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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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daydream-disposal · 3 years

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Wormhole

Steve is laying on his bed wearing his pyjamas, his eyes droopy and his mind hazy with tiredness but still, he insists on texting his friends. A normal tuesday, it appears.

Until suddenly, a big blue ring light starts to shine out of nowhere in the middle of his room. Steve sits on the bed, eyes wide. Suddenly a person gets out from inside the light. A boy about his height, his big honey eyes hiding behind his dark hair that was covering almost all of his freckled face. He was wearing black pants, a white button up and a coat. He looked drenched but still, he looked very handsome.

Is Steve too sleep deprived? Is he dreaming? Is he imagining this? He doesn't know.

"Oh thank god, it's you" the boy holds Steve's shoulders and kisses his cheek quickly, dropping a little device on the bed beside him.

"Um. Hello? W-who are you?" Steve freezes, trying to understand what just happened. He's not imagining it then, since the kiss felt very real. He would've blushed if the situation wasn't really scary.

"What? It's me. I guess I might look a little different, I've been traveling around for a while. Ugh my clothes are gross. I'm just gonna change real quick, okay?" the guy rambles walking to Steve's closet and opening the door. He searches for something, getting all his clothes out of the way. Steve frowns. What the fuck is this dude doing?

"Did you move my stuff again?"

"I literally don't know what you're talking about." Steve slowly gets up and walks towards the door.

"C'mon Steve, stop messing around, they were right here" he half laughs and keeps searching. A shiver goes down Steve's spine. He knows his name. Is he a spy? An alien? Is he here to harm him? Steve grabs his bat carefully and places it on his neck.

"I'd appreciate if you stopped messing with my stuff and left. I don't know who you are and why you're here! Just leave me alone!" he says with a rough voice.

Eli turns to face Steve, ready to laugh and ask 'what is this, a prank?' but his smile drops as soon as he sees Steve with the bat and a serious expression.

"Steve, calm down! It's me, your best friend, Eli Pepperjack. Do you seriously not recognize me?"

"Wrong! My best friend is Jim Lake and everybody knows that. I've never seen you before in my life!"

Steve and Jim being best friends??? Something is definitely Not Right. Eli looks around in disbelief. Now that he notices, Steve looks... younger. The room looks different too. It's the same style, but the colors are all wrong. He peeks outside the window and the street is slightly different too. Oh my god.

Did he just travelled to a parallel universe? One that Steve doesn't know him? He knew the wormhole could do that, but only on command! How did it malfunctioned so badly??

Steve adjusts his hands on the bat, getting Eli out of his thoughts.

"Wait! Wait! I can explain! I can prove that I know you!"

Steve considers, still not moving from the position he's in. The boy seems scared but somehow his eyes are shining, inviting. Steve sighs.

"Ok. Go on." he raises an eyebrow, curiously.

"Your favorite color is blue. You favorite food is pancakes. You can't have spicy food. You had a crush on Claire Nunes"

"Those are really basic and you could easily be lying. Or spying on me! And everybody had a crush on Claire!" Steve shouts, losing his patience.

"Okay, look." Eli reaches for his back pocket, taking out his wallet and handing Steve a picture of them hugging and smiling, doing the Creepslayerz hand gesture to the camera.

"You like nerdy movies like Gun Robot and Earth Invaders in secret because you don't want people to know. You don't know basic math but that's alright because you're a really great actor and you're very good at sports. Sometimes you let your insecurities get to you and that's why you act like you're superior to everyone else. But you're actually a really nice person. You care a lot about people, so much that you saved my life a thousand times before. You're funny and brave and I love you for that" Eli blurted out without even thinking.

"Wow, okay, that's scary. How is all of this possible?" He puts the bat down and stares at the picture, not believing what he's seeing.

"It's possible because I was traveling through that thing" Eli points to the wormhole device on the bed. Steve reaches it and throws it his way.

"Thanks. It's a wormhole, it's extraterrestrial technology. I've been living in another planet but I try to visit as much as I can. It malfunctioned this time. I'm guessing I ended up in a parallel universe" Eli says matter of factly, clicking the device on his hand. A blue hologram appears in front of them. Steve doesn't recognize the language on it.

"Hold up, are you telling me I'm dating an alien?"

"I literally just told you I'm from another universe and you decided to focus on that?"

"Well yeah" he shrugged.

Eli sighed, smiling.

"No, I'm human. I'm Earth's ambassador on the planet Arkiridion-5."

"Ok but are we dating...?" Steve blushes at him.

"Yes. We are."

"Oh sweet! Point for the Palchuk!" He punched the air. Eli laughs through his nose, shaking his head but still focused on the device.

"Can I ask you some questions?"

"Yeah, go on"

"How did it happen... How did we even... do it?" Steven didn't know how to ask this, but as if he was reading his mind, the brown haired boy answered quickly.

"Well, when we started getting close people just assumed. But our families are okay with it, if that's what you're asking"

"Cool. Alright." Steve knew he was bi for a long time now. He was just afraid of telling his family and friends. What if they got disappointed? What if they couldn't love him? What if he was left behind?

"How will I know if they're like this here too?" Steve asked in a quiet voice after a few seconds of silence and just the bleeping of the device.

"I'm pretty sure they love you in every universe. I know I do." Eli sinceraly stated, not even looking up. Steve had a hard time believing someone cared about him and loved him enough to say something so soft like that. He looked at the picture on his hands again. They were sharing a smile so genuine, their eyes meeting in such a sweet way, like they meant the whole world to each other.

"And how did we meet?" he leaned on the closet, crossing his arms. Eli just kept clicking away.

"At school. We didn't like each other at first, but we figured it out" he exhaled. "Took a while, but we did."

"Why? What happened?"

Eli thought about the years his Steve used to be mean at him and shove him into lockers. It was sad, but he knew there was good in him. Maybe this Steve could do it differently.

"Just... be nice."

"I am nice!" Eli stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow on Steve's direction. "Alright, I'll be nicer."

"Good. What year is it?"

"2018"

"Woah, okay, I'm so far off." he clicked a few more times, the big blue ring light popping up in the middle of the room again.

"Wait, you're leaving already?"

"Yeah. My Steve is waiting for me at home."

"But I still have so many questions!"

"Don't worry, it's gonna be alright. Nice to meet you. I hope I see you soon." And with that, he disappeared with the light, leaving Steve alone in his room. He looks down to his hands, still holding the picture strongly. He smiles.

"I hope so too."

Steve didn't remember his name. He tried to think back but at the time he was panicking at the thought of "CUTE BOY IN MY ROOM!" and focusing too hard on the fact that said boy was from another universe. So of course his ADHD brain would forget his name.

But this didn't keep Steve from looking. He was never this excited to go to school before. He started paying more attention to his surroundings, hoping he would spot the mysterious boy somewhere.

Instead, he spotted a fight. "Just be nice" he thought. The older boys being mean to the smaller ones does seem like a good moment to be nice. Also, it was just not fair.

"Hey, why don't you pick someone your size?" Steve approached the bully, tapping him on the shoulder with his eyebrows pinched.

"Ugh. Why do you always have to ruin the party, Palchuk? You had potential but you insist on being on the wrong side" he tries to push Steve, asking for a fight. Steve scoffs and holds the boy's wrist.

"Just let them go. You know you can't win against me." The bully grunts and shakes his wrist from Steve's hold. He nods to his friends and they leave, muttering amongst themselves.

Steve turns to help the other boys out of the ground, offering a hand. The first boy refuses, getting up fast and running away. And that's when finally, Steve sees him. He looks smaller than the boy in his room, his hair is shorter and he was wearing nerdy glasses. But it was definitely him. He would recognize that smile and those eyes anywhere.

"Thanks. Steve, right?" the boy said, holding his hand and getting up. Steve was at a loss of words. He nodded, smiling.

"That was very nice of you. I'm Eli, by the way." he shook his hand. He was real and he was right here, holding hands with him. Ok, this is happening!

"Nice to meet you. That was no problem really, if you ever have any trouble with them again just tell me" Steve blunted out nervously, scratching his neck. Eli smiled, picking up his books and leaving.

"Again, Steve?" the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm starting to think you're not even trying. Go to detention!"

Steve sighs, walking with his head down in shame. But this time, when he enters the classroom he sees someone that make his eyes light up.

"Eli! Hi!" Steve sits on the table behind him, excited.

"Oh, hey Steve"

"What are you in here for?" he asks confused.

"I was breaking in. And you?" Eli says as if it's a normal occurrence.

"Woah what???"

"I was trying to study at the lab during recess."

"I didn't know that wasn't allowed"

"Well... I kinda was using their equipment to try and communicate with aliens... Which isn't allowed..." Eli says a little embarrassed.

"Oh" Steve laughs, finding the story very endearing. "So you like space, huh?"

"I do. Imagine if I got to do it. It would've been so cool!" he exclaims, and Steve has to hold back the urge to tell him about the parallel universe.

"It really would. Don't lose hope though" he winks at his direction.

Eli smiles and keeps working on his assignment.

"Y'know, I didn't expect you to be here. You're very... um... nerdy?" Steve admits after some minutes of silence.

"Oh so we're doing stereotypes? Alright, jock. Why are you here? Got into a fight?"

"What? No. I'm a nice person! I just didn't do my homework. Again."

"Because you didn't want to or...?" Eli asked confused, tilting his head. Steve had a genius idea. He felt like those cartoons when a little lamp lights up.

"I'm having a lot of trouble, actually. Are you any good with math?"

"Of course. Why?"

"What do you say you help me with homework and I help you by staying on look out when you're in the lab?"

Eli considered, as he heard the bell ring. He gathers his books and hands Steve a piece of paper before leaving.

"Sure. Text me later so we can talk about it"

"Sounds good" Steve smiled. If this went anything like he wanted to, he better start cleaning some space in his closet.

#hello! its me! again #just a silly little thing that came to me and i rolled with it lol #i kinda like it tho! enjoy!#steli #steve palchuk x eli pepperjack #creepslayerz #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #my writing

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

how about song lan/jiang cheng and a happy ending, please? 💖 thank you for sharing all your amazing fics with us!

Untamed

As they travel towards the Unclean Realm, Xue Yang bound and carefully watched at all times, Xiao Xingchen naturally gravitated towards Wei Wuxian, sharing stories about the woman that had been Xiao Xingchen’s shijie and Wei Wuxian’s mother. Jiang Cheng, distinctly aware that if Cangse Sanren had not died that Wei Wuxian would be – at best – a familiar stranger, kept his distance from that discussion.

At first, he tried to distract himself with Nie Huaisang, but apparently Nie Huaisang had exceeded his quota for interacting with other people in a given day and wasn’t interested in anything other than a long nap in the carriage (Meng Yao, who had been recruited for use as a pillow, had shot him an apologetic look over his head), so Jiang Cheng had to find something else to do. If he wasn’t occupied, he felt useless, like he was intruding somewhere he oughtn’t be.

Somehow, he ended up walking alongside Song Lan.

“It’s an honor,” he said, feeling stupid and awkward. “Your name is – renowned, and your ambition to start a sect based on merit is very impressive.”

“On friendship,” Song Lan said, and Jiang Cheng blinked. “A sect based on friendship. Merit implies that you must have skills or talents that render you deserving of a place; the sect I dream of would have a home even for those whose only skill is in delighting others with their company.”

“That sounds nice,” Jiang Cheng said, feeling unwontedly wistful. Sometimes it felt like he spent his whole life trying to win enough merit, to demonstrate his value, to manage to justify having been born as his father’s son – trying, and failing, while all merit flowed naturally and effortlessly to Wei Wuxian.

He couldn’t even imagine a sect where that wasn’t necessary.

“You would be a good fit,” Song Lan said, and Jiang Cheng turned to him with wide eyes. “You care deeply for your friends.”

“I – I do,” Jiang Cheng said, stuttering over his speech. “I’d do anything for them.”

“Even if they didn’t do anything for you?”

“Why should they have to do anything for me?” Jiang Cheng asked, puzzled, and Song Lan nodded as if he’d said the right thing on the first try without straining, which might be the first time that had ever happened to him.

Suddenly feeling deeply moved, Jiang Cheng acted recklessly: he strode forward and turned to face Song Lan, stopping in his path and careful not to touch him – he would’ve just grabbed his arm if he were Wei Wuxian, but he’d noticed that Song Lan seemed to dislike too-close contact, even from Xiao Xingchen who was as close to him as a brother, and he didn’t want to offend.

“I’d like to be your friend,” he said, bold and brave the way a Jiang should be, and then promptly ruined it by coughing and looking down and muttering, “I mean, that is, if you want. No big deal.”

Song Lan looked at him thoughtfully. It made Jiang Cheng nervous, feeling like he was about to be rejected, but on the other hand it also felt kind of – nice, in some fashion, to know that there were other people in the world who had to think about what they were going to say, who didn’t have a ready answer for everything sitting on the tip of their tongues like Wei Wuxian always did.

“I would be honored to be your friend, Jiang Wanyin,” Song Lan said when he finally did speak, and then he smiled.

There are those that say that the smile of a solemn man was the most beautiful thing in the world, and after having seen it with his own eyes Jiang Cheng was inclined to agree.

A moment later, as if by unspoken agreement, they both turned and continued to walk along the road to Qinghe. They did not speak further on that subject, turning to others, but it was comfortable and evening the way almost nothing in Jiang Cheng’s life was.

When they finally said farewell, he had no regrets.

Later, much later, when so much had happened that Jiang Cheng could no longer recognize himself and fate led them to meet once more, this time at the house in which Wen Qing was hiding them, Jiang Cheng chased after Song Lan again: he called out from his window after him just as he was about to set out.

“Jiang Wanyin?” Song Lan asked, coming forward to him with a frown. For some reason, his eyes seemed not quite right for his face even though Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“Comatose, you mean,” Jiang Cheng said mirthlessly. “One of the needles got bumped, and I woke up a little earlier…are you all right? I didn’t hear much, but – you got injured?”

“My eyes,” Song Lan said, which accorded with what Jiang Cheng thought he’d heard. “They’re better now, though.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I’m probably going to die,” he said, trying for a matter-of-fact tone but he was pretty sure that he mostly ending up sounding scared. “And even if I don’t, I’m – I’m not going to be able to – to do anything. For you. I’d be totally useless.”

Song Lan looked taken aback, and then visibly softened when he realized what Jiang Cheng meant. “I told you before,” he said. “It’s friendship, not merit. You don’t need to do anything at all.”

That in all likelihood, Song Lan would never found that sect of his went unspoken between them.

It was just the way of things. Like Jiang Cheng probably dying the second the Wen sect finally caught up with them and found him, useless and weak as he was, without the golden core that he’d worked so hard on all his life.

You couldn’t change things like that.

“Anyway, there are still Jiang sect disciples out there,” Song Lan said, and to Jiang Cheng’s surprise he offered his hand out to him. “You will gather them and reawaken your sect from the ashes.”

Jiang Cheng wet his lips. He wouldn’t, of course; he wouldn’t be able to, not without a golden core, without cultivation, without hope.

