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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she wasn’t talking to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gimme a moment.”

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

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hated those dreams.

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

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

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

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

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

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

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

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

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged. “Not today.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

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

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

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

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

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

The door dinged instead.

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

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

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

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

I think she recognized me too.

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

She cleared her throat first.

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

The door was right there.

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

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

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

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

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

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

“Any of them come visit?”

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

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

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

“You like poetry.”

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

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

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

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

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

I barely looked over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So pushy.”

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

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

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

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

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

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

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

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

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

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

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

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

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

“You got money for that?”

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

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the butterfly?”

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

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

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

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

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

“Alright . . .”

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

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

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

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

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

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

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

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to share with the class?”

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

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

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

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

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Spooky Season Special: Until Dawn (Male!Reader x Chris)

Prologue: Bystander

-One Year Ago-

Let's just say, you had been shocked when Beth Washington winked at you and slipped a sparkly envelope into your hand. Hannah had gotten overzealous with the glitter glue again, and it was a wild mess that had held your invitation to Blackwood Pines for the annual winter getaway party weekend hosted by the Washington siblings.

Mike and Emily had grinned when you told them, which was gratifying. To tell the truth, you had never felt like anything more than a satellite to the group. They all seemed so tight with each other, and all you really knew were Mike and Em. Mike because he'd been your best friend since you were toddlers, and Em since she was Mike's girlfriend and you both shared multiple advanced courses. Even despite him being athletic and your typical big man on campus, Mike had been at your side for years, even when your interests diverged. You even helped make posters for his class president campaign in your spare time, which he joked made you responsible for his victory.

But still, you never really considered yourself part of that group until Beth handed you the invitation. You had only really hung out with the group on occasion, but you knew what it was really about.

Damn Mike. He had told Beth about your crush on Chris. He or Emily had. And now they were going to play matchmaker. You weren't about to let that happen, but you figured this was your ticket to making more friends and hanging out with Mike more. ...And Chris.

And really, partying with the Washingtons was fun. Who gets to go up to a HUGE lodge in the mountains only accessible by cable car? Even the vaguely sinister sensation of being trapped couldn't undo your feeling that you were now part of an exclusive gang. You ended up on the cable car with Ashley and Sam, who immediately drew you into a conversation (Sam protested playfully when Ashley turned the conversation to a book she was reading about ghosts) and the fun began.

There was the requisite teasing of Sam as she went upstairs to take a luxurious bath in the Washingtons' simply enormous tub in the master bathroom ("Try not to use all the hot water this time, Sam!" from Beth and a "Hardy-har" from Sam as a retort.)

It started out simple enough. Hannah and Matt brought down some board games from a closet and you all began playing. At one point someone suggested Jenga and everyone held their breath as you watched the tower wobble...

Don't Move. .. . .. . .. . .. .... .. ..... ... .. .... .. .. .. .... .. . . . .

...and you finally breathed again when it was certain the tower wouldn't collapse. And then, of course, Josh and Chris arrived on Emily's turn, and she promptly knocked over the wooden blocks. She complained a little, but clearly was happy the group was all together.

Chris and Josh promptly forced open the liquor cabinet and led a toast to old friends, and lifted a glass to you and added "and to new friends!" Beth, ever-responsible, gave a disapproving look at her older brother and passed around cream sodas instead. But really, only you, Sam, and Beth chose to remain sober. Chris and Josh started a drinking game by singing the Pokerap from the Pokemon anime and drinking whenever they got the words wrong, and quickly started devolving into drunken messes. Mike and Emily started making out, and Sam was catching up with Ashley and Matt - Jessica was talking to Hannah.

Beth invited you up to her room to watch Pride and Prejudice on the new TV she had gotten in there, but really, it was just a pretext. You knew it the moment the movie started playing and Beth looked over at you. "So... Chris, huh?"

Secretive - "What about him?" Exasperated - "Ugh, Mike told you?"

Beth grinned apologetically. "Emily, actually. But don't worry, I won't blab. I think it's cute. And hey, I'm here for you."

You smiled a little. It might actually be good to have more friends you can talk to about this. When you told Mike you liked boys, and that you liked Chis, he had teased you about having a hunk of prime beef in front of you - himself - and you chose the nerd anyway. Beth, at least, seemed less likely to ridicule you.

"It doesn't matter, though." you had groaned. "He's got a crush on Ashley."

"So?" Beth asked. "Josh once had a crush on Britney Spears at the same time he discovered Leo DiCaprio. People can have multiple crushes. And I'm pretty sure Chris doesn't just like you because you can beat him at Street Fighter."

"Fine, you may have a point. But I'm not gonna make any moves tonight! Looks like Chris is on a one-way trip to Hangover City."

She smiled wryly. "Ugh. Guess I have to make hangover cures in the morning. If you and Sam are the only other sober ones, wanna help? We can make vegan pancakes just the three of us!"

You grinned. "That actually sounds really fun."

"Great!"

You watched the rest of the movie, and finally decided it was time to check on the others, realizing you hadn't heard much during your little party.

"Guys?" Beth called, a little confused when no one answered. The two of you wandered down, only to find Chris and Josh, slumped over the kitchen island, a few empty bottles of liquor between them. Beth gave a chuckle that became a sigh. You remember this part so much more clearly.

Beth looked out the window, and frowned. "There's someone out there! I thought Mom and Dad said it would be just us this weekend."

"Maybe it's the trees? They're pretty creepy at night." you suggested, not wanting the creepy idea of someone else being on the mountain to take root.

She looked away, unsure, then glanced at the bottles.

"Ugh... Once again, big brother, you've outdone us all." Beth said, her eyes roving over the bottle-covered table. She picked up a piece of paper and read it, wincing. "This is - what has my naïve sister gotten herself into now?"

You take the paper, only really having time to read the words "Hannah" and "Mike xoxo" before someone went running by, sobbing. Beth went charging after them...

Wake Chris Follow Beth

...but you quickly tried shoving Chris to wake him up. But even with you yelling in his ear, he was dead to the world. You ran out after Beth, only to run right into Matt's back.

"You know, Mike, I think you're the last person she wants to see right now." Sam was saying.

"What the hell is going on?" you asked, looking from face to face. Emily disgusted, Sam worried, Mike and Jessica looking uneasy... "Where's Beth? And Hannah?"

"Hannah overreacted to this prank we pulled," Ashley frowned. "And Beth ran after her."

"What do you think, Y/N? Should we go looking for them?" Mike wondered.

Concerned - "Beth said someone else was out there..." Responsible - "We should get help..."

"They say you really shouldn't split up in a snowstorm. Beth's smart. I'm sure she'll bring Hannah back. But just in case, let's call the ranger station?" you said. You remember the group all nodding, more at ease now that there was a plan. Emily went to call, while Mike and Matt tried to wake up Chris and Josh, and you tried to get what happened out of Jessica and Ashley, because Sam refused to talk to any of them.

A horrible prank... and two deaths. For a whole year, the idea that maybe, if you had made some other choice, you could have prevented it, consumed you. Maybe if you had chased after Hannah more quickly you could've stopped her, or maybe at least convinced Beth not to run and to call the ranger station instead... maybe at least one of the twins would still be alive.

Things only got worse after the trip. You thought it might bring you more friends, but the group fractured down the middle. Eventually Em and Mike broke up, making it really awkward to choose between them. Sam had distanced herself from the others, angry at them for the prank, and you hadn't heard from her for months. And Chris... you two had gotten a little closer, but really this tragedy had struck all of you and changed everything.

You hadn't known Josh that well, so it was surprising that he asked you to come back up to the lodge. And although it might be weird, definitely uncomfortable... you find yourself on a bus, headed right back up to Mount Washington.

With no idea of what the night will hold...

#until dawn #until dawn x reader #chris hartley x reader #chris hartley x male reader #until dawn fic

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dandelionflower · 3 years

Text

She sings alone

When they got to the room, Adrien was sitting at an enormous piano, playing a jaunty tune and bouncing in his seat. He wasn’t even looking at the keys, his eyes roaming the room and choosing to stick on-

Lila.

Oh.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t seen her come in. After all, the piano was really big, so even if Adrien was looking directly at the door, he might not have seen them come in.

Lila danced around the room, orange skirt warping around her legs as she spun near to Alya and pulled her deeper into the spacious closet, taking one of her hands and joining it with Nino, leading the pair in a quick-paced dance until she was satisfied that they would carry it on without her.

Adrien’s eyes stayed on her, closing slightly as he allowed for a fond smile.

Okay, okay fine. That was fine. Adrien was allowed to watch his friends! Even if his friend was (ugh) Lila. Marinette drifted further into the room, keeping to the walls as other friends mimicked Alya and Nino’s lively movements.

Finally, (finally!) Adrien’s eyes caught hers and he gave her a cocky wink as the song he was playing changed bit by bit until it was the accompaniment to her favorite pop song; one they had sung together on their way back from their first date.

Marinette’s lips turned up in a fond smile (she really couldn’t resist those green eyes, huh?) as she took a deep breath and-

“Living in my own world...” Lila hummed out the starting notes, approaching the piano with a coy smile, like Adrien was doing this for her. “Didn’t understand…”

Marinette dug her fingernails into the heel of her hand. This was fine. This was fine. Nothing wrong with a couple of friends singing a song together! Even if it happens to be one of the friends’ girlfriend’s favorite.

Lila hopped up on top of the piano, turning her waist so that while her knees faced one of the walls, her torso was pointed directly towards Adrien, so Marinette wasn’t even able to see what sort of expressions she was making.

...not that she needed to. Because she wasn’t. No one liked a jealous girlfriend, and anyway, Adrien knew Lila was a liar! So there’s no way he could be interested.

Lila leaned forwards, recapturing Adrien’s attention from the keys and forcing it back to her face. Adrien tensed in surprise, but seemed to relax even more than he previously was once his eyes landed back on Lila’s face.

Aaaaaand that was that. She needed to step out for a second.

Marinette pushed off of the wall and began traversing through the dancing pairs, eyes on the doorway. She had only made it halfway when Alix grabbed her and began leading her in an odd dance of her own.

“My usual partners are a bit occupied.” She quipped, jerking her head towards Kim, who was trying fruitlessly to get Chloe to join him on the floor. Nathaniel and Max had their own partners as well, though Sabrina and Marc seemed a bit more acquiessing than Kim’s intended. “Thought since you weren’t dancing, you’d like to join me.”

Marinette remembered all the times Alix had protested cancelling or even postponing class dances due to scheduling. During Bubbler, Alix almost seemed disappointed for the party to be over. Even though she never claimed to be as formal as her father, it was clear that she loved dancing in a crowd with only another person as her anchor in the waves of people.

She put on an encouraging smile, not looking at whatever scene was happening by the piano. Alix was her friend, and if she wanted to be dancing, they would dance.

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of me.” Marinette could focus on this, just this, until the song was over and she could go, or, even better, join Adrien by the piano.

It wasn’t a problem, until at the end of the song, Adrien’s voice harmonized with Lila’s in a chord that was so beautiful, it shattered her heart in more ways than one. Alix spun Marinette and between rotations she saw how close the two were, and how excited Adrien seemed. She caught her in a dip and Adrien pressed the keys in the final note, everyone separating from their partners to applaud the musical duo.

“That was great, you guys!” Nino placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “A match made in heaven!” His eyes caught Marinette’s and he amended his statement. “A professional match made in business heaven?”

Lila laughed and gave a mock bow. “Thanks, Nino. I wasn’t really planning on singing; after the rock slide accident where I had to call for help in the freezing cold for hours, I didn’t think my vocal cords would be up to it, but when I heard my favorite song start playing, I guess it was just instinct.” She shrugged in a gesture of humility that was about as real as the rest of her.

“Well, your instincts were great.” Adrien commented, standing up from the piano bench and giving her one of his wholesome smiles. “I really enjoyed playing with you.”

“Likewise.” Lila smiled back until her gaze wandered to Marinette. (Of course, everyone but her boyfriend was looking at Marinette (nope, no not bitter at all)) “Oh, Marinette! You’re still doing the costumes right?”

Marinette nodded, once, teeth grit into a smile.

“I found the most beautiful dress,” she spun to a box that was sitting by the wall, picking it up to bring it to Marinette and show her the red silk inside, “and I’d really love it if you’d modify it for me?” She tilted her head forwards and gave Marinette pitiful eyes. As if she didn’t already know Marinette couldn’t say no in front of everyone.

“Of course. I’d just need your measurements and what you want me to do with the dress.” She could be a ventriloquist with how little she was moving her mouth.

“Great!” She pulled out the bottom of the dress, showing off a familiar skirt. It was the dress from the picture. “I’d really like it if you could make it more form-fitting, less poofy, you know?”

“Don’t you think we should ask if we can modify these dresses before we make any decisions?” Please don’t make me ruin such an incredible dress. “Technically, they are historical artifacts.”

“Grace said you could redesign the costumes, right?” Alya tapped at her phone and pulled up a recording she had made.

“Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends.” Grace’s digitized voice affirmed Lila’s request.

“That settles it then,” at least one of her teeth must have cracked by now, right? “I’ll just get your measurements and edit the skirt. I’ll need to do it some other time, since I don’t have my-”

“Measuring tape?” Lila whipped out a stylized tape from the box. It was rose gold and was almost calling to her. “I found this near the dress. I’m sure it will work.”

Marinette took the device reverently, running her thumb over the engraved vines on the sides before catching herself and looking up.

“That’ll work. Can you hold your arms out?”

Marinette took Lila’s measurements with a practice ease, and rechecked before typing her numbers and desired modifications into a document on her phone. When she looked up, she was surrounded by boxes and her friends, looking at her with hopeful eyes, as well as a stack of suits of each boy, none of whom seemed to care.

“Okay, what do you want changed? I already have your measurements.” She knelt down and sat beside Lila’s box, letting her friends come to her. This was her favorite part about designing; giving people what they wanted and making them look however they liked.

Rose and Alix both wanted the fabrics from their dresses converted into suits. That was easy enough. Alya found a sweet orange dress that she just needed refitted. Juleka muttered something about “less wide, but still swishy.” Mylene wanted the opposite; to give her dress a larger diameter.

All in all, Lila’s would probably take the longest, because she wanted all the complexities of the intricate gown to be stripped off and for the silk to be repurposed as a cocktail dress.

Marinette nodded to herself and began stacking boxes, looking up at her friends who were still standing awkwardly nearby.

“Guys, these are way too many boxes for one person to carry; let’s each grab a box and take them to Marinette’s room!” Lila chirped, leaning down to pick up her dress, the hem of it dragging on the grimy closet floor.

Everyone murmured an agreement and picked up their respective costumes, filing out the door. Marinette was the last one out, but just as she was about to step out, she found herself face-to-face with Lila.

“You haven’t found your dress yet, have you Marinette?” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but with the masked loathing that Marinette found herself recognizing whenever Lila spoke to her. “Why don’t you spend more time in the closets?”

Before she could realize what was happening, the closet door had slammed in her face and clicked with what Marinette was certain was a lock.

“Oh no, Marinette!” She heard Lila’s muffled ‘concern’ through the door.

“What happened?” Alya’s voice grew louder as she approached the door, or, more likely, Lila.

“Marinette stopped to tie her shoe and I must have bumped the door closed by accident. I feel so guilty.” Sure, and the tears Lila was crying right now weren’t crocodiles.

“It’s fine girl,” Alya reassured her (no, it wasn’t fine!), “I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. Here, give me your box; I’ll take it upstairs while you go find someone who can get her out.”

“Right.” The sound of receding footsteps; they must have left. “Just as soon as I have a chat with one mister Agreste.” ...or not. There was a cheery ring of the phone, and Lila’s smug tone melted into something more pathetic. “Adrien! Come back downstairs, quick! I’ll meet you at the front desk.” Lila chuckled and left with a single knock at the closet door.

...Great. She was stuck. Through sheer habit from akuma attacks, Marinette traced all four walls with a finger, looking for another secret passage, or even a normal one at this point. Nothing, because of course when she’s comfortable she finds a random exit, but not when she actually needs it.

She groaned and fell back against the wall, sliding to the ground and tilting her head back so she could close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t actually in this situation.

The people I’m closest to either don’t know what’s going on or think it’s handled. She thought morosely. So I might as well get comfortable.

