling eyes and everything that he described when you had asked his type back in the days. Yeri was literally the woman of his dreams.

But then you also remembered that back then, he had dismissed the thought of dating. Even as far as saying that you would have to stay with them until Haerin was 30. Only then, he would settle down with a woman. It was such a vivid memory embedded in your brain. You comforted yourself by those thoughts, knowing he would keep his word like he always did.

You felt a pang in your chest when Jaehyun had introduced Yeri as his girlfriend. Yeri then introduced herself to you and her first impression was excellent. It was obvious why Jaehyun fell for her, honestly. She was intelligent, born into a rich and prominent family, beautiful and practically perfect in every way. She was classy, her speaking voice was even beautiful, her words were tasteful, her laugh was flowy and melodious, a great contrast to your dog like barking laughter that Jaehyun was probably sick of hearing. Yeri was practically perfect in every way. And looking at the way Jaehyun looked at her, you could clearly see that he adored her because that was how he looked at Haerin.

You admittedly couldn't join in their conversation. Even if you wanted to share your thoughts, it was like whatever you’d say wouldn't matter so you found yourself speaking when you were was being spoken to, which was totally unlike you. But of course, Jaehyun didn’t notice, as he was too deep into Yeri’s gaze.

"You've been friends with Jaehyun for so long! Tell me more about him, please. I'd love to know more about my boyfriend from another person's perspective." Jaehyun looked embarrassed but he let Yeri do whatever to himself.

You had told Yeri everything you thought she wanted to hear, of course but tweaking some things that you knew Jaehyun didn't want to be known, more specifically the negative things. In return, Jaehyun gave you a thankful smile after in which you gratefully accepted.

Dinner was cut short since Yeri was to meet with her parents so she had to be picked up by her chauffer so Jaehyun had no choice but to take you home. You had sensed it so you told him you were doing an errand do you had to go home, but Jaehyun insisted he drives you home since you live in the same house anyways.

"Just drop me off at Johnny and Saera’s." You spoke as you watched the rain drops slide on the car window. It had started raining a little after you left the hotel. It was still early and you were barely half an hour in your dinner when Yeri had to leave. It felt like forever, though.

Yeri had given you her number, insisting that you contact her so you can both hang out soon because according to her, Jaehyun’s friends were her friends too, and especially that you’re Jaehyun’s best friend since forever. Somehow, you were relieved to meet Yeri because the more you wrapped your head around the idea of Jaehyun and Yeri together, the more it made sense. They were perfect for each other.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” She didn’t realize he had been talking to her the entire time.

“I said, let’s not tell Haerin about me and Yeri yet. I don’t want her to be shocked. But, Yeri already wants to meet Haerin. She loves kids!”

You nodded, glancing at him before looking straight ahead. Wow. She even loves kids. No wonder Jaehyun fell hard. “I’m happy for you, Jae.” You spoke almost too tenderly. It was sincere. You were happy for him because you’ve always thought love was something to be celebrated and Jaehyun looked very much in love with her earlier. You wanted to get mad and express you jealousy but you knew your place. You were just a friend. You meant nothing more than a friend. “She’s an amazing woman. I was kind of intimidated, to be honest. She’s perfect, huh?”

Jaehyun chuckled, “yeah! Honestly, she kind of intimidated me too. I had the biggest crush on her then and I never thought she’d notice me… But now… I can’t believe she’s mine, y/n. It’s like she came from a dream. It’s like… there’s a bright light around her and she always somehow makes everything brighter. She’s like the sun, y/n. I’ve never felt this strongly for anyone before.”

You smiled, touched by his words. You never knew he could get poetic but no matter how beautiful his words were, they felt like big, sharp rocks being thrown at you. You knew you couldn’t fight against Yeri if you tried. “You deserve each other, Jaehyun. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy with anyone. I’m happy she makes you feel that way.” I wish I was her, you thought.

Jaehyun hadn’t talked and opened up to you in so long but honestly, you didn’t wanna hear anything he was saying. His words were too painful. Too raw. And you wanted nothing but to cry and maybe then, if he saw you cry for him, he’d realize you’ve always been the one for him.

By now, you knew every detail of how they met, how he felt and how he stayed over at her place, how they bonded over things they liked in common, how they liked the same food, how great the sex was and what not. He also told you about how Yeri doesn’t know about his bisexuality and Taeyong. Yeri was a bit of a conservative, according to him, and she was apparently raised by a conservative family. For Yeri, he was this perfect straight male. He never smoked around her too.

Halfway to the drive, you had pretended to be asleep but ended up falling asleep for real. When you woke up, you were already at home. You immediately unbuckled your seat belt as soon as the car rolled up by the the gate. You were about to open the door of the car when Jaehyun had stopped you.

“You’re not sleeping over at Yeri’s?” You asked, confused.

“No. I haven’t been home in a while and I missed you. Let’s just get Haerin tomorrow.”

As soon as you got in, Jaehyun headed to your shared bedroom and dropped himself on the bed, sighing contently. The look of bliss on his face made you jealous. You announced you were gonna take a shower and quickly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick cold shower so you could sleep. You were too tired to think and frankly, you just wanted to sleep to avoid the throbbing pain in your chest and avoid anymore conversation.

You reached behind your back to pull down the zipper of your dress but failed so you tried again with your other hand but ended up failing again. You tried and tried but you couldn’t reach it so you had no choice but to ask Jaehyun for help. You walked out the bathroom and padded over to Jaehyun’s side of the bed where he was already settled in, “Jae. Help. Please.” Jaehyun grinned before you spun around quickly facing away from him, trying to regulate your quickening heart beat. Damn him and his smile.

You finally felt your dress being loose and eventually, Jaehyun was trying to pull down your dress, but you weren’t wearing a bra so you pushed it up and ran over to the bathroom, holding the front of the dress to your chest as if he hasn’t seen your boobs before.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, y/n!” Jaehyun laughed as he walked over to the bathroom, catching you in your bathrobe as you removed your make-up for tonight which you spent hours on, to be honest.

You frowned as you watched his happy expression from the mirror as you scrubbed your face.

Jaehyun also started to wash his face then brush his teeth. You noticed that he had a scar on his cheek so you reached over and ran the pad of your thumb over it. For a moment, it felt like the old times. “Yeri doesn’t like the scruff, so I got cut when I was trying to shave.”

You had always been the one to shave his face because stupidly enough, he always manages to hurt himself like now. You clicked your tongue and grabbed the first aid kit. “Put this on after you wash your face.” You handed him a heart patterned band-aid that Haerin chose (for the design, of course) from the cupboard from under the sink.

Jaehyun smiled, drying his face with a towel as he watched you clean off your make-up with precision, as always. He’d seen this routine for years and he’d suddenly appreciated how you’d always done it regardless if you were too tired, or too drunk, especially back in uni after attending those frat parties his frat threw every weekend. “You know, I’m glad I introduced to Yeri. And I’m even more glad you like her.”

You looked at him as you scrubbed you face with facial foam. His face was filled with warmth and emotion. It was so obvious how he was so happy. It kind of hurt, honestly. You gave him a smile and faced yourself in the mirror, fingers unconsciously scrubbing harder.

“You’ve taken care of Haerin for almost all her life and if there was one person who could say if someone would be good with Haerin in the future, that would be you. I mean, I’m not talking about marriage yet but I want her to be a mother figure for my daughter, too.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words. You’ve always been just his best friend and his daughter’s Aunt. No matter what Haerin called you, you would never be Haerin’s mother. You hissed as you washed the soap off your face, realizing your face had turned red from the hardness of your scrubbing.

“Do you think Haerin would like her?” Jaehyun asks, pure excitement evident in his face and voice.

You chuckled, trying to make it look natural. “I mean, I’m not Haerin so I’m not really sure but she won’t dislike her for sure.” It was true. You didn’t know how Haerin would react but Haerin wasn’t a spiteful child albeit a little shy to strangers but it was no doubt she and Yeri will get close soon. “Wait, I have to poop so can you get out?” You chuckled in which Jaehyun laughed at, teasing you as he came out.

In reality, you sat on the toilet, thinking about how Haerin would react if you’d have to leave when Yeri and Jaehyun become serious. Was it better that you let Haerin and Yeri spend more time together so the parting between you and Haerin would be easy? The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth that it made you feel like you wanted to throw up but even if you wanted to, nothing would come out.

After your shower, you had dressed in an old t-shirt and and shorts, not your usual sleepwear which comprised of Jaehyun’s shirt and boxers. Jaehyun was already on his side of the bed, looking fast asleep. It would be weird to sleep next to him so you decided to sleep in Haerin’s room instead. But before you could pass the bed, Jaehyun was already awake, asking where you were going and why you weren’t in bed with him despite you saying you were sleepy. Of course, you didn’t want to make it awkward so you played it cool and laid on your side of the bed, facing away from Jaehyun.

Feeling drained, you closed her eyes and let yourself be succumbed to sleep. But before you could, Jaehyun had pulled you back in his arms, spooning you, like he always did, and kissed the nape of your neck before burying his face on the curve of your neck. “Thank you for everything, y/n. Thank you for taking care of Haerin all these years. Thank you for being the best friend anyone could ever have.”