And yet…

He was useless. He should just die and be done with it, not linger around to act as a burden other people.

And yet –

Jiang Cheng reached out and clasped Song Lan’s hand with his own.

“If I don’t, I’ll come find you and join your sect,” he said, only half-joking. Who else would take him as he was now? “But if I do as you expect, gathering them up and re-establishing the Jiang sect…in that case, you come find me, all right?”

“Find you?” Song Lan asked, now truly surprised. “For what?”

“You said that friendship doesn’t have to be about merit,” Jiang Cheng said. “But just because it doesn’t have to be doesn’t mean you can’t bring merit into it. If you’re my friend, I’ll want to do things for you, if I can. If you can do something for me, then why can’t I do something for you?”

Song Lan thought about it.

“All right,” he said at last, and squeezed Jiang Cheng’s hand before letting go. “It’s a deal, my friend. Now lie back down and let me put the needle back into place for you. You need to rest.”

Jiang Cheng’s chest hurt – in a completely different way from his missing golden core and the scars from the whipping he’d received – and he nodded, retreating through the window.

“Don’t forget,” he said, lying down and letting Song Lan reach up to his forehead with the needle. “You have to let me help you, or else it’s not equal. All right?”

“I understand,” Song Lan said.

Maybe he did, because later still, when all the world had changed once again and Jiang Cheng wasn’t anything like the man he remembered himself being – after he’d gone up a mountain and come down renewed, had led an army and re-started his sect, had lost his martial brother and then his sister and then his martial brother a second time over, this time for good, and was helping raise his nephew during the half-year that he’d begged the Jin clan to allow him – after all that, Song Lan really did come to him.

“My friend,” Jiang Cheng said, clinging onto his arms a little too tightly. He’d almost forgotten that Song Lan existed in the wake of everything, had forgotten that there were still people out in the world who he called friend and who called him the same in return. “My friend, you’re here.”

“I said I would be,” Song Lan said, and hesitated. “I have a favor to ask. You said…”

“A favor? Anything. Well, within reason, of course.”

Song Lan nodded.

“I’m looking for Xiao Xingchen,” he said. “I thought I could find him on my own, but all this time has passed, and I still don’t know where to look. I thought – maybe –”

Jiang Cheng had power at his fingertips. He could order a search party – could order dozens – could set a bounty and have every cultivator and every common person in the whole of Yunmeng keeping their eyes wide open for someone of Xiao Xingchen’s distinctive description.

“Let me come with you to search,” he said instead. “Jin Ling goes back to Lanling next week, and I’ll be at loose ends for six months, bullying everyone in my sect with my temper. They’d be happy to the back of me for a while. We can pick up where you left off.”

Song Lan smiled at him.

It was as beautiful as it had ever been.

Jiang Cheng felt his chest grow tight – he’d thought once that it was hurt he was feeling, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t hurt at all – and he coughed, not sure how to verbalize all of his feelings or even if they would be welcome. Maybe one day.

“Well,” he said brightly, forcing his way through the embarrassment. “Where had you stopped searching? We’ll start there.”

“There was a mountain path,” Song Lan said. “The road sign said that the next place to stop was a place called Yi City.”

“Yi City,” Jiang Cheng said. “Hardly auspicious, but I don’t see why we can’t give it a shot. And with me by your side, if Xiao Xingchen is there or if someone who has seen him is – we’ll find him. See who’ll stop us!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #song lan #my fic #my fics #watercolour-carnations

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knickynoo · 3 years

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Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #doc brown #asks #anon you said you would regret your ask and I want to know if you do lol

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lovesupernova25 · 3 years

Text

I’ll Tell Your Story

Summary: “Oh my gosh he’s dead!” *gangnam style plays*

okay okay: A oneshot involving memories, a grieving Tubbo, and a really cute piglin toddler. Enjoy! (have fun crying)

“Story! Bee! Storytime!” Tubbo jerked awake, startled from his half-dream by a tiny hand tugging on his shirt.

(That was okay. He could tell it was going to be a nightmare anyway.) He’d dozed off in Michael’s room, lulled to sleep by soft light and the sounds of toddler play.

“Bee!” Michael pulled at Tubbo’s arm, one eye pleading.

Tubbo took a deep breath. He felt stretched, shattered. His hands hadn’t stopped trembling for a week, and his own tears were responsible for at least twenty of the burn scars on Ranboo’s skin. He barely had the energy to keep forcing air into his lungs and yet- here was Michael, his son, untouched by the same grief. Tubbo figured he could pretend for an evening.

“Okay,” He swallowed and pulled his face into a smile. “Okay, bud. What story do you want?”

“Ummm…” Michael sat comically back on his hands as he searched the room. “Whozzat?” His eyes landed on something- a picture frame.

Tubbo’s breath caught. Tommy and his younger self beamed at him from behind the glass, and he could make out a lake sparkling behind them and someone- probably Fundy- making a peace sign behind Tommy’s head.

He reached for it, feeling something tighten in his chest.

“This… this was a long time ago, bud,” And it was. Tubbo was shocked by how… different they looked. He traced his younger face with his finger- his smooth, unscarred face, still round with baby fat. Tommy’s hair had still been short, and his eyes… that fearful, haunted look he’d carried- it was gone. Both their eyes were still blue then- brilliant blue. These were the days before the election. Before everything. It was a different world, a different life. “You wanna hear this story?”

“Mmmmm..” Michael hummed his agreement. “Izzat Bee?” He poked a chubby finger at Tubbo’s younger face.

“Yep- that’s me, Mikey. Years and years ago, though.”

“Hmm.. izzat- izzat Phil?” Michael scrunched his face in confusion as he pointed to Tommy. Tubbo swallowed, almost smiling. Tommy would’ve loved to be mistaken for Phil.

“No, Mikey, that’s not Phil. He’s got hair like Phil, though, doesn’t he?” Tubbo took a deep breath, staring down at the photo in his hand. “That’s someone you don’t know. His name was Tommy.”

And then once he started, he couldn’t stop. “Tommy is my-” He swallowed. “Tommy was my best friend. We were like how me and Boo are now- we did everything together.” Tubbo smiled, just barely.

“Like what?” Michael yawned. He was getting bored of the story, Tubbo could tell- so he took a deep breath.

“Well, lots of exciting stuff. Tommy was brave,” He leaned toward his son, smile growing. “Brave and strong like a lion.” He lifted his hands in imitation of a lions’ claws, ready to pounce at the toddler.

Michael giggled. “Stronger than you?”

And Tubbo was frozen, for a moment. He felt a lump grow in his throat, but smiled gently around it. “Yeah,” he said softly, blinking hard. “Stronger than me.”

He pulled Michael onto his lap. “Tommy and I fought in wars together- we made a home, and we had to defend it from the bad guys.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Are bad guys gonna come?”

“No, Mikey,” Tubbo squeezed the toddler in his lap. “We’re safe here. The bad guys aren’t going to hurt us. Before, though- there were lots of bad guys. And Tommy was-” He laughed, “Tommy wanted to fight them all. He’d just charge into battle with no plan and take on the world.” The smile was creeping onto his face again, even as his vision blurred. “Tommy was pretty stupid sometimes.” Tubbo laughed, and it sounded a little bit like a sob.

“But he was kind.” It was like the dam had opened, and Tubbo couldn’t stop. “He acted like he wasn’t- but Tommy was always kind. He’d do anything for the people he cared about. Did you know, Mikey- he fought Technoblade once?”

Michael looked up, eyes widening. “Really?” Michael already knew stories about the half-piglin warrior- hearing this was enough to elevate even a stranger to idol status in his mind.

“Yeah- Tommy’d fight the earth itself if it helped someone he loved.” He huffed out a wet laugh and reached up to stop a tear from spilling onto his cheek.

Deep breaths, Tubbo.

“That was the thing about Tommy. He cared so much, so deeply- and he’d never give it up. He’d-” Tubbo swallowed, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair. “He’d always keep fighting- lead armies and start revolutions and refuse to surrender- no matter what, he’d never surrender. Tommy would die before he let the bad guys win.” Tubbo looked down at his son, smiling again. “He was a hero.”

Michael’s eyes were shining, entranced by tales of glory long gone. “Wowww..”

Tubbo smiled. “Yeah, wow. But people-” He looked away, holding his son tighter. “People don’t always like heroes. They told him he was stupid, or too much, or- or selfish.” Tubbo took a deep breath. He tilted his head to the ceiling. “They were wrong, though.” Tubbo looked back at Michael with an intensity in his eyes that felt like regret. “Tommy… Tommy was the best man I ever knew. He was the best leader, too- and the best friend.” Tubbo closed his eyes and hoped that the only person he wanted to talk to could hear everything he wished he’d said. “And he doesn’t need to worry- because we’re not going to forget him,” he laughed wetly around the crack in his heart, “Anytime soon.”

Maybe the universe was kind enough to grant him that.

Michael stretched in Tubbo’s arms. “Mmmm.. I like Tommy.” He giggled. “Imna be like Tommy when I grow up. Big ‘n strong!” He sat up, clenching his tiny hands into fists.

And Tubbo felt something a little like breaking and a little like mending deep within his chest, because it seemed the universe was kind after all. “Yeah,” his voice broke. “Yeah, you’ll be just like uncle Tommy.”

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rosyk · 3 years

Text

Deja vu

pairing: bang chan x reader, (a bit of han jisung x reader)

genre: heavy angst, passion, romance, one-sided love, bestfriends, long distance relationship

warnings: light curses, death, depression, mentions of alcohol and drugs, family problems, mentions of forced sexual activity, insecurities, anxiety, etc. (Its quite detailed in the first part and could trigger some people in these type and if you are one of them, I advice you not to read. It can really be uncomfortable on the first part)

word count: 11.5k

inspiration: Before We Knew It ch. 36-38 (webtoon), White Flowers- Olivia Rodrigo (unreleased song)

a/n: This is the least fic I loved but I had to continue it to start a new one and i won’t ever write things as long as this (it’s hard) lol. I don’t know who’ll ever read this long and cringey story but I hope it’s worth your time (?)

If I were to describe a man I’d love to marry someday, it would be someone tall, doesn’t openly show their true feelings towards me, and leads me in life. However, you were the exact opposite of it.

I didn’t even know when and why I fell in love with you. Was it at first sight? No. Was it because someone told me about my indistinguishable feelings for you? No. It was like how love was portrayed in novels and books. I just knew it. Instead of leading my life, you made me, myself, want to lead and search for my future. After you happily talked about your passion for music, you made me feel as if you were the right one. It made me think, “Maybe I do want to be with him until the end of life”. I believe something great would occur and I want to be there when that happens. When the music he produces, raps he created, genres he invented, and when his voice reaches the world, I want to be on his side and be proud I was able to witness all of that. You were everything in times I was the “nothing”.

I truly wished to be a singer right from the start. My dream was unaccepted by my family because the job isn’t as stable as it seems. I had to study medicine since then. Therefore seeing you was like seeing how I could’ve been. I stopped my passion but you made me pursue the unpursued, break off the imaginary limits I had created in my mind. I developed a fear of having to try again. I never sang after years and tried to let go of my past. But you? You lifted me away from the cage of darkness I trapped myself in. My anxiety was too deep to the point I was afraid of people, nightmares, thoughts, happiness, living, being alone, home, and simply just everything.

Even I was scared of myself.

Then I knew this is the worst a person could be. It isn’t when someone takes drugs, drinks alcohol, or flees away from home. It is when he or she no longer wants to take a step forward. I was frightened by the idea of love but also the idea of being alone. I was terrified to open up when the people closest to me never understood but was scared when I keep everything to myself too much up until I’m tired. I feared death the most, how much more if I was living? I remember cutting myself in bed when I overheard my parents fighting because of my presence. I was shaking, desperately trying to suppress my weeping. Was I sad because I didn’t have good childhood memories I could reminisce? Or was I happy for myself because that was the bravest thing I did? I was too young to understand what I truly felt but I didn’t regret a single thing.

I know the difference between wrong and right but why can’t I tell when it comes to situations that involve me? Is it wrong to think it would’ve been best if I was sleeping forever, in a depth of endless time even though I know I should live for a purpose I couldn’t find or for people who don’t care? But is it also right to live and hope miserably someone out there would find and help me even though it means staying and coping with the pain? Whenever I make a decision, I could hear trapped voices rambling in my head, time ticking as fast as my heartbeat, my soul pressuring me, and my mind that creates negative scenarios which cause me to step back before even having the chance to run. In general, I’ve had to overthink my overthinking.

I also have the habit of blaming myself. As deeper as it goes, it became my lifestyle then. I blamed myself for playing the victim as if I was the only one hurting amidst the world. I blamed myself for crying when I had no right because I gave people terrible occurrences. I blamed myself for the inability to be brave and commit what I feared the most. I also blamed myself for silently not crying loud enough to the point that my facade turned out stronger.

Looking back, I was a total mess in which I couldn’t even call myself human. My only best friends were the mirror and my own shadow. I was 10 so I appreciated how the mirror felt the same feelings as mine. It doesn’t laugh when I cry even though the creatures surrounding me do. But for the same reason, I hated it. It reflects my despair, how horrible I looked causing me to despise it the most. My shadow on the other hand makes me feel I’m not alone at the end of the day. But I also despised it the moment my mom locked me up in my room, isolating me in darkness to forget all the traumas I had given her. Because even the shadow disappears in my darkest hours. And just like friends, it all just ended. I no longer want to feel love if love was meant to hurt.

Years of living in hell passed by, until you came.

“You okay?”

I was crying at the staircase in the nearest tunnel found at school. I was a 16-year-old who tried to break away from my dad’s drunken behavior. Running away was another brave thing I did but it was because the thought of him doing me was scary enough.

It was embarrassing to let you see me like this but surprise was the first reaction I had. No one ever dared to approach me because of my low status and the suspicious silence that I give. Questions filled my head as to why you bothered talking to me. Were the rumors unbelievable enough?

“I am new here but I haven’t seen you a lot in school. Are you the same as I am?”

So he’s a transferee. Honestly speaking, I was discouraged. It’s clear that he would slowly stop approaching me as soon as he knew the rumors. You introduced yourself and asked for my name. I gave you a silent treatment causing you to face my direction. We stared at each other for minutes. You finally gave up and sat beside me as I turned my gaze back at the people playing in the park, sighing heavily.

“Would you like to hear my life?” You look at me, expecting something. I turned back at you, both eyebrows raised. You showed your smile, with those little cute dimples on each side to get away from the awkward atmosphere. Trust me when I tell you that was the brightest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Maybe you did show me the colors I didn’t know I needed in my life.

“Oh… I guess you don’t then? I mean why would you be interested right?” You laughed yourself off but as usual, expected some remarks from me. My eyes panicked as I shook my head quickly from side to side. My eyebrows creased as I bit my lip, hoping you understood what I meant.

“So you do want to hear it?” I shook my head up and down as an approval of your question. Unnoticeably, it was the first time I felt eager especially when it comes to humans.

