#my wrist is killing me sorry for lack of art the past week

[kaiju-krew]

lazyyy

#get a job bum #my wrist is killing me sorry for lack of art the past week #my limp wrists will not stop me no matter what #my art #godzilla #gxk: the new empire #kaiju #redraw

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #lamp/calm #LAMPR/CALMR #LAMP/CALM + remy ‘sleep’ sanders #tw angst #tw long post #long fic #thelostguardianau #morally grey deceit #for the time being #the aim is that he reach sympathetic but trust aint that easy

[blvirz]

Living Life Through a Lens: Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter 23: You Always Did Look Good in Chanel

Word Count: 8.9K

Warnings: smut

A/N: Hello! Just a heads up. This entire chapter is filled with moments throughout the series between Y/N and Jennie that I didn't know where to fit. Some of which you have only seen from Y/N’s perspective. As I was writing the ending (which is already 6k words long, fck), I went looking through all my drafts, and there were so many points in the story where I wish you could have read from Jennie’s perspective. So that’s what this whole chapter is going to be! I hope you enjoy it.

[7:55 AM KST. Just before the meeting in which Y/N meets Blackpink]

“Jennie! Hurry up! The van is already downstairs, we're going to be late!” you heard Jisoo yell. From where the noise was coming from, you gathered that she was still in her room. You were thankful that she always warned you when it was time to leave, but not when you were just about to do your eyeliner.

Stopping and glancing over, you saw that she too was still getting ready, and so you went back to taking your time. When you were satisfied with how everything looked, you put on some perfume and walked out of your room. At the same time, you and Jisoo both made your way to the front door, and saw Rosé and Lisa already standing there with their shoes on.

Today, you and the members had a meeting with a new director that was supposedly going to film your daily life as well as your life on tour for the next couple of months. Yesterday you and the members spent a few hours watching their previously released documentaries, but you fell asleep. And so, you were a bit worried with the lack of background knowledge, but trusted that the members would catch you up to speed.

Once you were settled in the van and on the way, you noticed that there was something eerie about the drive on your way to work; so quiet and peaceful. Oddly, there was no traffic, and every light had turned green at exactly the right moment for you to pass through. Everything was going perfectly smooth. In less than twenty minutes, which was how long it usually took, you arrived at the front gates of YG.

Approaching the front gates, you saw a crowd of people gathered around. Some of them for you, but some of them had signs for a Y/N Y/L/N? It was all very fast, but you also managed to see a billboard with a picture of you and the members. On it read, BLINKS DEMAND FOR BLACKPINK, written in big white letters. Soon Blinks. We’re coming soon, we have so much planned for you. You thought to yourself.

Like you had done at least a thousand times before, you exited the van and headed into YG. While doing so, you heard the screams of the fans on the way in, but knowing full well of YG’s protocol, you couldn’t stop and had to keep walking. In the elevator on the way up to the meeting you heard your song, Playing with Fire, playing through the speakers. It was Lisa’s verse that was playing and when you looked over at Lisa, she was doing the choreography in hopes of trying to get Jisoo and Rosé to laugh, but before they could the doors of the elevator opened.

Walking with your members alongside you, and your managers in front, you made your way over to the conference room. As you passed the frosty glass wall of the room, you could see that there were a few people already inside. Shit, did I really make us late? Is our boss already in there? Shit. Shit. Shit.

Immediately as you entered, your whole being seemed to gravitate toward one person who was standing on the other side of the room. Looking her up and down you saw that she had her hair tied up, wore a white top, corset, and some blue jeans. And from where you currently stood you could only see her side profile. When she turned and you were able to get a good look at her face, you recognized her. Y/N Y/L/N? As in… the woman from Paris Fashion Week? Am I seeing things? Why– How– You look so– wow.

As you watched Jisoo go to hug Y/N first, you automatically followed and did the same. Pulling her in for a hug, you smelt and recognized her perfume right away. Because it smelled exactly like yours. I think I love you. I didn’t say that out loud, right? Focus Jennie!

“Oh my gosh, this only happens in my dreams,” Y/N said as she hugged Rosé, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

Throughout the entire meeting you could only focus on Y/N. Thinking about how simple yet beautiful her features were. How she was here in front of you. How out of all people, she was the one that your company decided to work with. How. How. And Why.

Even the way she explained things was beautiful to you. She had just the right amount of seriousness, but also the right amount of humour. It had only been a few minutes, but you were convinced that anything and everything she did was just… beautiful.

Is she real? Stop staring! Am I allowed to like you Y/N? Is this appropriate? Wait, what did she just say? Phase one… What was that? What? I get to spend the next year with you? How do I tell the members? Phase two. So many words! Wait for me Y/N!

…

[6:45 PM NZST. Y/N and Jennie fool around at the art exhibit]

“Are you upset about the painting being sold?” Y/N asked while tilting her head in a way so that she could look at your face.

When your eyes met, you tried your best not to shy away from her and looked at her as you answered. With your other members around, her attention had to be divided between the four of you, but now that it was just you two alone, you found yourself a nervous wreck just trying to look at her in conversation.

Quickly you gathered yourself and turned to look at her instead of the ground. Reassuring her by saying, “no not at all! Sorry. I just– I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so my head is all over the place… Shall we continue looking at the other art pieces?” Smooth Jennie. Smooth.

Y/N must have sensed your nervousness and so she gave you a warm smile, and said “sure.”

Thankfully, she didn’t ask why you weren't able to get sleep the night before, and continued on walking. How could you possibly tell her that she was all you thought about, without freaking her out? You thought back to yesterday when you had hugged her from behind, and the face she made when she flinched and turned around to look at you. That alone made you want to crawl into a ball and hide in a very dark corner.

For the past week you have been trying everything to let her know you were interested in her, but she wasn’t biting, or when she did make a move, she was reluctant. You were so sure that she was flirting back. They could have been slightly biased, but even each of your members had said something about it a couple days before. Were you just rushing things? Was she not interested in you? Or was it all a friendly game to her? Either way you had to find out, if not for the sake of your own curiosity then your business relationship; you just weren’t exactly sure how.

Just then, you both walked into the only dark room in the whole exhibit. There was no one in it, and so you both hesitated and swiftly stepped out of it. Every room you had been in previously so far had been well lit, but this one was dark and the only source of light came from a bright pink neon sign that hung on the wall. It read: it was always you.

Surely this was a part of the exhibit. Having both decided that it was safe to enter, an idea popped up into your head as you looked at the bright neon sign once again. So very quickly before Y/N could walk away from it, you pushed her in front of it to capture a photo.

“Will you at least let me see the photo? It’s the least you could do after almost killing me,” Y/N said as she slowly made her way toward you. Fixing her messed up hair as she did.

Both of you gasped when you discovered that it was a well taken photo, despite it being taken in a rush. It was slightly blurry, but the neon sign was clear enough to read in the background, and Y/N had on the brightest smile you had ever seen in your life. The perfect candid shot.

“What is that?” you asked while squinting to look at a large box that sat upright on the other side of the room.

Y/N looked and squinted too before saying, “oh it’s a photo booth!”

And before you knew it, she took your hand in hers and was pulling you toward the opposite end of the room. It was a tight space, but you both fit snugly inside. Was this meant for a single person? You were only a few inches apart, and as the time passed, you could feel your heart begin to beat harder and harder in your chest. To avoid Y/N from noticing it, you pressed the large red button in front of you, and suddenly there was a robotic voice that started counting down from the number three. Throwing the both of you into a panic. Well this is a photo booth Jennie… what were you expecting to happen?

Just before the countdown hit one, you mentioned to make a funny face. When it took the photo and started counting down again, you two settled on smiling at the camera normally. Looking at the screen it showed three empty slots, indicating that there were three photos left for you to take. Why is this so stressful?

For the third photo you posed randomly, and while looking at the screen instead of the camera, for a brief moment you saw Y/N just stare at you. As the countdown began again, you expected her to follow suit and strike a pose, but she didn’t. She sat there staring at you as the flash went off, making your heart melt. Why are you staring at me? Do you stare at all your friends this way?

The fourth photo was of you two staring at each other and laughing. And after the flash went off, there was yet another countdown. What to do for the last photo… What to do… How do I– ah. Okay, this will answer my question.

Without any hesitation or care for what would happen after, you grabbed Y/N’s head and firmly planted a kiss on her cheek. This time she didn’t flinch at the contact or pull away. Instead you felt her face scrunch up, and her hands grab a hold of your wrists. Her skin felt soft, and she smelled like the perfume that you knew all too well.

Unsure if you were just imagining things, but the timer seemed to wind down slower, and with each passing moment you could feel the heat rise up in your cheeks. Thank goodness these photos are in black and white.

The flash went off and still you remained. It wasn’t your fault; her cheeks were just so… kissable. In your mind you swore it was the hardest thing you had to do in a while, but you managed to pull away, and just like that, it was all over.

Suddenly, before either of you could say a word, you heard the sound of what you figured was the curtain being drawn back, at a great speed. Whipping your head back to see who it was, you immediately saw Lisa there. She was jumping up and down all the while shouting the words ‘I was right’ over and over again. Rosé and Jisoo were both behind her clearly not as pleased with the result.

I love you all so dearly… but you guys have the absolute worst timing, you thought.

…

[8:34 AM EST. After Y/N and Jennie decide to be together officially]

Despite it being early in the morning, it was still a bit dark in the house as you made your way down the stairs. So cold too, causing you to fold your sweater and even your arms closed against your body. Each step you took down the stairs was a new and even colder surface for your feet, and so when you saw a pair of slippers waiting for you at the bottom, you picked up the pace at which you descended and quickly shoved your feet inside them.

Y/N was already up and making breakfast for you both. You were only a few feet away from the kitchen and you could hear the clattering of utensils, sizzling sounds of food, and even a few curses mixed in between. When you finally were in the doorway of the kitchen, you looked over and saw Y/N. She had her back facing you as she cooked something on the stove, so very quickly and quietly you walked over to her and hugged her from behind. This time she didn’t flinch.

Automatically, your head rested in the spot between her shoulder blades, and somehow knowing exactly what you wanted to do, she lifted her elbows to allow for your hands to make their way to the front of her stomach. Your fingers now interlocked, and you stood there attached.

It was a close second to being your favourite spot in the whole wide world. No. It was for sure your favourite spot in the whole world. While closing your eyes, you felt the vibrations coming from her back as she spoke. It was mumbled, but you assumed it was something along the lines of “good morning. Would you like some coffee?”,which is what she always said when you two did this in the morning. Before Y/N, you hated waking up so early in the mornings, but lately it was something you looked forward to each night you laid your head to rest. A peaceful breakfast with Y/N. Even better sometimes, was when Lex and the members would join, and you would all sit around the table.

Lost in your thoughts, you felt her push back against you. You didn’t let go and stayed attached firmly on her back. You followed her as she walked the both of you to the other side of the kitchen island, placing some scrambled eggs on both of your plates. After setting the pan down, with her hands she unlatched yours that were around her waist and turned around. “Shall we eat?” she asked.

In the middle of your breakfast, you felt Y/N put her hands on your chair to pull you closer toward her. She got real close and said, “so I thought I would give Lex a break. I was thinking of risking it and venturing out into the nearest town to buy some groceries myself… would you like to come?” As she asked, she placed her hands on your thighs.

Double meaning. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. You thought, and so, challenging her you got even closer and whispered, “I would love to.”

…

“Rosie would like these,” you said as you threw a few bags of potato chips in the cart and continued to push along the aisle.

Y/N, who was looking at her checklist, looked over at what you had thrown in the cart and just laughed. “It’s Rosé this time? Not Jisoo? Or Lisa? Babe… the least you could do is come up with a better lie. I know she doesn’t eat those kinds of snacks, so just say they’re for you. I’m going to buy them regardless. I’ll buy you a whole cart’s worth if that’s what you want.”

Peering inside the cart, it was already full, and you and Y/N had so far only made it through half of the aisles in the store. Y/N had taken you to a tiny grocery store run by a local couple, who seemed peculiarly friendly. But then again, you remembered that everyone here was too friendly.

Walking up and down the aisles you thought about what had happened when you two had first walked in together. The couple immediately noticed Y/N, and got to talking. On accident they called you Irene, which you politely ignored and let them think you were, that is until Y/N introduced you properly. “Ah no. This is Jennie. My ne– my girlfriend,” she stuttered. You smiled back at her as she continued talking to the couple. My girlfriend. Can you say that again?

After Y/N was done catching up, you two went up and down the aisles throwing everything that had caught your eye into the cart. Snapping back into focus, you looked at Y/N as she tried strategically placing some bottles of soda into the overflowing cart. “Okay so I think we have everythin– no wait. One last thing, Rosé said she wanted strawberries. Would you mind getting them while I fix this mess?” Y/N asked as she had her hands full trying to stop a few things from falling out of the cart.

She didn’t have to ask as you were already making your way out of the aisle, but before leaving you said, “okay I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay? Stay here.”

It was a running joke. The members had said something about you two never being apart for no longer than five minutes, and so, you two always said the exact same thing before leaving one another’s sight.

Stubbornly, you stood there waiting for her to say something back. You chuckled as you saw her struggling to keep everything in the cart still. When she turned her attention to look at you instead of the overflowing cart, she had a clear look of distress on her face, but still managed to crack a smile. “I– H– How? Go where? And why would I ever leave without you? Now go please!”

//

[11:04 AM KST. South Korea. Phase two. Filming Jennie’s day-to-day]

It was about the third day into filming your daily schedule with Y/N, and although she held a camera up to film every single thing you did, you were just glad to be in her presence. While away in Japan you were positive that time went by slower over there, but now being back in Korea, with the tour just around the corner, everything was coming at you at full speed. The time apart not only forced you to focus on work, but made you think of what your life was like before Y/N. Having been attached at the hip in the last few months, it would take some getting used to; especially since your days quite literally began and ended with her.

Filming one on one with Y/N was a different dynamic. It wasn’t easy. Particularly the interview session. Being asked questions under bright lights with at least half a dozen cameras recording you from different angles was overwhelming. So having your girlfriend be there to ask you the questions was even harder. She didn’t go easy on you either, some you didn't have to think twice about and could answer quickly, but others dove deep and caught you off guard.

However, you would take what you were currently doing over the interviews any day. What did she call it? B-roll? Before you did anything, Y/N made you explain very briefly what it was that you were doing and then told you to go about it as if she weren’t there. Since you talked to her so much, you found that it was a hard thing to do. In fact, you had already done it a couple of times, and each time, Y/N would have to cut.

Today, your schedule consisted of conducting research. When Y/N had asked you to explain what that meant, you told her, or really the camera, that in order to keep up with the latest fashion trends, you had to go out and look firsthand. To see and feel the quality of the clothes and accessories you needed to stay up to date; research. And each time you explained, you could see her roll her eyes behind the camera.

While walking through all the stores along with your stylist, Y/N lagged behind recording the things you did. With her eyes practically glued to the monitor, you sometimes found her walking into the displays scattered all throughout the store. Earning a laugh from you in the process.

“This is nice– oh and this one and– this one too– omg no this,” you said as you looked through all the clothes on the rack.

“Y/N, doesn’t thi– Crap. Sorry.” The minute you said her name, you apologized for what was probably the 1000th time.

“Cut,” Y/N said while pinching the space in between her eyes.

After placing the camera down on one of the tables in the store, she walked over to you and put both of her hands on your shoulders. Looking you dead in the eyes she said, “Jennie. Please. You. Cannot. Look. Into. The. Camera. Or. Speak. To. Me.” Emphasizing every word.

“Should I just have my assistant record instead?” she asked.

“No! I’ll try harder. Just– It’s so hard not to talk to you when you’re standing right there,” you whined as she walked away.

Y/N picked up the camera again. Before pressing record and signalling to her camera assistant, she said, “just forget that I’m even here.”

Forget you? Never.

…

“Okay I think we got all the shots. We’re done for the week.” Y/N said as she handed her camera over to her assistant, who then proceeded to place it carefully into a padded box.

You couldn’t believe that everything was done, “That’s it? We’re done? Like forever?” you asked just to make sure.

After Y/N could confirm something with her team, they all packed up in the van and left you both behind which had you confused. When she turned around and saw the puzzled look on your face, she said, “yes we’re done. At least with the one-on-one. Filming will start again once the concerts start.”

Still confused, you looked at her and asked “but– our ride?”

While she looped her arm through yours, she pulled you along and started walking along the road. “We’re done early. I thought we could enjoy some time to ourselves. Go for a walk, maybe eat, and shop without an excuse?”

“It wasn’t an excuse! It was research! And how about security?” you asked while looking behind and around you.

“They will meet us at the place we’re going for lunch. For about fifteen minutes you have me alone,” she said as she smiled and winked.

“It’s okay. I only need five,” you said proudly. Seconds later when she figured out what you meant, she let go and crossed her arms over her body.

After the joke was over, Y/N returned to you and automatically her fingers entwined with yours. While walking down the road, you noticed that it was a quiet afternoon, and everything around you had a certain peacefulness to it. Almost nobody was around except for a few shop owners, you and Y/N. The sun was out and there were just enough clouds in the sky to keep it from scorching your skin. It wasn’t humid outside either, and there was a nice breeze too, which was oddly a nice addition to the faint sounds of the highway that you could hear nearby.

“Do you think we would have met someplace else? Like if I didn’t take this job?”

The question came out of nowhere, but because you’ve thought about it before, you already had an answer. “Of course. Another fashion show maybe… or something along the lines of that. Do you?” you asked.

“I thought of that too–” when she cut herself off, you looked over at her and then over at what caught her attention. Up ahead you saw a few paparazzi get out of a van. Instantly she pulled you into another alleyway all the while yelling, “alright I guess we’re going to have to take another route, we gotta run!”

Although it was of no help for either of you to scream, you two did so anyway while running away from the paparazzi. Everything about your life that you thought was negative or even thought of as a slight inconvenience, Y/N always found a way to turn it around and make it interesting and enjoyable; she had a positive impact on just about every aspect of your life.

Let’s do this forever, okay Y/N?

//

[3:30 PM KST. South Korea. After Y/N gifts Jennie her painting]

You and Y/N were lying down side by side in a field, soaking up the sun. It was a few hours after lunch, and you planned a relaxing afternoon picnic in the park. Touring was just about to start, and although you would be together, it was important to fit in times like this where you weren’t expected to work, but just relax and have a good time. But sitting around and doing nothing quickly got boring and you decided to do something that was much more stimulating… according to Y/N, that meant renting bikes, and going for a ride around the park.

“Last one to that large rock over there is a loser!” you heard Y/N shout as she zoomed past you on a bike; her laugh getting quieter as she furiously pedalled away from you.

