#I'd have more words to say but my body and mind are failing me particularly bad this evening orz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maesphantoms · 1 year

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Sunset (Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood. Typical COD violence. Guns, knives, explosions.

Genre: Pure angst…like just so much pain

Word count: 2,445

This was partly inspired by a certain character’s death in Grey’s Anatomy, I won’t say who because I know there’s at least one person who hasn’t seen it and really wants to/is in the process of getting to that episode.

It all started after a particularly hard mission, a mission where you had to get wasted to even hope to get the images out of your mind to sleep. You randomly remembered that there are biodegradable urns that have tree seeds in them.

"And when I told my cousin, he goes 'Do they have walnut? That way, one day if my grandkids are eating them, someone can say they're eating Grandpa's nuts?' And it just made me die laughing."

"Do they?" Soap asked, eagerly. Gaz simply roared with laughter while Ghost and Price chuckled.

"No, sadly. I looked everywhere. But, I did find that you can become a coral reef."

"Is that what you'd want, a coral reef?" he asked, earnestly.

"No..." You paused, taking a swig of your drink. "No, I think... I think I'd want to be buried on a hill. A hill with a gorgeous view. Facing the west... So I can always watch the sunset."

That's about all you remember of that night, other than the drinking contest you quickly got into with Soap and Gaz. Price and Ghost simply sat back and watched, smoking their respective cigars and cigarettes. You certainly got everyone's minds off the horror you all had faced that day. Even Ghost no longer had the screams echoing in his mind as he sipped his bourbon. it was just one of the nights the men were grateful for your presence.

Something you'd never let them know is how terrified you were that they would have to utilize that information. You didn't want to put the burden of having to deal with your death and body on them. The day you would eventually die was coming, you know that. Your luck would eventually run out, everyone does. You've seen your fair share of soldiers KIA'd. The look on their squad's face as they hauled the limp body always filled you with dread. You just hoped that if you did die on the field, your body couldn't be found so that you would never imagine that picture of dread on your squad mates’ faces. Especially the image of Price feeling like he failed you.

This always ran through your mind as you prepared for missions. It wasn't until you were active in the field that your more soldier, focused mindset would take over. You did your best to hide the nerves, but it's hard to disguise your shaking when you got into the plane or helicopter or whatever your mode of transportation would be that day. It was worthless, you knew that, but just the mental picture of everyone’s despair as they covered your body in that damn cloth... No, you wouldn't let that happen.

“Okay, we’re nearly there. We’ll split into 2 teams. Each team goes to a separate floor, then once your floor is clear we meet and go to the basement. Ghost and Owl are top floor. Gaz and Soap, you're with me on the first. This is a hostage rescue so check fire. If you run into any cartel, well.. You know what to do.” Price stood by the door to the plane, holding onto the webbing. “Alejandro and his team are at the other compound, we all attack at the same time.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you could feel your hands shaking as you gripped your rifle tighter. Closing your eyes, you mentally pictured the blueprints of the compound you all were looking at before you left. Alejandro informed you all about the village taken hostage to be forced to work for some cartel, clearly trying to become a notable rival for Valeria. Foolish. You were sure Valeria was keeping a close eye on today. No matter how this ends, she would be one foe down.

Ghost lightly knocked his knee into yours. He knew your jitters would settle once you touched solid ground, but he always tried to pull you out of your mind. Now, he never knew exactly why you did this. Clearly, the preemptive guilt that was permeating from your pores didn't carry across your face, just the nervousness. You would gladly die to protect your small band of brothers.

And just like that, the plane settled and the tremors that wracked your system came to a stop. Ghost watched your face harden into the familiar look of focus and determination he was used to seeing on the field. With one last look, Price and his team ran to the compound. If it could even be called that. The blueprints were old, you knew that, but you didn't expect to see how in disrepair the building was. The walls that once surrounded it had crumbled away long ago, riddled with bullet holes. You could see that the building itself wasn't much better. Entire rooms had already collapsed. One such room provided the two of you with an easy route to the top floor rather than the original plan of running to the stairs inside.

With a tap on Ghost’s shoulder, you pointed to the rubble. He nodded and you both ran towards it. Your ears were helping scope out any noise other than the occasional scuffle of more of the building falling. You two had to be quick if any more of this gave way. In the back of your mind, you pictured their faces again, holding your lifeless body.

“Do you see anything, Gaz?” Price asked over comms.

“No, sir. They must all be upstairs.”

Ghost nodded at you before pulling himself up to the room above, you following suit. The sunlight was just enough to let you see that the room was the remains of a classroom. There were cubbies in the corner and smeared on the chalkboard was the alphabet. Your blood felt like ice. There were children here. At one point or another. Once again, you steadied yourself as you joined Ghost at the door.

He held up his fingers, 3, 2, 1. Slowly, you opened the door and held up your rifle. The door opened up into a hallway. You knew from the blueprints that either end of the hallway lead into another one. The U-shaped building seemed to have the same layout at least, even if it was decrepit. The classroom was closer to the right side, so Ghost pointed for you to take that side while he took the left. This wasn't unusual to you, it was faster to clear this way. Ghost could clear his side and meet you on yours as his legs were longer than yours, and his stride was quicker.

“Price, there's people in here.” Soap’s voice on comms made you jump in the eerily quiet hallway as you slowly headed towards the next door. Why were you so jumpy? Something on the edge of your mind told you you were in danger. Of course, you were in danger, look at where you were.

As you opened the door, you heard a faint scream then Soap’s voice, attempting to be soothing. Leading with your gun, you look around the room and only saw desks and turned-over chairs. Clear. You could see another room before the corner. Same procedure. Walk over, open door. This one was empty, the daylight shining off the dirty floors. It looked like there was dried blood on the floor. Clear. Going back into the hallway, you turned the corner and saw 3 more rooms.

The first room had a long conference table in it and every window was smashed. Clear. Second, a single chair and more dried blood. Clear. The downstairs team worked to get the hostages out of the building, Price calling backup as there were more than Alejandro predicted.

“Left side, clear. There were a few cartels up here. Owl?” Ghost grumbled.

“I'm opening the last door now. Everything’s been empty, so far. They must have hidden them all downstairs and left guards.” Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, “Wonder how Alejandro’s is.”

Taking one step into the room, you were greeted with a horrific sight. 10 children, all huddled together at the back of the room. A man stood in front of them with a sickening smile. He held a button in his hands. You raised your gun at him.

“Fuck, there's kids he-” You were cut off as he hit the button, and you were thrown back.

The explosion violently shook the building. The downstairs team had just walked out with their last hostage who whipped out a knife and stabbed a small woman as soon as he heard the boom. Gaz immediately shot him. Then hysteria burst out of everyone. The woman screamed then cut off into a gurgle before falling silent. The remaining men and women began screaming and crying. Price immediately began yelling for you and Ghost. Then the right side of the building shuddered with another explosion before collapsing.

“Bloody fucking hell! Owl! She's on that side!” Ghost yelled, coughing from the dust that engulfed the entire floor. Price felt a small wave of relief at his voice to be taken over with panic.

You felt heat. Heat and pain. Your head swam, trying to understand what was happening. Distantly, you heard yourself talking about urns and nuts. Then you heard Gaz’s voice.

“Who do you think would cry the most at your funeral?” He grinned.

“Hmm... Probably Ghost.” You pointed to the man who glared back. “I feel like he's a big softie. Deep down.”

“Very deep down.” He scowled before taking another drag of his cigarette, his mask pulled up to his nose.

“Exactly.” You laughed. “And I think Soap would be next, but he'd try to fight it. I mean look at him, all macho and Scottish.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He raised his hands, offended.

“No idea, just had to get a dig in.”

Smoke billowed out of the campfire and into your face. Your lungs burned. You couldn't feel your legs as the laughs fade. Then you could hear voices again. Distant, panic-stricken voices. There was massive pressure on your abdomen and legs. Fuck, everything hurt.

“Can you see her?”

“No..”

“Keep looking, we need to find her before it completely collapses, the fire is moving fast.”

Your eyes finally came back to you, but your vision blurred and spun. Then you could feel control come back to your arms. One was trapped under whatever pressed against you. As you finally broke free of the stupor, a blood-curdling scream was ripped from your throat. Pain was everywhere. Nothing was worse than your abdomen. Looking down, you could see why as blood began to fill your mouth. Fear took over.

“Owl, can you hear me?!”

“Ghost...” You could bring your voice to louder than a whisper. Looking around, all you could see was rubble and smoke. The crackle of flames was somewhere around you. The large slab of concrete on you kept you from moving. Tears began to fall down your face.

“Owl!” He yelled again before pressing the button on his chest again. “Price I can't find her, do you guys see anything?”

Price, Soap, and Gaz dug through the rubble on the ground floor. Smoke billowed out from the broken windows and holes in the building.

“More children... Keep looking.”

You brought your hand to your chest and pressed it, hoping they could hear you that way. “Help...” Was all you could whimper out. You couldn't think rationally past the fear and pain. You didn't want to die, of course not. You just wanted the pain to stop. Quiet sobs began to wrack your broken body, burning your lungs as you sucked more smoke in. All this did was bring more pain.

“Owl! Can you move?” Price demanded.

“No.” Your breath was coming in gasps.

“What can you see?” Gaz attempted to make his voice calm.

Looking around again, you tried to find something that would help them. There had to be something other than concrete. Your gun lay a couple of inches away from you, broken in half. Bringing your hand to your chest, you felt a flare still strapped to you. Turning your head to the right, you could faintly see sunlight through the smoke. An opening.

“Flare. I have..a flare. I can see...outside.”

“Good, use it. Tell us where you are.”

As you ignited and the red light surrounded you, you felt the concrete press further into you as the building shifted again. Another scream. Hopelessness.

Ghost could faintly see a red light through the black smoke. Your scream echoed around him. His heart was racing as he climbed down, slowly. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Your blood was staining the concrete around you. He couldn't see your legs, not that he'd want to anyway. You weren't making it out of here. He could tell.

“I found her.” He felt tears in his eyes.

The sight of Ghost gave you a small spark of hope that immediately fizzled out as he kneeled by you, tears in his eyes. He took the flare and threw it through the opening you could see. Dread. Guilt.

“We see the flare, hold on tight, Owl. How's she look?”

Ghost stared at you. You nodded. “Not good, Captain.” Your tears pick up speed, but your sobs stop.

“I'm sorry.” You needed to tell them, at least once. He shook his head, grabbing your hand. His hands held it so gently.

The end was near. The pain started to slip away.

“A hill.” You whispered. He nodded.

“Facing the west.” He finished.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure in the opening. The smoke started to dissipate as he was joined by two others. The sky behind them was a warm pink. Sunset.

“Lots of flowers.” You were leaving faster than you wanted to.

The other 3 joined you and Ghost. Their hands were on your other arm, trapped under the slab.

“I'm so sorry.” They all shook their heads at you,

“You have nothing to apologize for, Owl. We should've been more careful.” Price’s voice was thick with grief.

You smiled at them before looking at the sky, slowly turning a dark purple.

And so you took your last breath, your smile fading like the lights in your eyes.

They did what you wanted. A hill facing the west. You had the best view, surrounded by so many flowers. They came to visit all the time, always bringing a drink for you as they filled you in on what you missed or as they reminisced. Visiting you was always bittersweet. They missed you. They still miss you.

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kitkatpadywaks · 6 months

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The Start Of Something New.

Part 9 Of La Mechancete De La Vie.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 895

A/N: It's Back! I had this chapter in my drafts for months and just finalised it so I could post it. I will finally be writing new chapters for this story for the first time in 7 months- I initially tried to force myself to continue it at the time but instead burnt myself out (hence why this instalment is so short).

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Life's power booms. The surge is felt across the entirety of the universe, every realm and by all beings and people alike. Each entity, from Heaven to Hell, from Time and Night, and their Endless children, feel Life's power. They all look to the source, to the Void, and shiver.

Except for Dream of the Endless, he merely smiles sadly at the familiar feel of his lover, silently wishing her luck in her endeavours, whatever they are.

Life smiles as she walks across a field of lush green grass, brightly lit despite the black Void swirling above it. Her arms extend, and another burst of power explodes from her body, and flowers, plants and trees, never seen in creation, sprout at the edge of the field and expand as far as the eye can see.

The immortal beings of the universe shiver again, wondering, terrified, what Life is up to.

Destiny looks through his book, finding nothing, much to the irritation of the Kindly Ones, whose conversation Life interrupted with her demonstration of power.

Life laughs with glee, "I did it. I did it!" She jumps around, coming to a stop when she realises she's alone, her mood souring slightly. She ponders on the decisions she has made since her imprisonment, annoyed that, in a way, she's still playing by the rules made by the beings who want to see her fail.

Old habits die hard. Life supposed. But what could she do? Realistically, anything. But at what cost?

She could continue to play by the rules or make her own. Life is leaning towards the latter, as following theirs had already cost her a relationship with the one she loves.

Life freezes, the realisation making her mind race. I love him. Fuck. I love him.

Her mood sours even more as she thinks about how they left things and how to fix them. Though- she supposed she already knew how to fix it. But how much would change? Did she care about the inevitable repercussions she would have to deal with from the Kindly Ones and Destiny?

No, not particularly.

She feels a strange pull in her being, confusing her until flapping wings reach her ears.

So that's what it feels like when someone enters my realm.

"Hello, Matthew." She lifts her hand slowly, a tree growing from the ground next to her, stopping at her shoulder so the raven will be eye to eye with her when he lands on one of the three branches.

"Hey, Life. How you doin'?"

Life smiles at the raven as he shuffles awkwardly on the branch, eyeing the purple leaves attached to it. "I'm well. What brings you to my realm?"

"Your realm? Is this what all those bursts of power were for? To make your own realm?"

"Yes. Why? What did people think it was?"

"The end of existence."

Life laughs at that, the veins in the purple leaves glowing gold in response to its creator's amusement. Life looks at Matthew fondly, "You didn't answer my question, Matthew. Why are you here?"

"Boss has gone to have dinner with his siblings, and I was bored, so I thought I'd see what you're up to. And I was just wondering when you and the boss will make up." Matthew shuffles around and bows his head, feeling like he overstepped some boundaries. "He's been... upset since you left."

Life hums and clenches her fists, letting a beat of silence sit as she figures out what she wants to say, "I've been somewhat set in my ways, Matthew."

He looks at her confused, wondering where she's going with this, "How'd you mean?"

"I've changed so much over the years, and yet I still... I'm still abiding by rules that don't apply to me. I'm not sure what I'm doing, to be honest."

"What happens if you don't play by the rules?" The raven tilts his head.

"Certain beings will attempt to tell me off." Life smiles in amusement, knowing, as annoying as it would be, it wouldn't make a difference in what she does.

The raven stares at her, "Seems like you already know what you want to do."

Life nods and smiles at him, "I do. You're a good listener, Matthew. You're welcome to stay in my realm as long as you wish."

"Oh, thank you, my Lady." Matthew awkwardly bows, making Life chuckle.

"There's no need for that, Matthew."

"Right, okay, sorry. Oh."

Life raises an eyebrow at the raven, suddenly understanding what's wrong when she senses a second presence within Matthew.

"Boss is back." Matthew groans, "And wondering where I am."

The corner of Life's lips tilts up into a small smile, amused and unbothered as she has already blocked Dream's sight of her, allowing Matthew to choose to tell Dream about his visit.

Matthew sighs, "I should probably go. It was good seeing you, Life."

Life smiles fully this time, "And you, Matthew. You're always welcome in my realm. Visit any time you like."

"T-Thank you."

Matthew flaps his wings and takes to the sky, wanting to leave as quickly as possible so he doesn't have a chance to embarrass himself, knowing full well that if he could blush, he would have.

My realm. Life smiles at the thought, letting her power build once more. What should I add next?

Thanks for reading!

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus sandman #sandman #sandman netflix #the sandman x fem!reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #lord morpheus #fanfic

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fluffyfantasticducky · 2 years

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Not how I Hoped this’d Turn Out

SORRY I SAID I'D POST ANOTHER THING MAYBE ON FRIDAY BUT I GOT A MINOR BLOCK HERE IT IS!

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki should know better than attacking an inventor in their invention lab, especially when they were working on magnetic cuffs that could leave him stuck and helpless.

☆ Word Count: 5,000 exactly... wow.

☆ Notes: Lee!Loki. Part 2 of The God’s Little Secret. I always see fics of Loki getting revenge and while I LOVE that trope (personally I recommend this trilogy fic by @writingfics-passingtime and these two fics by @just-another-blog-of-fluff both write just masterpieces and are one of the main reasons I returned to write and post myself)... I want it to blow up in his face for a change. Next one he will get revenge, I promise... maybe lol.

☆ Warnings: Loki is restrained (rather unwillingly but deservedly)? I know it's k¡nky for some people but it's not what I'm going for.

It had been a few weeks since the track course incident and Loki’s mind was on the edge. Every time he walked in a room where giggles were coming out, he could feel his own body tensing up, or when he saw you in a particularly amusing conversation his mind feared that you’d be talking about what had happened.