“Isn’t it annoying though?” I got the hint you wanted to tease me considering your giggles but I was too caught up in assumptions that you wouldn’t continue your storytelling. Thus, I did the same thing, turning my head from side to side, trying to convince you that I desperately want to know what happens in the lives of some.

“Cute” you mumbled to yourself but I was able to hear the word that came out from you. You patted my head casually as you started to talk about your life. I grew slightly embarrassed, curling myself, holding my knees, and acted as if I didn’t hear anything.

You were transparently open in talking to the point that I finally knew what “precious” actually meant. Although it was for a moment I knew it would stop soon, you definitely saved me from all I felt.

There I knew how our lives were exact opposites. If I felt everything, the happiness, and sadness, contrasting feelings I couldn’t comprehend, you on the other hand felt nothing. As soon as your dearest brother got into an accident, you didn’t know what to do. If I had abusive and malicious parents, you had no one to be with. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen If I lived your life.

I knew I was bad for thinking of such a way but I took advantage of your life. It made me feel relieved that there were people who faced the worst monsters than I have inside me. It made me look at the positive side of mines.

Much especially when I didn’t expect it would be you. My first impression of you was this carefree pure guy who had no problems in living his life. Little did I know, you were waking up feeling nothing, smiling with no joy, cries without letting out the pain, and laughs despite the numbness and burden that weighs in your heart. I guess we can’t judge people by the way they appear. We never know how much tears they’ve shed every night.

You summarized and wrapped things up. You asked for my name one last time before leaving. But there I was, hung my head low and sniffles could be heard. You looked in confusion as I tried to cover my face. A surprise was evident in your reaction and it was obvious due to your stuttering. You tried to ask what happened but instead hugged me unconsciously.

That was the first time I’ve ever felt warmth. I was born a mistake so even my parents couldn’t give me this kind of comfort. I cried worse as I had thought of it. The idea of a stranger giving me a better meaning of how home felt like than a family does, who wouldn’t tear up after that?

I don’t want to be ahead of time. But hope filled my mind. Maybe I could find more people like him. Maybe someone out there could notice my emotions. Maybe someone could act as my light. Maybe someone does care about my wellbeing. Out of a huge percentage of people living on Earth, there should be one who could at least meet and save me right? I know I settled in all “maybes” but it was much better than having none.

Recalling the series of events, I was a total problem. Yet you were always there for me no matter how heavy of a burden I am. You were the one who believed in me when I couldn’t, picked me up when I was drowning in a wave of traumas and worries, and lightened my deep void. You were my first and swore you’ll be my last, who broke my past and created my unknown beginning. I hated risks but whenever you are involved, I for sure know it is worth it no matter how many needles it may pain me. It had been years before noticing how much you mean to me I may be late, but would never get tired of this. I will listen and enjoy our memories until the end. You will, for eternal love, be my last song in my only playlist.

Although it’s true we never believed in love since the beginning. But all we do know is that we’d like to spend our whole lives together. It’s as if we were bound by the heavens to meet and help one another. With all that’s happening, I would like to assume that this is love people were talking about. Who knew it could be this powerful to change someone?

[CHAN’S POV]

And what happened to the “messy innocent girl who was stained by reality?” She became an unrecognizable teen, as pure as ever. In the past, I wasn’t able to feel the emotions most do but look at me now, smiling every time I see you do. Even though I’ve never felt heavy feelings, these light ones are taking a toll on me whenever you call my name.

We had arguments but never had any misunderstandings. This is all because no matter what I say, you are always by my side. I could tell you day by day how much you mean the world to me, my downfalls, and everything unnecessary but you’d still listen to it with no regrets.

Right now, we’re meeting up for a “little date” as you mentioned. I was going to decline because there had been many requirements in class but you seemed too interested that I didn’t want to break it to you.

I was wearing my usual hoodie sweater with baggy pants and ordered for both of us. After all, you would always choose chocolate whipped shakes over anything. You seemed to take too long so I decided to work on some demands given. I turned on my laptop and opened the application as I placed the headphones on my ear, silencing the noise in my surroundings.

Now all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding and swallowing as my throat started to dry. The loading symbol appeared on my screen and I hoped it would stay like that forever. I hoped it would crash and tried to find more excuses for me not to use it.

I was consistently looking at the time shown on the panel below the main screen. The blue circular sign still turns and turns as I see it from my peripheral vision. 3:31, 3:32, 3:33, the minutes kept moving and hands that are now shaking because I assumed this would be the worst nightmare that could happen. But no, cause “worst nightmare” is an understatement when we are referring to this. It would’ve been better as a nightmare because I could wake up from this traumatic moment. I was focused on my screen that I hadn’t noticed the calling in my front.

“Channie?... Chris?.... Christopher?... Mr.Bang Chan?.. Chan!”

[Y/N’S POV]

He finally noticed me as soon as I tapped on his shoulders. He flinched and looked at me in horror. It creeped me out but it took seconds before he could pull his eyes away from mine. He bit his lips and I noticed him covering his hands. The staff called out a number which I believe was from our table considering the way he closed his laptop.

“I’m getting that” You forced a little smile as you made way to the counter

I smiled at the thought of our “date” but seeing you sweating and nervously fidgeting your fingers to avoid them from shaking bothers me. Did something happen before you came? Why was he that nervous? Thoughts bombarded my mind, but you coming back with my favorite drink and snacks, looking all-smiley, tells me as if you noticed my discomfort so you tried cheering me up. You sat down in front of me and got rid of your problems. As usual, this guy notices even the littlest gestures I make.

“Did you wait too long?” I asked you with enthusiasm because our little date has now started. The idea non-stop makes my whole day

“No, I just arrived before you did.” You respond with a genuine smile despite the clear lie you just gave. You stroked my hair as you looked at me lovingly

“Oh, I just passed by that bakery we talked about a year ago…..” I started chatting about our fond memories that remain vivid in my head.

It took several hours of talking and enjoying our time together. We also watched that Philippine movie starring two exes who broke up and lived in one house, but being an emotional wreck, it took 30 mins of you trying to comfort me as I cry ugly. Of course, you didn’t miss an opportunity to laugh at me and even took a video. Teasing me and showing my picture as your wallpaper, made me playfully angry.

We also enjoyed visiting the same tunnel where we met. The nostalgia is present. The moon is shining and I can’t help but smile looking at you.

[CHANS POV]

You look beautiful under the moon if I must say. I wanted to show the magnificent view because it reminds me of you whenever I see it up above. You were my only light when my days in the past were too dark.

We continued strolling around, counting the streetlights that passed by and talked about a lot of things. Until you decided to speak up-

“About…. the thing that happened earlier?” You looked up to me, but your eyes soon started moving away from mines. You were held on with the anxiety of trying to speak up whenever it had come to my personal life. I don’t know whether it was the trauma you’ve stumbled upon when you asked about my father or it’s just due to your manners. Nonetheless, if it was indeed your trauma, I’ve felt guilty about it and wanted to reassure you I won’t hurt you ever again. “But if you don’t want to talk about it-“ I cut your sentence off.

“My father was a musician..” your eyes shined with glee in my response

“That’s cool!” You exclaimed but it soon faded into a frown after hearing me sigh. Tilting your head, you tried to calculate everything that’s wrong with it. I nervously fidgeted with my hands and knuckles, contemplating a decision that could change and even affect both of us.

“Everything’s wrong... He was into it, music took his mindset and life” I faced my head sideways and gulped without looking at your eye. The trauma, I’m finally telling my pent-up feelings after a lifetime keeping it to myself.

“He was so into composing music and started to forget about the reason he had started to do it. And by that-“ you cut off my sentence and started to nod a few times, pressing your lips together. You pointed your shaky finger at me and spoke softly.

“I think I know where this is going.” You looked at me in disbelief but all I could do is look at you with concern and guilt, asking for forgiveness. “Is this why you didn’t want to love again even after all these years?” Your eyes that shined stars a moment ago, turned into sun at night. It wasn’t raging darkness, but plain agony.

“Can you blame me? I know I love music, I’ve told you that on repeat for years. Is love what I need when that was the cause of everything?”

You didn’t take one glance at me and started walking faster. You were trying to leave me behind but I was quick to grab your hand.

“Please, let’s not act like this. It’s starting to get..” I was trying to think of a less harsh word because things get complicated day by day. And here I thought this date would be an exception. “Childish. Okay? I don’t get why you’re so out of place and it’s like-“

“So now I’m the one getting childish here?” You turned around and faced me, finally. Though it wasn’t any relieving as I expected. You were having tears stuck in your eyes, ready to fall at anytime yet you don’t want to cry in front of me. Are we going to keep this up? I was about to talk but no words came out of me. Until you decided to continue your sentence.

“You knew about this all the time, right? You knew how I was starting to fall for you and yet you continued our relationship without feeling love?” You bit your lips as your eyebrows creased. Trying to push me away, but all I could do was hold you tighter. “I know how trauma feels like. I’ve been there, we’ve been there. But you could’ve told me sooner at least so I’m not the only one looking like a whole fucking fool here, Christopher.” You tried to get away from my hold and yes, you did. Though as I tried to grab your hand once again, you took a step backward and placed your hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. “Call me sensitive but for God’s sake! How could you get me all wrapped up in your finger for the past years and call it something that isn’t attachment nor love? What was I to you then?” It took seconds for me to get the gist of what you’re trying to say and I did understand but I couldn’t answer that simple question.

Because now that I think of it, was I awful to hesitate who you were in my life? Was those years nothing for me then? I want to protect you until the end and I wanted to see you happy but I’m pretty sure I felt this for some of my friends as well. Did I just get into a relationship whilst thinking of my significant other as a friend? Is it called using someone? Taking advantage to make my life better? I know what’s right and what’s wrong. But I don’t know which is which. Getting into a relationship is a risky choice and I don’t want to hurt anybody in between. Because I know that’s what’s wrong. Using others for my need of affection and love is wrong as well. But is this exactly what I’m doing? I don’t know...As things grow, it just gets complicated to the point that I couldn’t even comprehend situations.

“I thought so” you continued, and those words crushed my heart. I didn’t notice the time we’ve been arguing, though technically it’s just you who was able to speak, that we’ve already reached your house. You opened the tiny gate in front of your house and I know what’s going to happen sooner later.

“Maybe, you need time to think about it alright? I don’t think I can keep up with a relationship like this if it’s too one-sided. But don’t worry I’ll wait. Even though what I want may not come,” you chuckled but the sigh was still evident. “I’ll wait for you.” You smiled, but it isn’t the one you’ve always shown me. I was the reason for your happiness but also the reason for your pain. How tragic must have been that sound.

You went your way to the door and closed it. I knew you were crying as I heard little sniffles but never looked my way. Closing the door, that was the last time I had ever seen you. With no goodbye kisses and hugs, you left feeling the ache you didn’t deserve.

[YOUR POV]

It was supposed to be “taking a break”, but considering this, I should’ve accepted it as a break-up. You never took time texting me after the whole 4 months. I guess I was no one in your life. But even though I was still hurt, I regretted spatting out things as if it was your fault. You always get guilty over things and I know it was all just because you had a hard time reciprocating your feelings because of the lack of love you’ve felt. I should’ve understood that part but being the sensitive me, I was unmindful. I’ve also never seen you walk past the corridors nowadays, so it’s basically been also the same 4 months of actually not seeing you as well. You really bothered trying to get out of my life.

I groaned as I sat up in the bed. It was around 8:30 and I’m like 1 hour and 30 mins late? Not that I’m bothered by it since I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not like our teacher is there by the time I arrive.

-SCHOOL-

“Outside, now” was the first and last thing I’ve heard as I entered my classroom. And here I thought the teacher wasn’t present. Not only did I embarrass myself in front of my classmates, but I’d also have to stand holding a chair, outside the classroom for lower and higher-ups students to see. Awful, and my reputation is broken. Well, not that I had any significant reputation in the first place but come on, you know how hard it was to see students bickering while looking at you.

I heard the door click open and I hoped it was the teacher who finally would let me in. It turned out to be another classmate of mines which I thought was unnecessary. But as I looked back up and noticed his eyes, a sense of familiarity came unto me.

“Han?” My eyes widened at the sight in front of me. I’m not expecting people to be perfect but our class president was the last person I expected to be scolded by our teacher. “Weren’t you inside the classroom way before me?”

“I cursed.” The guy spoke shortly and lifted the chair just like the same punishment I’ve been doing. I blinked my eyes twice but understood nothing.

“Pardon?” I replied in a high tone as if I was questioning what he was trying to say. Cursed? Is he out of his mind, trying to curse in front of the teacher? Besides, he had always been this quiet kid, but girls still tend to simp over. The latter though is out of my knowledge.

“What did you say?” I leaned in as you jolted quite a bit. Reacting to the sudden flinch, I assumed it was bold of me to do so and it scared you. But looking straight at you, pink tints were found on the side of the cheeks. It was light and definitely cute.

“F-fuck” he faced me with eyebrows creased and hesitated in replying. It was so short and awkward whenever he’d say it or maybe it’s also due to his stuttering. The thought was so out of the place and even I, who is quite free doesn’t curse in front of the teacher for no reason so why would someone who tries to stay low, would curse? But the way you told me the “forbidden” word made me laugh out loud.

“You’re funny, Mr. class president” I replied after a silent 2 minutes and laughed while hitting him lightly. Little amounts of liquids were falling down my deep brown eyes as I tried to regain my breathing. He’s awkward and that’s what makes it funny. I like him.

I wiped off my tears and stared at you. My laughs slowly died down after seeing your confusing expression. I don’t know whether your eyes held a safe haven or a place I was indulged in and forgot about the point that everything was complicated in between. Whether staring at you was comfortable or confusing. All I know is that I was distracted by the genuine smile you gave. It was little but I knew it was a smile after seeing cute dimples on the side of your lips. Now that I think of it, I haven’t ever seen the president smile.

You noticed my pause and coughed, trying to clear out the tension. The usual demeanor was back. Was everything just an illusion then?

“Anyways, I don’t know about you but I’m gonna have to go. Don’t want stay here standing when time’s already up” you lazily said as you pressed your lips together, leaving me speechless all alone. Raising your hand, you waved back at me while walking away and didn’t even take time to look back.

That was weird. Or was I the only one weird? True, I’ve never seen him around that much but I’ve painted the guy as someone responsible considering the works he finished even after given such a small time. He was indeed open-minded but wasn’t out-spoken or friendly. Work is work and he has to make sure he aces his tests for his reputation to not tarnish even one bit, that’s all that matters to him. He was never used to smiling so he doesn’t do it as much, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’m guessing it must be my imagination.

/LUNCHTIME/

Guess what? It’s already lunchtime and I haven’t learned a single bit of information from my teacher’s discussion. Shrugging all my homework, projects, quizzes, oral recitations, and performances that are all due this afternoon, I walked out of the classroom.

But before I did so, I found a familiar guy in my peripheral vision. Trying to confirm whether it was him, I turned and called his name out.

“Mr. president?”

The same awkward and serious guy turned around, raising his right brow. You were confused at first about who would call you with no respect, but hummed in surprise as a response.