Right away your competitive nature kicked in, and you started pedaling faster in an effort to catch up to her. Each time you got close, she would look back and pedal even harder, making the gap between you wider. She was toying with you, which only made you want to beat her even more.

However, the race was quickly cut short because something either got caught in your gears or your tire collided with something awkwardly, which caused you to fly off your bike. As you hit the ground, your hands scraped along the gravel and in turn slowed you down to a stop.

Sitting up on the ground, you held your hands out in front of you and rested them on top of your knees. With all the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins, your arms shook and your fingers kept twitching.

There was a stinging pain that was coming from your hands, and when you turned them over, you immediately saw red start to drip down from the clearly torn skin. You winced as you carefully flicked some of the tiny rocks away from the scarred tissue.

While you were occupied with cleaning your wounds, you heard another bike fall to the ground next to you, and saw Y/N slide over to where you were on the ground. She saw the blood that was streaming down from your hands, and then quickly patted down the rest of your body to check for any other wounds. A look of worry covered her face as she checked you and asked if you were hurt anywhere else. When she realized that the cuts in the palm of your hands were the only injury, she right away took them in hers; trying her best to clean the dirt and rocks that covered the palms of your hands.

Y/N’s gripped tightened around your wrist as you tried to pull your hands away. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s fine, Y/N. Just a couple scratches,” you tried reassuring her, but the concerned look on her face didn’t go away.

It took a few minutes to get the dirt and rocks out. She did everything from blowing to pouring water over the wound. “Okay that hurts,” you said as the stream of water hit your palms. There wasn’t much blood, but still you could see a tinge of red as it continued to make its way down the rest of your arm.

Once Y/N was sure you were okay and that the wound was as clean as it could be, you two sat there for a while. The both of you sat there on the gravel road, with Y/N’s bike lying on the ground in front of you; yours just a couple meters out to the left of you. From where you sat, you looked at and examined your bike. What the hell got in the way?

Your thoughts were immediately interrupted when you heard what sounded like muffled laughter coming from Y/N. Looking over, you watched her shoulders bounce up and down. “Why are you laughing?” you asked.

She turned around, and you swear you meant to listen to her, but the sun was hitting her face at all the right angles, and suddenly you couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was beautiful, sure. And yes, it was her features that initially drew you to her, but what she was most beautiful for, was the way she always made sure that everyone around her was looked after before she thought about herself. She was beautiful for the way she encouraged Lisa’s jokes and indulged her in her sometimes not-so-comedic antics. Beautiful for belting out the lyrics to the songs that were playing in the dorm with Rosé, and even beautiful when her eyebrows were permanently furrowed in an intense battle of Mario Kart with Jisoo.So, although it wasn’t wrong to call her that for something as vain such as her looks; it was wrong to say that that was the onlything that made her beautiful. Her character, her personality… the way she did things, was what made her most beautiful to you. But in this light, you couldn’t help but appreciate the way she looked.

Snapping out of the trance you were in; you were luckily able to catch her at the last bit. “You were so close to me, and then all of sudden… you weren’t. How did you manage to land so far away from your bike?”

Giving her an annoyed look and exaggerating what had happened you said, “your girlfriend is catapulted off of her bike, going at least a billion kilometers an hour… landing on the rough gravel road. Only to start bleeding out. I could have died, and you have the audacity to laugh at me?”

“Baby I love you… but don’t you think you’re being just a tad bit dramatic?” she asked.

What did you just say? When you didn’t answer her question, she turned to look at you totally unphased by what she had just said. “You love me?”

“Did I say that?” Y/N asked as she turned to look at something on the ground.

Oh hell no. You’re going to look at me when you answer me. It took some time, but eventually you were able to get up from off the ground. Not having the ability to use your hands made everything so much more difficult. Staggering from side to side in an effort to get up on your feet, everything felt sore.

Y/N was still turned away from you, so she didn’t see you coming when you took a seat on top of her legs. In all the times you had done this before, she would protest and try to push you off, but this time she remained motionless looking at the ground. Still no eye contact.

At this very moment, you were so sure that this was your favourite thing in the whole wide world; sitting on Y/N’s lap while she was clearly a nervous mess underneath you. Carefully and with your longest fingers, you put them underneath her chin and guided her head so that she was now looking at you in the eyes. “Y/N…” you trailed off. You were going to make sure she heard everything you said.

“Uh huh?”

“Do. You. Love. Me?” you asked. Enunciating each word slowly.

Again, she tried to look away, but your grip tightened around her chin. Causing you to feel the stinging pain in your palm come back as you tensed the muscles in your hand, but you didn't care.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” you asked.

“Yes. I do love you Jennie Kim.” Her eyes never once left yours as the words left her mouth.

Seven words. Seven words was all it took to have you feeling like you were on top of the world. Everything around you was… better. The sky was bluer, the grass was greener, the sun yellower. The sounds of the birds in the trees around you… clearer. Even the air that you were breathing in felt cleaner. “Sorry… can you say that one more time?” you asked while tilting your ear closer to her mouth.

She knew you had heard her, and so after letting out a sigh, she said, “I. Love. You.”

Without hesitating you said, “I love you too, Y/N.”

I love you so much.

//

[7:20 PM CST. Taipei. Getting ready before leaving to go on stage]

“Like right… here,” you said as you guided your makeup artists’ hand closer toward your inner eye; she held the brush and was about to add a little bit of colour to even out both of your eyes.

Currently, a number of people stood around you. With your makeup artist on one side, your hairstylist behind you, and a seamstress kneeling on the ground fixing the outfit you had on, there really wasn’t much breathing room.

You couldn’t turn around, but by squinting hard enough and looking in the mirror, you read the clock; you had just a half hour before you had to leave for the stage. Today was your last concert of the first leg of the tour. Even more special about tonight was that Y/N was here, and you two had finally worked through your issues. However, that wasn’t to say that you didn’t enjoy every concert you put on, because you did. Y/N being here, just made everything better.

The team around you all stepped back and gave space for you to get in one last look in the mirror; all of you double checking to see if everything was okay. While doing so, you saw Y/N standing there eyeing you in the background. She smiled and started making her way over to you once she realized you were looking at her too.

“Do you mind if I have this?” she asked while toying with the roll of ribbon in her hands. Your stylist that was kneeling on the ground in between you two quickly glanced over to see what she was referring to and said that she could.

What on Earth are you going to do with that? you questioned.

…

Walking down the hallway of the hotel, you said goodnight to each of the girls on the way to your own room. Like always, there was an assigned hotel room order. It went as follows: Lisa, Rosé, Jisoo, yours and then finally Y/N’s.

To you, your members seemed exhausted, and rightfully so. Thus, this time you kept your goodnight greeting relatively short. You, on the other hand, were still wired from the concert. It was rare, but it happened from time to time nonetheless. It probably had to do something with Y/N being back.

With your foot holding the door of your hotel room open, and your grip around the handle of your suitcase, you waited for Y/N to kiss you goodnight before returning to her room. During your discussion at the amusement park a few days ago, you two decided that you would sleep in separate rooms when it came to tour, but if you really needed each other, your doors were always open. However, this time she didn’t ask, or much less give you a warning before pulling you toward her room.

As you were being dragged along, you heard the door you were holding open shut behind you, and the things in your suitcase jumble around. “Y/N, if you’re going to yank my arm out of its socket. Next time give me a warning,” you said quietly.

Before ushering you inside her room, in a serious but quiet voice she said, “stop complaining.”

As soon as the door closed behind you both, Y/N turned the lock on the door and flipped the door stopper up. I guess I’m sleeping in here tonight? You were confused but the thought alone made you smile.

“Leave your suitcase here and sit on the bed.” Was all she said as she kneeled on the ground, digging around for something in her suitcase; every movement of hers was rough.

Stopping to look at what she was doing on the way to the bed, she looked up at the same time and you shot her a questioning look. Very scarily, she said nothing and pointed to the bed, causing your heart rate to instantly pick up. Are you mad at me? What is going on?

If you were being honest, how Y/N’s nature could change so quickly was frightening yet fascinating to you. For the vast majority of the time she was friendly and delightful as could be, but on the off chance, she was capable of being the exact opposite; everything about her was alluring, especially at this very moment.

From your current view on the edge of the bed, you leaned off to the right and watched as she pulled the same roll of white ribbon she had asked your stylist for just a couple of hours ago– as well as a blindfold? You didn’t want to make any assumptions, but the thoughts in your head ran wild. If your heart wasn’t beating fast before, surely it was now. Nervously, you gulped as she stood up and walked toward you.

Your eyes never once left her face. Even when she threw the items on the bed, or when you felt the bed sink a little bit as she moved to rest her arms on the bed beside both of your legs. Her lips looked so inviting that it was hard for you to look at anything else.

She got real close to your face, and while staring at each other's lips, you read hers as she said, “this is only going to work if you listen to me. Don’t question me or my decisions. Can you do that for me?”

Unable to speak you simply nodded, and only then did she continue. Firstly, she put the blindfold on, and then asked for you to put your wrists together and extend them outward toward her. With your sense of sight now gone, everything else was heightened. Touch, smell, hearing… and although she didn’t give you a reason just yet, you were sure that your sense of taste would be heightened too.

Very clearly could you hear the sound of something being unravelled, and quickly you were able to gather that it was the ribbon she had in her hands earlier. Seconds later, you felt the silky-smooth texture of fabric being wrapped and tied around both of your wrists. It wasn’t loose, nor was it too tight.

“Tug on your wrists for me.”

Silently you sat there and did what she asked of you. In your head you debated over whether or not you would defy Y/N on purpose, just to see what would happen, but for now you listened. The moment she was satisfied, she pushed to lie you down on the bed and got on top of you. Underneath her weight, you felt secure.

So this is what it feels like when I straddle you? I could get used to this.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and try to play it off as a cough, but Y/N caught on anyway and asked what was so funny.

“Nothing,” you said.

Roughly, with one of her hands she got a hold of your wrists and moved to pin them down on the sheets right above your head. In both arousal and frustration, you let out a sigh which was cut short when Y/N attached her lips to your neck. She knew you all too well, and went straight for the spot that made you ache in the place where you needed her the most. With her other hand, you could feel her start to unbutton your shirt.

It had been so long at this point that everything felt good, and each time it got to be too much, the grip she had pinning your wrists down had to be increased. “Keep your hands above your head. The moment they come down or touch me, everything stops. Do you understand?” she asked; her voice still stern.

You nodded, but that wouldn’t cut it this time as she asked again. “I understand,” you were able to choke out.

With the help of her warm breath to tell you where she was headed, she stopped at your now exposed chest. Taking her sweet time to run over both of your nipples with her tongue. You sucked in a deep breath, but still, you kept your wrists above your head. Keep them there Jennie. Keep. Them. There.

She travelled further down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your torso. Each one wetter than the last. You were growing impatient and you were positive that Y/N knew it too, because each time she stopped, you could feel her smile against your skin. “Y/N please,” you begged. Unsure if you were allowed to speak at all. She didn’t say I couldn’t right? Fuck. What were the rules?

You heard her ask, “please what?”

Shuddering underneath her as she asked you the question. You hadn’t realized, but she was right back up next to your ear within seconds. “It’s been a long day… I put on a good show. Don’t you think I deserve to be rewarded?”

She gave you a quick kiss and hovered over your lips. “You do baby… but who says I can’t have a little fun?”

“Me.” Your answer was short and rude, but you made sure to give her a nice smile as you said it.

Suddenly you felt Y/N get off, and before you could begin to apologize, you felt her hands pull off the sweatpants and panties you had on. Oh good. You’re not stopping.

The air conditioning in the room was on, so you felt the tiny hairs on your legs rise, as they were exposed to the cold air.

“I’ll let that one go and pretend you never said it.”

Y/N continued on with her painstakingly slow exploration, which only made you feel more annoyed and agitated, but you bit your lip to avoid voicing your opinion. It was too soon to push her buttons, and you couldn’t risk her stopping. Not when you were just getting started.

Every little noise was clear to you. The creaking noises that the bed made, her slow and steady breathing, and even the simple sounds of skin moving against the hotel sheets.

All the while you were taking everything in, you felt Y/N reattach her lips to the soft spot on your neck. At the same time, one of her hands moved down to your already wet core. Before her fingers could dip inside, she teased you by sliding her fingers up and down, letting only the tips of her fingers do the work; gathering your growing arousal. It drove you insane. “Y/N please just fuck me already.”

She didn’t say anything and instead responded by pushing two of her fingers inside you, it was simple, yet just enough to coax a ragged breath from you and have your body arch off the bed. With her fingers moving in and out of you at a steady pace, it didn’t take you long to have you moaning underneath her. “Jennie, we're in a hotel, remember? You have to keep it down.”

Out of breath you said, “then kiss me.”

You could have sworn that Y/N was supposed to be in charge, but everything you asked for, she willingly gave in.

Maybe I should just listen… It’s not so bad.

As her fingers pumped in and out of you, your tongues moved together in a sensual rhythm. Your moans now being muffled by her mouth that was busy over yours.

Her motions were patternless which drove you to the edge even faster. One moment she was going so deep to the point where the palm of her hand stopped her, and at another, she could be paying attention to your clit; rubbing fast paced circles around it.

Eventually it all got to be too much, and when you came, you did everything but bring your wrists down. “Fuck bab–” your words were immediately cut off by her lips once again. Anything from pulling on the restraints, biting onto her lip, clamping your legs together to keep her from pulling away, you rode out your long awaited orgasm.

Once she was sure you weren’t going to yell out anymore, she pulled away but still kept her palm firmly resting against you. Through the pressure, you felt the pulsing sensation of your clit. When her fingers started moving again, you were quickly thrown back in.

“We’re not done yet my love. But before we start again, let’s take this off just so you can watch me clean up,” she whispered into your ear. The sternness in her voice now gone, and replaced by something that was much more lustful and seductive.

She pulled off the blindfold. The room wasn’t at all bright when you first entered. It was only being lit by a single lamp that was in the far corner of the room, but it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust. After blinking a few times, you wanted to take a moment and stare at Y/N, but she was already moving down to your legs.

Her left arm firmly wrapped around your leg, which was most likely to keep you from moving. You couldn’t see it of course, but with her free hand she readily went back to work. Surely it was counterintuitive for her to be pumping in and out of you, hitting all the right spots, all the while she was lapping up your juices and teasing the bud of your clit with her tongue. But you couldn’t care less, it felt good, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the one that would tell her to stop. What she was doing was perfect, and in record time, she once again had you closely approaching the edge.

Naturally, each time she fucked you like this, she learned what you liked the most, and so the minute you both felt and saw her tongue give you that one last lick, it was over for you.

Your second orgasm was more overwhelming than the last, and instinctively you threw your head back against the sheets, arched your back, and clamped your legs around her head. What was different this time around was that your vision blurred around the edges, and with Y/N down near your ankles, you were left to suppress the noises you made.

In the midst of trying to regain some of your senses, you felt a slight panic when you realized that part of your hand was stuffed in your mouth, and your wrists were brought down to your face. Oh shit.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind when she came back up, in fact she was laughing. While hovering over you, she worked to untie you. When your hands were free, you examined the deep red lines that covered the both of your wrists.

I should be able to cover them up with a watch and a few bracelets.

Your thoughts were quickly cut short when Y/N took your hands in hers. She massaged over the lines. Her expression was soft and full of concern, which made you miss the rough attitude she had just a few moments ago.

Quickly and roughly, your hand made its way to the base of Y/N’s neck and you were able to flip the two of you over. Now in the opposite positions, you had all the control. Or at least that’s what you thought until she bent her leg and her soft skin glided against your soaking centre. While hovering over her, you dripped down her leg. The contact right away made you lose focus for a split second. “My god, babe. You’re going to make me cum again.”

“Ride me.” Her voice wasn’t the stern one you found yourself craving, but it turned you on regardless.

Just as you were about to listen to her instructions, suddenly the lamp across the room flickered, capturing your attention. When it stopped flickering, on your way back to looking at Y/N’s face, your eyes landed on her camera that rested on the table beside the bed. Y/N turned to look at what you were staring at, and right away she said, “no.” The seriousness in her voice returned.

“Why not? Wouldn’t it be hot to have this on film?” you asked.

“Well it would, yes– no. Just no. Don’t you like your job? If a tape like that–” “just call it what it is Y/N,” you interrupted.  

Y/N sighed underneath you and said, “I’m saying no to a sextape. A film like that can have a detrimental effect on both of our careers. Now come on, let’s just keep going.”

You gave her a pleading look, and still she remained firm with her decision. “Fine,” you huffed out in frustration, but it was short lived as you gladly went back to riding her thigh.

Rocking back and forth against your own slickness, you let out a moan. One of her hands was on your hip to help guide you, and with her other hand, she had her fingers in your mouth trying to keep you quiet. Though at the moment her fingers weren’t doing such a great job. So, when another loud moan escaped your lips, she sat up and pulled you in for a kiss. This was the only way she could get you to be quiet.

While continuing to ride her you were able to find your rhythm and quickened the pace at which you moved. Right away you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for the loud noises you two were making; surely your neighbours couldn’t hear your rings colliding with the wood and the bed knocking against the wall, right?

As if it weren’t enough, Y/N took one of her hands and shoved a finger in the space between you and her leg, occasionally curling it inside which drove you to the edge faster. “Fuck that feels so good.” But it was only for a few seconds as she pulled it out, “taste yourself,” she said slowly. Her voice dripping in seduction.

As you moved to suck on the finger that was just inside you, you missed as she quickly put it in her mouth. Though, before you could question it, she kissed you and shoved her tongue in your mouth, tasting yourself as she did. With your tongues battling for dominance, you felt her hand snake its way back down your body. Using her thumb, at a fast pace, she rubbed and took full advantage of your already sensitive clit.

“Look at me when you cum,” she said while grabbing the back of your head.

You tried your best to fight it off for a few seconds longer, but you came hard against her thigh. Biting your lip and keeping your eyes focused on hers. If it weren't for her other hand that held the back of your head in place, you surely would have broken the eye contact. The overwhelming high that took over you this time, had your legs shaking and all ten of your fingers clawing down Y/N’s back.

It took a few minutes to get yourself under control, and as you sat there trying to gather yourself, you watched as Y/N sat back against the headboard, fiddling with the ribbon in her hands. You hadn’t noticed up until this point, but there was a word that was repeatedly printed on it, and when you took it from her and looked at it, it was the word Chanel, written in black capitalized letters. “Are you kidding me?” you laughed.

“I had to. You always did look good in Chanel.”

“Did?” you asked.

“Do,” she corrected.

