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wildflower-cake · 10 months

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Short stories

Here's a collection of some short stories that I had posted on my dreamwidth but as I'm here now, it seems better just to move everything. There's a little bit of everything so I'm sure you'll find something you'll like!

Running

Originally published August 17, 2013

My parents tell me that I’ve been running ever since I was born. Not running from anyone or anything – just running for the sake of it. I went straight from crawling to toddling around on my little legs as fast as they could carry me, and never ever stopped.

But every so often, even I needed to stop to catch my breath. Today was one of those times.

This house in the forested mountains was the closest thing we had to a base. A home. We always came here when we needed a break, help, or even just company. They were loving, fearless, open and generous, and I couldn’t do without them. Their home was a sanctuary of love and nature, and electricity for our laptops.

I sat cross-legged on the mattress in the back of the van, feeling the sun’s rays warming me through the open windows. It was rare that I was alone these days, so I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and just listened. The morning birds were awake and starting their daily routine of endless calls, extraordinary in their diversity. I could hear a gentle breeze flowing through the thick bushland, rustling the leaves ever so gently. There were distant sounds of cars and activity in the house in the valley below. I could hear water quietly gurgling away in the fountain in the front garden. These quiet moments were all I needed to recharge. I was ready to run again.

I opened my eyes. Frankie was sitting next to me on the mattress, his deep green eyes regarding me with slightly blank affection. I smiled.

‘What’s up, Frankie? Did you sleep well?’

He said nothing, as per usual. Instead he blinked at me and curled up beside me. I gave the black fuzz on his head a little scratch. He made a peep of contentment and settled in.

I returned to the task at hand. I grabbed my flat brush and stirred the brightly coloured goo in the bowl, careful not to stick my face too close to it. I took the brush and started painting it on my head, working from my part down, staring into the mirror, intent on my task. Distantly, I could hear a voice calling my name. Haley. Haley Dee.

I looked up in the mirror to see Thom striding towards me with a cup in his hands.

‘Blue again?’

‘Why not?’ Blue had always been my favourite colour. It made me feel happy, calm, and alive. It kept my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds.

Thom put the cup down on the little shelf next to the mirror. It was tea. Hot and sweet.

The smell of the dye was pretty noticeable. Thom wrinkled his nose and looked down at Frankie.

‘How can you stand it, bud?’

Frankie didn’t stir. He usually didn’t until someone mentioned food.

I took a sip of my tea and instantly felt human again. I sat in the van and stretched my neck and fingers. My fingers were starting to itch. I was already feeling it. Thom watched me through the mirror.

‘Are you ready to go?’

I smiled. 'Yes.’

Walking

Originally published July 29, 2013

I started walking away from the city. Walking, walking, walking. I never stopped, never looked back. I couldn’t stop.

All I had were the clothes on my back and my boyfriend’s shoes. Mine were bloodstained and ripped. They squelched. His were five sizes bigger than mine, but they were all I had left. Of him. Of me.

The blisters were terrible, but at least they reminded me that I could still feel. That I survived. Still alive, whatever that came to mean.

I kept walking. It was all I could do. I walked the flesh off my bones and the skin off my feet. I walked until my nose bled and the shoes became rags. I walked to eat. I walked to drink. I walked to forget.

I was going anywhere. Going nowhere. No past, no future, no present. Just me and the silence.

I still walked. Someone had to.

ZombieCon

Originally published July 1, 2012

Three figures circled the teenage girl, slowly closing in around her. They were shabby and dishevelled, clothing ripped and torn, shuffling, their feet scraping along the concrete ground. Their faces were twisted into horrible expressions, their hands reaching for the girl. Their faces and clothes were covered in dried, old blood. Some appeared to have eyes missing, and some had skin missing or just hanging off.

The girl was frozen. She had nowhere to run, no way to move. She couldn’t fight back, dressed only in a short skirt, thin midriff shirt and high heels. She just watched and waited for the inevitable. Their fingers grasped her flesh. They all leaned in, aiming for her neck and mouths, softly moaning, their mouths opening, ready to sink their teeth in-

CLICK! FLASH!

The figures instantly stopped and fell away. They smiled. The girl’s boyfriend checked the photo on his camera.

‘Great! Thanks guys!’

‘No problem, dude,’ one of the zombies replied.

The girl and her boyfriend disappeared into the crowd, his cape trailing behind them. It was SuperCon time again.

SuperCon was the highlight of the year for many people – a two day convention where fans of many things came together, dressed up, bought merchandise, and met their heroes. Wandering around the 10,000-strong crowd on day one were zombies, cartoon characters, caped superheroes, and robots, as well as people plying their wares – merchandisers, comic artists, authors and special celebrity guests. The day was packed with activities including costume contests, panels, signings, and performances. The exhibition centre was packed and buzzing with excitement.

Crowds waited in line to get their books signed by favourite authors, or handed over money to have pictures taken with their favourite stars. Crowds surged from place to place listening to seminars or watching competitions. Overworked volunteers and administrators in bright uniforms zoomed between the aisles, herding fans into orderly queues or getting coffee for a guest. The Artist Alleys teemed with traders and buyers, flipping through books and listening to increasingly desperate sales pitches.

Volunteer medics and ambulance staff also zipped through the crowds. It was hardly unusual – people wearing hot full-body costumes not drinking enough water, or a sexy comic book girl falling off her heels.

The caped superhero and his sexy cheerleader girlfriend spotted a lone zombie, in a quiet dark corner, almost hidden from view. He loved zombie movies and there were people around with such good makeup. The three zombies they took the photos with before were pretty good, layering blood and latex, taking care to make the skin colour to their applications. Some people had faces that looked like they slapped melted wax on, but the effort was still appreciated. It was a tough thing to do – faces sore and sticky by the end of it. The couple were determined to get photos with every zombie they came across, provided they finished in time for the cosplay competition, of course.

They approached the lone zombie. He was just standing there, facing the wall, seemingly in thought, contemplating quietly. The caped hero approached him.

‘Hey, do you mind if we get a picture?’

The zombie slowly turned around. In addition to his clothes being artfully ripped and bloody, his skin was an unearthly shade of purplish grey, mottled around his neck, where a wound gaped open. Underneath was a mass of tendons and veins, drained and bloodless. His eyes were red and splotchy, as if haemorrhaged. His mouth and tongue lolled open as he very slowly staggered towards the girl. Amazing accuracy, the hero thought. He even smelled authentic. But, it was a very hot day and he must be boiling under the latex.

The hero readied his camera.

‘Ready? One, two, three… BRAINS!’

‘Brains!’ the cheerleader called brightly. The zombie didn’t say brains, nor did he react to the camera flash. He just continued on his course, gripping onto the girl with his cold hands, his mouth zeroing in on her pale, delicate neck, unwavering…

‘Hey, let-’

The girl let out a harsh squeak, her face contorted with pain and fear. Blood poured from a small wound in her neck. She dropped to the floor. The zombie followed her. The hero pushed him away, blindly punching him in the face. He staggered and fell, and then started crawling towards the girl, who was lying in an increasing puddle of blood, twitching. The area suddenly flooded with hired security men and police, easily a dozen of them, all chattering away on radios, headsets and phones. The hero was confused by the babel as one security officer directed him out of the way. Paramedics swooped in and took the girl away. The hero tried to go after her.

‘No, son,’ the security man said. ‘You need to stay here. There’s nothing you can do for her.’

‘What? But I have…’

‘Stay here,’ the man said forcefully. ‘Don’t make me restrain you.’

‘What? I haven’t done anythin-’

‘Be quiet.’

One police officer stomped past him, his words discernible as he passed.

‘We have a level five biohazard situation…’

The hero didn’t even attempt to ask for an explanation. He could see the security officer fingering the Taser in his holster. He looked around. A wall of police and security prevented him from seeing the rest of the convention. The zombie was gone, presumably taken through an open emergency exit. One of the paramedics marched up to him.

‘Did he touch you?’

‘What?’

‘Did he TOUCH you?’ she snapped.

‘I- I don’t know.’

She then jammed the needle she held in her hand into his left arm. He was too shocked to even speak.

‘Just in case. Go to the emergency room if you have any symptoms.’

Then, just as quickly as she came, she left.

His head spun, his arm smarting from the force of the syringe. He had no idea what was going on. The zombie was gone, as was the girl. There was no trace of blood. Cleaners had already taken care of it. He obviously wasn’t allowed to ask any questions.

A police officer approached him.

‘Name and address.’

He gave it automatically. The officer wrote it down and put his notebook back in his pocket.

‘We will contact you in the next few days. Say nothing about what happened here. We will deal with the girl’s family. Clear?’

‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

The officer looked around. ‘We’re done here,’ he declared. The police and security disbanded, and melted back into the crowd. The superhero stood in the corner, all alone. No one was even looking in his direction. No one noticed. No one saw anything. He too then merged with the crowd, and said nothing.

Remains

Originally published April 24, 2012

I no longer recognise the city where I was born.

It’s been three years since it all started. They asked me to come across the ocean, back to that place, where I was both given life and my name.

It stood eternally, proud and unapologetic, for thousands upon thousands of years. It saw wave upon wave of invaders and defenders, many changes of name, language and people. Many grand buildings, and not so grand ones, pierced the skyline, hugging the river that was its vena cava. We used to admire the old architecture, laughed at the modern ones, shaking our heads at the misguided ingenuity of man. The river now lay stagnant, almost filled in, desperately pinched. It was full of the remains of those buildings, as well as many of the millions of the inhabitants, bones lurking under the muddy surface.

I would have given anything to see the modern buildings again. Anything recognisable. The city beside the river lay degraded and twisted, ruined. It had been only a few years since my last visit but the world was so changed by the event and its aftermath that I may as well have been away for an aeon. Its trees were completely grey and brown, trunks hanging down into the river or across roads and dirt.

I don’t know how, but I survived. I was one of the strong ones. I could still walk unaided and had all body parts present and accounted for. That’s why they asked me to come, to help the few who were still alive. The contamination was still present but at acceptable levels, apparently. I’m not entirely sure about this, but it’s hard to tell when you don’t even have sufficient power to run an x-ray machine. If you could find one that still worked.

The deformed metal skeletons of structures loomed over my head. I could still see the shattered glass panels that were hanging precariously in place, the charred interiors, stonework crumbling and ripped away. Bricks and boulders and steel beams were still strewn across the street in the less-used areas, starting to accumulate moss in the damp. Thankfully most of the bodies had been removed from the main city but I’m sure, in a city that size with millions of people, there are still thousands out there, locked up and unburied. The underground had been sealed off since it all began, and no one dared venture down into the endless, fetid tunnels. So many people had sealed themselves away down there, like they had done before, but there was no more safety there than above ground. It was everywhere and there was no escape. No one knows for sure but from my own experience, I would say that the percentage of deaths from suicide in the immediate aftermath would be around 30-35%. God knows I thought about it myself, but it wouldn’t have been fair to all the people I watched die.

I stepped off the small boat at the makeshift jetty. I looked around, desperately trying to get my bearings. All the bridges, so many bridges across the river, lay in pieces. Some had been patched with wood and stone, but very crudely. Roadways, wires and pavements lay jutting up from the river in sharp chunks, the rain having washed off the blood and ooze. At least it still rained here, although you could only be exposed safely for five minutes, and that was a guess at best. The sky hung low and heavy, but hopefully it would stay dry. The air was so thick still, and it was a little hard to breathe.

The ground was cracked and crumbled. I carefully stepped around the piles of asphalt and dirt. I heard a voice say, ‘Be careful of the sinkholes.’

So it was true. We’d heard at home about massive sinkholes appearing in the city, the extensive underground structures succumbing and collapsing from the stress of the disaster and lack of maintenance. But it was hard to verify what was going on in other countries. Communications were patchy and infrequent, mostly word of mouth and rumour. This is what it must have been like before the invention of the telegraph. Even if we had the power, even if the magnetics had been unaffected, the satellites were still falling out of the sky, massive holes punched in them by the infinite debris in orbit, which in turn created even more debris. There was a rumour that the International Space Station was knocked out a couple of months ago and landed in the Kalahari Desert. The Internet and even phones were for now a thing of the past. We didn’t even have the capacity to find the oceanic co-axial cables, let alone restore the connection. Basic messages were carried by those strong enough to travel but that happened sporadically – fuel was precious, travel was rare and messages could take months to get between bases.

We all walked slowly and deliberately. Apparently new sinkholes were appearing every day, and there were a couple close to where we landed. We walked uphill from the river, and the pale moonlight grey stone of the buildings, charred and patchy in parts, seemed very familiar. There was a frontage in mosaic that was largely intact, and I saw a name I recognised. It was an old train station. The red, black and white signage of the streets confirmed my suspicions. Only then it hit me. I remember being 21 years old, lining up outside one of the beautiful and grand consular buildings in the area because I needed to vote in my country’s elections, on my own for the first time and feeling content. Even after all I’d seen, I couldn’t help a tear coming to my eye.

I looked around. The church in the middle of the road that I remembered partially remained, its columns stripped for rebuilding purposes. The fittings for the phone boxes were sticking up from the ground, wires splayed everywhere like dropped spaghetti. My guide walked further up the block, looked around the corner, and beckoned me to him.

‘Slowly.’

There was an acrid smell in the air, faint but discernible. This must be a sinkhole.

I crept slowly towards the corner. I could see the pale earth around the remains of the road. I caught sight of the hole, and had to step back as I experienced a dizziness I’ve never felt before.

My guide sat me down a couple of feet away, but I felt compelled to crawl closer to look again. I couldn’t stop staring.

The sinkhole was about 50 metres across, at a conservative estimate. The drop was sharp and sheer, the pale dense earth covering the rock strata. Rubble was piled at the bottom, and there were various broken pipes and cables hanging loosely, swaying slightly in the breeze.

I couldn’t stop looking at the tunnels. Two underground train tunnels were exposed, the jagged concrete split open. Straight underneath me dangled twisted, rusty rails. On the other side a train carriage hung precariously from the tunnel, the livery peeling and faded from the elements and the remaining carriages barely visible behind. I’m not sure if it was my imagination or not, but I thought I could see skeletons still trapped inside. I stared for what felt like an eternity. My guide gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

All I could think of to say was, ‘Will it fall?’

‘Eventually. The coupling can’t last forever.’

He helped me to my feet, even though I couldn’t take my eyes away from the train.

‘Do you see them?’

He sighed. His face looked grim. ‘All the time.’ He wrapped his hand around my shoulder and steered me away, past the sinkhole.

‘Come on, Doctor,’ he said. ‘The morgue awaits.’

Typetrigger: Radio

Originally published August 22, 2011

‘Radio… live transmission…’

We got up. We moved. We moved in and around the music and each other. Tapped out bass lines, waved to drums, nodded to guitars.

We breathed and mouthed and sang and screamed, changing our voices.

We didn’t even know we were in the room. We didn’t feel the presence of the other people in the room. We closed our eyes and let the flashing lights wash over our lids. There was no carpet under our feet, only air. We could have been anywhere. We were everywhere.

‘Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio…’

We weren’t thinking about the words now, they automatically spilled out of our mouths like an overflowing cup of tea. Our bodies moved, anticipating the beats we knew were to come. The air hung heavily with memories, some not as old as others. We primed our lungs, throats and hearts, ready for the big scream…

‘AND WE CAN DANCE!’

Memories of screaming those words stumbling down a wet, leaf-strewn street in a neighbourhood much cooler than we were, trying not to slip on the slick, star shaped detritus. We were flushed, so happy, full of exhilaration and excitement inspired by a documentary. Trying not to girlishly scream at one of the idols in action during the film. Foggy spectacles from the cold wet and the lingering warmth of the pizza place…

We were still in the room, bathed in light and flashes of glow. Still moving, still dancing…

‘Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio…’

Typetrigger: Bear With Me

Originally published July 12, 2011

I went for a walk in the woods, and there was a bear with me.

I’m not sure how old he was, but he wasn’t a cub, or an adult. I asked him where his mama was, but he didn’t reply. He never said a word over the whole weekend.

I’m not sure how I ended up out here, with this bear. I just started walking. I think I might have been asleep. I woke up in a forest glade, face buried in the bear’s soft brown fur. Just like Snow White.

He was good at keeping me warm. And he would offer me fish, which was kind, but I’m a vegan. I had some apples and gluten-free sandwiches in my satchel, which was almost empty. I had a bottle of iced tea, my sandwiches and a notebook. No phone, no cameras, no wallet.

The sun was streaming through the firs as we padded along in comfortable silence. It was freeing, not needing to speak. The bear was patient as I stopped to sketch or jot down a paragraph or two.

I think I was out there for a weekend. Three days maybe. Not really sure, they blurred somewhat. On the last night, as I bunked down in his fur, he licked my face. As first I was momentarily afraid, but in my heart I knew he would never hurt me. This was, I discovered later, his way of saying goodbye.

I woke up in my city again the next morning, near my house. I turned to see a soft brown flash disappear behind garbage bins. I searched my satchel and the notebook was gone. I’m not entirely sure if I dreamed this or not.

But one day I want to walk again in the woods, a bear with me.