Just as she was about to let herself take a little cat nap (she could hear Chat Noir snickering now), she heard a trill come from the piano. Her eyes cracked open and slid to the corner of the room with the instrument, thinking that maybe one of her friends stayed behind.

But no one was there.

Marinette’s curiosity won out and she approached the keys. They pressed down in a few familiar chords; another one of her favorite songs. She wasn’t really sure how self-playing pianos worked, but it must have been ‘programmed’ with some of the more recent pop songs, despite the fact that the room looked like it had been untouched for years, aside from their recent discovery of it.

Shrugging, she sat down at the bench, watching as the keys continued playing the introduction to her second favorite song. She had nothing better to do, why not?

“I’ve got a lot of things I have to do… All these distractions, our future’s coming soon…”

She sang through the entire song, leaning to her left side occasionally, like some other person was sitting beside her; someone that hadn’t left. Marinette closed her eyes and adopted the illusion of company. Blond hair, beautiful eyes, a teasing grin- no a half-smile, like he’s hiding how much he’s enjoying this. Even though he knows she knows he loves it, just like she does.

Just like she loves him. Her grumpy dork. Her Fe-

There was a clatter near the door, and it crumpled, revealing Allegra, leg out in front of her like she had just kicked it down. Which she probably had.

“Marinette? Lost again?” Her laugh seemed shaken, nervous. She had expected to see someone else.

“Something like that.” She matched the laugh; Allegra’s business was her business. Not Marinette’s.

“Well, come on out.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Your friends are looking for you.”

They walked together out of the ballroom and into the main entrance of the building, where Alix and Kim accosted her immediately.

“Marinette! We need your help. Nino’s gone missing?”

“Grace!” Allegra barrelled into the room like a tornado. “He’s here! He’s manifesting.”

Her clipboard clattered to the floor as Grace’s knees buckled. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Felix! He’s here.”

Grace sighed. “Felix is an apparition, ‘Legra. Barely even a poltergeist. He has a mild presence, but there’s no way you could have actually seen him.”

“Oh yeah?” Allegra whipped her head at her, flames in her eyes. “Earlier today, I found Marinette in the hall of portraits. She said she followed a black cat through a tunnel.”

“Well- that could have been-”

“And, and just a minute ago, I heard the piano playing and singing. When I came into the closet; it was just Marinette. She thought the piano was self playing, Grace. As in, she wasn’t the one playing.”

“Felix didn’t play the piano.” Grace reminded her. “Bridge did, because-”

“Because her voice sounded like a dozen murder victims, I know.” Allegra rolled her eyes. “But it was Felix who taught her how to play. Gracie, it’s him.”

“It’s not.” Grace glared at her. “There’s no way he could be coming back so soon.”

“Fine, keep being ignorant. But I’m telling Finny, and he’ll believe me.” Allegra stormed out of the room, turning over her shoulder only once. “Oh, and it looks like Nicky has come out to play, so get ready to handle that.”

……

The rest

@merry-madness @calliopeia @drama-queen-supreme @kaydenth3gayden @mcheang @nomiegnome @never-say-donuts @vixen-uchiha @miracul0us-multishipper @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @chocolatecustarddanish @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @digitalmagpie @ilseofskadi @nerdy-and-a-little-birdy @minty-goose @nataladriana9 @aestheticnpoetic @constellation-king @animegirlweeb @persephonebutkore @ahalloweengirl @r0sebutch @marinettepotterandplagg @beelzzebop @akalovelymaybe @pleasefollowmeuwu @angelost4r @constancetruggle @speaknowtome @some-oxymoron @nerdy-scifi-birdy @purplesundaze @aestheticnpoetic @neptuningkai @2confused-2doanything @goggles-mcgee @grumpy-kitten-vixen @artemisdragona @lookatthestars1 @demonicbusiness @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @vice-artist

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml salt #ml felix #ml adrien #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #felix agreste #Felix Culpa #ml haunted mansion #haunted mansion au #yes I did use high school musical songs because I’m unorginal

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mrskurono · 4 years

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tw: somnophilia // Hinata Shoyo

tags: somnophilia (male receiving), vaginal penetration, slight dub-con if you squint

character(s): Hinata Shoyo (hq)

The night before. It had been too late and too long. That didn't stop you from making the absolute best of the sleep over with Hinata. You had both passed out at some point well after two in the morning just between movie marathons, videos of volleyball games he insisted on showing you and the amount of snacks you required just to make it as late as you did. There was no way anyone was staying up any later though. Ending with both of you passed out in his twin sized bed like a knot of limbs and blankets.

What was different from falling asleep was waking to the warmth of another body wrapped around you. It took no time at all in your groggy state to realize it was Hinata clinging to you back. Face buried in the nap of your neck with his arms tightly around under your breasts. Content but a little flushed to feel his entire body smashed up against you, it was all good until your sleepy mind realized there was something harder pressing against you.

'Is that his...?' You shifted your body back into him, nearly jumping in surprise when the tent in his boxers was in fact his morning wood rubbing against you through his boxers.

Just as you pushed back to investigate Hinata unconsciously tightened his hold around your ribs. With that a sleeping Hinata continued to rub his hips into your bottom. He was mindlessly, all be it lazily, grinding his hard on into your thigh.

Expecting to just fall back asleep. Now you were wide awake. with your own ache growing in your stomach realizing Hinata wasn't even awake during this. Perhaps it was waking him. Or the simple fact his body was acting on its own. Regardless the entire thing was sending you in a bit of a tizzy.

This isn't what you'd expected when you both past out last night. Certain it would go away, since that's what boys did right? You weren't so certain about yourself though as each ticking second it made you more curious to grind back against him just to see what would happen. Partly that but also because the knot growing in your stomach was getting worse.

'Just...one more time...that's all...' You reasoned. Hinata wasn't awake so there was no harm.

Chewing down on your bottom lip you hold your raggedly growing breath. You pushed your ass back into his pelvis wondering for a second if Hinata could even notice. But then you find yourself incredibly wrong when his hands holding you down grab at you like he was searching for something.

"Y/N...mmm, there you are-" Hinata, absolutely still asleep, had his hand on your breast without a thought. Morning mumbles barely rolling past his lips as he buried his face into your neck once again.

You froze. Certain he was awake now. You panic wondering if you should pretend to be asleep. But when Hinata didn't move again you let go of your breath. If your insides weren't twisted up before. Now with his hand cupping your breast and his cock rubbing against the crotch of your panties, this was ending being more torture for you than curiosity.

'He's really asleep...' Amazed you wondered how far you could push it at this point. Hinata's hand lazily gripping your breast. His breath on the back of your neck. And his small slender body pressed up against you was slowly becoming your undoing.

"So warm-" Hinata's dopey sleep riddled voice behind you made your body melt. And it wasn't just for the soft tickle of his breath against your ear.

You didn't even mean it until it was too late. Your hand down between your legs. Rubbing your fingertips along the moist spot in your panties. This had to be just because you were horny when you woke up. There was no way Hinata sleeping boner was doing this to you. But as your fingers moved lightly over your parts it just wasn't enough. At this rate you'd loose your mind before any relief came.

At your wits end there was no other solution. If you hesitated then you'd know you regret it. Wiggling onto slightly more onto your back, only holding your breath a moment longer to see if Hinata woke. No part of him even stirred. The persistence of his cock pressing into your thigh was all you needed to proceed.

Reaching back down to your panties this time not to play with yourself. Instead you pulled the fabric away from your soaked slit. Unable to move quick enough, you get a little more frantic as you position your hips back up against Hinata's crotch. Now the only thing between you two where his boxers.

Looking quickly beside you to see him. If Hinata could be anymore blissfully asleep you might assume he was dead. But with the tightening around your chest and the hand squeezing your breast through your thin tank top, you knew he at least wasn't dead. You felt like you were going to be if you couldn't get to the prize any quicker.

Once or twice you fumbled to really get a good grip on his length. Either your leg was in the way or something. Frustrated you finally just through your leg over his side. Spreading yourself open wide with Hinata nearly pinned under you. If he woke now then you'd just deal with that when it happened. Need was driving you to the point of insanity.

Finally.

Just when you were about to give up the only button keeping things stalled was undone. With ease you were able to finally get what you were working so desperately for. Hinata's cock. Shimmying back into his hips you lined yourself up best you could while having to glide him along your slit blind.

The inability to see didn't stop you. At a moments notice when his precum covered cock touched your folds it was like electricity shot through your body. If having just this head graze your clit felt this good. What it might feel like to have him inside you seemed other worldly.

One good deep breath was all you needed. Pressing back into him just as you angled him up and- Pop.

"...f-fuck-" You whimper even through clenched teeth. The ending to your aching was here. Hinata was inside you and without hesitation you pushed back into him just to get every last inch of his cock inside you. Like it needed you, the twitch you felt inside your clenching walls was too much already.

Feverish about it, your now free hand shot down to your clit. As swollen and sensitive as Hinata's cock had to be. You restrained from playing with your neglected bud too much for fear of ruining the goodness of it all. Wanting to start off slow only last about the three times you gyrated your hips back into him. If you didn't get off now then surely you'd loose your mind.

Quickening your pace as you rocked your hips even just a little bit more so you could feel Hinata's cock fuck you. Doing all this work didn't stop you. Panting up a storm just as you realize the hand on your breast tightened. Asleep or not you knew this had to feel good on his end. That second thought to Hinata was short lived when your orgasm approached you with furry.

With one hand occupied between your legs rubbing at your clit about ready to drive you over the edge with the accompany feeling of Hinata's cock rubbing your insides. It left only one other hand to help keep yourself quiet. Breaking the verge of no return your hand shot up to gnash your teeth on your hand to stifle what was coming.

Finally it was too late. Bucking your hips back into him one last time just as your finger swept over your clit one too many times, your legs shoot out straight with an enormous tremor wracking every muscle in you. Screaming through your teeth it doesn't even matter if Hinata wakes up at this point as bliss takes you over the edge. Too busy riding your orgasm out on his cock to realize the hand on your breast tenses. Just when the last ripples of your orgasm ride you into bliss, you gasp with the sensation of Hinata's lips on the back of your neck.

"...can I join you for round two?" His voice cooed to you from behind. Cock buried in you. With your juices dripping down your inner thighs. Now was no time to play coy as you were caught red handed. Simply smiling back at him you wiggle your bottom onto him just to see that ginger bite his lips and drown in the feeling of your tight twitching pussy around his already sensitive cock. Play your cards right and the tiny giant would make sure this morning was a good morning.

#hinata shoyo #hinata shouyou #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #hq writing #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hq smut #threethirst

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kanmom51 · 4 years

Text

JM JK timeline.- my observations how they grew over the years Part 3

Disclaimer: these are my own opinions and conclusions. Feel free to disagree, but hate or aggression will be unacceptable.

This is coming out so much longer than I anticipated, so I decided to post this in a couple of parts.

2016 was a big big year for Jikook. There is sooooo much content out there, I just can’t refer to everything. I had to pick and choose, hope I did so wisely. No Twitter, no song recommendations (they may or may not be relevant, but I decided not to go there).

2016 part 1

End of 2015 was the beginning. Both JM and JK were putting out feelers, trying not only to figure out what this thing between them was, but also how far to take it. I can only imagine they were filled with the excitement that the attraction was mutual, but there were (and sadly still are) so many obstacles to face.

What does it mean for the band? Do the others know? Do they let them know? When do they let them know? How does it affect the others? And I am sure they also faced the fears of what happens if it doesn’t work out.

I know they were young, and when you’re young you take more risks, you think things over less, but I’m sure those questions did cross their minds and did affect their relationship over the years.

So, end of 2015 was putting out the feelers, testing the waters, and 2016 was when they stepped up a gear, jumped into the water, so to say. There is a clear shift in their behaviour. We see all the changes that occurred in late 2015 and so much more. They are closer, touchier, slightly bolder.

There are the stares. JK at JM. JM at JK. Both at each other. These aren’t just one looking at another. These are just something special. You can see the attraction, the adoration in their eyes, on their faces.

2016 is the year where we also start to see the shift beyond ‘skinship’. The ‘skinship’ is still there but there is so much more. There are moments when it seems like they are afraid to touch, so we see all those little touches, light brushes, micro touches, almost touches. On the one hand they can’t keep their hands off each other, but it’s gentle, hesitant, like it’s something to hide. If this is only ‘skinship’ what is there to hide? Why the hesitance?

JK and JM were always close. But now JK lets us see it. Prior to 2015 he shied away from JM’s touches, his closeness, his forwardness, his shamelessness (as JK himself put it). From 2015 that started to change, and we see it even more in 2016. Not only doesn’t he shy away, but he also initiates this closeness. He is not afraid anymore to show just how important JM is to him, how JM is his anchor. JM is there to calm him, to sooth him when he is nervous or anxious, to be happy for him, to nudge him on to push him to do more (like speaking at award shows) and to support him and compliment him when he does.

Through the year we can also see a push and pull in the relationship. They are getting their footing within the relationship. Setting the boundaries. This is a process, and it takes time. JM is JK’s elder. What does that mean for their relationship? Does JK have to come whenever he is summoned? Does JK have to keep calling JM hyang? JK starts being defiant. Sometimes calling JM without the honorifics. There are times that it bothers JM, but sometimes he loves it. They are working into a relationship – are they on equal grounds? This is something they are working through.

2016 is the year JK comes of age. A most significant right of passage in SK culture.

This is a year that gives oh so much Jikook content. The fan meets, the behind the scenes clips, the music awards. This is the year of BV1, several most conspicuous Vlives, including the Osaka Vlive and the famous Hobi Vlive. This is also when we got the notorious ‘Own it’ dance practice. There’s the famous “Manila Fight” – most definitely not something I am going to touch upon. Maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t. Maybe there was friction, maybe there wasn’t. I, for one, don’t feel like I have enough content to base a conclusion on.

2016 was a substantial year for the two. I’m aware that there is so much content out there, so I’ll only be touching the iceberg here:

Sapporo snow festival 7 Feb 2016 – JK joins JM in front of the camera – sending kisses to the camera but then leaning in towards JM. Did he give him a kiss? JM’s surprised reaction though...

7 May 2016 Vlive – JK an JM being all flirty.

12 May 2016 fan sign – JK trying to put a flower crown on JM’s head. The two in their own world, playing a game, JM lifting JK up in the air, stabilizing JK with his hand and making sure he doesn’t fall. Again, they are close, they are in their own world, doing ‘them’, no matter where they are. This is the same fan sign JM tells JK that he is sitting in the wrong place, and his place is next to him.

Moments in BV 1 –May 2016.

JK sleeps in lounge room on sofa with JM, instead of on a bed with Suga. JK fell asleep, and JM sets him up with a pillow and covers him up.

JK’s coming of age day Vlive.

The famous JK JM discussion about men checking out their selfies (we can see how JK is still struggling with his ideas or conception of what is appropriate, ‘right’ behaviour for a ‘man’).

JK’s “he’s driving me nuts” over JM lagging behind (Hobi’s reaction to JK’s rant is priceless), but still stops to wait for him all the time.

The hand wrestling (JM losing every single time, and JM ignoring poor Jin when he offers to hand wrestle with him – was it really hand wrestling or hand holding?).

JM misplacing his phone, and JK backing out of going all ‘hidden camera’ on JM, showing him he has the phone the minute he sees him.

JK’s “I will sleep here with Jimin” in the camper. JM playing footsies with JK’s crotch (JM playing footsies seems to be a reoccurring theme).

JM feeding his Kookie (So, what’s new?).

JK’s coming of age performance. This is a big one for me. It’s JK’s song choice and him asking JM to do it with him. The song JK chose to dance to is Park Ji Yoon’s Adult ceremony:

Hey you, why are you hesitating? I know you want me

Right now in front of you, I know what you want,

What you’re waiting for, just come here

I’m not that little girl,

You used to know anymore,

I’m a woman now

I’m thankful that you’ve waited for me

Now I’ll become a woman at your kiss

I’m not a little girl anymore

Don’t hesitate any longer

As much as you waited, I’ve waited for this day too

Give me twenty stems of roses, so I can feel your love

As I wait for you, I close my eyes

Hey you, I want to give you permission to give me your love

Teach me how love is so sweet and fragrant

It was hard looking at you suffering and waiting

My heart even hurt

But now came the day

where there is no reason

to wait anymore

I’m not a little girl anymore

Don’t hesitate any longer

As much as you waited, I’ve waited for this day too

Give me twenty stems of roses, so I can feel your love

As I wait for you, I close my eyes

https://lyricstranslate.com

The song’s message is clear. Is it a coincidence JK chose JM to dance this with him? I don’t think so. The Bangtan Bomb (21 Sep 2016) with their practice - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4oIpsRemPA .