Chapter 24 - HERE

#blackpink imagines #jennie kim #lalisa manoban #jisoo #blackpink rosé #blackpink scenarios

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Worst Game” || YEAR 3 – Ch.17 (HP au)

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Day posted: 9/4/2020

Word count: 3, 186

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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The clouds outside were dark and ominous above their heads. The sky was covered and not a ray of sunshine or smudge of blue sky shone through the large dense storm clouds. The wind howled in their ears and threw cold rain on their face as they walked up the grassy lawn back into the Castle. They had barely been able to hear Hagrid during their class and that really told them just how bad this storm was. The wind had turned his loud booming voice into a quiet squeak, no louder than a kitten’s purr.

Draco and his pack of Slytherins ran past with smug looks. Draco clutched his re-slung arm and snickered. “Ooh! Aah! It really hurts.”

“I can’t believe them,” Ron crossed his arms. “He had taken that stupid thing off MONDAY, and two days later he needs it again because ‘the weather’?”

Heather had been feeling quite guilty about her plan. It had saved her and gotten her back on her team, but it had screwed the Gryffindor’s practice up big time.

Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

Harry had gotten very upset the day Draco had put her plan into action. He’d done it during potions, where he knew he could get away with it. They’re potions were boiling deep in their cauldrons and class was almost over when he’d clutched his arm in pain and fell to the ground, howling about feeling the storm clouds in his bones. Professor Snape sent him to Madam Pomfrey’s and by dinner time the Gryffindor captain was told that the match had been rescheduled to Saturday morning and it was now against Hufflepuffs.

Hermione put a reassuring hand on his arm, “You’ll be fine.”

They walked into the castle and Heather took Harry’s wrist, looking at his watch. “We’ll be late!”

“So what? It’s Lupin,” Ron smiled, “He might even give us points for it.”

Heather shook her head and elbowed Hermione who nodded and they both began running in the direction of the Defense classroom. The bolted up the stairs and just as they reached the door the bells rang throughout the school.

Heather pulled the door open and held it for Hermione. She walked in and gasped. Heather poked her head around the corner and saw Professor Snape sitting at the desk with his arms crossed and staring at them with narrowed eyes.

“Take your seats before I start removing points.”

They ran to their seats near the front and quickly took out their books. Heather had forgotten Professor Snape was supposed to teach Defense today! She turned to the door as Professor Snape began the lecture.

The seconds were dragging on and even Hermione was looking worried now. Harry and Ron were really taking their time.

Finally the classroom door opened and Harry walked in with Ron laughing behind him.

“Sorry we’re late, Professor Lupin. We – ” Harry came to a halt as he spotted Professor Snape at the front of the class.

“Are your ears working, Potter? Did you not hear the bells ring ten minutes ago?” Professor Snape pulled his robes around himself as he crossed his arms and smiled. “Shall we make it ten points from Gryffindor then? Take your seat.”

Ron sat in the nearest chair but Harry didn’t move, instead looked around at everyone and at Heather, who shook her head, begging him not to speak. She jerked her head to his seat but he didn’t budge.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” Harry frowned.

Professor Snape’s smile twisted. “He’s too ill to teach today.” He narrowed his eyes and dropped the smile. “I believe I told you to take your seat?”

Harry still didn’t move. “What’s wrong with him?”

At this point the whole class was looking horrified at Harry, except the Gryffindors who mostly all looked very impressed.

“Nothing life threatening,” he said regretfully. “Let’s see. Five more points from Gryffindor. I’ll make it fifty the next time I have to ask you to sit down, Potter.”

Harry finally took his seat next to Heather. She shook her head at him, but he kept his eyes trained on Professor Snape as he went on.

“Before Potter’s interruption, I was saying Professor Lupin did not seem to record what topics he has already covered and so – ”

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air. “Sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, grindylows, and we’ve just finished – ”

“Quiet,” Professor Snape snapped. “I did not ask nor did I call on you, Miss Granger. I was merely commenting on the lack of organization Professor Lupin appears to have.”

“Professor Lupin is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dean Thomas spoke up.

Insulting Professor Lupin must have struck a nerve among the class because a murmur of agreement with the bold Gryffindor ran throughout the class.

Professor Snape looked more menacing now, glaring down Dean and the rest of the whispering class.  “You are all easily satisfied,” he spoke through his teeth. “First years should be able to deal with grindylows and especially Red Caps.” He paused and picked up the text book, “Today’s lesson shall cover – ” he flipped to the back chapter, “Werewolves.”

Hermione’s arm shot up again. “Sir, we’re supposed to be starting hinkypunks today – ”

“Granger.” Professor Snape’s voice was deadly calm and steady. “I believe the instructor for this class today, is me. Not. You.” He turned to the class, “Page 394. Read along.” He looked around and frowned, “Now! Everyone!”

Heather had already opened her book to the last chapter and stared at Professor Snape as he began his lecture. She’d never seen him so mad, not even after Neville had tripped and knocked over several handfuls of glass jars full of very old potions ingredients.

Professor Snape paced the front of the class. “What is the easiest distinction between a werewolf and the true wolf?”

The class stayed motionless and silent except for Hermione who raised her hand instantly. Heather looked down at her book and read the first lines of the first paragraph and raised her hand as well.

“No one?” Professor Snape tisked and gave his twisted smile again. “I see that Professor Lupin has failed to teach you even the most basic distinction between – ”

Parvati Patil stood up. “We’ve already said we haven’t gotten through werewolves yet. We’ve just finished – ”

“SILENCE,” Professor Snape snarled. “What an unfortunate surprise. Quite disappointing to meet a third-year class so behind they couldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I’ll make sure to inform the Head Master of this and we’ll see what he makes of it…”

Hermione finally took her arm down. “Please, sir. The werewolf differs from a true wolf in the snout, the claws, the – ”

“Miss Granger, this is the – second – time you have interrupted me this class,” his voice was calm and cold again. “Five points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Heather pressed her hands to her face. How many times were the Gryffindors really going to interrupt Professor Snape? And was it bold or stupid to do so while he is clearly fuming with anger? She removed her hands and looked over at Hermione who had gone red in the face and was holding back tears. She felt guilty for being very annoyed but every Slytherin knew not to cross Professor Snape, and after three years of being his students, the Gryffindors should know that too.

“You wanted to know the answer and Hermione gave it! If you don’t want to hear it, why even ask us?” Ron shouted from the back.

Everyone turned to look at Ron who quickly realized he’d gone too far.

Professor Snape advanced on him slowly, savoring each step. He leaned down and gripped the edge of Ron’s desk, bringing his face close to his. “Detention. And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach – any – of my classes, again… You will be – very – sorry indeed.”

The rest of class went by slow. Professor Snape had decided not to read to them and instead prowled around the desks as everyone read and took notes off the book. At one point he took to looking through their essays on past topics criticizing how Professor Lupin graded them too easily, as if daring another student to speak up out of turn.

“This makes no sense . . . Wrong. Wrong. Not even close . . . He gave this nonsense an eight? It’s a two at best . . .”

No one dared speak up after Ron’s outburst. They all bit their tongues and ignored his comments. Heather stared at the stack of papers in his hands and looked for any sign of her own essay, wanting to see what he thought of it. He picked up one with an ink smudge on the top left corner and she knew instantly it was hers.

He scanned the essay and looked at her. “Atrocious.”

She bit her cheek and went very red, glaring down at the words on the textbook. The bell rang and the class all sighed with relief. They started packing, wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible but Professor Snape held them back.

“I want two rolls of parchment, to be handed into me, on the ways wizards identify and kill werewolves. I want them by Monday morning. Any student who does not complete two full rolls will lose their house two points. It appears it is up to me, to get this class back on track.” He sat down and dismissed the everyone. “Weasley. Not you. We must arrange your detention.”

Heather followed Harry out with the rest of the class. The second they reached the stairs the whole class erupted with anger at Professor Snape.

“I can’t believe he said my essay was ‘atrocious’ – ”

“You know Ron was right. I answered what he asked and quite frankly– ”

“He hates Lupin. It’s so obvious! He’s never been like that with any other Defense teacher.” Harry stopped them next to a column. “Is this really all because of Neville’s boggart?”

Heather laughed. “Do you really not think it’s because of all the times YOU Gryffindors interrupted him today? He could barely get a sentence out without – ”

Harry groaned. “Don’t tell me he’s still your favorite teacher after this!”

Heather bit her tongue and crossed her arms. ‘Atrocious’? Really?

Ron came running down the stairs and almost yelled ‘Watch it!’ when he bumped Harry. “Oh. I didn’t see you.” He stepped behind the column and threw down his bag. “I have to scrub the hospital wing bedpans! With no magic! What an – ”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, stopping him from cursing out their teacher.

Ron crossed his arms and glared at her. “Fine! But I still think Black should’ve hid in his office and torn him to pieces. It’d’ve done us all a great favor!”

Heather gasped. “That’s a very morbid thing to say, Ron.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not denying it.”

“Of course we’re denying it,” Heather and Hermione said in unison.

The next morning Heather woke with a groan. She had spent several hours last night outlining her werewolf essay and now her eyes were tired and stinging. She had thought maybe the structure of the information from her essay had made it ‘atrocious’ and thought making sure the ideas flowed well would make him not think it was horrible.

She got up out of bed, dressed, and headed down to breakfast where Harry and Wood were talking – or more like Wood was talking at Harry who looked just as exhausted as Heather felt. She walked over and took a seat next to Harry.

Wood gave her a look. “I think maybe this morning you should go sit with your house… Since I’m talking strategy with Harry and soon the rest of the team.”

Heather frowned. She had always been accepted at the Gryffindor table, especially since she sat next to Harry always. “But you’re not playing us.”

“No. We’re not.”

Harry turned to her with a sheepish look. “M-maybe just this once? I mean the rest of the team will get here soon anyways.”

Heather huffed and stood up, crossing her arms. “Fine.”

She didn’t really have a right to be so upset. She was the one to blame for ruining their match, but no one knew that besides her own team. It was the second secret she was keeping from Harry but she still didn’t think it was very fair to be kicked from her usual breakfast spot.

She walked over to the Slytherin table and pulled a plate of toast over, taking several slicing and angrily smeared butter on them. She bit down and waited for more people to join the table. After several bites, most of the school had finally made it down and were excitedly eating breakfast in preparation for the match.

The Slytherin Prefects had decided to borrow Hufflepuff scarves and hats and were handing them out. Heather pushed hers aside and got dirty looks from a few fifth years and the Head Boy. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams left and minutes later everyone else was filing out and heading down to the Quidditch pitch.

She found Ron and Hermione fast and joined them as they headed up the stands. They took their seats opposite the Slytherins and waited for the teams to come out of the changing rooms.

Hermione was looking up at the sky, holding her hair down from blowing in her face. “These are safe playing conditions… right?”

Heather and Ron looked up at the dark grey clouds that seemed to be gathering right over the school grounds. They looked so heavy they could fall to the ground.

“I’ve seen games played through giant hail storms,” Ron shouted over the wind. “This is nothing!”

Heather pulled hair from her mouth and decided to braid it down. She leaned over the railing and saw Madam Hooch walking out of the Quidditch ball closet with a chest under her arm and her broom in hand. Both teams came out and the school cheered as they took their positions.

The rain had started to really pour and Heather found it hard to see anything going on. She squinted and saw they were mounting their brooms and they the game was in play, but she never heard Madam Hooch’s whistle blow. The wind was muffling everything, and even Lee Jordan’s loud comments came back as a whisper.

All that she could hear was the cheering and screaming when Gryffindor scored points. Heather pulled her robes on tighter and pulled her hood up as she searched the skies for any signs of Harry, but everyone just looked like red and yellow blurs. She was glad she wasn’t playing, though yesterday wouldn’t have been as bad as it was now. There was another roar of cheers and she heard vague words about Gryffindor scoring points form Lee.

The sky was getting darker and the wind felt like slashes on her cheeks. There was a loud crack of thunder and suddenly a flash of lightning struck a nearby tree. Madam Hooch was now holding her wand to her neck and blew hard on the whistle, cutting through the sound of the rushing wind. The teams touched down onto the muddy field.

“Have they postponed the match?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Ron shook his head. “I think it’s a time out.”

“How can you tell? I can barely see anything from here?” Heather squinted hard.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Hermione ran down the stairs and seconds later she was running across the field to Harry.

“What is she doing?” Ron shook his head.

Hermione was running back and the whistle blew again. She ran up the stairs and shook her hair as she stood next to them. “Hopefully now he’ll see better with his glasses. I used a simple spell on them. He should be able to see the snitch now.”

“And he’ll end the game already.” Heather was already soaked to her skin and wanted desperately to crawl in bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

She looked up again, trying to spot Harry among the red streaks, when lightning struck again and illuminated the dark sky and a terrifying image appeared in the clouds. A black silhouette of a shaggy dog. She gasped and looked around, but no one else seemed to have been paying much attention to the actual sky, just the red streaked players.

Had she just seen the grim? She looked around again as the crowd quieted down and even the wind seemed to silence. The cold cutting rain suddenly seemed warm compared to the air that seemed to be freezing on the spot. She looked behind and saw waves of black floating cloaks making their way over the stands.

Her numb body was alive again with fear and guilt and sadness. All her worries and anxieties seemed to pound in her head as the cloaked figures floated around, moving their heads in search of something. She felt tears freezing on her cheeks and sobbed, remembering all the times Uncle Vernon had screamed and yelled at her, and all the times Dudley had hurt her.

She thought of Harry and tore her eyes away from the dementors. There were dots of red and yellow looking down at them from the sky, and a streak of red falling through the icy mist. From the corner of her eyes she saw a white light growing so bright it seemed to illuminate the whole stadium. She closed her eyes from the blinding light and suddenly felt all the horrible feelings seep away.

She gasped for breath and opened her eyes, looking around at streaks of black dashing away in a fury. She turned back to the field and saw Madam Hooch, Professor Dumbledore, and all the players huddled around the center.

Heather remembered the grim she had seen in the sky moments before the dementors showed. “Harry!” She ran down the stairs and bolted across the muddy field. Her feet almost stuck into the ground as she ran into the circle of people huddled around a body.

Hermione gasped behind her as they came into view of Harry, knocked out and wedged into the ground.

Professor McGonagall came through. “Albus, is he alright?”

Professor Dumbledore nodded. “Quite so. I slowed his fall. Why don’t we take him to Madam Pomfrey so she has someone to fuss over for a few days.”

Heather watched them levitate Harry and carry him out of the field. Ron, Hermione, and Heather followed close behind. She understood the words Professor Dumbledore had said, but Harry’s motionless body looked so pale and cold under the smudges of mud.

She blinked and realized it wasn’t the rain that was making it so hard to see, it was her tears. She wiped them away and sobbed, feeling Hermione grab hold of her hand and Ron put an arm over her shoulder as they walked up to the castle.

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#harry potter #heather potter #pro snape #severus snape x oc #severus x oc #snape x oc #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

[mylittlehime]

Fanfic: King Reinhardt the Lion Hearted

Written for @sighardtweek, inspired by art by @enot-friedrich, The Junkenstein’s Revenge AU and the Reinhardt of panzersoldat.dreamwidth.org

King Reinhardt the Lion Hearted

Reinhardt had only been the king of Adlersbrunn for a few weeks, but the level of the previous ruler’s cruelty and depravity seemed to be endlessly revealing itself.  His guard had called him to one of the lower dungeons…said there was something he needed to see.  Nothing could have prepared him for what had been found.  In a dark, cold cell, laying on the ground was a naked figure with pale blue skin His grandmother had told him stories about them…the fae…the magical spirits of nature that lived in the mountains surrounding Adlersbrunn.  Reinhardt had never seen one before…but he knew immediately that this was the nature of the creature before him.  It fit the description completely….though this one was indeed a poor specimen.

Its skin was ashen from being kept out of the light for so long.  Its hair was long, filthy and filled with mats and tangles.  Its wrists and ankles were bound in rough iron that burned the flesh it touched.  Nails on fingers and toes were longer than they should be from lack of use.  It should have horns, according to his grandmother, but from where Reinhardt could see, there were none.  

The king turned to his guard.

“Fetch me a blanket and the keys to its restraints.”

The guard paused.

“Sir?  I don’t think that’s wise.”

Reinhardt asked again for the blanket and restraints, calm still, but with an edge in his voice that let the other man know he would not ask again.

“But…but sir….if we let it go….it could kill us all…freeze our families to death and not have a second thought about it!”

The king looked over the creature on the floor and remembered the words of his grandmother.  These fae were harsh, unforgiving creatures.  He weighed the warnings of the past and present before nodding, his choice made.

“I will be responsible…and only me.  I will take responsibility for this creature and its actions…I just need a blanket and the keys to its restraints.”

A wrong had to be righted.  Justice must prevail and it must prevail for all or he was a hypocrite.

When the guard returned, Reinhardt gently wrapped the creature in the blanket.  Its skin was icy cold, but it had never been about warmth.  It had been about modesty.  Fae were vain in those old stories, but also modest.  They had no qualms with showing themselves to those they wanted to see them…but to remove the choice was to be indecent…and this pitiful wretch had clearly had enough indecent things done to it.

The guard returned with the requested items and gave them to the lord of the castle.  Using the guard’s lantern, Reinhardt was able to locate the locks for the fae’s restraints.  Unfortunately, since it had been held so long, the iron of its manacles had burned into its flesh.  Removing them would be painful, but it had to be done.

The king gently laid the blanket over the restrained creature and gently patted its side as he leaned in to whisper to it.

“I’m sorry to have to hurt you more…but I need to get these things off of you.  I will set you free, I swear, but first I must remove your bindings.”

Reinhardt worked at the feet first.  The manacles creaked from age when he got it loose before they fell open.  The fae twitched briefly, giving a quiet hiss but offered the king  no resistance.  When he moved onto the hands, though, the fae faintly trembled.  Reinhardt’s laid a reassuring hand on its shoulder.

“We are almost done, my friend. Thank you for trusting me.”

It was more likely that the creature did not have the ability to resist and that being bound in iron had drained its power so that anything other than existing was impossible.  Reinhardt paid it no mind and focused on the task at hand.  The wrist cuffs were at last removed and the fae gave a soft whimper, but no sooner had the bindings hit the floor, then its clawed hands flexed and it opened its eyes.  They glowed blue in the darkness, catlike pupils growing round as they drank in the sight of the man who had removed its bindings.

The king immediately bowed his head.

“I am sorry this injustice has been done to you.  One of your kind should never be so disrespected.  I will do all in my power to make amends and make sure it never happens again.  I beg that you do not take this out on the families here.  They have nothing to do with your captor. If you must have revenge, you may kill me and I will not stop you.”

The creature regarded him, eyes moving up and down, side to side looking him over before a clawed hand reached for his and held it.  The fae said nothing, bit its large cold fingers lightly squeezed the king’s hand.  Reinhardt raised his head.