But… he couldn’t say he was mad at you. It hadn’t been your fault that he got stuck —as much as he would love to blame you—, you had spent a good while trying to help him out… And… he could easily say he hated being tickled, he was the God of Mischief, the liar trickster after all. Yet, deep down he knew it had been the most fun thing that had happened to him since he moved in.

Still, he couldn’t let you believe you had the upper hand, that he was some soft pushover like his brother than anyone you could mess up with. He was the God of Mischief, terrorizer of New York only a decade ago, of a race of monsters that inspired fear in the heart of those around him.

It was clear what had to be done. He needed to get revenge. And what better than giving you a taste of your own medicine?

It was no secret that you were ticklish, Tony often took the liberty to poke you around whenever you were zoning out to bring your attention back to whatever he was saying. Steve and Bruce would do the same if you took tinker and garbage to the table whenever they were just relaxing as a way to persuade you of taking them away and just relax. Bucky and Thor would often tickle you to tears as well, Bucky because you pushed his buttons often by tickling him yourself until he caved and got his revenge, and Thor… was just Thor.

It was just a matter of time. You had the decency to not bring up his own sensitivity to light, so he could offer you the same courtesy and not tickle you to tears with an audience. And so, Loki waited, talking normally to you for the next days, waiting for the perfect chance to strike, needing to guarantee you’d be alone for enough time for him to execute his vengeance. Joining you more to learn your schedule, at the expectancy of the day when he’d have you to himself.

“Loki, I’m gonna watch The Princess Bride tonight.” You chimed in one night, “if I recall, you haven’t watched that one, wanna join me?”

Perfect, the lounge room was far from the most transited areas and there was no bonding movie night scheduled until the weekend so no one would bother you.

“If you insist” Loki shrugged.

“Cool, it’s a bit embarrassing though, the movie is silly but The Princess Bride’s gotta be one of my favorite mov—”

“Did I hear correctly?!” Wanda quipped from the door, “You’re watching The Princess Bride?! Can Vis and I join you?! I’ve been trying to get him to watch it for weeks now!”

“Ah… s-sure…” you mumbled, before forcing some energy in your demeanor, “The more the merrier, right Loki?”

And just like that his perfect plan was ruined. In his own frustration, he failed to see the deflected look in your eyes as Wanda pushed you to the lounge room to watch the movie.

Loki made constant snarky comments, throughout the movie that made you laugh but he had to admit the movie was entertaining enough given the light-hearted genre, being —as you called it— self-aware enough of its limitations and made the jokes somewhat enjoyable… or rather, it was nice to hear you giggle at each one of them. You also would often look at him to see his reaction, which he would correspond with a smile and a nod of approval that made you smile proudly. He also noticed how you would constantly eye Wanda and Vision who were cuddling happily on the other side of the couch, almost longingly, and then return your attention to the movie, wrapping your arms around you, as if hugging yourself.

The movie night wasn’t a complete waste of time, given he heard the original Avengers, Barnes, and Wilson had a meeting with some government higher-ups the next morning and would be gone all day and Wanda would take Vision on a date, so when he casually asked your plans you responded you’d be working all day in the lab.

Perfect.

With Stark and Banner out of the building, Peter in classes, and no visit from the Wakandian royalty, you were the only person who would stick around the lab… all day. It was perfect.

The next morning he greeted you at breakfast and you informed that you’d be all day at the lab as you served yourself a mug of coffee bigger than your head. He nodded, responding he’d be reading in the library in case you wanted to take a break. And so you parted ways after eating, or so you thought… because little did you know Loki had concealed his presence to follow you to the lab and just as he expected, you had been the only person, listening to those cheesy songs that always made you dance while working around in the empty room, Loki couldn’t help but hesitate and consider delaying his revenge just so he could watch you like this a little longer.

But he had made up his mind and if Loki was one thing, was stubborn. He sneaked into the lab and waited for you to turn around, to attack you the second you turned your back on him. And you did, focusing your attention to the table with a bunch of scrap and tools to continue your work, with your back facing the door was when Loki decided to strike.

He moved with great agility and speed as only he could do to be behind you and right when he had his hands just inches from your sides…

“AAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

CLINK! CLINK! CLANG! WHAM!

Loki couldn’t see what had happened until it was too late. You had apparently noticed him right in time and in a swift motion, he didn’t even think you capable of you had thrown two big metal rings that automatically adjusted to the size of his wrists and flung him a metal clothesline pole behind him, leaving his arms above his head.

“What the fuck, Loki?!” you protested, with a hand over your chest trying to pace your breathing, “Why would you do that?!”

“Me?! You’re the one who attacked me!”

“I attacked you?! You almost gave me a heart attack, I’m the victim here!”

“You?! Look at me!” he snapped back tugging his wrists, internally concerned but impressed that didn’t feel them budge. “What even is this?!”

“Those are throwing cuffs, they’re only for containing prisoners for interrogation and stuff. So far we can only use it here in the compound and the Quinjet since they’re made of and to stick only to Vibranium… But I’m working on some updates to hopefully use in a real bat—”

Your little speech was interrupted by a soft chuckle from the god who looked amusedly at how quickly your anger had vanished to ramble about your invention.

“Why am I even explaining this to you?! You tell me what you were you trying to do here!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything! Unhand me!”

Loki was known for his smooth use of words, the way he could charm armies against him and woo ladies with purely his silver-tongue… this… was not a good example of that, because the only thing he did was trigger a suspicion within you, and now you were dead set on getting answers.

“Tell me, or else—”

“Or else what, little mouse?”

He was confident in the fact that you were known for your sense of mercy and exceeding gentleness.

When you were starting your training combats it took Thor and Hulk an awful lot of convincing that it was alright to punch them or use any offensive move against them and that it would not harm them in any way, and it took, even more, to consider fighting the regular humans… except for one particular redhead that even Loki feared in a hand to hand. You wanted to be a hero and you had the potential to be a great fighter and definitely, you were working hard to be, but your strength wasn’t on hurting others so torturing the answer out of him was out of the question. He had the upper hand.

Or so he thought. Too focused on that fact to remember you were not above…

“Or else I’ll tickle it out of you.” …other methods.

“What?!”

“You heard me” you grinned. “You can tell me now and we’ll see from there or I can tickle the answer out of you.”

“You can’t be serious” Loki scoffed.

“Oh but I am…” you smiled deviously, “it was so much fun the last time, I wouldn’t mind repeating.”

Loki sucked in a breath, considering his options, he couldn’t tell you the truth without you dishing out the same punishment, and if he lied and you didn’t fall for it —no, if you didn’t feel satisfied with his answer— then you would still…

“Time’s up!” you giggled as you shot your fingers to his sides scribbling over the spot, effectively sending Loki into a giggle fit.

“Hehe-hey! D-dohohohon’t do thahat!”

Curse him for choosing lighter clothing today, if he had trouble the last time when he was wearing his full-on armor, having just the light robes and the long leather Asgardian gilet did very little to protect him given you could and did simply sneak your hands past it.

Loki let out an undignifying yelp before bursting into giggles when your hands traveled up to under his arms making him redouble his efforts to try breaking free. But no matter much he tugged and pulled the cuffs were not budging… in other circumstances, impressive, right now, a nightmare.

But he had no time to elaborate when you made a comment that made his blood pressure go through the roof.

“You know Loki, last time I didn’t get to tickle your tummy” you smiled, “I’m quite eager to see now.”

Your eyes had no tease, no devilish glint, nothing but playful curiosity. And in this circumstance that was the most dangerous thing to have you feeling.

“N-no!” he protested, “Don’t you dare! I– I will–”

“Please say squeal like a little girl” you chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am a god, and I would noOOOT! HEHEHEHEHEY!”

The sound coming out of the Asgardian made his face heat up to a dark red color which at least he had the advantage that at this point it was impossible to tell if it was because of his frenetic laughter, his embarrassment own or because the one from the adoring look in your face as you undid him.

“Gohohosh Loki, you’re the cutest thing” you chuckled.

You still couldn’t believe your eyes, Loki was always frowning and looking annoyed at everything around him, his only smiles were sarcastic and sly so now, having him here and with the brightest and genuine smile pouring giggles like a toddler still seemed like a dream.

“GEHEHET YOUR HAND OHOHOUT OF THERE!” he whined when your hands experimented on the lower stomach, occasionally pinching the sides of his belly.

“Oh, come on” you giggled, “this spot is really cute, can’t you stand it just a bit longer?”

“YOHOHOU’LL REGREEEEEET TH-THIS NOHOHOHO IHIHIHI WILL ACK NAHAHA!”

“I don’t know Loki,” you teased him, “you keep threatening but you don’t cooperate.”

You moved a bit lower, scribbling right above his waistline and his reaction became far more hysterical, his laughter became frantic and loud, and his movements became frantic, shaking his head and stomping his foot on the ground over and over as if that would’ve helped to dissipate the sensations.

You couldn’t help but laugh along.

“STOHOHOP STOP ST!” he protested as a cough left his mouth with the laughs.

That had been enough cue for you to stop immediately and he dropped his weight, relying on the restrains to keep him in place.

“You good there?” you asked concerned for a moment, but something in you decided to not let him go so easily, “I don’t suppose you are going to answer my question now, will you?”

He shook his head, refusing to admit defeat to such a childish form of torture. Or perhaps, curiosity itched him to know what you would do then.

“Fine… F.R.I.D.A.Y. care to illuminate?” you asked playfully.

“Of course” the voice responded, on what Loki could’ve sworn was an amused tone.

The computer behind you lit up with the video footage of when Loki had peaked in the room to see the little dance party you had had alone earlier which made him chuckle at your now blushing face.

“It’s quite endearing that you think that’s dancing” he chuckled.

“No one asked for your opinion” you groaned. “There’s a good reason why I only dance alone.”

“Yes, clearly”.

“Fri, can we skip this a bit?” you asked annoyedly.

The video sped up to when Loki rushed into the room and the image froze right before you had trapped him. Showing Loki standing behind you with his hands hovering over the back of your sides shaped like claws. Loki could see in your face that you were quickly putting the pieces together in your mind, resulting in the image of a devious smirk.

“You were trying to tickle me” you concluded.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he muttered. Beep! “Wh—”

“Remember that I said these were also for interrogation?” you smiled proudly.

“A lie detector?” Loki chuckled, “Aren’t you too old to be playing with science-fiction?”

“Not when bringing it to reality is part of your job,” you said, trying to ignore the blush that dusted your cheeks, “Aren’t you too old to be setting up tickle attacks?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, love; I’m the God of Mischief” Loki replied, “it’s part of my job.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that working out for you?” you chuckled.

Oh, how he wished you wipe that cheeky grin off your pretty face.

“Mortal, I suggest you not to cross me—”

“The consequences are deadly, yeah, yeah.” You shrugged uninterested. “I’ve heard the speech before, now, how about we see if you can take what you were trying to dish out. But you know what? No, I’m gonna keep tickling you until you say you’re sorry.”

“You’re not serious.” Loki hissed.

“Try me” you irked him by poking his rib.

“I’m a god I don’t apologize to mortals like yourself!”

“Man, you keep saying that and I just keep proving you wrong” you teased him, “No wonder why you got stuck in like the 5thcentury BE with that mentality.”

“You insolent little bAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHA!”

Keeping your habit of not letting him finish his threats, you had shot your hands to his ribs and began scribbling his upper ribs, kneading in between the lower ribs caused him to yelp and protest shouting insults.

“Not nice being so rude, Loki Doki” you teased him, “what kind of things do they teach princes in Asgard?”

“DOHOHON’T CALL ME THAHAHAHAT YOU—!”

“Alright, that’s it!” you threatened him as you shot your hands up to his underarms.

The poor god immediately went back to the kicking legs frenzy, kicking his legs try and squirming as much as he could. But once again the limited motion played against him when you simply walked behind him and pulled him into a hug to continue tickling his armpits.

“STOHOHOHOP IT!”

“No-uh!” you giggled as you wriggled your fingers on the center of his armpits, causing Loki to drop his weight on the cuffs to bend over forward.

That gave him an advantage given he got away enough from you for a moment, so it bought him time to catch to breathe. But your mind remembered a particular detail that if Loki had considered, would’ve made him eat his pride and give it up…

“Ready to apologize?”

“I-In your dreams…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Just remember that I offered you an out” you smiled.

You stretch your arms once again but this time you remained behind him, scribbling your fingers over his back, gently scratching over his spine.

“YOU C— ACK! NAHAHA!”

“It would all be so simple if you weren’t so proud” you sighed pityingly. “It’s almost as if you liked this.”

“ZIP IT, YOU OAF!” he screamed.

He felt your hands stop for a second, but Loki wasn’t stupid, nor he had just met you. He turned around to see that thoughtful gaze of yours, the one you had whenever you were thinking. And soon… that smile, that smile meant trouble.

“You know I never got to see if your knees were ticklish last time” you grinned.

“Oh no, no, no, NO!”

“Are you apologizing?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Better for me” you chuckled.

You lowered to scribble over the back of his knees, making him yell at the top of his lungs, clearly he did not expect it to be such a bad spot for him.

“GEHEHET OUT OF THEHEHERE!”

“Apologize!” you laughed.

“FORGEHEHET IT!”

You gave an experimenting squeeze to the back of his thighs.

“HAHAHAHA S-STOP!”

“You know what I want to hear, Loki Doki.” You teased him in a sing-song voice as you used one of your hands to tickle the center of his lower back.

Finally, he cracked.

“F-FINE! I’M SOHOHORRY!”

Just as quickly as this whole ordeal had started it was over once those two words left his lips. He was left to catch his breath while you turned around to your desk and shuffled through your stuff.

Loki could barely keep his head high enough to look at you when you gasped out a “Here it is!” and pulled a little piece of little hollow metal plaque that illuminated into a translucid screen in your hands with a big red button that you pressed dramatically.

Normally, Loki would’ve made a sarcastic remark about you being immature or ridiculous. But he realized he didn’t have the energy for it the worst way possible: his body caved into his weight the second the cuffs opened. He didn’t think he’d be this exhausted.

“Shit!”

But you didn’t let him fall, you rushed to him, and with that humble strength, you had you caught him and held him as you could, clumsily maneuvering to throw his arm over you to serve him as a crutch.

“I guess I underestimated how ticklish you are, heh…” you joked awkwardly, earning a little frown from the tired God. “Um… Sorry.”

He stayed silent as you helped him walk through the building and to the elevator, once out you guided him to the main living room and lowered him to the biggest couch.

“Stay here,” you said gently. “I’ll get you some water.”

Truthfully, Loki had recovered mostly during the elevator ride, but it was cute to see the effort you were putting to tend for him. He peaked over the back of the couch to get a better look at you. You had served a huge glass of water with ice, and a plate with a pile of your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Loki laid back down when he saw you grabbing everything to go back to him. He saw you place the cookies on the coffee table before offering him a hand to help him sit up, and keeping the act, Loki accepted it to sit down and receive the glass of water.

“Sorry if I overdid it…” you mumbled. “I guess I got carried away…”

You kind and precious thing. If anyone knew something about taking things too far, that was the god who trying to make his father proud killed his progenitor. But seeing you so nervous was amusing to let slide.

“You should know better than to take advantage of someone helpless,” he said sipping from the glass to hide that he couldn’t find any bite in his tone.

“Hehelpless?!” you barked out a laugh snatching the glass from his hands to place it on the table. “You are a lot of things but helpless is not one of them! And you basically asked for it!”

Perhaps all the laughing from earlier got to him but Loki had a hard time holding back a smile at the adorable shade of pink creeping up your cheeks.

“Darling, you torture me for hours and now you dare tarnish my good name, you should be ashamed,” he said dramatically.

“Oh, I’ll show you torture!” you growled playfully and tackled him to knead his sides.

This time, having full motion you were only able of getting a few breathy laughs out of him before his hands were on your wrists, pushing you away from his torso.

“Ihi think that’s been enough for a day” he laughed softly, and you nodded sheepishly.

“Come here” you offered gently tapping your lap.

He looked at you confused until he remember you often did this with the others. When they came back overwhelmed from a mission or a bad diplomatic event, you’d do everything in your power to make them feel better. From baking something sweet to eat, caressing their hair, or simply listening to the drained one rant about it while you cleaned their wounds if necessary. Loki had always declined these recovery interventions of yours besides maybe stealing a cookie or two when he arrived and left for his room, feeling like he couldn’t let his guard down in front of anyone… why if he hadn’t accepted in more extreme circumstances being tickled was what it took for him to accept? He would never know. But he just rested his head on your thighs and soon felt your fingers running through his hair.

He could barely restrain the delighted sounds he could feel bubbling in his chest at your touch, but apparently, he couldn’t completely conceal his enjoyment.

“It’s a shame you don’t smile more often” you sighed happily, “you look beautiful when you smile.”

He opened his eyes to look at you and felt a warm surge within him at the sight of you, your eyes open like plates and your face red as a cherry.

“Do I?” he grinned.