#stories #short stories #horror #gore #post-apocalyptic #whimsical #fantasy #typetrigger #writing prompts #music #original writing #writers on tumblr #zombies

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emailsicantsnd · 1 year

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inspired by @imtalkin but here’s my sabrina story!!!! took a long time bc there’s a lot of history and i remember it all in great detail so this was written in hella chunks bc a girl gets tired 😗 also adding the cut just so y’all are prepared for the amount of stuff that’s under it lol

so i started watching gmw way back when it first aired and first off just felt so seen by maya’s character and then learned that she was played by the incomparable sabrina carpenter right around the time CBAGFT came out and i just LOVED the song right off the bat esp. because i was really into a guy i did sports with and it was kinda my hype song to get me to ask him out (nothing came of it tragically). with the pilot and following the show so intently as well as loving her music from the get go, i just knew i had to follow everything she did. so i kept watching gmw, started my main blog for the purpose of posting about it (it’s still all there at the start of my archive since i was a diehard lucaya shipper and am still not over it) and patiently waited for her debut album after playing the CBAGFT ep to death (and silver nights, her best christmas song).

so we keep watching gmw and she releases eyes wide open and i was sad ONLY bc she wasnt touring near me and i really wanted to see her live! but i of course loved the album front to back. the chokehold the lyric “everybody loves to tell me i was born an old soul” had on me was INSANE. also top three from the album bc i feel like it: your love’s like, seamless, and probably ewo (although i would def put some of the ep songs up there in the top 3 but since we had them before the album i only wanna rank the new album songs)

some time passes and she announces on purpose which will always have such a special place in my heart and always be one of my favorite songs of hers forever bc the day after it was released is when i had the epiphany i was in love with my best friend after spending the night with him and that was the song i played the next morning as i was packing my bags to go home and i realized “oh shit i’ve been in love with him for years” 🥴

finally, she releases EVOLution which also is a special album to me bc that was the first tour i finally got to see her on and meet her! i remember buying m&g tickets in my health class and she was actually coming to my city (never happens) so i was ECSTATIC!!! i will never forget that day of the concert, i was wearing the smoke and fire limited capsule merch she did to raise money for the red cross and a pair of booties i had bought that she had worn that one of those like “fashion of sabrina carpenter” blogs posted back in the day. also that tour was so well set up like the line to get to the meet and greet had a stop at the merch table so we could buy our merch on the way which is so smart and im mad no one’s ever done that since (at least to tours i’ve been to w/ m&g). she was such an angel to meet, i was so stupid and the first thing i said when they opened the curtains to the little photo op was “oh my god you’re you!” and she was so nice about me being awkward and she was like “im me!” i told her how i was such a fan and loved her music and loved gmw and she was so nice and thankful and we took our professional photo and a selfie on my phone and i will never forget how she is the only celeb i’ve met who made sure to ask my name bc i always forget to mention it and she would not let me leave until i told her my name, which she said was a “beautiful name” 🥰🥰🥰 and then i went up to the french fry party upstairs w/ the q&a portion. i think i was like one of the only ppl who asked a genuine question whereas everyone else asked her to record a vid saying hi to their friends. i had asked what her favorite song to write on the album was and she said feels like loneliness “becaue it happened like lightning*snapped her fingers*” and explained the writing process (i still have the vid of her answering my quesiton) 🥰 it was the first concert i ever got to be in the front row, and it was AMAZING like the chair dance??? iconic. the neon signature sign???? iconic. that’s when i knew i chose the right person to stan.

fast forward a while and im still listening as strong as ever, almost love drops, she announces singular, PARIS DROPS and i remember my jaw was on the FLOOR when that came out (im a paris girlie more than a sue me girl like i remember her tweeting something like she’s played both songs and finds certain types of ppl liked paris and other types liked sue me does anyone remember this???). i remember putting my earbuds in and strutting around throughout my day feeling like such a baddie. the most devastating part of this era was that she did not come to my state to tour, and the next closest location i couldnt make it to so i didnt get to see her which was so sad especially bc maggie lindemann was opening for her and i also love her too :( but singular act 1 was and is phenomenal and i adore it so much. not to mention act 2 dropping, i was so glad we actually got exhale instead of it getting the alone together treatment 👀 👀 but im still so sad i didnt get to see any of those songs live. but i am thrilled i’ll get to hear honeymoon fades this month (god i remember the way we acted when she released that song and was dating gr*ffin 🥴 what a doozy that was)

i really dont like talking about the DL drama at all bc it was SO unfair to sabrina and josh and i dont like the way any of it went down and the lack of accountability. all im gonna say is i’ve been a diehard fan of sabrina since day one, and it broke my heart that she went through that at all and nothing could make me turn on blondie. it’s still kinda weird that i have friends that act like it’s a sin when i bring up that im a sabrina stan like bffr y’all are weird for asking me if she’s really my fave... skin was so good tho i loved that song

anyhow, so onto the eics era!!!! my hot take is that i love skinny dipping (the song lmao), but i feel like fast times would have been a stronger choice for lead single 👀 🤷🏽‍♀️ 👀 (like literally just swap the order, release skinny dipping as the second single w/ the video) i played the SHIT out of fast times like she was right especially after learning how short life is after covid especially, these really are fast times and fast nights. also vicious??? INCREDIBLE i was screaming that shit daily until the album came out. and the ALBUM!!!! i was on vacation in california when it dropped so i think im always gonna associate it with staying up late to listen to it while looking out at the city lights from the suburbs. and i ADORED it. how many things had me crying bc call back to the on purpose story from earlier! by listening to it in california which is where we were last togtheter, not only did how many things remind me of him, but being in the same place again??? ouch my heart 🥴 this makes me want to do a ranking bc i love all her songs and eics is skipless perfection but safe to say the album has been on repeat ever since. sadly, she didnt come to my state AGAIN for the first leg of the eics tour, but she is for this leg so i’ll be seeing her this month for the first time since 2016 and i could not be more excited !!!!!!!!!!

ALSO since i dont ever get to tell this story i was one of the winners of the signed sweet tooth perfume sweepstakes which was fucking insane???? one of the best moments ive had being a fan of hers bc that was insane and it smells so fucking good???? the email saying i had won went to my junk folder so im so glad i actually checked it when i did or i would have been DEVASTATED

also the deluxe???? opposite and things i wish you said BROKE ME IN HALF and ofc lonesome and feather are also incredible!!!! she doesnt miss ever!!!!

i feel like most of this is just reactions to her albums and my evolution tour story but it really is just that i’ve been a fan since day one and have not wavered in that, and will always be here for miss carpenter ♥️♥️♥️

sorry that was a lot but it’s been a lot of years i’ve been a fan lol

#sabrina carpenter #sabrina story #so that's a lot lol

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familyagrestefanblog · 3 years

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Theory for “Gabriel Agreste”

Saying that I'm EXCITED for this episode is an understatement, I'm THRILLED! So let me give you my speculation for what could happen in it and how it’ll affect the future, because pieces are literally just falling into place in my brain and I just have to write this down.

The episode is called" Gabriel agreste" because in this episode Gabriel will create a (long time) Sentimonster for himself that'll take his place and cover for him in his civilian life while he himself gets completely swallowed by his Hawkmoth/ShadowMoth identity (which is a direct paralell to the fate Marinette just escaped by telling Alya her secret). He doesn't want to "waste" anymore unnecessary time by having to NOT be Hawkmoth, which then completely separates him from Adrien who very much was one of the last (if not THE LAST at this point) few strings that kept him grounded in his humanity.

The episode takes place right before the middle of the season and since it's season 4 we are talking about here its fair to assume that both Adrien and Gabriel are back at (at least) suspecting each other to be Chat Noir and Hawkmoth again at some point. Adrien is going to be even more rebellious after the status quo break and set up of "Lies" so him maybe (or maybe even confirmed already to Gabriel) to be Chat Noir could definitely be the factor that sets Gabriel over the edge, rips these two apart for good (as I foresaw in my analysis of "Jackady") and brings Gabriel to distance himself altogether while covering his own identity from his son by creating a Sentimonster (bc Adriens secret being discovered by his evil family is already forshadowed to hell and back, just like him ending up getting Homeschooled again this season, mark my words)

---

"Queen Banana" is supposed to take place right before "Gabriel Agreste" and we have a leak where it's seen that Adrien is now kinda taking on Nathalies role since she is (supposedly) still bed ridden.

Seriously, just humour me here and stay with me. This would mean that Adrien would get to see and interact with his father much more often and Gabriel wouldn't be able to ditch everything and turn into Hawkmoth as easily as he was able to with Nathalie.

A cover up Sentimonster was actually already kinda forshadowed in "Party Crasher"

by introducing HoloGabe with the intention of providing Gabriel with alibis and to attend meetings etc for him in the future so Gabriel can invest more time into being Hawkmoth. But a Hologramm is not suitable for every occasion, which is where the Sentimonster comes into play.

At first Adrien wouldn't notice much off about his father and the few things he notices Adrien actually doesnt mind. If SentiGabe is really supposed to replace Gabriel as... Well, Gabriel, that also means as a FATHER and my money is on SentiGabe being created to be a better father than the original. SentiGabe does everything Adrien wanted his father to do in s1-s3: Join Adrien at dinner time, spend more time with him, is in general in better of a mood and not such an unpleasant dick and so on and so on.

Easy to say, Adrien basically welcomes the good change he always wanted in his "Father" with open arms and chooses to ignore things that seem suspicious and the always remaining gut feeling of something just being... off. This will collide with the unveiling of more of the family (+ Emilie) mystery which will for Adrien all continue to point at Gabriel as Hawkmoth because of one event that is likely to happen in episode 4.

I'm currently writing on yet another post about this topic in particular, so I will link it HERE for elaboration once I post it, but in short, I think Rena Rouge and the Grimoire secrets Marinette shears with Alya could be the catalyst of Adrien suspecting his father to be Hawkmoth again.

Adriens memories of the time he went through the Grimoire himself in "Volpina" would be triggered again after seing the Grimoire page Rena (honestly, quite recklessly) brings along into battle and from then on things will slowly pile up until Gabriel deflects from himself with SentiGabe in "Gabriel Agreste" (just like he did in “The Collector”)

People WAY to easily forget how ready and serious Adrien was in "The Collector" when he actually concidered his father to be Hawkmoth.

Keep in mind that Ladybug was only able to tell Chat Noir the weakest reasons of her suspicion against Gabriel (while the Grimoire being Guardian property was NEVER found out by Adrien... til NOW) that being Gabriels mysterious personality and the butterfly logo of his brand.

These arguments are weak because they are ONLY actually suspicious in the specific context of Gabriel being Hawkmoth. Once you have proof against that they hardly hold any ground anymore, hence why both Adrien AND Marinette so easily brushed off these points after seeing Gabriel akumatized. I mean, excuse a designer for choosing a BUTTERFLY as his logo when his last name is literally the name of a butterfly type. The fuck kind of accusation is that??

So I hope you understand that when I say that, yes, these reasons DID trigger further memories/realizations for Adrien in that moment

It simply was only the tip of the iceberg.

The fact that Adrien not only gave Ladybug the fucking benefit of a doubt and heared her out about accusing his FATHER of being HAWKMOTH and took it THAT seriously and wanted to find out if his father truly IS Hawkmoth means that Adrien very much sees his father as capable of being Paris villain Nr 1. This... understanding and acceptance of Gabriels nature already had to be in Adrien much prior to "the collector" to set it off like this. And while normally Adrien chooses to turn a blind eye towards his fathers bad qualities in favor of seeing Gabriels redeeming (and even the rare somewhat GOOD) qualities, Adrien only does so because he thinks Gabriel hasn't crossed the line yet that makes his father undeserving of these loving conciderations. But Gabriel being Hawkmoth IS CROSSING that line for Adrien and he immediately sets aside his remaining/choosen love for his heavily flawed father and willingly sees Gabriel for what he is.

Adrien already did it once with only a few somewhat solid reasons and the Grimoire being kept secret from him altogether,

So he will do it again, just this time the proofs and developments are supposed to stay for good.

---

This development would not only be forshadowed by "the collector"

But also by the episode "Ladybug". There Mayura used a Sentimonster version of Ladybug against Chat Noir, using their love against him. What she didn't know though was that Ladybug actually isn't in love with her partner (yet) which ended up with Chat Noir being put in the situation of having to decide which Ladybug he believes to be real.

Does he believe and hold onto Sentibug who returns the love he so desperately seeks in life or does he let go of his hopeful wish and accept the heartbreaking reality of once again not receiving his love in return from yet another person he holds so dear?

In "Ladybug" Adrien couldn't make that crushing decision yet (and don't clown in the replies about this, not only was the situation vastly different it's also a cruel thing to ask of Adrien) but as we are used from Miraculous by now, that episode was only the set up for future events.

What Adrien couldn't let himself believe about Ladybug and Sentibug he will have to FORCE himself to accept about his Father and Hawkmoth. Same set-up of the Sentimonster symbolising Adriens desperate and hopeful WISH what his loved one were vs the crushing, heart wrenching reality of what his loved ones actually ARE. Just that letting go of his wish for Ladybugs love didnt seem "necessary enough" for the mission to succeed so he just couldn't MAKE himself give her up whereas accepting and seeing that his father is Hawkmoth is going to be one of the most crucial sacrifices of the show, changing the game forever. So as horrible, cruel and soul shattering as this is, putting an end to his fathers villainous reign for the sake of the greater good is a reason worthy enough to force himself through his pain.Which brings us once again back to “The collector” (which seriously forshadows almost everything I love that episode), because there is ONE major aspect that episodes sets up like crazy

And that is:

And thats where we are heading now.

This entire time Adrien wanted his Father to behave more fatherly, spend more time with him and improve his explosive behavior but he always got disappointed over and over again. So how heartbreaking would it be if over the course of the second half of the season THIS would be the very reason why Adrien gets behind Gabriels secret? Because SentiGabe behaved too fatherly for Adrien to truly buy it in his heart and when forced to decide what he actually believes his father to be - like the fatherly Sentimonster or the villainous Hawkmoth - Adrien has to and WILL recognize and accept his fathers true nature and turn against him, as it has been set up for a LONG time now.

This season shit’s about to go DOWN!

#Miraculous #Miraculous Ladybug #Ml spoilers #Ml Theory #Ml season 4 #Episode: Gabriel Agreste #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Gabriel Agreste #Hawkmoth #Agreste family drama #or tragedy #thats more like it #SentiGabe #I am so EXCITED for this episode!!!#Ml analysis

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kmackatie · 3 years

Note

Intimacy+ 28/58/72/101?

I hope you have a good day!

Hello! I am thank you, hope you are too! Here we go with the first one of these. I'm sure I will get around to the others eventually I am sure!

Thank you to @mllekurtz for reading over this one prior to posting, it is a little longer than my 1k limit.

request a prompt from this list here

28 - brushing the other’s hair shadowgast, post canon, 1495 words, cw: non-sexual nudity

His fingers worked soap through the ends of Caleb’s hair, massaging gently and lathering up in the damp. Caleb sat in the large tub, water dripping down his back while Essek perched on the edge, feet submerged and tucked around to keep Caleb stable. A bit of dunamancy was helping him stay upright, with his pants rolled up to knee to protect them, tunic gone with his arms bare dressed in just his sleeveless undershirt.

“Tip your head back for me, sevgilim.” It was accompanied by his fingers gently guiding, carding through the damp strands.

Caleb did as he asked, eyes still closed and breathing deeply. Collecting the small bowl from the floor, Essek dipped it into the water before lifting it and tipping it slowly over Caleb’s hair. Working his hand through it, Essek methodically repeated the process, until all the soap had rinsed free.

“There we go.” Essek was talking to himself as much as he was Caleb, voice deliberately soft so as to not affect the calm peace Caleb had settled into. “First one done. Hmm, lavender, or your usual one with honey? Do you have a preference?” He leaned down, hands still in Caleb’s hair and placed a kiss against Caleb’s forehead. “It is more than fine if you don’t.”

He paused for a moment, to see if Caleb would respond, hands gently massaging through the strands.

“Lavender. Want to smell like you.”

Essek’s lips quirked into a brief smile, before he extracted one of his hands and tipped Caleb’s head forward.

“Lavender it is.”

This one was the closest Essek could find to his favourite conditioner from Rosohna, similar in scent though his was sure made with different plants. Lavender was a luxury, a symbol of status due to how difficult it was to grow. This one was sold for an exorbitant price in Nicodrans, reported to actually be from the Dynasty. It reminded him of home, a pang in his chest he couldn’t quite get rid of every time he opened it, and was the one indulgence he kept with, even now.

Scoping out some of the cream, Essek got to work, hands combing through and massaging into the roots. He moved methodically through it, making sure to capture each of the strands, before repeating the rise motion. There were little words between them, just the sound of Essek’s movements and water splashing, with the odd hum or subconscious muttering breaking it.

Before long, Essek was encouraging Caleb to rinse, and he took the moment to submerge fully while Essek rinsed his hands.

Breaking the surface with a gasp, Caleb leaned backwards and connected with where Essek’s knees were resting inside the tub. His head tipped back against them, and Essek smiled, shifting slightly on his seat to widen his legs to give Caleb more room to sit comfortably. He can’t help but return his hands to Caleb’s hair, enamoured as ever with the multitude of colours buried in there.

Even soaked and dripping, it was still stunning, the hues darkening to a deep russet and ochre that was found in some of the caves near Asarius. Some would call it muddy, and not a colour worth noting, but those people had not seen Caleb Widogast in a tub of water. It had gotten longer in the last few months, rivalling the length of Essek’s before he cut it off.

“Have you ever braided your hair?”

There was a huff of what Essek assumed was confusion or surprise as Caleb shifted under his hands, head twisting around slightly to look at Essek.

“Hmm?”

“Braiding. Have you ever let anyone braid your hair?”

Caleb blinked, processing the question before nodding.

“Jester, once. I never learned how.”

“May I?”

It was posed as a question, even as his hands started to divide the hair, designs and ideas in his mind. It would always be a question, the asking of permission to cross boundaries, to check in and make sure it was welcomed. It was something they had come to agree on, the need for consent and for it to be checked in on frequently.

Caleb nodded, eyes flicking closed as he sunk down a little further in the bath.

He lost himself in his task, hands that were a little out of practice finding their rhythm.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

It was meditative in it’s own way, as his mind focused on getting the patterns right. He paused, one hand with sections of hair cradled between each finger as he carefully turned Caleb’s head, checking on the progress. This style, it was that screamed Dynasty, and was a modification on one he used to weave into Verin’s hair, before they fell out. More intricate than normal, it was difficult to achieve on your own. There were a few strands that he gathered, tucking back in before continuing.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

The style when complete, included four separate braids: two in a lattice style from the front center of Caleb’s head with the ends weaving into the traditional Thelyss-waterfall style, before morphing into smaller intricate braids that joined in a knot at the back of Caleb’s head. He fussed with the ends, tweaking a few places to get it to sit just right, before he sighed, hands dropping down to Caleb’s shoulders and squeezing gently.