You can tell JM knows exactly how this looks like being all shy and flustered during the rehearsals. The members reactions during the dress rehearsal also are pretty telling. Who is JK sending this message to? JM? Us?

13 July 2016 JM and Jin reacting to Minwoo & JK’s celebrity bromance. JM taking it a bit far there, expressing his jealousy and how JK doesn’t treat him the same, saying he has no feeling for him. Seriously JM? I kind of wonder here whether JM is trying to down play what’s going on between the two, or if he is genuinely jealous, maybe because he feels that JK is holding himself back with him, especially in front of the cameras or around others. We do hear later in the year JM’s frustration that JK doesn’t say he loves him (Jin eats Vlive).

OK, now for the famous suspicious as Vlives. I will tackle them just a little bit. I am not going to analyse them, there has been plenty of that going around. I do, though, want to talk about them just a bit.

As far as I am concerned, both Vlives don’t prove the relationship between the boys. They most definitely are very suspicious though.

The Osaka Vlive -12 July 2016, when Tae surprises JK in his hotel room - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjjAbQLXrEM . JK is undressed, lights are dimmed, he has loud sultry music playing, makeup is smudged, he’s acting pretty suspicious as a whole. I think that reaching a conclusion that JK has someone in the room with him is not far fetched. Someone he obviously doesn’t want the camera to see. Is it JM? We really can’t know. I have seen analyses that hear him calling out JM’s name when Tae’s at the door, or pointing out JM’s phone or clothes and shoes are in the room. To me that is outright speculation. But I do believe someone was there, someone JK didn’t want to show up on camera.

A question I ask myself, though, if it wasn’t JM in the room, is why JM is obviously pissed at Tae the next day, when during his Vlive, he repeats several times not to let Tae into the room for the live? Is it connected? That’s for them to know, and us to probably never find out.

Then there is Hobi’s Vlive, 13 Aug 2016. Hobi starts his live, saying how hungry . This is an important piece of information to remember for later on. He goes to JM’s room. It takes time for JM to open the door, Hobi finally pushing himself in, saying how he is going to show off JM’s room. Only thing is that they stand at the entrance, then walk slowly into the room, not turning the camera away from their faces, all the while Hobi looking worryingly into the room. It seemed like he was looking at something inside the room.

The camera is turned into the room, avoiding certain areas. They come into the room to discover an enormous amount of food, and JM explains that he is starving and that’s why he ordered so much. When Hobi entered the room he asks JM what he was doing, and he answered that he was boiling water for ramen. So he was going to eat all that food and ramen by himself? They converse, and then V comes. At some point V takes JM’s ramen, after JM stated it was his manager’s (is this the same manager JM checks out during his future live?), and leaves the room. Then Hobi says he’ll go and leave the camera with JM.

The question I ask is, why did Hobi, who was really hungry, leave JM’s room when JM, obviously, had enough food for two? We saw JM eat later, and he most definitely didn’t finish all the food he ordered by himself. Then, before Hobi leaves JM with the Vlive camera, he goes to the bed, where JM is lying, and starts teasing him being all handsy with him and going: “Oh Jimin, oh jimin” – what was that about?

JM is left alone, also managing the camera, not showing the whole room. The whole time he is acting funny, grinning to what looks like someone off camera, seems like he talks to something/someone off camera, the whole vibe is that he isn’t alone in the room. But the definitive proof that there was someone in the room with him was when at some point the camera is facing JM, who is sitting next to the tv. Then, something happens.

Is it a ghost? Is it a plain? No, it’s super JK… But seriously, there was someone in the room, someone who’s reflection we got to see in the tv.

To sum it up, here too JM is not alone in the room. Is it JK? That we don’t know for sure. Suspicions are high, but that’s what they are - suspicions. He does, at some point talk about inviting other members to join him (why didn’t he ask Hobi to stay and eat with him?????), and gives a pretty lame explanation as to why he isn’t calling JK to join (stating that he doesn’t listen to him anymore. Again with this JM?).

A question I ask myself is why is it always those two that seem to have someone hiding in their room during the lives????

14 Aug 2016 upload of ‘Own it’ dance practice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMprwPSFLyU .

This is private dance practice, just JM and JK, at what looks like late at night, lights dimmed, to a highly explicit song. It’s filmed by them, as we can see them cutting and returning to the camera from time to time. During the dance JM clearly has an erection. He is aware of it, looks down at it, points it out to JK, and at some point changes his shirt to cover it up. They don’t stop dancing. They don’t stop recording. They are clearly having a good time.

This clip is uploaded to BangtanTV in 2016 and is still there. I can reassure you that both JM and JK are aware of what is seen in this clip, and still this clip was uploaded, and is still online. It’s more the atmosphere (alone, dimmed lighting) and the choice of song to dance to that indicates the high level of intimacy and the feeling is that this is just something ‘more’.

To be continued...

#jm #jk #jimin #Jungkook #jikook are real #kookmin #jikook #love and support jungkook #love and support jimin #love and support jikook #love and support kookmin #jikook timeline #jimin and jungkook love each other #vlive

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

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The Last Chthonian

Part 17

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

A/N: It is here! So sorry for the late update lovelies! I’ve been having really bad writers block lately and my job keeps switching my hours up so now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. And after writing this part I want to go stargazing so bad but the light pollution kind of sucks where I live. 🥲 Also this is my first time writing a steamy scene so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. Feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 😊

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appears at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, angst, some foreplay and making out

You had still been wrapped in Zemo’s arms, the two of you indulging in each other’s presence in a silence, which combined with the faint beating of his heart, you only found to be comforting. The meteors still swept by the earth’s atmosphere above you in flashes that lit up the sky, leaving behind trails of white that resembled the strokes of a brush, as if your mother Asteria had painted the celestial bodies using diamonds onto a canvas that was the night sky. You could only make out the few stars and constellations that were scarcely scattered across the vastness above you, caused by the light pollution that unfortunately managed to mantle the wonders and beauty that settled just beyond, separating humanity from the marvels of the universe. The stars flickered like the diminishing of the flame of a candle, a farewell to the billions of years lived by the remnants of those enormous spheres of hot plasma, thus leaving behind the birth of other stars to fulfill their legacy. However, there was a certain star that did not flicker like the ones around it, a certain spectacle distant in time and space that still managed to burn bright despite the innumerable amount of light-years that separated Earth from it. The remaining light of your planet Olympus. You stared at that particular star, your brows knit together and your face etched with this certain melancholy that one could not explain. How could one thing be so near, within the reach of your fingertips, and yet be entirely outside the capacity of reach.

“Draga.” You heard Zemo softly speak, his chest slightly wavering beneath your cheek from his words.

“Hm?”

“Something troubles you.”

“What makes you say that?” You stared off, your eyes still fixated to the fading existence of your world.

“Your eyes draga.” Zemo looked down at you, his eyes scanning over the troubled creases that masked your features. “I have seen this shadow in your eyes that has seemed to occupy them as of recently. What troubles you?”

“…………You see that star there, right between those two constellations?” You pointed above you.

“Mhm.” Zemo nodded as he followed the line of your finger, his eyes now focused on the same exact star yours have not yet left.

“That’s my planet………Olympus.”

“You’re welcome to tell me about it if you’d like.”

“Well, when I was little, I used to live with my mother in this quaint cottage by the sea, similar to the one I live in now with my daughter. She used to bring me out most nights for stargazing. She had built this outdoor platform with bedding and blankets and we would have a small fire going to keep us warm as we watched the stars and constellations while she told me different tales and epic poetries. As silly as it sounds, she would make shooting stars appear in the sky for me knowing how much I loved them. Gods, I wish you could’ve seen my home back in its days, back when everything still remained. Everything was so…..beautiful, and the skies, gods the skies, you could see the different planets and galaxies as if they were only miles away. To this day, I have yet to see anything in my travels that compares.”

“I would have loved to seen it Schatzi. Your mother sounded like a wonderful person.”

“She was the kindest soul I knew.” You turned your body so that you could look up at him, resting your chin on your hand.

“You miss her.”

“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my family and planet.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to them Schatzi. I wish you never went through what you did.”

“If only I could bring them back. I’d do anything to be able to just see them again.”

Zemo was silent, believing that no amount of words could have provided you comfort, no matter how deep the meaning or how significant. He could not imagine what you went through. He had lost his country and his family, and you had lost your family as well, but you lost your world, your entire race, leaving you to be the last remaining entity of your people, the last Olympian and the last Chthonian. Words could not bring your family back, just as they could not with his. So he only did what he was able, making a silent unspoken promise within the abyss of his damaged heart to be there for you as he held you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A sudden feeling of guilt crawled up your spine like a venomous scorpion ready to sink its stinger in your skin with means to cause nothing but pain and suffering. You felt guilty for being here, lying next to Zemo wrapped in his arms like a pair of star-crossed lovers from the pages of a novel. A part of you felt selfish for what you did, undeserving of the affection that was bestowed upon you from a man who had suffered enough from the loss of his family. How much longer did you think you could give in to your mindless emotions without a single thought of the consequences it might bring about. Did you really think you could go on as if nothing is happening? As if you can conceal your true form from him forever. No. You could not. You did not have the heart to keep such knowledge from him. If you wanted to pursue what you had with him, you would have to tell him the truth when the time came.

“We should probably get back before Sam and Bucky notice.” You mumbled, blinking back the tears, your heart aching to go back to the way things used to be, wishing you could leave all of this and just be able to go back home. You didn’t belong here on earth, an immortal amongst mortals. At least on Olympus, if your titaness form had been revealed, many would not have bat an eye. They had already seen the likes of Titans before and the locals had become accustomed to you. But here on earth, you were nothing but a stranger, a drifter.

The two of you walked back to his place in silence, the only sounds being the whistling of the wind, the chirping of crickets, the voices of the few pedestrians and the humming of the cars that drove by. Your hands brushed against each other, craving to intertwine your fingers with his as you walked down the stone paved streets lit by the lamps that lined it, the two of you still withdrawn despite what occurred between you both. You felt it would have been silly, holding his hand like a couple of teenagers, though a century ago, you wouldn’t have gave it a second thought.

You arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the steps in front of the double doors with Zemo opposite you, illuminated by the street lamp that stood just behind. Feelings of conflict washed over you, drowning you in waves of despair. As much as you wanted to be with him, a small part in the back of your mind kept telling you that it was wrong. Neither of you wanted to go through those doors just yet, wishing you could have spent the night under the stars. But life seems to have a way of working against your favor. The Wakandans would be here to collect him possibly tomorrow, and you would have to bid him farewell, separated from each other for what could be forever. As much as you did not look forward to that moment in having to turn him in and never see him again, you wouldn’t stop the Wakandans from what they were promised. And though you hadn’t said a word, Zemo had already knew what your decisions were regarding it, and he could not blame you for it. You were a woman of justice and you followed a code, and he respected that.

“Zemo.” A frown appeared on your face.

“Please,” Zemo whispered to you as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Call me Helmut.”

You looked at Zemo once more, a look of longing hidden behind your eyes as you unconsciously swiped your tongue across your mouth, watching how his eyes followed the movement before lingering on the wetness of your lips that resembled the petals of a rose after the pouring of cold rain in the midst of spring. Oh how he wished to be the drops of rain that were gifted the pleasure of grazing upon the velvety petals that belonged to such beauty of a flower, a symbol of union between the two domains in which the heavens came down to declare its love for the earth. A pulling sensation filled within your core, drawing yourself to Zemo as if he were the sweet berries of deadly nightshade that have lured many unfortunate souls. Banishing the thoughts of doubt that clouded your mind, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Zemo was initially shocked by your bold gesture and stiffened from the way your mouth moved against his, surprised you would pull something like this when just a wall away Sam and Bucky were awaiting your arrival, before loosing himself into your embrace.

Your fingers clenched the collar of his sweater and your fingers grazed across the exposed skin of his neck while his hands went to your waist in a desperate attempt, fumbling to grab at anything and bunching up the bottom fabric of your sweater as he pulled you against him. The tips of his fingers brushed against the skin of your waist that was exposed below the hem of your sweater, leaving behind goosebumps in its trail. You smiled into the kiss from the way he completely melted under your touch, a part of you amused from the affect you held over him as you managed to elicit a moan from deep within his throat. Zemo’s brows were furrowed in the passionate moment, something you have noticed when you first kissed him, a small crease in the muscles of his face that showed just how lost he was when encased in this moment with you, and it absolutely melted you. He was addicted from the warm numbness, the ecstasy he felt from kissing you. Your lips were like heroin to him, leaving him yearning for more, and it didn’t ameliorate the fact that his years spent in a German prison had left him somewhat inexperienced and filled with a chasmic longing for touch and intimacy from the lack thereof. Deep within him, masked by his ideas and objectives, Zemo wanted to be able to love someone again, a chance at a new life and a family, and perhaps, he saw that possibility with you. But, behind the passion of the kiss you shared with him, there was something else, a poison that laced your lips with feelings of despair and forbidding that consumed you as if you had tasted those sweet berries of nightshade, slowly loosing yourself to its malice. His lips which were at first warm to the touch, now felt cold like ice and sent shivers of dread through your veins, as if this would be the last kiss you shared with him.

You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, your teeth softly grazing against his bottom lip as you did so. Both of you were left breathless as you rested your foreheads against each other, panting as your breaths fanned each other’s face as if you had just been trapped in the depths of the ocean before breaking through the surface to allow oxygen to fill your lungs.

“If you keep doing that Draga.” Zemo rasped between breaths, “I won’t be able to compose myself.”

“Good. Maybe I don’t want you too.” You smirked before placing a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I really should go back inside, and you should do the same. Just make sure you go unnoticed.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders, his cologne that lingered on his fur collar leaving your senses with discontent as you returned his coat to him before going over to the doors, stopping to turn back to him with a smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Gods, what the hell did you do that for???? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you wanted to slap yourself for pulling a move like that.

“Gods I’m stupid.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled once he spotted you, his voice soft as if he were afraid you would shatter at any moment from the discussion that took place earlier. “How was your walk?”

“It was nice, relaxing. I went to the park to stargaze.”

“That’s good. As long as you feel better.”

“I do, actually. Thanks Bucky.”

“You look flushed. You okay?” Sam noted as he stepped over to you.

“Huh?” You stopped short. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just had to kind of uh power walk back here so you guys wouldn’t get worried. But I’m fine, yeah. Anyways, I’m going to hit the sack since I’m feeling a bit tired. Goodnight you guys.” You waved them off before going to your assigned room, making Sam and Bucky give each other questioning looks before they both shrugged it off.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a breath of relief that they had not caught on to anything and praying that Zemo had managed to sneak in. You had just gotten off the phone with Maze and your daughter, catching up on their activities after cleaning yourself up and changing into your nightgown. You had pulled up a chair next to the window that was in your room, your feet tucked underneath you and a warm cup of rose and blackberry tea in your hands. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders as your index finger twirled above the small silver spoon that swirled in your cup, mists of violet wrapping around the handle of the spoon as you used your powers to stir the contents of the tea. You stared out the window onto the old streets of Latvia before glancing down at the teacup that was nestled in your hands, the glow of your eyes reflected off the window pane along with the tiny stars that swirled through the small globe of your necklace your mother gave you. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the moments that passed and the ones that have yet to come.

There was a knock on your door, interrupting you from the thoughts that had resided in your mind. “Come in.” You spoke as you looked through the reflection of the window and saw a figure step in. “Zemo?” You stopped using your powers, the clinking of the spoon scraping against the sides of the porcelain cup coming to a stop. “You know, you gotta stop sneaking into my room.” You teased before frowning, seeing the expression that sat on his face. “What’s wrong?” You got up from the chair, setting your cup down on the table before walking over to him.