Sleep never came after that. It was only when you knew Jaehyun was asleep, was when the tears you didn’t know you were holding, started to fall.

You needed to change, too. it was better this way.

Here’s a drabble for the story featuring Jaehyun and Haerin.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios #singledad!jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun au #jaehyun x reader #nct fic #nct angst #nct fanfics #nct scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong #johnny #yeri

662 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

Unmasked ~ Six

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the sixth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 6 ~~

If I found some of the townhomes and wealthy mansions we have visited in the past month gaudy, the Capitol estate of the Duke and Duchess of Cashmere qualifies as obscene. Not even located in the city itself, it takes near an hour simply to reach it. When we do, I have to remind myself not to gawk.

The lane, lit with a long queue of torches, seems to extend past the horizon. They pass the carriage windows in streaks of orange and short bursts of heat before we reach the next. The wheels churn on the rocks and I contort myself to see the house without leaning out the window. It rises up into the evening sky, more palace than house, set against magnificent hues of pink, red, vibrant orange, purple, and deep blue.

“It’s beautiful,” Madge breathes, having leaned across my body to peer out the window as well.

“Of course it is. Cashmere would not settle for anything less than spectacular and the Good Lord Himself wouldn’t dare provide less than a spectacular sunset to grace her affairs,” Effie announces and Haymitch grunts from beneath his tipped forward hat. He hasn’t moved since we left, making me wonder if perhaps he were napping, but his response suggests that he is wide awake. Effie catches on to this and swats his arm with her fan. “Haymitch! It is a masquerade. Put on your mask!”

Madge leans back in her seat and smiles at me, adjusting her own mask, which is already perfect anyways. The carriage jostles slightly and the loud clacking of hooves followed by the bone jarring rattling alerts us that we have reached stone. The house embraces us, a giant U shaped around a cobblestone courtyard. Almost every window shines, ablaze. I cannot imagine the expense of candles to light this place.

We have time to wait, already a long queue of arriving carriages has formed. When it is our turn, a footman in dark blue livery opens the door, and bows low enough for us to see the purple bow tying back his long hair before assisting all of us from the carriage. Haymitch leads us up the stairs, Madge laces her arm with mine and we clasp hands. I can tell from the way she looks around as I am that even she has never seen such wealth.

I scramble with mental hierarchy to figure out where Lord Mellark, Marquis de Vale would be placed in wealth and privilege, somewhere between a duke and an earl, I believe. Such things were unimportant to my parents since we had so few out of the area visitors to Everdeen, let alone anyone with a title besides Madge’s family. Unlike most young girls my age, I did not have a ranking list of the peerage drilled into my brain. My parents never cared and therefore neither did I. Effie has given me at least half a dozen lectures on it, yet all I can now remember is a vague buzzing noise in my brain, like a persistent fly. Now it seems a disadvantage that I did not pay closer attention.

If I am right in my guess at rankings, that means Sir Robert is used to more wealth and fine things than Madge, although perhaps not this much. I hope not, at least. As we climb a grand set of stairs lined with more torches, it is yet one more reminder of all the things I do not know about Sir Robert or the sort of life I will lead as his wife. I formed plans for Everdeen and failed to consider that, if Sir Robert is expected to present himself and act as though he is first in line for the title, as his wife, I will be expected to act as a future Marchioness. I have no idea how to behave around such wealth and nobility.

Once, I overturned a log deep in the woods, uncovering a writhing pile of worms. At the time, I had been happy to see them, signs of growth and the vitality of nature in the soil. Now I feel as though they have taken residence in my stomach and they are most unwanted.

What have I done? I’ve engaged myself to a stranger. I panicked when I agreed to his proposal, afraid that if I rejected him, another such proposal might never come my way. I do not have time to seek out another unless I decide to forsake Everdeen to the control of our steward, sever my thoughts and care from my home and her people. No, I cannot do that, not while my father still breathes and the responsibility for the land and people rests with my family. I must repair the damage done in my impulsive reaction and learn exactly who my betrothed is, ensure that I will not be expected to neglect Everdeen simply because I choose to paste the name Mellark over the one I was born with.

Now, I tell myself not to panic as Effie jabs her fan into my side, prompting me to stand straight as Haymitch hands over our invitation to a gentleman in a uniform that matches the footman’s only with more braiding on the jacket, and we are announced. Announced at a masquerade, how ridiculous. Tis no wonder everyone knows who everyone else is here.

We glide regally down another set of stairs into a wide, marble and gilded foyer. The ceiling soars up to a magnificent painted ceiling. We descend down to a cloud grey marble floor and are almost immediately swallowed into the crowd.

“Now girls,” Effie snares my hand and reminds us one more time. “If we are separated, you two stay together. We will meet here at the end of the evening.”

And then we are separated, the crowd deftly dividing us into pairs as I cling to Madge and we are swept along.

“Shall we find the food or Sir Robert first?” Madge asks.

“A drink!” I gasp as a hand caresses over my backside and I jump forward. I whirl around to yell at the man who accosted me only to find no one I can easily accuse. Whoever touched me has already disappeared into the crowd. So then that is what Madge meant about inhibitions being discarded or forgotten. “Something to drink.”

We search for the refreshments and finally find them, gulping down a clear, fizzy wine. We ogle the spread of treats to eat and decide on a few we will need to try later. There are so many beautiful gowns around us, and we spend some time admiring several. Whispers seem to follow us and I wonder at their cause until I ask and Madge pulls me towards the dancefloor as we hear the orchestra tuning their instruments.

“It’s your gown. They are all wondering who you are and talking about your gown, Katniss. No one will be able to forget you tonight.”

“We were announced.”

“No one paid attention to that,” she waves it off as insignificant.

I glance down at my gown, searching for a reason it might attract attention. Perhaps the tones of the dress are darker than the pale colours that seem to be the fashion. I am not the only one here dressed in dark shades; however, I am the only one wearing a single sleeve. The silver painted designs curling over my bare arm adds a touch of almost scandal. I’ve never had so much skin on display and suddenly feel quite out of sorts. Apparently I am doomed to continue making poor decisions this week. I take another drink of the wine and let the bubbles carry away some of my thoughts.

We stand on our toes as couples line up for the first dance, eyes scanning the crowds for a familiar profile or gleaming blonde curls.

“I do not see him,” Madge says, confusion in her voice.

“Nor I.” The worms have discovered a feast in my stomach as the music begins and with a few cheers, so does the dancing. The Duchess wisely chose to begin the evening with a lively tune and while it appears to be a great deal of fun, my promised partner is absent.

“He must be here somewhere,” Madge insists, with a squeeze of my hand. “We will wait near the floor and he will find us. That is why you sent him the note describing your mask and gown.”

Halfway through the first dance, we’re approached by a gentleman in a blue and silver mask, dark copper toned hair and sea green eyes. He asks for the next dance and I refuse, insisting that it is already spoken for. Another man asks Madge for a dance and she refuses as well.

“You should dance,” I tell her once we have reached the third with several more invitations to dance and still no sign of Sir Robert.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

When the first gentleman returns during the fourth dance to request Madge partner him for the next song, however, we have run out of excuses. “Surely you are not still going to claim you are spoken for? You have not moved a step!”

Madge accepts his invitation with a concerned glance back at me and I motion for her to go and to have fun. As soon as her attention is claimed by the dance, I allow my smile to vanish. I glance up towards the grand staircase and see several late guests wander in, although the servant who announced guests at the start appears to have ceased his duties.

That is it, I tell myself with a confident nod. Sir Robert is late, as usual, and I have missed his arrival or perhaps he has not yet arrived at all. I need only wait a few more songs.

After the fifth, the orchestra takes a short break. Madge returns and we test a few of the treats, although we do not linger for long. The crowd is near impossible to navigate and I am concerned that Sir Robert will not be able to find me at all.

Another set and I am tired of the whispers following me, of being asked to dance by several gentlemen but not the one I want. Madge is claimed for dance after dance, and I cannot seem to find my family. It is more humiliating than being stuck in the mud and needing Peeta’s assistance. I turn back to the tables of food for solace, then away when I see how crowded they’ve grown. Just as the orchestra begins the third set of dances, I spot him.

A head of blonde hair standing perfectly still in the sea of people moving around him. He calmly surveys the dancers, as though looking for someone. I do not know how he managed on such short notice, but his attire matches mine. Dressed in a dark grey coat and vest, ivory trousers, shirt and cravat. His mask, painted deep hues of red much like the ones adorning my mask, covers almost the entirety of the left side of his face, but only down to the cheekbone on the right. The asymmetry mimics my dress and I wonder if he somehow planned that. Did Effie or Cinna speak to him in advance? I shake my head, gather my ire and my skirts, and charge towards him. Effie insisted I bring the matching lace fan Cinna made for this gown and now I am happy to have it as I wield it as a weapon of irritation.

Thwack! Into his chest. His head snaps to look down at me. I do not even attempt to disguise my annoyance.

“You are horribly late.”

He releases a soft puff of laughter, his smile fleeting but warm. He then sobers, taking my hand holding the fan in his and bowing low over it, the motion slow and deliberate.

“A thousand apologies for keeping you waiting, Miss Everdeen. There was a bit more traffic than I expected to encounter.”