“It’s Han for you... and for everyone” trying to continue the work you’ve been doing for our school camp which is totally several months later. What’s the rush?

“Drop the formalities! Besides, I like Mr. president way better.” I smiled and tilted my head then flipped my hair. I was a whole smug for thinking my naming sense was the best thing about me.

“Like, like?”

The same vibe always comes up whenever I’m talking to you and I don’t know why. How is it so hard to interact with smart ones? I feel like their language is different and I couldn’t even comprehend what this guy is trying to say.

“like?”

“You like mr. president. That’s what you said”

And that’s how it struck me. Looking back on everything, it seems pretty weird. (I like Mr. President way better) rings all throughout my head. I know he’s been surrounded by girls who have a crush on him but surely he doesn’t think of this as a low-key confession, right?

Please, I didn’t deserve any of this awkward tension. I did walk up to him first but blame my curiosity for wondering what he’s doing in his free time, does he always go to the library whenever, or what do the lifestyle elites like him actually have? Maybe, I did just want a friend but who knew it would be this complicated. Wrong choice.

“The names you provide for people are so dull” you faked a yawn to show how uninterested you are.

I laughed out and tried to hide the embarrassment I’ve felt inside. He meant the name of course! What was I thinking? He quickly got up and proceeded to leave the classroom as if he understood what I wanted to do. He catches up with things fast if I must say. But the feeling didn’t subside in me and I tried to cover up my face with my hands as soon as he left. Heaving a deep sigh, I reassured myself and followed him.

-CAFETERIA-

“This is all they’ve got?”

It’s been a second we’ve entered the school cafeteria and yet this elite beside me was already complaining. We sat down on the white benches and I was also relieved the cafeteria doesn’t have many students since our class ended earlier than the desired time.

“You’ll get used to it. Besides, what do you commonly eat for lunch? This is good.” I replied and waited for a response that never came back. I’m thinking it was a wall I’m talking to. You ate the soup and showed a face of disgust. Of course, I don’t give up.

“Do you have different cafeterias?” “Or do you eat in your respective rooms?” “Do you actually eat? cause you looked really busy with the requirements.” “Being a class president is that hard huh? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as hard-working as you even if they have high titles.” “You know if I was the class-“

“Why do you ask so many questions? Geez” you swept your hair and sighed. You felt tired talking to someone as chatty as me but all I could do is playfully pout and raise both my eyebrows up. Shrugging, I respond.

“Why not?”

You glared at me but I wasn’t taken aback by it so you decided to reply, finally. “The real question is, why?” you tried to peacefully eat and finished it quickly so you could go to the library, I suppose. It was going smoothly until my small brain with low grammar or structure skills decided to pop up the least moment I wanted it to.

“Because I’m interested in you.”

Choking was all I could hear after I simply stated. Panicking, I gave you my water unknowingly and you drank it. I patted your back and stroked it gently.

“You okay?” I tried to calm you down but your face seemed to ask me whether you were okay even after everything was obvious.

“You mean you’d like to know about my lifestyle?” You analyzed my reaction as I tilted my head. I mean isn’t that clear? Your eyes seemed like you got the hang of me again and scoffed, rolling your eyes. Wow! Now, what’s up with this attitude?

“It’s common. Just some random New York steak.” My eyes widened and my ears couldn’t believe what they’re hearing. That’s common? Gosh, even my monthly allowance couldn’t afford to buy a whole steak, what more if it was specifically in New York? And the way he didn’t bother to flex about his lunchtime food and acts as if it’s unimportant.

“Enough about me, how about you?” I believe you were trying to ask for the sake of the conversation but it excites me anyway. I mean, an elite asking me about my life? It boosts my pride, internally laughing as I thought of the idea.

“What do you want to know about me?” Grinning, I eagerly waited for the question. How blessed I am to have an upper-class student to not just interact, but ask about me as well.

“What happened between you and Bang Chan?”

I’m taking it all back. I don’t want to hear any questions. I was wrong. By Bang Chan, I knew straight away he was referring to Chris. The mentioned ex became an elite, or so I heard. I don’t know how, why, or when but that’s the only reason possible for him to know there was a thing between us. But unlike me, Mr. President wants to make sure of everything and not just the rumors he had heard.

“No.” I simply stated and continued to eat.

“Why not?”

“I should be the one asking you why”

“Because I’m interested in you”

I paused and was slightly surprised by the sudden declaration. Okay, my way of telling him made me look crazy. I looked up to him and saw a pair of teasing eyes. This is who mr. president is? Now it was my time to roll my eyes and I knew at that moment I had no escape.

“Exes. We’re exes.” I expected a startled expression from you but your lips curled downwards as if you expected it. How was it hard to read this guy’s mind though he immediately catches up on everything I’m feeling?

Days passed by and as usual, I was the one annoying you. At that very time, we became close because I knew you were a comfortable place for me to be in. You don’t judge unlike what others do each time I open up my problems especially when it comes to my relationship with an elite and Christopher, out of all. For sure, you were the right choice of friend I never knew I needed to rely on.

[YOUR JOURNAL]

Just a few days passed by and I hear lots of students whispering. What’s the occasion? I don’t even know myself yet I’ve brought a ring that matches mine. I’m naive but I always trust my instincts no matter what. As I try to recall the date and puts everything together in one piece from all the clues I’ve gotten.

A familiar man appeared in my sight. But he wasn’t mr. president. He was looking at me and I continued to look at those deep brown eyes I’ve longed to see after a long time. Was I prepared? No. Did I want to see him? I’m not sure so myself. But did I actually like that view? Indeed. My very first heartbreak or hiatus came back after months and to see he felt the same way I did. Did the moment I waited for all of my life would finally happen?

Each step you take, the more my anxiety rushes through me. I felt the shivers either because I was scared or it was the tears I’ve forced to stop from rolling down my cheeks. Or simply both, ignoring the fact that I was hurt yet I did want to see you after all. I wanted to walk away, but if I did then I’m making the same mistake twice. Therefore I stood still silent and only my heartbeat is the loudest out of all.

Closing my eyes, I expected strong grips around my wrist which marks it deep red because anger was the only thing present in the space between us. I didn’t take consideration of the things you’ve gone through but instead became selfish just because I’ve moved on from the past. I did tell you I would wait for you forever but all I gave you was the pressure of making you choose decisions at times you were having a hard time. Just because you made me learn the definition of love, doesn’t mean I could anticipate that you felt the same thing.

Quite on the contrary, I’ve felt warmth and comfort. The grip was truly strong, strong enough to hurt me emotionally and not physically unlike what I expected. The grip I’ve felt was hanging around me, a hug was given to me even when I didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry” that was what I’ve heard in the muffled and low volume of voice the man had spoken because he was on the verge of tears. I was supposed to be the one asking for an apology, yet this guy took it to heart once again. Typical Christopher.

“I missed you. I’ve realized I can’t do things without you. It’s been hard..” Your sentence cut the uncertainty I’ve felt. It came, he came. I cried my heart out after not breathing for a second. It would finally work out, after months of trying to ask for support from other people, you entered my life once again. And better? You loved me.

It was your graduation, and I’m glad to be there just like what we dreamed it to be. You may have left, but our romance never stopped.

Cliché right? Of course, that never happens in reality. What happens, is the point that we argue every day because of the long-distance relationship that serves as an obstacle in us. We don’t even know whose mistake it is but considering you, you’ve always been the one who let your pride down and ask for forgiveness. There are times it’s also been me because I realized that this guy doesn’t deserve more burdens in his life. Support is everything I could give.

“Everything working out?” I was astounded by the call Hanji decided to initiate first. He’s always been there for me when I had it rough. He cares for me though he doesn’t show it as much.

“I don’t know. I’ve rarely been receiving texts but he made sure to call me anytime soon. We’ve both been fighting against this. Thanks by the way” You sighed after I finished my sentence. I hoped my exhaustion wasn’t able to reach you but you knew straight away.

“What do you see in him? He is talented and ideal but do you think you both match up?“

It was good he called but hitting it directly at me and doubts our relationship? That’s what triggered and ticked me off. “I told you not to talk about this.” I firmly uttered.

“He doesn’t get the way you act, talk or even feel”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean by that?” It’s rare to see us quarrel because you didn’t want to reach that point and yet it’s you trying to get all complicated once again. Here I thought I got the hang of how you think. “He understands me more than anyone.”

“If he does then why didn’t he call by then?”

“He was busy. I repeated that to you more than thrice throughout the whole call. But if he wasn’t busy then he’d take a grasp of everything.”

“Was he? Because the last time I knew you had a rough day, crying all alone, he didn’t. The time I knew I had to cheer you up, he didn’t. The time I knew I needed to reassure you that no one’s ever going to leave you but stay by your side, even though you didn’t realize about it, he didn’t.”

3 seconds passed by before my voice was heard in the line.

“What does that have to do with all these?”

“I understand you but the guy you wanted to be with, doesn’t”

That was it, the final blow. Both were concerning, the whole sentence is. Starting from the conclusion you understood me up until the thought of me wanting a guy who doesn’t pick me up the way I assume couples needed. We had a relationship with Chris, but was it called a relationship with lots of things in between?

“I’m sorry. Slipped out. I was just irritated.” It was a first for you to apologize but my mind wandered to the part where you compared yourself to Christopher.

“What do you mean by you understanding me when he doesn’t?”

“I mean... If I did understand you, then I’m pretty sure a lot more boys out there would be a better match and would recognize your desire. They would be able to take care of you. You know I’m just.. worried.”

If it was the usual vibe, I would’ve laughed at that lame excuse. But thinking back, it’s hard for me to perceive the way you feel about me. I’ve heard rumors but ended up being nonchalant about it because mr. president having feelings? I chose to believe it wasn’t real especially when I’m already facing a hard time.

“good night.” You continued after the short silence. It was now you who was starting to get exhausted. You cut off the line quickly before I could even reply. Was the relationship between me and Chris wasn’t able to follow up fate? How innocent of me to think that true love comes so easily.

Days turned to months and I lost count of the weeks Chris has been gone by my side. He had never failed to text compared in the past, but I still yearned for his affection.

He seemed excited on the phone today and unknowingly called me 5 times and now a 6-

“Christopher, aren’t you busy?” I giggled as I heard him laugh. It made my day and filled up the void in me that was created because of the thought he isn’t able to be with me on my graduation day.

“I have duties... as your boyfriend” I playfully rolled my eyes without expecting a turn of events.

It was my final day in school and to think that I have to spend it alone because I had no friends, awful. Chris made my day though, so I wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. But the feeling of not seeing Hanji anymore still lingered in my mind. It was harsh but I had to accept it. We didn’t talk that much but undoubtedly, he was a good friend in times I need him.

Whilst looking around the stalls in the halls, I found him. He was talking to a guy seemingly the same age as ours and he looked so happy. But as his eyes met mines, was it just me, or did it die down? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me after all? His eyes traveled back to the sushi he ordered but sighed as I ran up to him.

“Mr. president?” The happy and annoying tone of calling him wasn’t present anymore. It was gloomy, hesitating if I should bother his hours or time. “Did I do something?” What happened to our closure? it flees away.

I saw you in the process of trying to smile a little and just hummed to let me know nothing’s wrong. But everything is. You ignored me and walked up to the classroom. I followed you, as I always do. I decided to speak up but you cut me off.

“I’m sorry if I did-“

“Are you still interested in me?”

You turned around and confronted my small figure. It hurts the way you try to smile in front of me but failed to do so. Usually, you always made me believe what you wanted me to. You’d say you’re fine, you’re happy, you’re not exhausted, but right now? I’m not buying it. I may not be able to read you that much, but you seemed too tired to the point that your magic of convincing me didn’t work.

“Interested..?”

“You said you were interested in how elite ones live. Now that you got the answer and your boyfriend is one, what am I there for?”

“You were there for me-“

“when he couldn’t be there”

You were being on and off, getting more complicated as time passes by. You don’t go straight to the point but instead, run circles until I have a hard time contemplating whether I’m the wrong one.

“What are you trying to imply?” I questioned

“I don’t need a quote that says don’t expect something in return”

“Return? After everything, we’ve been through? Our friendship? Was it all just nothing? How doesn’t that benefit you?”

“Because the more I give you your need, why do I have to receive pain instead?” Your voice was shaky and I can see you biting your lip, trying to suppress yourself from falling and breaking. “You wanted to know me because you were curious about my life. Now that you know of it, what do you want from me?”

“What do you mean what do I want? I want nothing from you. The bond that we’re tied in is enough for “

“Then who am I to you?”

“I told you, a friend.”

“My purpose in your life?”

“Lifting me up whenever I feel....down”

“So did you recognize how that sound like to you?”

Among both of us, I broke down first. Why am I being the one treated like the villain in this story taking advantage of people around me? Why am I the perceived the evil being in our friendship? Why does he want to make me feel guilty? I didn’t even know what the problem is yet, but I was already the bad one here. Call me clueless, but I couldn’t be blamed for something I don’t even know about. Quiet sobs filled in the silence and I could feel your sympathy filling the empty room.

“If ever..” in a low volume, you decided to speak “Why do you want to spend more time with me?” I looked up to you and wiped away all my tears if that’s possible.

A reason, that’s all I need to prove but no suggestions came up to my mind. Recollecting tragedies, was I the one who didn’t bother calling you when you didn’t do the same to me? Why didn’t I? You didn’t even pass my mind one single time in the past days. So why didn’t that happen? I appreciated him but when did things gradually just..stop?

Tears fell down yours as well but you didn’t want me to look at you in the eye. “You were supposed to say for more memories, you know? Like because I actually made you happy so you wanted me to appreciate our moments. Believe it or not, that’s what they say” you laughed to lift the air but I was still left dumbfounded after everything. How terrible of me, that thought echoes repeatedly.

Hours passed by and I wasn’t feeling it. The sun turned gloomy, the loud cheer of students turned to noise, the sky turned monochrome and the atmosphere turned dull. All I could do was ask Chris regarding it. All he could say is that he appreciated how Hanji backed off and didn’t want to complicate things more by telling me. Understanding none of it, what does he mean by didn’t want to complicate things more when our quarrel was? Wow, I really am this hopeless. Slow and unaware.

I was lost in thought that I late realized how I could hear vehicles in Chris as he was on call. Was he lying then? He mentioned he was staying in but why are there noises and people chattering? I was baffled hearing one of the familiar voices behind. One seemed to be the same as my classmate.

“Where are you? I thought you said you were in your home?”

“I am home.”

Clichè as it seemed, It all felt like a slow-motion in a fast-paced sequence of events. Firstly you were just talking to me but at the next second, you were personally doing it.

Holding your phone, I finally found the guy I’ve seen and lost on the same day in the past. But now? He’s here. Promising me that he won’t leave ever again. I knew I could trust these words no matter how repetitive they're going to be. Once you tell me it, I just know you’d be by my side no matter what until the end of the world.

You were looking the same as I remembered in the past and it’s played out like deja vu. You walking up to me and giving me a whole hug of comfort, as I cried in your arms.