“The Wakandans will…….be here for me tomorrow.” His eyes were lowered to the floor, the browns of his irises which reminded you of the dunes of the Sahara desert were whirling in thought, resembling the dunes caught in the midst of the fury of a sandstorm, as if searching for an answer to his troubles.

“Ze-Helmut, I………” You sighed, your tongue and mind lacking the ability to compose any words that might have provided some solace. “I’m sorry………..I don’t know what to say.”

“Y/n, schatzi” Zemo grabbed your hand, tracing his thumb over the bumps of your knuckles. “You don’t have to say a word. My actions………must be accounted for.”

You were silent, your brows knit together and your lips sealed as if your voice was ripped from your throat. Your heart wanted to tear itself from your chest, begging to be released from its cage so that it could be free to lament, so that it may be able to express the words that held it captive. But your tongue was tied, held back between the prison that was your teeth as you clenched your jaw. Zemo’s hand still held yours, stroking the soft skin on the back of your hand which were a contrast to the small rough patches on your palm, before you heard him speak again. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise that he would even ask such a question when you were honestly willing to kiss him any time of the day. The Zemo you had come to know was far different than the one you had heard about, his cold demeanor seemed to completely fade when he was around you, like a fog that dissipated with the coming of daylight. A part of you pondered whether this was how he used to be, before the events that happened. Though he hadn’t had a chance to share such affection with anyone and lost practice, you still found him to be great kisser and it always managed to leave you breathless. “Yes, please.” You whispered, your voice barely audible before you felt his lips brush against yours. What was sweet at first became more feverish and filled with hunger as an unfamiliar spirit seemed to possess your body, darkening the amethysts and golds of your eyes that resembled the galaxies, into the blackness of the abyss that swallowed the outer edges of space where not even the slightest bit of light could reach, almost as if you were sinking your claws into your prey.

A heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filling your body with an electrifying warmth as his mouth moved against yours more confidently this time, catching you utterly by surprise and leaving your knees weak, a feeling similar to the stillness in the air a mere second before lightning strikes the ground beneath your feet. His hands slipped down to grab the flesh of your waist, dehydrated, and filled with an intense thirst that could only be quenched by your body that was the ocean, your skin separated by the silk fabric of your nightgown. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as a gasp escaped your lips upon feeling him move down to your jaw and neck. Gods, since when was the last time you were touched like that?

“Helmut.” You rasped, struggling to hold back a moan as his lips sucked on the skin where your collarbone met your neck, making you lean your head back to allow him better access. Your robe had fell to the floor, leaving your arms completely bare while Zemo’s hands caressed the skin that lined them before resting on the dorsal part of your upper arms, the combination of the frigid air and his fingertips that felt like the touch of fire sending shivers through your body. “What if they hear?”

“Let them.”

“No……….I’m…….serious.”

“Well if you’re that worried Draga.” Zemo stopped to look at you. “The walls are thick enough.”

Gods that completely sent you over the edge. It felt as if you were on a high, your mind was not even within this dimension as Zemo met your lips again. You had to throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from collapsing as the two of you shifted in the room, Zemo guiding your body before the back of your knees came in contact with the side of your bed. You let yourself fall back into the soft mattress, bringing Zemo down with you. You both were a mess, your hair disarray, the thin straps of your nightgown fallen past your shoulders had almost left your breasts exposed, and the skirt of your nightgown had ridden up to your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Zemo squeezed at the soft flesh of your thigh before attacking your neck again. He didn’t know how to describe it but you tasted absolutely divine. Perhaps being a goddess made you taste of ambrosia; the golden, honey-flavored fruit that grew on the trees of Olympus. You were in absolute bliss and thanked the gods he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark, at least you hoped not.

“Helmut.” You moaned, your nails digging into his biceps as his warm lips made a trail down your collarbone and lower to where the lace trim of your nightgown met just above the curve of your breasts, lingering on the space between, filling your mind with thoughts of a certain region you desired those lips to be. “Fuck.” You hissed from the contact, your hand moving its way to his head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your nails raking across the back of his scalp as the heat between your thighs only grew. You unconsciously pressed your heel to the lower part of his back, beckoning him closer to that heat between your thighs as you bucked your hips up. Zemo growled at the movement, slightly nipping at the skin where your breast had started to form, causing you to gasp and your eyes to fly open from the sensation.

“Apologies draga.” You heard him mutter before tenderly kissing the spot where his teeth had been.

Seeing Zemo in a close proximity above you in such a position had you dazed, wanting him to take you right then and there and not caring if the others heard you or not. And as your eyes wandered lazily over the sight of him, they widened in horror once they glimpsed at the image of your hands. Your nails became sharp, claw-like, and that deathly color had returned once again, slowly making its way up your arm like the tendrils of a shadow belonging to a demonic spirit.

“Helmut.” You whispered, your voice becoming panicked as you loosened your grip on his arms, being careful not to pierce his skin. “Helmut wait.”

Zemo stopped, pushing himself up to meet your eyes as his concern grew from seeing the frightened look that filled them. “Schatzi, what’s wrong?” He brought his hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair. “If you’re uncomfortable let me know.”

“No, gods no. If anything I don’t want you to stop.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just that………….”

“What is it schatzi?” His voice was soft as his fingers caressed your cheek, afraid that he might have offended you in some way, afraid that he might have been too forward.

“I’m sorry Helmut. I want to, I really do, but not like this.” You shook your head as you got up, shifting over to where the dark shadows of the room fell on the bed to hide your arms, afraid to meet his eyes as if you had made a fool of yourself. “Not like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me y/n.” Zemo smiled at you. “If you’re not ready, than I’m not ready.”

“Thank you Helmut.” You smiled back before giving him a delicate kiss. “I’d………uh like to think some things through.” You prayed that he didn’t see your hands, hoping that the darkness of the room managed to disguise it.

“Of course draga.” Zemo placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving your room, stopping at the door to give you a comforting smile as he carefully shut it behind him.

Your eyes still lingered on the door, waiting to make sure he didn’t come back before turning on the bedside lamp and staring down at your hands. You had managed to stop the color from spreading up your arm, yet it strangely still remained, stopping halfway up your forearm. This wasn’t good.

“What the hell?” You scrunched your nose, trying to use your powers once again to remove it but to no avail. Fear coursed through your veins as you attempted to remove the color, spell after spell, hoping those vine like tendrils would crawl back down your hands and disappear. You cursed under your breath as each attempt proved to be as futile as the one before. What the hell was going on? Why were your spells not working? It vanished before from your magic, why wasn’t it doing so now? You were struck with a sudden realization that perhaps this change would become permanent, that maybe suppressing your true form for all those years had caused it to spiral out of control and in turn try to overpower you as if it had a mind of its own. You growled through gritted teeth, the furniture around you shaking as your fists were clenched in frustration, the violet mists of your powers encompassing your hands and sparking with small bolts that corresponded with the vexation that overwhelmed you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the mist around your hands disappearing and the shaking of the furniture coming to a stop. You had to work something out. You were left no choice but to keep your hands covered from now on until you found a solution. If any of them questioned it, you had to have a damn good lie. Getting up from the bed, you walked over to the double doors that led to the small balcony and opened them, your hands gripping the cold iron rail as you stared out at the view of the Latvian streets and buildings before you. Oh how you wished your sister Athena were here. She knew everything.

“Oh Athena.” You stifled a sob as you stared up at the stars, focusing on the light of your planet as if she could have heard you, a tear cascading down your cheek and dropping to the streets below. “Gods I wish you were here. I really need your help.”

Despite your pleas, you knew she wasn’t there, her existence only an artifact of the past. You were praying to nothing but a memory. It was extremely urgent that you got information on this matter of your form and the words of the prophecy that still threatened and echoed within the depths of your mind. And since you couldn’t obtain such knowledge from another Olympian, you would have to gather it from the old texts. Muttering a few words in Ancient Greek, you waited, searching, until a small white moth came into view, fluttering in your direction. You held out your finger, letting the tiny creature come to rest upon it.

“Hello little one.” You smiled at the moth as you gently stroked it in greeting, bringing it closer to your face so that you could speak to it in your language. “Please send word to my familiar and tell him to gather as much information he can on Titans and the prophecy. And tell him to come find me when he is done. Thank you.” The moth looked at you with understanding behind his tiny black eyes, it’s antennaes twitching before fluttering away into the moon. You sighed, watching it disappear into the night before giving your distant planet one last glance before shutting the doors and going back over to the bed. You laid down under the covers, your hands rested on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, dreading the day to come. How could you face Zemo? And however were you going to keep your hands a secret? Surely the three are bound to find out sooner or later? You just prayed that the message you sent would be returned in a short time. You needed to fix this before it would be considered too late. And the sooner you found Karli the better. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest and forcing those thoughts away. Gods help you from this moment on.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thehornyles @awhorewithissues @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @Gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail @pollynx @aziraslowlylosestheirshit @roundbrownlover @awesomeowlbook @bookloverfilmoholic @hargreevesd @death-is-beautiful @ilovespideyyy @peakyrogers

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kannra21 · 3 years

Text

Sniperhaul fanfic

ˡᵐᵃᵒ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡᶦᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦ'ᵐ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ

Overhoe finally broke out of Tartarus after a very long time. However, he couldn't have done it without the help of a certain villain mistress. 😏 Who's she and why did she choose to help this terrible (x2) man? Find out bellow.

characters: overhaul (chisaki kai) x sniper lady

word count: 3k

warnings: angst, past memories, handless overhaul, hurt, comfort, gangs, yakuza, just girl taking care of her mans

notes: I'd like to thank the person responsible for proofreading this work bc I'm supposed to keep their identity a secret. 😎 Thank you once again! And of course, the manga and characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi. @meefal you were excited to see the final product so here you go, hope you like it. 🖤

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Overhaul couldn't remember how long he'd been there, he'd lost count weeks ago. The only thing he knew was that he was in "Tartarus", a prison located 5km off the coast of the Mainland. It may function like a conventional prison, but in reality, those who're deemed a severe threat toward the safety of the nation were locked up and monitored closely, regardless of whether their sentence has been decided on yet. The facility was divided into 6 levels, where the potential threat level of criminals was deemed "higher" the further underground you go. It's a prison where, once you enter, there's no chance of leaving.

He sat there in his cell, B10 being the lowest level in solitary confinement. It was too cold for his head to function and too dark for his eyes to see, with the small window above the prison doors being his only source of light. There was also an opening where prisoners received their meals, but considering that he lost his hands, the guards could easily enter without worrying too much for their well-being. They'd leave whatever they offered that day and give him a disgusted look before locking the doors after themselves. He couldn't see his reflection nor touch his face, he probably looked like crap by now. His skin was itching and he felt disoriented from all the germs occupying this space, it's been a while since he's gone out for some fresh air.

He was practically Quirkless and yet they locked him out in the worst, most dreadful place the isolation block had to offer. He couldn't even feed himself properly, he couldn't do anything by himself whatsoever. But there was only one thing left to him; he spent days and days thinking about pops, Chrono, yakuza and everything he could have if it weren't for those stupid heroes-- no, if it weren't for his plan that so grandiosely failed. It made him feel miserable, desperate even, and with grief soon followed acceptance. It was all his fault, and he needed to live with this burden for the rest of his life. Because of him, pops is still handicapped to the bed somewhere, wherever the heroes might have taken him.

He stood up and started beating the cell with his leg, curing his frustrations. He didn't know why he was doing it, it was irrational and he's hurting himself unnecessarily, but for some reason it made him feel lighter. At least he could transfer some of his inner pain to the outside world. Other criminals laughed at his patheticness, especially since they knew why the guards were allowed to enter his cell. They shouted that it was impossible to escape, but he wasn't trying to. He knew that it was useless a long time ago.

Midnight came and all the prisoners mostly fell asleep. Overhaul, however, couldn't sleep a wink. Because of the dark room he spent most of his days in, he lost his sense of time so he was pacing around, deep in thought. He couldn't dream of anything nice anyways.

"Can't fall asleep either?" a feminine voice could be heard from the other side. Wait. They allowed women here? What could she have possibly done to deserve such punishment?

He leaned his back on the doors and slid down to the floor, trying to find the right words.

"Yes." he sighed, enthusiasm lacking in his voice "But it's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

"Hm, whatever. Go beat your head against the bars. Fall unconscious, loser."

The man snorted, which might as well be his first time he ever did that.

"Well, this certainly sounds effective. It's not like I have anything to lose anyways."

"Hey." the tone of her voice was earnest, and it aroused further questions in his jumbled up head.

"What?"

"We're going to get out of here."

Is she being serious now? "Really? Because as far as I know, we're locked out here for good. We don't even know the severity of our sentences. They can do whatever they want with us."

"Not quite. You know that they're being supervised by 'The Hearts and Mind' party offshoots. They can’t do a thing to us as long as they have their heads to the pikes."

This might be true, but he didn't believe in anything the government's been telling them lately. It's only a matter of time before they switch their plans and play by their own rules, because stabbing people in the back was the only thing they've ever been good at.

"How did you end up here?"

Oh the long-awaited question. She wondered when he'd ask.

"It's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

He smiled, he liked this vicious side of hers. But he also realized that she could be nice as well because if that wasn't the case, she wouldn't spread promises of the escape. At least that's what he thought.

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay. We've all been here for a very long time, now weren't we? We lose our cool and act like total assholes."

"Direct and straight to the point I see." his deadpan voice could be heard from the other side of the bars.

"'Been raised this way, for the better or worse." it didn't sound like she was bragging, yet it felt like she was just talking about herself, honest and confident, to cover up what she felt was wrong. The incoming topic which she'd rather avoid.

The villainess didn't want to open up about her past, so she just answered his question.

"I killed people beyond counting, following AFO's orders. He always wished to become the world's greatest demon lord and thus promised us enormous change in the hero society. So in order to achieve that, he needed his underlings. And that's how I ended up here."

"You were loyal till the end."

"You know what they say; there can be no progress nor achievement without certain sacrifice."

Wise beyond her years and just as sad. He wondered how her face looked like, how the world's been treating her.

"I had my own sacrifices as well."

"Do you regret them?"

...

"I do."

Now it was her turn to snort "Really? And I thought that people situated this low couldn't have regrets. You remember what they said about us. 'Beasts in human clothing', 'Simply dreadful beings'."

He felt insulted, maybe the things she said were true but it's not like he was anything similar to these pigs he shared the same air with, unfortunately.

"I regret hurting the person important to me. The old man who once took me in when I was very young. He was the infamous boss of Shie Hassaikai."

Something clicked in her, it's such a small world they're living in, "Yakuza? I know you guys. We used to trade with you back in the days."

"Todou Gang?"

"You said it."

"But... you were a force to be reckoned with. One day you just collapsed and not a single trace could be found. According to certain sources, there was no way anyone could determine the exact cause of your downfall. So what happened?"

"I killed them all."

...

"AFO told me to kill them to prove my loyalty to him and, of course, to make sure that there was no one I could turn to other than himself."

For some questionable reasons, and he didn't dare to admit that it was empathy he felt towards a random stranger and a former gang member he shared some history with, Overhaul wanted to fill the silence that lingered between them. Perhaps, because he felt guilty for making her reveal more than what she initially intended.

"I used pops' niece, a 6-year-old girl who had an extraordinary Quirk; it allowed her to rewind a person's body back to a certain state. That means she could put a body back to before it was injured or before the person even developed a Quirk. With that, I wanted to create a Quirk-erasing drug to get rid of the Quirk society altogether and to make sure that yakuza could rise once again. I cut her skin every day to take blood samples and to test her regenerative abilities. However, pops didn't approve of it, so I handicapped him to the bed and planned on waking him up the moment I realized my plan, to make him proud of the achievement. Unfortunately, it didn't play out as I wanted and I never reached him."

The silence followed and the woman wore a disheartening smile on her face. It's not the answer she expected, she didn't ask for another sad story from another messed up person she's met in her life. But the intentions were pure and for her, it was good enough.

"We both fought for something only to lose it all, huh?" she laughed, but it was prominent in her tone that it was bittersweet.

"At least you're brought here in one piece."

"At least you can still revive your parent."