“It’s done?” asked Caleb, voice low and rumbling.

“Mmm, canım, it’s done.”

“You seem practised at that.”

“It has been a while, but it seems there are some skills you do not forget, no matter how long it has been since you used them,” said Essek, hands now rubbing small circles into Caleb’s shoulders. “I used to braid for Verin. Back… well. It’s been many years since I’ve done that.”

A hand raised and covered his, squeezing his fingers gently.

“You are welcome to use my hair at any time, Schatz.”

He chuckled, flipping his palm over and linking his fingers with Caleb’s.

“Thank you. It’s nice to know I still remember them.”

“Explain them to me?”

Lifting his free hand, Essek tapped lightly against the first braid, before drawing his finger down and back against it.

“This one, this style is called ışık, it’s one unique to Den Kryn, though I have cut it through with a general Dynasty style. Very traditional, used by high-ranking officials, generals, members of the nobility.” He felt Caleb nod under his hands, following the explanation. “It honours the Bright Queen, and you’ll find most of the Dens use this one day to day. These ones here though”—he drew Caleb’s attention to the lower two, tapping gently and drawing his finger across them—“these ones are Thelyss braids, unique to our Den. Each one has them. Mostly special occasions, formal dinners, religious ceremonies, weddings, that’s when you see these ones.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, his thumb running circles into the back of Essek’s hand.

Essek tapped his hand on the delicate knot that draws the braids together, considering. He had been indulgent, when he wove this one in.

“This one, mmh. It’s, well. It is considered a kur yapmak, a gesture of courtship and intention. With a few adjustments, it is what I would have expected to be wearing—if I had the hair to do it with—when a marriage union would have been finalised.”

There was heat in his cheeks as he finished the explanation, and a sudden lurching of his heart. How would Caleb read this, the liberties he had taken?

Maybe Caleb felt something, his fingers still wrapped around Essek’s and brushing against his wrist, but he moved from between his legs. Water splashed over the sides, and Essek would have been annoyed if he hadn’t already sacrificed these pants to being drenched, but as it was he just leaned back and waited for Caleb to settle.

They were eye to eye now, Caleb kneeling with water running down his chest between Essek’s legs, hand still grasped in his hand. There was a look of quiet joy on his face, a light that danced between his eyes as he reached a hand out to cup Essek’s cheek. He can’t help but lean into it, Essek’s eyes dropping closed for a moment.

“That is an elaborate way to ask, Liebling.”

Essek chuckled, fondness colouring his tone as he smiled.

“You haven’t yet said no,” he pointed out, turning his head to kiss Caleb’s palm briefly. “But it is not a proposal. I… if that is something you are interested in, then we can talk about it.”

Caleb leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of Essek’s nose, his cheek, before leaning in and capturing his mouth. Essek raised a hand, covering Caleb’s where it still rested against his cheek. It was a slow kiss, gentle and patient, and Essek savoured it.

They drew back, foreheads pressed together, and Essek felt Caleb smile.

“We can talk about it.”

#shadowgast #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role fandom #the mighty nein #my writing #my fic #non-sexual intimacy prompts #hwinia #katie replies #ask katie #ficlet #cr: fanfic

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wqlfstqr · 3 years

Text

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ ៹ ·˚ ༘ ◡̈ she wasn't you ཿ remus lupin

▰▰▰ pairing(s): young!remus lupin x fem!reader, young!james potter x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: remus realizes that he was looking for y/n in other people

warning: a little jealousy ig, probably some grammar mistakes since english is not my first language :)

a/n: this is my first post and is honestly such a mess, I didn't even know what I was writing half of the time but I really liked the result so here ya go!!

words count: 1868

slightly inspired by this scene from secret admirer

ㅤㅤㅤy/n had always loved hogsmeade, especially in snowy times, there was something about the town that used to made her very happy and excited about the days they were allowed to visit the place. However, that saturday morning she wasn't as thrilled about the trip as always, and she was even willing to stay at bed all day while her friends went to have fun.

“cmon, you never miss an oportunity to go to hogsmeade” pleaded james while the girl covered herself with blankets up to the neck

“y'know what they say, there's always a first time for everything” she shrugged.

“is this about remus?” potter ventured to ask, making the girl freeze in her spot.

“what about remus?” she asked back, trying to act nonchalantly, the boy raised his eyebrowns at her in pure disbelief.

“I know that you know that he has a date, y/n/n” he said cautiously, waiting to see the reaction of his best friend, who hid further under the sheets as a response

"really? didn't know, guess people find out new things every day huh” she kept acting like she didn't know, like that wasn't the reason she was in bed at two in the afternoon, but she was a pretty bad liar and the way james knew her, probably better than anyone, didn't help at all

“listen to me y/n, I know that you fancy him and I know it's been like this for a while but this is probably for the better” james sighned, sitting on the edge of his bed, where she was laying with the covers covering most of her face “I love moony, and i'm very happy for him, but you deserve more than being sad in bed for someone that doesn't see how amazing you are”

y/n poked her head out of the covers, a very little smile crossing her face as she extended her arms towards james who quickly understood and took her in his own arms, hugging her and stroking her tousled hair with a smile. she felt safe, she always felt safe being with james, as if her worries were silly and there was nothing in the world that could hurt her.

“I still don't want to go to hogsmeade” she mumbled, her face hiding in the crook of his neck “I appreciate what you're doing for me, really, but I just want to sleep and forget about all this, just for today”

“then I'll stay with you” james replied, laying down and dragging y/n with him, determined not to let her go.

“but you should go, you deserve some fun and peter and sirius are waiting for you, you guys probably had a lot of plans for today.” she babbled, shoking her head.

“I'm pretty sure they can survive a few hours without me” james insisted and y/n knew he wasn't going to give up.

“can they? 'cause I bet sirius would die after fifteen minutes without you” she said jokingly, closing her eyes with a smile peeking out of her face as she heard james laughing

“he can figure how to survive just for today, I'm not gonna leave you alone drowning in your own misery” he joked, but the determination was clear in his voice.

y/n didn't bother to reply, knowing he would keep insisting, James Potter was for sure stubborn as hell and once he had proposed something, it was impossible to get the idea out of his head. So she sighned and, without talking more, she made herself comfortable in his arms, her eyes still closed as the world began to disappear around her and a feeling of peace started settling in her chest as the minutes passed slowly.

“shut up, you're gonna wake them up" sirius' voice flooded y/n's ears, followed by the sound of a door being opened

"no need, you already did" replied peter watching at the bed where his two friends were laying.

indeed, y/n began to slowly open her eyes while letting out a small yawn but remus was too frozen in his place to even react to that, a very strange feeling hitting his stomach as his head replayed over and over the scene his own eyes had witnessed seconds before; y/n laying on top of James, her face hidden in his chest while the boy hugged her around the waist, both of them fast asleep over the messy sheets.

“hey guys, how was hogsmeade?” she said, releasing herself from james's grasp to sit next to him, a tired smile crossing her face as she watched the other three marauders.

“it was pretty boring withou-” peter's sentence was left unfinished and the words lost in the air as remus spoke above him.

“we spend the whole afternoon looking for you two” he looked angry and y/n's tiredness disappeared quickly, being remplaced with surprise at the actitude of the boy.

“the hell's happening?” muttered james, his voice sounding sleepy as he narrowed his eyes at his friends

“we can ask you the same question" replied remus bitterly “did you even think how bloody worried we were?”

“moony what the fuck, It wasn't a big deal, we just fell asleep.” james was still half asleep, maybe too much to deal with the situation.

“you know what, prongs? I just remembered we bought a bunch of stuff from zonko's” sirius was fast to intervene, walking towards potter's bed “why don't we go watch it? I thought we could think of some way to use them”

before james could even respond, sirius lifted him completely out of bed and dragged him to the door, james tripping over his own feet while trying to walk on his own as peter didn't waste time following them. y/n got up too, with the intention of following them but sirius quickly closed the door before she could even get to it.

she understood the message very clear, exhaling before she turned to look at the only boy left; remus put his hands to his own face to hide behind them, letting out an exasperated sigh. the girl approached him quietly without saying anything, the two of them falling in a silence for some very long minutes.

“what happened to you?” she hesitated before asking, eyeing him with discretion.

“do you like him?” the answer was obviusly not expected by y/n, who seemed to have been taken by surprise “I mean james, do you like him?”

“what are you talking about?” she laugned with disbelief, but when she saw how serious remus was, she sighed “of course not”

“it's you who I like, prat” she wanted to tell him, but she bit her tongue just in time not to let go of anything that she would regret later, falling silent as she watched remus nooding slowly with his head.

“why do you care anyway” she questioned instead, crossing her arms under her chest.

“you two are my best friends, of course I care” y/n felt the disappointment roll her stomach at the answer. That was not the answer she was expecting.

“how was your date?” she quickly changed the subject, even though a part of her didn't want to know the answer.

“oh great, yeah, she's great” He rambled on, glancing at y / n sideways before speaking again “but...”

“but...” she encouraged, biting her lower lip while looking at the floor.

“but...” remus hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a million thoughts ran through his head “she was great but she wasn't you”

she quickly raised her head, allowing remus a view of her tear-filled eyes but she didn't care about that, her biggest concern was the way her heart was starting to beat fast, almost as if it was treatening to jump off her chest in any moment.

“what do you mean?” she gulped, feeling a lump in her throat that didn't allow her to fully form the words.

“she was talking about all those things and she was really interesting you know? or so I thought, because I wasn't really paying attention” he admitted, shutting his eyes for a minute “I wasn't paying attention 'cause the only thing I could think about was that she wasn't you”

y/n had always liked remus, and she really didn't think anyone could blame her for it, was there really something not to like? Remus was pretty, kind and incredibly charming, he was a great friend, extremely smart and responsible when it was necessary but at the same time he could be so much fun when he was around the people he felt comfortable with. if anyone thought about the perfect human prototype, then the closest thing to that would have to be remus lupin.

so being there in that exact moment, standing in front of him after hearing what he had to say, she felt all the words get stuck in her throat as she locked eyes with him.

“it just wasn't what I thought it was supposed to be” he continued, feeling nervous as the time passed and there was no response from her “I expected her to be like... you.”

she had dreamed of situations similar to that for so long, she had waited for something like that for years and now that she had remus telling her all that, looking completely serious, she didn't know how to respond and that made her feel slightly frustrated, because she could see the desperation growing in lupin's eyes as time passed.

“I just want you to know that I don't expect you to feel the same, but I just can't keep it all to myself anymore” he kept babbling and was only interrumpted when y/n finally reacted.

and she did the only thing that crossed her mind, approaching him and pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring their lips together in a kiss that caught remus off guard and he only reacted seconds later, realizing that everything was real and not just a product of his imagination; his shoulders relaxing as he raised one of his hands to her chin, the other hand resting on her waist. Their lips danced together for a few seconds, fitting perfectly, almost as if they were made for each other and everything around them disappeared, the world stopping its course during that moment.

“I don't like james” she repeated, as she had done minutes before, her breathing was agitated as she rested her forehead on his “I don't like him because I like you, you idiot”

remus smile grew while he leaned to give her a little peek on the lips, only to be interrumpted by a sniff coming from the entry of the room, the two of them quickly pulling apart to put their glances towards the place, only to find three people standing right there, each one with the same smile on their faces.

“well aren't you two adorable?” teased sirius, with a grin on his face.

“you guys seriously don't know boundaries, do you?" y/n asked, only realizing her mistake once she saw sirius smiling even more.

“we siriusly don't”

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin one shot

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

bucky barnes x reader. masterlist.

part 1 — part 2 (soon)

a / n. this is a series of 15 mini-drabbles to celebrate the 500 followers' milestone, based on one word for each story. this first part contains 8, and the next one contains 7. it was supposed to be posted one story per day, but by that way, it'd take me to last an eternity to post other works / requests.

words. 1.533.

warning, tags. none, just a bunch of fluffy and cute situations with bucky.

join my tag list.

necklace;

It was the first time since you started to date that Bucky had to leave for a mission. Neither of the two of you knew when he'd be back, and that got you worried than ever. You were conscious of what he did for a living when you met him, but you couldn't help but feel scared. Next to the front door of your apartment, Bucky left his backpack on the floor, leaning to cup your cheeks on his palms and kiss your lips tortuously slow.

“I'll be okay, (Y/N)”. He murmured keeping his eyes closed.

“You better”.

Your hidden threat made him giggle. The soldier felt goosebumps bristling his skin as your fingertips toured his neck blindly, just to put in place the chain of his necklace. But soon, Bucky stopped your moves to take it off from him and place his dog tags on you.

“I'll come back for them”. He promised, fixing his pale blue orbs on yours, holding your hands to bring them to his lips and place fond kisses on every knuckle of both. “I love you, don' forget it, okay?”

“I won't... How could I, Buck?”

eclipsed;

Bucky was sweating, still not believing he was about to get married to the love of his life. He was on the altar, waiting for you and surrounded by all of your friends in common. Steve had had to help him with a panic attack he had suffered while dressing up, thinking that maybe you could change your opinion at the last moment. He couldn't blame you. But all those doubts vanished at the second you crossed the huge, heavy doors of the church. Your beauty eclipsed him, wearing a white lace wedding dress and seeming like you floated over the floor. Just like an angel.

His heart jumped. His oceanic eyes got covered in tears. A giggle escaped his lips, stretching a hand towards you, still praying it's not a dream. And you noticed the tension and the nervousness running his veins, leaning forward to kiss his cheek with all the love you felt for your future husband.

“Can't wait to say yes”. You whispered into his ear, causing Bucky to lace his arms around you and embrace you tight and tenderly. “I love you, James, from now and forever”.

sunset;

After his most recent nightmare and walking all grumpy from one side of another around your house, you decided to cheer him up only like you can do. With reluctance, you managed to get him out of your apartment and drag him to your car. Bucky was like a child, cross-armed, lips puckered and frowning annoyed. He tried to hide the fact that he had another nightmare to not worry you, but you weren't stupid.

Thinking that glimpsing the beach throughout the large front window would make him feel happier, your boyfriend just reclined himself on the seat, causing you to roll your eyes. That mood changed as soon as Bucky was sitting on the sand, between your legs, tho. His back was resting against your chest and his neck was wrapped by one of your arms, watching fascinated the sunset on the horizon. He wouldn't recognize it, but he felt much better hearing the waves crashing into the shore, while you stroked his scalp tenderly using the tip of your nails.

“You're welcome, grumpy mummy”.

clingy;

You didn't want to drink, but Sam and Sarah wanted to celebrate that the family business was picking up. On another occasion, you wouldn't mind, but Bucky was there. So, when everything started to spin around, you lead your clumsy steps to the edge of the harbor, having a sit there and let the soft breeze help you.

“Stop”. You heard from behind.

“Uh?”

“You're stealing my antisocial personality”. Bucky chuckled, taking a seat by your side. “What's up? Why are you here all alone?”

“Truth or lie?” You asked tilting your head towards him, raising both eyebrows.

“Truth”. He scoffed as if it wasn't obvious.

“I'm too clingy when I'm drunk”.

“Can't see the problem there”.

You chuckled, shaking your head inevitably, causing him to pucker his lips with a funny grimace.

“What?”

“Tru—”.

“Truth”.

“I've been all night wanting to rub your beard”.

Bucky exploded in loud laughter, not believing your words until you put your hands on his jawline. “God... It's so soft”.

His laughs increased, causing you to burn in shame. “No more drinks for you, ma'am...”

But the fact was that he turned to you, so it could be easy to caress his face.

safe;

Bucky was deadly tired on the sofa, warmly cuddled between your arms. A while ago, he stopped to pay attention to the movie, turning his back to the TV to hide his exhausted expression on your chest. You placed the cozy blanket over your bodies, making sure it covered both of you, being aware that tonight you'd sleep there. You felt sorry just at the thought of waking him up, seeing him peacefully breathing and his face more relaxed than the last few days.

Shutting off the TV and stretching an arm above your head, you turned off the small lamp on the auxiliary table close to the sofa, before getting comfier by Bucky's side. Your boyfriend purred delighted, still sleepy, as your fingers got tangled on his hair and started to scratch his scalp slowly, urging you somehow to place a leg over his waist, so he could settle between both a little more closely.

“Feel better?”

“I feel safe”. He replied in a low breath, to exhale the sweet scent concentrated on your neck.

“You're safe, James. You're at home”. Your calmed tone made him sigh, snuggling you strongly.

stay;

You snapped awake because of some knocks on the front door. Tossing the sheets to a side of the bed, you grabbed the gun under your pillow. It was stupidity. If somebody wanted to kill you, that would be the last thing they'd do: knock the door. You walked slowly, step by step, through the main hallway aiming to the door, more than ready to shoot your assailant.

“It's... Bucky”. You heard from the other side.

Sighing in relief and closing your eyes for a split second, you left the weapon on the dinner table in the living room. Not doubting on opening the door, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when you noticed the reddened mark around his left eye and cheek.

“Can I, uh... stay tonight with you?” Bucky inquired, licking his upper lip ashamed, bowing his eyes down to his boots covered in dust.

“C'mon, Sergeant”. You invited him to walk in, using such a sweet tone, while holding his cold hand.

He looked like shit but felt much better when his arms got wrapped around your waist and middle-back, hiding his face into your neck. Kicking the door shut, you embraced him tighter to your body.

notebook;

You were lying on the opposite side to Bucky on the sofa, but keeping your legs tangled. It was a rainy evening with nothing to do and you decided to start to read the book you bought last week. Your boyfriend was silently doing something in a notebook. Maybe writing memories, maybe doodling, you didn't know. But the third time you caught him staring at you, you had to ask.

“What?”

“Uh... nothing”. He whispered focused on the paper in front of his eyes.

“Whaaat?” You kicked his right leg with your bare foot causing him to chuckle.

“Nothing!” Bucky replied using the same playfully tone of voice.