“Will you be late to your own wedding then? Your funeral?”

“Hopefully not the first, and could you fault me for the latter?”

I laugh a little at this. His dry tone is not one I am used to him using. I rather like it on him. Laughter makes forgiveness easier, but not assured.

“You owe me a dance, sir. Perhaps several for keeping me waiting so long.”

“Ah…the floor looks quite crowded. Perhaps later?” I ignore disappointment as he gestures back towards the food tables. “A refreshment instead? It is quite warm in here.”

He extends his arm and I take it, settling into a careful walk through the crowds. It takes some time, avoiding merry people and those who have already managed to imbibe a little too much. Sir Robert speaks not a word, not even when he steps back, fingers lightly grasping my elbow to maneuver through tight spots with me in the lead. His fingers swipe gently over my bare skin and then are gone, once more replaced with his arm, just in time to steady me as I have to halt abruptly for a passing lady too preoccupied with her dessert to notice us.

I catch Madge’s eyes then and her mouth rounds out for a second then turns to a smile as she spots my companion. She waves once, with excitement before the gentleman she is with steps between us and claims her attention again. She laughs at whatever he says, her cheeks pinkening. I am happy to see my friend enjoying herself and glance up at the man beside me, hopeful once more that the evening will be fruitful for me as well.

He secures two glasses for us and hands me one with another slight bow.

“I am glad you are here, if a trifle late,” I say, uncertain how to breach the silence.

“As am I.” He leans close then to whisper in my ear. “In truth I am surprised you bothered to wait. Half the gentlemen here are mesmerised by you and those who are not are clearly foxed.”

“And which half are you?” I ask, warmth blooming in my chest at the compliment.

“I’ve not had anything to drink yet,” he murmurs. My pulse flutters madly at his words and the heat of his breath on my ear. “I am thankful no one ran off with you before I could make it here.”

I have to shake my head to free my senses of the thrill, and hide my smile behind my wine. “Flattery will not save you from my annoyance. I still expect that dance.”

“Normally I would dance, except I become clumsy after the reel.”

“You’ve not even danced one, how could you become clumsy?”

“It is a rare talent and requires a great deal of practice.”

Once more, I find myself laughing. Relieved and wondering if perhaps I should talk him into wearing a mask and banishing his brother for the next few months if this open and witty man is who he truly is when unguarded. Peculiar that society’s masks hide more of our true selves than a physical mask.

I have so many questions, but before I can even ask one, his gaze is drawn away from me to a girl with lustrous red hair. She can be no more than sixteen, the same age as Prim, and hides on the fringes of the crowd. She holds her lips tight together and glances about the room. She produces a small mirror from the pockets of her gown and releases her lips. They are stained bright red and she gasps, tears trickle down her face from behind her mask. She grabs a glass of wine off the table near her and moves to drink, licking her lips. When she once more checks her face and nothing has changed, I understand her dilemma and move towards her.

Shielding her body from view of the crowds, I take the wine from her. “What happened, darling?”

“The punch! The red punch! My mother is going to be furious!” Panic makes her talkative as she spills half her life story. “She says my red hair is a mark against me. That only ladies of a certain nature have red hair or red lips. And now I’ve both! It is my first ball!”

“Hush. It will be alright. We shall find your mother and explain.”

“That won’t work!” She wails and it is then that I notice her teeth are stained as well. Sir Robert excuses himself. I send an annoyed glance his way before focusing on the torrent of words spilling from the poor girl’s mouth. She hardly takes a breath, leaving me no room to comfort her as she babbles on about all the ways she has already disappointed her dear mother. I have half a mind to find the woman and lecture her in the hall. “She told me not to drink the red punch. I might spill it and stain my dress and…and–”

“Here.” His hand brushes my arm and I glance down to see a glass of the red punch. My hands move to accept it of their own volition. When my eyes jump up to his face, he’s already drinking from his own glass.

“Sir! No!” The girl cries and he smacks his lips in satisfaction.

“That is quite delicious. Hm, and now we shall start a new trend.” He turns away from us and speaks to the closest passer by. “Good sir! You must try the red punch!”

He begins to tell everyone who will listen that they must try the punch, or that the wine appears to be running thin but there is still the excellent red punch, any number of extortions given with smiles and a joke or two, his mouth not yet stained enough to reveal the danger in drinking it to everyone he encourages.

The girl gasps as several people begin to brave the red punch. Glasses are fetched for ladies who await refreshment. Matrons hand them to their young charges.

“Miss Everdeen,” he lifts his glass to mine and a wide smile spreads across my face before I take a healthy swallow as he does the same. In an astonishingly short amount of time, half the guests have red stained mouths and our new friend has a dance partner with lips that now match hers and who pulls her towards the floor with a smile on her face.

We watch her for a moment and I feel an odd sort of pride as she says something that has her partner laughing before he twirls her. I glance up at the man beside me, astonished at his handling of the situation. It was not the behavior I would expect of the shallow fop concerned mainly with his dress, the latest gossip, or the status of his stables that I thought myself engaged to. It hints at someone with more substance, more care for the people he shares this world with, and even in our current silence, I feel more comfortable with him than ever before.

“May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he says.

“I know so little about you.” His eyes meet mine and for one second, I am the one mesmerised. His eyes seem a deep blue in the shadows created by the mask. Dark and wonderful.

“We are wearing masks. You are not meant to know a thing about me.”

“I think I might like to change that. Do you know of a place in this monstrous palace where we might talk easier?”

He seems to hesitate then looks over the crowd for a moment. Setting both our glasses aside, he takes my hand in his and leads me through the crowd. Once again it is slow going. For one moment, I think he is perhaps leading me towards the gardens, a veritable den of wickedness and sin at these balls, if Aunt Effie is to be believed. He has misconstrued my intentions!

I begin to panic as I realise that yes, I had planned on kissing him tonight, but now that I am faced with the possibility, I am mortified. Or perhaps terrified. I do not know what I am thinking except that I wish to talk more and then decide if I even want to kiss him. That is the courtship I should have pursued, I realise now. Oh how my father would be disappointed in my headstrong, stubborn pursuit of matrimony first and trust later.

Sir Robert turns away from the doors leading out to the gardens and instead leads me through a tall arched doorway and into a long hall that seems to span an entire arm of the house. Tapers line the walls on both sides and windows framed in heavy drapes show the black night outside. A handful of guests wander up and down the checkered floor. Within a few steps, the noise from the ball lowers considerably. Only the sounds of shoes on marble and whispered conversations, a sprinkling of laughter float on the air.

“Oh,” I breathe in relief. This is perfect. It is quiet enough that we might converse, empty enough that we shan’t be overheard, but contains enough witnesses that a wise person would not try anything untoward. He slows his step and I notice that one foot seems to drag a little. “Did you injure yourself?”

“Nothing serious,” he explains and then releases my hand, setting me free to walk.

“But perhaps aggravated by dancing. You could have simply said that instead of making excuses,” I say with a smile and he seems to be examining me. “I was beginning to think you did not want to dance with me at all.”

“I would dance a hundred dances with a broken leg were that the only way to make you happy.” I laugh nervously at his flattery, although this is closer to the Robert I am familiar with. How horrid. To have a husband who flatters and compliments at every turn. But will he flatter and flirt with every other lovely lady of his acquaintance? Or me and me alone?

The question disturbs me as his blue eyes follow me down the hall, his footsteps slow and steady behind me. Deliberate and methodical.

“What is this room, then?”

“Portrait gallery,” he explains as we reach the first painting and I make a noise of understanding. “I believe the last time I was forced to sit in conversation with the Duke, he explained that these span… thirteen generations?”

“Thirteen?” I ask, glancing back at him with a quirk of my lips.

“I am guessing. I honestly don’t remember what he said.” Another laugh rises in my chest and bursts free. He gifts me with a sweet smile.

“Perhaps we should try to count then.” I turn back to the portrait and he stands next to me. Shoulder to shoulder as we examine the face of a long dead ancestor. At least, I am guessing he is dead, based on the ruffled collar he wears.

“Do you think anyone choked wearing those?” The laugh that rings down the gallery is his this time. On an impulse, I grasp his hand and drag him to the next. This one is of a couple and I find myself mimicking her pose.

“I think you have all the makings of a duchess,” he says. “Or perhaps not. There is too much laughter in your eyes.” I glance at the serious woman in the portrait and then back at him, his quirked smile. I attempt to keep my entire face somber and only earn a slowly widening, red stained smile until he laughs, shaking his head and unable to believe my act as I too laugh. Odd that I have never noticed his smile as being lopsided. I am learning all sorts of new things about my fiancé tonight.

We wander the gallery, commenting on the stern faces depicted in each portrait. He turns it into a game of sorts, concocting stories about the inhabitants of canvas, forever frozen. Most of them are silly and ridiculous and have me laughing until I can hardly breathe. Then we reach a set that dampens the mood and yet reveals so much.

“This poor lady was told to appear more cheerful and cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Her husband brought home another hunting trophy to clutter up her drawing room.” He points to the portrait immediately to the right, a stern looking man standing triumphant over a dead tiger.

“The poor creature. Why would you kill such a magnificent animal?”