Were they comforting each other? Were they jealous of each other? Were they wallowing in self-pity? They couldn't tell. The only thing they certainly could was the embarrassment they felt from the moment they realized that some of the prisoners were eavesdropping and making fun of their vulnerabilities. See? That's what they hated the most about opening up about themselves; they were worried about their feelings being perceived as a joke. The only way to protect themselves was to rise up the walls and never let anyone get closer, except they didn't regret exchanging a word or two, as long as it was the two of them.

The next day, 8:34PM Mainland-side entrance, the guardians of 'The Bronze Gate' announced a code red security lockdown. Panic and shouting could be heard from across the hall and the security alarm announced the potential danger.

"Close any and all passageways on each floor. All workers are to enforce strict measures to maintain order."

"The surveillance system is down! It seems like we've been hit by some sort of EMP attack!"

Static waves were spreading around the metal frames and the prison doors of the isolation block unlocked. Overhaul could hear the commotion outside and the villains leaving their cells in a hurry, but as much as he tried, he couldn't push the heavy doors open.

"3 seconds until we're back online- wait... What the... With the system down we can't monitor the inside!"

"Nice, 3 seconds be damned." he beat the door with his legs, pushed the surface with his shoulders, leaned all of his weight on the godforsaken thing just so it could finally open. Nothing. It seems like he lost a couple of pounds during his stay here. He couldn't believe his eyes, this couldn't be happening to him. After all this time of patient waiting and hoping to meet pops once again, it turns out he'd be the only one still trapped and all because he didn't have any hands. He panicked, he really couldn't decide on what to do next. But then he remembered-

"Go beat your head against the bars, loser."

That's it! This might be his only chance to escape! He didn't have much time left though, he could hear the shooting nearby so he definitely needed to hurry.

"The system won't come back on!! The ones in solitary confinement are breaking out!! Inside!"

"Control unit's on site!! Execute lockdown in the isolation block!"

"Follow procedure! If even one of them steps a foot outside their cell-"

"Fire!! Open fire!!"

Muscular threw whatever he could find in this messed up place back at them, excitement prominent in his big smile "You ain't gonna kill me with those puny toys! So how about you show me the exit already?!"

Other villains were joining him, still overwhelmed by the sudden freedom they've been given "Dammit... After all that time..."

"Meat..." Moonfish mumbled as he cut his opponents with his blade-like teeth.

The villain lady joined them in the run, still carefully examining her surroundings in case they were tricked into something, "The system isn't responding to my Quirk. 'Guess Tartarus really is falling."

As she was running down the corridor, she could hear beating noises coming from one of the doors. It sounded dull so the person must have been using their head.

"Eh, don't tell me the idiot actually listened to my advice. He must be desperate."

She came to the doors and turned the circular lock in a hurry. She really didn't want to stay in this place any longer, but she couldn't leave him behind either. It's not like she could use him for anything since he was basically handless and Quirkless so why was she doing it? She didn't have an answer. Maybe it was their talk from the other day, maybe because they were both gang members with a history, maybe because of her regrets and her wish to do something right for once. Or maybe because she was just this kind. Nah, this couldn't be it, she never did anything in her life that didn't require a certain purpose. She cast her heart aside a long time ago and did what was necessary for the accomplishment of the mission. It would be weird if she suddenly started using her heart again, now wouldn't it? She was AFO's personal assassin, there was simply no way.

He came out of the room with eyes wide in puzzlement. He was finally free and ready to find pops so he could possibly revive him and try to fix things as much as he could.

They looked at each other for the first time. They never said it aloud, godforbid, but they liked the other's eyes. And perhaps the eyes were a window to a person's soul, their broken souls, tormented by the life's temptations. They were still so young, probably in their twenties, and yet they looked older at the same time. Maybe because of the seriousness in their faces, their stronger stance, the way they defied their fate. They were destined to fall apart, no one would argue with it, but circumstances drove them to take action and rise from the bottomless chasm. And now they had each other.

"We need to get out of here," she stated and pulled him by the sleeve that hung loosely from his shoulder. They escaped Tartarus and raided a small shop near the coast to change clothes and to mingle into the public unnoticed. She quickly picked out a dress and threw herself at work while Overhaul was still standing by the shop display, looking out for the potential intruders.

He couldn't erase the thought of this being some sort of a really weird first date; the girl coming out of the stall and the guy examining her looks. He shook his head, he never had this kind of thoughts in his entire life. He needed to pull himself together.

The bob-hair came out and adjusted the ammo on her utility belt. He looked at her from the corner and she was stunning; intimidating with a tad bit of femininity in design. He stood there and watched how good it fit her curvy form. The thoughts wandering in his head sounded so wrong, terribly wrong. He needed to bring himself to stop.

"Oh right, I almost forgot." she took a shirt off the shelf and came to him, showing him the garment in her hands "You need a little help, right?"

"Sure.'' his voice was small and he stood still while she undid his buttons. Maybe from the outside he looked completely calm, but from the inside he was a complete mess. He looked at her face and wondered if she knew, the kind of effect she's having on him. She raised her head and he looked to the side, there's no way he could look her in the eyes at this point. He hoped she didn't notice.

"You like this one, don't you?" she asked, filling the awkward silence.

"Looks don't matter, the most important thing is to change and avoid getting caught." She looked annoyed. Great. He wanted to shove his head though the wall. Wait… Why was he thinking that?

"I choose the clothes I like. It makes me feel better in my skin."

"You look good in it."

She looked at him surprised and he quickly corrected himself "the dress looks good."

"Sure." she trailed off and put the new shirt over his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tensing. This was probably because of the cool air, she assured herself.

"Why did you break me out of Tartarus? It's not like I could be of any use to you."

She buttoned up his shirt and fixed the wrinkled parts on the garment, hand accidentally brushing over the left side of his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Well... that was a surprise.

"I thought that maybe you could be of some use to the demon lord. Not Quirk-wise, but you may offer a valuable set of information. Something that the demon lord would appreciate greatly." she could feel it slowing down and her heart dropped just as much.

"But also because I... liked you."

He looked at her incredulously and she smiled. She pinched him to bring him out of the trance and he complained. "Don't be awkward, say something."

"I like you too... I, this is my first time I ever said this to anyone. It's weird."

She slapped him gently on the shoulder and he reached to take it but, yea, no hands.

"What the hell?"

"You're the one who's weird. But I guess that I like you this way." she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek "Ew, you should definitely shave though. No doubt about it."

The former yakuza boss swore; he'll never understand women. But for some reason he couldn't deny that he was particularly drawn to this one. He wondered if pops would approve of her.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #overhaul #chisaki kai #sniperhaul #shie hassaikai #ch 311 #bnha spoilers #bnha fic #crack ship #parody

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

omg can you do a print of damie in canon just interacting with flora bc i would love that

She’s lost Flora.

There is, Dani thinks with the forced calm of one already beginning to spiral, little cause to panic. The house is big, but it’s not that big--and Flora is a good kid. She’s not exactly prone to just wandering off. She certainly wouldn’t, say, vanish from sight and reappear somewhere unexpected, suddenly acting like she didn’t entirely remember the time in between.

That doesn’t sound like Flora at all.

She isn’t running, per se, from room to room. Running would suggest there is a problem to be handled, and if she starts thinking along those lines--if she starts obsessing about Flora’s distinctly off-putting way of gazing over her shoulder, of saying things just a little too odd to be hand-waved away, of looking at Dani as though she can see straight through her to the unease thrumming under the surface--well. That way lies nothing useful. Nothing at all.

“Have you seen Flora?” The kitchen had seemed a good bet. Here, after all, is Owen, puttering away over the ingredients for the evening’s meal, his mood somber as he uses the manor to avoid reflecting on his mother’s upcoming funeral. Here is Hannah, dutifully rearranging the china, pretending not to steal glances at Owen’s lanky frame every few seconds. That spot at the table is made for Flora, little legs hanging off the chair, brimming with questions--

But Flora isn’t there, and Owen is shaking his head.

“Not since lunch. Lost her, have you?”

No, she almost snaps. A count of three, a long-held breath; she smiles tightly, reminding herself that this is not Owen’s fault, nor Owen’s job. The children will be your responsibility alone, after all.

“She’s quick,” she says instead. Hannah purses her lips.

“Perhaps upstairs with Miles?”

She isn’t. Miles, bent over a book with a solemn expression, blinks up at her as though she’s dragged him by the shirt collar out of the actual wardrobe to Narnia.

“She asked me to color--what time is it?”

“Two,” Dani says, sparing the briefest glance for her watch. He shrugs.

“An hour ago, I think? I told her to ask Hannah.” A flash of concern crosses his face, a too-adult creasing of brow. “Was that wrong? I just wanted to finish my book--”

“It’s fine,” Dani assures him, ruffling his hair. Too-adult, his expression may be, but this is the most kid she’s seen Miles in days. The last thing she wants is to dissuade him from reading, or from the loose sprawl of his posture.

An hour, though. In the days since coming to Bly, Dani can’t remember twenty minutes passing without Flora turning up underfoot.

Outside, she thinks with another swell of barely-restrained panic. She’s outside. By the lake, probably, where Flora can so often be found keeping company with dolls and talismans and snatches of ethereal song.

It isn’t exactly a reassuring thought, particularly with summer rain sluicing down the windows, scattering over the roof like pellets. A storm, it isn’t, but an eight-year-old girl has no business wandering in weather like this.

You'd have loved it, at her age, Dani reminds herself. There’s nothing at all wrong with a little girl puddle-jumping for the sheer joy of it. Flora probably got bored, cooped up with a bunch of busy adults and her brother uninterested in playing games. She’s fine. She’s almost certainly fine.

An umbrella is waiting beside the door, still damp from Owen’s trip in before breakfast. Dani takes a breath, pops it open, steels herself for the brisk wind.

The grounds are gray, the puddles turning the grass to a squelchy mess beneath her shoes. She keeps her head up, her eyes carefully turned away from the puddles which sit like recklessly-dropped mirrors at every turn; if she so much as glances down and spots a flash of glasses, she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep her composure.

Flora is not by the lake, as it turns out. Nor the statue gardens. Nor the rose bushes. Flora is nowhere, she’s starting to think, and her mind is finally turning toward the worst--toward the depth of that lake, how easily a small girl might slip off the embankment and tumble headlong into its hungry waves without notice--when she remembers the greenhouse.

Jamie will help. The thought rises without warning, a solid patch of sunlight at the center of the storm. Jamie will help--because Jamie knows every corner of these grounds as well as her own hands. Jamie, who maybe doesn’t know Dani all that well, but didn’t seem to mind offering gentle reassurance, exchanging unexpectedly deep conversation on the couch...or Dani taking her hand in the dark. Jamie, who had said, Who the hell knew? Jamie, who had worn an expression a little like awe.

They haven’t had time to talk about it since, but even so. Even so, for Flora, Jamie is sure to--

She hesitates at the door, fist raised to knock. It feels foolish, rapping on the entry to a greenhouse like it’s Jamie’s own bedroom--but this is, she reasons, as close to Jamie’s home as she’s ever likely to get.

“Jamie, are you...”

“Here,” her voice comes from somewhere just out of sight. Dani takes a cautious step in out of the rain, jostling the umbrella and pulling it hastily shut. Best not to invite bad luck--she’s certainly already had her share.

“I’m looking for Flora,” she calls, feeling a bit silly. There’s so much going on in this room--plants and tables, pots and a variety of outdoor furniture draped with old blankets. Normally, Jamie is easy to spot amid the riot of greens and pinks, her hands busy coaxing seedlings to life. Today, Dani feels as though she’s tripped and fallen into a game of hide and seek.

“Don’t have to look far,” Jamie’s voice comes again--from behind the sofa, Dani thinks. “C’mere.”

“Miss Clayton!” Flora pipes up, and Dani feels the tension leave her body in a violent rush. Her hand grips the nearest table for support, her eyes closing in relief. “Come color with us”

“Come--sorry?” She can’t have heard right. Jamie? Jamie the gardener, putting aside work and temper to waste an afternoon on crayons?

Yes--yes, that appears to be exactly what Jamie is doing. Sprawled on her stomach, still dressed in her coveralls, she’s got a blue crayon in hand and a green one tucked behind her ear. She glances up as Dani steps nearer, a smile lighting her face.

“Kid came stumbling in out of the rain an hour ago. Expect she didn’t think to warn you in advance?”

“Sorry.” Flora offers a sheepish smile, sitting up quickly. “Are you very cross?”

“No, of course not.” Just going to need a minute to purge the image of finding you facedown in the goddamned lake, is all. “Next time, though, you’ll have to tell me you’re leaving the house alone. I need to know where you are at all times, Flora.”

She expects Jamie to scoff at this--to say, Ah, she was with me, she’s fine. Instead, Jamie stretches over to land a sharp flick on Flora’s upper arm.

“Rude to make Poppins worry. Look, she’s gone all pink.” She looks up at Dani, grinning. “Not a bad look, if we’re in the market for honesty.”

Dani suspects pink is the lightest shade she can manage, with Jamie gazing at her that way. It’s too easy, all of a sudden, to remember an unexpectedly soft hand under her own fingers, Jamie turning reflexively at the wrist to hold her back.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Flora says, a phrase Dani is starting to think is more Flora than even perfectly splendid. “Here--I was just about to do one of you!”

Jamie gestures with the blue crayon, a silent suggestion for Dani to sit beside her. “Might as well. Rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.” She lowers her voice, eyes fixed on Flora’s determined rummage through the crayon box. “Sorry about that, Poppins. Know she’s been unpredictable lately, didn’t like the idea of her stumping around in the cold. If I’d known you were worried--”

“It’s all right.” In truth, she’s glad Flora made her way out here. Growing more pleased by the moment with this development, really, as Jamie slides a blank sheet of paper in front of her and presses a purple crayon into her hand.

“Join us. We’re doing portraiture.”

“I can see that,” Dani laughs. Jamie’s handiwork speaks of a distinct lack of care for detail--each sketch on her page is, at best, a stick figure with a single defining feature. “How does Owen hold up his head, carrying a mustache the size of his torso?”

“With minimal decorum,” Jamie says, grinning. “And she’s right, it’s your turn.”

Dani suspects she’s going less pink, more a volatile shade of maroon, with both parties squinting at her face, their papers, her face again. Flora is doing her very best work, taking several minutes just to select the closest shades of blue, yellow, pink. Jamie makes an enormous production of holding up a crayon, closing one eye, gauging proportions--and then, cheerfully, scrawling a figure identical to the other four already on the page.

“I’m taller than Hannah?” Dani asks, unable to resist a giggle. Jamie frowns.

“Ah, you’re...standin’ on a crate.” She adds a box beneath Dani’s non-existent feet with a flourish, nodding. “There. It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve ranked you all on how much I like you. Takin’ into account, of course, certain accusations pointed my way regarding mud and shiny floorboards.” Jamie winks. Dani finds herself gripping her crayon almost hard enough to hurt.

“You’re not drawing, Miss Clayton!” Flora observes. Dani glances away from Jamie’s smile--a difficult act only a few days ago, nearly impossible now--and clears her throat.

“Well. Maybe just until the rain stops.”

There are, she thinks as a comfortable quiet settles over the greenhouse, infinitely worse ways to spend her afternoon.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #flora wingrave #soft prompts #hope this is about what you were looking for #soft it certainly is

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yoonieboonie · 3 years

Text

The Substitute Lover (3)

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff, angst hehe

pairing: myg x reader

summary: Finally meeting the college boy you've been eyeing on for months, everything goes wrong when you realise what you're really getting yourself into.

a/n: this is part 3!!! i finally, finally figured out the whole masterlist thing! anyway, is it alright if i ask for feedback? because it honestly keeps me going and i’ve been writing non-stop bc of the hearts and reblogs you’ve given me. thank you from the bottom of my heart!