Putting the book on the coffee table, you sat up to lie on top of him, cuddling between his legs and resting your head on his chest. Glancing to the sketch of yourself he was drawing, you raised your heart-eyes to his. It was such a piece of art. The drawing and Bucky. Both.

“I learned in Romania. It kept me sane sometimes”. He confessed, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. “I want to remember you forever”.

marshmallow;

“Truth or dare?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, leaning on the table just like you did, challenging him. He was trying to read your mind to figure out which were your intentions.

“Dare”. He answered firmly.

“Put twenty marshmallows in your mouth”.

The soldier stared at you in silence, watching him lick his inner cheek and push it with the tip of his tongue. He nodded his head then, grabbing the plastic bag without losing eye contact, to start to place —one by one— the sweets into his mouth. In less than thirty seconds, he looked like a squirrel with his cheek swollen. Bucky squinted at you again, triumphant.

“Hold on, I need to capture this moment”. You laughed, catching your phone to take a picture.

When the flash went off, he spitted a marshmallow like a shotgun. And you couldn't help but laugh.

“C'mon, Bu—”.

You didn't finish the sentence, being hit by another marshmallow slightly wet because of his saliva. Your grimace turned into a funny disgust, grabbing it back to throw it to his face.

“You're like a five years old in a body fos— STOP!” You ended up giggling as he spitted you the third one.

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— first impressions

pairing : zeke jaeger / fem reader / reiner braun

word count : 7.5k

tags : sorta fluff (i can’t help myself i love reiner), eventual smut, threesome (f/m/m), situational humiliation, one night stand, spitroasting, drunk + unsafe sex

warnings : nsfw, mild sexual coercion

summary : a chance meeting between you and reiner leaves you enjoying an evening with the warriors upon their much anticipated return from the war. but doing your new friends a favor leads to a night you'll never forget.

— originally posted 12 / 22 / 20 on ao3 —

"reiner! is that really you?!"

you stood quickly from your place at the booth, unable to stop yourself from scrambling up to the small group of soldiers, who were all looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and amusment.

"you didn't tell us you had a girlfriend back home, braun." the dark-haired woman to his right teased, earning a crossed frown from your friend.

"not my girlfriend." he muttered, ignoring their chuckles as he turned his attention back to you, "i haven't changed that much in a few months, have i?"

you sighed, a relieved grin breaking out across your face as he opened his arms to you, gratefully accepting his invitation and squeezing him tight, face pressing into his shoulder. the scent of gunpowder that usually clung to him in his uniform was absent on his civilian clothes, replaced instead with the pleasant smell of fresh linen. "a few months? felt more like a whole year to me."

you stayed cognizant of the people behind him, now exchanging curious glances at the sight of their comrade's affection, the woman who'd initially teased him whispering something to the stern looking man by her side that made his expression crack into a small grin. he pulled away from you after a moment, a soft smile warming his usually sullen features, which dampened at a hand being placed on his shoulder.

"would you care to introduce us, reiner?" a low voice asked, the speaker stepping to reiner's side to get a good look at you.

you instantly recognized the man, face flushing with embarrassment as you scrambled to find your words. "c-captain jaeger! i apologize for interrupting your evening, p-please forgive-"

"nonsense." he said, holding out his hand for you to shake, "and no need for the formalities, feel free to call me zeke."

you clasped your hands gratefully around his, shaking vibrantly much to his amusement. you exchanged names with the remaining three, the tired looking but jovial woman, pieck, insisting that you join them on their night out. seeing as you had already planned to be at the old bar for the rest of the night by yourself, you had no qualms with inviting them all to fill the remaining seats of the booth you'd been occupying before they entered.

"pock here isn't much of a talker," she said after everyone got themselves situated, poking the cheek of the man she'd been whispering to earlier, "he's a little shy, but don't hold it against him."

"i thought i told you not to call me that.." he grumbled in reply, smacking away her hand and earning a small round of laughter from everyone at the table. the freshest face among them, colt, flagged down the barmaiden that was milling about the tavern floor, ordering a beer for everyone at the table with a kind smile.

"this'll be the only one for me tonight." you told him across the table after the woman had sauntered away, "i kinda didn't budget to be drinking more than one beer tonight anyways.."

"don't worry about it." you turned at reiner's voice beside you, gaze flitting down to see him thumbing through the bills in his wallet, "i'll pay for you tonight. my treat."

"nice to see that you know how to treat a lady." zeke quipped with a grin from his place on your left, earning another unreadable frown from reiner, but you could see the flush creeping up on his cheeks as a result of the implication.

before he could dismiss his friend, the barmaiden had returned, toting six mugs filled to the brim with beer on her serving platter. everyone murmured their thanks as she passed them around the table, her eyes lingered on colt before she slipped away to attend to another awaiting party.

"look at you, colt! haven't even been here for thirty minutes and you've already got the ladies swooning." pieck drawled, taking a long sip from her mug with a smile on her lips as she watched the young man stammer out an excuse.

you couldn't help but laugh along at the display, taking a generous drink of your own as you watched the conversation pick up around you. pieck seemed to be more than comfortable with everyone at the table, fueling the majority of the discussion with her playful words. porco, as she'd said, didn't seem to be much of a talker, but nodded along to what the others said, contributing a brief input when he saw fit and staying silent for the rest of the time. colt wasn't naive, but he was easy to tease, the perfect target for little jabs here and there from around the table that drew irritated, flustered protests from him and made everyone laugh.

the dynamic that had intrigued you the most was that between zeke and reiner. they didn't speak directly to the other often, mostly relaying remarks through their responses to the others, but when they did, there seemed to be an odd sort of tension between them. not exactly rivals, but not exactly friends either. they were on the same team, but there was a clear disconnect between them despite that. you felt every slight shift that reiner made when zeke addressed him, debating on whether you should request to move from your place between them for your sake or stay as a buffer for reiner's.

everyone was on their third glass—the only exception being reiner, who was nearly through his fourth—definitely loosened up though not quite drunk yet, but before you could put much thought into how you'd go about doing that, porco spoke to you for the first time. "so, how do you even know reiner?"

"oh! i'd also like to know too!" pieck piped up between sips, downing the rest of her mug in one go and resting her chin in her hands. everyone's attention had turned to you in an instant, intently waiting for your response, making your posture stiffen as you twisted your hands in your lap.

"well, it was a few years ago, when the war with the mid-east had just started ramping up." you began, tensing up the slightest bit when you felt your hand brush reiner's under the table, "i was working at the produce shop down on kaiser lane, and one day reiner came by with his mother on one of her grocery visits, she had always spoken to me about him when i was counting up her total. i asked her if this was son she was always talking about, and she said yes and introduced us. reiner looked tired," pieck giggled at that. "so i tried to hurry it up a little for his sake, and then she paid and they both went on their way. later that day i came here, and i saw him sitting alone at the counter, so i decided to sit down next to him and see if he could put up with my insufferable small talk for a little while. we ended up talking all night, and we've been great friends since then."

"well, isn't that the sweetest thing," pieck smiled warmly at you from across the table, balancing her head on one hand so could pensively drum her fingers across the wood, "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you two made a lovely couple!"

"pieck, would you stop bothering reiner." porco chided, waving a hand at your friend, "just look at him, he looks like he's one more girlfriend comment away from popping a blood vessel."

reiner grumbled out a low 'fuck you', gulping down the rest of his beer and flagging down the barmaiden as the rest of the warriors shared a hearty laugh at his expense. you yourself were similarly blushing at their constant assertions of something more between the two of you. it's not as if you hadn't mulled the idea over in your head many times before on all the previous outings you'd been on together, and the few times the two of you had gotten drunk enough to fool around a bit before one of you came to your senses and excused yourself for the night.

there were some days where you were glad you kept a modest distance between yourselves, and there were others where you wanted to do nothing more than throw all caution to the window and just enjoy one irresponsible night of doing whatever came to mind, no doubts or worries or responsibilities to get in the way, politics and the war be damned. you started to shake away those unnecessary thoughts, but zeke did a much better job of distracting you when his arm fell around your shoulders, giving you a friendly squeeze as he spoke.

"i see that even in good company, my colleagues' manners still aren't up to par," he said, directing his words at you but talking loud enough for anyone to hear, "allow me to apologize on their behalf."

"oh hush, zeke, you're the worst out of all of us!" pieck argued through her laughter, playfully kicking his shin under the table, "you're only playing nice because she's here."

her words didn't draw his attention away from your face, gleaming grey eyes intently drinking in the emotions passing over your flushed features. you laughed nervously, turning away to face the rest of the table, sneaking a glance at reiner as the barmaiden swept by to clean up the empty glasses and replace them with filled mugs. he had an irritated frown drawn across his lips, worry lines creasing his face as he gulped down half of his mug in seconds.

"look's like you're finally not the one overdoing it, huh colt?" you heard pieck whisper into the young man's ear, snickering at him when he turned away from her and huffed.

just glancing around at them all made you forget that everyone of them were living on borrowed time, that in less than a month they would most likely be shipped out on their next assignment to defend marley against any one of the neighboring nations that were just waiting to pounce at the slightest slip up. aside from reiner, they all seemed to be forgetting that fact as well in favor of just enjoying this night while it was still young.

another banter-filled hour passed, your table not noticing how the bar had been steadily emptying as closing time drew near. zeke had kept his grasp around you for the entire time, much to reiner's dismay, which was evident on his face each time you tried to coax him back into the conversation, always faltering each time zeke peered over you to repeat your question to him with a thinly veiled haughtiness. reiner had gone through more beer than anyone at the table, his flushed face and low-lidded gaze along with his slurring words letting you know just how drunk he'd really become. but aside from his borderline unpleasant exchanges with your friend, zeke was incredibly charismatic, almost overbearingly so, your own intoxication making it easy for you give in to his infectious energy and laugh along with him and everyone else at the table.

sure, you were worried about reiner, but he knew that you would always be friends at the end of the day, and you had to make a good impression on these newly introduced people who were so kind as to invite you in on one of their rare leisurely getaways from the military barracks. so you let yourself lean into zeke's side, relishing in the warmth that you'd been craving for so long—a warmth that the alcohol only made you want more and more—the break in your routine that you'd been searching for in an evening alone turning into a night that you were sure you wouldn't forget for a long time. they didn't even seem to care that you weren't an honorary marleyan, or even that you were a lowly blue-collar worker that made a measly sum at her meaningless job on a forgettable street corner.

but alas, the blissfully ignorant fun of the table's atmosphere was dampened by the arrival of the barmaiden with your table's tab, setting it down in front of colt with a coy smile as she gathered up the rest of your empty glasses and disappeared into the back of the tavern.

"aw colt, you never made your move!" pieck chided, giggling as she dug into the pocket of her skirt to reach for her wallet just as everyone else around the table was doing.

"reiner.. are you okay?" you gently nudged his arm, looking over with concern at the sight of him. his elbow was propped on the table, forehead resting in the heel of his palm as he stared down at his lap, mouth drawn into a slight frown.

"shit, he's loaded." porco commented snarkily.

"we can't let magath see him like this!" colt said nervously, looking around at his colleagues, waiting for one of them to come up with a plan to deal with this new issue.

you glanced from colt to reiner, then up at zeke, turning back to everyone as you made an offer. "well.. i have a guest room at my house, he could stay there for the night if it makes things any easier for you all."

"oh, you're an angel!" pieck sighed, reaching across the table and clasping your hands in hers, "and if the commander asks, i could say that he decided to stay with his family!!"

"sharp as always, pieck." zeke chimed from beside you, "though, i don't think it'd be fair to make her watch him all by herself, so i think it'd be best if i help her out with him for the evening, just to be sure he doesn't cause her any trouble."

he met eyes with pieck, and for a moment you thought you saw the briefest flash of realization cross her features, the slightest smirk perking up at her lips before her face relaxed back into its natural smile and she nodded at him. "great idea." she said, tugging at porco and colt's sleeves, "i'll deal with these two, and i'll tell the commander that you had a change of heart as well. reiner, hand me your wallet if you can't count the bills."

"i've got it." he grunted, fumbling with his wallet for a few moments before slamming a fistful of bills down in front of her.

"thank you very much!" she sang happily, getting all the money in order and putting her own small tip for the barmaiden before she slapped colt's arm a few times, prompting him to start scooting out of the booth.

zeke finally retracted his arm to begin leaving the booth, standing out on the floor and offering his hand out to you. you flushed, taking it and allowing him to help you to your feet. everyone got themselves situated, stepping out of the bar and saying their goodbyes, pieck, colt, and porco turning to make their way back to the barracks, zeke slinging reiner's arm over his shoulder and following you along as you gave directions on how to get to your home.

there wasn't many words exchanged between the three of you on your short walk, only having some small talk with zeke between the bouts of comfortable silence hanging around you in the warm night air. you arrived home within minutes, wrestling the key into the old lock and holding open the door for zeke to help reiner in.

"i can walk myself, jaeger." he muttered while kicking his shoes off, earning a low chuckle from the older man.

"then why aren't you doing it right now?"

he didn't get a response as you directed them to your bedroom, hoping to settle him down as soon as you could in the hopes of him being able to get enough rest to sleep off the worst parts of his hangover. while zeke assisted him, you scampered over to the guest bedroom to get it ready for your other, less intoxicated guest. but as you opened the door to the bedroom, you were mortified at the sight of your mess upon looking into the room. in the moment of wanting to do something nice for your friends, you'd completely forget about how you'd basically turned your spare room into more of a storage closet.

looking around to try and think about where to get started, hopefully make it look like you didn't completely neglect this room for the past few months before zeke finished putting his friend to bed, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stiffening in surprise as you slowly turned to look at him.

"i-i'm really sorry, i totally wasn't expecting guests tonight, and i promise i've been meaning to move everything to the basement-"

"don't worry about it, really." he stopped you before you could continue to profusely apologize, offering you another one of those warm smiles that made your knees feel weak, "let me help you, it's the least i could do after you opened your home to a couple of irresponsible soldiers." to your surprise, he brushed past you, picking up one of the many boxes that had accumulated on the bed and floor over the months. "you said you had a basement, right? would you mind showing me where it is exactly?"

unable to find your words, you pointed halfheartedly to the door at the end of the hall, watching him carry one of the few boxes that had left you panting by the time you'd transported them across the house with ease, not even having to set it down to open the door and begin descending the steps. his quick return up the steps finally spurred you into action, hauling another box into your arms and repeating his path of depositing it down in your basement and returning to your room to grab another, making sure to take it slow on your way down the steps from how heavy the alcohol made your limbs feel.

within a few minutes, you both had everything squared away. you let yourself take a seat on the now empty bed, breathing out a sigh of relief and wiping the sweat that had begun to bead around your forehead with the back of your hand, watching as he settled down next to you. "sheesh, you made all that heavy lifting look so easy! and thank you again, for doing such a generous favor for me."

"there's no need to thank me." he replied earnestly, a hand settling on your thigh, making you suppress a small flinch, "you have a lovely home, do you really live all on your own?"

you tried to laugh off the warmth of his hand on your skin through your long skirt. "y-yeah, it's just been me for a while. sometimes friends come over for the night, but for the most part, it's just me."

zeke hummed pensively, grey eyes shining with something dangerous as he gazed down at you. "makes sense that someone such as yourself hasn't found anybody qualified enough to settle down with," he grinned at your flustered expression, openly appreciating the way your eyes widened and you breathed out a soft, indecisive 'thank you', "though, i was so sure that you and reiner had something between you.."

"n-no! it's not like that." the words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think about them, the desire to answer him overriding any clear thought that might cut through your intoxicated embarrassment, "i'm sure s-soldiers such as him and yourself don't really have time to play around with people l-like me."

you mentally slapped yourself for coming to such a conclusion, let alone allowing it to actually exit your brain and be heard by the most esteemed guest you'd probably ever have the honor of hosting.

"oh?" he peered curiously at you, thumb rubbing a slow stroke over your leg, face seeming much closer than it was a few blinks ago, "and what exactly is that supposed to mean?" you knew just how intentional his word choice was, practically setting up a verbal trap for you to fall into, but how could you not take the bait when it was marley's strongest warrior dangling it before you?

"i-i-i'm sorry, s-sir— zeke!"

you scrambled to correct yourself, looking any place except his face and wanting to do nothing more than hide away somewhere where neither him nor reiner could find you to sober yourself up before you could humiliate yourself any further. but you felt the desperation that was now gripping your pounding heart start to squeeze like a vice around it when a rough hand found your chin, gently turning your head to face him again.

"again with the apologies.. what am i going to do with you?"

your bottom lip quivered, more frantic sorries threatening to spill out, but stopped by the lack of air that you were able to take in from his proximity. you hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until you felt a tight ache seize your chest, exhaling an alarmed breath as you stared up into the glinting grey irises studying your face, mirroring their actions at the tavern but containing all of the hunger he'd been hiding in front of his comrades. the hand of your thigh slid up your leg just an inch, zeke breathing out a chuckle at the feeling of you tensing under his touch.