“Well, yeah…”

“What else do you love about me?” he teased you.

“Love is a strong word” you mumbled before a devilish grin tugged the corners of your lips, “but your laugh is really pretty too.”

Loki frowned at you as he felt his cheeks warming up. You giggled before your expression softened again.

The two of you chatted for who knows how long, but the sun had set, time flew by talking about everything and nothing, from books and movies Loki had been forced to watch and his opinions, to how he felt living in the compund and lot of in betweeen.

But then he noticed your expression darken, making Loki sit back up a bit straighter.

“What’s the mater?”

“We cool?” you asked nervously.

Loki didn't even feel like masking the genuine endearment that surged within him as he smiled at you.

“Of course, darling. I—”

“Ah, young tinkerer, good to see you!” a familiar voice said from the doorframe, making Loki roll his eyes.

“Thor, hi!” you smiled casually.

“Brother?” Thor asked confused. “What were you doing—?”

Damn. Loki had lost sense of space, forgetting that other people lived here and could walk in on you whenever, and out of all people, clearly the most imprudent of them all.

“He helped me in the lab today!” you responded quickly. “Remember the special cuffs I’ve been working on? Loki is trying to help me to make them magic proof.”

“Wonderful, brother!” he said, “I offered my help too, I destroyed a couple of proto-tips myself until they managed to make them stronger.”

“Prototypes, Thor.” You giggled. “But yeah, Thor’s the reason I had to make them Vibranium since every other metal just… died.”

That explained why he couldn’t break free…

“It makes you quite stiff after a while, doesn’t it brother?”

It wasn’t hard for Loki to tell that the safest run was playing along, rather than explaining what had actually happened.

“I would say so.”

“Excellent, you rest by could join us, brother!” Thor suggested, “That way we could progress twice as fast with the list of movies we should watch!”

“And yet, we can barely make you grab a book that’s not in the pile of horror” Loki grumbled tiredly.

“Come on, Loki, it’ll be fun!” you suggested invitingly.

Whether you were aware of it or not, your eyes grew bigger, pleadingly looking at the young trickster. And maybe it was your concern for him earlier, maybe he wanted the chance to get you running your fingers through his hair again, or maybe he had lost his mind.

“Of course” he nodded lightly, “I’ll join you.”

“Great!” Thor smiled brightly.

“We could watch The Mask!” you suggested once your way to the lounge room, “They mention you in that one, Loki.”

“Me? Should I be concerned?” Loki asked, “Seeing the nonsensical stories your people have of me and my father’s horse.”

He felt rather pleased with himself at the sight of you and his brother laughing heartedly at his little joke. Mythological inaccuracies had been one of the biggest teasing sources for Loki and Thor since each joined the Avengers, how they all thought Loki had something to do with the procreation of Sleipnir or that Thor was a redhead.

“I’m still convinced that you are lying about that one, Odinson” you elbowed his side playfully, earning a chuckle from him. “It’s alright, you’ll admit it when you feel ready.”

“Darling, your lifetime will be over before I even give into admitting something that absurd.”

“So, you admit there’s something you’re not admitting!” you accused him as seriously as you could with little giggles coming out for you.

“Whahat?” Loki laughed, before lowering down to look at you right in the eye “you are truly delusional.”

“And you’re loving it” you smiled booping his nose.

Your little banter was interrupted by Thor’s rumbling laughter bringing you back to reality, making you blush and clear your throat to regain composure.

“Hey, I’ll go back for a bit to make pop-corns, you guys go ahead and set the movie, ‘kay? ‘Kay!”

And before any of them could protest you had rushed out through the hall. Leaving Loki alone to deal with his older brother, who was giving him the most teasy grin he had.

“What?” Loki asked dryly.

“It’s nice to see you in love, brother” Thor said innocently. “It’s been a while since I saw you flirting so carefree.”

“Brother, you are either stupid or blind.”

“Come on Loki, you’re not fooling anyone” Thor chuckled, “Everyone can tell you’re interested in her! Even the young Spiderling knows!”

“You’re all morons, I’m not surprised that you all would assume something like that.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Thor asked.

“She’s mortal, no matter how much she cleans her workspace it always messes up again, she only seems to wear unflattering oversized clothes, her face always seems to get stained with oil from her machinery and–”

“And yet you are completely infatuated” Thor chuckled. “Despite what you think of me, I’m not stupid.”

Thor patted Loki’s back and went ahead, leaving Loki stupefied in the middle of the hall. Could his brother be right?

None of the Avengers were particularly mean to Loki, they allowed him to live with them and he even had his own room and access to peak technology and budget to buy whatever he needed, after all. But Loki knew it was only because of the love Thor somehow still had for him. They still acted tense around him, they would often drop what they were doing if it was too distracting and keep an eye on him and would talk to him as formally as they talked to the dull bureaucrats that visited to complain about whatever. He seemed to be tolerated because of who his brother was… at best. Except for one person.

You always acted so warmly and friendly towards him, cracking jokes, inviting him over to the bonding activities, and just treating him as a friend in general, even when he acted cold, distant, or even aggressive in response… it wasn’t like he knew anything different. But that never pushed you away, you were still that bright and charming presence in his life. A very self-destructive part of him kept telling him it was purely out of pity, that behind his back you were making fun of him or trying to manipulate him.

But ever since that night you had proved him otherwise. Sure, you had tickled him half to death —twice now—, but the whole time it felt purely playful, your teases were innocent, and you didn’t laugh at him but with him. And about his own laughter, he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that much, it had been nice… It felt safe and… fun. Everything around you was fun.

But… love? Could it be that he, Loki the God of Mischief, the fallen prince, the terrorizer of Earth, who once saw the mortals as mere insects… could hebe in love, with a human?

“Loki, what are you doing here?” a voice called for him, at your sight he felt something stir within him, “Please tell me you didn’t let Thor go on his own, if he tries to set the movie we may need a new controller… again.”

The comment made him laugh softly.

“If we hurry we might be in time to spare it” you urged as you began walking to the lounge room.

Loki was about to make an excuse to avoid you and shake the growing uncertainty off his head, but before he could say anything you had grabbed his hand to pull him to the room, and the feeling of your hand on his shut him up.

…Oh, oh.

Your hand was warm and soft, contrasting his generally chilly touch and it sent a thrilling chill through his body. He didn’t have the will to tell make an excuse to go alone, every cell in his body was begging to have you close.

There was just a single thought on his mind the rest of the night, not about the movie, not about his surroundings, not of revenge, just you. He had it bad.

Next part | Masterpost

#marvel #marvel tickle #marvel tickles #marvel fluff #loki laufeyson #ticklish!loki #ticklish!reader #ler!reader #lee!loki #loki x reader #loki tickle #loki fluff #geek #ducky writes tickles

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu

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cosmicsierra · 3 years

Note

Oh I'd love to see the scenario you have for “I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you,” anyone else but you by moldy peaches, please?

thank you for the request anon! i was super excited to write this! here is some tech fluff :) only warnings are a club scene that includes light discussion of a lap dance. I hope you enjoy <3

prompts from songs that remind me of tech

Tech was a soldier. A soldier loyal to the Republic, created with an exceptional mind by the Kaminoans to be the brains of a team that worked together. He spent his time in his youth training to become more efficient and researching subjects all over the holonet on a datapad given to him by the Kaminoans, not to mention the research being done on him. Not only did he face strict testing and orders from the Kaminoans, but also throughout the Clone War.

In every part of his life, he has never been inclined to truly love anyone in a romantic way. He held love for his brothers, even when they teased him relentlessly and embarrassed him in public. Even more so, the clones encouraged him to partake in activities with various people spotted in bars. Wrecker even went as far as buying him a dance from a female Twi’lek who most clones longed after. Reminiscing on the memory, Tech cringed in real time. The Twi’lek sauntered over to him. Heads of clones turned his way, jealousy in the eyes of most. Not quite aware of what was happening until she took a seat on his lap, his eyes flicked to Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair confusingly, before finally settling on a laughing Wrecker.

The Twi’Lek grabbed his chin, tilting it up to look at her. He quietly informed her that he was not interested in partaking in such an act, and instead directed her toward Wrecker. She smiled, seeming to understand and accept the fact, and stood up to walk to Wrecker.

Hunter leaned over to him, “You refused an offer like that?” He spoke quietly under the music.

Tech shrugged, “I didn’t see anything in her.” His hands settled on his datapad. He intended to research why so many men lusted after female Twi’leks. Hunter sighed.

Tech flinched thinking of the memory, deciding instead to dwell on a more preferable memory. The first time he met you.

He wandered around the streets of Coruscant and searched for the library that the regs had told him about. Regrettably lost without his datapad, he relied on the spoken word to help him find the library of Coruscant. He longed to just go to the Jedi archives, however, clones were only permitted in certain areas of the temple and the archives were not one of those areas.

So, here he was, on a wild bantha chase in search of a place he began to think didn’t exist. As he was about to abandon the haste of the research about the planet the batch was on the way to next, he spotted the library. Matching the durasteel architecture of Coruscant, the library stood tall and mature. The building was nearly all glass and durasteel. Feeling a bit more inspiration, he picked up his pace toward the looming building.

While walking, his mind raced with just how much information could fit in that library. Although it was in no comparison to the holonet, it had been some time since he was able to enter a library, and he was eager at the thought.

The doors opened, revealing to Tech a large collection of books, holopad recordings, and so much more. The library was stories high and each floor was shaped similar to a square, with an empty section in the middle of each floor to look out at all of the other sections above and below.

As his eyes took everything the vast library had to offer beneath his helmet, he failed to notice the person approaching from behind.

“Hi there,” you waved politely, “is there anything specific you’re looking for today?” You held one arm with the other nervously.

Tech did not notice the introduction, instead still marveling in the wonder that is physical knowledge. Then, he felt a tap on his armor that nearly made him reach for his blaster. He whipped around only to be confronted by you.

If he hadn’t been rendered speechless by the stunning building, now he was a wreck. He watched as you scratched the back of your head, laughing softly, “Sorry, I really didn’t intend to scare you.”

He gazed at you, feeling a warmth in his stomach that he hadn’t personally felt before, but had studied after Wrecker said it was how the Twi’lek made him feel.

“Are you okay there buddy?” You asked, genuinely seeming concerned at this point. Your arms reached toward him, as he likely looked like he was about to faint.

“My apologies. When individuals find someone attractive, they often develop a strange phenomenon of ‘butterflies in the stomach’,” He watches as your eyes widen, showing interest, and continues, “This is a case of nerves or thoughts and feelings, which in turn end up compromising maximum performance. Evidently, as you just observed at the expense of my dignity.” Tech explained and laughed, then waited for your reaction. The feeling had not eased up any.

He watched you as your mind grinded gears. You crossed your arms and leaned to one side, “Are you saying you find me attractive? We’ve only just met!” You talked in hushed tones, chuckling a bit. “Anyways… what brings you here? I’ve never seen a clone in here.”

Tech smiled to himself under his helmet. “It appears that in a careless manner I have broken my datapad for the time being. I need to do some research on the planet my squad is heading to tomorrow.” The feeling in his stomach never left as you explained to him how to find information about planets and systems. Even when focused on the planet after you had left him to his own business, he felt as if he wanted to talk to you more.

He made sure to say farewell before leaving, although he returned to the library as soon as the batch came back from their mission a week later. His brothers had never seen him in such a hurry. Of course, by then, his datapad was fixed. That really left his brothers confused.

As Tech ran from the landing platform toward the streets of Coruscant, Echo called out to him, “Tech! You forgot your datapad!” He held it up in the air.

Hunter and Crosshair eyed the datapad suspiciously. That thing literally never leaves Tech’s side, where was he going without it? They shared a quizzical look with Echo. Soon, their attention was turned to Tech, who was already far, yelling back, “I won’t need it! Keep it safe!” He waved over his shoulder and continued in a run.

Before the end of the war as it raged on, Tech would wander to your Coruscant apartment or the library (wherever you were for the time of day or night), and you two would spend hours together. One night in particular, you asked him a question that he couldn’t answer.

Legs intertwined, your head on his shoulder and his arm cradling your head, Tech sighed contently. You looked up to him and asked what the long sigh was about. He dismissed your concern, telling you that he was at ease and relaxed.

“When the war is over, will you come to me?” Your question was sudden. The sound of your voice split through the room. It sounded small, nervous, and apprehensive. Tech had never considered the end of the war and what it meant for you two. Your relationship hadn’t been particularly closed off, but neither of you felt compelled to be with anyone else. The confirmation of an exclusive relationship was just never discussed.

He looked down to you and ran his hand through your hair. “I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you. Of course I’ll come to you. I’ll be here.” He planted a kiss on your forehead and hugged you to his body tightly.

masterlist

taglist: @incandescentlywarm @morgonjinn

#star wars tech #tech #tech x reader #bad batch x reader #bad batch tech #star wars bad batch #bad batch #star wars clone wars #star wars men #fanfic #x reader #tech tuesday

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ootori-sibs · 2 years

Text

The murder of Yoshio Ootori

Chapter two

Tw: character death, mentions of abuse, Haruhi being into older women

Sitting in a guest room in the main Souh mansion, Haruhi Fujioka had been recruited by a detective to help him solve the murder of Yoshio Ootori. This helping seemed a lot more like note-taking to Haruhi as she sat in her chair quietly as the detective questioned the newly orphaned Kyoya Ootori.

"I find it interesting, Kyoya," the detective started, speaking calmly to his witness, "that you answer my questions as if you would prefer it if the investigation didn't go ahead, can I ask you why this is?"

Kyoya didn't seem to acknowledge the detectives words for a moment, having returned to staring out the window in the few sort minutes the detective had taken to organise his notes. He did respond after a while, glancing at the detective before looking away again and sighing. "If I seem disinterested, then I must apologise, but I don't think I'm acting in any way out of the ordinary. My father is dead and I'm experiencing a lot of conflicting emotions, so forgive me if I'm not the best at conveying information at the moment."

The detective raised an eyebrow, looking at Kyoya with great interest. Haruhi realised what the detective was about to say before he said it, and she wished she could intercept him in time. "Conflicting emotions, eh? Care to elaborate?"

There was that fear again, swimming around in those usually steel grey eyes- now a shimmering wet silver. Haruhi knew why Kyoya had such conflicting emotions, she wasn't a fool, she'd been there at the cultural festival. The sight and sound of Kyoya being slapped in front of everyone was still crystal clear in her mind, she had wondered if that was a regular thing, especially when Kyoya had said he'd been expecting it. Seeing his eyes now, she was sure it was more than regular. Kyoya didn't deserve to be badgered like this, and Haruhi wouldn't stand for it.

"Detective, if I may?" The detective looked at her and Haruhi continued, "in the legal field, this is referred to as 'badgering the witness', I'm sure you're familiar, it's particularly frowned upon as far as I'm aware. My mother was a lawyer herself so I'm rather familiar with the term myself, and I'd like to know if quizzing Kyoya on his opinion on the death itself is helpful to solving it when he already has an alibi?"

The detective was silent, staring at her in surprise. Kyoya was just as silent but she hoped that he was grateful or at least more relaxed. "Alright then, I understand that he's your friend, but I need to know everything. If there's any distrust he has towards his father then that's a motive. If your mother was a lawyer then I'm sure you know that motive holds more weight than alibi in matters of murder."

Kyoya looked furious at the detective once again talking about him in front of him, and it was instantly clear to Haruhi that they weren't going to get any more information out of the shadow king. It only became clear to the detective after he tried and failed to ask more questions of Kyoya, with the boy refusing to answer anything that he saw as dancing around the actual issue, or an attempt to shine blame on his person. Once this had been decided, the detective left the room, with Haruhi following behind him.

"So, that kid was a tricky one, wasn't he, kid?"

Haruhi looked up at the detective, with his brown, slicked back hair, and deep brown eyes. She sighed, "I guess so sir, but his father did just die, and Kyoya-senpai's never been the best with emotions."

"Hm, I suppose you might be right." He leaned against a wall, looking Haruhi up and down. "So do you believe everything he said? Any thoughts you have on the matter so far?"

"How was Mr Ootori killed?" Haruhi remembered that Kyoya mentioned how he was stabbed through the head and back, but she hadn't actually seen the body.

The detective nodded, "good question; he was found on his back, with blunt force trauma to the head, a stab wound through the middle back and one through the back of his skull."

"Through his skull??" She was amazed and quite shocked, as far as Haruhi was aware, the human skull was an extremely tough thing- to have a sword pass cleanly through-

"They managed to hit a part of the skull that let them in cleanly- I have no idea where they got the knowledge to do that. Apparently there was a previous injury there, according to the doctors who arrived at the scene. The question shouldn't be how they knew about the injury, it should be; who did Mr Ootori trust enough to tell about said injury?"

Something dawned on Haruhi and it made sense to her why he had been so tough in his questioning of Kyoya, clearly the detective would assume that Mr Ootori's children would be aware of their father's old injury. She wasn't so sure that this was a given fact, but she wasn't going to say that. "Alright then, who next?"