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You didn’t sleep a wink that night. What has gotten into Yoongi and he decided to take you to that date? It was clear as day that you didn’t win against him. Your score are tied up, all because you forgot who Plato is. You plop your head on a pillow and let out a muffled scream. Who forgets Plato on a Humanities class? Your eyes trail to the bedside table, watching the big hand of the clock tick the minutes away. Not long after, you realise that it is already morning, and you recall how cold Yoongi’s voice was when he reminded you not to be late. You quickly jumped off the bed and prepared for the day. You presumed that Yoongi didn’t have classes today. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked you to push through with the “date”. On the other hand, you are going to miss a whole day of class. The wind was cold on your skin as you step out your apartment building. You hugged your coat to your chest, adjusting your backpack, remembering Namjoon’s stare each time you use it. It was no surprise to them that you are not fashionable, despite that, they didn’t push their opinion on your fashion choices any further. Walking to the gate, you noticed that it was almost 9:00am. Five minutes to spare. There he was though, in his mighty glory. Your eyes widened at the thought of him waiting for you. It was bad enough that you forced him on this date, furthermore let him wait for you. You half-jogged to where he was. Panting, you started to speak. “Sorry for being late. Have you been waiting long?” Yoongi stayed silent, only eyeing you up and down. He nodded his head and started to stalk out of the campus. You followed him quietly trying to practice in your head how you’d initiate a conversation with him. With your thoughts drifting, you noticed he skidded to a stop once you got to the waiting shed. You both are going to wait for a bus, you concluded. Once the bus arrived, he still refused to talk to you. This was going horrible so far. You were not having the time of your life and he mirrors that too. You took a seat beside him and tried to shake the thought away. Maybe he would open up soon, you decided to be a little more patient. You decided to try one more time and take out your phone. Carefully, you plugged in your earbuds, looking over Yoongi who kept his gaze straight ahead. You meekly tap his shoulder and offered to share it. He glanced briefly and shook his head. You slump in your seat. This was a really bad idea. “We shouldn’t have done this. I’m sorry for forcing you to go.” You stood up, getting ready to alight on the next bus stop. A wrist shoots up and gently grabs your arm. “Where are you going?” He questioned. His first words to you today. Wow. Sighing, you sat again and faced him. You did want to go on a date with him, but not forcibly. “Let’s just go back to the campus. I’m sure Hoseok and Namjoon might be—“ “They won’t.” “How are you sure?” You ask, genuinely curious. “We have classes today. I just skipped.” He explained nonchalantly. Your mouth formed into an O, trying to suppress the crimson red that’s trying to creep onto your cheeks. You can’t help but think that he might’ve wanted this too as much as you did. It sent a foreign feeling to your heart. Subconsciously, you held a hand to it. Noticing this, Yoongi lifted an eyebrow. “Is something the matter with you?” “No, I’m alright. I’m sorry for making you miss class.” You bowed your head. “Stop,” Yoongi spoke. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”

As soon as you saw the castle that signals the entrance of the theme park, you ran as fast as you can, momentarily forgetting that you had company. You stared at everything with glee, almost jumping at every sight. Yoongi watched you as he walked towards the same direction. “Let’s go.” You hear him mutter behind you as he finally catches up, breaking into your trance. Both of you lined up to get tickets, Yoongi watches as you clumsily swing your backpack in front in attempt to retrieve your wallet. While rummaging through your things, Yoongi contemplated on what he was about to offer. He did agree to go to whatever this was, but mostly because he wanted to prove Hoseok and Namjoon wrong. That he is indeed capable of moving on and if this stupid date was a proof for that then be it. However, he also didn’t want to make you hope. Yoongi also has a heart.

“I’ll pay.” Yoongi was surprised by his own voice. You looked up, your already doe eyes getting magnified more by your glasses, he let out a small “tsk” as he repeated what he said. Were you deaf? The problem wasn’t that you had bad hearing, but it was because you heard him crystal clear. “No, it’s okay.” You softly smiled, making Yoongi look away. He didn’t want to look at you anymore, it was intriguing but he decided that he wanted this day to be over with. You are making it difficult for him, he thought, but sadly, he has no idea why. He reached out to push your wallet back in your bag. Then after, turning to the cashier to buy two tickets. He handed you one and went in first. The theme park was everything that you expected. The enormous rides, different carts of food to munch on, candies, balloons, and colorful gift shops. You felt overwhelmed by everything. You want to try them all, your eyes practically twinkling with delight. Yoongi can tell you’re holding yourself back so he decided to speak first. “Where do you want to go first?” He asked. You pointed to the gift shop to which he nodded. You both made your way inside and your attention was immediately captured by the variety of headbands mounted to the wall. You grab one, pink bunny ears, to be exact. You quickly try it on, looking over to Yoongi who had a blank expression on his face. You shrugged it off; he doesn’t really seem the type to like these kinds of things. On the other side, Yoongi wants to kick himself for his heart was beating so loudly, if it can burst in his chest, he was pretty sure it will. He tried to keep a blank expression on his face as he watch you pay for the headband that you decided to leave on through the day. The next stop was rides, you were skeptical of asking Yoongi to come with you but it dawned on you that you wanted this so the best you may do is make the most out of it. That’s when you grab Yoongi’s jacket sleeve, dragging him to various rides. He let you drag him, not one complaint from him.

After about five rides, you both were exhausted. It was around noon and you were both hungry too. Since Yoongi paid for the tickets, it’s only fair for you to buy the food. So as you both take a seat at an empty table at the park’s food court, you excused yourself to use the restroom when you actually went to but hotdogs and soda instead. Yoongi noticed that you took a while; he tried to ignore the worry building inside him especially when you revealed that you were new in Seoul and was from Daegu all your life. Did you get lost? He checked his watch and when he concluded that you were taking too long, he prepared to stand up and gather his things when he saw you trying to juggle a tray of food in your hands. You walked towards him and placed the food on the table. You placed the hotdog and a can of soda in front of him and beamed. “Eat well, Yoongi. Thank you for taking me here.” Yoongi said nothing but started to eat. You did as well but you wanted to know more about him so you tried to initiate a small talk. “How old are you?” you asked, taking a sip from your soda. He stayed silent so you took that as a cue to speak again. “I’m 23. Taking up Bachelor of Science Major in Business Administration. Born and raised in the farmlands of Daegu.” You chatter away when you noticed him playing with the pendant of the necklace he was wearing. Your eyes watch his slender fingers twirl it around, clearly uncomfortable with the ongoing conversation. “Is that hers?” You boldly asked. His hands halted to a stop, dropping on the table. You notice him tense up and look away. “It’s none of your business, Y/N. Please don’ bring it up again.” He stated icily. You frankly felt bad for imposing on him like that. He wasn’t obligated to tell you anything. You felt absolutely horrible and wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. Instead, you cleared your throat and started to apologise. “I’m sorry for asking such a personal question, Yoongi. It’s just, I want to get to know you more and I overstepped a line. Again, I am sincerely sorry.” He stood up and you did too. He cleared up the wrappers and empty cans of soda and headed to the trash bin. You were staring at his back while he did so, before you ran your big mouth, you already convinced him to ride inside the waterpark. He initially refused since he didn’t bring spare clothes but so did you. “Let’s go, Yoongi.” You nod your head to the exit. He looked at you, a confused look on his face. “I thought you want to enter the waterpark?” He asked. Strapping the both of you in, the park attendant reminded you the basics. It is basically a log that will bring you to a certain height and zoom you down to a puddle of water. You can feel your adrenaline rushing through your veins as you’re nearing the drop. As you sped down the slope, you screamed with glee and grabbed onto Yoongi’s hands that was already in the railings. A flash blinded you for a second and before you knew it, you are drenched in water. You stepped off the ride, looking like a wet duckling. Yoongi looked ten times worse, you cringed. You had forced him on this ride despite him warning you about your lack of extra clothes. You shiver slightly as you try to rub your arms in attempt to get warmth. You are failing big time and Yoongi can hear your teeth chattering. Your nose and cheeks now flushed from the cold, you both decided to enter another gift shop. Inside, you noticed that there was a booth that took pictures of the passengers of the ride. The attendant called out to you and Yoongi and offered to show you a picture. Yoongi, as polite as he can, declined and you pouted. You playfully glared at him and asked the attendant if you could see the picture. You wait patiently as the picture was being printed out, handing out the payment. You quickly put it inside your bag for safe keeping. You the proceed to Yoongi who was looking at sweaters that had big bold letters saying “MY OTHER SHIRT GOT WET SO I GOT THIS” and you noticed him holding two in his hand. The notion that you two might have couples clothing made you smile. You both paid for the shirt and head to the nearest restroom to change. The sweater, though the smallest size, ate you up. You were really small, Yoongi noticed. You eyed him up and down. “You look dashing, Yoongi.” “Thanks, it’s the shirt.” He smirked. You were about to say something back when his phone rang. One look at the screen and panic stretched across his face. He held out a finger to you, signaling you to wait for a while as he answered the call. You nodded, also worried for whoever was calling him. He slowly started walking away but he picked up while he was still in earshot. “Jagi?” he breathed. ---------------------------------------------------------

Fairytales are too good to be true anyways. You tell yourself as you kicked a pebble on your way to the bus stop. Yoongi after picking up the call was frantic, not knowing the right words to say. If you remember it correctly, all he was trying to let you know is that he had to go. You, of course, let him.

Stepping into your apartment, you beeline to the bathroom to wash up and head to bed. You were exhausted to the bone. You were getting ready to shower when you saw your reflection at the mirror. You gave out a bitter smile at the sweater you’re wearing, stripping it off, hoping you could also strip off the heaviness you feel inside your heart.

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#myg x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga x reader #suga x you #bts #yoongi angst

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lovee-infected · 4 years

Note

When will it come out where Epel cut off MC I am still waiting until this day (I'm waiting) I'm not rushing you at all but I hope you are doing well 😢 (im sad)

“Apple of my eye”

(A/N): Sorry that it took so long! Hope you enjoy this anyway dears! ~ ♡

Ever since Epel decided to cut ties with you after learning the truth of you being a girl, his life has been nothing but an absolute nightmare. He's got his days filled with fear and his nights filled with regret, wishing there to be a way for both of you to forget. Forget all the times you made him laugh, and all the times he made you cry. He wanted there to be a way for the of you to move on with your lives as if you'd never hurt one another like now. But as it is for now, he is just one step far from being trapped inside this hell forever alone, because you're finally about to leave the twisted wonderland, forever.

Living in Night Raven college has brought you nothing but pain since the day Epel, your trusted best friend and the guy you once loved rejected you after learning the fact that you are a girl. Each and every second spent around all your friends and people you used to admire felt like a torture. How long? For how long are you going to wait until them too throw you away like Epel did? For how much longer can you pretend to be fine until everyone left around you turn their backs on you as well? Days? Weeks? Months? Or have they already given up on you?

You can't take it, it just hurts so much. Even when there's a friend around, it feels like you're ready to break down in tears and run away again and again; just like it happened with Epel. Why does it hurt you so much though? You were supposed to be strong. You were all on your own when you first came into twisted wonderland, you thought you'd be able to handle it again on your own from now on. But uh, how wrong you were. To think that you'd be as strong as you used to now that your dearest one has left you behind...

No wonder why you immediately agreed to Headmaster Crowley's offer when he argued that he might've found a way to send you back home by passing through the black mirror under 2 conclusions : 1) You'll never be able to make a return to twisted wonderland and 2)You won't remember anyone, or anything from this world. As if it has never existed.

At this point, forgetting Epel and everything about him forever seemed to be the only way of letting go of the pain... Now that you can't have him, best would be to never remember how much you once loved.

"(y/n)... is leaving?" Epel murmurs. Rook shakes his head as a yes, all he could do was to at least let Epel know after how things had gone between you and him lately.

Perhaps Rook was the only one who exactly knows happened that morning, the day Epel tainted each and every memory you once had beside him which you used to recall as your sweetest days of life.

Even as Rook was just sneak peaking behind the wall and all he could do was to listen to Epel shouting and you trying to calm him a bit, he's pretty certain that he heard the sound of your heart breaking the moment Epel mercilessly told you that he's cutting ties with you.

Young Epel really did have a hidden dark side all this time, didn't he...?

Lucky of him that Rook was the only one who saw that. Rook may not be that respective toward people's privacy, but he does know how to keep a friend's secret. As for now, he had to agree that your case was concerning. Not just for you but for Epel himself as well. It's pretty rare of him to feel so but he you can tell that he does care.

"In a few days or so, just enough of time for her to patch stuff up and, well, say goodbye to her friends,"

Friends, huh? To think that not so long ago Epel deserved to be reminded as your friend... How fast did it all change,right? Time is an absolutely terrifying thing, he thinks.

A moment of silence passes until Rook speaks up: "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

'Say good bye',...This sentence keeps on being repeated inside Epel's head. Why would you even want to hear these words coming from him while Epel himself was the only reason that you have to leave? He hurt you and there was no way to undo what he did to you, even if he could one day be able to face that you, his best friend and at some point, the only friend ever since he stepped into night raven college are a girl, it was impossible to look into your eyes again like he hadn't done all the terrible works he did.

That is a fact, he can't fix a broken heart, neither his or yours. Yes, he was mad at you and is still mad. He felt so used to see that you of all people couldn't even trust him with such a simple thing like your gender. The fearful thought of you getting that close to him because he was nothing but a naïve boy who couldn't tell the difference between male and female. If so, were all the times you told Epel that you cared for him a lie? Did you just want to play him around because he was a lonely boy who didn't have any other friends to talk to? Did you too find him stupid...? Why (y/n)? Why..??

Epel bites his lower lip trying his best not to cry in front of Rook. He already cries enough every night in bed and doesn't need another audience watching him suffer.

"Epel?" Rook calls, making Epel realize that he hasn't yet answered his question.

No, he isn't going to walk up to you just to say goodbye. But if he refuses to do so, wouldn't it make that heartless "I'd rather cut ties with you" his very last sentence to you...?

Epel rolls over and his bed again again, another sleepless night. Though something made this night worse than the previous ones, tommorow would be the day that you'll quit his world forever, and he didn't even come to say his last goodbye...

When was the last time he Epel got a proper night sleep anyway? He can't remember. He's sure been a while that he wanted to take a second in peace, either through sleeping or through reality. When he was awake, he wanted to shut his eyes on life. When he tried to sleep, it either ended with him squirming in his surprisingly 'uncomfortable' bed all the time or waking up wet in sweat from another nightmare.

The only time he actually got to sleep for a minute at least was during classes. 'Hopelessly romantic boy', his classmates teasingly called him. Telling how those who're slowly falling in love would lose the track of their lives and become a total mess like Epel was. Epel never said a word in opposition as he didn't want to end up telling them the story of him recklessly breaking your heart after all you'd done for him, yet it was already obvious that he didn't like this term being used for him at all.

Hopelessly romantic boy...huh?

His insomnia issues were no joke, he couldn't concentrate during classes at all. His vision was all blurry and his eyes felt heavily sleepy. Teachers kept on talking and talking while Epel just stared at the mess of words forming enormous sentences in the books until his eyes went shut. There were a few times that even teachers ended up having to shake him after the class to wake him up before sending him to the headmaster's office right away.

"Young Felmier, are you okay? You've been looking very, uh,you know, different lately"

Is he okay? He's been asking himself the same question for a while.

"Yes, Headmaster"

'I, am not okay.'

He hasn't been okay for a long while, at least he's well aware of it. But there's no point in letting anyone else know, right? Perhaps the only one who might've understood how horrible he is feeling right now... was you. Epel drowns in thoughts and memories are brought back to him:

It's been months since then, but it feels like it was just a minute ago, that he had his head on your shoulder as his warm tears soaked your clothes and his warm breath brushed against your neck. It was probably one of his worse days ever. He ran off having tears in his eyes in front of enormous people, yet not a single soul cared to come after him but you. He was a total mess when you found him under the apple tree, his face was flushed and his diamond blue eyes were filled with pain and tears. You didn't even know him much but seeing him like that, in pain and tears, Epel was no more than a stranger but for some reason...it still hurt. You couldn't take it. Accepting hugs from strangers isn't really his thing, but to be comforted right as you need nothing more than an embrace to cry on, it felt...nice.

You've been always beside him from then on, he couldn't really tell why. He was neither too strong nor too smart, he wasn't any famous or rich either. He was nothing but a random country boy who got noticed by you, the mysterious student who got widely popular throughout the school because of their bravery and strength to fight against several overblots without having any magic after a rather short time.