"if you must know," his face was so close that you could even see the pale freckles dotting across his sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, the shadowed contour of his face looking even deeper in the dim light of the guest room, parted lips exhaling a warm breath that fanned across your face, the scent of alcohol still evident as he slowly spoke, "a soldier such as myself can make plenty of time to play around with someone like you."

you couldn't barely contain your awe, drawing in another shaky, shallow breath at the feeling of his lips brushing across your own, just daring you to indulge in his offer. you could barely form a cohesive thought before your brain forced a new topic into your conscious, confusion and shock and abrupt desire drowning out all the rationality that you were so desperately grasping for in this moment.

you'd just met this man tonight, it didn't matter that you'd known of his grand legacy even from when you were a young girl or felt like you'd gotten to know him quite a bit in that short amount of time, you'd only shaken his hand and drank with him and sat face-to-face with him for the first time just a few hours ago. not to mention how the person you were truly familiar with, the one who wasn't nearly a decade your senior, the one you had really been yearning for was just down the hall in your bed, only two shut doors and a few thin walls away from this spectacle. but, zeke was right in front of you, and he was offering out an opportunity that was impossible to refuse—an offer that you really, really didn't want to refuse.

so you didn't. you gave in to the sinful temptation of his warmth, his skin, his soft touches with calloused, work-roughened hands, the knowledge that this kiss was only just the beginning of something unforgettable.

in contrast to his hands, his lips were soft, ridiculously soft as they pressed over yours, the fingers at your chin unfurling to cup the length of your jaw. you leaned into his touch, earning a pleased grunt from him when your trembling hand found his hair, slowly carding through it as you focused on maintaining the easy rhythm of his kiss. you stifled a small sound when the hand on your leg smoothed up to your inner thigh, not pressing any further, just gently stroking and giving the occasional squeeze to the pliant flesh through your skirt.

you could feel the light flutter in your chest heavy and knot into something familiar, twisting deep in your stomach as he sucked at your bottom lip, nipping at it before his attention wandered across your cheek, the hand at your jaw tilting your head up to expose more of your neck to his eager mouth. faint kisses gave way to teasing bites and licks, drawing a soft whimper as he sucked with the intent to bruise where your shoulder met your neck. he seemed to appreciate the way your grasp in his hair tightened, the hand on your thigh traveling across your waist to find the knotted string holding up your skirt.

the progression of his actions felt natural, but almost too fast at the same time, your hand giving an apprehensive tug to his hair when you felt the waistline of your skirt go slack with the undoing of its lacing. he groaned lowly at the sensation, spurring you to do it again when his teeth grazed over the forming redness just right. you could feel the haze of arousal fogged your mind already, all rationale dissipating under the influence of the alcohol and the hands that were now roaming your body, searching for a moment for the top button of your shirt before they began to messily undo those as well. each brush of his fingers across your bare skin sent goosebumps across the expanse of your chest, making quick work of your blouse as he pushed it over your shoulders, guiding your arms out of the sleeves before tossing it aside in favor of working on the clasp of your bra, never pulling away from his place at your neck for more than a moment before returning the bruising attention of his mouth back over the flushed skin.

you breathed out a weak whimper at the feeling of his thumb and forefinger taking one of your nipples between them, bra forgotten somewhere on the floor with your shirt, baring the entirety of your naked torso to him. he could feel how you squirmed when another hand smoothed down your stomach, slipping beneath your skirt's waistline and settling just between your legs, only a sheer barrier provided by your thin underwear, the arousal threatening to soak through the fabric leaving it clinging to every fold. he hummed appreciatively at the welcome surprise, drawing more stifled sounds out of you when his fingers slowly stroked over your clothed cunt.

"all this just for me?" he murmured lowly in your ear, thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive nub.

his touch was electrifying, almost overwhelmingly good as you arched into it, the hand at your breast now groping at the supple flesh, palm offering a much-needed friction over your nipple. you finally registered his teasing question, barely managing a disoriented 'mhm' and a small nod, unable to think of anything else besides your heartbeat pounding loud enough that you though he might be able to hear, and the fingers prodded at you and teasing your body as they pleased.

your half-lidded gaze drifted to the door, blinking away the fogginess when you realized it wasn't actually properly shut. you opened your mouth to try and murmur out your observation, but the words in your head spilled out as an incoherent moan, feeling his mouth detach from your bruised neck before he urged you down onto the mattress. but the sight of him standing above you, tugging off his shirt and revealing the impressively toned physique of his stomach and chest, made you forget the ajar door behind him entirely. your hands moved without a second thought, pushing your skirt and underwear down your legs as far as you could, kicking them the rest of the way off as he began to unbuckle his belt.

you couldn't help the way your eyes widened when he shoved down his pants and underwear in one go, unable to choose between focusing your gaze on the smug smirk drawing across his lips or his achingly hard cock, already looking like more than you could handle even at a distance. he plucked his glasses off his face, setting them on the bedside table before he moved over you in bed, your hands tugging him down into a kiss and earning a low chuckle against your lips.

"eager little thing, aren't you?" he only pulled away for a moment to speak, knuckles dragging down the swell of your breast and curving down your waist. your legs spread in anticipation, back arching off the bed when his fingers finally trailed down between your thighs to smooth a finger down your pussy. "and so, so wet."

you squeaked at the intrusion of two thick fingers pumping into you, sliding in easily with a soft, wet sound. the rhythm of your lips faltered, whimpering as his tongue slid between your teeth, tangling with yours, mouth greedily swallowing every desperate sound you made for him. you were grateful for how he was muffling you, just barely remembering that there was another presence in your house besides you and zeke that you had to worry about, heat sparking up your spine at the feeling of his fingers curling just right inside you.

the thought of reiner finding you in here with the captain of his squad, so pathetically obedient and practically dripping from just his fingers, was horrifying and unnervingly thrilling all at once. would he be angry with you? why would he be? what did he even consider you as?

you couldn't dwell on that thought for too long, hips bucking and toes curling when his thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, wordlessly begging for more. he seemed to be just as impatient as you were in the face of your desperation, pulling away from your lips and removing his touch from between your legs, rolling himself onto his back and tugging you on top of him in one swift motion. you flush even deeper as you watched him drink in the sight of your naked figure, large hands finding your hips, pupils blown wide enough to nearly swallow up the silvery grey of his irises as he eased you down so his cock was just at your aching cunt, offering a sliver of mercy by allowing you to seat yourself onto him as fast or slow as you'd like.

just the first few inches had you whimpering, hands settling on his chest to steady yourself, teeth worrying the skin of your bottom lip, trying to contain the borderline humiliating sounds that were making him grin so smugly up at you. you could feel tears pricking your eyes by the time you finally sank all the way down, deep, shaky breaths giving away your lack of composure even more so than the way the thighs on either side of him tremble, or the nails now digging into the toned muscles of his shoulders. he gave you just a moment of respite, letting you get used to the feeling of something so big before his grip on your hips fastened, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he began to guide you up and down on his cock.

the low groan your motion earned from him was enough to make your already pounding heart race even faster, heat echoing through you in a way that made it impossible to silence the heated whines that were spilling out of you. the bed squeaked in protest beneath you, but you could care less as you quickened the pace he'd started you at all on your own, admiring the flush that had darkened over his handsome features and the parted lips breathing out low curses and appraising groans.

his eyes fell shut, head falling back before he forced it back up, gaze wandering across your face, then your body, then flitting elsewhere for the briefest moment before they returned to you, hips now thrusting up with even more vigor to meet your own. you moaned openly, struggling out a meaningless string of pleas, the ache beginning to burn in your legs drowned out when he reached out to rub tight, fast circles around your clit. he was grinning now, licking his lips before he spoke in a knowing slur, "you're gonna cum soon, aren't you?"

"yes, f-fuck yes..!" it took you a moment to find your words, embarrassed by how fast he'd managed to work you up to this point but unable to be dishonest in your current position.

his motions didn't falter in the slightest, only seeming to grow more and more urgent as you quivered and whined, bouncing yourself up and down on his cock like it was the last time you'll ever get the chance to do it. and while that's likely the case, you don't care to think about it, too wrapped up in the way you could feel that pressure that had been welling in your stomach finally reach a breaking point, stammered curses devolving into breathless cries as you came hard around him.

you could feel the movement of his hips slow significantly, still rocking up into you to let you ride out your high but not nearly enough for him to push himself over the edge along with you. but you're grateful for his mercy, knowing that if he'd continued at the pace he was going you probably wouldn't be able to walk the next morning. so you took it as a testament to his goodwill, falling forward onto his chest in a whimpering heap, trying to steady your breathing and calm your heart rate, remaining seated on his still hard cock.

you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, the other resting across your shoulder so he could settle his hand on the back of your head, fingers working their way into your hair and gently carding through it. the attention was comforting, unexpected but definitely comforting as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, still too hazy off of your post-orgasm bliss to have any shame about wanting to be close to his warmth. you didn't think about whether he was expecting you to get him off at some point, or if he was just content letting you rest on top of him like this, but you soon found that he had a much different answer—or rather, a question—that didn't at all take you into consideration.

"so, reiner, are you just going to stand there and watch all night?"

there was confusion for a brief moment, then a horrifying realization that made an ice-cold fear prick under your spine, blood draining from your face as you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, completely frozen at the knowledge that the worst of the night you had imagined had come true. zeke's hand didn't stop its slow petting across your head, arm fastening around your body, seemingly in preparation for you to start squirming or fighting to get away. but you couldn't move an inch, not even enough to turn your head and risk a glance at your friend who was apparently right at the door.

"well?" his voice rumbled low in his chest once more, dripping with arrogance, entirely absent of any shame, just tempting him to step past the unseen boundary that had kept him there for however long he'd been watching, "i know, i know, you haven't your fair share all night. it's just so, sohard to let go once you finally get your hands on her. you should know all about that feeling, right?"

"fuck you."

you felt a warm curl in your stomach at the sound of his voice, breathing short and fast as your heart skipped anxiously, but mentally almost enjoying the fact that he was feeling something for you, even if it was some sort of possessive envy. the sound of his heavy, uneven footsteps making their way towards the bed.

he clearly still sounded drunk—who wouldn't be after so many beers in one sitting—and that was probably why he didn't hesitate at all to start tugging his clothes off, the ruffle of fabric and clinking metal of a belt being unbuckled finally snapping out of your compliant state, shaky arms trying to push yourself in bed. zeke allowed you to sit up, hands dropping to your thighs as your foggy gaze wandered from his face over to reiner at the bedside, heartbeat nearly drowning out the other sounds in the room as it drummed loudly in your ears.

"you don't mind, do you?" zeke called your attention back to him, gently stroking up and down your thigh just as he had been when you'd first accepted his offer.

your mouth had gone dry, leaving you struggling to get enough saliva back for your tongue not to stick to the roof of your mouth, feeling the heat of arousal flickering back to life when his cock twitched inside of you. did you mind? well you definitely minded the humiliation, the anxiety taut within your chest that made each breath an effort, the fact that you had no idea what was going on or would happen next. but did you mind enough to force yourself off of him, to struggle to collect your clothes from the ground and stagger out of the room with shaky legs that you weren't sure were capable of doing even that right now? did you really want this?

but it seemed that the choice had already been made in both of their minds, your answer—or lack thereof— speaking for your choice in the matter as zeke's hands lifted you up off of his lap, enough for him to slip out from under you. the sudden emptiness after being so full made you whimper, falling back down onto your calves in the middle of the bed and staring down at zeke's cock, slick with your arousal and still aching to be tended to.

the sinking weight of reiner clambering onto the bed behind you made you exhale a shaky breath, still in disbelief as his hand settled on your cheek, turning your head to face over his shoulder to press his lips onto yours. his kiss was messy but familiar, his low moan making you shiver alongside the feeling of zeke's stare wandering across the display before him. your exchange didn't last long before he pulled away, gazing at you with an unreadable look in his golden eyes for a moment, hand moving to the back of your head to push you down onto your hands and knees.

you obediently complied, met with the sight of zeke's cock once more, peering up to meet his gaze, features showing a mixture of eager expectancy and relaxed pride, just knowing that you were willing to do whatever he asked of you. and he relished in the changes your expressions went through in the next few seconds, the way your eyes widened when reiner's hands grasped your soft hips, how you swallowed thickly to try and get enough saliva down your tongue to get your mouth ready, and finally your mouth falling open and face twisting when reiner eased himself entirely into you in one solid thrust, finding little resistance from how soaked you were. you whimpered out a shaky curse, fists bunching up the sheets under you as he picked up a steady rhythm from behind you, zeke's fingers tangling into your hair and guiding onto your parted lips onto his awaiting cock.

he groaned out at the wet heat of your mouth engulfing him, tongue laving up over the underside of his length as you did your best to take as much of him in as possible without gagging. you wanted to be ashamed of how much you were enjoying the feeling of being entirely overwhelming, fuller than you'd ever felt in your entire life, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said that you'd made a mistake by giving in to the lustful temptations. you could feel your eyes water as zeke hit the back of your throat, your teary gaze and muffled moans against him only seeming to enthrall him further. reiner's hands felt up your waist, one reaching down your front to pinch and roll a nipple between his fingers, driving more stifled sounds and shaky breaths through your nose out of you.

you felt yourself squeezing around his cock, earning yourself a few low, muttered curses as he began to pound even faster into you, evidently approaching his limit just as fast as you are. the hand in your hair was guiding you up and down on the cock in your mouth, the tip of your nose just brushing zeke's stomach each time you surged forward with the momentum of the thrusts from behind you. it was all far too much in the best way possible, vision going hazy at the edges from the lack of proper air you could get into your lungs, insides aching from overusing alongside the tight knotting deep in your gut that was threatening to send you over the edge.

it was zeke that came first, heat pooling over your tongue and spilling down your throat, nearly too much for you to swallow as you tried not to choke. but he kept himself in your mouth and his hand firmly grasping your hair, if not to feel the hum of your desperate whines across your skin then to admire your pathetic expression, half-lidded eyes barely able to hold themselves open enough to stare back at him as you came hard for the second time that night. you could hear reiner give a generous groan of your name, thrusting as deep as he could go just a few times more, having enough sense to not cum inside you, pulling out and making a sticky mess of your trembling thighs.

only after you'd blinked away the glossiness in your eyes did zeke pull himself out of your mouth with a wet pop, holding your head up to appreciate the way your mouth still hung open to gasp in much needed gulps of air, tears and saliva dripping down your chin, halfhearted whimpers still escaping you as you trembled.

"you have good taste, reiner." zeke said, releasing your hair and letting you rest your cheek down against the mattress under you, grabbing his glasses off the side table and putting them back onto his face.

you watched as he stepped off the bed, picking out his clothes from the messy array of garments strewn about on the floor and tugging them on. he fished a handkerchief out of the the pocket of his pants, tossing it at reiner's side and glancing over your body, offering you a lazy smile when he caught your gaze.

"clean her up," he instructed, reaching out to give one last soft touch down your back, "and don't give her anymore trouble, alright? i expect to see you bright and early tomorrow."

you assumed that reiner nodded, since zeke turned without another word and exited the bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind him. for a moment, there was uneasy silence, only occupied by your breaths and the faint sound of zeke pulling on his boots somewhere in the living room and leaving out the front door. you gave a low hiss at the feeling of the fabric smoothing down the backs of your thighs, skin far too sensitive for your liking and legs aching uncomfortably.

you lifted your head up enough to wipe your chin with the back of your hand, eyes and limbs heavy with the desire to sleep. there were no words exchanged as he helped you move to lay down on your back, his face just as tired as he'd looked at the bar, but there was something else weighing down his expression as you took his face in your hands, staring up at him with a soft look of concern.

and though he still said nothing, he kissed you, so much gentler than he'd ever kissed you, with a tenderness that made you want savor this brief moment for as long as you could. but he eventually pulled away, and the brief worry that he might leave just as his captain had minutes before, but he rested down beside you with a low sigh. he didn't protest when you curled into the warmth of his body, head finding a comfortable place on his chest, not even bothering to try and venture out onto the floor to turn off the lamp before you settled down and let your eyes fall shut.

it was easy to fall asleep after he wrapped his arms around you, firm chest rising and falling with steady breaths, heart slow in your ear. you didn't think about the fact that you'd probably wake up alone in the morning, or that walking properly would be a monumental task on its own without even considering going to work to stay on your feet for the entire day—just appreciated this night while he couldn't slip away from you like all the other times before.

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caelestis-composition · 2 years

Text

⭒ darkness, darkness everywhere; do you feel alone? ⭒

WOO YEAH. WOO 2AM BRYLUC POSTING. MY SPECIALTY.

sorry its finals week starting tomorrow and ive done five concerts in two weeks with two more this week i needed to write something for myself and they occupy my mind 24/7.

diluc gets jealous and forgets how similar the two of them are.

⭒

pairing: diluc/brynn (oc)

characters: diluc ragnvindr, brynn chanté (oc); mentioned kaeya alberich

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 994

⭒

A knock cuts through the silence of Diluc’s study, gentle against the heavy wooden door. His head lifts. It’s only midafternoon, judging by the sunlight pouring through the window—he shouldn’t be interrupted til later, unless it was something urgent.

Diluc begins to stand just as the door cracks open, only to sink back into his chair with a sigh of relief when it’s Brynn that peeks her head in. She lights up when she spots him behind his desk.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to meet up with Kaeya, so I won’t be back until this evening.”

He can’t help the irritation that surges through him at the sound of his brother’s name on her lips. Diluc stiffens, his jaw tightening as an almost-imperceptible scowl finds its way to his face. But Brynn notices—she always notices—her expression softening, ears drooping ever-so-slightly. He feels bad.

It’s a sore subject, her relationship with Kaeya, and one they handle with care. Diluc knows he can’t stop Brynn from remaining friends with his estranged brother—he doesn’t want to stop her, because their friendship makes her happy, and that makes Diluc happy. She’s told him everything the Cavalry Captain had done for her, and he appreciates that, appreciates how good he is to her. But why, of all people, did it have to be Kaeya?

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Diluc.”

The redhead winces at her call. She’s not mad. No, she never gets mad, as much as Diluc thinks he deserves it.

Brynn worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she steps into the room, just enough to close the door behind her. It shuts with a quiet click. She hesitates, eyes averting briefly.

“What happened between you two?”

Her question isn’t much of a surprise, but Diluc freezes anyway. He’s kept her in the dark this long—and so, it seems, has Kaeya—despite the way she silently begs for answers each time something like this happens. She’s been… so good. He figures she deserves to know.

But…

Diluc swallows. “I don’t want to make you late.” It’s a pathetic excuse, he knows. It comes out even weaker than he had thought it would, and he fights the urge to grimace. Across the room, Brynn laughs—though it feels forced, like she’s not sure if she should be laughing.

“Kaeya won’t mind,” she reassures him, her voice soft. Still, Diluc drops his head into his hands, fingertips curling against his forehead. He feels as though he may cry. Brynn’s always been good at seeing right through him; she knows when he’s lying, as convincing as he tries to be. And as determined as she is to wring the truth out of him, Diluc could tell her to leave, and she would. Archons, she’s so good. Too good for someone like him.