“I was led to believe that you hunt,” he says and I lift one shoulder to convey a sort of indifference.

“If there is a use for the animal. A stag provides a bounty of meat, skin to be turned into leather for shoes or tack, antlers carved into tools such as needles and more. But this…have you ever eaten a tiger steak?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

“Perhaps if one were desperate or close to starving, but this man is garbed in gold buckles on his shoes and the finest velvet coat. It is needless and cruel to kill such a creature simply as a trophy. All that accomplishes is to satisfy your vanity.”

The look he gives me stirs something deep within. I feel as though we have somehow charged the air with our conversation and if one of us so much as speaks, the entire place with erupt. He leans towards me for a moment and then steps abruptly towards the next portrait and I wonder if he was about to kiss me in the middle of the portrait gallery. But why? And then… Why didn’t he?

After that, we continue our game with a touch less levity, although in between portraits we answer superficial questions.

“What is your favourite colour?”

“I am appalled by your question and shall fetch my Uncle at once to defend my honour,” I protest lifting my nose and turning from him with a smile still on my lips, earning a warm chuckle from him.

“I doubt that you need his help. Perhaps if I tell you mine?”

“Green,” I say, not really wanting to put up too much of a fight and flattered by his comment on my independence.

“Green?”

“Yes.”

“I imagine for your countryside that you love so much.”

“And my forests. I need trees as much as I need air to breathe.”

“Which explains why you are so fond of riding in the park, the only real source of abundant trees in the city. There are trees in the gardens here, I believe,” he suggests and I pause. He seems to realise my hesitation and alters course. “Orange. My favourite colour is orange.”

“The fruit?”

“No, not quite that bright. A shade of orange that you might find in a sunset.”

“Similar to tonight’s,” I whisper, seeing that beautiful panorama from tonight again and feeling my heart speed at the sudden idea of pausing in evenings to watch the sunset over green hills with him.

“Exactly like tonight’s.”

“Unorthodox, but I like it. We have this wildflower at Everdeen that blooms in the spring. I missed it this year, with our haste to reach the city and… anyways I think you might favour the shade.”

“Might I?” his fingers brush mine and I shiver, disappointed when he withdraws his touch. “Tell me more about your home?”

I lose myself telling him all about the hills and the forests, my time as a girl, my father, Primrose and mother with their healing hands and welcoming hearts. The families who rely on us, the faded golden and green and purple hues of the harvest. I am astonished at how he listens, asking all manner of questions at exactly the right time. I talk and talk until I am sure that he must be bored with me and then realise that we have traversed the entire length of the gallery back again, to the doorway where we began.

“It sounds lovely. I hope for the chance to see it one day.”

“You shall,” I promise with a smile and he seems to fidget nervously for a moment.

“Miss Everdeen,” he begins and then stalls for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts before he continues. “There is something I should confess to you.”

A strong breeze curls in through the doors to the gardens, setting the thin gauzy curtains to dance. It distracts me and I catch the scent of the flora, the cool night air. The music beckons, and yet as much as I want to dance with him, the pull of the gardens is stronger.

“Not in here,” I insist and take his hand, leading him outside and into the night.

His steps falter and I hasten, hoping that we will not be seen and that I will not regret this decision. I have spent unending hours with him for the past week, always with someone else present, and now that I have him to myself, I am discovering that he is an excellent listener, kind and thoughtful. He possesses a wicked sense of humor, steady and calm but with an unexpected heat in his blue eyes. I am curious to see that heat unleashed, yes, but beyond that, tonight is the first I have felt that perhaps I could build a life with this man. Only a few questions remain. Can he reveal himself to me as I have to him? Will he be repulsed by the last remaining secrets I hold? And if he kisses me, will I feel nothing at all or will I find the rapture Madge spoke of?

As we reach an orchard, the boughs of the trees hide us from the night and I inhale a deep breath, releasing it in a content sigh. “Now it is your turn. Tell me of your home.”

“Ah, that may prove difficult.”

“Because there are so many?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“Not quite.”

“Then tell me of your family. Start with your brothers. You once said there were several of you and yet I only know of the one.”

“Alright. Simple enough. There is Ethan, the heir, oldest and most responsible, obviously in line for the title.”

“Obviously,” I tease and he smiles.

“He is married to a lovely lady of irreproachable breeding and education named Sara. Sara prefers eating between meals and sneaks treats of all kinds to everyone she cares about whenever she is eating out of the routine and yet, she has never once been caught doing so. None of us wish to see her in trouble nor the end of the treats. She is also an excellent card player. Never wager against her, always partner with her.”

I laugh at this image of a doting woman handing out sweets and fleecing her family and acquaintances of their funds with an angelic smile, married to a stiff man of impeccable manners.

“They have five children, one son and four daughters, and the rest of us are constantly reminded how far behind we are.”

I blush at this, thinking in that moment of him playing on the floor with a small gathering of children, dark and light hair mixed together and laughter on the air.

“Then there is Henry, the spare, and also a scholar. He prefers the company of books to people. You will be lucky to get more than five words out of him unless it is to discuss the latest treatise on the ancient philosophers or the newest development in astronomy. His wife is named Angelica and she is…well the Marquis prefers to pretend she does not even exist.”

“Why not?” I ask, oddly defensive on this Angelica’s behalf.

“Because she is a professor of science, although no one beyond our family knows it is her. She conducts her classes via correspondence and a series of guest lecturers. In truth her real work is in the laboratory and in writing about her discoveries. You cannot tell anyone of this, Miss Everdeen.”

“Because it would ruin your family’s reputation to have a woman professor of science?”

“No,” he says and stops walking. “That is why the Marquis would wish for your silence, but not I. I ask for it because were she to be found out, she would no longer be allowed to continue her work.”

“You trust me with this?” I ask and he nods.

“Somehow I cannot see you doing anything that might jeopardize a woman moving through a man’s world.”

“You have figured me out,” I say and continue walking to avoid the odd tears gathering in my eyes. That he would trust me with such a secret, almost as though he already sees me as part of the family.

“Not yet, but I do feel as though we have made some progress tonight.”

“So then do Henry and Angelica have any children?” I ask, ignoring the happy flutter his words cause, knowing that we both entered this evening with similar goals.

“They adopted one child, a girl named Emma who had been abandoned near the Marquis’ estates.”

“And your father does not approve.”

“Hardly. But he approves of very little.”

“Would he approve of me?” I ask and hold my breath.

“Likely not,” he whispers. I shiver in delight as one finger traces the designs up my arm, starting from my wrist. He stops at the elbow and withdraws his touch. “I apologize, Miss Everdeen. I should not be so bold.”

Again I feel a pull towards him, like in the portrait gallery. His father would not approve and yet he does not care. An urge to move closer nearly overpowers me and I divert once more. There is more I wish to know before I lose all sense and kiss him.

“So then after Henry is you.”

“Yes,” he still whispers. “If a second son is a spare, you can imagine how superfluous a third or fourth son are.”

“And what profession would you choose to make your way in the world? Your twin, as you call him, has already covered the military.”

This seems to surprise him and he moves away from me, coughs slightly to clear his throat. “Yes, Peeta does have that one covered. Perhaps the church.”

“Somehow I cannot see that,” I say and he laughs. “Your father then has steep expectations of all of you.”

“One could say that. He is not…not a warm or affectionate man. He is kinder to his children than most other people in the world, at least.”

“And what of your mother?”

“That is…let us not delve into that tonight.”

“Very well,” I concede, curious but not willing to push too far. “There is yet one brother we have not covered.”

“You really wish to know?” he asks with a strange bite in his tone, almost defensive and stronger than it was when he spoke of his sister, Angelica.

“You seem close to each other. I wish to know of the important people in your life, even if he was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” Even from behind the mask, I can see his eyes darken and narrow.

“The simple version of it is that he came to live with us when he was eleven. Before that, there were no real connections with him.” This surprises me and I know it shows on my face. “We were born on the same day, two years apart, Peeta is technically the older, although most people refer to him as the fourth son, the same man fathered us, and the Marchioness despises Peeta’s presence in the world and in her house. The only reason she tolerates him at all is because it is rather impossible to deny the blood connection given the physical similarities and because her husband ordered her to do so. Anything else, Miss Everdeen?”

“I do not mean to offend,” I gasp out, uncertain how this changed so quickly. I have never seen Sir Robert angry or indignant about anything. He seems to float through life for the most part, and for one moment, I think that now I truly see the brotherly similarities, right before he seems to wilt and shakes his head.

“No, it is I who should apologize. You are asking out of a desire to know more of the family, not to malign, are you not?”

“I am.” I swallow and think of what Madge said, about how Peeta protects Robert the way that I protect Prim. This new information, this detail about Peeta being older than Robert sheds new light on their relationship. I can envision a young Peeta being ushered into a school room and ordered to conform to the expectations of the son of a marquis, being held responsible for his younger and more privileged but also more gregarious younger brother. Sir Robert perhaps providing levity and fun while Peeta provided the steady seriousness required of them. I can picture him providing a solid buffer between Sir Robert and trouble, protecting him and plucking him from sticky situations. Protecting him from fortune hunting ladies who might take advantage and break his heart.