He often felt proud of how lucky he was to have you. It wasn't just because of how famous and adored you later became, he could tell that there was something special about you from the very beginning. You probably didn't notice but when he first met you at the enterence ceremony, he didn't realize that he'd been keeping his eyes on you all the time. He didn't know why, what could the reason be? Curiosity? A childish interest? Or... something else than these?

From the day after, he couldn't take his eyes off you. It was strange, he doesn't usually get to see someone this much around, but you...you were always there. Right in front of him.

He couldn't help but to watch silently until you walked up to him and started to chat, he can't ever forget how silly his first conversation with you went. He was stressed out whether you'd realized the way he was staring at you all this time, could be that you were offended? He was honestly expecting this to be another trouble coming his way but to his surprise, it wasn't.

Though it took a rather long time for him to finally gain full trust on you, after a while spending time with you wasn't simply something he enjoyed doing. It became a part of his daily routine. No matter what, he wanted to see you, no, he needed to see you. Make sure that you're right, that everything between you is still the same, that he'd have you by his side for another the day he won't be left all alone if anything goes wrong.

You were his reason to keep his self-esteem built-up no matter how rough life could be, you were the only one who could give him a safe shoulder to cry on and and an embrace to close his eyes through and the thought of still having you was what gave him the purpose to keep on smiling through another rough day.

Epel nails the white bedsheets as he digs his wet face harder into the pillow, trying not to scream at the pain. What has he done? Why? Why??

How could he do this to you, the person he adored and cared for the most? Yes, you lied, but so did he. He never wanted to cut ties with you. He was furious and insecure, afraid that you might've never considered him any more than an emotional fool. It scared him, he didn't want to be the idiot you'd one say leave behind without caring to let him know that you never needed him back.

He couldn't let go of you as you'd became a part of Epel himself after all this time you've been together.

He was scared of what bigger things you might've hidden from him, including your true feelings for him. What if deep inside, all you saw through him was a helpless toy to use?

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,...they were driving him insane.

It hurt way too much to the point of thinking that he hated you. He never did, how could he? Even if he ever ends up hating everything and everyone including himself like he does now, there's no way that he'd you. You were his everything, his happiness, his hope, his wish, his angel.

'Hopelessly romantic boy'... What if his classmates were right about him though?

Oh lord, what is wrong with him? He can no longer deny the fact that he did fall in love with you while he thought it was nothing more than a simple friendship.

Only if he'd realized this sooner, only if he could've said that he loves you instead of asking you to get out of his life, only if he could've had a second chance to hug you one more time and tell you how he truly feels...

And now, it's too late to regret what he's done. You probably hate him now, and he knows that he deserves to be hated. He was the reason of your teary eyes and sleepless nights. And he and only him, was the reason of you wanting to leave all your of your friends and your memories with them behind by making a return to your own world.

As it's clear than he doesn't deserve you and your love, he decides to let his heart burn inside the flames Epel started on his own.

Let him suffer in the name of you, his one and only love, for eternity.

It's past noon yet Epel doesn't want to get out of bed. He doesn't want to look at the clock, though he's pretty sure that you've already left his world.

He wonders...where are you right now? Back to your own world? Next to the friends and family whom you love? You sure don't remember him anymore but...are you happy? Will you now live as the happy (y/n) he'll always love without him there to hurt you again?

"Sorry (y/n), sorry..." He whispers underneath his breath. Hot tears stream down Epel's face, and he squeezes his eyelids shut in the hope his tears would stop. He sat on his bed unmoving, with his choppy breathing and watery eyes remaining for quite a while. He was so lost through his pain and sorrow that didn't hear the knock on his door at first.

"Who there?-" Epel murmurs through his tear. It's probably Rook, wanting to see why he didn't make it to school today. His door continues to be knocked on, yet Epel doesn't care to answer thr sound. Doesn't matter who the hell is at the door, he doesn't want to talk right now.

He hides his face under the blanket, can't he just cry in peace? He hears the sound of his door sliding open, but doesn't bother getting the blanket off his head. He annoyedly wraps himself tighter in bed. 'Whoever you are, just leave me alone. Please, I don't want to-'

Takes a few seconds until he feels the blanket being pulled off him, he vaguely turns his head, ready to shout: "GET LOST" at whoever his interrupter is. He opens his mouth to yell but the sight of the person standing in front of him leaves him speechless.

Your bodies remain still as your eyes are locked, neither of you move a finger until you break the silence:

"Epel..." you whisper. He looks pretty different from the last time you saw him. His face looks much paler and thinner now, and from the swelling bags under his eyes you could tell that he hasn't really been sleeping well lately. The the rage and hatred you saw last time in his eyes is now replaced with emptiness and sorrow, a severe pain that makes your heart ache for him one more time. He looks so, so broken. So lost, so sad. It hurts a lot seeing him like this, though you'd sworn never to think of him the way you used to again.

"I, I came to say goodbye-" you say nervously. What is Epel having in mind now? How is he going to respond? From the way your last conversation went you could certainly tell that he held nothing else than for you now, but you, could you be the same?

Epel didn't show up to say goodbye which was another evidence of him not wanting to see your face ever again, but something deep inside your heart, something you couldn't let go of ever after he let you down told you to come to say your very last goodbye.

Epel's eyes widen in fascination. This time, he can't hold back his tears from falling. You won't stop surprising him until the very last second, will you?

Right at the moment you are expecting him to be mad and push you back again, he throws himself into your embrace. You are about to say a word, but all you can do is to let Epel feel your warm embrace and the torrent of his tears soak through your shirt. It is too painful to see him like this.

"Wh-why...Why-are you like this-? Why did you come? Why are you still being this kind?? Why can't you just hate me!?" he painfully screams through his tears. You can feel him clench his fists, as he pushes himself closer to you. You have your emotions mixed up, you can't tell wether you should be sad or happy. But here he is, crying into your embrace like he used to do before. For a second it feels like your paths had never been torn apart, that you never got separated and he never said those words which hurt you the most.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder and run your fingers through his hair, time and time again, in an attempt you calm the silent war within his mind.

For the hundredth time, you are reminded of how much he meant to you, from the very moment you were interested in getting to know about the pale lavender-haired guy who's been secretly watching you all the time.

You remember all the times he made you laugh and that sweet smile he always put on when he greeted you in the morning, you remember each and every time that he needed your embrace to either cry or feel a bit better after the hard they he might've gone through.

You remember all the times you silently cried in bed knowing that you were slowly falling for the young boy who you genuinely held dear, that he was slowly becoming the apple of your eye.

And there he was, walking in front of you, unaware of the feelings you, young (y/n) had for him and how he was truly, the one and only for you, the apple of your eye.

Before you know it, Epel is no longer the only one crying. You hold him tighter, pushing your head to his shoulder and letting your hot tears fall off your eyes, realizing how much you've missed him after all this time. Epel doesn't pull back, instead he follows and allows your bodies to come closer and closer, until there's no space left. At the moment your bodies are close enough to become one, he's got the rhythm of your chest raising and on his body and you've got his on yours. Warm breaths brushing against each other's face that it makes it almost hard to breathe.

For a second, it feels as if you and him are the only beings on the whole world and your world is skipped inside the warmth you're drowning through right now. There's no past, no future, no pain, no feelings at all. All you know is the present you're having with him, wishing that this moment would last forever.

"I...I love you," Epel whispers, only loud enough for you to hear him under your fascinated gaze. You let out silent gasp as your head's still on the back of his shoulder.

'What did he just say..?'

Those words...those 3 forbidden words you thought you'd never him Epel them back if you ever did. Yet you kept on loving him, totally aware that he might never develop such feelings for you back.

You were supposed to make a return to your own world by now, all you'd came for was a simple goodbye to someone you were supposed to consider your ex-best friend, but you know that it would be a lie. He wasn't just your best friend, he was once your everything: Your love, your smile, your tears, your hope. Even after he bitterly told you to cut ties with him, you couldn't let go of the feeling. You felt empty without him, a life without him was clueless and dark, you felt so lost, so empty, so brokenhearted. You'd lost Epel, and never thought that you'll ever get to have him close again, let alone hearing him say that he loves you back.

And now, it's all up to you. What are you going to do now? For the first time in a while, your future now relies on nothing but your very own choice. You're caught in the middle of the path, stuck between leaving the twisted wonderland for your very own sake or staying here with Epel, in a stranger world which you don't belong to, next to the guy you once appreciated the most.

With everything you've been going through all this time, what will you choose to do? How will this story come to an end? Choosing to go and leave all the pain together with all the happiness you've been experiencing next Epel all this time behind, or letting go of the past and giving him a second to maybe lead you through a life you once dreamed to have with him?

Epel has probably got a lot more to say other than that three words, knowing that you're probably running out of time if you're going to return to your own world, next to the family and beloved ones you haven't met in forever, are you still going to stay here with Epel and allow him to talk? With all the things that he did to you and made you have a severe mental breakdown afterwards, are you still to give him your attention and love, and let him have a chance to be the apple of your eye again...?

#twisted wonderland #Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rook Hunt #epel felmier x reader #Apple of my eye #Pomefiore #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #epel felmier

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familyagrestefanblog · 4 years

Text

Ml analysis: Native American miracle box

While is it obvious that the new miracle box is of native American origin I still went to do some research on it to see if I can narrow it down to a certain tribe and find more connections hidden in the lore.

So not to waste any time, here is my result:

The native American miracle box is in possession of the Souix Lakota tribe. Just like with the Ml Tibetan guardian monks represent not only 1 but 4 groups, the native American Miraculous tribe is a combination of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota and where we can safely say that the monks will primarily lean towards the Tibet representation, I would say here we will primarily lean towards the Lakota. Therefore, I will call the native America Miraculous tribe Lakota but know that the other two tribes are included in this as well.

So a dead giveaway for the identity of the ml Tribe is Jessicas Shirt. In general Jessica has the hairstyle, the physical features and the accessories typical for representing an “Indian” character and her shirt is a direct confirmation of that heritage.

On her shirt is an obvious reference to the Lakota flag which pretty much tells us that this is the Tribe we are dealing with. Nice, why cant it always be this easy?

Under the cut I cover three more points to go into more detail, read more if you’re interested ^^

1. The medicine wheel

I must give it to miraculous, using the medicine wheel for the upper layer of the miracle box is one genius move imo.

The Medicine Wheel is a sacred symbol and way of life used by the indigenous Plains tribes to represent all knowledge of the universe. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough time to really get into its teaching and living ways to be comfortable explaining its practice in more details, so in this part I want to cover only what has been directly acknowledged by Thomas Astruc. And that would be the animals (duh, obviously) and the elements.

The first thing I had to learn the hard way in this research is that there is not one "true" way for this symbol to be arranged. The way its used, what animal belongs to which color or element and even what KIND of animal is in it can vary STRONGLY from location to location.

So I accepted that the arrangement can not be pinpointed down to perfect accuracy through research. We were already given all the animals and colors, now all I can really do here is present to you a possible variation of the miraculous arrangement I put together after looking up and trying to understand the differences between the real life ones to continue from here on.

There are only two animals we know for sure the connected color of: The eagle, Jessicas miraculous of freedom and the Thunderbird. In his tweets Thomas mentioned the elements so I decided to include them in the arrangement, how or if they will be incorporated into the show I can not tell you though. But still I wanted the elements in here as well ^^

As already said, the eagle is red and the thunderbird is in the green center. As you can see I put the bear to black, the Wolf to yellow and the Buffalo to white. Those seemed to me the most likely combinations and even if they don’t end up right, it wont do harm to any of this.

Buffalo: white and air because the Lakota have a white Buffalo woman legend where air was one of the main elements she controled and used.

Wolf: yellow and fire. Fire because in Lakota legends the wolf/ coyote is a very unpredictable animal. He's both a trickster and a hero, not always moraly sound but always clever. It's a dangerous but strong and lively nature that I do think the show could represent with the fire element. Yellow is one of the two cases where I was left with this option by default.

Bear: I choose black and water because that's a combination I have seen the most

Eagle: I already know Red and choose earth in combination. At first I thought about putting fire in this place because of its normal association with red but in the end choose earth because I think it's the element that fits the best to Jessica.

But the reason why I decided to include the elements is because of the green thunderbird in the middle. Because where the other 4 animals are connected with the 4 elements, the thunderbird would here represent inner balance and harmony. Of course this isn't it's power, but the layout makes it quite obvious that the thunderbird is the equivalent of the ladybugs and cats yin-yang. My assumption right now is that this is how the show will cover the different types of "balance" although the world cultures it incorporates, but let me come back to this one another time.

2. more cultural references and meanings

The thunderbird represents the most powerful one of this miracle box because the thunderbird is the one animal that is present in every Souix Lakota tribe and holds an enormous cultural and spiritual significance. It is a mythological bird and is associated with several legends starting from controlling the storms, lightnings and thunder to being the protector of the humans and even being a helper of the creation of reality (Reality in Ml are the LB and Cat hence why its place in the middle of the box is well deserved) It only makes sense that it would be chosen for this and I know it may seem cliché but please hear me out, which is why im convinced this is the miraculous of the chiefs.

A couple of details do support this for me but please remember I'm not exposed to alot of native American cultures I'll do my best to get things right but if I do interpret something(s) wrong feel free to correct me.

For one, well, the symbol. While looking up the clothing for a later point I did see a symbol like this on some of the feather headdresses.

Definitely not on all of them, I couldn't figure out if there is a system behind the pattern usage or tied to a distinct area but I do know that it is THERE and not exactly rarely either. Noticeably it isn't a 1 to 1 fit but that is an all time returning thing in miraculous. Real life and historical things like this have to be slightly altered for the show to be able to incorporate them. A great example for this is the old English flag in "Darkblade".

So at this point I'm used to this pattern, so yeah, this could very likely be a symbol they took inspiration from.

The second reason why I think it it's the miraculous of the chiefs is because the piece with the symbol on it looks like one of these

In combination with the feather on it. The feather headdress is also called a war bonnet and was originally only worn in battles and only by the person who has truly earned that honor. Each feather represents a distinct honor earned in battle which is why we see feather headdresses in such different lengths. How this translates perfectly into a miraculous I think is obvious. The headdress is a symbol of true leadership and worthiness of such a status, hence why it were especially the chiefs to earn such impressive ones. Turning it into a miraculous wouldn't change too much about it since such a powerful miraculous is an honor and duty you have to be worthy of as well. Them being originally used only for battles is a perfect fit too, because so are the miraculous.

Then of course once again, the thunderbird.

The thunderbird being the great mythical protector animal of these tribes makes it naturally a perfect fit for the miraculous animal of the great chiefs. The chiefs were not only the leaders they also were the primary warrior in battles which is seen by the war bonnets. Having the Thunderbird be the miraculous of the chiefs highlights their status as the tribes protector in such a genuine way, I personally really really love it.

As the last point of 2. I want to bring up the outside top of the Miracle box and the way its designed. While looking through the clothing symbols and pattern I did notice some that looked similar to the ones on the box. I deliberately tried to find a more recent example of usage because in the end of the day Miraculous is a show for TODAY so if the show used patterns for example that may not have been used in the past but are now associated with the Lakota that’s still valid. So the possible matches for design inspiration I found stem from a picture of chief Arvol Lookinghorse who holds the responsibility of spiritual leader among the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota People to this day.

3. Their location and monuments

Researching the lakota made me think of where this guardian group has its roots, which made me remember something I found on my guardian mountain - mount kailash theory a while ago (I swear right now everything comes back to that theory). In it I showed you the monuments-line around the world always separated by a length of 6666km between each other (basically the height of Mount Kailash) and while I didn't mention it there, there is also one of those "mythical" monuments in the USA.

The bears lodge butte (in Wyoming)

I mean LOOK at this, that is out of this world and breath-taking in every sense of the word! That is a location of a miraculous guardianship if I had ever seen one. Also known under the (sadly) much more well known name of "Devils tower" but this will be the one and only time you will read of me calling it like that. The fact that this butte is still officially called by this disrespectful and bastardized white peoples name is a freaking insult. I'm calling it the bears lodge as this was its original english name.

The bears lodge is not just a monument in the USA it is the VERY FIRST official monument (1906) and the location of the butte also checks out perfectly with the areas the Lakota settled in real life. I couldn’t get the exact scale but I think you will still understand just fine.

Adding to the Bears Lodge butte I also wanna bring up the "other" medicine wheel. Which is, just like Bears lodge, located in Wyoming.