She deserves to know.

But.

“I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Diluc has done many things he cannot be proud of. Taken his father’s life. Attacked his brother with the intent to kill. Abandoned his city and his father’s legacy for four years. He’s destructive, snuffed out more lives than he could possibly hope to count, time and time again with the help of a blessing from the Gods. He’s—

He’s kept his partner in the dark.

The feeling of a hand against his back startles him, and only then does Diluc realize he’s trembling. He hadn’t even heard Brynn cross the room, too lost in his own guilt. His wide, crimson eyes find her face—she’s concerned, brows knit, violet and blue eyes shimmering with worry. Her hand slides up, over his shoulder, until it rests against his cheek. Her skin is warm against his, her thumb stroking back and forth just beneath his eye.

For a moment, he sees his own guilt reflected back at him.

“My hands are hardly clean, either, Diluc.” Her voice is barely a whisper. His breath catches.

Right.

So he tells her everything—more than she originally wanted to know, he’s sure. Diluc pulls Brynn down into his lap so he can bury his face against her shoulder, speaking each sin into the crook of her neck. At some point he’d started crying, heaving out sobs between each admission. The entire time, she says nothing; Brynn only reaches up to pet at his hair, her other arm tightening around his shoulders, pulling him closer. It’s hard to stop once he’s started, hard to close the heavy steel gates guarding his heart once they’ve been opened.

Diluc’s unsure of how long he talks, how long they stay crowded on his chair, even when silence settles over the room. He draws away when his breathing almost returns to normal, when he’s not nearly hyperventilating. Brynn makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat, leaning forward to wipe at his drying tears with her sleeve. Gods. What a sorry state he’s in. Diluc makes a mental note to order a new shirt for her, as an apology for sullying the one she’s currently wearing.

Once she’s satisfied, Brynn pulls back. “Alright?” She asks, cocking her head. Diluc glances away, but nods. His hands twitch where they rest against her hips.

“Will—” He clears his throat, hesitating. “Will you stay? With me.” He doesn’t clarify whether he means for the day or in general. Maybe it doesn’t matter—he suspects her answer will be the same, regardless.

Brynn smiles, so warm despite the tears pricking at her own eyes, as she nuzzles her nose against his. “Of course,” she breathes, before she pulls him forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.” Her words send a burst of color to Diluc’s cheeks, and he struggles to stop himself from hiding his face in her shoulder again. He groans, and this time her laugh is genuine, full as it rings out into his study.

Kaeya can wait until tomorrow.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #oc #genshin oc #oc x canon #brynn’s writing #brynn ocs: brynn chanté #bryluc #hurt/comfort #genshin impact oc #my blorbos <3

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 8

Previous | Next

So this chapter is longer than the previous one and hOpefuLly my writing will get better with each new chapter. One can only hope. And I’m updating this daily cuz I wanna be caught up with all of my chapters so I don’t forget to post one by accident. But the daily updates will unfortunately stop after chapter 13, I guess. For now, enjoy! *totally not debating if I should post chapter 9* also Gabriel, no

Uncle Jagged: Nettie! I got everything ready. Wanna record a bonus track for my new album?

'Oh god'

—————————————————————

Marinette kept rereading the message to make sure she had read it correctly. The message never changed. "Oh Tikki what if my voice sounds horrible? Uncle Jagged will be disappointed and then he won't have me as his designer anymore! He'll probably tell everything to everyone, to Gabriel Agreste, Clara, Chloe's mother and to the whole public!"

"Calm down Marinette!" Tikki flew out the bag and hugged the bluenette's face. "I'm sure you'll do just fine!"

"Thanks Tikki" Marinette said hesitantly. She then approached the hotel doors and towards the elevators. She had felt the gaze of the receptionists and one of them had got up with the intention to talk to her, only to be dragged back down by the fellow receptionist, the one who Marinette talked to yesterday. The bluenette had taken full notice of this but chose to ignore it. She then reached Damian's hotel room and knocked on the door. She heard something metallic drop on the floor followed by a slightly muffled word. Marinette knew exactly what he said but she was confused. She then heard the same voice again though much clearer this time.

"You can come in, the door is unlocked"

~~~

Damian had just finished showering, he was half dressed when he got a message from 'Angel'. He had changed used this nickname as her contact name.

Angel: I got an hour and half till my meeting with Uncle J, you want me to come over?

Damian smiled. Honestly, if he could he would give all his time to her.

Me: Sure, come over whenever you want I don't mind

He was about to put his shirt on when he got an urge to practice with his katana, which he did. He made a mental note about getting dressed soon and he went to the case which his katana was located. He then practiced different stances as well as practicing different motions with the blade. He thought of the bluenette. When he first met her, she struck him as someone defenseless and vulnerable. But he now had the feeling she could take down someone twice her size. Though, that didn't stop him from feeling obligated to protect her. He had become so focused that when someone knocked he tensed. Not that much but enough to loose grip of his katana. The blade sunk into his skin and left quite a deep cut on his upper arm and on the right side of his chest, causing him to drop his katana.

"Scheiße!" He didn't react to the pain, it was the thought of Marinette walking in on this situation. 'Since when do I know German?' "You can come in, the door is unlocked" 'Damn it that's not what I meant!'

Marinette opened the unlocked door to see a shirtless Damian. She probably would've metaphorically died at that point if she didn't take notice to the whole situation. Not only was he shirtless, he was bleeding. 'How did-' she noticed the katana. 'Oh, makes sense now'. The bluenette then sprinted into action. She closed the door behind her, put her bag down quickly but still being mindful of Tikki and turned her attention to the now flustered Damian. She grabbed the arm that wasn't cut and carefully dragged him onto the sofa, she also looked at the katana on her way there while taking some mental notes. 'Looks clean, no rust or scratches that could contain bacteria and seems so have been cleaned thoroughly before use. Great! That makes my job easier'.

"What are you-"

"Hush Shaytan" Marinette interrupted while going to the bathroom, searching for one of those medkits. "Let me take care of you" she said while getting one of the disinfectants in the kit. Marinette then carefully rubbed the liquid into his wounds.

"It stings" he grumbled.

"Awww don't worry little Dami, it will stop stinging soon" Marinette said lightheartedly, as if she was comforting Manon.

"Tt I am not five" he grumbled again. He shifted his body so that Marinette could properly bandage his chest and right arm. After she was done, he flexed his arm. 'She did extremely well' "Thank you, Angel. You really are a life saver". He subconsciously smirked when he saw her face turn a shade of pink.

"Thanks, did I bandage it correctly? I hope I did, oh no what happens if it doesn't heal correctly? What happens if-" she suddenly stopped as Damian had pulled her in close to his chest.

"Honestly you did perfectly Habibti, there's no need to worry" he stroked his fingers through her deep blue hair as a way to calm her down further, but he himself enjoyed it. He knew how Marinette would always think that she's the one at fault and he came up with a way to calm her down. From the looks of it, it was working.

Marinette blushed when Damian had pulled her into his chest, even more so when she felt his fingers brush through her hair. It felt like it had genuine emotion with it, not only just to make her feel better. She took advantage of being close to his chest, his wounds, and used her powers outside the mask to let the wound heal faster. Now knowing that it would heal soon, she enjoyed his embrace, burying herself further into his muscular body. The she remembered something. "So what are we gonna do about your spilt blood?"

"You say that like I deal with this often" he said with a smug looking face. Marinette then had a 'I know you do' face. He jokingly sighed. "I shall clean it and before you object, I feel fine enough to do a simple task such as this." Her giggling brought a smile to his face. "Also have you worked out what Jagged Stone has in mind for you?"

"I'll tell you that after you tell me how you know German" Marinette shifted so that he could get up. "If I recall, you told me that you were fluent in French, Arabic, English and Spanish and that you were learning Japanese. I don't remember German ever coming up" she said in a jokingly serious tone.

"Actually I'm fluent in Japanese now" Damian murmured while getting something from one of his cases, 'Something to clean the blood I suppose' "I was taught an easy way to learn languages, I might have crossed German once before but if so I just forgot about it. Also, how do you know German?"

"Well if you have any interest in learning a new language you'd want to know the swear words, am I right?" She giggled.

"Fair point" he chuckled while allowing his blood to soap into something he brought, a tissue or towel perhaps. "Now, do you know what Jagged Stone's surprise is for you?"

"Yeah, he wants me to record a bonus track for his album"

Damian paused just as he had finished disinfecting his katana. "Wow, that's great Angel!"

"Yes I'm very grateful to Uncle Jagged for organizing all this but what if I sound horrible? I do want to do it for him really, I don't want to turn the offer down but I-"

"Angel, there is no need to worry. If you're not comfortable with it you can tell Jagged, he'll understand. But I'm sure you have a beautiful voice"

"You really think so?" Marinette murmured. Damian nodded. She gave him a thank you smile before saying, "So, what's this quick way of learning a language? I've got 30 minutes"

Damian chuckled. "Well the first thing you would want to know is..."

~~~

'Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only one in class whose been able to stop herself from getting akumatized. She must be very strong, physically and mentally. My point was proven when she became Multimouse, wearing nearly every miraculous that I've ever heard or come across. Ladybug must trust her greatly. I must find a way to akumatize her'

Gabriel Agreste stood in his observatory after recently detransforming. 'She can control her emotions well but when she's angry, it's incredibly strong. This girl could be one of the strongest in Paris, she could be one that senses auras. I must find a way. I will use her to eliminate all of heroes. All I need is time'.

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming (ur the one who wanted to get tagged right? I’m so sorry I forget to write your name down so I’m not sure-), @icerosecrystal

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #did I get the taglist right please correct me if I didn’t

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Ten: Justice

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: so many tears, mention of child neglect and abuse, child custody battle, court. This is essentially the chapter we’ve all been waiting for. I’m so nervous to post this so please let me know what you think and, as always, reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 5000>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Ten - Next

Just like the past few days, you had been rudely awoken by a phone call from Diana Prince. This time, you were back in Maxwell’s king sized bed in D.C., with Alistair sandwiched between you and Max.

“Di?” You asked, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Barbara is here. Now. You have to come over. I’m trying to get her to renounce her wish but she’s fighting back. Come in your Amazonian gear and don’t forget your lasso. Hurry!” she exclaimed before hanging up.

You yawned and put the phone back on the hook. You could stay in bed with Alistair and Maxwell forever but, if Diana needed your help, you had to provide. You followed her instructions and headed out without saying anything to Max. You shouldn’t be too long anyways, you decided. Everything would be okay.

***

When Maxwell eventually woke up and you weren’t by his side, he was confused. In fact, to say he was devastated would have been an understatement. Today was his big court date-- the battle where he’d fight for Alistair’s custody. He had faith you’d be there, just like you promised. Only, there was one small thought haunting him in the very back of his mind.

What if you had become too powerful for this world? What if you already had to go back to Themyscira? No. It would be fine-- Max reassured himself. Maxwell got all suited up and Raquel came to the door.

“Thank you for agreeing to watch Alistair.” Maxwell sighed, adjusting his cufflinks.

“It’s really no problem, Mr. Lord.” Raquel smiled graciously, taking Alistair’s hand.

“Daddy?” Alistair asked, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Yeah buddy?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but I really hope you win today.” Alistair confessed before turning around and leaving with Raquel.

***

“You… Diana!?” You shouted, running up to Barbara and untying her from the bed. Barbara’s eyes locked onto you as you helped release her. “Hey listen… I don’t know what’s going on but I’m your friend. I don’t want to hurt you.” you promised, locking your gaze onto her ocean blue eyes. The colour alone was enough to remind you of the beautiful oceans back on Themyscira.

A tear slipped down Barbara’s cheek and you quickly wiped it away, smoothing out her blonde wavy hair. “I feel so foolish,” she choked out, shaking her head. “Just for once I wanted to be the greatest. And all to prove a point.”

“It’s okay,” you shushed her, cautiously wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into a hug. You wanted to be careful not to smother her. Barbara had done terrible things, no different to Max, but you knew that it wasn’t really them. That they were both possessed by the power of the wish. “Did you speak to Diana?” you asked eventually, truly wondering where your sister was. She’d called you and yet she wasn’t here.

“I came after her… for-- for the dreamstone,” Barbara confessed as her tears soaked your tunic. “She told me it had been destroyed but that’s… that’s impossible.”

You exhaled. “No Barbara, it’s true. Max and I… we--” you tried to explain but Barbara cut you off.

“Babajide said only true love can--”

“I know.” you sighed, looking down at your feet.

“Oh.” Was the only sound Barbara could bear to omit. “You love him?”

You smiled weakly and nodded your head. “I’ve never really been in love before, I don’t think. But I have this feeling in my heart and no words can describe it. I’ve read about it in mythology… like the story of Orpheus and Eurydice and when I’m with Max I just feel… complete. I feel whole.”

“I know the feeling because I feel it too.” Barbara sniffed, pulling off you and crossing her arms over her chest. You could immediately tell that she was feeling vulnerable.

“You do?”

“With Diana.” Barbara confirmed.

“...You-- you’re in love with Diana?” You asked with a small gasp.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.” Barbara sighed into admittance.

“Then you will know that love is the most powerful thing in the world. Barbara… if you renounce your wish then--”

“I know.” Barbara whimpered, rubbing her tearful eyes.

“The wish might have given you all this power, but I promise you there is nothing more powerful than the love you have for Diana,” you reassured Barbara and took her hands. “And the love she has for you.”

“The-- what?” Barbara asked.

“I’m the goddess of family, Barbara, I have a pretty good judgement of knowing when somebody is in love. I see the way she looked at you in the tomb back in Athens. You could have something so beautiful together,” you smiled, giving Barbara’s hands a light squeeze. “Renounce your wish. For Diana.”

Barbara turned and looked out the window, her lips trembling before she looked back at you. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I renounce my wish.” she declared, and you felt a breeze-- and wind, almost, gush through your hair. The grip on her hand became electric and you pulled off her, noticing the way your body began to glow. Barbara’s eyes snapped open and her jaw slackened as she watched your feet leave the ground. You were floating, a glittering golden aura similar to the lasso of truth highlighting your entire body. It was blinding.

The walls of Diana’s apartment began to crumble around you and you eventually fell to the ground. Barbara gasped upon seeing you again. “You-- you’re outfit. You’re glowing…”

You looked down at yourself and your eyes widened in disbelief. Your typical Amazonian tunic had literally changed colours. What was once brown, was now gold, red and blue-- the traditional colours of a child of Zeus. “Like Diana,” Barbara mumbled. “It’s beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you admired the way your new armour looked. The Gods had blessed you with this transformation, and that must have meant you had done something right. You had gotten Barbara to renounce her wish, after all.

No, love was what had gotten Barbara to renounce her wish.

But the walls around you were still crumbling down and the ground beneath you was splitting. “Oh my-- Barbara. I have to go. I’ve already overstayed my welcome.” you said in a panic.

“What? I’m sure Diana doesn’t mind you being here.” Barbara replied, scratching the back of her neck in bewilderment.

“No. The World of Man… I’m too powerful I-- I have to return to Themyscira,” you said in a fluster. You remembered that Diana told you-- with the combination of both of your lassos, you could create a portal that would ensure you returned back home safely. “I have to go now.”

“What about Max?” Barbara asked, standing up and staring at you.

Shit, Max.

The court case.

You were already so late.

“Barbara, I have to go. Keep Diana informed. I-- I have to go see Max and tell him… tell him…”

“Tell him you love him.” Barbara confirmed.

Could you really do that when you were leaving so soon? You opened the window and unravelled your lasso of truth before signalling one final goodbye to Barbara. In a panic you flew out the window and glided through the air, overhead the bustling city beneath you. You had to get to court, at least before the verdict. You couldn’t let him down.

***

“Can both parties please rise?” Judge Edward Wilson requested.

Maxwell felt sick to his stomach. You weren’t here. You were supposed to be here; fixing all of this. You had promised. And you were nowhere in sight. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fingers into a fist. He heard the scraping of the chairs as Julianna and Theodore stood. He followed their actions just a few moments after. It was fine. He could do this without you. Maxwell had come from nothing and he had gotten this far in life completely alone, he could do it again. Maxwell took a deep breath and flattened his suit down before shooting the judge one of his charming, albeit fake, television smiles. The judge grinned, excited to be working on a case with the Max Lord.

“Your honor, I am Theodore Thomas, esteemed family lawyer and I will be representing Miss Julianna Grey on this child custody case.” Ted introduced himself, holding himself high and mighty.

“I’m Julianna Grey, your honor. I’m the biological mother of Alistair Lorenzano and I am here today to request full custody of my son.”

The judge nodded in understanding before turning to Maxwell. “O-oh,” Max shuffled uncomfortably upon realising it was his turn to speak. He looked at the jury of twelve that sat before him. Twelve randomly selected members of the public who were about to learn his true identity. The identity he had kept so well hidden for the last twenty years. “I’m Maxwell Lor-Lorenzano and I’m the biological father of Alistair Lorenzano,” he looked back at Julianna and Theodore who were glaring in his direction. “And I am here today to tell you that I love my son so much.” Maxwell exclaimed.

Judge Edward Wilson adjusted the brimless reading glasses that sat on the curve of his nose. “Mr Lorenzano, you do agree to the case proceedings that will be occurring today, yes?”

“Yes. I do.” Maxwell affirmed, placing both his palms flat on the oak wood table.

“And you do not have an attorney?” Judge Wilson quizzed further.

Maxwell sighed. You should be here. “No I do not. But if possible, may I request a publicly funded attorney?”

“Now now,” Judge Wilson reprimanded, pointing his finger. “I will be the judge of whether or not Mr Lorenzano’s lack of care is sufficient for the transferral of custody.”

The jury murmured amongst themselves, questioning whether or not Max Lord didn’t have a jury because he was broke. They raised their eyebrows, judging the businessman who stood before them. “Unfortunately, with this being a civil case, you are not entitled to a publicly funded attorney.” The Judge hummed, rearranging his stack of papers.