“How about your-“

“I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ve chosen myself, with no additional pressure, to live with you.” You stroked my hair and patted my back.

“Live with me?”

“Don’t you want to?” I was delighted and surprised by the sudden decision. I wasn’t given enough time to think about it, not that I needed time anyway. I would always choose you over anything else.

It was the event and yes, I graduated with my boyfriend cheering me on and allowed me to soar high and fly, to start a new beginning.

[HAN POV]

It was good seeing you happy. Even if it was Bang Chan, I’m sure he is the only man that can make you smile like that.

But indeed, I was hurt. I was a book you wanted to read but as soon as you got ahold of the main idea, everything starts to get boring. Usually, you would never fail to not make me annoyed each day because as you always say, I cross your mind every time. When you were indulged in your relationship, I was forgotten.

It was all my mistake and you don’t have to feel guilty about it. I may not have any expectations of you loving me, but I had hopes and that’s what made me receive pain. If I hadn’t hoped you would be with me, hoping you forgot about him, hoped you could see I am just here waiting, hoped you could realize I can treat you better, then both of us wouldn’t get hurt. It’s my fault and I’m held accountable to live in regrets.

But even for a split second, I am happy that I am capable of distracting your worries and making your day better. I wasn’t thinking well in the argument a while ago but I did get the benefit. Seeing you happy, makes me happy. So letting you go is the best choice for both of us to receive joy. Scratch that, I don’t have the right to tell you I would let you go.

Because I never stood a chance did I?

[YOUR JOURNAL]

After graduating, I moved in with Christopher. He let me listen to some of the tracks he had created to stop me from bothering him all day.

The music he had composed was nothing personal and was based on people from different perspectives. I had never felt the same experience as well but something about the way he writes and produces brought me to tears. The pain and emptiness inside were well shown in the midst of harmonies. He was also a genius writer with well-structured sentences and livens up feelings in the words to make the listener feel as if he or she was the one narrating it. His father is a musician, but to think he would be able to express that much in songs just shows how deeply connected he is with music. He wasn’t motivated because he tries to stop himself from being like his father but it was a pity for him to stop something he is incredibly good at.

“You’re really something Christopher! Do you know that?” I hugged him from behind and heard his little laughs. “I think I’ve fallen for you all over again. But honestly, I knew you’d write and produce this good” I wore on a smug look as he asked while giggling because of the face I’m giving.

“How?”

“How about calling it an intuition from an expert music lover?” You playfully rolled your eyes in my response because you expected something more detailed. You urged me to explain it to you so you’d knew my opinion about the music and so I did.

“Your words are beautiful that it makes me believe anything you’ll say, Christopher” I smiled and kissed your cheek. I rested my head near your neck as we were sat on the bed, facing each other.

It was true. You made me feel different feelings and opened up a new perspective to move on from my past. You influenced me a variety of changing thoughts. I don’t like the idea of losing myself to someone because it forgets the real me. I don’t like the concept of being crazy in love with people because it doesn’t feel sweet somehow whenever the risk of it being one-sided and unable to move on is present. Not realizing that whenever the talk comes about you, it feels heavenly. I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t yours but it all feels enchanting. Although you made me insecure, at the same time you made me laugh throughout the day. You were a gold rush. Perfect and gentle, to think that someone like me got you is like winning once in my entire life. Luck is rare but fate was there. By fate, it turned out you were destined to meet me and get me out of the hell hole, no one tried to do. By fate, it means I will love you and will forever do. By fate, we’ll stand strong and fight the cracks alongside our journey.

[CHRIS POV]

You wouldn’t take a no for an answer when I was asked to create more songs. A single shed of tear from listening to my music encouraged you to push more song requests unto me. Make-me-a-song was all I could remember hearing from you.

I remember you publishing one of my songs and I was accepted by it. You were jumping up and down as I was worried about its outcome. I was starting to get known, that was also the beginning of how the unforgivable musician started to forget about the important ones in his life. It was as if the result would be dragging my only light into my darkness. I don’t want to be a musician and yet, here I am composing more songs even if I knew what was coming soon.

I’ve started with light romance that I think you’ll enjoy but seeing you look so happy with just a simple work of mine, gave me that motivation I least wanted to have. And like a recorded cd, everything was played the exact same way in different men. I hated it but it was truly like father, like son.

I continued to write songs with deeper ones but as I got the recognition all the more, I produced as if I was possessed. I was indulged in the way words can be conveyed differently and ideas, stories, and theories were constantly overflowing my mind. I was wrapped up in music and I hated myself for it. Even though I despised the process, I couldn’t help but continuously write. All of my pent-up feelings in the past years were expressed in my songs, making me create heavy tracks and don’t run out of stories to tell. The man I’ve been hiding and was traumatized from came back and it’s as if he mocks me that we are on the same page after all. I felt myself sinking and sinking despite you telling me that I am not like my father because I made you feel the definition of love. I was trapped in a room with no escape that relates whenever I had started making music, I couldn’t get out of it. I wasn’t forced but this drive is what makes me continue because I feel like I’m creating a new genre that makes people deeply appreciate and maybe understand what I’ve been going through.

4 years came by but it felt like days in my studio.

“Chris, are you sure you’re fine? Get enough rest okay?” the young girl called me but I was busy finalizing the song.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied shortly after your question. I wasn’t paying much attention so I didn’t know the accurate response for it.

“Anyways, what’s that ab-“

“I’m working on music that’s going to be showcased and submitted to the famous JYP company later. It is really important so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me by asking so many questions. Come by later, we’ll talk about it then.” I looked at my watch on my right arm and noticed how I still got a few hours left before attending the ceremony. The albums will be released soon after but I have to submit another title track.

I was busy with all the scheduled dates and songs that I hadn’t realized

she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Mr. Bang Chan?” hours came by and truly the CEO came. We have a friendly bond and he gives me advice so it’s casual for him to call on me. I hurried up to the door and went to the car.

“Why didn’t you invite her to the big event?” The CEO of the company asked me to start up a conversation. He crossed his hands and tapped his fingers as if he thought of something so deep and significant because he was getting impatient.

“It’s a big hassle. She isn’t good and comfortable in interacting with people she doesn’t know” I simply stated and smiled for respect.

“I don’t interfere or meddle in the personal affairs or lives of others but I hope you aren’t neglecting her because of this, are you?”

“She will understand” I looked up to the car window and stared at the illuminating lights from buildings. I know you took a lot of time waiting for me, but please don’t give up and let me finish this song about you. By then, our Disney-like dreams would finally come true and I swear I’ll make you even happier.

I held a box of ring in my pocket. I’ll make you happy, just hang a bit in there okay?

[YOUR POV]

The CEO told me about the new album he’s been working on. It was about his first love. It would be no other than me, right?

I went up to his room and read the paper scattered alongside his desk. There were lots but I decided to read the one that I assumed was already done. It was near the porch and I understood how he wanted to compose in front of the moon.

The moon shone brightly that night

but I realized that wasn’t my source of light

You look lovely

as the smiles you beamed lasted an eternity

I was persuaded and lost in thought

unknowingly, my heart was caught

Because even under the moon, you’ve shone the brightest

and cleared my problems at most

Even under where light lies,

I was indulged deep in your eyes

Even when it illuminates through the void,

a different view is what I’ve enjoyed

Because even if their minds were fixated on the scene,

looking at you felt more serene

I stopped reading the paper and placed it back on the desk.

“That can’t be me..” I thought.

Starting from the mentioned smiles, how could that be me? You stated you enjoyed looking at me, but I felt like I was invisible whenever you compose songs. Did you make songs while thinking of me? I don’t think so. You should’ve known that you were dragging me along with your darkest nights. I wasn’t even your light anymore, it died down. I was overshadowed by your passion or the one you’re talking about in this script. Can I still make you happy? No. Am I still happy? No. The whole lyrics proves how you didn’t even take a single glance at me right now. Because if you did care, you would've known I changed because you did. I changed because the person I was relying upon, didn’t find motivation in me. We started together but it lost while it progresses just like how you started music because of me but lost my figure in your sight along the way. It was reality, I was being forgotten. When I was alone crying, where were you? I know you don’t understand me quite well but I was the whole climate. I changed for seasons unlike in the past where it was mild swings. Because you know what hurts the most? Not the fact that I waited and kept waiting as I am already used to that and no matter how many years it may take, I’ll always wait for you. But it’s all because everything went back. You picked me up from the trauma and showed how love is but it’s as if my past resurfaced from the waters and told me how tragedies would always stay the same. That I would always end up this way no matter who I’m faced to. I felt guilty for slightly regretting that I praised your songs. Indeed you were meant to be connected with music and it’s your passion. I’m happy that I was able to show it to you but wouldn’t these happen if I didn’t start it all? I was wrong. I thought it made you happy but no. None of these made us happy. Your pieces of music weren’t to blame, I shouldn’t be blamed and neither were you. Where did everything go wrong? I don’t know, it just started to fall off. These lyrics were deeply engraved in my mind. You seemed so in love when I wasn’t able to show you what love is. If it was a person, she must’ve been so kind and understanding. She must’ve been someone who understood your secrets and feelings. And me? I couldn’t still get to you. I’m confused about what’s best for you or what you wanted all along. I don’t recognize the woman you’re writing about. Either it was the past me or someone new. Chris,

who is it that you’re in love with?

Cold air rushed through my skin as I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of calm air. It wasn’t possible but it was enough to make me feel calm. I still appreciated our moments but I feel like I can’t wait anymore, Chris. It’s not because I’m tired but because I feel like you’ll be better without me. I hate the idea of me regretting I showed you your passion. I’ll be nothing but a whole burden. You’ll meet someone better who recognizes your life and by then she’ll be a brave one who can communicate with you. You’ll find someone new, or you already did. If anything, happiness is all I need in the end, at least at the ends of the world. It did happen. I was happy because the next thing I’ll do will be the bravest thing I had ever done after all my cowardly decisions in life, and it’s all because of you.

I stood up at the top of the porch and imagined a vivid scenery. It was you kneeling down to someone new. She did accept it and you were celebrating. Tears ran down my cheeks but was I smiling? Yes, it was indeed happiness seeing you take a break from the pressure and realize you needed to receive joy. I wasn’t able to give it to you but to think someone else would, contrasted the happiness and pain. “It’s time to let go” I opened my eyes slowly as I thought and saw the moonlight. I snapped out of my thoughts and cleared out my head. Because no matter what happened in between us, you crossed my mind in a second. And that’s when I knew, I still loved you despite the bittersweet rain.

[CHRIS POV]

I heard sirens in front of the place that doesn’t feel like home anymore. Why? I heard how young and innocent the girl was and it was a pity to see her leave. It was a shock for me to the point that I hadn’t shed a single tear. Empty, hollow. It was all I could feel at the moment. Was she gone? Did she conclude to leave her out of my life?

Paper. That’s all I’ve seen on the desk. It’s prohibited to enter but I couldn’t believe what I’m seeing. The paper was crumpled and I believed you took the time to read this. Was my perspective wrong about you? Wasn’t this about you? I read the paper without further thinking and realized how I painted her as an angel. She is human, she was a human. Yet I’ve acted as if she was happy all the time, trying to save me from being a mess. Did I take a look back at her? No, instead I assumed too quickly. But what could that change? I was late and you’ve already given up. I was this close to preventing this but because I was so into writing a song made for you, I had forgotten the purpose to the point that it doesn’t seem like you anymore. Can I turn back time? If only I could. I needed to feel your warmth, I needed to see you one last time. I need you.

“Excuse me, do you know the victim?” A man from the authorities asked.

“Yes.”

Mixed emotions were vivid. I felt guilty but hoped you were happy in your last breath. The context of mines was complicated and I didn’t even notice it before. I abandoned to treat, as what I comprehend. Miscommunication rode the tides but it was undoubtedly true when I started to ignore people that surround me. I want to focus on you without realizing I left you. Is that even possible? It is now that I’ve seen it. Just like CDs, everything was played out in deja vu. People were different but things were just the same. It was how I became just like the person I despised all my life. But I did it for a reason, it’s not like I forgot about you. I just didn’t think how your feelings are right now but pursuing this song, is how I still remembered every bit of you. Would the ring I held on be given if I arrived earlier? No, I should’ve realized. I should’ve loved and made you feel how important you were to me in the days back then. In times you felt a hole in your chest, I should’ve been there to feel it up with love. I should’ve been there when you felt insecure. I should’ve been there when you felt all alone. But no matter how much I hurt myself, tear myself apart, it all ends with “I should’ve.” I’m sorry I couldn’t show you what I wanted to. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you until the very end.

I continued explaining to the man,

“She was my fiancée”

would you love me if I let go?

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katsuflossy · 4 years

Text

Misguided Spark

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x black reader

TW: Suggestive themes, some obscenities, Becky

A/n: Why do I always get inspired by Tiktoks 😭😭 but anyways I’ve been giving Mr Bakugo wayy too much attention and neglecting our shocky boy Denki. So please enjoy!!! 💕

P.S. credit to my bb @iiminibattlehero for giving me a title when my brain was pooped😣

You’ve been with Denki for two years. After joining Uravity’s agency, you’ve met the bolt of lightning that struck through your beautiful black heart (this was after many failed pickup lines and one failed date that resulted in your favorite shirt getting seared off.) Denki did nothing to conceal you, in fact, he showed you off despite your protests; the few couples photos on his Instagram told the story of your love life—not secret but it’s none of your business.

So why do his fans pair him up with every other hero?!

You would’ve understood if he was shipped with his friends and other heroes in the Big Leagues; your reputation being Uraraka’s sidekick had granted you some fame but you hadn’t reached the big pond yet.

However, his mass of fans and reporters paired him with everyone under the sun—heroes and sidekicks alike—except you. Just last week Mina nearly choked out a reporter because he trailed her during her patrol, asking what she and Chargebolt did last night. Who knew a simple drink with close friends would spread like wildfire over the news. Oh, not to mention you were there too, holding Kaminari’s hand and laying your head on his shoulder. Your brown face and body had been cut out from every magazine seen the next day. The picture of Mina and Kaminari at an older drink night resurfaced on your timeline, showing Mina slapping his back as he choke-laughed on some beer.

You didn’t tell Denki your insecurities about the whole world romanticizing him with other very pale—except for Mina’s case—heroes. You can picture his exact laugh, his hand falling on your cheek while affirming you had nothing to worry about. You’re his lovely lady forever and always.

However, tonight was a different kind of irritation.

The bedroom finally fell quiet, your steamy session released the sexual tension during today’s joint practice. Kaminari’s eyes followed your heavenly molded ass all around the gym, and your own followed his nicely sculpted back when it was angled in your peripheral view. The deed was done now. Your finger made pointless drawings on his naked chest as you laid against his stomach, looking thoughtlessly up at him and his blonde glory. Two nude bodies curled against each other in comfortable silence.

At least that was the case until your phone pinged due to a notification. Your phone glowed the Twitter symbol, the only app you used to keep up with the hero scene and news. One glance at the title and you wished you had put your phone on Do Not Disturb.