“You are kind and merciful.  Let us take you out of here.” With that, he scooped the elemental fat up and made sure its blanket was snugly wrapped around it and began to ascend the stairs up out of the dungeon.   There was much to be done.

#sighardt #sighardtweek #sigma #reinhardt #reinhardt wilhelm #siebren de kuiper #sighardtweek2019

[welllpthisishappening]

All was Golden in the Sky (1/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

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Rating: Mature Tag List: @kmomof4 ; @shireness-says ; @profdanglaisstuff ; @captainsjedi ; @ultraluckycatnd ; @thejollyroger-writer ; @winterbaby89 ; @melsbels ; @socmono (If you’d like to be tagged or not tagged or just want to talk about Little Debbie snacks, let me know!)

AN: Ah, hello internet! I am back with my second @cssns story and this one got long. Like, twenty chapters longer than I originally planned long. I am so, so so excited to share this with you guys. (It may be my favorite thing I’ve written since Blue Line, straight up) There’s a lot of things going on in this story, but I can guarantee some ups and downs and magic and Freddie Mercury and kisses and it’s not the story I planned on writing in March. A very loud and enthusiastic shout out to @resident-of-storybrooke for her art, @distant-rose for reading 250,000 words and making even more art and @bmbbcs4evr for being a never-ending source of stressed-writing support. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

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The cat won’t stop staring at her. 

Emma glances over her shoulder, steps slowing to a crawl and, yup, there it is. The goddamn cat. Staring at her. Still. 

She sighs, rolling her whole head and nearly dropping the small pile of things clutched in her arms. The cat blinks. 

Honestly. 

It’s absurd. 

“What is your deal?” she snaps, well aware that she won’t get a response. Cats are notoriously picky about who they talk to. She assumes it has something to do with their collective frustration over the world’s perception of black cats. 

And, maybe, like ancient Egypt. 

“Honestly,” Emma continues. She can’t wave her hands like she wants to, laden down as she is with several plastic containers and a half gallon of milk and, on second thought, maybe that’s why the cat is following her. 

It’s not, but it’s nice to pretend. 

Because animals always know. Mary Margaret has several working theories about that, but she claims she still has to conduct more interviews and if Mary Margaret were there, Emma is certain, she’d be able to get the cat to leave her alone. 

As it is, Mary Margaret is several thousand miles away trying to find a solution to the problem that has led Emma to this store with its copious amount of Little Debbie snacks in the middle of the night. She can’t sleep. Her brain is too wired and her nerves are drifting dangerously close to fried and she’s got no idea what to do next. 

So, the reasonable thing, naturally, is to buy as many Zebra Cakes as she possibly can. 

“C’mon,” Emma mumbles, kicking her foot out because the cat is now sitting in the middle of the aisle, staring at her with the kind of authority that makes her believe that maybe it’s the cat who actually owns the store. “You’ve got to move. Or I’m just going to teleport out of here and then Ruby will absolutely kill me.”

The cat blinks again. 

Emma groans, gritting her teeth and it’s an empty threat. She knows it. The cat knows it. The guy behind the counter probably knows it. 

She must reek with it, a distinct lack of anything that’s the crux of her problem and the problem in Storybrooke and she’s got to figure something out. That’s why she and Ruby came to New York, after all. 

The seeress had been very specific about that. 

Emma wasn’t all that inclined to believe in prophecy, even after growing up in a town like Storybrooke with a werewolf for a neighbor and a best friend who could very easily commune with the cat still blocking her exit, but it was difficult to ignore when said prophecy included her.

Explicitly. 

A Savior of old, 

With future foretold, 

A key and a spark,

The future of magic and light in the dark, 

A Swan and a Knight, 

Preparing to fight. 

Emma hates that it rhymed. She’s not surprised it rhymed. Magic, she’s come to learn, has a habit of being equal parts wonderful and the single most frustrating thing in the entire world. 

She assumes it’s some kind of balance – to the force or the state of the entire universe or whatever, but it’s also kind of annoying, particularly when magic, it seems, is disappearing. It started out slow, certain spells harder to cast than others and potions that brewed just shy of perfect. But then Mary Margaret couldn’t talk to the bird she’d been having daily conversations with every morning for the last several years.  

And David hadn’t been able to blink from one side of the town to the other when Emma called him about a break-in at the tackle shop near the docks. 

Elsa’s ice magic was now more like...slush magic and Ruby’s most recent transformation hadn’t accounted to much more than her needing to buy two tubs of wax and an extra bag of razors. 

It happened to everyone. 

Even Emma. 

And it’s kind of messing with her head. And sleeping patterns. Because she’s sleeping in a new bed in an apartment she can’t quite breathe in, several thousand miles away from the only home she’s ever known, desperately trying to find some sort of spark to make magic right again. 

And it hadn’t entirely been her choice. 

The seeress hadn’t been specific on the location of that aforementioned spark, but Emma hadn’t had much time to consider it when the first wave of magic crested over the Storybrooke town line. The suddenness of it all made Emma’s stomach fly into her throat, an attack and a push of power and the man standing there, with smoke swirling at his feet didn’t walk evenly into town. There was a slight limp to his steps, hands resting on a cane that was far too ornate, but the curl of his lips sent a chill down Emma’s spine. He was looking for her. 

“I want the Savior,” he’d said, a confidence to his voice that made it clear he was quite used to getting his way. “Now.”

It hadn’t really played out that way. 

It had been a complete and goddamn disaster, honestly. 

There’d been flashes of light and several different explosions, the arrows from Granny’s crossbow whirring past Emma and she’d gasped as soon as Ruby’s fingers curled around her wrist. That had been disappointing. 

“C’mon,” she growled, tugging and yanking and Mary Margaret nodded encouragingly as soon as she realized what was going on. 

“You’ve got to go, Emma. We’re not going to be able to protect you here.”

Emma had tried to argue. She’d yelled and cursed and there had been more than a few tears on her cheeks, but she’d also known Mary Margaret was right and who was she to argue with prophecy? The Savior, apparently. 

“Oh, Savior! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Shit, who does this guy think he is?” Ruby grumbled, a flash of a smile that felt distinctly out of place when the building behind them seemed dangerously close to collapsing. “We’ve got to go, Em. Now.”

Emma nodded dumbly, racking her brain for a place and somewhere safe and she’d never been anywhere, hadn’t left the confines of Storybrooke since she’d entered the confines of Storybrooke and--

Something slammed into David’s chest, a burst of power and flash of darkness and Emma gasped again. Mary Margaret whimpered. 

“Now, Em,” Ruby repeated, squeezing her hand and Emma blinked. 

They’d landed in the middle of New York City. On the corner of Bowery and Broome Street. Ruby had made a joke about witches. 

And now, a week later, Emma hasn’t heard a single word out of Storybrooke, no update on David or the state of Mary Margaret’s tear ducts and she’s got absolutely, positively no idea how to save magic. 

She refuses to consider the idea that the empty apartment in the building they just happened to land in front of is some kind of sign. 

“Are you going to buy those?”

Emma jumps at the voice, only a little surprised that it isn’t coming from the cat. Who has not moved an inch. She exhales, lungs aching with the force of it, and her tongue flashes between her lips when she realizes her mouth has been hanging open. 

A Zebra Cake falls on the ground. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma stammers, nodding for emphasis and it’s an absolutely absurd look. “Of course, I um...sorry.”

The bodega owner hums, clearly unimpressed with her at whatever time it might be. Some point when people don’t normally buy Zebra Cakes, she’s sure. 

He doesn’t scan them, it’s a bodega, but he does give her a quizzical look when he realizes just how many she’s buying and Emma chews on her lip. She’s still having a difficult time breathing. 

“$15.72.” “What?” Emma balks. “Honestly?” He hums again, a sound that’s starting to grate on Emma’s ears. “Cash only.” “Oh my God.” She huffs, a clack of teeth and she’s seen cash before, but she doesn’t often has to use it and Storybrooke had always been bigger on bartering. It’s easy to pay for things when you can offer someone a potion in return. 

It takes her a few moments to unfold the bills crumpled in her palm, the owner eyeing her cautiously. “Alright, alright,” Emma mumbles, mostly to herself as she tries to add up coins. “Is that right?”

He blinks. 

It looks suspiciously similar to the cat. 

“Yuh huh.” “Ok.” Emma nods towards the bag he hasn’t given her yet. “Can have that, then?”

“Are you drunk?” Her laugh is definitely not the correct response, but she can’t remember the last time she’s actually gotten some rest and her pulse seems to be running at a constant state of overwhelmed and Emma hasn’t been able to do any magic since she teleported them. 

She hasn’t told Ruby that. 

It’s freaking her out. 

“Strange as it may seem, I am totally sober,” Emma promises, leaning over the counter to grab her bag. “You may want to restock the Zebra Cakes. Just like...FYI.”

She grins, nodding once and it’s probably wrong to take some perverse joy out of his stunned expression, but his cat was a complete asshole and Emma’s going to get her victories where she can. 

She walks the almost-familiar few feet back to the apartment door, glancing up at a starless sky. It doesn’t feel right. There’s so much light in this city, a flash and a burst that makes it feel like the middle of the afternoon even at two in the morning, and none of it is real. It’s processed and fake and it makes noise, a neon hum that seems to time up with the sounds of traffic and the patter of incessant footsteps on the sidewalk outside her window and Emma knows she won’t be able to sleep. 

Even if she eats twenty-six Zebra Cakes. 

She definitely bought at least twenty-six Zebra Cakes. 

The building is quiet once she gets inside, a silence that Emma’s mind clings to, desperate for a few moments of reprieve, and she has to shift her hold on the bag to pull her keys out of her back pocket. 

She doesn’t notice him at first. 

At first she thinks it’s, simply, a shadow or a byproduct of the bone-searing exhaustion she can feel in every inch of her, but then she sees it and her head snaps to the right, mouth going dry because it’s really not much more than a shadow and a shift and the rush of something that moves from the top of her head to the tips of her toes is as surprising as it is welcome. 

Magic. 

Her magic. 

In surround sound. 

Emma drops the bag. God, she hopes she didn’t crush any of her Zebra Cakes. 

She takes a deep breath and a step forward – not quite confident, but, at least, a little determined and the shadow is a man and the man is grumbling some rather pointed curses under his breath, punching what, at first glance, appears to be a balled-up leather jacket. 

“God damn, fucking asshole, shit romantic…”

Emma’s eyebrows fly into her hair, the magic in her veins turning from a boil to a simmer and she doesn’t mean to laugh. Again. Honestly. But her body doesn’t care and her emotions don’t care and the man jerks his head as soon as his brain processes the noises she’s making. 

“Did I wake you up?”

Emma shakes her head. “No.” “You’re just...awake? Now?” “I mean…” She waves her suddenly-free hand in the space in front of her, and the jacket falls to the ground when he moves his head away from the wall. “I’d think that was kind of obvious, right? Are you awake?” “What kind of question is that?” “You asked me first!” “But that was me being concerned. Kind, even.” Emma’s next head shake turns incredulous. “You’re a crazy person,” she accuses, another hand movement. She has to keep moving. The magic at the end of her fingers feels like it’s crackling. She’s seriously going to eat all of her Zebra Cakes. “And, honestly, kind of a dick. Totally missed the mark on kind.”

The guy heaves a dramatic sigh, glancing up at her from underneath impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes are blue. Emma swallows. “I’m going to kill Scarlet,” he says, like that makes any sense and she needs to move. 

She needs to get in her apartment with her copious amount of overpriced and mass-produced baked goods and she needs to figure out what the hell is happening with her magic. 

And what it means for everyone else’s magic. 

And the man who invaded Storybrooke. 

“Well,” Emma says, “that’s, uh...that’s your prerogative, I guess. Just--” She’s going to leave. She wants to leave. She’s got to leave. But something in the back of her mind is screaming, begging, her not to and her magic shifts again, a burst of heat and rush of feeling and the man’s eyes widen. 

Like he notices. 

Like that’s possible. 

“Am I supposed to know who Scarlet is?”

He scoffs, but it’s almost a laugh and it might be the nicest sound Emma’s heard in...well, a week. “I’d be surprised if you did,” he mutters. “Unless you’re some kind of psychic.” “I can’t say I am.” Several other things, but not a psychic. The man grins. 

“Well, then I’m not surprised you think I’m a dick. I just...Scarlet is my roommate, currently doing several things behind that door that I can’t even begin to process because he’s obviously got no concern for my emotional well being.” “Which leaves you…” “Stuck in this hallway because the bastard has decided he needs to...I don’t know, take over the entire apartment. And, unfortunately, annoying you.” The grin turns into a smirk, hair falling across his forehead in a way that probably shouldn’t make Emma want to run her fingers through it. She rolls her eyes. “You’re very loud.” “That’s because it’s an impossibly uncomfortable wall.”

“You’re just going to sleep out here then?” Emma asks, and he shrugs. “That can’t be very safe.” “Are you suggesting this isn’t a safe building?” “I haven’t really been here that long.” He nods, mouth twisted in thought. “I’ve noticed that.”

“Have you just?” The man’s lips part with a soft pop, eyes widening to a size that’s even more comical because Emma is starting to have a difficult time staying upright. Her magic is thrumming in her ears. “Not in...you know, a stalker way,” he says, letting his head fall against the wall and Emma does her best to bite back her smile. “Just in a...way that we don’t normally get a lot of new tenants and it’s, well, it’s rent controlled so not many people are ever moving out and…”

“You always so articulate?” “I’m going to blame Scarlet again, honestly.” Emma laughs. It’s weird. It’s not weird. “Understandable,” she says, taking a step forward. “Is it strange that I know your roommate’s name and his life story and I’m still referring to you as some guy in my head?” “Some guy is not the worst thing I’ve been called.”

“Color me intrigued. And that’s not an answer.” He stares at her for a moment – and Emma gets the distinct feeling she’s been appraised. Or taken inventory of. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, particularly when she feels her magic settle at the base of her spine, a soft pulse that feels like a metronome for her heart and, possibly, her soul and she absolutely, positively imagines the way he looks at her. 

She has to. 

Because he looks at her like he knows her or could know her or has known her and the tenses don’t make sense and the magic doesn’t make sense, but she’s still not running away and her right knee cracks when she crouches down. 

“A name,” Emma says, and she doesn’t imagine that. He beams at her. Like the sun or something. She’s so goddamn tired. 

“Killian Jones.”

Her magic soars. Her whole body feels like it’s on pins and needles, a sudden lightness that doesn’t match up to the burst of confidence blooming in her chest, pressing on the inside of her ribs and pinching her lungs and Emma licks her lips again. 

His eyes flash towards the movement. 

“This is the part where you follow up with your own name, love.”

“Wow, just jumping into endearments and flirting, huh?” 

“I’ve been inspired by the actions of my roommate.” “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not.” “Not,” Killian promises. “He just got engaged, so…”

“Oh, that’s nice actually.”

“And not your name.” Emma considers her options. She’s not sure she has many, honestly, and it’s not as terrifying a prospect as it probably should be. It feels unnaturally natural, a strange contradiction that makes as much sense as anything that’s ever happened to her and she hadn’t noticed how dark it is in that hallway before. 

The light above her keeps flickering on and off, bits of darkness creeping into the edge of her vision, and Killian is still smiling at her. 

Ruby is going to kill her. 

“Swan,” she says, the complete certainty that she’s done this before echoing in the back of her mind. “My name’s Emma Swan.”

She thrusts her hand out, fingers fluttering in the air around them. It feels heavier all the sudden, like the world is holding its breath, but that may just be Emma and Killian’s gaze darts from her hand, up her arm and back towards her lips before it lands directly on her face, or possibly, in the center of her very being and his skin is warm when it brushes against hers. 

He moves his thumb across the back of her palm. 

“It’s a pleasure,” he murmurs, voice shifting slightly so it sounds like him and...not. Emma has no idea what to do with that, the déjà vu bouncing around her skull, but she doesn’t pull her hand away either and she’s got no idea how long they stay there. 

“My leg is starting to cramp,” she says eventually, and Killian’s answering laugh will very likely be imprinted on every corner of her brain for the rest of her life. 

He stands up, an awkward bend of limbs when neither of them seem particularly inclined to actually let go of the other. “C’mon, it’s uh...you were going inside at some point, probably.” “Nothing gets past you, huh?” “Perceptive, that’s why.”

Emma nods, letting him lead her back towards her front door and the bag she’d almost forgotten about. Her magic hasn’t stopped doing whatever yet, but she’s drifting somewhere close to calm and that same sense of normal and her keys are still hanging in the lock. 

“And look who was questioning the safety of the building before,” Killian says. “What---what were you doing up, Swan?”

Her eyes widen at the slightly different endearment, but it doesn’t feel wrong either and she really needs to sleep. “Oh, uh...just insomnia,” she answers evasively, a blatant lie that sounds even worse when directed at Killian. His lips twitch. She’s staring at his lips.

“Yuh huh. And that’s solved, by--” He ducks down, grabbing the bag before Emma can stop him. “The world’s largest horde of shitty baked goods.” “Ok, there’s no need to be rude about it. And my options were kind of limited, plus there was an asshole cat and--” “--Oh, I hate that cat.”

“Wait, what?” “The cat downstairs?” Killian ventures, Emma nodding like a crazy person. A crazy witch. Destined to save magic. Not to flirt with strangers in the hallway. “Yeah, that cat’s a total dick. Constantly patrolling the aisles down there like he’s serving Bastet and not some slightly skeezy bodega owner.” “I’m going to say you’ve lost me.” “Bastet. Egyptian goddess. Protected the pharaohs apparently.” “Apparently?” Killian shrugs. “As far as I’m aware the pharaohs still had a tendency to die. Some of them rather horribly, so...you know, I don’t know what she was protecting, really.” “You’re the most judgmental person I’ve ever met.” “Now you know why some guy wasn’t the most offensive thing I’ve ever been called.”

She’s charmed. Impossibly so. And she’s fairly certain Killian knows it too. He leans forward, crowding into her space and that one strand of hair hanging above his left eyebrow may be Emma’s personal undoing. “The cat hates me too, love,” he mutters. “I wouldn’t take it too personally. But that’s also not an explanation as to why you’re trying to rot your teeth out.”

“I like Zebra Cakes.” “And cavities?” “You’re very concerned with my well-being aren’t you?” Emma asks, and she knows it comes out like the accusation she was trying to avoid. Killian tenses. “I just…” she continues, softer and a little more cautious and she needs her magic to relax. It’s difficult to concentrate when she can see the muscles in his throat moving. “Well, I wasn’t lying about the insomnia. Honestly. And you’re right. We just moved in and--” “--Not used to New York, huh?” “Are you?” “I’ve been here for awhile.” It’s an evasive answer – half a fact and a hint of walls, but Emma found him trying to sleep in the hallway, so she figures it’s the best she’s going to get and the next few words out of her mouth feel like they fall straight from her heart. 