"Hmm, I'd say that either the second youngest or the daughter would be best to visit next. What do you think, miss Fujioka?"

Thinking about what she'd heard about Kyoya's siblings, Haruhi recalled that the only person Kyoya had really ever mentioned often was his sister; Fiyumi. In fact, Haruhi remembered that Tamaki had also been keen to talk about the only female Ootori- although Haruhi beleived that her surname was actually Shidou. "I'd like to ask Mrs Shidou some questions, does that sound like a plan?"

"Yes it does! Come on then kid, we've got work to do." He began to jog along the corridor, presumably in the direction of the room that Kyoya's sister was being housed.

Haruhi followed along behind him, taking this time to check her phone and scroll through the host club group chat. They seemed to be going mad, most of them having been sent home by now, although Tamaki remains at the mansion, it being his own home now that he's been recognised. She helpfully informs them that Kyoya's finished being questioned, and that they're heading towards Fiyumi now.

The room in which Kyoya's older sister was being held was rather plain, more so than the room they'd placed Kyoya in. The woman in question lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with her hands placed over her stomach gently. She looked the perfect picture of the family's princess; her jet black hair splayed over the pillows like an illustration from a fairytale and her shimmering silver eyes filled with a sadness Haruhi knew all too well. If Fiyumi wasn't over a decade older than her, Haruhi would say she was more than attractive to the young host.

She sat up as Haruhi and the detective walked in, smiling at them both as she tidied up her hair and the skirt of her dress. Fiyumi was wearing a beautiful black silk gown, with long black gloves that she'd left on the bedside table and some absolutely gorgeous emerald jewelry. If her expression wasn't so sweet, Haruhi would think she looked just as villainous as the rest of her family- although she supposed the woman's smile was a little out of place in this situation.

"Questions, detective?" She spoke softly, calmly, as if she was worried about upsetting the detective. "Of course I can answer a few questions, although I have to ask why you spoke to my poor little brother first? Surely you would have wanted to speak to someone more mature first?"

The detective raised an eyebrow at her question and Haruhi noted the tone of voice that Fiyumi had spoken with- she was worried. "No need to worry about your brother, Mrs Shidou, I only asked the necessary questions. The same questions I'd like to ask you in fact, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not, go ahead."

"When you found the body, you were speaking to your brother, correct?" The detective paused, waiting for Fiyumi to nod before continuing, "great, what was it you were talking about?"

"Myself and Kyoya?" Fiyumi clarified, checking herself in a compact mirror she had on hand, Haruhi thought her makeup looked perfect; those smokey eyes with the green eyeshadow were great. "We were merely discussing the ball, it was so lovely of Mr Souh to invite everyone." She smiled at that, closing her eyes and tilting her head for just a moment before meeting Haruhi's eyes with a glance and turning her attention back to the detective. "We'd just spoken to Yuuichi about where he was leaving the bag of soda he'd brought for Kyoya- he's only a little guy, detective, he's not allowed to drink yet and myself and Yuui were worried about whether there'd be non-alcoholic drinks for him. Such a silly worry but that's just what we're like." She chuckled at that, and Haruhi watched the expression on the detective's face, he didn't seem pleased with this at all.

F.S and Y.O seem over protective over K.O, worrying over he will have anything to drink.

K.O and F.S have matching alibis and can verify each other

"I find that interesting madam, your brother said the same thing, I'm glad you can verify each other's alibi. Now I'd you mind telling me if you know how your father was killed?"

It was like he'd cast a spell over her with those words and her entire demeanor changed to fit. She looked so sad all of a sudden and Haruhi felt so bad for her again. "He was stabbed, wasn't he? In the back… poor father…" she sighed, a heavy breath leaving her lips as she glanced back down to the mirror in her hands, seemingly meeting her own eyes as they glittered with what must have been tears welling there.

"Yes, once through the middle back and once through the back of the skull- through an old injury he had- do you know anything about that injury? Did he ever mention it?"

Fiyumi nodded at that, sighing and closing the compact shut with a snapping noise. "I remember that all too well, sir, I was there." There was a pause and Haruhi was about to speak when Fiyumi continued, "it was the evening and I was around 10, he and mother were arguing over something or other and I remember having the job of distracting Akito so he didn't see anything. I think mother threw something at him, although I didn't see what it was." It was a rather honest confession and Haruhi noticed how she seemed a lot more human as she recalled this story, Fiyumi didn't look perfect when she told them this. She couldn't blame her, though, that must have been traumatising for a ten year old to have to witness a fight like that while looking after a young child themselves.

"I see," the detective nodded, glancing over at the notebook as Haruhi wrote this down.

F.S recalled a fight between the victim and his late wife, claiming that this was the origin of the previous injury.

He nodded, turning back to Fiyumi and looking sympathetic, "I'm sure that must have been difficult, so you'd say all your brothers are aware of this injury, or was Kyoya never told?"

"There was never any reason to tell Kyoya, and Akito was only three at the time so I'm not sure if he remembers."

F.S believes only herself and Y.O were aware of the previous injury.

"Was there anyone else who might have known about it?"

Fiyumi nodded, "other than the staff and doctors? I know that Mr Souh was told because the two of them had a lot of business meetings around that time and he tells his mother everything so she probably also knows. I'm not sure who else but I think some of my mother's friends might have known… and gossip spreads fast in high society."

"Do you suspect Mr Souh at all?"

She instantly looked surprised at the idea of Mr Souh being called into question at all, blinking at the detective in surprise before responding. "Have you met Mr Souh? That man is almost as distraught as we are; father was his utmost favourite business partner and he was definitely trying to befriend father so I don't blame him for being so upset. There's no way he would ever hurt father, it's ridiculous to suggest it."

F.S is adamant that Mr Yuzuru Souh is in no way a suspect.

Nodding, the detective crosses his legs and rests his head in one of his hands, "alright then Ma'am, is there anyone you do suspect? Anyone with motive?"

"Oh no," Fiyumi shook her head, her black waves bouncing as she moves, "I could never accuse someone of murder."

"That's not what you'd be doing, though, you'd be helping to solve your father's murder. It's not as if I'd arrest someone without solid proof."

Fiyumi looked doubtful at that, her eyes catching Haruhi's and suddenly the common girl felt her heartbeat quicken. Haruhi didn't think she was into older women but she could definitely see the genetic similarities between Kyoya and Fiyumi and those eyes were… just as intense. It almost made Haruhi blush to make eye contact with the woman, but for Fiyumi, it seemed to remind her of something. The woman's eyes widened, looking back to the detective and seeming incredibly focused all of a sudden.

"Shizue."

"Pardon?"

"Shizue Souh, Mr Souh's mother. She's always hated father and us by extension, she's definitely hated Kyoya more as of late and I wouldn't put it past her to orchestrate this in order to take power away from us." Haruhi's own eyes went wide at the idea of Tamaki's grandmother having killed Yoshio Ootori- it wasn't like either of them were liked much by the club, but this still felt like it created somewhat of a rift within the host club. She just hoped that Fiyumi was wrong, or this could be the straw that broke the camel's back and finally pushed Kyoya over the edge. "She's a terrifying woman, wouldn't you agree, Haruhi?"

Oh, Fiyumi was speaking to her. The gentle and kind tone she took with her made Haruhi feel all sorts of flustered, trying very hard not to blush as she nodded, suddenly feeling very shy. "Y-yeah, I remember she was very rude to Tamaki-senpai and she seemed like a very cruel woman."

The detective nodded thoughtfully, "alright, yes, I did noticed she seemed a little scornful towards the victim. I'll be sure to look into that."

F.S suspects Shizue Souh may be involved.

"So, Mrs Shidou, the last question I'd like to ask you is another one about your brothers; do you happen to know where the other two where at the time of the murder?"

Fiyumi paused, visibly looking the detective up and down before opening that little black compact again. "You don't suspect my brothers, do you, detective?"

Looking slightly surprised, the detective frowned, "now ma'am, I don't think that's something I need to tell yo-" he was cut off, not by words but by the sudden thunderous expression on Fiyumi's face. It was an expression Haruhi had seen before, on Kyoya whenever the other hosts pissed him off too much. Seeing it on his sister's face, however, shook Haruhi to her core. "I…" the detective composed himself, looking nervous all of a sudden, "no ma'am, not at all, I just need to know where they were."

"Oh!" She was smiling again, acting as if that little blip in character hadn't just happened, "wonderful, I'm not sure where they were but we had just stopped talking to Yuuichi over by the drinks table and I'm sure I saw Akito heading upstairs, so they weren't really anywhere near the drawing room."

F.S claims Y.O was by the drinks table and A.O was upstairs at the time of the murder.

F.S changes behaviour completely the moment her brothers are called into question. (Over protective?)

"Thank you Mrs Shidou, that was very helpful." The detective stood, looking very hasty to get out of the room. "We'll get out of your hair now." With that, he practically ran out of the door, seemingly shaken by the interaction.

Haruhi stood to follow, when Fiyumi raised a hand to stop her. "Kyoya tells me you've been having trouble with the Zuka club? I went to lobelia. Tell those girls that Fiyumi told them to leave you alone; they'll run with their tails between their legs." She giggled softly, as the concept of Fiyumi having been a lobelia graduate dawned on Haruhi. It would certainly explain Kyoya's knowledge of the white lily league and familiarity with the staff there. She nodded in thanks and followed the detective out of the room, trying to compose herself.

"That was… informative."

"Tell me about it," the detective responded, "have you ever seen a more terrifying woman? Powerful and beautiful? If I wasn't working…"

"She's married," Haruhi informed him, understanding how he was feeling, "hence the difference in surnames with her and her brothers."

"Why is the second child married and not the first?"

"No clue sir, maybe you can ask him?"

"I'm not gay, Fujioka, unfortunately."

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #fiyumi ootori #yoshio ootori

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satingrove · 4 years

Text

the hours

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader

summary: obi-wan pays you a visit before leaving for kamino

content: uhh SOFTNESS, fluff, a cute obi-wan and youngling moment, steamy meditation, more fluff, aotc obi rights, no gender specification

wc: 3.136k :’)

Lost a planet, Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing... How embarrassing.

He had one important trip to make before seeking out said planet.

Obi-Wan nods to those who pass him by, walking briskly through the Temple with his hands clasped in front of him, thinking on Yoda's other (more helpful) words, go to the center of gravity's pull and find your planet, you will. It would still be a while before he did so.

He nears an opening of transparisteel, scratching his beard and peering out of it - as if Kamino would appear in the sky, knowing it was sought after. But it's not there, as expected.

Sighing, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, focusing on the surrounding energy, the swirls of air and the sound of quiet walking, trying to single out a presence by the trace of a Force Signature. He gets just a whisper of it when his attention is broken by two small hands tugging at his cloak.

"Obi-Wan!"

Katooni, a youngling Tholothian, starts to wrap her short arms around Obi's leg, who chuckles in return. His hand comes to rest on her head.

"Little one, are you supposed to be in the library with the others?" Obi-Wan doesn't take an accusatory tone - it's laced with amusement at the youngling petting at his calf.

Katooni turns shy, hiding her face and slowly trying to inch away. The taller of the two crouches, his cloak pooling generously around him at the floor. Obi-Wan meets her at eye level, ensuring her comfort.

"I'm not here to get you into trouble, Katooni. Is that where you're supposed to be?" He displays clear and attentive empathy, though not without a trace of austerity.

Slowly, delayed by gentle shame, the Tholothian's head nods up and down.

"I was just taking a walk for a break, Master Kenobi."

He smiles, rising to stand and extending his pinkie to her, "Then I suppose I'll accompany you back, young one?"

She takes it with a soothed giggle, and he realizes the words that stuck with him from so many months ago, ones you had uttered, were perhaps true - he was indeed favoured among the young ones of the Temple, and it's more evident now than it had been before - Katooni isn't fretting about going back to the library to read up on ancient texts; she's content holding his pinkie with her whole hand, skipping twice to each step he takes.

And Obi-Wan supposes that it isn't a bad thing; to be admired in such ways, yet he does worry about the influence he gives. Was it respectable enough? He never thought he'd earned the right to be idolized. Then again, the child grasping his finger does warm his heart.

The fretting about rightful heroism is soon behind him, what with the more pressing matters on his hands - a voyage to a (seemingly) non-existent planet, and before that, a visit to his dearest.

Obi-Wan crouches before Katooni a second time, just shy of the library.

"I need you to tell me something very important before you go," he sets up his question in an enthusiastic whisper - a secret from everyone else in the Temple. Lightheartedly, he pokes her shoulder, "Have you seen my friend?"

"Oh, I have!" Katooni starts, excited that she had an answer, "I last saw them heading that way, before-" and then she stops, ears starting to burn with the heat of embarrassment. But it's all Obi-Wan needs to know. You'll be in your quarters.

"Ah, before you ran into me and tugged my poor cloak?" His right eyebrow raises.

"Mhm!" She chortles, almost proud of herself. Obi-Wan gives her the warmest of smiles.

"It would be best to stay in there this time." He motions to the library, softly stern, "Although, I'm not exactly sure how you escaped in the first place." Winking, a final gesture to let her know that he's not mad, he makes to cross the hallway.

Obi-Wan hardly turns the corner before Katooni yells her sweetest "thank you!" to him, scurrying back into the vastness of history books. As he weaves his way through those high-ceiling corridors, he ponders the affection he's always given. Had the little ones seen him as a father figure? He wasn't even positive what that was supposed to mean - although, Qui-Gon was the closest he'd ever had to one. The thought stings him for a second, a brief pain in his chest, and he brushes it off with his well-known stoicism, ready to fall into your arms instead for one restoring night.

Hood drawn up, he ensures the space around him is empty, pressing the button to your door. Unusually, he hadn't knocked, yet he slips in as it hisses open.

A sigh of relief blows through his pursed lips at his successful venture to forbidden grounds; and like clockwork, his arms fold as he leans his side into the wall. He smirks when you finally see him.

"Maker, I wasn't expecting you-" Your hand on your heart almost worries him.

"Am I not welcome?" He asks quizzically, looking particularly regal, features made dark by the shadow of his hood. Jedi Knight was a rightfully chosen word.

He knew he was indeed welcome.

"Oh, don't be a fool." You kiss his lips in a short but sweet peck, tangling your fingers in the length of his auburn hair and taking his hood down. It's not enough for him.

"You'll have to kiss me longer than that." He talks low and deep against your lips, pressing them back together for a lingering moment. As it consumes your senses, it releases all of his pesky, pent up stresses. His whimper lights up your insides.

As you come apart for the second time, his hand finds the back of your neck to cradle it delicately, eyes switching between your left and right. "What if I am a fool?"

You jab a finger into his side, "You're not", and he huffs.

"Coming here, I'd say so." He waits with an expectant look, one that makes his eyes crinkle with the smile he's trying to put off.

"Hey!" You swat at his shoulder and he takes it with exuberance, "we're careful enough about it."

Unwittingly, you try walking back to your notebook, in which you were scrawling details about deadly Felucian spore plants.

"Oh, are we?" His hands catch your waist, bringing your back swiftly to his chest. Hands creep under your clothing and caress your bare skin.

It instantly makes you weak against him, powerless to put any stop to it, and you let him continue his loving, handsy, research of your body. "Would you prefer we do this outside?" His mouth is dangerously close to nipping your ear.

"Obi-Wan..." You whine, only giving him extra incentive.

"I thought we were careful enough..."

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, his head lazily falling into yours. Carefully, he places open-mouthed kisses all along your collarbone. He's not thinking about Kamino, nor how he'll get there. It's all forgotten as he adores you with his lips.

It feels so soft and elegant, he's so soft and elegant, but even as he's lost in his amorous deeds, the nature of his visit hasn't escaped you yet. Secrecy lead you to plan specific times to indulge in each other, although here he is, a doting surprise.

You reluctantly hum a pushy sound. He stops his movements but his lips stay connected to you. Obi-Wan hums a questioning hmm? in return.

"Did you have something to tell me?" You take him by the shoulders, all of a sudden worried that he most likely did and that it wouldn't be your favourite piece of news.

"Oh," he grumbles in slight annoyance, not at you but at the thought of leaving you in a few hours' time. "Yes, love, I did come to speak with you about something."

Your stomach drops, something he senses, and he hurriedly implores you not to panic. Taking both your hands in his, he leads you to your bed and sits down with you on its plush mattress.

He gets on with it, "I'll be leaving soon," starting slowly, gauging your reactions, "to look for a planet erased from the archives. I don't know what I may come into contact with."

The something he came to talk about doesn't startle you as much as you'd expected. Obi-Wan is a very capable Jedi, and he usually left little room for you to fret over his well-being. That said, you did anyway, all the time. His penchant for being mouthy at odds happened to cost him some blood, but this seemed as normal a job as any.

"I came to tell you," he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes following it, then meeting your gaze again, "and spend the rest of the time I have with you."

His lips envelop yours once more, this time with more bursting energy, eagerly as having an itch that couldn't be scratched. And then it all turns soft, his hair tickling your cheek as he rubs his face along your neck, taking in your scent and trying to memorize it to the best of his ability.