Chargebolt's with a civilian fiancee?! Read more about the Electric hero dating top American chef, Becky Gudhear, and their secret relationship.

Your lips formed a scowl at the picture. The blond female chef was entering a car as Denki held her umbrella above her head, the rain clattering against the umbrella as he smiled at the lady. Only for you to remember the next two minutes after the photo was taken; Denki snatched you up, running through the rain as both screamed in delight.

You shot up from his muscular chest, the middle of your brows creased and your brown thumb scrolled through the hashtags. Denki looked at you before going on his own phone.

Deku’s ratty shoes @noticemesemmpai: “I didn’t know Denki liked white girls *this goes completely with my fantasy*”

Ground zero’s harem girl @otakuforevaava: “Not him cheating on Mina.”

Ground zero’s harem girl #2 @lemmebiteacrumbofdatass: “@otakuforevaava Nah, he’s with Jiro. Did y’all not see when she gave him that hug?”

Your eyes darted from one ship to another, none ever mentioning you, before throwing your phone on the mattress. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, removing yourself from its comfort to pace around the room in frustration. Denki cocked a brow at your strange behavior; you weren’t usually this upset and if you were, you’d simply just watch baby videos until you perked up. The screen glowed through the mattress despite being faced down, holding the secret of your furrowed eyebrows and sharp glare. He took up the phone, showing all the news outlets, fan mentions, and titles creating a relationship not with his black girlfriend but with some random lady that he helped out of the kindness of his heart.

“Damn, they’re really going bonkers over this one act of kindness. Is Chivalry that dead?”

“As dead as their brains are.” You grumbled out, flopping back on to the edge of the bed.

“It’ll die out in a week. Give or take.”

“Or not at all. They always come back when they spot you 6 feet from this lady, then resurface this same picture or even better crop me out and photoshop her in it!” Your outburst was met with silence and a wide-eyed, very concerned lighting wielder.

“...but it’s cool tho.”

“(Y/n)? Why didn’t you tell me this’d been hurting you?” Your gaze averted to your fingers, twiddling as your embarrassment heated your cheeks.

“I didn’t want to because I thought you’d think I was silly for thinking like that. Plus, I was the one that told you that being with a superhero like you will make me look like a whore trying to climb the ranks.”

“Silly? Baby, I nearly threw your teddy bear across the room because it was looking at your ass too much. If anything I’m the silly one.”

“You didn’t nearly throw Parker across the room, you did throw him across the room.” Two pairs of eyes went to the slumped bear at the opposite corner of the room. It’s patched tongue ratty due to the force it was a victim to.

“... And I’d do it again.” Your attempt to sigh only released the giggle in your throat as Denki continued.

“And baby? Fuck what these tabloids are saying. You’re a skillful fighter and Ochaco’s number one sidekick! If that isn’t a fine, brave, amazing woman then I don’t know what is.” Your body tingled in warmth, unable to hide the physical effects of his compliments as wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him straight on his lips.

“Thank you Denki, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet.” He moved out of your embrace, kneeling to set his phone up on the bedside table. The lamp was used as support, showing the front camera the entirety of the room.

“Denki? What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry doll, just sit there and look pretty.” He continued to tap against the screen before a familiar symbol popped up.

Tiktok, one of Denki’s favorite apps, met your eyes as it began to start up. Denki was one of the only pro heroes on Tiktok, which garnered him 5.5 million followers, and at least a million views each video he made. He swiped and scrolled until his eyes lighted up.

“Go put on my shirt. I don’t want them seeing any parts of you only for my pleasure.” You raised an eyebrow at the request but still complied.

“Now come here, sexy.” Your footsteps hesitantly approached his side of the bed, unknowing about what scheme he made up in his brain. You stopped right where the camera couldn’t see you but you were too far for his liking, so he grabbed the plush of your thigh, pulling you close enough to bury his nose into your flesh.

“That’s more like it. You ready?”

“Denki I swear to God you better answer me. What are we doing—”

He tapped the screen, unaffected by your threat, and began to record. The beat was all too familiar before your eyes widened and your face erupted in heat. Sex Talk?!

“Aye uh...ahhh.” He wasted no time getting into character, sticking his tongue out as he winked at the camera. Your melanin-rich thigh stared back at you through the phone, making it known that the leg Denki held indeed belonged to a black person. His hand, under the shirt, kept firm on the back of your thigh to ensure that you stayed within the frame as he continued his Tiktok.

“Aye, bad bitch tastes like cherry kiwi, real big titties these double DDs.” He sings out the song, pointing to your very exposed thigh. Your face hot, the thought of this going online burned your face with not only embarrassment but also excitement. You buried your face in your hands as Denki skimmed your leg with his nose.

“Mwah…” He pressed his lips against your flesh, the epicenter sending tingling waves through your body as he looked straight up at you. His eyes twinkled with mischief as the sound ended. He grabbed the phone before you could reach it, hitting ‘post’ before you could snatch it out of his hand.

“Denki! Your PR manager is so going to kill me.” You scrolled through his phone frantically; it was already pinging with likes and comments from the video posted just 10 seconds ago.

He plucked the phone from your hands and placed it down on the table.

“Never mind that baby girl. The song said a bad bitch tastes like cherry kiwi and I suddenly forgot how that taste. Maybe I should sample you again…” Without ceasing he pressed his lips against yours, ready to start the night off again.

(H/n)’s footstool @blackshipper: @theeofficialy/n this you? *Chargebolt’s new TikTok*

Chargebolt and (h/n) sittin in a tree @comegetyalljuice: I fucking knew it! (h/n)’s living our Chargebolt fantasy.

Stream Sex Talk by Megan @kpophoebutnotondalow: If your man ain’t kissing up your thigh like Chargebolt did with (h/n), is he even your man?

Mirko’s left rabbit foot @westanMirko: Guys, that’s not @theeofficialy/n, that’s Mirko duh…

You rolled your eyes at the tweet before scrolling through the rest of them. Denki’s chest raised and lowered as he looked through his own phone. Suddenly, you received an email notification. Your eyes widened as you read its body.

“Denki! Some talk show wants us to come in and talk about our relationship. They finally recognize that I’m your partner!” He craned his neck to face you, offering a smirk at your excitement.

“Good, that’ll show Parker who you’re real man is!” The teddy bear stayed in the corner it was thrown, now laying on its side, looking solemnly at the bed.

“You’re annoying.”

“You still love me though.” A smile spanned your face as you inched closer to Denki’s. Your lips met his in a soft embrace before withdrawing.

“Yeah, I do.”

#bnha kaminari denki #bnha kaminari x reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x poc!#bnha x black!reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari x black reader #kaminari denki #bnha kaminari denki x reader #bnha denki kaminari x reader #bnha kaminari #kaminari denki x reader

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galladerocksgamer · 3 years

Text

Okay so I love the Paranormal Liberation War arc, it does so much fantastic stuff, dang near perfect across the board. But I think it’s pretty widely felt that the pacing got a bit off the rails near the end, we had big reveals and character moments stacking up and half of them barely even felt relevant. And me being the person who just thinks about things in depth and for long periods, I’ve still been dwelling on it for months. And now as the manga has continued, I’m finally seeing how some of the aforementioned War moments could have been better executed in different situations, because honestly this latest arc seems like it would have been tailor-made to address them all. So lemme take a closer look at three different components here: Mirio/Eri, Bakugo, and Hawks.

1. Mirio and Eri

Probably the most random moment from the war’s climax, don’t think anyone was predicting the sudden return of Mirio to battle. I love Mirio, he’s one of my favorite characters, but it was a pretty anticlimactic way to bring him back into the fold. He doesn’t even really bring anything special to the battle, nothing uniquely Mirio. His role is just backing up Best Jeanist against the Nomu, and anyone could have done that. Burnin could’ve arrived sooner, or Manual and Rock Lock could’ve come back after getting the injured heroes to safety. Heck, if you still wanted the Nighteye agency to be involved, then Bubble Girl and Centipeder could’ve been the cavalry to help Jeanist. But instead Mirio returns unexpectedly and none too remarkably.

And on top of that, we’re basically just told “oh by the way Eri has some control of her power now.” Something that the series had been building up toward for awhile just … occurs off-screen with no forewarning. Really feels like a disservice to Eri and her development to not give that intense moment any real spotlight.

It felt extremely weird for me at the time, but I also kinda wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the coming arcs just couldn’t afford to place focus on Eri and Mirio, so their respective developments were tied together to lend an extra surprise to the war’s final bout. But instead this most recent arc has gone the opposite route … through the return of Chisaki.

The man once known as Overhaul, now thoroughly broken and wanting nothing more than to fix his one great regret. With Nagant’s defeat, he winds up back in custody, but having now once again met with Midoriya and made his wish known. So indeed, the opportunity arises for Eri and Mirio to be brought back to the forefront. I don’t doubt that we will indeed have at least a brief glimpse at Eri healing Chisaki’s boss as Midoriya promised, but the potential for that scene could really have been through the roof if it was the impetus for Eri to willingly use her power on a person for the first time.

Imagine Midoriya coming to Eri with that heavy request, of Eri deciding to offer this kindness toward Chisaki of all people, using her power to heal before the man who always told her that she could only destroy. Because really, I don’t think there’d be a question of that, we know the kind of kid Eri is, and she won’t let anyone suffer if there’s any way she could prevent it. Even if Chisaki was the person asking, there might be hesitation and fear, but is there any doubt she’d offer what aid she could in the end? And for Pops to be the first person she helps, to undo the harm carelessly inflicted by Chisaki … well, it’d certainly be poetic.

As for Mirio in this scenario, that could go a couple ways. Route 1: Eri is hesitant to help Chisaki with Pops because she would rather help Mirio get his Quirk back, and we know that her power seems to have a bit of a limit on it via the energy stored in her horn. So what if it did work, but she ran out of juice healing Pops and then made Mirio wait even longer? Well, of course that’s exactly what he’d insist on, he wouldn’t let himself take priority over another person in need of Eri’s help. And he’d take it all in good spirits as always. Or Route 2, if there was concern that Eri’s power could run wild while trying to help Pops, then they could go the complete opposite direction and have Mirio offer to go first, to be the guinea pig for Eri in case of emergency. But of course, he’d have full faith in her all along and coax her through, ensuring her of just how helpful and brave she always is.

So yes, can see how Eri and Mirio’s development could have taken a more satisfying route, and cap us off with some good ole Chisaki angst to boot (though at least we’ve still got a decent serving of that). Now moving on …

2. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight

So Bakugo’s long and arduous journey of personal growth reached a new peak during the battle with Shigaraki, where his body moved without thinking and he underwent his true heroic awakening to protect Midoriya. Such a sacrifice seems like a perfect cap for his development for the War arc … and then a couple chapters later he forces himself right back into action to back up Best Jeanist, and as promised he reveals his over-the-top hero name to his mentor. In this case I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the reveal, but in light of his preceding big heroic action, it really feels like a hat on a hat.

It’s not like Bakugo’s hero name heralded some major turning point for the battle; Jeanist’s arrival (and subsequently Mirio’s) had already assured that. And like Mirio, there wasn’t any real special reason for Bakugo to rejoin the fight with the Nomu, especially with Iida and Hado on the scene. After getting skewered by Shigaraki, it would have been pretty simple for Bakugo to just spend the rest of the fight bleeding unconscious on the ground, rather than complicating matters by shoving him back into the fray. And ultimately, the moment feels a bit anticlimactic. All the suspense waiting for Bakugo’s hero name, and then it’s revealed at a time where he barely even has the spotlight.

Of course, such a bombastic name as “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight” doesn’t particularly lend itself to a quiet or emotional scene, so it wouldn’t be thematically fitting to move that revelation to Bakugo’s hospital bed or his somber apology to Midoriya. That said, given his decision to announce the name first to Jeanist, there would at least be precedent for him to have a “Dabi says secrets in a black speech bubble” moment in the hospital in which he talks to Jeanist but leaves the readers in the dark, before coming back to the actual audience reveal later on.

And there must certainly be other opportunities to present the name appropriately. Bakugo is a master of making an explosive entrance, after all. And when Class 1-A finally catches up to Midoriya, if Bakugo really wanted to make a big impact on his friend/rival before getting into the sentimental stuff, then it would be a prime chance to reveal his hero name in grandiose fashion, both to Midoriya and the audience.

Or if his hero name had been Kacchan, then that reveal would have fit right in with his apology to Midoriya, but that’s neither here nor there

This could be one scenario, of course, but it hardly feels like that would’ve been the only option. And compared to the crammed-in reveal in the final fight with the League, it’s easy to say that there could have been plenty of smoother roads to take. But setting that aside, moving onto the final touch:

3. Hawks

The long-awaited Hawks backstory doesn’t really disappoint. Admittedly, there weren’t really a lot of holes necessary to fill in there; we’d had enough bits and pieces provided before this point to pretty much put together the whole picture of his crummy childhood. But even without any really surprising turns, the flashback is welcome and hits some good emotional beats. But really, the glaring issue in this area is the timing.

We’re presented this backstory at an instance where Hawks is hardly the most relevant character. Shigaraki is undergoing a personal crisis as All For One seizes the reigns of his own body, Endeavor’s dark history has been exposed and the Todoroki family is in turmoil, escapees from Tartarus roam the streets, and Midoriya consults internally with the vestiges of One For All ... and the narrative decides to take a chapter to look at Hawks. Practically nothing from his flashback directly relates to present events, serving only to further emphasize his already well-established devotion to Endeavor and his (misguided) understanding of Twice’s feelings. The timing is just kind of baffling, especially with some other more appropriate places being readily apparent.

For instance, only a dozen chapters later, we’re properly introduced to Lady Nagant. As Hawks’s predecessor within the Hero Commission, the two have a lot in common, and the similarities and differences between the two could set up some interesting comparisons if Hawks’s backstory was saved to follow up Nagant’s. Two idealistic young children, handpicked by the Commission and groomed into assassins, yet whose outlooks in the present day are starkly opposed? Nagant's guilt driving her to turn on the Commission, while Hawks holds few regrets despite the blood on his hands, longing for freedom from the Commission’s grasp? That kind of parallel could really have built a more solid foundation for Hawks’s past to be laid upon.

That could be an effective setup, but there’s another approach I’d actually much rather have seen, one that brings Hawks’s backstory not later, but earlier: during the dramatic confrontation between Hawks and Dabi. The instant that Dabi reveals he knows Hawks’s real name, the story opens itself up perfectly to dive into his past. And the timing would be superb, showing Hawks at his worst as he murders Twice, then turning back the clock to look at the innocent child who just wants to save people. A little boy whose feathers tingle with the need to rescue those in need, superimposed against the man whose same feathers are used to deliver the killing blow to a victim of hero society’s ills. You want angst? Now that’s how you do angst. Placing the backstory there would play up the tragedy of both Hawks and Twice simultaneously: a “hero” raised by the Commission to cut threats to their control short at the root, and a “villain” who could have been a kindred spirit but instead suffers for their would-be friendship.