As we know the rest of the native American miracle box is made of the zodiac signs just like in our normal miracle box. Confirmed not only on Twitter but also in the very intro of the New York special.

But the same way the miracle box is similar to ours the Medicine wheel as monument reminded me of something as well. Of course I'm talking about the ritual circle in the Kwami "dimension" of the box seen in “Sandboy”.

And just like the native American monument it is also of "astronomical" nature. Taking a closer look at the Chinese Kwami circle one can see that the outer ring is made of specific places for each Kwami signified with a picture of their "animal".

And in the inner circle is obviously the moon circulation.

Meaning, put very simple, this is a design specifically meant to represent the Chinese calendar and culture this miracle box is based on. Therefor this should also exist for the native american one. My guess Is that for all the boxes/cultures Miraculous is gonna include they will also have an “ritual circle” equivalents for each based on all the different kinds of stone circle monuments around the world, including the medicine wheel of the Lakota.

But not only was the medicine wheel monument used for astronomical purposes, with it the people wanted to give things back to mother nature. They placed things right in the middle of the wheel under the stones so nature could take it back "spiritually" (for a lack of a better word on my part) through their rituals and chants. Which is something once again similar to what we see with the Kwamis.

First if all, when the Kwamis (who are the embodiments of the abstract concepts reality is made of) enter their "dimension" in the miracle box the guardian symbol opens right at the center point, letting them cross the layers of reality.

Second, the Kwamis are obviously able to take material objects with them to the in-between dimension. Supporting and verifying the Lakota’s ritual because at the very least in the ML world its actually true. And thirdly, when the Kwamis try to reach Nooroo they chant as well and once again the collected energy is combined in the middle to cross the layers of reality. Gabriel is transformed though so he, as Hawkmoth, is able to almost take over the connection and therefore the miracle box if the Kwamis hadn’t blocked him.

This shows that the spiritual dimension layers are interactive from both sides under certain circumstances. A normal human being wouldn’t be able to cross the layers and take control like this but the more a person is involved with/ powered up by the miraculous the more power they hold interdimensional. Which is the idea of a ritual to reach the spiritual side of nature brought to a new 11 as TV shows usually do.

4. The design of the guardian.

I'm definitely not the right person to properly judge this in depth therefore I will just showcase my opinion based on the research.

The way I see it for the guardians design they tried to combine the guardian "look" with the native American one.

The pants, staff and robe-like upper part are obviously influenced by the guardian we already saw through Fu's flashbacks, whereas the colors, the hairstyle and shoes (etc) are kept more Lakota-like. Though, as far as my opinion counts in this, the much darker skin and the eyebrows in comparison to Jessica does make me question if he is supposed to represent the same native American tribes as her. His bushy eyebrows are a physical characteristic I recognize in rarely any real life photos and neither did I notice such a noticeable difference in skin color.

Jessica and the guardian simply do not really look like they are of the same heritage to me, but again, who am I to say this isn't a legit representation? Besides that, it makes alot more sense that this guardian wasn't lost for almost 200 years like the ones in Tibet, so it is a fair option to consider that this black guardian may not be of "original Lakota heritage" but he is simply a worthy man born in this area of the USA (who knows in what year considering the guardians life spans) who was chosen and trained for the guardianship simply because he was the right fit for it just like Marinette.

I think it's only fair to consider that option as well, especially since we have NO official background on him. But that's just my opinion.

And as the last thing I want to bring up is the symbol on his robe because this is something I'm going to need help with.

We can hardly see it and I've tried my best to find something in my research but I just couldn't find anything fitting.

If anybody has the means and knows if this is a cultural reference as well, I would appreciate it if this knowledge could be shared here as well. I really would love to know ^^

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml theory #ml new york special #ml new york spoilers #Native american miraculous #Lakota tribe in Ml #ml sugar #Miraculous world #Miracle box #ml sandboy #thomas astruc tweet #guardians of the miraculous #Jessica Keynes

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irontinystar · 4 years

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hi! i was wondering if you’d recommend other authors that you enjoy or even specific fanfics you like? i’ve only just started getting into the steve/tony fandom and want to follow more people! thank you!

Hi there!!! Welcome to the fandom!!!<3<3<3

I’m so glad you asked this question since I’ve always wanted to do a fic rec post!!!!

HERE WE GO:

10K+ WORDS (ONE CHAPTER) FICS:

Quit while you’re ahead by magicasen

“It began, as things tend to between them, as a bet.”

the reason you ruminate the shadowy past by Mizzy

“So, Captain America effectively manages to cockblock Tony for a year.

It's not Steve's fault. Well, actually, it is. But he was just proving a point - that if a superhero is gay, how can it be wrong? Steve just picked the wrong superhero to make the point with. Now America will think they're dating - and Tony's not going to be the guy to break Captain America's heart.

There's only one way out. To save face, Steve and Tony have to become fake boyfriends. Steve thinks the "boyfriends" bit will be the hardest to act... but maybe it's the "fake" part that will be the hardest act of all...”

made to make you blue by gottalovev

“Steve, drunk for the first time since the serum, hits on Tony. It's everything Tony's ever dreamt about, but he refuses to have sex with a drunk Steve who can't truly consent. They do kiss, though, and Tony stays the night. The morning after brings a misunderstanding of disastrous proportion, where both men wrongly assume the other is uninterested. Life gets extremely complicated when Enchantress, mad at Thor, casts a spell that links people who love each other together, letting them feel the other's pain.”

On the Turning Away by thegraytigress

“Tony's new relationship with Steve is going great. They're a few weeks into it, and it's utterly amazing. He's feeling better and more sure of himself than he ever has before. Honestly, he's flying high.

But then he asks Steve a simple, logical, and seemingly innocent question: "do you want to spend the night?" And everything comes crashing down.”

love the sin, love the sinner by silkspectred

“It keeps happening. Not often, just once or twice a month, but it keeps happening. Always in the same way: it’s unplanned, sudden, unexpected, Steve is surprised and eager, his dick goes from zero to one hundred in two seconds, Tony’s touch is electric, everything he does drives Steve crazy, but he never lets Steve kiss him, he very rarely looks Steve in the eye, he never talks, never makes a sound when he comes, never mentions it later.”

Of Beards and Best Defenders by nannersmelo

“Tony finds out about when Steve had a beard once upon a time, and outraged that he never got to see it, decides to find a way to witness it by himself.”

Tony Pretends To Date Steve (Until He Doesn't Have To) by HappyStony

“"You alright?"

Of course he was not alright! Tony had a blue eyed, blond haired, six foot too high, two hundred who knows what pound, too sexy for his own good ninety something, mentally twenty, year old man on top of him. Who even asks that question in a situation like that?

Or: Basically the title. Tony pretends he's dating Steve until...well, you know.”

i have found the one (whom my soul loves) by soniclipstick (veriscence)

“It's been months since the Avengers were pardoned. One by one, they'd all gone home, until Steve finds himself alone in the grand old building T'Challa had given them.

But everything changes when Steve answers the doorbell, and Tony Stark strides in with more grey on his temple and make-up on his face than Steve remembers.”

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei

“The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.”

we have become something different, beloved (tragic and lovely) by Areiton, venusiaries

“"What's the Accords?" he asks, and Tony's head tilts. "I don't think that concerns you," he says. "But you don't deny that it's something." "There's a lot of something's I'm involved in that you don't know about," Tony says.

~~~~

There's a story, years long and publicly known, about the way the Avengers ended and why. And then there is the truth, carefully hidden and protected.”

remedy by quidhitch

““I like the walls,” Steve shrugs, knocking his knuckles against the side as if to demonstrate. “Makes me feel covered.”

A soldier in a fortress, Tony thinks, which is a pretty ridiculous thought to have about Captain America and his enormous limbs stuffed into a too-small bathtub, but there it is.

Or: Tony Stark learns a thing or two about what it means to be In Recovery™.”

Binary System by Annie D (scaramouche) ( @no-gorms )

“Tony tends to be tactile with people he trusts. These days that list of people includes Steve, which is a good sign of the progression of their friendship. For his part, Steve seems to enjoy it as much as Tony does... until Tony goes a little too far.”

The Best Policy by starknjarvis

“Tony Stark breezes through life on bluster and bullshit. When he gets hit by a truth spell, he locks himself away in his workshop so he can find a way to reverse it without anyone finding out. So why can't he say no when Steve keeps asking to spend time with him?”

Slipping off the Page into Your Hands by Sineala ( @sineala )

“Soulmates have their first words to each other written on their wrists. This should make it easy. For Steve and Tony, it is anything but. Steve's problem is that the future he has awoken into is nothing he was ever expecting: he has a soulmate now. Who might be a robot. And if his soulmate is Iron Man, how can he be so attracted to Tony Stark? It should be impossible. Tony's problem is that he is Iron Man, his soulmate is a man whom he in no way deserves, and he is going to fight everything in his heart and do his best to make sure Steve never, ever finds out the whole truth.”

How to Win Affection Without Really Trying by Annie D (scaramouche)

“Tony almost dies saving Steve’s life, but that’s just part of being an Avenger. It’s no reason for Steve to get all weird and intense around him afterward.”

A Certain Affinity by miobambiino ( @miobambiino )

“"They were like that a lot nowadays, ever since they got back from their little kidnapping escapade. Sure, they’d been close before then - they all had - but now… it was different. They were close, close. Squishing up next to each other, whispering to one another, playing with each others hair, apparently.

Steve inwardly grimaced at himself. He was being bitter and petty, he knew that. But he couldn’t figure out why, though. His teammates were getting along, which is only a good thing. Especially considering how they started things off way back on the helicarrier. But since when were Tony and Nat this cosy?"

Aka Steve is jealous of Tony and Nat's friendship, gets the wrong idea, and requires a little help from Nat herself to get some well-needed perspective.”

Admiring the Scenery by Annie D (scaramouche)

“Steve’s used to people checking him out, but when Tony does it, it feels… different.”

Symmetry Breaking by Annie D (scaramouche)

“After the Battle of New York, Steve rode off on his motorbike. That's how it went the first time.

This time he rides back, all the way to Stark Tower, where he asks Tony for help.”

MULTICHAPTERS FICS:

almeno tu nell'universo by silkspectred

“Tony drives off.

Well, he wants to.

But he can’t.

Because.

Steve Rogers is in front of his car.

Steve fucking Rogers. Is in front of Tony’s fucking car.”

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking

“He’s tired, so tired of waiting, tired of touches with no meaning, tired of holding his breath when Steve’s in the room, tired of keeping this love to himself.

“I can’t—I can’t, if you don’t mean it.”

***

Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.”

Thrust Issues by Sineala

“A battle gone wrong leads Tony to the unexpected and pleasant discovery that Steve is much more well-endowed than he could ever have imagined. But when Tony learns that Steve has never actually been able to sleep with anyone because of his size, Tony does what any good friend would do: he offers to relieve Steve of his virginity. Personally. Tony's determined, Tony's methodical, and Tony has a plan. He's going to get Steve laid. Tony just needs to make sure Steve never finds out that Tony's in love with him.”

Overhaul by Annie D (scaramouche)

“Steve knows that Tony has feelings for him and, since he doesn’t return those feelings, has been mildly dreading the day that Tony decides to do something about it. When that day finally arrives, Steve discovers that Tony’s wooing strategy isn’t anything at all like he’d expected.”

Whatever Makes You Happy by WilmaKins ( @wilmakins )

“Steve and his team never stopped Avenging. So when T'Challa tells them about strange events at the site of an ancient landmark, everything seems quite simple. Of course they'll help Shuri to investigate it - helping people is what they do, after all.

Until they discover that a race of alien empaths are harvesting human emotions as a source of power. Specifically, they're using the misery of one Tony Stark.

So, until they work out what's really going on, the fate of the world might depend on them keeping Tony happy.

Not simple. Not simple at all.

Set six months after CA:CW.”

a catalog of non-definitive acts by firebrands ( @firebrands )

“Tony's seen the way Steve watches him, trails after him just for a moment, then catches himself. Let it never be said that Tony Stark doesn’t pay attention. At least, when it matters.

Or, Steve, Tony, and the emotional fallout of keeping secrets. (Set in some nebulous time pre-AoU.)”

The Single Biggest Problem With Communication by BlossomsintheMist

“In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.”

Broken by livink ( @anthonyed )

“After Siberia, Tony Stark faces depression, a giant purple alien and a forced reunion. Ironically, he feels as if he's the only one who is broken in this journey. Until he comes across Barnes. Then, Bruce, Natasha and Wanda. Later, he realises that the man who broke him is broken too and this is a story where they heal and find their footings back.”

wonderland by Areiton

“Six weeks after being abandoned in Siberia, Tony wakes in a Tower, next to the man who broke his heart and his trust. But the world--whatever Wonderland world they’ve landed in--isn’t like their own. The Avengers are happy here. Tony and Steve are married here. With a direct line to Steve’s emotions and the team that he’s always wanted--Tony is more than a little tempted to stay. Seeing how happy Tony is, how healthy Bucky is--Steve doesn’t disagree. But there are cracks in Wonderland and the shiny paint peeling might leave a nightmare behind--one that Tony and Steve will need each other more than ever, to escape.”

when i run out of road, you bring me home by quidhitch

““Oh, I won’t bother you.” The tone of Steve’s voice implies that he definitely will be bothering Tony, aggressively and frequently. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep to my farm, you keep to yours. Solitude together.”

Tony opens his mouth to argue that that’s not how this works, but he snaps it shut at the realization that Steven Grant Rogers is fucking with him. That twinkle in his eye has accelerated into a full-on glimmer, and the ends of his lips are twitching. Jesus, he hates this man. Or maybe he wishes he did. Tony can’t really tell the difference anymore.”

Down in Lonesome Town by resurrectedhippo

“Tony eyes him. “Why do I always find my way back to you?”

Maybe he didn’t necessarily return to Steve, but fate is a funny little thing, and after living a life of loss, Steve wants something that’s his to keep. Tony deserves a love that’s unrestrained; Steve thinks he’ll erupt with it.

Love is messy, not easy, and takes work.

Maybe love feels like rage.

But maybe love could just be jumping off a rocky mountain and smiling anyway.

After the universe is restored, Steve is lost without any direction. Retiring from the Avengers, he moves across the country and ends up building a house by a misty blue lake. Across the bridge is Tony Stark’s new workshop.”

In the Stillness of Remembering by elise_509

“Steve Rogers is a reminder of a past that Tony Stark would rather forget. But when Steve’s own ghosts suddenly become the present, Tony finds he and Steve need each other to face the future.”

Good For You by orbingarrow

“Steve doesn't understand why Tony dates people who abuse him. Tony doesn't understand why Steve cares.

The rest is bad choices, good choices, rehab, milkshakes, paintball, YouTube videos, couples therapy and learning to put the past in the past. Or: How Tony finds his happy ending.”

SERIES:

Pulse-Point by itsallAvengers

Guys and Bots by Annie D (scaramouche)

AUTHORS:

I love very deeply each author of the fics I’ve listed, but these are the main blogs I follow here on tumblr who regularly post 1K (more or less) words fic:

@omg-just-peachy

@no-gorms

@maguna-stxrk

@natasharxmanov

@s-horne

@firebrands

@iam93percentstardust

@anthonyed

@ad1thi

@littlemissstark

@chirriko

@tinytonysnark

(Plus self-spam: MrsWinterBreath , my own ao3 profile!)

Lastly, check @sabrecmcstonyficrecs blog by @sabrecmc who is not only an extremely talented writer themself, but also incredibly patient and kind enough to offer masterposts with fics about any Stony trope you could ever think of!!!

This is a non-exhaustive list because there are a LOT more authors out there that deserve their works to be read, so I suggest you giving it a chance even to fics and authors you’ve never heard of, you might find a masterpiece without even realising it!!!!

And most importantly: always leave a kudos and comment if you liked what you read, this way I guarantee you the authors will be more than happy to keep on providing you with amazing works!!!!

#stony #stony fic #stony fanfiction #stevetony #stevetony fic #stevetony fanfiction #steve x tony #tony x steve #superhusbands #iron man #captain america #tony stark #steve rogers #stony fic rec #stevetony fic rec

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