“You want to come inside?” Killian blinks. Twice. Three times. And tilts his head. She’s going to cut his hair in the middle of the night. It is the middle of the night. “What?”

“Inside,” Emma says again, impressive diction when her lower lip is twisted between her teeth. “I...well, you’re not a secret serial killer, right?” “I’m not.” She’s sure he doesn’t mean for those two words to sound like the single most important two words any human being has uttered to someone who is not quite human, but Emma’s mind doesn’t care and her magic cares even less and one of them probably rocks forward first. Their shoes are touching. 

Ruby is going to kill her. 

Killian swallows again. 

“I wouldn’t…” he starts, another guarantee that doesn’t quite match up to the situation. Emma’s déjà vu makes her knees wobble. “I’d appreciate it, Swan. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. That’s...well, the wall looked pretty uncomfortable and I’d imagine you’d like to be as far away from your own door as possible. You know...if they start getting really creative over there.” Her rather pitiful attempt at humor hits its mark – another victory Emma is going to cling to for, at least, the next twenty-four hours – and Killian’s hand ghosts over her side when he leans forward again. “Oh God, don’t paint pictures like that,” he grumbles. “I don’t know if they’re that creative. And they’ve got to sleep at some point.” “Do they though?” “You are a God awful hostess.”

She swats at his chest – familiar and unacceptable for someone she met in the middle of the hallway not even twenty minutes before, but Killian doesn’t miss a beat. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugging her hand up and his eyes do something that is...magic. Maybe. It makes Emma’s breath catch and her heart grow and her keys are still hanging from the lock. 

“I’m going to retract my offer,” she says, another empty threat they’re both almost too aware of. 

“Do you actually like Zebra Cakes?” “They didn’t have any Swiss Rolls.”

He chuckles, nodding like it’s the most important fact he’s ever learned and leans around Emma to twist the key. The lock clicks, the door swinging open and a thin line of man-made light stretches across the hardwood floor. 

They don’t have a couch. 

They’re hiding from evil. 

Ruby is going to kill Emma. 

“You know there’s an Ikea in Brooklyn now,” Killian quips, still half a step behind Emma like he’s waiting for another invitation. She rolls her eyes. And the door sounds impossibly loud when it closes, as if they’ve crossed a line they can’t retreat from. 

She’s melodramatic when she’s tired. 

“I have no idea how to get to Brooklyn.” Killian makes a slightly strangled noise, toeing out of his shoes like she’s got rules for her hideout apartment, but he also doesn’t know she’s hiding out and Emma’s head is spinning. She flutters her fingers at her side, trying to work out the residual energy she’s certain will cause her to actually turn phosphorescent at some point. 

“Really? No idea at all?” Emma shrugs. “Should I?” “Why did you move to New York, Swan?” They’re not just standing on thin ice anymore. They’ve fallen straight through and gotten hit in the head in the process and are suffering from hypothermia or something else detrimental to their health. 

Emma’s hair feels like it’s crackling. 

“You want a Zebra cake?” she asks instead, an obvious deflection. She needs to stop staring at Killian’s lips. 

“Yeah, ok.”

They make it through half of them before Emma’s stomach starts to hate her for it, empty glasses on either side of them and legs stretched out. There are, at least, a few blankets in the hallway closet and Emma grabs every single one before settling back on the living room floor. Killian doesn’t say anything about that. 

She appreciates it – because she kind of hates the room at the other end of the hall and the never-ending sirens always sound louder when she’s left alone with her own thoughts and, really, she can’t bring herself to walk away from him. Which is kind of a lot to deal with when she’s stuffed with Zebra Cakes. 

And they don’t fall asleep immediately, they talk, quiet words and soft smiles, fluttering eyelashes and Killian’s head propped on his hand. 

She tells him she was a little disappointed the bodega didn’t have chocolate syrup for her milk. He tells her he’s actually pretty thrilled for Scarlet and the still unnamed fiancée. She says she’s in law enforcement. He says he works at the library. She’d maybe like to see Times Square. He’s disgusted by even the idea. 

It’s good. Great, even. It’s impossibly easy and far too simple and Emma only realizes that she’s fallen asleep when her eyes snap open, Ruby practically foaming at the mouth and throwing her shoe across the living room. 

“What the hell is this?” Ruby demands. She jumps up when she doesn’t get an immediate answer, eyes no more than slits on her face and it takes Emma half a breath to realize what, exactly, has her so angry. 

They’d moved at some point. 

She’s still on the floor. Killian is still on the floor. But they’d drifted, hardly any space between them and an arm flung over Emma’s side, legs tangled and blankets tangled and Killian’s breath hitches when he wakes up. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles, drawing a quiet laugh out Emma that only exacerbates Ruby even more. “Sorry, love.”

Ruby growls. Howls, honestly. She throws her whole head back, hands fisted at her side and Emma’s eyes dart around to make sure she’s run out of shoes to attack them with. 

“Rubes,” she starts, “this is not…” Ruby’s glare rivals several other ancient deities. “What?” she hisses. “It’s not what? Who the hell is this jerk?”

“Some guy is honestly starting to get more and more appealing,” Killian mumbles. He pushes up, shaking the hair away from his eyes. He doesn’t actually move that far away from Emma though, hand lingering on the small of her back for a moment, as if he’s trying to ground himself and she hears him take a deep breath. 

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?” Emma groans. “Rubes, I need you to take, like, six-hundred steps back. He lives next door.” “And we’re inviting strangers in now? Em, are you kidding me? What if something had--” “--Nothing was going to happen,” Killian interrupts sharply, and Emma knows she shouldn’t be entirely disappointed by that. 

She needs to save magic. 

She’s got shit to do. That doesn’t include flirting. Or sleeping. Or eating Little Debbie snacks. 

“Yuh huh,” Ruby nods. “Sure. That’s why you’re all curled around each other.” Emma’s face flushes, a rush of heat and magic in her cheeks. “Ok, well, this has been stellar, Rubes, but if you’re done acting like you’re my parent or guardian, that’d be--” “--No, no, this isn’t over. I am...we can’t just let people in here, Em.” “I know!” “Do you?” She winces, knows Ruby is right and she’d acted on an instinct she’d never acknowledge before. Emma can’t shake the feeling that she knows him though, an easy sense of confidence and calm to it all and she sighs as soon as she feels Killian’s hand fall away from her. 

“I should probably get going anyway,” he says, kicking away blankets. “Did I bring my coat in here with me?” Ruby sounds like she’s being strangled. 

Emma cannot roll her eyes hard enough. “I don’t think so,” she mumbles. “It’s probably still in the hallway.” “Right, right,” Killian nods. He doesn’t move away immediately, smiles at her instead as if he’s trying to commit her to memory. Emma bites her lip. “So, uh...I’ll see you--” “--Out,” Ruby cries. She’s found another shoe. “Now!”

Killian winks at Emma. 

Her magic does something at that. 

“Later,” he whispers, and it sounds like another promise. Emma must nod. Her hair moves. And the door slams behind Killian when he leaves, Ruby doing a fairly good job of masquerading as a very impressive marble statue in the middle of a sparsely decorated living room. 

“You breathing over there?” Emma quips. Ruby clicks her teeth. 

“I honestly cannot tell. What the hell were you thinking, Em? Some random guy? Are we not...are we not stressed out enough here?” “What is it that you’re suggesting, exactly?” “He left his coat somewhere?” Emma’s jaw drops, a juvenile response, but that thought hadn’t even entered her mind. “Oh my God,” she stammers, eyes bugging as well. “Are you kidding me? Who do you think I am?” “If I knew that, we wouldn’t have a magical issue on our hands, now would we?” “Oh, that’s a low blow.”

Ruby sighs. “I know it is. Sorry. I just...well, I came out here and there was this dude and it was like--” She trails off, a quick shrug and jerk of her hands and Emma’s eyes narrow. 

“Like what?” “Like we’d done this before. And don’t--there’s no need to tell me how impossible that is, I’m perfectly aware I’m probably just going crazy, but it’s also probably a byproduct of my magic being so fucked up, so...what?” Emma is shaking her head. She hadn’t realized. “That’s what I felt too. Déjà vu and it was...I don’t know, like he was waiting for me or something.”

The words tumble out of her without her explicit permission, something Emma doesn’t altogether appreciate because it’s not altogether true. He’d been hiding from his romantic roommate. And unnamed fiancée. But it happens anyway, an admission and something that feels almost like hope and both Emma and Ruby flinch when one of their phones ring. 

“Holy shit,” Ruby mutters, hand reaching up to clutch the amulet around her neck. The phone stops ringing. Only to start again. 

Emma glances around, trying to find the source of the sound and it’s underneath one of the blankets Killian had been using. That’s probably not a sign either. 

She gasps. She wishes she’d stop doing that. 

“David,” she yells as soon as her thumb swipes across the screen and whatever noise she makes next is ten-thousand times worse than a sigh. “Oh my God.” “What?” Ruby demands. “Oh, yeah, God, you look like garbage.”

David winces, but whether that’s from the insults or the overall state of his face, Emma can’t be sure. He’s bruised and battered and then some, one eye swollen shut and obvious stitches on his top lip, a purple hue to just about every inch of him that has Emma biting back jokes about grapes and purple people eaters. 

She makes jokes when she’s nervous. 

And terrified. 

She’s terrified.

“What took you guys so long to answer?” David asks. “Mary Margaret is freaking out.”

“Ok, that’s not true,” Mary Margaret objects, just out of frame. She’s pacing, a quick blur behind David when she moves and there are few cuts on her arm as well. Emma blinks so she doesn’t start to cry. “I have every confidence that you guys are going to save us all.” “That was not your best work,” Emma says. “And, we’re uh...it’s a work in progress, but we didn’t really have a lot to go on and--”

“--Why did you call?” Ruby cuts in, ignoring Emma’s groan. “Why haven’t you called earlier?”

David can’t glare with only one eye, but he makes an admirable effort. “Are you kidding me?” “We were worried,” Emma whispers. “Like...you really do look like garbage, officer.”

“You should see the other guy.” “That so?” “No,” Mary Margaret answers despondently, coming to a stop and pushing her way into the frame. “The other guy is perfectly fine because the other guy is using up dark magic like it’s never going to disappear.”

“Wait, what? I thought all magic was disappearing.” “It is.”

Emma and Ruby groan in tandem that time, sitting up straighter out of habit because the voice that answer belongs to will probably yell at them if they don’t. 

Regina Mills still looks impeccable, even when defending Storybrooke against some kind of apparent siege, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her pantsuit and Emma’s always wondered where she gets her lipstick. It’s always perfect. 

The mayor of Storybrooke does, however, look a little annoyed at them and that’s, more or less, par for the course. Regina’s magic has always been something, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of power that makes her the obvious choice to lead a town of magical creatures and Emma still can’t wrap her mind around her place in all of this. 

Regina should be the Savior. 

Not her. 

“How much do you two remember about The Dark One?” Regina asks cooly, taking the phone out of David’s hand without asking. Emma’s going to have to buy eye drops. It can’t be good for them to be widening this much. They’re going to dry out. 

Or just fall out of her face. 

“That’s a myth, isn’t it?” Ruby whispers. “The Dark One was just,..a scary story we told each other when we were kids. There’s no overpowering Darkness. That’s like saying there’s--” “--An overpowering Light?”

Emma drops the phone. 

And sighs. So does Regina. She expects that. 

“You honestly think that the guy who attacked Storybrooke demanding Emma is The Dark One?” Ruby asks. “C’mon. Like the Dark One. That’s not a real thing. It can’t be. That’s like saying there are actually pirates and princesses and shit.” “You’re a werewolf, Rubes,” David reasons, and he’s got a point. 

“Ok, hold on a second,” Emma says. “Regina, you’re serious?” A nod. “Ok, so...The Dark One. That’s...we’re sure that’s actually who is attacking Storybrooke?” “Was.”

Emma nearly falls over. She’s sitting down. “Why past tense?” “Because that’s what’s happening, Emma,” Regina explains, sounding like she’s talking to a petulant child. 

“Start at the start.”

David laughs under his breath, hissing slightly when Mary Margaret rests a hand on his shoulder. Emma’s eyes don’t leave Regina’s, a desperation in her gaze that makes her feel as if she’s run several miles and cast the world’s most complex spell and her fingers won’t stop moving. Regina may actually smile. 

It’s a miracle. Of the magical variety. 

“No one knows where magic came from,” Regina says. “Or where we came from, for that matter. We’re all flush with a power that very few could even dream of, let alone understand. But that power isn’t always good. There are kinks in the system, bits of darkness and twists of fate and the Dark One is said to be the one person who can control that.” “That what?” Emma asks. “Be more specific, Regina.” “The opposite of you, Ms. Swan. The seeress was very specific, was she not? The light in the dark? That’s you. You’re the key to figuring out how to maintain magic and that’s why the Dark One wants you. Desperately, in fact. I think he’s losing the grip on his control as well.”

“But Mary Margaret said they’re using magic. How is that possible?” Regina looks disappointed. That’s not surprising either. “They’re not you, Ms. Swan. The Dark One and those following him, they’re not worried about conserving their magic or anything except trying to find you. Because they believe they’ll find you. It won’t matter what they do in the meantime.” “He thinks you can jumpstart magic, Em,” David says softly, as if each letter hurts to speak. It might. He looks like garbage. “All of it. Light, dark, everything.”

“We kind of knew that though, didn’t we?” Ruby asks. She’s standing now, bobbing on the balls of her feet and Emma’s only a little worried she’s going to yank her amulet off. That’s the last thing she needs right now. “I mean..he wasn’t being very secretive about it. He was literally shouting about Emma.”

Mary Margaret makes a contrary noise. 

And any sense of magic in Emma’s veins evaporates suddenly and immediately, leaving her feeling hollow and alone and she knows. “He’s coming here, isn’t he?” she asks, looking back at an already nodding Regina. “How do you know?” “People have stopped dying,” Regina answers bluntly, Ruby not bothering to make her curses quiet. David yanks the phone out of her hand. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” he argues. “It’s--what happened to you last night?”

Honestly. Eye drops. She needs eye drops. In bulk. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ruby scoffs, holding both hands up in mock surrender when Emma gapes at her. “I mean you’re just a great, big giant liar, aren’t you? Emma met some guy in the hallway.” There’s a chorus of what and how and that one doesn’t even make sense because she’s fairly certain they all know how humans interact with each other, but she’s not entirely human and Mary Margaret is suspiciously quiet.

“M’s,” Emma drawls. “Thoughts? Feelings? Emotions?” “Several thousand, actually.” “You want to pick one or two? I don’t know when the Dark One is going to show up.” “We don’t know if he knows you’re in New York yet.” “You know you guys genuinely really suck at telling a complete and coherent story.” Mary Margaret’s smile is a little out of place, but Emma’s a very greedy witch and the muscles in her face ache a little when she tries to smile in response. “It’s been a disaster here since you left,” Mary Margaret says. “This man...the Dark One. He’s got--” “--Minions?” Ruby ventures. 

“Not in an animated sense. More in a...yanking people apart trying to find the spark of the Savior sense.” Emma knows, rationally, she can’t feel the blood rush out of her face. It’s impossible. Her vision swims anyway. “Anyway,” Mary Margaret continues. “There have been more than a few deaths and they’ve been, well, a little bloodier than normal deaths and then...last night. Something happened.”

“Like?”

“Magic. Powerful magic.”

Emma’s going to pass out. That can’t be a good look for the so-called savior of magic. “When?” she breathes, all too aware that she’s half admitting to something very likely didn’t actually happen and Mary Margaret’s smile wavers. 

“I don’t know...late though. Like maybe four in the morning?” She looks to David for confirmation, but only gets a head tilt and half-hearted shrug. “We were a little preoccupied with the previously discussed minions trying to get into our house.” Whatever noise Emma makes hurts her throat. 

“God, M’s,” Ruby hisses. “Way to bury the lede.” Mary Margaret waves them off. “That’s not what’s important.” Eye drops and throat lozenges and chocolate syrup. Emma should make a list. Maybe Killian knows where there’s a drug store nearby. “It’s not,” Mary Margaret continues, “what’s important is that it was magic and it was...strong. Like. Strong. We could do everything.”

“She got a whole flock of birds to get those minions away from our door,” David mutters. 

“It didn’t come from here though,” Regina adds. “That much was obvious and the Dark One while he may be the embodiment of complete evil, is not without his faculties. He’s smart. He’s calculating. And he knows that Emma isn’t in Storybrooke anymore.”

Emma exhales, pressing the pads of her fingers into her cheek like that will help the blood flow back to those particular capillaries. And the time doesn’t add up. She’d definitely fallen asleep before four o’clock. 

Damn. 

That shouldn’t be disappointing. 

“So, what do we do?” Emma asks. “He might not know we’re here now, but that’s probably only a matter of time, right?”

Regina nods. “The prophecy was clear. You’re the Savior. A key and a spark, The future of magic and light in the dark. I think that’s the most important part. You’re the future of magic, not just because you’re going to make sure we can still have it, but because you’re going to preserve it.” “Be more specific, Regina.”

“The Dark One wants magic, but he wants to use it to twist it to his own means. Evil. And absolute. No more light magic, for any of us. You’re there to stop that.” “No pressure or anything.” “Oh, a substantial amount of that. And you’re running out of time.” “Jeez, Madam Mayor,” Ruby mutters, but Emma can’t argue and they need to do something. She flutters her fingers at her side. 

“Alright,” she says. “So we’ve got to find something that will keep magic alive, but get rid of the Dark One too? Do you think they’re the same thing?” “We’re all going to die.”

The phone changes hands again, David appearing in front of the screen with a look Emma’s only seen a handful of times. She tugs her lips behind her teeth. “It’s all you, Em,” he says, a confidence in his voice that she needs to hear on repeat. “Whatever power you’ve still got, you’ve got to use it. To find something. Your magic is strong. There’s a reason you ended up in New York. There’s something there to help you.” “The world wants to help you, Ms. Swan,” Regina says. “The seeress wouldn’t have arrived to warn us, otherwise. You simply have to accept the world.”

Emma grimaces – well acquainted with years on her own and even in a town like Storybrooke, she’d always found herself standing on the outside looking in, friendships that ran deep, but not much family and only her magic and now that’s starting to disappear as well and her tongue feels as if it’s expanding in her mouth. 

She licks her lips. 

“You can do it,” Mary Margaret promises, Emma nodding. It’s not an agreement. It’s a brush off. They both know that. 

“If you had to ballpark how soon the Dark One would get here, what would you guess?”

Regina doesn’t look amused. “I wouldn’t waste much time with the man you found in the hallway, Ms. Swan. And if memory serves there’s a rather impressive myths and legends section in the New York Public Library.”