“With all due respect, your honor, we gave Mr Lorenzano ample time to find a representative for this case. This right here is an example of Mr Lorenzano’s lack of care for the minor child in question. If he wanted to even stand a chance at gaining custody of Alistair, he would’ve gotten a lawyer.” Theodore scoffed incredulously whilst Julianna tried her hardest to suppress her smirk. Maxwell knotted his eyebrows together as furiosity consumed him.

Thankfully, Judge Wilson knew better to just dismiss his comment. He turned to Maxwell. “Mr Lorenzano, you said you were ‘busy doing other things’, indicating that those other things are the reason you did not find an attorney to represent your side of the case. May I ask what those things were? Perhaps a work commitment? Or a family commitment?”

Maxwell was still glaring at Theodore for his out of pocket comment. “I care about Alistair, so much.” Maxwell told the court, but his dark eyes were trained only on his ex wife and her current boyfriend. “I would argue that a week in advance is not enough time to hire a lawyer and familiarise themselves with the facts of this case. I was busy doing other things.”

“Facts?” Theodore laughed. “Your honor, Mr Lorenzano knows nothing about ‘facts’. This man is deceitful. He has built his whole career on lies. Don’t you think young Alistair deserves two good role models to look up to? For example, a stay at home mother such as Julianna who can give him her full attention and care, and a family lawyer such as myself, who fights for justice in society?” Maxwell felt nauseated as he was being forced to hear the absolute bullshit Theodore was spouting out. He was painting himself as some kind of hero to a courtroom who knew no different. But that’s what Theodore Thomas did the best. And that was why he was the most successful lawyer in Washington D.C.

“Uh,” Maxwell squeezed his eyes shut. “Not exactly. It’s complicated, your honor. I was in Athens with a friend.” He hated the way the revelation left his lips. But it was the truth. And if he had learned one thing from Diana, it was that the truth is beautiful. But was truth going to win the case?

Judge Wilson blinked momentarily as silence filled the courtroom. A smile flexed upon Theodore’s lips. “You were in Athens with a friend?” Judge Wilson repeated, gritting his teeth.

“Yes, your honor.” Maxwell sighed in admittance.

“Mr Lorenzano,” Judge Wilson addressed Max before glancing towards the jury who were taking notes. “I hope you realise this does not sound good in your favour.”

Maxwell cursed in his mind. Of course it didn’t. He’d gone with you to Athens to help you find and destroy the dreamstone. But he couldn’t say that in court. Hell, he couldn’t say that to anyone. You trusted him with your secret and he wasn’t going to expose you like that. Then again, you had broken your promise. You hadn’t shown up in court. You lied to him. And Maxwell was hurting a lot. He felt betrayed. Nevertheless, he still loved you so much. No doubt the jury would even believe the fact a magical goddess came into Max’s life and encouraged him to accompany her to Athens to destroy a wish-granting stone possessed by the God of Lies. That would just be ridiculous.

Maxwell didn’t reply. “On that note,” Judge Wilson grimaced before turning back to face Julianna and Theodore. “I ask that the claimant address all their points as to why they believe Mr Lorenzano is an unfit father to Alistair Lorenzano.”

Julianna clapped her hands excitedly. Maxwell figured she must have spent her entire life preparing herself for this moment. Max knew that he’d likely have to sit through possibly hours of Julianna and her sleazeball of a boyfriend demonizing him and pushing him down. Nothing new. But when it came to illustrating the point whether or not Maxwell was an unfit father, he didn’t want to hear it. To Max, Alistair was an angel. He deserved the best and Maxwell had always wanted to be the best for his son. None of this would’ve happened if Max hadn’t been led down such a dark path in the first place. Yes, Maxwell often doubted his capability as a parent, but at least he was trying to change. Julianna didn’t even care about Alistair. She was a neglectful mother, always dumping Alistair upon Max without warning so she could spend time with Ted or go shopping with her friends. Maxwell loved his son more than anything else in the whole world.

“Mr Lorenzano, as I’m sure you all know, is what I’d once describe to be a ‘successful’ businessman. Now I personally think he’s just a businessman,” Theodore smirked and Maxwell rolled his eyes. “He’s a television personality who goes by Max Lord. He’s a liar. A con man. Not only has he lied about his identity to the whole world, but he’s tricked the weak minded into investing into his ponzi-scheme.”

“Hey!” A juror interrupted. “I invested in Black Gold Cooperative!”

“Well-I mean, obviously you’re not weak minded.” Theodore quickly backtracked.

“He did just call you weak minded.” Maxwell muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. The juror frowned and sat back down.

An hour passed and both Julianna and Theodore were still taking turns to drag Max down. He felt like giving up. You were his only hope, and you weren’t even there. “Mr Lorenzano,” Judge Wilson began. “Do you have any objections to the claimants allegations?”

“Yes, I object to it all!” Max exclaimed.

“I should rephrase,” Judge Wilson sighed. “Are they telling the truth about you?”

They were. They hadn’t lied. They’d compiled a list of all of Maxwell’s mistakes, errors, and flaws. They had him backed up into a corner he couldn’t get out of. On occasions, were they making a mountain out of a molehill? Of course. But were they honest? Yes. Maxwell had fucked up.

“They are.” Maxwell nodded, his knees becoming weak with anxiety.

“Okay,” The Judge replied, his tone dripping with disappointment and perhaps even sadness. “It’s now your turn to speak, Mr Lorenzano. Although I have no doubt the jury has already come to a decision.”

Maxwell turned to face the jury who were looking at him with identical stone cold expressions. Like he was some kind of villainous monster. A lying criminal. And it was all thanks to Theodore’s stupid little speech.

“Uhm,” Maxwell stood up and brushed down his suit again before walking over to the jury. “Theodore is right. I have done bad things and I have lied to many people. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying to get better. For my son. For Alistair. He gives my life hope and reason and purpose. I believe that he makes me a better person. I’m not sure if any of you have kids of your own but you know how hard the pressure can be. The truth is, I never considered myself a family man. I never wanted children but when Alistair came into my life… for the first time I felt like the universe was on my side,” Maxwell took the polaroid out of his pocket and slid it over for the jury to look at. “This was the day he was born. I had never felt so much love.” Maxwell smiled faintly at the memory.

“Quit it with your sob story.” Theodore moaned, rolling his eyes.

“Let Mr Lorenzano speak.” Judge Wilson snapped back. Max nodded his head with gratitude.

“I never used to believe in love before Alistair was born. And then recently, I got lost. Things didn’t make sense and my mind became clouded with just about all the wrong things. And then this girl came into my life and she reminded me of how it feels to love and be loved in return. So now I do. I believe in love. I believe that love conquers all. That love can end all wars and quash all hatred in the world. Please, I ask that you empathize with me. We’ve all made mistakes. If I could go back and fix it I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Alistair.” Max croaked, letting a real, genuine tear slip down his cheek.

Silence filled the courtroom and deciding that Maxwell had nothing else to say, he sat back down in his seat. He knew he’d lost. You weren’t there to help him. He had no attorney. And like Diana had warned him; the consequences of his actions lay in his fate with Alistair. He was going to lose the little boy he loved so much. His only son.

Maxwell knew he was a lot of things but he was not an unfit father. He was prepared to give Alistair the world. An unfit father would be his own father. A man who spent his days drunk and abusing him and his mother. Both physical and mental torture. Max would never ever do that to Alistair. Ever. He tried so hard to be a positive, influential figure to Alistair because he never had one himself.

“I believe the jury has come to a conclusion,” Judge Wilson announced, taking a painful amount of time to open the envelope that had been handed to him. “The jury have decided that full custody of Alistair Lorenzano will be granted to Juli-”

“STOP!” You screamed, using your full force to push open the sturdy double doors that led into the courtroom.

The scene ahead was something straight out of a courtroom drama movie. Maxwell’s jaw dropped upon the sight of you and the jury gasped, muttering words of bewilderment amongst each other as you ran up to Max. And oh, you were a sight.

Maxwell didn’t know what happened, but there you were, dressed in red, blue and gold. He pinned it down to an Amazonian warrior’s outfit, for sure, because there was no way any Sears’ or Macy’s or Bloomingdales’ would sell anything like that. You were sparkling, your tiara fit perfectly on your head and your gladiator sandals tied in neat ribbons to your kneecaps. You looked like a real-life Goddess. In your element.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Maxwell gasped as you ran into his arms. You hugged him tight and he tried to hold back his cries. “Thought… you’d already gone back to Themyscira.”

The thought of you leaving Max without a proper goodbye was debilitating. He was the man who took you in, gave you a home and comfort, and showed you what real, true love was.

“I couldn’t leave without keeping my promise.” you sniffed, cupping his cheeks and offering him a small smile. You spent a moment just gazing into his chocolate brown eyes. In the past day, his eyes looked like they had aged ten years due to all the stress he was under -- but they were still the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

Gods, you loved him so much. And you wanted him to know how much you loved him. He deserved to know. But right now, you had to focus on keeping your promise. The reason you had come to the world of man in the first place was to reunite Alistair and Max, so that was exactly what you were going to do. You hadn’t constructed a plan, and you knew that would be your fatal error -- but it had to be now or never. All you could do was hope that, somehow, everything would fall into place. You cleared your throat and presented yourself in front of the judge, before introducing yourself. “I’m here to represent Maxwell Lorenzano in the custody battle for Alistair Lorenzano.”

The judge sighed, adjusting his white wig. “The case started two hours ago, ma’am. With all due respect, the jury has already reached a verdict. Unless you have any valid evidence as to why you believe Mr Lorenzano would make a worthy father, or Miss Grey an unworthy mother, there is nothing more I can do.”

You felt your heart stop in your chest and it was like everything around you was in slow motion. Goose pimples pricked your arms as you looked around the courtroom at all the different faces. You were standing in front of fifty or so people, easily and they were all staring at you. Of course you knew why… you weren’t exactly dressed like a ‘typical’ citizen of the world. But you just had to suck it up because you had made a promise to Maxwell, all those days ago. You had a duty to fulfil as the Goddess of home and hearth, and you knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but in that moment you knew exactly what you had to do.

“I have evidence.” you said with a shaky exhale.

Maxwell narrowed his eyes and leaned into you. “What?” he asked, just as confused as everyone else. Julianna and Theodore exchanged a nervous glance as the jury and audience continued to murmur amongst each other.

“Trust me.” you smiled a tearful smile and you felt your lips begin to quiver with anxiety. You closed your eyes and tried to regulate your breathing. It would be okay. It was going to be okay.

“Well, present your evidence.” Judge Wilson sighed and you nodded your head with affirmation.

Taking your lasso of truth, you began to unravel it, and showed the courtroom the way it glowed golden upon touching it. “What is that?” you heard one of the juror’s ask.

“This is the lasso of Hestia. It belonged to my mother and it’s powered by the truth. The truth and purity of the universe.” You explained, and the jury were in complete awe.

Julianna was the first one to burst into laughter. “You can’t be serious? A magical lasso? What? You got that from the costume and prop store on 2nd Street? Please. This is actually a serious case. Get outta here.” she snarled, her lips curling into a frown.

Maxwell went to snap back but you quickly stopped him before slowly padding towards Julianna and Theodore. And you smiled. “May I demonstrate?” you asked her, and Julianna gulped hesitantly. “If it’s just a prop from a costume store then… you have no reason to be afraid, do you?”

Julianna turned to Theodore who just shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Fine.” Julianna sighed, holding out her wrists. You carefully tied them together with the lasso before trailing it across the courtroom.

“Ted, Max, Judge Wilson… feel free to hold on to the lasso,” you pulled it to where the jury was sitting and made sure that each member held a tight grip onto it. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” you promised.

“What are you doing?” Maxwell gritted out. “I can’t let you do this. Exposing your powers in front of all these people… it’ll turn you into a mortal.”

You knew that. But it was a sacrifice you were willing to take. If this past week had taught you anything it was that love was the most beautiful thing in this universe. And that love truly does conquer all. You were able to tell Barbara that with your whole chest-- so just for once, maybe you should listen to yourself. You deserved your happy ending.

And you were never happy on Themyscira.

But here, with Maxwell and Alistair? You were happy.

You were finally happy and you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that.

Taking a deep breath, you shrugged off his comment and turned around to speak to the courtroom.

“The lasso of Hestia compels you all to see the truth about Alistair Lorenzano.”

You watched intently as their eyes snapped shut and they saw the truth. They saw how neglectful Julianna and Theodore had been, and how loving Maxwell was. How Maxwell flew home from Greece just to be with his son whilst Julianna left him in the house alone. They saw the way Julianna verbally abused Alistair, and Maxwell winced as it paralleled his own childhood memories. They saw it all. They saw the truth.

But-- it was draining you. It was like you could slowly feel your powers slip out of you. You were losing your immortality, and your strength. You felt yourself become weaker by the second until eventually, it was over. They opened their eyes and looked at Maxwell in shock.

You took the lasso from each person and you whimpered slightly at how weighted it suddenly felt in your grip. Attaching it back to your tunic, you took Maxwell’s hand. “Did it work?” you asked weakly, hoping and praying that your sacrifice would change something.

Maxwell swallowed but before he could open his mouth, a juror spoke.

“The jury would like to change their verdict.” he announced, and the judge looked down at the envelope. He rubbed his teary eyes and sighed. The Judge had been… crying?

“Well, I hereby grant custody of Alistair Lorenzano to his father, Maxwell Lorenzano.” Judge Wilson declared before banging his gavel down on the desk.

Julianna screamed. Members of the audience cheered. You turned to Maxwell who’s cheeks were tearstained. “Oh my Gosh Max, we did it!” you cried, and Maxwell let himself fall limp in your arms as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“You-- you just-- I can’t believe--” He cried before pulling off you and flashing you the most precious grin. It was enough to make your heart swell with happiness. “I can’t believe you sacrificed your powers for me and Ali--”

“Well, believe it.” you said, leaning in and pressing a soft yet passionate kiss into his lips. Max’s hands fell down to your hips as he held onto you and relished your taste. He pulled away from you and instinctively smoothed out your hair.

“I love you so much,” Maxwell admitted finally, unable to keep his true feelings to himself any longer. “I’m so in love with you.”

And now, it was your turn to cry. It was the words you had longed to hear from the moment you came to the world of man. “I love you too Maxwell Lorenzano,” you confessed, running your fingers through his golden hair. Max choked back a sob as he gazed into your eyes. “Come on,” you encouraged, rubbing the small of his back. “You have a son to get home to.” you giggled and Maxwell’s eyes lit up.

“Does this mean you don’t have to return to Themyscira?” Maxwell asked hopefully and you felt your cheeks flush with heat as you shook your head.

“No, I don’t have to return to Themyscira. I’m a mortal now, just like you”

Somehow, you thought you’d be hurting more. You just gave up your powers-- your whole life. But this… this felt perfect. Like it was meant to be. You weren’t hurting, in fact, you had never been so elated in your life.

“Well, you’ll always be a goddess to me.” Max confessed, pressing another kiss into your lips. “Come on. Let’s go get Alistair.” he grinned, tugging on your hand as you excitedly ran out of the courtroom together.

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theresthesnitch · 3 years

Text

As long as you love me

A/N: Another entry for @harryandginuary Bingo.

This is definitely not what this prompt was trying to get us to write, but I started typing and... Well, you'll see. I'm also dying to hear your thoughts on this, so leave me a comment, send me a message, write an angry post.

Read it (and comment and kudos!) here on AO3

Prompt: O 68. You invited me to your brother’s/sister’s wedding as a plus one because we’re hella best friends but we end up making out at the afterparty and now everyone thinks we’re together so ...you want to go out for a drink sometime? Try this whole couple thing out?

***

“Harry, would you like to dance?”

Harry looked up at Ginny from his reclined position in the chair next to her brothers, and she saw the shadow of pain cross his face before he broke out in a bright smile again. She didn’t think George or Charlie noticed, even sitting a few feet away from him. He was a much better actor than she had expected him to be, all things considered.

Harry took her hand, and she turned and led him out onto the dance floor. Facing him, Ginny placed her hand on his shoulder, and, still clutching her other hand, Harry hesitantly touched her waist. As they started to move together, Ginny thought that her family and all the guests around them would only see what they wanted - the two of them so in love and dancing the night away. Ginny ducked her head and closed her eyes, avoiding seeing the smile on her mother’s face or the whispers that passed between Angelina and Fleur. It was too hard when her heart lay broken in her chest.

What they did not know, could not know, was that this was the first time she had been close to Harry in nearly two months.

“It’s a wonderful wedding,” she said, trying to do something to break the tension between them. “Hermione’s dress is just beautiful.”

“It is. She’s always been beautiful.” It didn’t sound like Harry was talking about Hermione at that moment. His voice was hard, though when she looked at his face, there was no trace of it. He wore the mask well.

“They seem really happy.” Her voice was quiet now, the questions and the uncertainty that still lingered between them seeping into her words.

They were quiet for a long time, moving slowly, smiles plastered on their faces to keep up the charade. The last two months hung between them, the proverbial hippogriff in the room. Two months since they had broken up, torn apart by competing work schedules that kept them from seeing each other more than a night every few weeks. Neither one of them had fallen out of love, but neither wanted to commit to a relationship where they were more alone than they were together.

They had decided to keep it a secret for now, so close to Ron and Hermione’s wedding that it seemed unfair to spoil the mood. Perhaps it was just further proof of how much it wasn’t working between them that no one had even noticed. Not seeing each other in those two months, dodging questions when pressed by family, had been easier than the last several months of their relationship.

Even still, Ginny’s heart yearned to pull Harry closer, kiss him and claim him again. She loved him - she had always loved him and loved him still. It was intrinsically unfair that, after all they had been through during the war and since, they couldn’t make it work. Love simply wasn’t enough.

“I’ve been asked three times tonight when I’m going to propose to you.” Harry’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “It probably would be more, except Bill and Charlie were there when George sprung it on me.”

Ginny swallowed hard past a lump in her throat. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Harry responded with a sad lift to his voice. “I winked and smiled in what I hope was a mysterious and misleading way.”