"How long is that?" You ask, ruffling his neat, long hair.

"Few hours." He mumbles into your skin, beard scratching against it but it's nothing you mind. "Almost the night." He adds.

The night.

"You know, I'll have to be very centered when I leave."

You do know, and it means he'll want to meditate for a while.

"Of course," your hand finds his cheek, the scruff soft under your palm, "take your time."

Obi-Wan is grateful for your constant understanding, but he has other plans - he never meant to come into your quarters to deny you his attention. You're glad to have him near regardless of what he does, yet his hand rests on your thigh and his eyes turn pleading.

"I thought you could join me." It's less of a question and more of an implication. An implication that it wasn't going to be a traditional meditation session.

You can't muster a proper response, a quiet oh coming out in its place. And as words fail you, you nod your head in agreement. Enthusiastically.

"Very well." He whispers hot against your skin, moving his head from it and standing up - except he starts to take off his cloak and utility belt. A breathy noise, and you earn yourself an amused look from him. "What? Would you rather do it for me?"

You smile charmingly, feet gently kicking at his shins, "Is that what you want?"

And he feels it again. The need to make his love known.

"I couldn't say no, darling." It leaves his chest in a hum, body leaning down for his lips to touch your forehead. Your fingers hook onto his belt, tugging him towards you and threatening to make him topple onto the mattress. He grumbles in happy exasperation, the kind that leaves him feeling overwhelmingly fond of you as you pull it off of him and neatly lay it on the sheets. He smiles at the care you give to himself and his possessions.

His fingers trace the edges of his wrap. He gathers some of it and holds it out to you. Your eyes narrow.

"More?" Your hands slowly extend to the fabric.

"Won't you?" He asks, and you sense a trace of timidity in it that makes your cheeks burn. To have flustered Obi-Wan again, for who knows how many times it's been now - you feel precious. And to him, you were just that.

The back of his hand slips gingerly down your face as you pull, the fabric wrap starting to fall off his shoulders, leaving him in his undershirt. You ravel it around your wrists and lay it beside his belt.

"That's better, thank you." He pushes the sleeves up to his elbows, the fabric loose and airy on his body, and he's effortlessly handsome.

You feebly try not to ogle him, but he's loosened the collar and his chest peeks through the linen, the image romantic on its own. He feels your stare, chuckling sweetly at your enamoured face, "I feel warm when I'm with you," giving a reason to his lack of layers.

You feel warm, too. Obi-Wan guides you to stand - ever the gentleman - and doesn't let you go while he rolls out your intricate rug from Jakku that had been sitting in the corner. Then he does let go of you, sitting down with his legs in front of him, hair falling princely on his forehead.

"Sit, my love." He motions his head, tilting it towards the spot in front of him. You're not sure why he's not sitting cross-legged, but you follow his lead and sit before him with a straight back.

"No, no. Closer." You inch forward. He extends his cheek out to you with closed eyes, waiting for his kiss. It comes as second nature to you, without a second thought, giggling quietly as you peck his face and he joins the laughter when he feels it. "Now, turn around."

How was this going to go?

You throw him a look, to which he nods his head rigidly. Turning your body before him, everything then becomes a soft and serene blur, laced with every drop of love you held for the other. His arms pull you snug against his front, chin hooking onto your shoulder.

He inhales and exhales deeply along with you, chest firm against your back, bodies moulding.

"That's it," he coos, hands pressing against your stomach, "breathe with me, feel everything..."

All you can do is what he says. The act is new but the feeling isn’t foreign; Obi-Wan’s arrays of intimacy are common, but this is different, the anticipation aloft and the touches silken.

There's the sound of air passing in through his nose. His head further lolls onto you, your lungs filling shakily, the feeling sweet and kind. Your wrists, your neck, seemingly everything has a throbbing pulse. Obi-Wan doesn't miss your wavering breaths, deft fingers making quick work of soothing your muscles.

"So tense... it's only me, darling."

His words surround you. Melodic and steady, "Let go."

You do, floating and falling.

You sense everything - the tide of his breathing, his gentle humming, the way he keeps you tight against him like he couldn't go without; the clement whispers, feeling perfectly flush with the man who brings you nothing but pure, good feelings - like it's the only thing he knows how to do - even as he does everything else with poise and taste.

This is no exception. The sensuality is tangible - the unknowing Jedi who roam the hallway outside could have felt it, should have felt it, if not for Obi-Wan's ability to be subtle about making you weak and entirely his.

"Trust me." He brushes up the column of your throat, cautiously bringing your head back into the crook of his neck as he cranes his own to make space. He notes the fluffy feeling of your hair, arm crossing your body. You murmur, "I always trust you."

Stars, if he didn't love to hear it.

"Tell me what you see when you close your eyes."

In the blackness, there comes nothing.

"I see- I don't see anything. I only feel you..."

And what did he expect?

There wasn't anything to see when there was so much to feel. His tender hand on your throat and his legs hugging yours, you stood no chance at finding an image in your mind.

"Good," he presses his face to yours, "nice, isn't it?"

You sigh, completely enveloped in him - it's physical and emotional. Obi-Wan groans lightly at your sound, further burying his face into your curve, trying to grapple that this wouldn't last forever.

And inevitably, the falling continues. The fog of slumber starts to cloud your head by Obi-Wan's effect, that which leaves you too calm to stay awake in his arms. Fighting it isn't of any use; his soothing energy had always been a mystery, what with its pleasant gentleness that is unassailable against your consciousness.

But the moment is too sweet to lose.

He exhales an ahh of acknowledgement for your perseverance in staying awake.

"Obi, I'm not sure how this is helping you clear your mind-"

He supposes he hadn't been clear himself - learning your body under the expanse of his palms, through the matching time of your breathing, was a meditation in itself.

"But it has, my love."

It all starts over again. The lush sensations and the rush of your heart. Your senses dialed with his fingertips pressed on your wrists, finding the rhythm of your aliveness; the only thing he would hope to be sure of in the coming years that neither of you expected yet.

You both reach a point of euphoric tranquility - two words you'd use to describe his company - chests expanding and deflating at the same, slow rate. It had come to an end.

"You did wonderfully for me." A lasting kiss on your neck as he savours it. His lips send you into pleasant, sunny rapture.

The occurrence leaves you in a hazy state, all that comfort pressed against you is taken away as you both rise, sleepily, happily, and stumble into your bed.

"I don't want to wake you when I leave," Obi-Wan says, considerately and kind, propped up over you on his elbows, "I'll be careful."

"Don't be," and he melts, "I'd hate to miss you."

It’s the saccharine pieces of time that made him whole. Without another word, he kisses you; conveying the completeness that he feels by your hand, discreetly hungry but overshadowed by a chaste and giving nature. It's light and loving and drawn out long.

Then he falls grandly into the sheets beside you, arm heavily draping across your stomach, your lips missing his but you know he needs the sleep. And as the morning came, he was already gone. A vague memory of his departure floods your mind, playing over your closed eyelids - you can see it - the way he had kissed your temples, both lazily and warm, your arm semi-consciously reaching out to him, which his lips had touched too, held by both his hands.

What you hadn't seen, was Obi-Wan looming in the doorway, overseeing you drifting back to dreaming, cloak not keeping him nearly as warm as you did. He blew a kiss that you didn't catch, but knew that had you been awake, you'd have thrown it back to him.

He hopes Kamino will be a simple, touch and go engagement.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan imagine #obi wan fluff #obi wan fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #userkarina #ewan mcgregor

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jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

6:45 PM

Pairing- Lee Jeno x reader.

Genre- Angst, Fluff.

Word count- 1.91k

Warning- False accusation, Jeno seems a little thick headed but he was just caught up in the heat, mention of breaking up but not really :))

Summary- Not the ideal off day with your loved ones that you were looking for.

"You need to tell me what's wrong, Jeno." you demand with a stern voice, having had enough of the way your boyfriend was acting.

Earlier today Jaemin, a good friend of yours, a best friend of Jeno's had come over, reason being missing his two best hype mates and not getting much time to spend with you after having a hectic schedule.

Jeno was fine the first two hours, interacting well, cracking stupid tacky jokes, sometimes even ganging up with Jaemin to make fun of you. But you noticed the gradual strip out of his patience, furrowing his eyebrows or gripping the pillow in a death grip. His subtle glares towards his friend was not given a blind eye, you noticed it all. Typical Jeno. He's always been a little jealous over your slightly curved affection for others.

It was only when he did something he's never done throughout the years of one, your relationship, two Jaemins friendship that had you completely shocked.

"I have nothing to tell you, Y/n" He replied with the same tone he held an hour ago after the guest left the house. You weren't going to buy his bullshit.

"You screamed at Jaemin asking him to get out. Do you still have nothing to tell me?" you ask, walking up to where he sat by the edge of the bed.

"I said i have nothing to tell you." Voice hoarse, the veins on his neck protruding prominently from how strained his jaws were. "Well you do." You spit out as soon as you stood in front of him, his gaze still fixated on the floor.

"I. Don't." he repeated the words through gritted teeth. For a normal person, he'd be extremely intimidating and would've had the other weak in their knees from how threatening he sounded. Fights are normal for any couple but the last you'd heard him use this tone was when someone tried to touch you at a club you went to for the weekend.

"Then I do. Jaemin's your best friend for god's sake! He came in here, wanting to spend some quality time with us and he was an absolute sweetheart throughout even! And what do you do? Scream at him? For what? He seemed so hurt! What must he be thinking right no-!"

"Enough!" Jeno stood up, towering over your much smaller figure with his as he narrowed his eyes down at you, nose flaring. You wouldn't be shocked if he started breathing out flames.

You jump from the sudden raise of his voice, having to crane your neck to look up at him, hands shaking the slightest from the flinch you just experienced.

"Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Who's your boyfriend, huh?" He started walking forward, almost stepping on your toes if you hadn't moved back, "Actually, he might as well be! You're always on about him and now you even want to go defend him" he poked at your right shoulder, pushing you back as you gaped at his words, completely taken aback by his assumption.

"All i wanted was one fucking day to spend with you but nope! You want your dearest Jaemin with you. All the fucking time! Do you not love me anymore, Y/n?" Jeno let out an exhale, pushing you back with a single finger still on your shoulder, making you step back, "Jen-" "No you wanted me to tell you what's wrong right? Hear me out then!"

"Is Jaemin all you think about, Y/n? Is that why you're getting so worked up over me shouting at my best friend?? Emphasize the word, my. My best friend, why is it affecting you? Huh?" He raised his voice once again, you turn your head to the side, crunching up the facials trying to make out why he's making this a big deal. It was his fault to begin with.

"You want him that much then just go to him right! Or you want both of us because i won't be shocked at that, you're a sucker for anything remotely good looking anyways you won't hesitate to run your mouth all over town-!" Jeno stopped midway to completing his sentence, now noticing your glazed eyes and the heavy puffs of air you took.

"are you done?" you ask with trembling voice, Jeno opened his mouth to speak but you held your hands up, stopping him, "If this is about Jaemin-" Jeno took in a sharp breathe, hands going from poking at your shoulder to holding your shoulder in a tight grip at the mention of his best friends name. Though the grip was bruising, you muster up all the strength you had, removing his hands from you, quickly stepping back to create some space between the two of you.

"Then he's my friend too." you step back once again as Jeno stood his ground. "But if you heard yourself and actually think of me that way. You're more than welcome to just break things off." you grab the door knob as a tear slipped out, turning away to shield the weakness from your boyfriend who's head is stuck up his butt at the moment, and dashed out the room.

"Y/n wait-" you hear him call out for you, footsteps shuffling close behind but you grabbed the car keys, wanting away from him to clear your mind the least. One of you should stay sane.

Driving away to your safe space, the old library that took a journey of around 25 minutes, which is most likely to be 'anything living and breathing'-free as not many knew of that place, which made you love it even more.

Whiffs of old bookcases are calming.

You were pleased to find out your assumptions were correct, not a single soul other than a tired out cashier who seemed long passed out, given he failed to hear the ringing of the entrance opening.

You make your way to the extreme back, not particularly wanting to read anything with your thoughts clouded, allowing yourself a seat you found at a secluded corner.

You take your phone out, that had been vibrating since you left home after Jeno's sudden outburst, ignoring them, wanting him to feel bad for what he's done throughout the day, you scroll through your phone searching for Jaemin's contact, opening up messages to type in a quick apology for your boyfriend's behavior, explaining it must've been the the fatigue that got to him, but made sure to tell him not to wave off this behavior and screw him when they meet later.

Getting a reply almost immediately, you were shocked to find out Jaemin was still as bubbly as ever, saying it's fine and that he didn't take anything to heart which just made you feel even guiltier than you already felt.

Texting back and forth, Jaemin being more than ready to keep you company after you narrated what had happened back home, cracking jokes to make you feel better when you wantedly missed out on a few parts to tell him, you jolt when you feel a hand tear you away from the screen and the table in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Warmth being familiar, you resist the urge to hug him back, not even bothering to ask him how he'd known where you'd be at as this is known to be the place you go to calm your mind, rather all those cliché places like the bridge or a cliff, or the beach, or taking a stroll in the twilight whatsoever.

"Y/n I'm so so sorry, please don't run off like that again" he spoke, Jeno mimicked your voice from before, this time quivering with guilt. "Let go, Jen" you spoke with a voice void of all emotions, tables turning as you mirrored his voice from the time of the argument.

"No, I won't, I'm so sorry, I meant nothing of what I said! Trust me, I was just being unreasonable and petty, i would never want to let go of you. I'd be an idiot if i did so" he spoke against your hair, grip around you tight, yet delicate, soft enough for you to step out if you'd wished.

"Yes you were." you reply, slowly raising your hands to feather over his elbows as he pressed you further against his chest, "I know. I'm really sorry, love. I was just jealous is all. And it had been a rough week at work and all that got to me but trust me when I say I'll do anything to repent just, please don't let my words get to you" he caressed your back.

"Those were all words of spiked up anger, and i really want to throw myself off a cliff, I'm really sorry, i am" he pulled away enough to place a peck on your forehead.

"you'll do anything?" you repeat his words for confirmation, finally allowing yourself to throw your hands around his torso. You look up at him, seeing a faint crimson at the white of his eye, the hue being really pale that you'd not make out if you stood a couple yards away. He must've shed some tears, just like you.

"Anything." with a nod, he hesitantly placed a delicate kiss on your lips, scared you'd shatter if he'd pressed any harder.

"house chores for a week." you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to drag the fight for long as it'd only take a negative toll on your relationship.

"Okay!" Jeno's face evidently lightened up, quick to think he's forgiven, "thank you for forgivin-"

"Don't be so sure on that, boy. You still have one thing left to do until I completely forgive you" you step back, turning to walk back towards the exit, fishing for the car keys from the back pocket of your jean, turning around and throwing the keys at him swiftly, his reflexes allow him to catch it.

"You're driving to Jaemin's house and begging for an apology, right now." it was only the right thing to do even after the lad insisting on not being hurt. Jeno is his best friend, it's always sucky when you have your friend mad at you without knowing what you did. Worse if you didn't actually do anything.

"You have it." Jeno exclaimed, walking towards you as the two of you made your way to the exit. "you're doing it the way i want you to, though", you turn your body towards him after both of you stood by the door of the passengers side.

"And how do you want me to do it?" He inquired, leaning against the car. "First tell him exactly what you said to me" Jeno nodded, agreeing to do that, "Then give him a tight hug and repeat sorry until he swats you away" he contemplated for a moment, but eventually ended up agreeing to it too. "And then.. Give him a kiss on the cheek." Your boyfriend let out a sound of protest, leaning back further onto the surface.

"Do i really have to??" he asked, whining.

"Yes."

"Like, really? really?"

"Mhm"

"for real? Real? Is it that important?" you let out a sigh at his constant poking at your side as he pushed further with the question.

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?" you ask, voice demanding, a hint of teasing evident. "Yes!" he was fast to reply.

"Then give him a kiss. "

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hellomynameisbisexual · 3 years

Text

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

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elriel-oblivion · 3 years

Text

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter.

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

#elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar

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norahastuff · 4 years

Note

Hello. What are your thoughts about S12 of SPN? Did you like what the show did for Destiel and what about Mary's arc? i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Oh anon, so many thoughts - be careful what you ask for!

Season 12 is one of my favourite seasons of the show, mostly because of the in depth focus of the characters’ emotional states - especially Cas and Mary. I mean sure you could say the Men of Letters weren’t exactly formidable villains, but I think that was kind of the point. Like Sam snarks at Lady Toni Bevell when she tries to threaten him with torture, he’s been tortured by the devil himself - what was she going to do to him? After dealing with many seasons of escalating threats that culminated in them confronting God and Amara, they couldn’t exactly raise the stakes any higher plotwise, so they went lower.

They created this human threat and instead put the focus on what the characters were going through. This gets kind of long, so I’ll break it down into 3 parts. I’ll talk about Cas and his story in this answer, and then I’ll make another couple of posts about Mary and then Dean and Cas.