Eventually, she’s sure she won’t let every single thought she’s ever had land on her face as well as the forefront of her brain. 

“What?” Regina presses. “What’s that?” “Nothing.” “No, once more.” “The guy,” Emma says, rushing over the word and pointedly ignoring David’s gaze, “he, uh...he said he works for the library. I don’t know if it’s that one, but it’s...it’s a library.” Regina doesn’t answer. Ruby is cursing again. Mary Margaret starts pacing. 

David stares straight at Emma. 

“Be careful,” he says, and it’s not a request. It’s a plea. Emma’s heart stutters. “Please.”

“Ok.” The line goes dead, far quicker than it would have if David had, simply, hung up and the tears that land on Emma’s cheeks almost immediately feel like emotional and magical brands on her skin. God, she is melodramatic. 

“Well,” Ruby exhales. “That’s uh...no time like the present, right?” 

Emma tilts her head up, met with a determined expression that usually only shows up ahead of full moons and autumn equinoxes and her smile feels almost honest. That’s nice. 

“You’re just rearing to go, huh?”

Ruby’s grin looks a little predatory. “I’m ready to go play hero, if that’s what you’re asking. You feeling particularly magical?” “I think I’m almost willing to try.” “Ah, well, that’s half the battle, isn’t it?” She holds her hand out, Emma taking it immediately and the hug she pulls her into is tight enough to crack a few ribs. “You have any idea how to get to the library?” “Not a clue.” “What do they say? It’s a grid system?” “I think I’ve heard that somewhere before, yeah.” “Well, if we get attacked somewhere in Manhattan at least we’ll probably make the newspapers or something.” “Something,” Emma echoes. “Alright, let me at least change my clothes before we try and crash the New York Public Library.”

Ruby nods, another quick squeeze and even quicker kiss pressed to Emma’s cheek. “Crash is definitely the word you were looking for there.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t mention that her magic flared to life when she saw Killian. Or that it disappeared as soon as he walked away. She bites back the admission, positive that it isn’t important or can’t be important or some other negative contradiction she’ll come up with eventually. 

When she’s not treading dangerously close to a panic attack. 

She didn’t object to either one of the endearments. 

And it really doesn’t take long – the only clothes Emma has to change into, a pair of second-hand jeans and a few other t-shirts they’d gotten from the thrift store up the block after she’d magic’ed her way into an ATM – but she feels like she’s on the edge of something as soon as she crosses the apartment threshold, air thick and hands flexing and her eyes snap to the corner of the hallway. 

Killian’s jacket is gone. 

The New York Public Library is not loud. Everything else is. It takes her and Ruby what feels like a small eternity to walk up to it, a little confused because Bowery becomes a different street and I thought this was a grid, but that’s apparently a lie below a certain street and there are beads of sweat on Emma’s temple by the time they make it to 5th Ave. 

Where, it sounds like, a small army of people have congregated. 

Emma has no idea where to look, nails digging into her palm to stop herself from screaming. She’s not sure if she’s scared or...something else. Something else sounds worse. And very small town. 

Small town witch. 

What a ridiculous string of words. 

The noise doesn’t stop. Not on the street or in front of the park and Emma has no idea what that smell is that appears to be coming from a nearby cart. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to find some kind of equilibrium or even ground and the scene that flashes in front of her is not midtown Manhattan. 

It’s her. But...not. She’s smiling, a look of adoration on her face that she’s never used before because there’s never been anyone who warranted a look like that before. It’s enough that, for a moment, she’s distracted by what she’s wearing – a gown, in the truest sense of the word, flowing, white fabric and oversized sleeves and she doesn’t immediately realize what’s pinching at her hair.

A crown. 

She’s wearing a crown. 

“Your highness,” a voice mumbles, a hint of a smile in the words and Emma’s stomach flips. That’s confusing. “Sorry I’m late.”

Emma laughs. She feels it, the noise bubbling out of her with joy and ease and she can’t quite see the face in front of her, but she wants to. Desperately. 

So, naturally, she opens her eyes. 

“Em,” Ruby snaps, and that word sounds fearful. It shakes and rattles around Emma’s skull, impossibly loud even in front of the New York Public Library. “You ready?”

Emma nods. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s see what we can find.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #I AM SO EXCITED GUYS I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ANY OF MY LIMBS #I HOPE YOU LIKE ALL THESE WORDS #THERE ARE SO MANY WORDS

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixteen

Part Fifteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Words: 4.7k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drug abuse, minor sexual situations, mentions of depression

Tag List: @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

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———————————————————————

“It’s so good to see you again!” Tommy’s mother is as warm as she’s always been, enveloping me in to a tight hug and I gladly accept it. “You look beautiful as ever.” She assures me, pulling away to examine me.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t make it to your wedding, but we got you something.” His dad says next, handing me a small velvet box wrapped in a pretty dark green ribbon.

I take it from him, and Tommy’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I helped pick it out.” He informs me, the chains and studs of his costume clanking together with his enthusiasm.

I look at him cautiously before taking the ribbon off and opening the box.

Shining silver flashes from the set lights above us bouncing off the thin diamond studded band with a tiny crucifix charm dangling from it.

I pick up the bracelet to get a better look at it and feel the weight behind it. Before I can even ask, Tommy’s confirming:

“It’s real as shit, Viv.” He beams. “Me, Ma and Pop and Athena all pitched in for it.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he’s grabbing at my wrist and fastening the bracelet around it once we pull away.

“Hey, Doc, where’s Nikki?” He asks when he’s done, seeing Doc walk past us. “I want him to meet my folks.”

“I’ll go find him.” Doc assures him softly.

“Where’s Roxie?” I ask next, remembering him mentioning she was here and he shrugs.

“She had to go use the bathroom, I think.” Tommy tells me before offering to give his parents a tour of the set.

I follow behind them, not completely paying attention until Tommy stops and points at Nikki approaching us behind Doc, looking guilty.

“Ooh, Ma, Dad, meet the Sixxter.” He introduces Nikki, the two sharing a high-five as Tommy’s mother immediately hugs Nikki to her.

It’s obvious he’s not expecting it, a slightly confused look on his face but he doesn’t reject her.

“It’s a pleasure.” His father greets him welcomingly, extending his hand to shake Nikki’s.

“Hey, Nikki, we could fly your family out for the next L.A. gig.” Doc offers and Nikki rolls his eyes as he states:

“Great idea, Doc.” Obviously sarcastic.

I furrow my brows slightly, but save whatever questions I have about it for later.

Moving to Nikki, I snake my arms around his waist, about to press my lips to his when he turns his head away and winces a little bit, my lips instead falling to his cheek.

I go to ask what’s wrong, but Tommy interrupts me.

“Oh, guys, I want you to meet somebody else. Babe, c’mere.” He motions for Roxie who’s observing all of this from a corner.

Nikki tenses up, his eyes seeming to be able to be everywhere else but Roxie...or me. As she passes by us, he’s seemingly hiding behind his black hair, and I look between the two of them just as Tommy’s introducing Roxie as his “fiancée”, catching all of us off guard.

“What?” I blurt out, nausea stirring in my stomach.

Nikki’s blatant “are you fucking kidding me” expression is shared with Doc, and Tommy’s parents are even more taken back by the news.

“Nice to meet you.” Roxie states as she forces her hand to Tommy’s Mother, who’s still staring at her son in shock.

“We’re getting married!” Tommy exclaims excitedly.

“What’s the rush, Tom?” His dad asks him skeptically but politely. “Marriage is a big decision.”

“A very big decision.” I echo him, causing Tommy to glance at me with a glowing grin and Roxie to glare at me.

“Exactly.” Tommy pipes back as if nothing’s wrong. “Nikki was out of his mind when he proposed to you but still knew he wanted to be with you forever. And, dad, you proposed to mom the night that you guys met. And she didn’t even speak English. That’s love, dude. That’s what I’ve always wanted. And that’s what I’ve got.” He motions to Roxie as he keeps his arm around her and she looks up at him like a sweet little angel.

Nikki steps away from the conversation, his body heat leaving me as he takes his arm from over my shoulders and starts walking away.

I leave Tommy and his family to their own devices as I go after Nikki, concerned.

“Hey, baby.” I grab at his hand gently, walking fast to keep up with him.

“Hey.” He says flatly.

“Wh-what’s up?” I ask, and he stops and looks down at me.

“I’m about to go get wrecked. If you’re in, feel free to join me. If not, leave me alone for a few.” He cuts to the chase and I open my mouth to speak, but can’t form any words.

“Nikki, you know I’m not ‘in’.” I reply to him calmly.

“I’ll see you when I’m done, then.” He pushes past me and leaves me behind, confused and a little humiliated being that some of the extras working on set just watched and heard our exchange.

He apologized within a few days.

Years later I found out he had screwed Roxie that day and he was being a dick to me because he felt like a shitty husband and was pissed off that I was too good to him because, had I been a shitty wife, he would’ve at least had justification of doing such a thing—which would apparently become a reoccurring theme in the first four years of our marriage.

The only excuse he really had at the time was that we hadn’t consummated our marriage three months in to it...mainly because my “I’m not in the mood” had turned in to constant sleeping and lack of motivation to do much of anything—including personal hygiene on some days. I was depressed, and once Doc dragged me to a psychiatrist before it got too out of hand, I was put on a daily 60 milligram dose of Nardil. Being that it took the antidepressant four weeks to really kick in, that day on the set of the “Looks That Kill” video was the first day I really felt like myself and wanted to be involved again.

The album was released about a week after that, and the band and myself were dragged to hell over it, which didn’t help me all that much, and Nikki actually noticed it, despite his newly found hobby of smoking heroin with Vince, although the both of them had no idea I knew.

To solve the issue of constant negativity from newspapers and protestors and everything else in between, Nikki proposed a vacation.

"I already have everything handled. All you need to do is pack enough clothes for a week and we'll leave tomorrow." Is what he had told me when explaining a belated honeymoon.

"Why?" I asked, blinking up at him from where I laid in our bed.

"The album's out, our schedule's clear for a while now, and we just need to get away for a little bit."

So, that’s exactly what we did.

Rockstar's Wife Attends Church Service Days After Satanic Themed Album is Released

Vivian Sixx (Kinston) was seen Sunday, October 2, leaving a quaint Church of Christ service after nearly one week marking the release of her husband's band, Mötley Crüe, debuted their album “Shout At the Devil.” The cover art of the album features a dark and twisted ensemble of red lettering and an upside down five point star which is used to often symbolize demonic or satanic presence. Vivian's mother and devoted member of the Assembly of God, Charlette Kinston, has expressed her worry for her daughter after it was announced Vivian and Mötley Crüe bassist, Nikki Sixx, tied the knot back in late June. 'I pray for them both. I'm afraid he's going to kill her. He mocks our faith, his lyrics are violent and spiteful and he's going to kill her.' Charlette reported to us when we reached out to her. Despite the scrutiny, “Shout At the Devil” continues to sell impressively well, with tracks such as “Bastard”, recently released single, “Looks That Kill”, and a cover of the Beatles' “Helter Skelter”, with the title track “Shout At the Devil."

I read the article of the newspaper Doc had read in the car ride over here to drop us off before Nikki's snatching it away from me and throwing it onto the tarmac, smacking his gum and staring down at me behind his black sunglasses.

"You don't have insurance." He uses my own words against me with a smirk.

"I was just reading what they were saying about me." I argue with a shrug, stepping up the stairs.

"Nothing worth reading." He replies, popping me on the butt to move me along.

Once we get on Doc's private plane, I plop down in a seat and look out the window.

"Are you telling me where we're going, now?" I ask him.

"I told you, it's a surprise, babe." He gives me that weird devious smile he wears so well when he's up to no good.

"I don't like surprises, Nikki."

"You'll like this surprise." He nudges me and I let out a breath and nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt although I'm full of doubt.

"I don't like tropical locations." I remind him and he brushes it off.

"You don't have to worry about where we're going being tropical." He scoffs out, resting his arm on the back of my seat.

"I don't like cold weather." I add and he rolls his eyes.

"It won't be cold, Viv." He assures me and I purse my lips for a moment.

"Big cities are what we're trying to avoi—"

"Viv." He states, raising his brows, his finger sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose to expose his eyes to me.

"Yes?" I ask like a little kid getting in trouble.

"Just trust me." He orders with a little chuckle. "I'm not setting either of us up for failure. When I said 'get away' I meant it. Just relax and we'll be there in a couple hours."

Once we land and get off the plane, I'm blindsided by our location.

It's flat ground, and past the gates surrounding the tarmac, I see grassy fields.

"Welcome to Idaho." He pats at my hips and I look around at the completely flat ground around us.

"Idaho? We are honeymooning in Idaho?" I ask him, not skeptically, but in slight disbelief. "Isn't Idaho a bit humble for Nikki Sixx?"

"Where we're going is quiet, population 4,000, and no one gives a fuck about Nikki Sixx or Vivian Sixx-parenthesis-Kinston." He throws his arm around me as we step off the tarmac.

I had lived in L.A. my entire life, so, as you can imagine, a place such as Idaho was a shock to my system...mainly because I had no idea what the hell connection Nikki had to the state, that is until...

"Grandpa, this is, uh, Vivian...my wife." Nikki says to the older man that was waiting to pick us up in the parking lot.

Grandpa?

I'm probably scowling at Nikki without realizing it. I look a mess in my sweatpants and tank top with my tangled hair, and in no way presentable enough to be meeting any important family members, but I make lemonade and extend a hand to the not-so-stranger and he gives me a warm smile and grabs at my hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vivian." He tells me with a slight nod.

"You too." I reply honestly.

He and Nikki pick up our bags, putting them into the bed of a truck.

"Nona's making dinner, she nearly forgot you were coming." He tells Nikki as we get in to the truck.

I want to ask Nikki if his dad or mom lives close to his grandparents, but I'm too anxious to speak openly at the moment, deciding to save it for later.

We're arriving in Jerome, Idaho within a few minutes, and on the outskirts of the town, we pull in to the long driveway of a cozy looking house.

"We're here." His grandfather announces and we get out of the truck, examining  my surroundings.

It's flat, full of fields that hold different types of crops, and quiet.

As I'm looking around, I'm being left behind, and it isn't until Nikki whistles at me from the porch that I snap out of my observing and walk up the steps, following him inside.

"Look who I scraped off the road." His grandpa says once we're inside.

"I thought you'd leave us in the dust, rockstar." The voice is soft but holds a presence, coming from a small woman as she leans against the doorway of the steaming kitchen.

His entire rockstar, bad boy, demeanor changes as he completely engulfs her in a hug, chuckling at her reaching up to palm at his fluffy hair, verbally acknowledging the color difference since she last saw it.

Nona was the most genuine, kind, and gracious person I had ever met and she adored Nikki with every fiber of her being.

I didn't know how someone so pure could welcome a devil like Nikki with open arms. Of course to her, even after hearing about all of his nonsense, he was never a devil. He was always that charismatic, driven, dream-chasing, little boy with the poetic eyes.

She's hugging me before Nikki even properly introduces me.

"Oh, she looks just like a movie star, doesn't she, Tom?"  She asks her husband, not giving him time to reply before saying, "I have been hearing about you for so long. It's nice to finally have a face to put with the name." She tells me warmly, looking up at me as she pulls away. "I've only heard all the good things, of course." She adds.

"Except for that one time you busted his only bottle of Jack." His grandfather says from the living room. "He had a bitter mouthful to say about that when he called here.”

"Because he slammed my fingers in my car door." I defend myself and his grandmother looks at him.

"On accident." He shoots back with a tiny grin.

It's now that I notice all the postcards from L.A. scribbled on in Nikki's writing and a few of Mötley's flyers from their earlier days plastered on the fridge, as Nona's and Nikki's back and forth turns in to background noise.

"You hush and go get settled before dinner." She finally gets the last word, though her tone is more so playful than harsh, the hint of a smile on her lips that he also shares.

I follow him through the house, down a hallway where the wood paneled walls are nearly completely covered with old photographs. I fall behind Nikki, taking time to look at a majority of the pictures and try to figure out who all is who in terms of relation to him.

Finally reaching the room Nikki entered, I furrow my brows slightly.

The "spare" room seems as if someone's living in it. The walls are littered with posters of artists ranging from Elton John to Deep Purple and to KISS.

There's a few pictures set up on the chest of drawers of a younger Nikki with brown hair, with his grandparents and another with what I assume is a few school friends.

"I was, like, sixteen or seventeen in those." He tells me when he notices I'm looking at the photographs.

"You lived here?" I finally come out and ask him, sitting down on the middle of the full sized bed, and he opens his suitcase and hesitates for a second.

"Uh, you could say that, yeah." He replies flatly, grabbing a change of clothes.

"What about your mom?" I knew he had her arrested or something, but I don't know if that was before or after he lived here.

He doesn't answer as if he didn't hear me, but I know he did.

"Or your dad—"

"I'm about to get a shower." He cuts me short, tugging at my ankle, pulling me down the bed so my legs are hanging off the end of it, settling between them. "You can come, too, if you want." He teases, the palm of his hand running up and down my thigh.

"...Or you could shower and I could probably just take a nap. I'm really sleepy." I tell him softly, my hand covering the top of his and stopping it before he can slip his fingers between my legs.

"It's our honeymoon, though." He doesn't give up.

I take my bare foot and place it on his shoulder when he tries to lean down, stopping him.

"You're grandparents don't need to hear us." I chuckle, his lips pressing to the arch of my foot, before leaning down over me, anyway, my leg slipping over his shoulder in the process.

"We'll be quiet." He argues, his lips brushing against mine. "I can always gag you or something."

"Go take a shower. A cold one, preferably." I state, pecking his lips and nudging him off of me.

My sex drive has been revived ever since starting my antidepressant, however, his sweet grandfather and grandmother's presence is ruining my libido.

I pull myself to the head of the bed and get comfortable, the box fan in the corner on a low setting to whisk away any heat, and drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, the sun's almost down, and Nikki's tugging on a pair of his pants before sitting on the foot of the bed.

Unable to stop myself from shifting towards him, my hand falls on the bare skin of his back, trailing across his shoulder blade as my lips mark up his spine, feeling the way his muscles ripple under his skin, starting at the middle of his back and stopping at the back of his neck before I'm wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his cheek.

"Okay, you can't tell me to take a cold shower, and then do this." He looks at me and I furrow my brows, a little confused.

"Do what?" I ask innocently, running my finger nails across his chest.

"You..." He starts, smirking as he turns over and traps me under him, grasping one of his hands around my throat, kissing me roughly.

My legs lock around his hips, the junction of my thighs attempting to grind into him.

"The food’s ready if—oh!" Nona covers her eyes as Nikki and I scramble off of each other like a couple of teenagers caught in the act. “It’s ready. Unless you would like to wait until after you've worked up an appetite." She hints.