“I’m sure it was fine. No one seems to realize.” She swallowed again, and looked away over Harry’s shoulder, where she caught the watery look on her mother’s face as she watched the two of them dance. “While we were all getting ready, mum and Hermione kept making sly comments about what my dress would look like and how my hair would look on my wedding day. I kept trying to refocus on Hermione and her dress, but Hermione said it helped distract her from her nerves.”

“We have to tell them. We can’t keep hiding this.”

“I know.” Ginny laid her head on Harry’s shoulder, hoping the gesture looked intimate rather than as desperate as she felt. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Harry agreed. His hand slipped from the spot it held lightly on her waist around to the small of her back, and he drew her in closer to him. She did not pull away.

They continued dancing, even after the song ended. A new song started up and neither one of them made any move to break apart. The slow swaying and the close press of their bodies allowed Ginny to almost forget the deep pit of sadness inside her belly.

It was hard, when your reasons to be apart were not that you wanted to be but that you simply could not be otherwise. They avoided breaking things off for months, in spite of the fact that they both saw the problem, but there just hadn’t been time for them to really connect. Either Ginny was traveling with the Harpies or Harry was squirreled away with the Aurors hunting some leftover Death Eater faction. They so often couldn’t even write letters because an owl would give away Harry’s position.

Eventually, they were getting updates on each other from the rest of the Weasleys on their forever alternating weekends back home, or little messages left in their kitchen, and they would go weeks without seeing each other in more than passing. It was not conducive to a healthy relationship, as much as they both wanted it to work.

There was no massive fight. They didn’t hurl hateful comments at each other. They didn’t shout or yell or scream. There was only the final vocalizations that this wasn’t working anymore, and the quiet negotiation of how to split their shared lives. They agreed to keep it quiet until after the wedding, and Ginny decided to stay at her room in Harpies’ headquarters until then. In the space of a twenty minute conversation, they were done.

Ginny chanced a glance up to Harry, and found him intently looking back at her. His green eyes were shimmering, and though he looked happy and at peace, she knew him too well to miss the storm behind his eyes. She reached up and placed a hand on his face, cupping his jaw and running her finger over his cheek. He leaned into her hand slightly, closing his eyes and accepting the small touch. Without thinking, she stretched up on her toes and placed her lips on his in a soft, chaste kiss.

A heartbeat after their lips met, she felt Harry freeze against her, and she realized what she had done. They may have put on a brave and loving facade for her family, but they had a silent agreement against such intimate gestures. It was too hard, and too easy, to slip up.

She started to pull away, already crafting an excuse or an apology in her head, when Harry began moving again and kissed her back. He moved quickly, with a heat to his kiss that Ginny recognized and met in kind. It was quickly becoming the kind of kiss that would no longer be appropriate in public - on the dance floor, in front of her family - but Ginny didn’t care. Harry was kissing her again, and she was kissing him in return. It didn’t even matter that they had broken up -

Ginny broke the kiss suddenly. They had broken up. They didn’t get to kiss like this anymore. They didn’t get to kiss anymore.

“Sorry,” she muttered, pressing her face to his shoulder. Harry didn’t respond.

They danced the rest of the song, and when it ended, Harry stepped away, gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She watched him walk to the edge of the dance floor, clapping Ron on the back and throwing a smile at Hermione as he walked by the spot they were dancing. It was lucky that they were so wrapped up in one another, Ginny thought, because there was no way otherwise that Hermione would miss the look on Harry’s face. He slipped out the door of the marquee and disappeared into the night.

Ginny wandered over by the drink table, grabbing another as she casually circumnavigated her way around the room and out the same door Harry just left through. She didn’t see him immediately outside, but followed part instinct and part inane understanding of Harry toward the makeshift quidditch pitch. As she walked through the row of trees, she found him pacing furiously back and forth. He glanced up when she walked in, but did not slow his steps. She leaned back against a tree, waiting for him to speak.

“You can’t kiss me.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“I mean it. We aren’t together anymore, and that means that you don’t get to kiss me.”

“I know, Harry.”

“Do you? Because we just kissed in front of your whole family, and we’re about to go tell them that we are over, and you’ve got a lot of angry brothers that are going to hold that kiss against me.”

“I’ll tell them that it was me.”

“It won’t matter.” Harry was still pacing, speaking as fast as his feet were moving. “It won’t matter because I kissed you and they’re all going to wonder why we were kissing like that if we aren’t together. They would be right, too, because why are we broken up when kissing you feels like that? I thought I knew, but then you kissed me, and Ginny, I don’t know which way is up anymore.”

Suddenly, he was standing in front of her, his feet staggered between hers, their legs pressed together, and his hands were on either side of her face, tangled in her hair, drawing her up until her lips were a breath away from his. His piercing green eyes were fixed on hers, and she couldn’t look away.

He spoke softly now, so quiet that she stilled her breathing to hear him even though he was only a bit away. “I know that we broke up, and we are here just as friends and to keep this farce up for your family, but then you kissed me like that and…” He trailed off, and his eyes flicked down to her lips again. “Tell me why we can’t try again. We can make a go of this again. We can try harder. We can do it.”

“Harry,” she breathed out his name on a sigh, and wrapped her hands around his wrists. “It’s not that I don’t love you or don’t want to do this. But we tried, and it didn’t work. That kiss in there doesn’t change the fact that our schedules don’t work. We never see each other, and I can’t be in a relationship with only the memory of you.”

Harry’s eyes closed, as though not seeing her would stop her argument from being true. “Then we make a change.”

“What change, Harry?” she asked. “Am I supposed to quit being a Harpy? Are you going to quit being an Auror? We’ve chosen these paths, or they’ve chosen us, and they just don’t work together.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Maybe you will what?”

“Quit. I could quit.”

“Harry…”

“No, really, I could. I don’t need the money. I don’t need to do this job. I put in my time hunting Voldemort. I could quit.”

She pulled his hands from her face, and kissed the inside of his wrists before dropping their hands between them. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Maybe I do.”

“No, Harry, and I wouldn’t let you.” Ginny looked up into his eyes again. “You love what you do. You wouldn’t be happy if you quit, and I don’t want to be the reason you aren’t happy.”

“You are the reason right now.”

Ginny closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. “I know, but it will get better. I can’t let you change who you are for me.”

“Even if I want to?”

“If I did, you would regret it. Maybe not immediately, but you would resent me, eventually.”

He didn’t respond. For a moment, they stood together, heads pressed together and hands linked between them. It felt like goodbye, though neither one of them dared say it. If they didn’t say it, there was still a chance, a hope, that maybe it wasn’t goodbye forever.

Ginny felt herself pull away, and before she could see whatever silent message his eyes were sending her way, she turned around and walked away.

#harry and ginuary bingo #ginuary bingo #harry potter #ginny weasley #but make it angsty #hinny #hinny angst #maybe a part 2 if there is any interest #or the right prompt appears #snitchwrites

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spicykoreantatertots · 3 years

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Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs - Part One

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: hanahaki, angst, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: blood, choking, coughing, vomiting, hanahaki disease, relationship issues, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions of hospitals

A/N: this is my first fic in a while and i’m happy to finally be able to share something again. i’m determined to finish this series by the end of may and finish my soulmate series this summer.

thank you to @shadowsremedy for this banner and to @thesoftsoobin for beta reading for me.

this was meant to be a gift for @dee-ehn, well it still is a gift, but it should’ve been posted a long time ago. i’m happy to finally be able to present you with this gift, i hope you enjoy part one of Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs!

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

Tonight isn’t the first night that you’ve shown up at Jin’s door sobbing. At this rate, it probably won’t be the last. He still hasn’t read your texts about needing a place to stay, so he’s probably asleep.

You knock loudly a few times, careful not to disturb the floral wreath hanging on the center of the door. And after a few moments you can hear some footsteps inside the apartment. There’s some more silence and then you can hear hushed whispers.

The door creaks open and Jin’s boyfriend Namjoon is standing before you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Namjoon sighs sleepily.

“You scared us! I even got my old tennis racquet out of the closet!” Jin complains before he pokes his head around Namjoon’s broad shoulders. The tear stains and redness of your face instantly catch his attention. “Oh no, what happened?”

For a moment, you can’t say anything. Your chest fills with emotions. Pain, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. The words can’t get past your trembling lips, and soon you feel Jin’s arms envelop you, his sweater absorbing your burning tears.

Somehow, through all your blubbering, Jin has been able to understand what happened with Yoongi. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, guiding you to the couch that will be your bed for the next few nights. Namjoon has brought over a pillow, blanket, and a glass of water for you.

“Why don’t you lay down and try to sleep now? This isn’t going to be resolved tonight, unfortunately,” Namjoon interrupts Jin’s comforting whispers.

“He’s right, Y/N, I can tell you’re exhausted. Try to get some rest.” Jin helps you get settled in bed before following Namjoon into their bedroom.

Jin was right. You are completely exhausted, emotionally drained. But every time you attempt to close your eyes, all you can see is him, the flowers, and the blood.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Evening]

Something is off. He’s been coming home late everyday for the past few weeks. You hoped that today, of all days, he would make an effort. But here you are, alone, surrounded by a table full of his favorite foods. From the moment you got home from work, you’d been on your feet cooking. As if your job waiting tables wasn’t strenuous enough.

Lately it feels like you’re the only one making an effort in this relationship. He leaves for work before you wake up, returns after you’ve gotten into bed for the night. He doesn’t even take the lunches you pack for him to work anymore. You never would have suspected Yoongi of cheating on you, but his behavior is making you question everything you thought you knew.

Today will be the final straw, you told yourself. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner on your three year anniversary, it would be time to confront him. But as six turns into seven and seven into eight, you decide to pack the meal into tupperware.

You expected tears to come, but they didn’t. Your cheeks are bone dry while you pile the rice into a slightly warped plastic container. You’re in disbelief, or perhaps you just expected this all along. The containers of untouched anniversary dinner stack neatly in the refrigerator.

The sound of keys jingling against the door signals his arrival before he opens the door. You lean yourself against the kitchen counter, grounding yourself.

“Hey babe, happy anniversary!” Yoongi’s smile shines, like it always does, but his eyes aren’t as bright. He’s carrying a bouquet of small sunflowers.

“Happy anniversary.” A faint smile crosses your face as he hands you the bouquet. He looks a little puzzled by your lack of gratitude. But then he notices the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Oh, did you make dinner?” You nod silently as Yoongi shuffles the pots and pans around in the sink. “I made us reservations at The Table. Did you eat already?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“No!” You try again, this time suppressing the surprise in your voice. “No, I haven’t. That sounds really good.” Maybe things aren’t as bleak as they seem; at least he didn’t completely forget.

The ride to the restaurant is nearly silent, some tacky radio advertisements playing quietly. He’s holding your hand, but you’re looking out the window, focused on everything but the uncomfortable quiet. Yoongi breaks the silence and mentions something about the project he’s working on at the studio.

The studio, you think to yourself. Of course that’s all he can talk about. His passion has always been music. You were both thrilled when he got an entry level job at a music studio, and at the beginning things were good. But Yoongi always strives to be the best, and he moved up the ladder to Assistant Producer in less than a year.

Whatever album he’s working on now has kept him away from you for far too long.

“So when is that album releasing anyway?”

“Later this summer, but our work on it is almost done.” He says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So you’ll be back home at normal times?”

“Well...” Yoongi glances over at you. “Jungkook wants me to work on another project with him when this one’s over.”

“I’m glad your boss likes your work, but hasn’t he ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“Jungkook is NOT my boss. He's-” Yoongi starts.

“Well he’s not your girlfriend either!” You shout. “You’re never home anymore Yoongi.” Your hand slips from his and you cross your arms.

“This is my career.” Something catches in his throat, he coughs a little. You knew he loved his job, but you never heard him get emotional about it.

“So I just need to accept that I’ll never get to see you again?” Yoongi pulls up to the front of the restaurant, in line for valet parking.

“Do you want to go home and keep fighting or do you want to get dinner?” He asks, still trying to clear his throat.

The restaurant is very nice: a robust wine selection, a pianist playing in one corner, and a sleek menu. The other tables are talking in quiet voices to retain the romantic ambiance of the place. You and Yoongi are doing your part by not speaking at all.

He’s making it tough though; he keeps coughing. You hope he’s not getting sick.

“Are you okay?” You ask, passing him a tissue from your purse, trying your best not to sound angry.

“Yeah I’ve just got something stuck in my throat, excuse me.” Yoongi snatches the tissue from your hand before walking toward the restroom.

When he returns, he looks a little worse for the wear. His skin looks paler, his hair mussed, and a wet spot on his shirt.

“Are you getting sick?” You have to ask him now. “What’s that?” You point to the wet spot just below his collar.

“I got some spit on my shirt. I do think I’m coming down with something, but I’ll be fine.” Something doesn’t seem right. He looks more than sick, almost paranoid.

Through the rest of the night he coughs here and there, but he seems to regain his composure. His long dark locks get tucked behind his ear, and for a moment you can forget how hard things have been lately. He asks about your work friends and hobbies and seems to listen intently. The curve of his smile draws a smile out of you too.

Between dinner and dessert, Yoongi reaches across the smooth table cloth to take your hand in his. His thumb gently strokes your fingers.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks, his smile faded to a straight line. You squeeze his hand.

“You’re going to have to do a better job of showing it.”

~~~~~~~

You’re not sure if it’s the best move, but you want to show him that you haven’t given up yet. When you step out of the bathroom, wearing a revealing chemise, Yoongi is sitting on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, climbing onto the bed. He sighs, and you reach for his shoulders. You begin rubbing his shoulder muscles, feeling the tension in them slowly releasing. Kneading his back muscles with your fingers, you lean forward to lay kisses along his broad shoulders.

“Baby, can we not tonight?” You freeze, not sure you heard him correctly. “I know it’s our anniversary, I just don’t feel good.” You remove your hands from his body.

“Yeah, of course. There’s some cough medicine and painkillers in the bathroom if it will help.” You reply, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through your twitter feed so you can hide your embarrassment.

“I’m going to take a shower. You don’t have to wait up for me.” He gets up from the bed and enters the bathroom without glancing your way. You settle into the blankets and try to relax.

You can hear him coughing again once the shower turns on. You turn over in bed, his sudden cold demeanor reminding you of the trouble your relationship is really in. It’s hard to fall asleep to the sound of your boyfriend coughing violently, but you manage to drift away.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

The sound of Namjoon leaving the apartment wakes you. It must be around 7:30 or so. Jin is in the kitchen quietly making coffee, still in his pajamas.

“Jin, are you not going to work today?” You say in a half-whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay with you today,” Jin explains, walking over to the couch with two mugs of coffee. He made yours just the way you like it, almond milk and a little bit of sugar. The warmth of the drink momentarily soothes your sleepy body.

Jin reaches across the coffee table and picks up the tv remote. He turns on a morning talk show, some washed-up celebrity talking to slightly less washed-up celebrities about what projects or life events they have going on.

“And later on in the show we will be joined by Jackson Wang, who will share his story of heartbreak and unrequited love that ultimately lead to the creation of his latest single, 100 ways.” The audience cheers for a moment before Jin switches the channel.

“Sorry.” He sighs.

“I don’t think that’s what the song is about...” You joke, sarcasm seeping through the pain in your chest.

Jin chuckles at your remark, but he sits uncomfortably at the end of the couch picking at his fingernails.

“Listen I wanted to say something...” He starts.

“Jin, do you think I could shower before we get into anything? I just need a minute to wake up and I feel kind of gross.” The mascara stains from the night before are beginning to irritate your skin, and a hot shower could do wonders for you. But truthfully, you just aren’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Sure, I’ll grab some sweats you can borrow.” Jin sighs, getting up from his seat.

The hot water melts away the tension in your muscles, but the tension in your mind remains. It’s difficult to keep the images of Yoongi coughing up dozens and dozens of yellow and orange petals from flooding your mind. The drops of blood on the petals and the floor just showed you how far the disease had progressed. How long he’s been in love with someone else.

The floral scent of Jin’s lavender body wash is a little too reminiscent of the smell from the night before. Sickly sweet flowers with a hint of acidic bile and metallic blood. The clean water rinses the suds but the scent remains on your skin.

When you close your eyes to rinse shampoo from your hair, the scene from the night before plays out in vivid detail.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

You had been awakened by the sounds of Yoongi retching in the bathroom. You called out for him, but he didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

He is doubled over the toilet. A dozen or so brightly colored petals scattered around him, some smeared with watery blood. The moment you burst in, he tried to hide the extent of it, tried not to let you see but he knew it was useless. He let himself lean against the wall in defeat.

The violent episode he was experiencing seemed to come to a halt.

“Are you...” You pause, there are too many questions to ask, but you know there is only one you can ask in the moment. “Are you okay?” He closes his eyes and nods slowly. You take a moment to examine his face. It’s red, and there are tear streaks clear down his chin. There’s drops of blood and sweat on his bare chest. His heavy breathing is slowing back to normal.

And then you have to leave. You can’t stay and look at him and his flower petals any longer. It looks like he’ll be okay for the night, so you grab your purse and phone and walk straight through the door.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

Bumps rise across your skin as you exit the shower and step onto the cold floor tiles. You wrap a towel around your body and sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your phone, face down on the counter, buzzes again, and you decide to face the messages you ignored last night.

You scroll through the usual email and social media notifications to get to the dozens of texts and missed calls from Yoongi, still unsure if you should even hear him out. How can he still be in love with you when he’s been growing flowers for someone else?

A phone call interrupts your thinking. The number has a local area code. A sudden feeling of nausea tells you that something is wrong.

“Hello?” Your voice echos against the tiled walls.

“Hello we are trying to reach Ms. Y/L/N Y/N.”

“This is her.”

“You are listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Min Yoongi. He has been admitted to the ICU at Grace Regional Medical Center, how quickly can you get here?”

~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you so much for reading. check out my master list here, and check back in for part two. it will be posted by the end of april 2021!

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fascination-street-writing · 3 years

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Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband –, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

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