And that’s not even the icing on the cake. The real matter of interest here comes in Hawks’s view of Endeavor. By the time we get to Hawks’s backstory, all of Japan has already learned of Endeavor’s history from Dabi, and the result of the timing feels a smidge tone-deaf, and fails to realize the full potential resonance of the situation. The flashback to young Hawks as a victim of child abuse, who is rescued (unwittingly) when Endeavor arrests his father, is presented to us as the moment when Hawks realized that heroes are real, not merely a fantasy. We see why he developed such an ideal view of heroes, and why he is so specifically loyal to Endeavor ... so just imagine if all that was presented during his showdown with Dabi. Imagine if all that came before the tragic revelation of Toya Todoroki. The true terrible irony, that Hawks was rescued from his abusive father by someone secretly guilty of the same crimes, that Hawks’s whole epiphany of “real heroism” was founded upon one of the most corrupt enforcers of all.

The end result would be the same, I’m sure. After all, this is certainly the same thought process Hawks was going through all along, and his decision to maintain his faith in Endeavor’s personal growth would presumably remain unchanged. But presenting Hawks’s backstory before Dabi’s would have opened up a lot more room for us as the audience to actually see Hawks’s views be challenged. If there’s one real complaint I’ve got about Hawks’s character, it’s that we don’t really tend to see him questioning himself or his actions; whatever happens, he rolls with it and presses on, no matter how his ideals are brought into question. But this simple matter of timing could go a long ways to remedying that, granting the audience the chance to watch Hawks grapple with his personal image of and approach to heroism, and his relationship with Endeavor, rather than allowing most of that to pass unseen in the wake of the war’s end. Even if he would ultimately come to the same conclusion, at least such a narrative structure would provide a much more satisfying presentation of his struggle up to that point.

So, I’m not great at endings, but that brings us to the conclusion of my rambling though process here. To recap, the more I’ve thought about it, the more obvious it is that the backloaded War arc could be remedied, and the following arc only made that more obvious. Why force Mirio’s return so soon when he could be tied in later with Eri mastering her powers and the desperate pleas of Chisaki? Why shove in Bakugo’s hero name when the boy has already made a tremendous impact on the arc, and will be more open to further focus during the conflict with Deku in the next? And why throw in Hawks’s backstory as a standalone chapter at a time when it’s largely irrelevant, when there was such great potential to emotionally contrast him with the backstory of Nagant or Dabi? These are the kinds of things I think about. Little things, really, and honestly the whole reason they stand out to me is just that the rest of the arc around them is so dang fantastic. So … yes. This is the testament to my love for this manga, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, byeeeeee

#mha #bnha #mha manga spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #paranormal liberation war

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yusuke96universe · 3 years

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Underappreciated Dragon Ball Character: The Crane Hermit's Story

The Crane Hermit is introduced as a very one-dimensional mustache twirling bad guy who quickly faded into obscurity, but after digging into his history and connecting the dots, I found him to be a rare 3 Dimensional villain from classic Dragon Ball.

I mean the dude starts out as a rich snob, humbles himself while befriending his one time enemy and forges a brotherhood with other martial artists under the same dojo. He even is so loyal and brave to the point of fighting alongside his brothers in arms to the bitter end against a horde of Demons. To top it all off, he was even willing to do it again when suggesting they come back and try to defeat King Piccolo again right after barely surviving their first encounter with him. This is very much in tune to what many noble members of the Dragon Team would do, meaning at one point, Crane was a redeemed villain like half the Dragon Ball cast, but willingly CHOSE to return to his old evil ways.

And this only happened after his master gave up the fight which turned his heart away from the light, as if GOODNESS itself betrayed him and/or the lure of the evil King Piccolo's power could've swayed him to be the self-serving man he is today. I would love to explore that side to him because there has to be something still awesome about him for Tien to have held such high respect for him

This is the story that I pieced together from watching a string Crane Hermit related episodes.

He is first introduced in Roshi's picture book as Roshi's good friend and owner of Inoshikacho with early designs before they shaved their heads and started wearing their master's uniform, like in the flashback of them fighting against King Piccolo. Those designs are used two more times, when Roshi climbed Korin's Tower and trained for 3 years gaining the power pole and Nimbus, so they must've looked like that for a few years at least. We get more details on their lives when Mr. Popo sends Goku to the past and meets a sort of cowardly or at least less confident Roshi, we know that this is more of a simulation of the past because this is basically used again for the humans to fight some weak Saiyans in early Z, so the events of Roshi and Crane starting out as romantic rivals in their teens and Crane's highly inflated attitude without any strength yet to combat Kid Goku implies that he came from a wealthy upbringing like a lot of similar people in old Kung Fu movies. You put these together and you got a very interesting character Here is how I rationalize it-

Roshi and Crane's bickering/ fighting over a girl likely got them disciplined hard by their mutually shared master, Mutaito. (Whom they both respected and studied under) Young Crane respected enough to restart his training over from scratch rather than being expelled during the Kid Goku goes to the past episode, so the probability that this would once again apply to a young Crane and possibly young Roshi in this new context seems pretty high. The punishments was probably super harsh and severe, probably was too much for Crane's flunkies to bare and they quit early, but NOT Roshi or Crane. They both are WAY, WAY too stubborn to quit early. Plus the thought of not wanting to be outdone by the other is what probably aided in pushing themselves past their limits throughout the harsh punishments and the intensive training.

So now it's basically two teenagers, one from a humble background and the other from a privileged background. Both with a lot of beef. Now stuck together alone. So while they're busy being bickering and competing, perhaps that girl they both were interested in, Fanfan, found herself a boyfriend in the meantime, leaving both of them heartbroken.

Now, since they are in the same boat together, they can start relating and bonding with one another as teenage punks do. Talking about mistreated they are, how unfair things, mostly complaining and roasting one another, etc. But the important thing is, they put their differences aside to overcome the challenges in front of them and this newfound bond leads them to becoming best friends.

The rivalry while healthier becomes stronger with time though because they're young and brash so Roshi goes to Korin's Tower at some point for bragging rights and Crane probably did something equally outrageous in an attempt to one up him, like maybe he won a Martial Arts Tournament or completed some grand trial of their dojo or something.

After being studying together for many years, they shave their heads and join the other students in wearing the formal uniforms of their master, so this is likely the peak of their disciplined lifestyle as Martial Artists.

Eventually this school made a stand and fought to the last man against Demons that terrorized and devastated entire cities and destroyed armies, harming countless innocents in the process. So in order to face such a threat implies a strong brotherhood and loyalty within the group.

Also the effect of his master giving up the fight being one of the factors for his turn toward evil implied that the Crane had great respect for him and that was the greatest disappointment of his life, plus the allure of power that King Piccolo showed must've been too tempting for him to resist so he left the losing side and returned to a lifestyle similar to his origin, using his skills in service of his own self and living it up in a lavish style (as shown in how much of a big spender he is and comparing his hotel room to the Turtle School's). In doing so, he purposely pushed away all the great teaching his Master had taught him, deeming them as weak or worthless for what he believed to being truly strong in his own distorted mind. He desperately needed someone like his Master to correct his misconceptions, and maybe at one time Roshi tried to, but failed because Crane closed off his heart to his once best friend (kind of like Gintoki and Takasugi frrom Gintama) who exemplifies everything he now hates and stands against.

Though some lessons still stuck, like loyalty, specifically to his brother Tao. Which is his prime motivation in the 22nd tournament was to avenge his brother and he even lamented on how they never patched things up so he tried getting justice for him instead of blaming himself. Dodging accountability, but accepting responsibility. Proving maybe even he is not too far gone, if he felt their was even a point to change.

But that doesn't mean he was the nicest brother. His pride and jealousy couldn't stand the idea that his brother was far more naturally gifted than him and so he attempted to sever one of the few remaining bonds he has in his long life of losses, with his own hand because of his own inferiority complex.

He allowed his greed, anger, pride, and jealousy blind him to what would've been his greatest legacy as a Master of Martial Arts. His students. The most well known are Tien and Chiaotzu. Who he long since failed to guide them to the righteous path which led them pass the point of no return. Tien and Chiaotzu were one in a million prodigies that he wanted to turn into a mere weapons at his command. To make matters worse, these self-centered, cruel and down right malicious teaching actively corrupted Tien's nature and forever shut his Third eye's truest abilities. So he didn't nurture his disciple like he was completely capable of, instead, he actively/incompetently crippled his number 1 student forever preventing him from reaching his full potential by stealing his birthright. Truly failing as a Master.

He makes one last appearance in the 23rd Tournament feeling betrayed and wronged, but leaves as a coward. It is such a shame to see what once was a great man, how far he had fallen.

His Death. Toriyama mentioned that he and his brother Tao Pai Pai got in over their heads and died somewhere in the middle of Z off-screen. In-spite of all of his gifts, he utterly failed as a Master by actively trying to spite everything his Master taught him and what did all of his efforts and years of experiences gift him with? An inconsequential death that will not be remembered, which is heartbreaking for a man who was once and could've forever remained as great as the fan-favorite Master Roshi. It is a shame because unlike his teacher, he never redeemed himself, not even in death. What could've been a Legend, instead turned into a Cautionary Tale.

Honestly, it is such a shame that this character wasn't utilized more. I've got a few more Crane Hermit related headcannons, some from when he was younger, some of how he could've been used after the 22nd Martial Arts Tournament, like a role in the King Piccolo Saga since that is so closely tied to his past, watching his continual, but strained relationship with his students, etc.

#@bushidraw #dragon ball #crane hermit #dragon ball classic #tao pai pai #general tao #tien #tenshinhan #master roshi #muten roshi #headcannon #dbz #cautionary tale #shen #shin #crane shcool #failed master #master mutaito

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tilions · 3 years

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A long way from home

I always wanted to write something about Maglor's wife Cellin and how she goes searching for her husband. Daeron also made his way here and I'm not complaining. The relationship between him and Cellin can be interpreted however you want but I think of it as queerplatonic.

It had been her goal to find a lost, sad minstrel but as fate played out she ended up with the one she didn't go on a journey for. It was her first journey without any family or friends accompanying her and from the start it had seemed like it would be a lost cause to even go and search for him. Even her always optimistic father had said that such a search would be fruitless.

If someone doesn't want to be found, my dear it becomes an almost impossible task, he had said and smiled in her general direction.

She knew he wasn't just saying empty words but that he spoke from experience. When father said serious things like this he was always speaking from experience but Cellin was never brave enough to actually ask what had made him think that way. What had made him believe this was the way of things?

Now she looked in the direction where Daeron was waiting for her at the end of the pathway some people of the atani had made and wondered if her experience will be different from her father's.

Sure she hadn't found her husband - yet - but someone else whom her people had believed was lost forever.

Would she return with only Daeron in tow, the Sindar would probably praise her for bringing back their lost prince and maybe refrain from referring to her as the victim of her husband's wicked power, brainwashed and manipulated like they also did with Elrond whenever he spoke up in his father's behalf. Or rather done up until rather recently, since Cirdan had noticed it. And if there was one person in this world who could match the terrifying way in which Cellin's mother could show her disappointment, it was Cirdan.

Now the thing was that Cellin's didn't set out to find Daeron and she wouldn't return with only Daeron in tow. Even if everyone else would be overjoyed. Cellin's journey would have missed its purpose and she wasn't sure if she would ever find the courage to set out on another one ever again. She would always find something to do instead of traveling alone, no matter how much she yearned to see her husband again.

She was not an adventurer. Not in the sense in which they are portrayed in stories. She liked to travel in good company, with her family, their little caravan of wagons and a song on her lips, a known destination ahead and nothing to worry about except for the place they would rest at night. She was a comfortable person and she was wise enough to admit that. Her husband had known this too and never pushed her to do things she didn't want to do especially when it came to traveling.

Sure they had to pick up a more nomadic lifestyle halfway through the war but this had been a necessity not something Cellin could decide against. She could have decided against going on this journey and that's where the difference was.

The matter of choice.

She followed Daeron down the path further south, through the lands of those of the atani who not yet had discovered the wheel and who still lived in huts made of clay and dried grass. Those people watched them pass through their little settlements with wonder in their eyes, trading their knowledge of the land willingly for one of Daeron's songs or Cellin's handcrafted toys for their children.

Celllin could watch them for hours for they had not yet seen the terrors of the world and lived and thrived at their own pace, much like her own people had done according to legend.

Neither her nor Daeron spoke much with one another. Their travels were wrapped in silence, like they were strangers… which they weren't.

Cellin had been Daeron's friend when both of them had been children and they had done everything together, had shared secrets and made promises. Cellin was sure that if she hadn't met Maglor she would've ended up marrying Daeron, even if she wouldn't have loved him in the same way she loved her husband. And if she was being honest she still would marry him any day, not out of the same love that she felt for Maglor but out of a very similar feeling.

She didn't know if he felt the same way. He had always been incredibly difficult to read even during the time when they were the closest. But once again she was not brave enough to actually speak to him when the silence between them became too much for her, instead she would start humming some silly traveling song her father had made up of she would keep herself distracted by watching their surroundings with even more care than necessary.

She noticed the side glance he would give her but since he never said anything, Cellin assumed he just found it silly how she behaved.

Only very rarely would he join her in her silly songs and those were some of the most carefree times on their journey, reminding Cellin very much of her life before the War, before the Fall, before everything. Those moments never lasted long and she mourned them once they were over. The memory however she kept close to her heart, so that it could make the silence that would always follow again more bearable.

"We're coming closer to the shores," Daeron said one day when they once again left an atani village behind. "I can smell the salt of the sea."

"Can you?" Cellin wondered. "I didn't know that."

"Me neither," he replied and shrugged. "Father never allowed me to go near the shore and I never actively went there myself even after I left."

"It's… nice," Cellin said but tried not to think about the last time she had seen the sea, tainted red in the blood of yet another fight her father-in-law's path had caused his son's to take.

"So I have heard but there is even more. Some of the villagers spoke of a ghost that roams the black shores to the southwest, with a voice as enchanting as a siren - whatever that may be."

He didn't need to say more because Cellin knew what this could mean. She would've loved to cry out in joy.

"We shouldn't get our hopes up," Daeron said and put a hand on her shoulder. "Humans tell many tales and most of them prove to be quite untrue, they're not good at remembering history correctly."

"Every tale holds a bit of truth," Cellin shot back and Daeron just nodded.

Neither of them asked the other why they hadn't bothered looking near the sea in the first place, given that everything Cellin had heard always said that her husband was wandering the shorelines, but then again Cellin had never asked Daeron why he was helping her and Daeron had never asked Cellin what she actually was looking for. There was a silent understanding between them, that didn't need questions or answers.

They took the little they had and continued to travel, this time with a destination in mind and Cellin felt how this alone made her feel much more comfortable.

The closer they came to the shore, the more frequently they were plagued by storms and rain. Thunder would roar high in the clouds with the might of ten thousand lions and lightning would strike across the dark skies as bright as a star. They would huddle together under the cover of the trees, Daeron's large cloak covering their heads, shielding them from the cold, the rain, the lashing winds.