I burry my face in the quilt on the bed, heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment as Nikki laughs.

"Coming.” He assures her a little awkwardly breath and she clears her throat and pushes her glasses up her nose, stepping away from the doorway.

My hand's grabbing at the pillow I was laying on earlier, hitting him as hard as I can.

"Do you not know how to lock a door?!" I whisper yell and he continues to laugh.

Once we get to the dinner table, Nona's handing us both a plate of steak and potatoes.

Except it doesn't look like steak, exactly, and it certainly doesn't taste like it.

"Um, what kind of meat is this?" I ask after a couple of bites.

"Venison." His grandpa replies and I stop chewing, blinking for a moment.

"Deer?" I ask, not wanting to sound rude.

"Mule deer." He says, taking a swig of his Pepsi.

"I soaked it in vinegar and then marinade to get the gamey taste out of it." Nona cuts in, worried I might throw up. I'm worried I might throw up, too, but I manage to keep it in.

"No, no, it's fine I just...I've never had deer before." I explain, looking at Nikki.

He's licking his lips, smiling to himself at my expense and I try to rinse my mouth out with my soda after I reluctantly swallow the piece of meat I'd been chewing, and decide to eat my potatoes instead.

"You know, we didn't expect you to come." His grandfather tells him, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "You'd called and told us however many times before that you'd come for thanksgiving or Christmas and never did." He laughs to hide his obvious disappointment.

"Yeah...some things came up." Nikki doesn't look at him, cutting at his food.

"No, we understand. Between a wife and rock n' roll and partying with your friends, it's hard to make time for your family."

"They are my family." Nikki states, meeting his grandfather's gaze.

"So, Vivian, Nikki tells us you grew up in Los Angeles. Have you ever been out of the city at all?" His grandmother changes the subject to dissolve the tension forming around Nikki and his grandad and I hesitate to answer.

"I've been to New York a few times to visit our friend Tansy. She's modeling, now. But I've never been to a town as small as this." I admit. "You guys should come visit L.A. some time, actually." I offer, glancing at Nikki to see if he'd be okay with that.

"I've tried to get them to." He says lowly, cutting at another piece of meat.

"We plan on it, soon." Nona tells him calmly. "There's just a lot going on lately with Tom and I and you kids have plenty going on as well. It just hasn't been a good time is all."

"So, tell us about this mother of yours." His grandpa’s cutting in and I hesitate to answer for a moment.

"She hates us." Nikki informs him before I can.

"She thinks Nikki's the devil and I'm going to hell for marrying him." I explain.

"Oh, well..." Nona obviously doesn't know how to respond to that.

"But my dad's cool." I rush to say, trying to save the conversation from going sour. "He, um, told me he bought the new record." I add, remembering the letter I received a few days after the album was released.

"Does he like heavy music like that?" She asks and I lick my lips.

"I'm not sure. I've only ever heard him listen to gospel music, but mainly because my mom doesn't allow secular music in the house." I say.

"Do you like their music?" She questions next and I look at Nikki and my lips pull into a soft smile.

"I've built up my tolerance to it." It's as if I've thrown cold water in Nikki's face.

He was obviously expecting me to kiss his ass about it, and his grandparents laugh.

"Kidding." I do some damage control, gently nudging Nikki with my elbow as he looks at me unamused. "I think he's a brilliant songwriter. And the talent of everyone else's efforts match the composer's."

He rolls his eyes at me and I do the same to him, causing him to make a childish face at me and I mimic him.

"Are you going to school now or...?" She takes a sip of her drink before pulling me out of my back and forth with Nikki.

"Uh, I'm taking some time off." I tell her with a curt nod.

"She got a full ride to Juilliard for ballet, though." Nikki cuts in, taking a bite of meat. “She’s a fucking genius.” He adds proudly and I rub my lips together to hold back a giggle at the way his grandparents look at him.

“Language.” His grandad reminds him and Nikki holds back a smart-ass laugh.

“Why did you not go?” Nona asks me and I look at Nikki, who looks at me knowingly and I clear my throat.

"I didn't want to leave L.A." I explain. “Mainly my friends.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure there’s plenty of other schools closer by whenever you decide to go.” She replies hopefully and me nor Nikki have the heart to tell her I’m probably never going back to school with the way things are going for the band. “...Of course if you have babies, it’ll be harder to go to school and be there for them, especially if he’s on the road and no one’s there to help you.”

I lose my appetite immediately, and Nikki’s reading my expression like a book.

“She’ll be on the road with me.” He tells her. “I don’t care if we have to get a bigger bus for our kids to fit.” He’s certain of it and I swallow thickly, downing a few gulps of water to calm the prickling in my skin.

“I've got a cake in the refrigerator." Nona offers, noticing I’ve stopped eating. “If you want some for dessert.”

"No, thank you. I've had a long day. I just want to sleep." I decline politely and she nods, she and her husband bidding me Goodnight.

“I’ll be in there in a few minutes, babe.” Nikki says as I stand up and I nod, kissing the top of his fluffy hair briefly before stepping to his bedroom.

I stay in my T-shirt and pull off my pants and panties before I get comfortable on the side of the bed I’ve claimed as mine.

Every now and then I hear a car drive by on the quiet country road, and sometimes Nikki’s boyish laughter echos up the hall and crawls under the door to make me smile.

God, I love him.

After about an hour of hearing his conversations with his grandparents, they’re all saying goodnight.

The door creaks open and he shuts it behind him when he gets inside, stepping to his bag to drink a few gulps of Jack from the bottle he packed.

“They fucking love you.” He mumbles to me once he’s finished, pulling the covers back and crawling in to bed.

I turn to face him, getting as close to him as I can, actually enjoying the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“Of course they do.” I arrogantly agree, my voice deliberately holds an overzealously glamorous tone. “Everyone does.” I add and he scoffs at me, causing a small chuckle to leave me.

We lay in silence for a few moments, our eyes adjusting to the pitch dark of the room, aside from the moonlight streaming through the window.

His hand reaches out to graze my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my bottom lip and my tongue darts out to taste it.

A deep breath sucks in to his chest when I do this, and I don’t give him time to think before my lips brush against his.

Just as he opens his mouth slightly to tease at my tongue with his, my teeth are playfully tugging at his bottom lip, earning a faint groan from him as he pulls me up to straddle him.

Hands snake up my waist, making their way under my shirt and along my ribs, his rough palms grabbing at my chest, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples.

Heat pours from between my thighs and I pull the T-shirt from over my head, leaning back to moan out soft enough that no one in the house can hear it.

My lips find his again, one of his hands moving to my throat.

He goes to tug at the chain of my crucifix but I stop him.

“We’re married, now.” I remind him in a whisper, taking shallow breaths. “Sex in a marriage is a form of worship to God.” I add, my hands grazing over his bare shoulders.

“Bullshit.” He says back and I shake my head a little.

“I’m serious.” I tell him with a little smile, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

For once I’m saying something about God that he can get behind: the sleazier and more creative the sex is, the better. For worshipping purposes, of course.

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” He says with a sly smile and I laugh as he turns over and pins me to the bed.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #douglas booth #daniel webber #colson baker #the dirt

[grimweaver]

A piece from 2011. Bear in mind that a lot of details (too many to list) have been changed since then and I was fresh into writing Elder Scrolls stories at the time. 

----

PART I

It seemed too perfect to exist outside the pages of a storybook; a hillside farm house with a grand view of the Imperial City, not far from the edge of the Upper Niben. It was a piece of country undisturbed by the bothersome ruckus of town, but close enough to the city to make the weekly trip for necessities hassle-free. Aaron was especially ecstatic about the new home, but for his own special reasons. There were more insects and small animals for the young boy to catch and play with, and the nature-enthusiast had a lot of yard explore.

"Remember, this is not at all like the city!" A voice called out from the front porch. "Do not wander too far or out of sight." "Da!" Aaron blasted from where he was playing, not more than a hundred feet away. "I'm ten years old! I'm almost a man!" "Doesn't matter- there are things out here that make an easy meal out of people- boy or man."

"Yeah, and you face them almost every day!"

"Because it's been my job for almost fifteen years now. I have skills and wits that help me survive each encounter."

Indeed. Since the raw age of thirteen his father made a living as a large game hunter. Because he was one of the few that dared to take on an animal twice the size of an average man he was well respected and heavily paid. It didn't hurt that, as one born under the Shadow, he had the ability to make himself invisible for a brief amount of time- that was a valuable power for someone who had to strike his target before it even suspected that it had company. One could say he managed well for a single parent, but because he was alone it was still a struggle in the beginning. But when Aaron was older and experienced enough to share chores and look after himself, it lightened the burden his father had to carry.

Aaron noticed him wincing with a sharp, backwards hiss through his teeth. He abruptly jumped to his feet and raced over to see what he was doing, carrying the large toad he caught in his gentle hands.

After reaching the steps of the the porch he was met with an unexpected and disturbing sight. "Da? What are you doing?"

"Something I've meant to do for a long time." His father's right arm was covered in red marks, which were made by the edge of the dagger he carefully scraped over his skin. But careful or not the bleeding couldn't be avoided. Aaron was shocked and confused by what seemed like an act of insanity. Perhaps being bored out of his mind in the country was what drove him to do it. "And I think you're old enough to understand why I'm doing this."

"Ya, I really hope you do tell me why you're cut'n yerself up! Are ya going crazy?" "No." His father chuckled. "Y'know that this part of my arm was always covered, right? Wrist bands, long sleeves, gloves, gauntlets..." "Yeah, come to think of it." "And you see what I've been covering up, since I haven't finished removing it?" "A... tattoo. But da you have a few others that y'never cover up. Why this one?" "Because this one was a declaration to the world of a commitment and promise."

Aaron was in silent contemplation for a moment, sighing as he watched the remaining black marks on his father's skin turn red. He cringed, not because he was abhorred by wounds, but because he thought about how much the process of removing the tattoo must hurt.

"To ma?" Was all he uttered after being quiet for so long.

His father paused briefly as he looked down at him with his solemn brown eyes, before narrowing his brow and coldly paraphrasing. "To the woman that gave birth to you. There are probably a thousand things one could call her, but 'ma' is not one of them." He continued scraping.

Aaron's brow popped up. Had he been a boy who knew his mother at all he would've been offended by his father's criticism, which seethed with an old contention. But until he learned about how life began he thought Lucien LaChance was the only parent he ever had.

"That's gonna scar bad." Aaron pointed out, half distracted from the subject. "Probably. But it'll be much easier to look at." He smirked as he applied a disinfecting paste to his arm.

"What happened?" He asked, taking his gaze off of Lucien's arm to give him direct eye contact. "Please, da. Like ya said I'm old enough to know... and don't sugar-coat it." "I never have, and I certainly don't intend to now. You deserve the unadulterated truth."

Aaron seated himself on the old wooden chair next to Lucien, waiting attentively for what he believed was going to be a long story. As Lucien began to wrap his arm he searched the sky for his reflection.

"She got into the skooma... and then entered the world that revolved around it. She left us for it... and then it killed her." Was all he said, crunching the entire story down to a few simple sentences. Aaron sighed heavily, petting the toad as he watched it's throat bubble out each time it took in a breath.

"I'm sorry, buddy." Lucien heaved as he slouched back. "It's alright." "We've been doing just fine on our own haven't we? I've tried to be both parents... to give you a happy life..." "I know... yeah everything's fine. I never knew her so... it's not that big'a deal. I'm happy. But are you happy?" Lucien chuckled. "You make me happy, kiddo. I think that I'd be lost in this world without ya." "Aaaw." Aaron made a wry face at his father's 'mushy' words. That's when he decided to change the topic. "So, y'gotta hunt tonight?"

"No, Aaron. It's Sundas. We're going into town." "We?" "Yes, 'we'. You and I." "But what about the goats? Don't ya want me t-" "They'll be fine. I put plenty of food in the trough to keep them happy all day. Go wash up real quick cause if we want to be back before sunset we gotta leave in a few minutes. Alright?" "Sure!"

Aaron bolted through the creaky front door with zeal in his heart. Lucien picked up the toad that was sitting contently on the table in front of him and gave it a quick pat on the head before releasing him into the field.

Lucien did not 'sugar-coat' the story at all, but he withheld lot of details. He did not want to be a man that allowed his past to consume him or anyone else. That is why he decided to finally remove that tattoo, which was a part of a traditional Imperial marriage. He did not want to drown others in the grimy tales of what he had to endure since the night his ex-wife, Rosalla, started behaving strangely. He also avoided telling Aaron that it began shortly after he was born because he knew that the boy would ask if it had anything to do with him, and Lucien would have to answer truthfully. The truth was 'yes'.

No one needs that on their conscience. He thought.

As Lucien waited for Aaron, the memories he struggled to distance himself from lurched out. Memories of Rosalla's mood swings that got worse and more frequent during the five days that followed Aaron's birth; Lucien was verbally and physically assaulted every time he returned from a hunt- she was convinced that 'hunting' was a code word for 'seeing other women'. It wasn't the truth, but the quirky voice in her head told her that it was. The voice also told her that Lucien drank heavily and hit her with the broken leg of a chair, and she distributed those rumors through her equally eccentric friends. Fortunately the people Lucien had to worry about receiving those rumors knew it was a lie, seeing no evidence whatsoever that she was even pinched.

Lucien didn't know it at the time, but this was the first prominent sign that Rosalla was ingesting skooma. If he did he would've been prepared for the next appalling act that happened a week later. He returned one night to a house void of anyone but a very neglected infant. Aaron was crying at the top of his lungs over several things that were not tended to- he was hungry, heavily soiled, cold, and deprived of parental love for what seemed like the entire day. The desperate father rifled through the entire town for help because he did not have the means to feed him. Fortunately Velus of the Merchant's Inn had a good alternative to breast milk and the starving child was finally well fed.

Rosalla's whereabouts and reason for absence was unknown to him for quite some time. After another week, worry promptly turned into fury when she returned. She was not kidnapped, trapped, or harmed in any other way- she was staying in one of the hotel rooms at "The King and Queen Tavern", taking in enough shots of skooma to completely loose sense of time and concern for anything but herself. Lucien demanded an explanation, and that is when she revealed to him the shady life of self abuse that involved not only skooma but lewd activities with groups of men and women that were also lost to the substance. She poured out all of her hatred for the tedious repetition of...

"Eating, baby, cooking, baby, sleeping, baby! No more thrills! No more joy! Just routine!" She screamed.

She did not have Lucien's sympathy. Instead he expressed how disgusted he was by her lack of strength and willpower. He contested with the fact that...

"Everyone has to put up with a long stretch of dull and strenuous routine every now and then! That's life! And it's not like this all the time, you just dwell on nothing but the negative and ignore all the wonderful things that are right there within reach- I ask if you want to go out you pout'n say you don't feel like it! I ask if you want me to stay home and you say you want me to go ahead and get the hell out of the house and leave you alone! You are such a piece of work! And this skooma... and everything you've been doing... God, I thought you were above this! I never thought you were stupid enough to fall into it... do you know what it does.. or what it has done to you!"

It was pointless for Lucien to recount the fact that he didn't leave everything up to her. He helped out around the house when he was able to- but Rosalla stubbornly believed that she did everything and he did nothing. She hardly noted the many nights Lucien got less than two hours of sleep because he offered to lift the baby burdens off of her weary shoulders. But the one thing that made it clear to Lucien that Rosalla was no longer going to be in the picture was the unforgivable act of abandoning the infant. It was not going to take more than one incident to convince him to extinguish her from their lives. So the night that Rosalla returned was also the night he would see her for the last time. Out of fear of harassment Lucien decided to move out of the Waterfront District house and live secretly with Velus and his wife Janine. One month later, imperial legionnaires reported to LaChance that they found Rosalla's body in Bravil.

He felt no remorse.

The first five years did not simply roll by- they sluggishly moved through a horrible grit. Such times in Cyrodiil were unkind to single parents.

But we made it. I don't know how... but we always found a way. Lucien thought. One can get through anything if they have unwavering faith and spiritual endurance.

Lucien did not give up, and keeping his son in mind inspired him to preserver.

#lucien lachance #elder scrolls stories

[wannawritefast]

Bonnie and Clyde

A/N: As you guys can tell, I suck at posting. I’m busy and still have a crappy laptop and ant to only post stuff that I am proud of. So my posting schedule is a bit few and far between and Im super sorry. Thank you, though, to those of you who have stuck around and read my stuff. And to those who are just reading this as your first time reading my fic. Thank you! All feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Xoxo- Mama Echo

Request- anon requested: “Hii!! Love angel! Could you possibly write a fic where you and digger meet and become crime partners and spend quite a bit of time robbing banks and end up falling in love.”

Pairing: Digger Harkness x Reader, Captain Boomerang x Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of blood, a little bit of kissing (does that count?), Violence

Robberies were an… unconventional way to make a living. To most. But hey… It’s not like you could do much else. No one wanted to hire you. McDonald’s didn't want you as a cashier. Walmart didn't hire you. Not even those cute little 50’s diners that are typically waitressed by either college students or older women wanted you working for them. You couldn't even find work as a mascot or a sign twirler.

You couldn't sing (that high school choir teacher kept you on out of pity alone). You couldn't dance (Dance Dance Revolution was the bane of your existence). Hell, you couldn't even draw a rabbit if your life depended on it. You were seriously lacking in arts department adequacy.

You were running out of options. So, you made use of the one thing you could use. Your street smarts. You were definitely cunning enough. Not everyone could talk their way out of being arrested not once, not twice, but four times.

The rooftops and underground tunnels had practically been your playground as a child. You got your fair share of watching things unfold with an eye in the sky. Gotham wasn’t exactly prone to producing the most caring parents anyways. You’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. And no one cared! You honestly preferred it to the hellhole some of your siblings called “home.”

But where they picked up honorable professions like lawyers, doctors, teachers, and good respectable citizens of Gotham you reserved yourself to the path of thievery.

And you were so damn good at it. You learned the ins and outs of the basic and not-so-basic security systems. You found out through trial, error, and YouTube videos how to wield knives, guns, staffs, and basically anything you could use as a weapon. You learned how to make poisons, how to hit a vital point, how to take down someone with a gun, how to adjust to your environment, and how to frame someone else for a crime.

But most importantly, you worked alone.

Always.

Trust was too risky, in your humble opinion. It wasn't something that could be thrown about willy-nilly.

You had been planning this heist for weeks now. Months. You got the building floor plans. You found a way to access the main routes of the security guards. You even got your hands on disabling the alarms for a short amount of time.

Street smarts get you places. Not thousands of dollars’ worth of schooling to be a good person.

Pfft! Where’s the fun in that anyways?