1. Cas and his state of mind

2. Mary

3. Dean and Cas

1. Cas

After everything that went on during s11 with Cas and Lucifer and God, I did kind of think that the show might forget about what it was that led to Cas saying yes to Lucifer in the first place. I needn’t have worried. Dabb’s always been interested in exploring Cas’ mental state, going all the way back to 8x08 when Dean and Cas talked about the effect the whole Godstiel/Leviathan mess had on Cas.

“I’m afraid I might kill myself.”

It was jarring because it was the most direct Cas had ever gotten about his depression. He’d talked about it before but never quite so matter of factly. Dabb also wrote the episode in which Cas said yes to Lucifer, a decision he came to after feeling worthless and unneeded by everyone and everything. Ambriel told him the how little the angels thought of him. In the past that may have been because he was a traitor and a rebel. They may have hated him but they feared him, even felt a twisted kind of reverence towards him. Not anymore. Now what did they think of him?

Castiel: I never wanted this, you know. To be hated by my own kind, I never…

Ambriel: Oh no, I don’t hate you, Castiel.

Castiel: Thank you.

Ambriel: I mean, we have a lot in common. Our names rhyme, that’s a big one. I look good in a trench coat too, and we’re both expendable.

Castiel: Excuse me?

Ambriel: Well, that’s why we’re here, right? I’m a number cruncher and you… like I said, I’ve heard the stories. You help. But Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes. So, if the Darkness is still alive and she’s pissed… and she kills us… no big loss. So sure, maybe we’re not super important, but we do the job. You know… I think there’s nobility in that.

He wasn’t The Great Castiel anymore. He was the Winchesters’ sidekick. The angel who turned his back on them and gave up an army for Dean Winchester. I think sometimes we underestimate how bad the events of 9x22 were for the angels perception of Cas. Dean broke the rules, rules Cas had put into place, and yet Cas refused to hold him accountable for that. Instead Cas fell at his feet, at least in their eyes.

I mean he was resigned to dying when Amara caught him….and yet what does she tell him? “Blue eyes, you’re not even worth the effort” “You look a bit used up.” He wasn’t even worthy of being killed by the big bad anymore. Instead she used his body to send a message to the adversaries she actually cared about. That’s all he was good for.

Ok sorry I spent a lot of time talking about season 11 but that’s because Cas’ story in s12 is a continuation of the same things he was dealing with in s11. His desperate search for a purpose. His fears that he could never do anything right, that he was worthless: unloved and unwanted. As soon as he helped get Sam back, he got up and left again. Sure, part of that was because he needed to go find Lucifer, but like Sam and Dean tell him, he didn’t have to do that alone.

I think it’s telling that his decision to leave comes on the heels of his late night conversation with Mary where he confesses that he still doesn’t feel like he belongs with them. So he leaves, and tries to make himself useful and Cas being Cas, he decides to do that as Agent Beyonce which results in an absolutely glorious partnership with Crowley. Honestly, as much as Cas hated Crowley, I think their little adventure was good for him - at least for a little while. I mean it gave Cas an excuse to feel superior (something he wasn’t getting a lot of at that point) and to show contempt towards someone - something he is so very good at: see also Ketch, Sergei.

But it’s easy to see how precarious Cas’ sense of self worth was. The second something goes wrong, in this case when Sam and Dean get arrested and he can’t find them, he completely falls apart. He internalises what Ambriel and Amara said to him about how useless he was, and that coupled with his own crippling insecurities, as well as Mary lashing out and blaming him for letting them get taken (she didn’t mean it really, she was more angry at herself than anything) he convinces himself that they were all right. He is worthless and he can’t do anything right. Cas didn’t fail to stop the vampire he tried to hunt down because he lacked the skills, or because he needed Sam and Dean. No, it was because he was so convinced that he was worthless and useless, it became a self fulfilling prophecy.

The look of relief, the crack of his voice when he hears Dean on the phone after he’d essentially given up hope. The look on his face when he finds Sam and Dean, a look that stops them in their tracks, not to mention the wordless exchange in the backseat of the car after Cas meets Dean’s eyes and realises that something’s not quite right. Try then to tell me that Ambriel’s words (or at least the same sentiments) are not running through his head when he learns that one of the Winchesters will have to sacrifice themselves.

Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes.

You’re expendable.

If she kills you, it’s no big loss.

It’s not much of a surprise that he makes the decision he makes.

I also find Ishim’s conversations with Cas very interesting. I’ll talk about that some more in the Dean and Cas post, but in particular this exchange:

I used to envy you, Castiel. You believe that? You survived Hell. You were chosen by God. But now look at you. You’re just sad and pathetically weak. So now… I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness same way I cured my own -by cutting it out.

Once again this is confirmation of what the angels think of him. He’s not a figure to be feared anymore, rather an object of pity. Unsurprisingly, they all blame Dean for that. They see Cas’ love and devotion for Dean as his weakness. From the very beginning Cas has been told that getting close to Dean would lead to his downfall. Heaven, hell and everyone in between warned him, over and over again.

Interestingly Cas sees it differently. He agrees that he’s weak and powerless but he doesn’t blame his love for Sam and Dean for that. So much so that on his deathbed, he even thanks them for changing his life, for changing him.

But he survives. Crowley (much to Cas’ chagrin I’m sure) saved his life. And ultimately nothing has changed. He still needs to feel useful, he’s still desperate to find any sense of purpose - and so he finds one. Eliminate the Nephilim. Not only is that a clear instruction, a plan he can carry out, but if he manages to do that, he’ll also be preventing Sam and Dean from having to do something truly unsavoury. That checks all the boxes on Cas’ wishlist.

But Cas is missing something. He’s not seeing how much Dean is struggling with him gone, and how desperate he is for Cas to come back. He just wants a win, and unfortunately, he’s looking for it in all the wrong places. He doesn’t have a clear idea of his importance and role in the Winchesters’ lives, Dean’s in particular. When he steals the Colt and tries to face Dagon alone, he tells them he was trying to protect them, only for Dean to hit back with “You’re not our babysitter Cas” and from Cas’ face, you can see he clearly doesn’t agree. He once admitted he saw himself as the Winchesters’ guardian, and part of him still feels that that’s the only role he can play in their family - even though that’s not at all how Sam and Dean feel about him anymore.

Cas is lost. Completely and utterly unsure of his place in the world. Kelly takes the wheel and he could stop her if he wanted to - but what else would he do? It’s easier to just follow someone else’s plan, no matter how nebulous and uncertain it may be.

And then something happens. The Nephilim’s power flows through him and Cas feels strong. He feels focused and like he has a purpose again. A part to play in making the world better. He has something he hasn’t had in a very long time - he has faith. But you see the problem still hasn’t been solved, he may have faith now, but he still doesn’t have any faith in himself. He doesn’t see his value outside of being a tool, an instrument, existing only to be of service to the bigger players.

I think season 12 did a really great job in highlighting the dichotomy in Cas’ motivations that we’ve been seeing for a while now. He wants to be of service, he needs a purpose to feel like he has a place in this world, but it’s not a desire that’s based on unfeeling duty anymore.

Cas feels things so very strongly and yet he’s still acutely aware that he’s not human - something season 14 (particularly 14x14) spent time exploring. Season 15 too actually. He wants to belong. He wants to be wanted, to be loved. He wants a home.

And yet…he also knows (or thinks he knows) what it is he actually has to do. Remember s9 and the extended focus on “I did what I had to do.” When Dean asked Cas back then if he was ok with giving up his human life to become an angel again, Cas’ response was essentially that it didn’t matter - he did what he had to do.

Cas wants to feel loved, valued, cherished but yet he also thinks his role in this last big fight against God is to sacrifice himself so that the chosen players, namely Sam, Dean, Jack can have a better chance. Not only is this a consistent trait in Cas that we can follow all the way back, but I’m just so in awe that they actually spent so much time in s12 actually exploring Cas’ state of mind and what drives him to feel this way. It’s just very narratively satisfying.

Ok yeah this is long so I’ll post the other parts in separate posts soon, because there’s a lot to say in those too.

#asks #my spn thoughts #s12 #you deserve to be saved #spn meta #suicide cw #love and...love #need vs want

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lisacatherwood · 4 years

Text

Me and M.E.

The Horror

Fatigue as a word doesn’t begin to describe the horror that they casually call Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or M.E. - Myalgic Enephalo Myelitis

I was 14 in 1980 when I contracted a virus known then as glandular fever. I was seriously less than chuffed… I was an 800 meter runner. I was a member of my town swimming club, doing competitive swimming and planning to do scuba diving training (I desperately wanted to be a Marine Biologist). I played hockey and went on my bike to the athletics club on a Saturday. I had a lot to do, but I had friends who had had the illness, a cousin who had been very ill and had had a long recovery over some weeks, so we knew what to expect, and I wasn’t too worried.

I had a high fever and then a low grade fever and felt really rotten and it simply didn’t go away. It’s such a simple thing to write down but the reality was and is horrific for my family as well as for me.

I was finally diagnosed with M.E. (myalgic encephalomyelitis) when I was 22 years old. In the intervening time I had had nearly two years off school. I got O’ levels, at 16, doing two year’s work in a year but was then so poorly during my 6th form that I largely blew my ‘A’ Levels at 18. I spent some time in the metabolic unit at my local hospital as they tried to work out what was wrong, with no success. It was frightening and disappointing for me, and for my family. I was so exhausted, confused and miserable that I couldn’t even fill in the university applications never mind thinking of packing and going.

A pattern developed which has persisted until now, forty years later. I would start to rebuild my life out of the illness and then catch a bug or even just overdo it a little and be destroyed by it. The illness seems to be something to do with a defunct immune system. Some bugs, colds, flus etc. I catch and get over the same as other people, some I catch and it’s like my immunity fails. I can’t get rid of the bug and the symptoms persist for months and months. In my body it feels like the immunity starts to triumph in one part of the system, but is overwhelmed in others. Like chasing dry rot round an old house. The painful joints start to feel better and then it flares in my digestive system and I have nausea and other digestive symptoms. Or the headaches die away and I feel so physically weak, I can’t stand steadily, lift a kettle, turn a tap on, hold a pen. Not just tired, but sore and stiff and lacking control. I have had long periods of being incredibly fatigued cold and hungry. Mind numb, sluggish forgetful, time concertinas, days, weeks pass in weird disjointed forms, sometimes I can barely speak. Summer days spent in low light indoors with two duvets and a hot water bottle, the central heating on, the fire lit, still freezing cold.

Every year or two Something happens which knocks me down into bed for months, sometimes years. After the initial sickness illness the convalescence is unending. I have described it as being like the worst flu and hangover you have ever had combined and lasting for months – the problem with this description is that I don’t think it really explains it, people don’t really remember what that level of awfulness feels like. The brain has a gift for not really storing the memory of physical symptoms – pain discomfort etc. We remember as an intellectual exercise not as a visceral experience. Even if you can vaguely put together a sensation of what that might be like it doesn’t really scratch the surface. (Try thinking of what a strawberry tastes like – really imagine it, hard as you can. Now eat a strawberry. See?)

The terror of finding you can’t roll over in bed on your own, the humiliation of having to have your personal care taken care of by someone else, the days when all the radios in the world are on in your head, all light is too bright, all sound is too intense, the indignity of being questioned like a criminal in benefits offices and doctors surgeries. I think I can now write openly about all of this because I have nothing left to lose.

I think I had always tried to hide the damage the illness does particularly to my mind because I was afraid of a diagnosis of mental illness. I had an acquaintance who had the same symptoms as me when we were in our twenties, she ended up on a ward in our local mental hospital. They took her drawing materials away from her. They wouldn’t let her write. I fear this kind of thing more than anything.

I have not been idle. I have not been a scrounger. I have a tiny website design business. I work as much as I can always from home and now employ two people part time. I am a self taught artist and designer and love my work when I can do it and I do it as much as I can. Just at the moment that isn’t very much. But I live in hope.

I don’t have any children. We sat down and thought about it. It seemed that to bring a child into a house where their mother could spend long periods unable to look after them was a bad thing to do. We made the choice some years ago and given how my health has been subsequently we were right. We made an adult choice and we live with that every day. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t and isn’t painful. I say 'we' but my marriage broke up after 23 years due in no small part to the effect of my illness. When we married I was 25 and the prognosis was that the illness would lessen and in at worst 7 years it would be gone. I'd grow out of it.

I am writing now because I feel awful, my hands ache the tears of weariness and anguish are running down my face. The brain fog is ghastly and I feel so alone and isolated. My next major birthday I am 54. I have not learned to scuba dive. I didn’t become a marine biologist. In some ways it would not be over dramatic to say this illness has ruined my life. Certainly it has ruled it, changed it, made it unpredictable, difficult, at times nearly unbearable.

I saw a child on the TV the other night, recently diagnosed with ME/CFS, he is lying there, another little grey shape in a bed (we all go that way) and I saw the desperation in his mother and recognised myself and my mother. The silent scream of horror I had at seeing it all happening again was from the depths of my being.

That the scream was silent is partly because I don’t have the strength to scream and partly because I have no words. It is not just me – the English Language has not got the words.

I had a really bad flare which put me in hospital unable to walk in Oct 2018 and I’m still housebound/bedbound dealing with the consequences. Applied for disability benefit got a home visit and didn’t score a single point even after 40 years I am not believed. Too ill to fight for it and terrified about the future. My incredible Mum stepped in again to take care of me when this latest flare happened. I have no words to express my combined gratitude and shame for being this kind of endlessly needy daughter. l when, at this age I should be taking care of her.

Originally Written September 2012.

Header Artwork originally by me aged 15.

Added to in 2015 after my marriage broke up.

Updated July 2018 and again Feb 2020 for #MEAwarenesshour on Twitter every Wednesday share relevant content with the hashtag to help raise awareness.

Reposted July 2020 to send to @OxMEDiscovery

#mecfsartist #mecfswarrior #meawarenesshour #mecfs #myalgicencephalomyelitis #myalgic encephalomyelitis #MEawarenessweek #me awareness month #millionsmissing

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jojosthetic-boogaloo · 5 years

Note

Hello, I'm back! I'd really like a matchup please (M!)! I'm a white girl, who is 5'4" with green/blue and gold brown eyes and wavy to slightly curly extremely dark brown hair. I love to read (mostly historical fiction), write stories, and play video games, most of which are on the rpg genre. Most of my friends say that i am very nice and willing to help anyone who needs it, as well as having a very dark sense of humor. Most people don't know that i also have a really bad short temper, that used

Welcome back, Emily dear! Thank you so much for the kind words!!! <3 The matchup is all yours, hope you like it! //AND sorry for taking a while!!! Lemme tag you (if tumblr lets me) so you get the notification @emilyd-i-c-k-ens ;;//

Okay this is gonna sound a bit weird, but at first I didn’t know who to match you up with! Why? Because except on the physical aspect, you and I are pretty similar! Imagine the struggle of not just slapping in here a moodboard of my biggest stinky jojo crush...

NO MATTER! I found the answer in the end! And it’s double, so bare with me please!

Translation: “Love, with you by my side, I can do anything!”

Narancia Ghirga!

He just finds your natural charm and mature air tremendously magnetic. It’s like you’re exactly the balance he needs in his life.

You met at the movies when you went to see the same one, you went by yourselves so when you sat down and saw the theater almost empty and the single spot between you two vacant, Narancia just decided to sit next to you and give you a bright smile to start up chatting before the movie started rolling.

You had time to introduce yourselves, and you heard him ramble on how much he liked this kinda movies! He was so excited it made you feel his own excitement in return, making you naturally relaxed and bubbly around him.

When you got out of the movies, he chatted with you about it all the way outside, with your small input from time to time when he slowed down for a second. Once outside under the night’s sky, he seemed to look around curious, raising an eyebrow and looking back at you while scratching the back of his head. “Say, Y/N, is no one coming to fetch you? It’s pretty late to walk around alone...” He drifted off, even more surprised when you shook your head to confirm that, in fact, no one was coming.

“Well, in that case, I’ll walk you to your house, if you don’t mind it!” He asserted, showing you some quite comical flexing and posing to pretend he was strong and fearsome. “Alright, let’s get going then, Narancia.”

You didn’t live that far from the theater, so it didn’t worry you to make him lose his own path back to his own place. While you walked in silence, his hands in his pockets and kicking the occasional peeble on the pavement, he seemed to steal quick glances on your direction, thinking you didn’t notice.

“Something on my face, Nara?” You asked, both amused and curious. His reaction made you chuckle, as he shook his head from side to side violently and turned his gaze away from you. “No it’s...” He started, quietly. After a sigh from him, he finished his sentence. “You look pretty, that’s it.” Even if his tone sounded uninterested, you knew full well he was actually very embarrassed. The shade on his cheeks and his slight pout gave him away.

“Why, thank you, you look handsome too.” He gave you a look, his lips contorted into a lopsided smile and his eyes cast into the ground before him. Taking one of his hands to the back of his head, he kept walking with a small smile on his face. “Well, thanks, Y/N.” That was the first time a girl as pretty as you had called him handsome. Hell, the only one that called him that sometimes had been Buccellati when he asked if an outfit was ill-fitting on himself.