The image causes unwanted sensations and a phantom touch that graces my legs along with a deep whisper in my ear and I turn away for a moment to regain my bearings.

“Miss Everdeen?”

“I should apologize as well. He is your brother. And if your relationship with him is anything like mine is with my sister…then you would do anything to protect him, and he you.”

“I would,” he says, and it sounds so much like a vow that I smile. We understand each other then. And now we arrive at the real test.

“Then I have one more thing to confess to you and then I expect that dance.” He moves to stand behind me, keeping enough space that we do not touch, yet close enough that I can feel the atoms of the air moving between us, around us. I feel the space as a tangible thing and close my eyes as I speak. I whisper to keep the air around us from igniting.

“I am…marked, sir.”

“Marked? How so?”

“By fire. I was…very young. Fifteen. My sister had a cat that was meant to stay in the barn and catch mice. He was an excellent mouser. We dubbed him the defendender of the lambs and pigs.”

He laughs at this and I feel my heart lightening a little. Enough to tell him the rest.

“She turned him into her pet and would bring him inside in secret, whenever it stormed. When my parents were gone for several weeks, we stayed with our neighbors. Their daughter is still my closest friend and we would often pretend we were sisters ourselves.” I swallow and his fingers find mine, tracing between them then up over the back of my hand, the touch so intimate and comforting. With his touch, I find the courage to continue. “My sister smuggled the cat to the manor with her. While we were there, my friend…her father had recently suffered a severe reverse in his fortunes. He told no one and sealed a marriage contract for my friend to a complete stranger.” I pause to breathe and cannot seem to continue.

“The Countess?”

“Madge, yes,” I say and feel his head bend towards mine. The delicate touch of his forehead to my crown and the whisper of breath over my scalp.

“He…he took his own life and Madge was devastated. She vanished somewhere into the estate and no one could find her. I knew where she was hiding yet told no one, thinking she needed some time to herself to grieve. My sister thought differently and sought her out. That evening, a fire started. No one quite knows how, although Lady Undersee was quite ill before her husband died. She often complained of headaches and Madge always preferred spending time at our home. We were…not required to be quiet at Everdeen. Lord Undersee’s death seemed to break his wife and she secluded herself. Many suspect her mind simply gave up that night and…”

“And the fire grew out of control before anyone knew what had happened?”

I nod and his hold on my hand tightens, draws me in closer as he turns me to face him. I stare at his chest as I continue. “I made it outside, as did the servants. But my sister and Madge. They were still inside. So I went in after them. I found Madge first, since I knew where to find her. She told me that Prim had wandered off, chasing the cat who had been terrified by the flames. We searched for Prim but, a beam fell, separating me from Madge. I told her to make her way outside, eventually found my sister and the cursed cat. I broke a window to escape and the air… it fed the flames. My dressing gown caught without me knowing. We made it out, all of us, barely and…” I cannot finish and blink to keep my tears in my eyes. A mask will not afford me privacy from tears. A gentle touch slides beneath my chin and lifts my head. I dare not look at him, afraid of what I shall see in his eyes.

“You saved your sister, and your friend.”

“And was left marked. Disfigured. The doctors remarked how it was a blessing that the flames never touched my face and yet… My parents chose not to set me loose on society and instead kept me in the country, fearing that the world would turn away from me in disgust if they learned of my scars. Worst of all, my friend lost both her parents that week. Had we not needed to find my sister and that daft cat, perhaps we could have saved Madge’s mother instead.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt that, if what you say about her grief is true. What you did was incredibly brave and selfless, regardless of who you saved and who you could not save.”

“Incredibly stupid,” I contradict and finally look up at him to find a deep blue well of sadness staring down at me. He shakes his head slightly.

“The two are so often intertwined it is impossible to tell them apart. You risked your life for another and should not feel shame at the marks left on your body. It is nothing more than flesh. What is in your heart is far more important.”

That same organ speeds up at his words as his gaze shifts to my shoulder, the one covered in fabric. He tilts his head and smiles softly.

“This shoulder. The scars are on this shoulder, are they not? That is the reason for your unique gown design.”

“Yes,” I whisper as he releases my chin to trace the edge of the fabric. Heat burns through me to such a degree that I fear more scarring and yet do not want to turn back. He has revealed so much of his true nature from behind the safety of the mask tonight. It only seems fair I show him mine.

“May I?” he whispers and I nod once. He will see them eventually, after all. What difference does it make if it is tonight or our wedding night? There is a small part of me that braces for his disgust, despite his gentle words.

Slowly, he peels back the fabric, revealing my damaged skin. I shiver and take deep breaths that turn to soft gasps as his lips touch me. Soft. Warm. Gentle, and dare I say it? Loving. Sensations radiate through me, and my knees quake. He kisses over my scars, then back up to my neck. “I should stop.”

“No, please,” I gasp and let go his hand to grab hold of his sleeves. The world pitches and tilts as he kisses beneath my ear and groans.

“Katniss.”

I smile and shudder beneath his kisses. It is the first time he has spoken my name and I sound beautiful and cherished on his tongue. I can easily imagine a lifetime of hearing my name whispered thus in the night. He knows me now and it thrills me beyond measure as his hand slides up my bodice to cradle my face and his kisses trail over my jaw in a slow burn towards my lips, even as his other hand soothes the memory of burns and pain in gentle strokes over ravaged skin.

“I wish you had never had to feel such agony. Never been called upon to be so brave so young.”

I tilt my head as though on instinct, heart pounding as his clean scent fills my head and the warmth of his lips tempts me deeper into this tryst. And I need to know. I wish that I could do it. Wed and bed with no feeling. Keep my marriage to business and contracts. Practical and cold, but I cannot. I need to know there will be some comfort, some connection at least if not love. His hand squeezes my shoulder and his lips swerve over my cheek, back towards my ear where he almost nibbles, taunting me.

“Never allow anyone to lead you to believe that you…” his kisses return towards my mouth just to the corner as I pant and cling to him, wishing for something I cannot name, afraid of wanting it so deeply. “…are anything less than exquisite.”

He breathes the words between my parted lips and still does not kiss them. I smile and shake my head, his hold on me gentle enough to allow the motion with ease.

“Such pretty words, but do you mean them?”

“Their beauty lies in their truth.”

It takes great effort to open my eyes and look into his. I can only stand it for a second before I pitch upwards and kiss him on his red stained lips. For one second he turns rigid as a statue, his grip on my shoulder tight and almost painful now. What did he expect with all the words and touches we have already shared tonight? I thought he wanted this as well and retreat, immediately humiliated and shamed. Perhaps it was a terrible kiss. It is my first, after all. Perhaps like riding a horse, kissing is a skill that takes practice. Or perhaps he truly is scandalised by my boldness. Tears prick at me but his hold is iron and I cannot escape, though I admit my attempts are feeble.

“Forgive me,” he moans and then his hand slides into my hair, his arm wraps around me and his lips join with mine again, crushing my small sound of surprise between us. His lips caress over mine and the sound melts into a soft moan that echoes down to my toes. My arms wrap around his neck, my body pressed to his, seeking more of whatever this delicious feeling coursing through me is.

So then this is what they whisper about behind laundry tubs and changing screens. Silken whispers of desire and passion and fire. Kisses that brand and claim and leave you wanting for more. He is everything in this moment. Everything that I want and need and crave. Bodily temptation and sustenance for my starving soul. Rapture. I feel my spine arch, molding my body to his. His lips on mine, gently demanding an answer.

Yes! I want to scream. Yes! a thousand times over to the thundering of my heart in my breast.

Something wet traces my lips and I shiver in delight, hands grasping bunches of fabric when he lifts his head to whisper to me.

“Open your mouth. Please, my pearl, open your mouth and let me taste you.” My lips part on a deep breath, a little stunned at the tendril of desperation in his tone and the salacious suggestion. His thumb traces my lower lip, tugging it down for a second. “Exquisite.”

And then I’ve no room for thinking. His lips drink every breath or word I might exhale. His tongue learns the shape of my lips. He swallows my stunned desperate gasp and then his tongue is in my mouth, hot and giving and greedy all at once. Taking and demanding but somehow bestowing far more than he takes. My body sags against him, relieved and overwhelmed, made boneless at the feel of him exploring and tasting, at the invitation I feel in his kisses to reciprocate.

Let me taste you, he had said. I slide my hands into his hair and boldly swipe my tongue past his into his mouth. He grunts and then retreats, drawing me in deeper. Inviting me to take control. My head spins and I accept the invitation. Kissing him as deeply as he kissed me. His hot exhales burn from his nose over my cheeks and then…

He steps back, hands gripping my shoulders and holding me away from him. His breaths heavy in the fragrant night.

“No. We cannot.”

“Why not?” I ask, voice trembling as cracks open across my heart. Tonight, for the first time, I have felt close to and possibly as though I could love the man I am meant to marry. More so than any moment before this, and yet he wants to withdraw. “We are to be married soon, Robert, remember? Or did you not mean your proposal this morning? We will spend the rest of our lives together. Why is it wrong for me to wonder about this? To seek an answer?”