Still they didn't speak much but the silence between them was different now. Cellin couldn't put into words what had changed but she wouldn't dare to complain.

She would wait and listen to the thunder, the distant waves, the howling winds and Daeron's quiet breathing near her ear. And sometimes, sometimes there was something that sounded like a voice carried by the wind but each time she thought to hear it it would be swallowed by some other noise.

"It's not your imagination," Daeron would tell her, calmly stroking her shoulder. "I hear it too."

"Just like you can smell the salt?"

"Hm.." He replied and smiled faintly. "Just like I smell the salt. Come now the sky is clearing up. It is time to reach the shore."

Eventually they did so and it was as the villagers had told them. The sand upon these shores was a black as obsidian, as the darkest night under a starless sky but it was warm underneath their bare feet when they walked on it, following the distant voice even further south.

Cellin wondered which part of the world they had reached now and whether her husband would lead them to the end. How far would Lake Cuivienen be from where they were now? And would it be like her father and mother had told her? Should she ask Daeron if he wanted to go looking for it on their way back?

…

If he wanted to return with her and Maglor that was. She wasn't sure if he would. Maybe he preferred to travel like this? Was it possible that he only helped her find her husband and would leave them once they had done so?

The thought actually made her sad and before she knew it she was wiping tears off her cheeks. Tears that had somehow found their way from her eyes and didn't go unnoticed by her companion.

"He's not far, no need to cry now. You'll be able to go home with him soon enough."

But what about you?, she wanted to ask but her throat could produce no sound aside from ungly sobs. Won't you come with us? Will you leave us? Again?

He stroked her back and helped her silently through the avalanche of emotions that had overtaken her heart.

Eru, she loved him, as much as one could love their best friend, as much as one could love their family. She wouldn't want to go home without him, leave him. It would feel like leaving a part of her soul behind. She knew that feeling all too well, she had experienced it before and she didn't want to live through that pain again.

"You're not crying because you're happy to see him again?" Daeron asked.

"I… I am happy," Cellin replied when she found her voice again. "But I'm also sad because finding him would mean for you to leave us."

He remained silent then and in silence they continued to walk, towards the voice that was lamenting, only fueling the many feelings that were battling inside her chest with all the sadness told of.

Daeron's hand remained on her shoulder for the rest of this short way.

#maglor #daeron #oc cellin #maglor's wife #tolkien #silmarillion #silm fic #fic #my writing #tolkien elves #tolkien oc #my oc

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

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Male Drow (Dark Elf Vevmis) x Human! Female Reader Part 5 (FINALE)

The final chapter to The Underestimated, so I hope you’ve enjoyed this five-part series. - Stay safe guys -

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The Underestimated Part 5 (FINALE)

Of the high shadows and prowling outlines, you acknowledged them as your demons and mistakes; even when you were locked away in slumber.

The seclusion swarmed you, it was just as cold and sharp as you had remembered it being; more so bitter than a fever.

The people: the people you saw, of the distressed faces of your mother and father, opposing of your wants and desires for medicine and to become a doctor, the subtle words of those who said you could never do what you dreamt of craving; their words wanting you to give up.

You were belittled, laughed at, told to give in and try something different, all while telling yourself one day, you would prove them wrong.

Maybe even in the eternal slumber between the states of existing and drowning, you could not even prove yourself anything, nor them.

You couldn’t remember much: the scuffle with the group of Drow, the pain you felt that had numbed in your flesh, Vevmis-- oh, Vevmis, was he okay? Alive even?

You didn't want to believe it, never in a thousand years, but you accepted that his kind hadn’t been so merciful with sparing his life. The darkness, was this what all Drow saw in the Underdark?

When you had to open your eyes, the reality was dim and sullen, the sky was overcast and drab, with the sound of rain flooding through, dropping down in buckets around you.

You could hear it properly: the sound of the drops hitting the roof of something with such force, smashing down like a wave over cliffs below.

You keened softly, shifting, your bones creaked with the make-shift bed that you laid on, where you felt the dull ache reside in your ribs, your head tender from how you had fallen.

There was a sound that vibrated beside you when you registered it, not realising someone was there, talking you through something thoroughly.

Standing before you was a high elf that had been described many times before in the books you had read: of knights who were bold and brave - he looked to be one with his rich gold-green mail; a bleeding star sigil in the breastplate.

He was towering like all the other elves except he was pale in complexion compared to Vevmis: pale-silver hair that came past his waist, braided back, it fell beautifully past his shoulders with little movement when he moved. He radiated the pride his kind held grandly; with his appearance made him look like royalty.

With a hard disdainful look; his eyebrows raised to you when you saw his features, his eyes carefully: one eye was as fair as spring growth, whilst the other had a long fading scar that reached just above his eyebrow arch and down the middle of the lid - the pupil the hue of dull clouded moss.

You watched his mouth move open and close, his eyes scrutinising you when you didn’t answer but rather gape. When you came around to it, you blinked owlishly. “What?-”

“Common? Do you speak Common?” He asked impatiently.

“I-Yes. I do.” You found your voice again, the hoarseness resided in the back of your throat and when you moved your tongue, it ached with the pain of veiled swelling. Your fragile hand came to touch at your throat waveringly rubbing it.

The high elf sighed beside you, bringing forth a cup from his grip, holding the back of your neck so you had no other choice but to take down the liquid, the cup coming to your lips. “Drink, it’ll help your head.”

“What- I-” You choked nearly between swallowing and talking, your words muffled as you took down the earthy mixture; as syrupy as marsh water.

You nearly gagged but took it down, squeezing your eyes tight as you drank it down with too much force, finally having it removed from you as you wiped your mouth from the slop. There was a consistent feeling in the back of your mind, driving you to speak the one thing you had been worrying you since you had come around.

“Vevmis-- where is Vevmis?”

“The Drow?” He leered at the one word, his face wrinkled. “Probably fighting my men. Provoking them of some kind.”

Your heart sank like lead in a river, dropping to the bottom, your eyes glaring back at the high elf once more for little regard. He sensed your disdain for his mockery, stepping away but keeping his posture stiff as bark.

“I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be most eased to see you awake.”

“Yes, uh, thanks-“

“Fenrith.” He coolly replied, leaving with not much else to say, leaving you surrounded by the deafening sounds of the weeping sky. You listened to the best of your abilities, hearing nothing but the rain pour heavy through the tent you were in, the only body surrounded by hundreds of empty ones.

A lost soul. You lamented. Perhaps that is what I have been in this life, nothing more than a nuisance. Your head was pounding, thrumming like a constant drum who’s percussionist is consistent in the rhythm and pace. A pair of shuffling feet heavy and chaotic could’ve sounded similar to the heavy rain falling around you, but your eyes had known well enough that the footsteps belonged to someone important.

The smell of rainwater strung up your nose when you heard the smallest of exhales released, a cold damp hand brought you out of your misery with a startle when it touched the knuckle of your hand.

Your name was spoken so soft you had mistaken a spirit to of been present at your bed instead of the Drow. Vevmis’ presence was dishevelled and unkempt, the rain had soaked his silver hair to look nearly greying in the dim light, his amethyst eyes so sharp and clear. “Vevmis.” You croaked, trying your best to shift to reach for him.

He noticed and with some tentativeness and wariness, came to the side of your bed and kneeled, his shaking hand came to hold at your head carefully, his eyes glistening with opaque drops that looked like rainfall. “I’m here.” His voice was gravelly as if he had been caught mid-screech and was trying to cool down.

“I—what happened?”

“A camp came through, just before we were to both be executed. A Band of the Faith regimented by whatever high lord ruled that area came and slaughtered them, putting each one of them to the sword, sweeping through them like butter.”

You were a loss for words, astonished. “They spared you though.”

“Hardly,” Vevmis had laughed humourlessly, his wine-red eyes flickering, “I knocked one of their teeth in when I had the chance to, another I broke their arm.” You chortled dryly, knowing that Vevmis would do such a thing. “they dragged me chained and bolted to the end of a horse, where we ended here in their camp. That was almost—” his light eyebrows scrunched in awareness, “that was almost three days past.”

You were left wordless, thinking about everything to yourself silently, the pressure of his hand on yours a soothing reassurance to bring you back to reality. “But I promised myself that as soon as you would wake up, I would get you out of here, no matter how.” There was a brittleness to his word as if the promise to you was everything you needed, but he knew more to the end of the story, a few pages ahead.

“You… wanted me to get back to my village, didn’t you?” You questioned softly. The Drow’s’s face fell downcast, full of emotion compared to when he had never once shown it anything to you but callousness in the beginning. “Vevmis, you know I cannot leave you.”

“But you could, and that is for certain. You could go and live and die in your quaint little village and live a wonderful life, with a husband and child, but what about me?” His irritation was not hot nor full of rage. It was him having to grasp at this being his only choice. “No matter where I go, my sister’s wraith will see to have me miserable in this life and beyond. No matter where I go, I shall never be welcomed.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at his words, the Drow hadn’t raised his voice nor show any tears. But he had shown you that there was a growing part of humanity he had that you had shown him and he had grown to accept one human. “You wish to become a doctor, but you will wish to become one in your village.”

“How so?”

“It has been your want, and you have that want to help people.” Vevmis accepted. “I cannot be happy anywhere.”

“I have a want- yes, but I also have learnt much more along this journey with someone who I did not believe would accept me.” You began. “There has been so much we have gone through and I will not stand to just have one person happy, Vevmis. I will not stand with it.”

He squinted his eyes quizzically to your words. “What do you mean, pet?”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you once, one that had the connotations to something sour and awful, but now, that little word had become something so much sweeter. “What do you dream of, Vevmis? The arrival of spring? Eternal wealth? To live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and live the rest of your days as a farmer?”

He had smiled at them all, but he had not said yes to any. “I could see spring every year and not miss it. Wealth only makes you happy for a short time, but not for forever. And to live on a farm spreading cow shit? Now, perhaps that would be your dream. I like no animals.”

He had cradled your face in his fingers, stroking the flesh there. “No, one thing would make me happy, and that would be to be beside you and live out the rest of our days in contentment.”

A soft groan had come from the pitched bed and the soreness of your bones and body when you had tried to sit up, Vevmis was hesitant in letting you when he helped you to the end. You had collected the strands of his moonglow hair, a small smile on your face when you had spoken.

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

The glare had been bright but heartening, it soft glows came in through the gaps of the sheltered interior, with the smell of buckwheat and hay strong in the air. Maybe a long time ago, Vevmis would never have believed he would’ve liked the long days of the summer, but he had grown to like many things.

His dirk had been shining and pure, the cool smooth silver-blue stone had been clasped in his hand when he sharpened the silver blade over and over again; his own state of euphoria and tranquillity that had lulled him into a dream of hope.

He couldn’t have lied if he said he didn’t like the smell of nature around him, the constant essence of being outside, with crops flourishing in an everlasting heat that grew throughout the day and never ended in the nights.

Through the afternoons when the sun was not so high, he found serenity through meditating, controlling his breathing and going into a state of silence, breathing in the past and exhaling the future. This, he found was the most peaceful thing about his days, resting and keeping out of the sun and seeking shelter for a state of serene.

He had been known he was being watched when a small sneaky snap of hay came from metres behind him, the noise that made Vevmis’ ears prick upwards immediately, a small smile gracing his features, pretending to remain oblivious.

The steadiness made Vevmis count in-between the waits, his breathing stilling as he awaited the strike, the moment for all to go stale and cold- “Gotcha!”

A squeal came when he had been as quick as a deer, he swiftly grabbed the culprit and raised them high above his head, the joyous sound of laughter filling the sweet air. The Drow lowered the small one down, his wine-coloured eyes assessing with false discipline. “You almost had me there.”

“Almost,” Vevmis had looked over the little one with curls of silver-white just as bright as his, dusky skin with freckles along the skin, bright eyes that no Drow had before. “but I’m becoming quick.”

“I could hear you as soon as you were by the door, Rayelle.” Vevmis grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “But you’ll get there.” He was swift to once again lift the little girl up and swing he around and about, her joyous giggles and squeals echoing through the barn. “Again, papa!”

“No, we must get inside before mama has a go at the both of us.” He said, before finally putting his daughter over his shoulders, her small dusty feet dangling just below his neck. “You’re not wearing shoes, pet.”

“No,” Rayelle grinned from ear to ear, holding her father’s silver hair in her round fingers, “mama told me to get you.”

“Ah, so you thought you could test your stealth on me?”

“Uh-huh!” She beamed, pulling at his long ears.

“Hmm, you will have to remember them for next time. It is dangerous not to have them out.” Vevmis hummed as he sheathed his dirk into its holster, knowing that his daughter’s eyes were on the blade when he put it away. “When will I get a sword, papa?”

“When you’re older.”

“But I am older than I was today.”

“When you’re older than you already are tomorrow.”

“Aww.” Vevmis knew she had been pouting, so he compromised. “You can have a pony or another goat. I know your mother would like another one of both.”

“I don’t want a pony.” Rayelle thought for a moment, giggling to herself as she blurted. “I want a dragon!”

“A dragon huh?” Vevmis chuckled warmly. “They smell and always burn things. They would be irritating.”

“But I’d get to fly! Like now!” Rayelle brought her arms out to both sides, swaying side to side as she screeched and roared. “I am Zirenth the Old!”

Vevmis rolled his eyes playfully, pretending to sway with her when she rocked side to side. “Come now, young dragon. Before mama dragon calls for us.”

The two had wandered through the long tall grass, watching over the endless sunset that was beginning to fall slowly across the horizon, a sea of trees below in the distance. Vevmis wondered had he hadn't gone with you and lived this life of solitude, what would his life be like now?

They entered through the back of the small home, the soft humming drawing Vevmis to the kitchen as he lowered Rayelle off his shoulders. The small home you had made five years ago had been filled with old scrolls of sepia and tubes full of crushed medicines and herbs, the constant smell of sage and mint burning in the air; a healer you had become and a good one too.

“You two back in?” You called. “Mama! I’m a dragon!” Rayelle pretended to breath fire when you came through to peer at the two, needle and thread you had put down as you picked your daughter up.

“Oh, and what a mighty one you are!” You exclaimed brightly, Vevmis watching from the side as he took in your matured features of the new wrinkles you had picked up and small fine silver-grey wisps growing through your roots. You had still looked beautiful in his eyes, no matter how much you had aged within the last few years.

Your eyes had been on him when he had looked to him, the glint that he had know a long time ago, bright and bold still. “But I see another one not too far. He is rather old too.”

He had chortled dryly at that as he neared to you, running his hands over your hips and along your waist. “My little family of dragons. Bold and daring, my two girls.”

You leant over to kiss Vevmis’ lips, earning an exaggerated “eww, that’s gross!” from Rayelle, before lowering her down. “Come now you two, dinner is ready. And this dragon wants to eat everything before it is consumed!”

Rayelle joined you with a linked hand as Vevmis joined behind, smiling broadly at the life he had made.

Maybe his luck wasn’t so thin.

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