Before you’d realized, you stood at your door, turning to face him and give him a smile. “Thank you Narancia, it was a pleasure to walk home with you.” You started, not expecting the dark haired male to almost instantly extend his arm towards you, firmly grasping a phone in his hand that pointed in your direction. “P-please, could I have your number, Y/N?” Silence, and Ghirga felt some sweat beads on his temples. “I-I mean, I just really want to keep taking because you’re so nice and, and we like the same stuff and well I-” He was cut off by you gently hoovering your index finger on his lips, taking his unlocked phone and introducing your number in his contacts. “Saved.” You announced, giving him back his device and turning around once more, and waving him off with a little amused smile on your face.

He gave a little jump in front of your now closed door, that you didn’t fail to notice since you could see him through the window right next to it. This adorable gesture made you let out an amused small chuckle and a hand be brought to your chest. He was a cute one, and you wanted to get to know him better.

Almost around midnight, a text message entered your notifications from a new number, and you smiled. You couldn’t fall asleep thinking on how well your evening went, and the cause of that state just texted you without even thinking that people are usually asleep at that hour.

“Wanna go the arcade tmrrw??” Yes! You wanted to! And you let him know.

You went to the arcade and spent a wonderful time in there! He’d playfully bump your shoulders together when playing on the racing games, making you lose your balance to give him advantage. Whine even if he was amused when you beat him in crane games, and even sticking his arm inside with the risk of sticking it inside to get you a price that didn’t quite fall right!

It was a cute teddy bear, the perfect size to sit in your palm. Fluffy as all could be, and it held a small heart between its tiny arms. Narancia gave you a shy smile. “It reminds me of you and me, Y/N!” He said, cheery. “Why is that?” You replied between giggles and fist-bumping his shoulder gently. He reluctantly rose his hand to his neck and looked down. “Well.” He started. “We just met it, and it already holds a heart between its hands. You two are similar.” You took a second to understand what he meant, giving him a shy smile. Damn, he really went for it all huh?

“That’s so sweet, Narancia.” You replied, giving him a soft smile and gently grabbing his wrist, only to tug at it and start leading the way. “Come on, I wanna try and beat you on DDR*. Winner gets to challenge the other on whatever they want.”

The violet eyed male blinked a few times before smiling and following after you with an excited step. He was very good at DDR, excellent almost. As you stood both in your positions, one to the other’s side, he was already thinking about what he’d challenge you to.

As soon as the coins slid down the slot and you’d chosen your song, it was clear that neither of you were playing around. Nevertheless, Narancia’s movements were smoother, precise, his “Perfect!!” combo streak never faltering. You, on the other hand, were growing weary. Why’d he have to choose the difficulty? You were trying your best to keep up, when you slid your arms behind you and rested them on the support bar, while looking at the screen and trying to keep up. Unfortunately, last minute, when you tried to step on the correct arrow, your foot slipped and you fell on your butt, the last 4 arrows going by and the song ending with a nice little tune. Of course, Narancia had won.

“Y/N! Are you okay??” He missed his last notes to come immediately help you up though; and you couldn’t help but smile at him and swat your free hand to make him rest assured, while your other hand was the one he held tightly to help you. “I’m... fine, don’t worry.” You stared at him, he was close.

He gave you a lopsided smile, never letting go of your hand as he almost hoovered over you, you could barely feel his chest press on yours. “You know what, I think I know what I challenge you to, Y/N.” He started, tilting his head slightly to the side as he gave your face a short scan with his beautiful eyes up and down.

“Yeah? ... What is it?” You replied, your voice quiet, feeling a weird sensation turn and tighten in your stomach, your heartbeat in your ears. He smiled, showing you his slightly pointy canines and leaning close to place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I challenge you to have another date with me, next time, we can meet in my apartment, I got Danganronpa on my PC.” You raised your eyebrow and gave his shoulder another soft punch. “That, that fills me with hope.” You replied, making him chuckle and gently let go of you, holding his hands behind his back. “Well then, it’s settled!” He exclaimed, balancing his body on his feet one time on his tip toes and one time on his heels. “I would have been filled with despair, otherwise.”

You laughed at his reference and gave him an amused smile. You liked him, you really did.

After you start dating some months later, he’s just... a wonderful boyfriend, you really have no complaints. He loves to laze around with you at home, playing whatever games you particularly enjoy. He particularly loved to watch you play Stardew Valley, he found it relaxing, even if sometimes, he got pouty and was overly clingy almost not letting you move when he noted that “You married a small pixel character and had two children and he was stuck as the pillow boyfriend”. You smacked him softly when he said such stupid things, but, it made you laugh, and he knew that.

Get ready for lots of cuddling and just physical affection while you watch movies at home together. Sometimes, you’ll feel him shake if something on the movie disturbed him. Occasional screaming when he gets scared. You noted he feels more distressed when watching indie horror movies, such as the Blair Project. He claims “he just likes the adrenaline they give him” when you ask him why he watches if he’s scared.

Fugo Pannacotta!

He finds support and understanding in you, he sees you as a strong pillar, he really admires you! As a person who’s had some problems with keeping his rage under check, he finds your understanding of the situation very assuring; he feels like a completely normal guy when he’s with you.

He thinks you’re the most interesting person around that does not get on his nerves, ever. (Narancia, does, even if he loves him very much, all has to be said.) You read very interesting books too! He respects that hobbie, sometimes he’ll sit with you to read his own and then quietly comment on how’s each other’s lecture going.

Your dark humor... He loves it. Each time you crack a way too dark for normal comfort joke, he absolutely cracks up. He just really likes how you have no trouble saying such things, besides, that’s his type of humor too man! He loves that!

He really likes your eyes! That’s a weird trait, but he really likes to focus on people’s eyes, and yours were so pretty and full of depth, he really liked what your eyes communicated. It made him feel assured and relaxed around you.

A smaaaaall side note on the * ; For the younger peeps, DDR means Dance Dance Revolution. And in my time (I mean i’m not THAT old but yeah), it was basically the most popular, fun and stressing dance game there was at the arcade back then. Now it’s rare to find one of those machines, at least where I live!

#narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #matchup #moodboard matchup #jojosthetic-boogaloo #emilyd-i-c-k-ens

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lunaraen · 5 years

Note

G'morning! (It's 00:30 where I live, ahaaaa...). If you're still taking requests, I'd quite like to see something about F. Jesse and Ivor having that first awkward encounter/conversation after the Witherstorm. I've always wondered what would be going through each of their minds in that circumstance. Thank you in advance :D

It should hurt.

A distant part of Jesse is verycertain it does.

For the most part, though? She’snumb. Everything lasts too long and yet each moment blends into the next in atwisted blur, something in her chest stinging, sharp and painful, while shefeels nothing, her entire body cold and limp. She walks, she smiles, she givespep talks, and her lips strain with every motion, her legs aching with everystep.

(Jesse’s so tired.

Maybe sleeping would help, butthere are too many people and there’s too much to do and she can sleep later, not now,any time but now even if now won’t end,“later” never quite coming.)

She wants to go to bed, collapsebehind some rock or tree, and wake up back home, in her tree house with Reuben.She wants, above all else, to wake up in bed with him at her feet, rather thanrocks digging into her back and Reuben haunting every other thought.

It’s just not possible.

Admittedly, Jesse’s more and moretempted by the idea of just falling asleep and never waking up.

But that’s not a whole lot morepossible. Not when her friends need her, when countless strangers are lookingto her for guidance and confidence she doesn’t have.

That’s part of why she’s where sheis now, stumbling more than walking, trudging not into the darkness but awayfrom the main part of their camp. Jesse’s not looking to fight anything, swordat her side just in case anyway, and stays within the dispersed ring ofhundreds of torches they have spanning so many meters in every direction. Shejust wants to be somewhere a little less blindingly bright, somewhere where’sshe’s not so closely surrounded by exhausted and sleeping people who deserveevery bit of their rest.

An equally big part may have todo with how she can smell coffee, a desperate and curious part of her clingingto that. If she can’t sleep forever, well, the dramatic opposite is that shewon’t sleep at all, and coffee helps with chasing away the sleep andnightmares.

Jesse pauses, freezing with onefoot midair, as one of the people sleeping on the ground twitches, theirsleeping bag pulled up enough to cover their head.

It’s not until they settle againthat she finishes stepping over them, shoulders relaxing as she exits one ofthe most outer throngs of sleeping people and keeps quietly walking, doing thesame silent march through whats little more than a field of torches andsupplies abandoned for the night.

Step, step, pray there’s not atwig to snap under a boot in her next step, keep stepping.

(This would, in hindsight, beeasier without her armor, but taking it off would be disrespectful to Ellegaardand feels too final and vulnerable an act. They’re safer now, but they’re notdone yet.

Every step, one and then two, alittle more hesitant but no less routine, feels as much like its own challenge,its own risk, now as when its broad daylight.

She hears monsters that aren’tthere and screams people are no longer making. She feels almost ready to drawher sword on the smallest of shadows, and certainly feels ridiculous about itall. It’s nearly over, and the hardest part, the hardest actual battle, isover. She doesn’t have the right to jump at monsters that aren’t there, likesome traumatized adventurer or amazing hero.

That’s the sort of trauma thathappens to people who have survived incredible things, and while Jesse’s plentytraumatized, she’s no hero. Now’s not the time to start acting like it.)

Jesse’s not actually planning ondisturbing whoever else is up and brewing coffee in the middle of the night,but she’s curious all the same. The smell is stronger away from the heart ofthe hundreds of sleeping people, and if someone wants their privacy, she canrespect that. But if someone else is having trouble, they also deserve ashoulder to lean on.

It’s the most Jesse can do rightnow, unable to return to building without making too much noise or doingsomething wrong when it’s better laid out in stored away plans.

Still, all plans of comfort turnto dust and ash, uncomfortably stuck in her throat when she sidesteps aparticularly large pile of equipment to find Ivor on the other side, legscrossed as he sits by a makeshift fire. The kettle’s no longer boiling, a lazy,never-ending plume of steam and the smell of coffee still slowly wafting off ofit from where it’s set beside him.

The silence is not pleasant.

Really, it’s stifling and plainawkward, more awkward than she was already preparing for. They aren’t just twopeople who deserve their rest and are up far too late; they’re two peoplewho’ve been part of this disaster since the beginning, albeit starting ondifferent sides.

Funny that they should be two ofthe people to see the entire thing through.

Jesse doesn’t think they’vereally spoken since the battle, even as Ivor’s diligently worked alongside therest of them to provide healing potions and whatever other aid he can brew up.

Ivor shifts without a word,moving to the side and patting the grass beside him. It’s a small invitation,as unexpected as it is silent, but Jesse takes it, settling where he sat not amoment ago. It’s better than having to stare at each other from across thefire, but the discomfort doesn’t exactly vanish with the two of them sittingside by side.

Her eyes are stinging and herattempt at a greeting isn’t almost anything, a choked sound lodged in herthroat that doesn’t manage to make it to words.

Ivor, in turn, forgoes a greetingof his own.

Instead, he cuts painfully closeto everything Jesse was planning to never talk about.

“There’s nothing to beashamed of, in grieving.” Maybe it’s written over her face now, maybe it’sbeen written all over her since they started traveling and rebuilding. “Italways hurts to lose someone.”

And there’s a wistful quality tohis voice, one that nearly everyone seems to have, that tired, hollow look inhis eyes that Jesse’s seen over and over in so many people lately, eyes withdark, nearly purple circles under them, and she’s speaking before she reallyknows it.

“I’m sorry for your–”No, it’s wrong, that’s wrong, it’s too mechanical (she’s said it too many timesto too many people in the past few days but something like that should neverever sound routine) and it’s the last thing she has the right to say. Jesse’smouth closes fast enough she nearly bites her tongue, back rigid and her nailsdigging into some part of her skin, past the gloves into her hands (her palms?They’re still too sore from building to tell, too numb from everything else).

I’m sorry for your loss.

People have lost homes, beenseparated from friends, lost livestock and pets, had precious mementos rippedfrom them and exploded into nothing. Loss is everywhere. Even the peopleinsisting they’ve lost nothing have had something or another ripped from them;she doesn’t think one person’s really kept their peace of mind.

There’s been a lot of mourning, alot of moving forward, and a lot of condolences. That won’t work here, now, atthis time with Ivor.

Apologizing for his loss would bedistancing herself from it, acting like Ellegaard’s death wasn’t directlyJesse’s fault. Begging for forgiveness is more appropriate. A million otherapologies spring to mind, scramble their way onto her tongue as her body staystoo stiff, and Ivor manages to beat every single one.

“And I’m sorry foryours.” Jesse feels something warm, something akin to rage or pain, spark atthat, and she smothers it before it can become anything. Ivor’s voice hitchesas he tries to continue, and she thinks he’s expecting that warmth, expectingher to lash out at him with it. “I–”

He swallows, and Jesse waits.

“I regret so many things. Icould spend an eternity lamenting so much of what I’ve done, what I’ve said,the things I never acted on but should have. All the things I never should haveconsidered but did.” His voice is gentle, still, but his hand is by farsteadier as he picks up a mug Jesse didn’t notice and the kettle, motionssmooth in a way his words aren’t as he begins to pour. “And yet, I havenever regretted anything more than stealing that blasted block, or using it tomake that abomination. I can’t give back what I took, Jesse. If I could, Iwould.”

Ivor presses the mug into Jesse’shands, the coffee swirling without spilling and just as steamy as the kettle,and it takes her several moments too long to realize the drink’s for her.

“I know.”

His voice turns the sharpestshe’s heard in–days? weeks?–a while, his scowl as stern and nearly as bitteras his words.

“Then stop apologizing likeyou had anything to do with it– with herdying. With the world being turned on its head. With losing Reuben.” Ivorpauses, pinching at the bridge of his nose with fingers thin enough to almostbe skeletal, and the venom eases away as quickly as it came. “I killed oneof the brightest, most creative, inspiring people to have ever spawned. She wasone of my best friends, once, and I ended up bringing about her doom. I killedEllegaard. Just as recklessly and unintentionally, I killed Reuben. You lostone of your best friends.”

It’s relieving in a way it shouldn’t be to have it addressed as it is.

Reuben might have been a pig, but he was never just a pig to her. He was the best pet anybody could ask for, and to hear Ivor talk about him that way makes her choke up for different reasons.

“Maybe you should stopapologizing like you had anything to do with it.” There’s a ghost of asmile from Ivor at the echo, and Jesse counts it a success even as her own weaksmile crashes and burns. “You didn’t sneak Reuben aboard with me, or tryand have him land anywhere but the lake. I should have noticed. You didn’t failto grab him, didn’t take Ellegaard’s armor.”

“But I uprooted your life,didn’t I? All our lives? Shook the very foundation of what you knew, yes, butalso what you had? Your home? Your friends?” He looks away. “Petra’sridiculously fortunate to not have any lasting nerve damage.”

Jesse hears the unspokeninsinuation: they’re not sure she doesn’t.Petra doesn’t seem to, and that’s enough for Jesse now, but it’s a worryingthought.

She looks up at the moon, asbright and speckled as ever, and she wonders why it gets to stay the same. Howit dares be the same moon now, glowing as much in their darkest moments as itdid when they were happy, when Jesse’s biggest adventures involved forestescapades and building competitions.

There are better sources to bebitter at than the moon, and while she doesn’t find Ivor guilty the way heapparently does, Jesse knows she herself makes a plenty fair target. Evenstill, she didn’t act without reason, just like Ivor didn’t.

“…none of this would haveeven happened if Soren hadn’t lied about the Ender Dragon.”

Jesse doesn’t really know whatkind of response to expect, but Ivor’s chuckle, worn and weary and so close tobeing a bark of a laugh, isn’t it.

“It would be easy, to blamehim. He isn’t exactly here to defend himself.” In Jesse’s eyes, there area lot of other reasons for why it’s easy to blame Soren, but Ivor’s the lastperson she needs to explain that to. “I’ve spent a good deal of my lifeblaming him for things. Things he played a hand in, certainly, but not thingshe could entirely control. How different would it be, I wonder, if just one ofthem had sided with me. How different would things be if I’d never objected atall? How different if any of us had noticed him taking the command blockalong?”

If anyone has answers, it isn’t Jesse.

Ivor doesn’t seem to know muchbetter himself.

“I thought he was beingclever, however vile and manipulative the cheating itself was. Of course he’dnever intended to let us do our part. Of course he’d want to orchestrate theentire thing just to his liking, with everyone safe and used like pawns.”Teeth are the first to show as his lips twist into a snarl and the first to behidden as Ivor’s expression softens. “Of course he’d want everyone safe.That was something Soren would never negotiate on. However wretched a light Ipaint him in, he deserves credit for that. He’d never let Ellegaard die, not ifhe had any say in it, never let anyone get so close to death.”

Not himself, certainly.