“What?” He shakes his head and releases me, stepping back out of my grasp, towards the shadows. Silence stretches between us as I watch his shoulders sag, as though defeated. “It is not wrong. Your curiosity and need for an answer is not wrong.” His voice trembles in a way I cannot identify. “Did you find your answer?”

“Yes. Did you?” I ask, reaching for my dress to pull the sleeve back in place. He reaches for me and then seems to think better of it, pulling his hand back as though burned.

“I did,” he says, although his voice cracks. He sounds miserable. “Katniss, please forgive me.”

That is the second time he has beseeched me thus. Before I can tell him that I do not understand why I need forgive him, he steps towards me and touching me with only his lips, kisses me one more time. Brief. Passionate. Desperate. And then over.

“Exquisite. The man who marries you is the most fortunate bastard in the world,” he whispers. “Never let him forget that.”

Then he disappears, leaving me burning and reeling and somehow giddy. One crazed laugh escapes my lips and I cover my mouth to contain it. To hold in the heat of his kisses for just a moment longer. I take another moment to secure my cowl, to set my dress and mask to rights, and then I march back into the mansion with a spring in my step. I catch one flash of blonde curls shimmering in the candle light as he departs the ball, bowing to the Duchess and saying something that makes her smile and laugh before he disappears into the night.

I hope that he will dream of me tonight and then scold myself for such fanciful thoughts. Ours is still a marriage of convenience. And yet, our time together, his kisses tonight suggest possibilities. Hope lifts me high into dreams of a future. Could I be so fortunate as to have stumbled my way into a love match?

I am still pondering it when I collapse in the carriage after the ball, keeping my face as stoic as possible while Effie prattles on with the gossip. Haymitch grunts at intervals, pretending to listen. Madge examines me from across the carriage and it takes all my efforts to not blush or burst into a fit of giggles under her examination, especially when I see that all three of my family members in the carriage wear red stains on their lips. I hold it together until we are changed for bed and the maids have left us alone. Then I cannot and when Madge arches one eyebrow at me, I collapse into bed and squeal into my pillow.

“Now you really have to explain yourself,” she says. I feel the weight of her joining me on the mattress and turn my head to smile, uncaring how ridiculous I look.

“He kissed me.”

“And?” she prompts when I say no more. A sigh escapes me unbidden and Madge smiles. “That good?”

“It was…exquisite,” I tell her and she shoves me.

“You little minx! Tell me more than that.” We talk late into the night, into the early morning hours as I share my secrets with her. She takes my hand in hers as we yawn and drift closer to sleep as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. “I am happy for you, Katniss. I wish you happiness and love together. Truly this venture turned out much better than I expected when we left Everdeen.”

“It truly has,” I say and squirm deeper into the covers for warmth. What will it be like to sleep beside my husband? I shall find out soon, although perhaps not soon enough. I think of the announcement no doubt waiting to be printed in the papers and of Father back home.

The thought dampens my good mood. I need to return. While I’ve been drinking punch, laughing over portraits, and kissing a man, my father suffers and my mother languishes. Such liberties I allowed him tonight! Here in my bed, shame overwhelms the joy I felt in his arms. I was not aware that one could kiss by caressing tongues until this evening and it seems such a brazen thing for me to have allowed him on our first kiss. Guilt follows, rising up inside me, swirling together with an unpleasant mixture of feelings in my breast. I have been selfish and now that I have accomplished what I set out to do, I must focus on my duties.

Perhaps Robert will agree to a hasty wedding and damn the gossips, or perhaps I should leave the wedding planning in Effie’s hands while I return home and see to some business as well as my family. Surely a long engagement cannot hurt.

I slip into slumber, resolved to speak to him about it tomorrow.

To be continued…

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #prompt 88 #m

104 notes · View notes

itsnicetohavealoverr · 5 years

Text

Really obnoxiously long explanation of my time as a Swifite:

The first Taylor song I ever heard was “Our Song” when I was in 5th grade and my friend wanted to learn guitar and showed me a video of the song. I was hooked.

Fast forward, Fearless is released and You Belong With Me is an ANTHEM among us middle schoolers. We’d sing it at every school dance, we made up our own routines to it, and we loved pretending it was about our own crushes.

My mom bought me the Fearless CD and we listened to it NONSTOP in the car together. For Christmas that year, my mom got me Fearless Tour tickets and I was SO SO SO HAPPY. And the same year, my (now deceased) aunt bought me the debut CD so I could learn every song and prepare for the concert. My aunt and cousins were from Tennessee and my cousin Mitch is the same age as Taylor and actually knows the kid who Tim McGraw was written about!!!

Fearless Tour was incredible and I waited anxiously for her next album. I was one of the few swifties who probably remember signing up for Taylor Nation alerts via text when the number came up on the Jumbotron at the Fearless tour 😂

I was one of the swifties on the Speak Now announcement live stream and I SQUEALED when Taylor’s face popped up on my computer.

For Speak Now release week, my mom took me and my best friend to the TODAY show at 2am to see Taylor perform. I hoped and prayed that she would come say hi to us in the back of the crowd, but no such luck.

For the Speak Now Tour, a few of my friends and all of our moms and I went together and tailgated and drew 13s on our hands. We danced and screamed the whole time. Some of my friends were being rude and clique-y that day but I had seats with my BEST friend and her mom and sisters and we had such a good time together it was amazing.

When RED was announced, I was on vacation with my cousins and I think we blasted WANEGBT for the entire week, 24 hours a day. We even made a cute little music video for it 😂😂😂

I begged my mom to take me to release week for RED, but her one sister had just passed away from breast cancer and the other had just died in a car accident and she couldn’t take off any more work :( I was so devastated but I totally understood where she was coming from. It was a hard year for all of us.

RED Tour was the first tour I didn’t go to with my mom. The tickets were a birthday present and I got to go with a few of my best friends. We had such a good time and I think I cried during half of the show 😂

1989 was the era that really changed things for me. I of course tuned into the livestream and waited with anticipation for this album that became the soundtrack of my senior year of high school. My dad this time was the one who brought me and my best friend to GMA to watch Taylor perform during release week in Times Square. That was such a magical day. I couldn’t even believe it was real.

For 1989 Tour, my moms boyfriend upgraded me and my friends’ seats to floor seats as a graduation present to us. We got all dressed up for the show and when we got there, I was so incredibly sick with a bad case of salmonella that I spent most of the opening acts in the bathroom. I didn’t know if I would make it through the whole show. But when Taylor came on, my adrenaline kicked in and I stood up dancing and singing to every song and had string lights wrapped around my whole body to try to get Taylor’s attention. I was only a few rows away from the couple who got married at the show and I watched them get chosen for Loft ‘89!

Shortly after 1989 World Tour, my bf broke up with me and I had one of the hardest summers of my life. I struggled with depression and anxiety and I decided to make a tumblr so I could try to connect with Taylor because I had heard how she helped so many fans through this site.

I ended up finding a community of people that helped get me through that tough time, even if I never got a Taylor notice.

I went to college and got a new boyfriend and he broke my heart shortly after. I spent hours on tumblr reading and watching Clean speeches and writing to Taylor hoping she might someday notice me.

I struggled for over a year. I almost committed suicide multiple times. I got mono and was ordered to bed rest for a week while I was also wallowing in my heartbreak and feeling lower than I’d ever felt. One particularly bad day, I was really wanting to end it all and Better Man was released. That song right there yanked me out of my dark place and let me know I wasn’t alone. I will forever be grateful for those words that Taylor wrote in that song.

I continued to struggle, I was turned on by my best friends and was mocked by my ex boyfriend. I was in another super super dark place when Reputation was released.

Look What You Made Me Do could not have been released at a better time. I was battling my own depression and anxiety, coping with my heartbreak, and being bullied by so many of my “friends”, and that song made me feel like a Bad Bitch and I felt I could rise from the ashes just like Taylor.

I had been saved yet again by Ms. Swift. I went to THREE reputation shows and poured my heart and soul into costumes and outfits. It was such an incredible era. I adopted a dog who saved my life. I found new love that made me feel like I was finally worth it. I was happy again! Truly, truly happy.

And now we are here at Lover. I already adore the few songs I’ve heard on the album. ME! is a wonderful reminder that we’re all a little messed up in our own ways but we’re ultimately unique and special and we should celebrate that. YNTCD is a great anthem for saying “F U Haters!” And The Archer helps me know that my insecurities and doubts are valid, that my anxiety can try to control my life, but that we can push past it and find someone really worth holding onto.

Taylor, this is a really long way to tell you how much I love you and how I always have and always will. You have saved me so many times and I want to thank you for making me feel less alone. I want so badly to hug you someday and tell you all of this, but for now I’m just so glad that we’re both in better places and have surrounded ourselves with people who care.

Thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you buddy!!! @taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylurking #i love you taylor #secret sessions #reputation #taylornation #reputation era #taylor swift 1989 #fearless #speak now #RED #LOVER

4 notes · View notes

feel199x · 5 years

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ VII

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X masterlist

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, band!au, florist!reader

a/n: this chapter is written from a different perspective again;;; also seven chapters but the series is almost coming to a close!

warnings: blood and gun mention, cussing, angst but fluff if u squint hard enough

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

Minho was the first person Jisung had called, Minho was always the first person Jisung would call. Jisung was bleeding pretty badly, gripping his thigh as he sat behind a counter. He couldn’t go to the hospital, not with everything he thought he had done- so he just sat there, waiting for Minho. Jisung cried because he couldn’t do anything but wait, there was nothing else he was capable of doing. He couldn’t take care of himself, so he waited for Minho. And because he was waiting for Minho, there was nothing he could do to help you- so, he had to wait. Jisung was never good at waiting, patience was not something he was fond of. If he wanted to do something, to understand something- to be good at something, he needed that to happen urgently. Because of that, he tended to drop habits quickly, before he could really tell if he was truly good or bad at something. He only really learned patience after you, watching and observing you. You didn’t complain when he was gone, never scolded him for having other responsibilities. Even after having the only things you really cared about taken away, you didn’t rush to have the construction finished or the insurance to pay you back. Jisung was crying harder now, wiping away his tears with bloody hands as the record continued to play. He didn’t want it to keep playing, but he also didn’t have the heart to stop it.

Minho had arrived as soon as he could, running red lights and avoiding as many cops as he could. Jisung’s eyes were getting heavy as Minho put him in the back of the group’s car.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“I don’t know, it was probably N/S.”

“Oh fuck, you don’t actually think-?”

“Where’s ___?”

Jisung could barely keep track of the conversation and who was speaking, but when he heard your name, he sputtered out a weak answer.

“He took them.”

Jisung couldn’t make sense of the loud conversation after that, just trying to focus on staying awake until they reached the hide-out.

“Jisung, this is Chan, okay? I’m going to clean the wound and take the bullet it out. It’s going to hurt.”

“Woojin, get the cloth ready. Minho, keep him quiet until we get to the hide out.”

Chan was cutting the fabric of Jisung’s pant leg to find the wound. It was only a slight graze, and the wound wasn’t very deep. Still, Jisung was bleeding with more blood than they could manage. “He’s bleeding too much, I don’t know if he’ll make it-”

“Letting him die is not a fucking option!”

“Here, okay- let’s calm down- Chan, I’ll stop the bleeding, just get the tweezers ready.”

The song from the record was still playing in Jisung’s head as he weakly hummed along. He wasn’t making sense of what happened, he didn’t want to make sense of what was happening. He just missed you. He wanted to hold your hand, feel it’s softness in his and he wanted to peck your lips- he wanted to do so much more than time allowed him. Jisung was still crying, soft tears streaming down the sides of his face and he could feel it pool in the creases of his ears.

“Fuck, there’s someone following us- Chan hurry up before they-!”

“You wanna come down here an-”

“Shit!”

Jisung wanted to sing, he wanted to rap, and he wanted to dance. How could all of these things be taken away from him? Why were the only things that mattered slipping away from his hands? He worked so hard to get here, he got restless whenever he couldn’t finish a lyric or nail a dance move. He wouldn’t stop until he perfected them, because really, that’s the only thing he did have patience for- the only thing he would practice until all his bones turned to dust.

“Felix, Seugmin, pop your head out the window and sh-.”

“Are you insane?”

“Just do it!”

“Hyunjin, step on it- lose them.”

Jisung’s eyes were getting heavier by the second, drifting in an out of consciousness. It felt like he was in a dream state, he couldn’t even feel the pain from his thigh anymore. It felt okay like everything was okay because none of it seemed real anyway.

“Jisung, please, please stay awake, okay? You have so much to live through, stay awak-”

“I can’t lose them, they’re right on our ass.”

“Felix-!”

“Kinda hard to shoot their tires when we’re going a hundred and fifty miles per fucking hour!”

Someone squeezed his hand, but Jisung’s eyes were already drooping. At the very least, Jisung was before he felt a shooting pain go up his thigh, pain like he had never experienced before- not even the last time he was shot. So, he screamed.

“Minho-.”

“On it. Sorry, Jisung.”

Jisung went to pull off the hand on his mouth, muffling his screams. But his body couldn’t take the stress, going limp from everything that had gone down in less than half an hour.

“Jisung? Jisung-!”

---

It had only been a week later when Jisung had finally woken up. Minho hadn’t left Jisung’s side, everyone lingering around the bed and room. They only really left to make something to eat, but returned to the bedroom when they were finished, refusing to leave Jisung out of their usual activities. Minho kept checking Jisung’s pulse nearly every hour, to comfort himself with the slow but significant beating pulse of Jisung’s arm. Everyone was scared out of their minds, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. Somehow, this situation seemed a lot worse than the previous time. Chan hadn’t known anything about medicine then, and it was only by a miracle that they were able to take out the bullet. But that wasn’t the only problem. Eventually, the group had to leave, they had to face the music. Tension only seemed to grow thicker the longer they isolated themselves out of society, and they all had responsibilities that unfortunately, couldn’t be abandoned.

“I think that maybe we could negotiate with him, right?”

“He shot Jisung, he wanted to kill him. And plus, are you forgetting about ___? Who’s going to report them as missing persons?”

“Minho’s right, Chan. Maybe this is out of our hands.”

Both of the boys looked back at Woojin, impatience and displease in their eyes. “We won’t be able to make music if we’re all in jail. Plus, we,” Minho gestured to everyone in the room, “haven’t killed anybody or even attempted to.”

“Right, we can stop selling- that’s what we’ll tell them.”

“What about ___?” Jisung asked quietly, voice emerging from the bed. Everyone in the room rushed to his bedside, clambering on to sit beside or around him. “We can talk about that later,” Jeongin spoke, “Are you okay?” Mutters of agreement flooded the room, a variety of ‘are you okay’s and ‘how are you feeling?’ was asked without breaks, overlapping one another as they spoke.

“How long have I been out?” Jisung asked, “Did you find ___?”

“A week,” Minho answered calmly, “and no. Not yet, the guy went rogue. We’re working on a negotiation.”

The room went quiet as everyone watched for Jisung’s reaction.

“I’m sorry,” his voice didn’t waver, firm like never before, “for making a mess, for putting you all through this.”

“Hey,” Chan patted Jisung’s back, “it’s not your fault. We’re all at fault here.”

Jisung moved to get up, ignoring the throbbing pain from his thigh. “You need to take your time,” Minho said sharply, “If you push yourself before you’re ready, you’re just going to fall apart. Who are you going to help them.”

“Love you too, Minho.”

“Then stay in bed, and we’ll get you some food.”

But Jisung was unnerved, as much as he wanted to focus on himself and pace himself to be in his best condition to come and help you- you were all he could think about. Even as he ate, light, distracting conversation filling the room, the record’s song still floated through his memory. He could still feel his head resting against your chest as you stroked his hair. He wish he could have prepared, done something to have prevented the situation.

But there was nothing he could’ve done, nothing indeed.

Minho knew that Jisung would be beating himself up. When Jisung was younger, everytime something bad happened- he would cry and cry. After he found the dead baby bird, he insisted on giving it a proper burial in a special place in the playground. The boys begrudgingly joined, not wanting Jisung to mourn the death all alone. Even after they had made a special box and a stone grave, even after they dug a shallow hole and buried it, Jisung lingered around the tree. He insisted that he was okay, just making sure that no one would dig the baby bird back up. But no one commented when they saw him wipe silent childish tears off his cheeks when they all had to go back to class. Jisung got rejected, and often. But instead of feeling bitterness towards the person, or trying to pursue them again- he beat himself up. He was a hopeless romantic, teddy bear inside and out- believing he would meet ‘the one’ soon. But that didn’t make the rejection hurt less, because, in his mind, something had to be wrong with him in order for him to get rejected all these times.

“Minho, what if my soulmate rejects me?”

“Then they’re not your soulmate, Jisung. Anyone who rejects you isn’t worth your time.”

Jisung knew that what Minho was saying had some truth to it, but at the time he just couldn’t see himself fall in love. Not because he had sworn off of it, but he was just so busy these days, breathing, eating, and sleeping music. It felt like his youth was slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sands of times. And he loved it, he did. It was his dream to be successful in music, and he was, they were. Even if their start was less than graceful, they didn’t even need the drug bribe to convince people to come listen to their music anymore, people were genuinely interested in their music. So, the thought of love was eventually pushed into the depths of his mind,

Until he entered your flower shop.

He was just picking up flowers for his grandmother, he didn’t expect anything special to happen. The truth was, he was slacking off on visiting his grandmother- so his parents called him, urging to pay her a visit. The first thing his grandmother did was make him go on a bunch of errands, with the promises of good food if he had gotten everything done without getting distracted. And what was a better motivator than food? Only love.

He had expected to see an elderly lady like his grandmother running the shop, but instead, he saw you putting flowers into a vase, and his first reaction was to hide behind a pot of flowers. But the windchimes at the door betrayed him, and you had called out to him, asking if he needed any help. Jisung believed in love at first sight, and this? This was love at first sight.

“Jisung!” Minho snapped Jisung out of his thoughts, “We don’t have time, you need to follow me.”

“Minho-?”

“Jisung, we don’t have time!”

There was nothing he could’ve done to prepare, nothing indeed.

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz angst #stray kids han #skz imagines #skz fic #skz fluff #skz han jisung #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines

37 notes · View notes

iamrheaspeaks · 6 years

Text

You Owe Me!