“He didn’t care enough aboutus being in danger when it meant saving his own skin.”

“Fair enough. He’s acoward.” Intended to be funny or not, it’s straightforward enough tostartle a small laugh out of Jesse. “He recognized the risks and decidedthey were too much. But he’s not the master manipulator I’ve seen him as for solong. He’s flawed; human. Who wasn’t scared, then? I’m hardly any better; Iabandoned you in the nether, and brought this entire mess down upon us to beginwith.”

By Ivor bringing it back to them,trying to center it on him, Jesse’s reminded of how this disaster in particularis still her fault. Ivor had a fail-safe, after all, a means to end what wassupposed to be a short demonstration, and he was hardly to blame for saidfail-safe being nabbed.

“…it wouldn’t have been aproblem for anybody if I didn’t steal your potion.”

“Jesse, you saved the world. That’s not something totake lightly, not when leaving it to somebody else would’ve been easier andsafer for you. My safest course of action was not making a monster. Instead, Itore what remained of my best friends apart, killed one of them, and let herdie in Soren’s arms.” Ivor glances over his shoulder, briefly, and Jessedoesn’t wonder what he’s trying to see past the pile.

Magnus and Gabriel have beendiligent in their help, and she appreciates that too, but there are a number ofless than pleased people among them. The two of them tend, more often than not,to set up camp further from the heart of wherever they set up for the night.

Gabriel’s armor gleams decentlyin the moonlight, and she can see it glinting from here.

Ivor clears his throat in whatmay be a huff, and he’s watching her now.

“It’ll be a miracle if theyever speak to me again. Magnus might eventually run out of steam, but Gabriel’salways had a very strong sense of justice.”

…that’s an interesting way todescribe an old friend who betrayed him, pushed Ivor away and ignored him as ifhe were a stranger, someone who lived the life of a respected hero and lied tothe world for years even before Jesse’s spawning.

“Not enough to keep him fromlying.”

“If I know him half as wellas I once did, it’s been eating at him every moment since.” Ivor’s legsshift, one straightening before bending to allow him to rest his elbow on itsknee, and he’s smiling weakly as he turns his head to look at her. There’s awarmth, a tired, mournful sort, in his gaze, hidden as it is by the long bangsgripped in one hand, barely kept from shifting in front of his face. “I’mnot going to try and make you forgive them or see them in a kinder light. Youinherited our mess, our lies and schemes, and fixed it far better than we evertried to.”

“It doesn’t feel thatway.” Disheveled as Ivor seems right now, he still has more control,visibly, than Jesse even halfway feels. “You all seem so experienced, andeven my friends seem to know what to do, how to do it. They’re great at helpingpeople, and I’m so scared of making things worse, Ivor. What do they need mefor?”

“Jesse.” The stern toneis back, gentler but not without an edge. She gets the feeling he’s had enoughof the circular pity cycle they’ve been going through. “…ultimately,even in the most pessimistic and cruel of lights, it’s obvious they need you astheir leader. They need you as a friend, as someone to lean on and to catchthem before they fall. They all trust each other, and you, to make sure no oneelse gets hurt. And truly, you’ve done so much already for all of us that youseem the most experienced for guiding, for making the tough decisions no onewants to.”

“Great.” Jesse’s tone,in turn, is as quiet as it ought to be this late, but it’s not without its ownbackbone. “But I’m not. I don’t know anything about helping or leadingthis many people. I don’t know how to tell them things will be okay when theysaw their homes, their towns and cities, everything they’ve ever known, getripped to bedrock.”

“It’s not a situation mostpeople are prepared for.” Ivor’s boot shifts, nudging her own. There’sanother rush of shame, of feeling lesser. How must he feel, seeing her paradeday after day in his dead best friend’s armor? “You’ve done remarkablywell all the same.”

“I–”

“Well, save for your poorsleep schedule. You’re worried about your friends counting on you? Maybe makesure you’re awake, healthy, and ready for when they do, rather than fallingasleep on your feet.”

“Hey, I’ve been doingwell.” Ivor raises an eyebrow as he lifts the mug from her hands, raisingan eyebrow, and Jesse’s nodding before she’s even trying to figure out when shedrank all the coffee in it. Her throat doesn’t feel like it’s in any pain, butit’s about as numb as the rest of her.

Ivor, apparently, wonders thesame for slightly different reasons.

“You have. I’m amazed youhaven’t burned yourself with your coffee yet.” He pours himself a fullcup, and, hypocrite that he is, downs it in one swift movement without wincing.Jesse’d be impressed if she weren’t busy pouting. “At this rate, though,you’re going to fall over dead or start slipping up at dangerous moments. Do usall a favor and catch a little shuteye.”

“…you too.” Shenudges his foot back before pulling herself to her feet, limbs feeling asstretched and stiff as her armor. “We’re not going to get very far veryquickly without some amazing potions.”

His grin is as sly as her own,his voice with a different, more sarcastic edge.

“Ah, of course. I can assureyou you’ll have them.” There’s one last pause as she dusts herself off,and his voice is gentle once again. “And I’ll try and rest, Jesse. Youshould really do the same.”

…she will.

If only for her friends, shewill.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #Anonymous

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sarcasm-loathing-blog · 5 years

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She stumbled in as another strong gust of wind pushed her into the building, the left double door caving in and flinging open, banging against the wall. The sudden slam echoed into the living room and empty space, causing her to grimace and scramble to close the door. So much for stealthy.

The chilling sounds of an oh so familiar cartoon reached her ears. She averted her gaze to a nearby wall as she shut and locked the door behind her, feeling the harsh breeze rattling the doorknob as she did so. She could hear the show, but at the same time she could somehow still see the up and down jerky mouth movements of the ship on the screen, that horrible horrible laugh. She had a bad rep with the show, having watched one episode as a kid, that kind of cut cable from her family forever. It was just a fucking show, but dear god it was sickening, especially the character, the skin taker. His mouth movements weren't particularly pleasing, he grinded his teeth left to right instead of the normal way a puppet should, up and down.

After her silent and short lived panic cooled down, she brushed herself off like something had stuck to her whilst she had made her way to the mansion, that wasn't the case, every hair was in place, not a single thing had ruined her appearance, because she was perfect. She strived to be the embodiment of perfection.

Ever so casually, she heaved the heavy backpack off of her shoulders before slinging it onto one of the rings of the sturdy coat rack, testing the stability before letting go and turning her head towards the three or so figures hanging on the couch, watching-that show. It should be static to her by now, right? Right?

She narrowed her eyes at the characters, trying to identify them with what little light shed onto their figures from the soft luminescent glow of the screen, then-it clicked. Sideburns, Ashy, and Goggles McGhee. Three of whom she didn't exactly interact with-well, what do you expect, with the higharchy of this damned mansion, you would be a fool to even glance at the musketeers with what authority they had. She began to back away, her clammy hands folding together as a possible comfort technique.

They all seemed fixated on the small retro TV, she often wondered how the hell they got cable and electricity all the way out here, she's made a theory that there was some sort of electrical system only for pastas or something, but its an extremely weak theory. She rolled her eyes and silently scoffed, uninterested in the activity. Its safe to say she hasn't watched TV in a while, 5 years at best, considering her RV just barely has electricity, she doesn't need a TV-well, she wish she had one, sort of.

Sideburns, or Masky, to others, sat with him. It would be foolish to address a proxy as an equal, she had a silent respect for them both, strong powerful beings whom don't have to slave away with a broom every day. They're living the life-well, not exactly. She was one who was allowed to remember her past life, give or take she had succumbed to the fact she had no hope of returning to it in the future.

Suddenly, as quick as a crack of lightening, Ashy turned his head away from the screen, the black endless orbs of the mask peering into the darkness, she heard a deep inhale. What was it doing? She deemed him it for just a moment, his movements so animalistic you could actually feel the wild like aura he held. Oh god, his gaze had directed om her. He made a movement with his hand, seeming to slap Sideburns on the shoulder with the back of his hand, causing Sideburns to startle a bit before glancing back over his shoulder. Well, this is-she didn't know what to call it. Disturbing? Unnerving? She didn't like the position she was in, then-Ashy began to rise from the couch, he began to speak-there was a raspy undertone in his voice, like he doesn't use it a lot, something seemed to creep from his words, something slimy and black with a bunch of tiny legs.

"Who are you."

It seemed more like a demand then a question, she flinched on instinct as she felt eyes almost immediately peer towards her in the darkness.

"Your dad, im back with cigs"

Ashy seemed to be narrowing his eyes-or lack of, definitely lack of, on her. She swollowed the hard forming lump in her throat as she tried to turtle into her clothes, seemingly phased by the cold glare that the being was somehow directing at her.

She froze in place, only then realizing that she was backing away, the heels of her boots scuffing the peeling yellowed hideously wallpapered wall behind her as she drew her arms to her chest, her head lowering to cover her neck in case the figure went for a punch to her throat. How does someone answer that?

"Hey, my name is Trinity, im the fucking maid who washes the skid marks from your undies, good luck holding a proper conversation with me because the only thing I want to talk about is how fucking horrible my job is, I hadn't had proper social interaction in, like 5 years!"

Yea, that would totally work, her hand slid into her coat, fingering the Browning high power 9 mm pistol that bounced at her hip. It gave her a raw sense of empowerment, like she was a ring leader, and Eyeless jack was a lion.

"My name is Trinity. I clean up around here, I usually do it at night, but I had something to do last night and never had to opportunity."

She was mildly impressed by the steady dull flat tone she used and how she was able to speak over a mumble. She didn't get to cocky yet, how would they believe her? Did she have to whip out her bottle of Windex and cleaning rags?

"That's a nice name."

Masky was a little unamused by the female. Sure, he may not of seen her before, but no, she doesn't faze him. He blinked slowly, then looked over at Jack. Look, it'll be pretty sad seeing this gremlin of a woman try and fail to fight this hulking figure, so he decided to give her a hand and take her word for it. Most creatures couldn't pass through the mushroom circle anyways.

His voice sounded deep, as though he hasn't slept for a couple of centuries, with a bit of a smokers cough. He didn't introduce himself, who cares for casualties? His gaze darted towards Goggles McGhee , instead of soaking the drama in, the male was leaning forward, fixated on the static covered screen as if it was the most engrossing morning cartoon he's ever watched. Sideburns rolled his eyes underneath the black opaque fabric covering the eyeholes of his mask before glancing back at the gorl.

She pursed her lips together, her eyebrows knitting in confusion as the words had rolled around in her mind, slowly peacing together into a sentence, a little lightbulb finally flicked on inside her mind as she nodded slowly. "Thank you-?" It seemed more like a question, its been a while since she actually-got a compliment, you know? Because she was the embodiment of loneliness.

Ashy, on the other hand, would need a bit more convincing. If he could, he would have already tackled her to the ground and ripped out her spine from her still squirming soon to be corpse, but something was nagging him in the back of his mind, something was telling him that maybe she was telling the truth. He ignored that tiny thought, his hand sliding into the grey worn and bleach stained hoodie he adorned before fingering the warm smooth metal of the blade. It felt alive, due to how his body tempature was keeping it warm.

"I smell bullcrap."

"It's probably your upper lip."

Her gaze adverted back to Ashy, a frown tugging on her lips as she cocked her head. "Well, im sorry to hear that, would you like me to elaborate?" She held a snarky comment on the back of her tongue, it pressed against her teeth, struggling to push out before she heard the soft thump of a stuffed toy hitting a step and the pats of tiny feet hitting the smooth floorboards of the second story hall. There was a flash of a dirty salmon color in the corner of her eye before it dissapeared, She couldn't keep one eye on jack and the other on the toy, so she kept her eyes on jack, but did address the toys presence for future reference.

Jack turned his head, listening in-a giggle erupted from the hallway, high pitched and playful. Sally. Ashy couldn't see Sally, also known as button eyes-but he could smell her. She always smelt of letting meat and sugar cookies. His defensive attitude kicked in as he gripped his scalpel in a vice-like grip, bristling like an angry cat at this point “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t belong here, if you worked here over night then I'd at least would have picked up your scent.” he growled, his heart rate picking up.

His chest hurt, the goop kept streaming from his sockets, he felt his headache lightly at the back of his skull as he rolled his shoulders.

"Well, if you were able to smell me, then you'd possibly be able to smell yourself and take a bath for once, news flash-you reek of death."

The words left her mouth before she could comprehend what was happening, she mentally struggled to shovel them back down her gaping maw before it was too late, a flash of regret misted her eyes, but it was true, even from here, she could smell the rotting flesh interlaced between with teeth and underneath his nails. This seemed to silently enrage him. "Look-you, do I need to prove it? This place would be a fucking dump without me." She jabbed her thumb into her chest, her eyes narrowed into an ice spiked glare, she was going all out with this.

She felt angry, frustrated, scared, etc.... Why the hell was she even having this argument in the first place? It was clear that this person was insignificant and unimportant-no, that's not true, that's definitely not true, they were important, they were strong, they could kill her.

Sideburns looked back and forth to who was talking. The conversation was going nowhere, the two only threw threats at one another whilst also trying to gain the upper ground, it was aggravating. He blinked hard, almost shed a tear, but he's extremely dehydrated. His tiredness was getting the best of him, which is a bad thing in this situation.

"Look, how about we let her go, besides, she cleans. I mean, it's like arguing with a janitor, you're not going anywhere if they speak Spanish."

She was tempted to gasp melodramatically, how dare he compare her to a janitor-but she didn't, she kept silent, ever so slowly closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to suppress the oncoming headache. Dear lord, save her soul, she didn't ask for this, she didn't ask for this job, it just came to her. In all honesty, she wanted to crawl into a ball and dissapear into a black endless void, she was edgy like that-no, she actually wanted to be home. She wanted to be back at home before she had moved away from college, back with her mom and three brothers, as they danced in the bare widely spaced living room to music. Those were the good times, before she changed her hair and begun to wear eyeliner and smoke pot. Before she met all her horrible wreckless teenage friends, back when she was as free as a bird.

Ashy then, at the last moment, reconsidered before forcing himself to put his weaponry away back into the hoodie pocket it had previously resided in, such a shame he couldn’t use it today.

“If you make one wrong move or even lay a finger on Sally you won’t be so lucky...” he said with a snarl.

Jack turned his back to the woman with one final glance before turning back and giving his sleeve a sniff, even through his mask he could smell how horrid the stench emitting from his body was, his nose wrinkling in disgust. She was somewhat right, he hasn't bathed in a while.

"I'm sorry, who?"

She didn't know who this "Sally" was, perhaps it was the figure that had raced away, leaving the stuffed toy behind. She felt a bit more relaxed, give or take she no longer was an antelope dangled by the bind legs above a pit full of tigers, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, almost forming a small smile before dropping.

Thank the Lord, someone changed the channel, that droning static of candle cove was enough to make her want to rip her eyes and ears out as she envied the death. She felt a bit more clumsy now, with both her actions and her words, she needed to stay sharp, at any moment, Ashy could lunge at her and plunge that tiny little weapon of his into her gut, she wasn't a fan of dying.

"Hey, I was watching that!"

Goggles McGhee flung his hands upwards a bit before shaking his head and cussing underneath his breath. Sideburns had begun to flip through channels to see what else was on besides that creepy cartoon, he eventually landed on some sort of modeling show, the clothes they wore were hideous and it seemed that 20 gallons of hair spray held each models hair in place.

After getting little to no response, she rolled her eyes and grimaced, disgusted in her own behavior, but she couldn't help but let a sense of satisfaction and entitlement seep into her as she crossed her arms. Now then, what shall she do first? She supposed cleaning the fridge out should be what she should start off with, if she survives that, the rest of her chores would seem to be mildly easy. She turned on her heel, heading towards the kitchen with the black snakey like tail dragging behind her, whipping or flicking slightly.

Once she entered the kitchen, she noticed how dark in the room it was, considering the grime on the outside windows and the blackout curtains on the inside, her hand reached up, patting along the wall for a switch as she tried to peer through the darkness. "We're back in harmony." She muttered to herself. It was a small quote from one of her favorite books she had as a young teen, a thick novel of sorts. Finally, she found the switch before flicking it upwards with one hand, almost immedietely the bright shockingly white glare of the light above caused her to hiss and squint in distain, her hands flying to her eyes to cover them as the shock of the sudden light gradually released.

Ever so slowly, she removed her hands from her eyes, dropping them to her sides and taking a moment to review the previous events and peace together what happened. Should she apologise, should she say sorry for even being there? No, she had every right to be there, you shouldn't accuse someone of being an enemy just because you don't see them on a day to day basis. She felt slightly hurt, like she was uninvited in the only work space she had.

She shook her head quickly frim side to side, her glossy dark locks bobbing around before she shuddered. "No, im not going to do that. Risky, risky-" she didn't finish her sentences per usual, how could she? Besides, it wouldn't matter if she apologised or not, in about 4 hours or so she could head back to her RV. In 4 hours, this would be nothing, she would go back to working at night, she would go back to the silence and solitude and peace. This was a mere ripple in her pond of routine.

It was time to get to work.

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