I haven’t written shit in years and prose isn't really my genre but this is happening 🤷🏾‍♀️ I’m forcing myself to post. Lightly proofread. But anyway, here’s my little OC! baby...

A/N: Bold italics are song lyrics

Word Count: ~1750

Warnings: None?!

Milly had been running on autopilot all day. Only getting four hours of sleep, and didn’t have time to smoke before work. Plus, she was just sick of being affected by everyone’s negative energy. You could understand why she couldn’t wait to just get home and shower away the filth of all things today. Ishe was still sleep in bed when Milly got in, “Let me tip toe my way into the bathroom”, she thought to herself.

As the hot water from the shower ran over her, Milly started to feel less bogged down from today’s events. Finally letting out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding on to. Her whole body relaxing as the tension washed away down the drain with the suds. After finishing the rest of her shower routine Milly makes her way into their bedroom. Ishe’s now awake, sitting in bed watching dumbass fight videos on WorldStar.

“How was work?” Ishe asked not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“Absolute shit! The fucking AC broke in the whole damn building and there was mandatory staff training today. Being stuck in a room full of sweaty balls, desperation and body heat is a FUCKING nightmare”! Milly recants as she searched through the small pile of clothes on her side of the bed for a specific pair of pajama shorts. As Milly continues to rant Ishe begins to make his way over to the desk in the opposite corner of the room.

“Damn!” Ishe manages to squawk out before silently laughing, suddenly more glad that he was off today. And he would never admit it but it was kinda turning him on, “Imma load up Coral for you so you can get some down time. Sounds like you need it”! He turns to face forward in the seat to continue loading when he adds on, “Plus, I’m kinda scared for my boys” losing focus again and instinctively grabbing his junk with his non-dominant hand. Looking at her briefly through the mirror Ishe begins taking in just how compromising Milly’s current position is. Bent over at the waist totally oblivious to her surroundings, head deep in a pile of clothes that all happened to be varying shades of black, completely nude.

“You should be!” Milly chuckled while rolling her eyes at his half-failed attempt to lighten the mood. Coral is Milly’s three-piece; 3D printed stackable water pipe. Couldn’t 100% compare to the glass piece she normally used but it was a good conversation starter. And the bitch hit, HARD! “Anyway…thank you! I’m probably gonna take a hit or two, clear my Instagram and then come down stairs so we can finally go out and do the food shopping”. Ishe already in motion to the door at this point since he was done with Coral, paused slightly to look over his shoulder back to her with his left eyebrow raised, “Bet!”

“Damn!” Ishe says to himself looking at the time on his phone and realizing that Milly is probably dead to the world. On his way to use the bathroom he peaks his head in the room to see and sure enough, she was knocked out. “Food shopping my ass”, Ishe thought to himself continuing to head to the bathroom. On his way out, after having decided to just go to the store without her Ishe stopped to take in the sight before him. Milly was sprawled out on the bed in nothing but a pair black running shorts with a pink trimming. They accentuated her ass, which made them his favorite. The lack of a top left Milly’s back tattoo on display. Full sized angel wings with the quote “angels speak to those who silence their minds long enough to hear” in script tracing along her spine pulling the whole piece together. Of all her tattoos this was the one that made Ishe worship the ground Milly walked on. It was mostly because of the deliberate imperfections she had the tattoo artist incorporate. Milly was adamant about the wings looking frayed and slightly scorched. Burned even, as if she literally fell from heaven. She had fallen asleep with her phone in her right hand and with her left on the side of her face making it look like she was adjusting her glasses. Feeling his dick twitch Ishe stuck his tongue out, licking his bottom lip while looking to his phone for the time. “Fuck! Let me get this damn store before it get busy.” Ishe thinks to himself running down the stairs. Ignoring his slight erection.

Shameful to say she woke up about 3 hours later to a quite house and messages from Ishe.

Ishe:

You owe me!

I had to go food shopping by myself 😭

I’ll be back soon though. I’m down the street catching up with Ace. I love you miss!

Still kinda groggy she rereads his messages before dragging the screen from right to left so she could see the time stamp. Eyes shooting to the top of the screen at the time, “FUCK!” Milly shouted while sitting up and fixing her glasses. “Did I really just knock out for 3 fucking hours? What the fuck?” She questioned as her fingers hovered over the phone momentarily thinking of what to finally reply to Ishe.

Milly:

I’m sorry daddy! I guess I was more tired than I thought. Love you too! 💋

Milly smiled to herself as the message sent. She then proceeds to grab one of Ishe’s oversized shirts that she’s claimed and made her way the kitchen to find something to eat. Waking up with the munchies is a bitch!

“…I, I'm a do you dirty/ Say you love me now, baby, it's too early/ I, I'm a do you dirty/ You think you love me now, I think you should be worried…” Milly was dancing around the kitchen shoving her face with fruit while singing along to Kehlani’s “Do U Dirty” when Ishe returned home with Ace in tow. Ace was Ishe’s good friend he met a couple jobs ago and they just stayed in touch. Plus, he was pretty reliable when your personal connect was out of town. The three smoked, chilled and blurted out their random stoner thoughts while watching Ridiculousness. And would all slightly cringe every time Chanel laughed uncontrollably.

Milly can’t really register when it happened but eventually she was gone to the point where the only things on her mind were sex and sleep. Thinking to herself “Yup, I’m definitely fucking high”! Immediately after the image of riding the shit out Ishe popped into her head. Biting her lip, her core clamped down on nothing, just as her bundle of nerves pulsed at the thought simultaneously. Making it even harder to push the now intrusive images out her mind.

“…I'm your doctor, when in need/ Want some coke, have some weed/ You know me, I'm your friend…” Curtis Mayfield’s “Pusherman” suddenly blaring from Ace’s plug phone finally broke Milly out her thoughts. She looked up to see Ishe staring at her. Her eyes grew wide as her clouded mind registered that she was squeezing her thighs together. And to make things worse, she was still biting her bottom lip. Ishe raises his eyebrow and glides his tongue across his bottom lip when their eyes meet. The motion causing Milly to shutter in her seat as a chill ran up her spine under his hungry gaze. She could feel his eyes undressing her but couldn’t will herself to look away. Ishe was the first to break the intense glance, to look over at Ace. The sound of his voice made his presence remembered.

“Yeah I got you ma. Give me 15” Ace responding to the person on the phone before hanging up, “Yo, Ishe, I’ll catch you later bruh. This fine girl that found me on Instagram tryna buy a quarter”. “Uh huh nigga. Whatever.” Ishe responds with a half smirk, it’s obvious he didn’t believe Ace at all. “You are such a man whore Ace! Don’t let your bad guy antics rub off on Ishe or we gonna be fightin!” Milly interjected while gathering things for their retreat upstairs since their company was leaving. Ishe and Ace both side eyed each other before letting out a huge laugh looking back at Milly. Ace responding to her threat, “You know I learned everything I know from YO nigga right?” thumb pointing to her beau. Ishe fake gasped and clutched his imaginary pearls before backhanding Ace in the arm catching him off guard, “Don’t be telling my girl that shit man!” Milly just shock her head at their childishness and continued her way up the stairs.

Ishe finally begin to go upstairs after playing Xbox Live with his cousin for a few games of Black Ops. Milly’s knocked out clutching a stuffed elephant from Ikea in the center of the bed with the light and TV on. Abandoning the shorts she looked so hard for back into the pile, now only wearing Ishe’s shirt. Left leg bent at the knee causing the shirt to rise up, leaving her ass fully exposed. The sight alone was teasing Ishe, almost daring him to do something. The buzz from the weed was starting to fully take over along with the feeling of his dick making his pants tight once again. Ishe couldn’t help but to act on the images that flashed through his mind while staring down at Milly from the doorway.

Slowly moving to hover over Milly, Ishe further examined the current state of his lover. Her copper colored skin was begging to be caressed. Her thick thighs untouched by any marks or ink. Full round bottom looking inviting as fuck. Ishe’s hand twitched as the urge to smack it came over him, “Not yet” he thought bringing his slight inner turmoil to a halt. Bypassing what was underneath that shirt for now, he started to make Milly stir underneath him. Ishe showered her with deliberate and needy kisses along the back and right side of her neck. When Ishe gently sucked on that sweet spot right behind Milly’s ear it earned him a sleepy moan right before Milly let out a weak “Mmm?” before scrunching up her face and prying her eyes open. Attempting to familiarize herself with the now pitch black bedroom. Just as she’s starting to come to, Milly’s whole body grows stiff as Ishe leans back down barely hovering over her with his mouth a feather’s touch away from her ear. “I told you...You owe me!” Ishe’s voice deep but barely above a whisper as he slowly inched inside of her…

Final Notes:

I’m a sucker for unisex names with interesting meanings 🙃

Milly- Latin origin: means hard worker of gentle strength

Ishe- African origin: means God, lord or leader

@savagesensitivity @another-imaginesblog @cancerianprincess

#rheaspeaks #my writing #my words #my work #you owe me #original characters #this is longer than i expected #milly x ishe #called out #out of my element #here it is #overwhelemed #i had to force myself to post this #i almost deleted the whole thing #rheaspeaks masterlist

35 notes · View notes