After picking up a free taxi ride to the Gotham City Museum, (Don't ask…) you took in the scene before you. Your eyes fell on the front entrance of the closed building and found it surprisingly unguarded. And dark. Perfect… No one would notice if you cut the power. You snuck around the side of the monumental museum and found the power box.

The power box was already open and tampered with. Shit. Someone’s here.

A sense of dread filled you. The electricity from the sparking power box spat at you furiously. Someone's here already.

And it isn't a security guard. To hell with the plan.

You needed to get to that ‘Historic Jewelry’ exhibit and fast. You put your velvet gloves on, pulled your mask on, and checked your voice distorter as you ran back to the front entrance of the building.

Unlocked…Shit…

You sprinted down the main entrance hall. Maps and directories zoomed past you along with benches, tables, and closed fast food vendors. You took note of the poorly guarded ice cream shop. It wasn't your fault if they had terrible security.

You were about to turn the corner when you heard the crackling of a walkie-talkie and booted footsteps on the marble floors. Security guard!

You stopped so fast that you fell forward. Shit! Maybe you did need to follow your plan a little closer.

You scrambled to your feet and bolted to the circular concierge desk. Diving over the top of the counter, it was only at that moment that you realized the damn area was made of glass. Stupid rich people and their stupid interior decorating niches!

You silently cursed yourself for your recklessness. You had about 8 seconds before the security guard turned the corner and saw you. Quietly, you climbed up the sign that said ‘Resources’ and tucked yourself into the inverted nook of the other side.

Just as you secured yourself in your hiding spot, you heard a voice speak up, “Who’s there?” You winced quietly as your heart pounded. You slowly unzipped your pouch of poison and took out your favorite white cloth.

“I know there's someone there,” he called. You heard the click of a prepped gun echo through the cavernous hall. A beacon of light silhouetted the sign you were curled into on the floor in front of you. The shadow wobbled and became unfocused as he rounded the corner and appeared below you. He scanned his flashlight along the food court that lay before you.

You took his bewilderment to advantage and pounced onto the ground behind him. The security guard noticed someone landed behind him when it was too late. You latched your arm around his neck as the ragged cloth in your other hand found its way to the man’s nose and mouth. After a few seconds of struggling, the heavy man went limp in your arms.

You slowly guided the unconscious man’s body to the ground. As soon as he was situated on his back, you took your gun out. You prepped the gun and pointed it at the man’s head hesitantly.

After a brief look back at the situation you decided that because he hadn't seen you, you would spare him… Besides the picture of kids in his wallet looked fairly recent…

And you didn't want to ruin your cover, right? You didn't kill unless the other guys shot first.

Knowing that another guard wouldn't make his way here in at least another half hour you bolted to the exhibit.

You finally arrived to the exhibit and stood still in the doorway. You holstered your gun and proceeded forward.

Until you heard voices. Goddammit! Was every security guard in Gotham City at this museum? No wonder crime is so high in Gotham. Every officer they have is here guarding the damn jewelry.

Cursing yourself mentally, you tucked yourself behind a display that held brooches that First Ladies had worn. From behind two layers of glass you looked where the voices had come from. To your slight relief, you found that the two who had been talking weren’t security guards. But they were guarding another person and he was right where you needed to be.

You inspected the two men a little closer. You almost groaned when you saw that they were young bar crawlers that would think that “no” means “convince me.”

You snuck back to the entrance that you had come through. You needed to lure at least two of three out.

Pulling your mask up so that your distortion wouldn’t affect your voice, you let out a light fake sneeze and listened to it echo through the mostly empty building.

“What was that?” a voice asked from the exhibit room. It sounded disgustingly like gravel and your skin crawled.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t hear anything. You must need to get your ears checked.” The second growled. His voice rattled with phlegm and you felt a bit of vomit bubble up from your stomach.

“I’m not stupid. I know I heard something.”

“Well, if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you check it out, Randy,” the second suggested.

“Maybe I will, Bill,” the first challenged. Men are so predictable…All you need to do is add testosterone and they just throw common sense out the window.

“No one’s stopping you,” exclaimed the second.

“Fine!” Ugh, they’re like children…but bigger and more gross.

“Fine!”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your mask back down. You quickly unhooked your garrote from its place on your hip with a metallic twang. Crossing your wrists, you leaned against the wall and awaited the man who had heard you. The silver wire glinted mischievously in the moonlight.

The lumbering man named Randy rounded the corner and when you were sure he was out of view of Bill, you attacked. You stepped behind him quietly and looped the garrote over his head, around his neck. The poor man didn’t even notice you had entrapped him.

You pulled the handles down a little harder than you had expected and Randy was yanked to the floor. Unfortunately, the weight of the man brought you down with him. You grunted with the sudden change in gravity but kept your grip on the handles.

Randy frantically scratched at the wire tightened around his throat but he wasn’t slowing down. You changed your position so that your feet were on his shoulders and you straightened your legs to get more power. The poor man was so desperate to be released that he brought his huge fist down right on your ankle. A sob of pain escaped your lips, a strange sound with your voice distorter. You pulled even harder. It was only a matter of time before his buddy got curious.

The man slowly struggled less and less. After three minutes of constant fighting the man lay deathly still. You cautiously felt his intensely marred throat for a pulse. Nothing.

You were still hot from the effort of taking down the first guard. Sweat soaked the crown of your head as you pulled the now sticky garrote from his neck and reattached it to its original spot. One down, you thought to yourself, two to go…

You took the mask off of your head as your heart beat fast at the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the mini workout you had just accomplished. You cracked your neck and stretched out to calm yourself.

This time you would use a different tactic that had never failed you. You tousled your hair and put on your red lipstick.

“Randy!” Bill called. “You ok over there?” You put on your best doe-eyed look and cleared your throat.

“Hello?” you called lightly, making sure your voice sounded as feminine as possible.

You peered around the corner at the middle-aged man. The man looked startled to see you. He was about to say something before you put your finger to your lips motioning for him to be quiet. Bill swallowed harshly and gaped at you. You curled your finger toward him in a gesture to beckon him to come to you.

He pointed to his chest and mouthed “Me?” You resisted your urge to both roll your eyes and throw up as you affirmed his question with a doe-eyed look and a wink.

This guy was seriously stupid. Here you were in the middle of a museum in the dark of night and he thought that some lost girl just sauntered into this exact exhibit looking for a good time? What an idiot… If it's this easy to get someone to do something, maybe henchmen weren’t a bad investment after all.

You walked back to the corner and waited for him to appear. As soon as he turned the corner you gave him a sweet smile. He smirked disgustingly and you roundhouse kicked him with your good ankle in response. He crumpled to the ground unconscious. It was your turn to smirk. You leaned over him as you poured fast-acting poison down his throat and forced him to swallow it. He convulsed briefly then lay still. Second down…Here comes the home stretch.

You limped back to the exhibit and pulled the mask on. The man still had his back to you as you approached. Many of the cases were already open and empty. You estimated that he had cleaned out about $10 million dollars-worth of stuff already. His gloved fingers plucked the massive diamond from its display. That diamond alone was worth $4 million and you could practically see yourself signing the check for your own house. He stuck it in his bag that held other jewelry pieces from the museum cases you had passed.

You unsheathed one of your knives as he turned and pressed it to his throat. You shoved him into the display case he had just stolen from. He looked at you with surprise.

You examined him for a moment. Your arm was pressed against his chest and you could feel his muscles along your forearm as he breathed. The man had dark blue eyes that looked almost green and his face was riddled with cuts, a bruise, and scars. You were taken aback by how handsome the bearded man was and decided to let him know.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat this second,” your distorted voice threatened. His green orbs flickered down to the blade pressed to his windpipe before he stared you right in the eyes.

With one swift movement, he pulled out a gun and pressed it to your jaw. “That reason enough for you,” he questioned. You gulped at the feeling of the barrel of the pistol held against the base of your jaw and slightly in realization that he had an accent. Australian… Damn, if he wasn’t holding your income for the next 30 years…

You suddenly disarmed him like you had done so many times before and smirked at him as his gun clattered to the floor. He put his hands up in surrender.

“You were saying,” you goaded.

“Ok, mate,” the Aussie began, “First of all, what the fuck. Secondly- Oh my god, look!”

He pointed behind you exaggeratedly and you deadpanned. “What was the point in that,” your distorted voice asked.

“Worth a shot,” he shrugged.

“I’m still waiting for that reason,” you reminded him.

“Ok, seriously, how did you get past my guards.” He asked with his gorgeous accent. He would’ve been more gorgeous if he wasn’t holding your bag of jewels. What the fuck am I thinking?! He furrowed his brows in confusion at my ability to get to him.

“I strangled the first and poisoned the second.”

“Damn, you’re hardcore.”

“Well, they were stupid so… Not my fault.”

“I was going to kill them, anyways. They actually thought that I was going to split it with them,” he laughed a little bit.

“That’s really funny! Yeah,” you laughed with him then turned serious, “Hand me the bag.”

“What? No!”

“Um, yes,” you protested. You reminded him just how sharp your knife was.

“Oi, why do you have the little voice changing thingy, anyways” he asked suddenly. You swallowed harshly.

“Why- why not? It’s good for my cover,” you stammered with your voice still robotic sounding.

“That’s what a mask is for,” he stated, “You don’t need a voice changing thingy for that.”

“It’s called a voice distortion box,” you corrected.

“I don’t care what it’s called! You’re hiding something,” he accused.

“I'm the one hiding something? We're both thieves. Why don't you read the fucking room, bud?”

His eyes burned into yours and you had to look away for a moment. You turned your head to look at the display cases over his shoulder when something caught your eye.

There, back against the glass of a display case, was a security guard. And he had his eyes set right at the man you were pressed against. He hadn’t seen you yet but if he shot he would soon enough.

You looked at the tall muscular man in front of you with a sudden change in demeanor. He looked at you the same way.

You whispered, “There’s a security guard on the other side of a glass case behind you.”

He looked to you with fear in his eyes and the strange feeling of wanting to comfort him arose in your chest. He responded, “Yeah, there’s one there behind you too.”

Your heart leapt in terror. “Ok, grab your gun,” you whispered to him.

“I can’t. It’s on the floor, remember?” he explained. You cursed yourself for what seemed like the millionth time this night.

Then you realized how loud your distortion box was. Quickly making a choice, you yanked your mask off and stuffed it into your bra. You looked to the Aussie in front of you and he stared at you in shock. “Y-you’re a girl,” he marveled quietly.

“Yes, I’m a girl. You better get over it quickly or we’re both going to have bullets in our heads. Now, in my back pockets are two extra pistols. Grab them,” you elaborated.

“You’re kinda hot,” he commented with a handsomely crooked smile. You gave him a look as you blushed furiously. You hoped that the darkness was hiding the redness tickling your face.

“Now’s not the time for that,” you quipped, “I need you to grab the pistols. I can't grab them because the movement would be too sudden and we would, again, end up with bullets in our brains. For the second time, the guns are in the back pockets of my pants.”

“Right,” he nodded obediently. You sheathed your knife and raised your eyebrows in a go-ahead type of cue.

His green eyes stayed on yours as his rough hands slowly smoothed over your waist. There was something pleasant about having his hands on you. Not the time, not the time… Eye contact still maintained, you felt his fingers move down your back and graze a patch of exposed skin.

Your stomach did a gymnastics routine as he blinked at you with his long dark lashes. His hands started down the curve of your butt and something changed in his pretty forest-colored eyes. You prayed to whoever your maker was that you would be alive to explore it more in the future. You felt his hands grab onto the handles of the pistols.

The right side of your pants got lighter as he slid the gun along your hip and held it to you at stomach level. You grabbed it and prepped the barrel.

You were a little more than stunned when he wrapped both arms around you again. Still maintaining the staring match the two of you had, he grabbed the remaining pistol and pushed you into his chest. You looked at him with wide eyes, questioning why he did so. He returned a look that unmistakably said, trust me.

The scary thing was, that even though you vowed to never trust anyone else, you did trust him.

You nodded tentatively at him and he gave you a mischievous smile.

Before you knew what was happening, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and fired his gun that was in his other hand. You heard a body hit floor after the gunshot rang through the building. You saw the guard behind your human shield aim his weapon and you rapidly pushed the Aussie to the floor straddling his waist so he was underneath you. Safe. The case shattered above you and a shower of glass rained down on the two of you. You curled into his chest and waited for the glass to settle before sitting up and firing your pistol at the remaining guard. You got him in the first shot but he had fired his gun milliseconds before you fired yours. His bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Mother fucker!” you fumed. Your hand shot to grasp your shoulder. The Aussie sat up surprised by how quickly you had taken action.

“You alright there, love?” he asked with genuine concern. With a sour expression, you nodded.

He held out his hand, “I’m Digger, by the way.”

You clutched at your shoulder as it throbbed. You calmed yourself enough to speak up again.

“Y/n,” you offered in response and he smiled that devilishly attractive smirk. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He smiled at your suggestion. You stood up and he followed suit. “Which way,” you questioned.

You caught a glimpse of the bag of jewels lying mockingly by the case. You glared at it but not before grabbing it. Digger put his hand on your waist suddenly.

“Whoa, hey,” you pushed his hand away. “Let's not get handsy.”

“As much as I'd love to, you are in no position to walk. So I'm just going to-” he reached for your waist again and you swatted his hand away again.

“I can walk. Thank you very much,” you crossed your arms and whimpered at the pain it caused to your bullet wound. You remembered your ankle when you shifted your weight painfully. But you kept a tough face.

“Y/n,” he crooned lowly with his hypnotizing accent. Oh baby Jesus… You forgot that you were supposed to respond for a moment.

“Digger,” you replied in the same tone.

“You gonna walk or what?”

“Yeah, of course. I was just waiting for you to go first. Chivalry isn't dead, you know,” you said flatly. The pain in your arm was reeling.

“You're in pain,” he stated. He rolled his green eyes humorously.

“I'm in pain,” you agreed embarrassed.

“Let me help you out,” he offered, “you saved my life.”

“You saved mine.” You fired back.

Without another word, he handed you the bag of priceless jewelry and scooped you up in his arms. Digger only gave you a funny look and walked toward the exit of the museum.

After guiding him to your way home, you arrived at your apartment. You hopped lightly out of his arms careful to not put weight on your ankle.

Your apartment wasn't anything special. Unlocking the door you limped into your living room: your favorite spot in the apartment. It was simple but cozy. It had a couch, a cheap TV, and a plethora of blankets. Soft lighting from your old lamp helped sooth you despite your eventful day.

Digger locked the door behind you as you hurled the bag of expensive jewelry on your stained armchair. You lugged your first aid kit from under your couch and popped the latches open. You grabbed an Ace Wrap out and took off your shoe gingerly or attempted to as Digger sat down next to you. The TV was still on from earlier in the day. It was perpetually on the news channel for obvious reasons.

With difficulty from both the pain in your ankle and the throbbing from your shoulder you fiddled unsuccessfully with your laces. Wordlessly Digger grabbed your legs and pulled them toward him as he gently went to work on your shoe laces. Something about the gesture felt strangely kind and you didn't feel at all unsafe as he did so. Nervous in fact.

You watched as he pulled your boot off of your foot and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. He gently rolled the ankle around testing its range of motion. As it was turned toward your other foot, a sharp pain shot up through your leg and stabbed at your hip. A scream of pain ripped through the air of your apartment and Digger jumped at sound.

You yanked your leg up to your chest but Digger wrapped his hand around your knee and pulled it back. A tear involuntarily rolled itself down your cheek. You turned your face away and handed him the Ace wrap. You felt the cloth slowly wrapped itself around your ankle. The pain throbbed as it got tighter and you winced as another tear silently fell. This hurt like a bitch.

You had clenched your eyes so tight that you didn't even notice that Digger had finished wrapping your ankle. You didn't even notice that he had seen you cry until his finger caught a third tear escaping your eye. Stunned again by his kindness, your eyes snapped open and saw how close he was. Less than a foot away, you gazed into the Aussie’s gorgeous green eyes. Your eyes darted down to his lips momentarily. Was he going to kiss you? He leaned forward and reached for your zipper.

“Not even gonna wait for the first date? Someone's impatient,” you smirked. He chuckled lightly.

“Definitely not gonna wait to get your shoulder cleaned,” he bemused, "but I'm flattered.”

“Oh. In that case,” you pulled the gloves off your hands and unzipped the top. You gingerly pulled it off your injured shoulder and tossed it to the side with your shoe. You grabbed the medical alcohol and sauntered to the bathroom in just your bra and pants. Digger followed with an amused smirk on his face.

You sat on the counter and leaned your shoulder over the sink. Or at least attempted to. Every time you put pressure on your arm it stung like no other. You cursed at your lack of coordination.

“Having trouble,” Digger asked as he leaned in the doorway. You only answered him with a look. No matter what you seemed to do it only ended in an awkward position.

“No,” you answered defiantly. He raised an eyebrow at you. You did need a little bit of help. “Fine. Yes. I need help,” you sighed relenting. “But only because you offered.” You eyed him warily as he grabbed the alcohol and took the cap off. “This is gonna hurt. Isn't it?”

“Only a little, love. I'll do it when you're not expecting it.”

“How could I not be expecting it when you literally have the bottle in your ha- OW!” Digger did do it when you didn't expect him to. You just didn't expect it so soon. A sharp sting raced up your neck and arm. Strings of creative curses escaped your mouth and filled the bathroom. “MOTHERFUCKER!”

He curtly set the bottle back on the counter. “All done.”

“‘All done.’” You mocked his accent. “You dump alcohol on my wounded shoulder while I scream in pain and the only thing you have to say is ‘all done’. I have half a mind to kick you out ri-”

But Digger didn't let you finish. He covered his lips over your angry ones. Your resolve melted into his kiss. You momentarily forgot about what had just happened when he pulled away. Mild disappointment washed over you. “Sorry about that,” you whispered. Your noses were still almost touching. “I’ve got a bit of a temper if you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed,” he commented as he leaned his face forward to capture your lips again. You closed your eyes and sighed as he worked his mouth against yours. Somehow his hands slid down your hips and around your ass eventually finding the back of your thighs and lifting you to on top of the bathroom counter. Your hands instinctively made their way to his unruly light brown hair and his beanie fell to the floor haphazardly.

The intensity in the small bathroom only increased. Digger pushed the small of your back closer to him, the already close proximity not close enough evidently. You nipped at his lips teasingly and a chuckle hummed against his mouth and yours.

“Mrow.”

“What the hell was that,” Digger asked pulling away, just as startled as you were.

You looked to the source of the sound and found one of your cats rubbing Digger’s ankles.

“That’s Clyde.” You giggled. A second one, Bonnie, hopped up onto the counter next to you. The ginger tabby walked into your lap and began sniffing your face not even minding the awkward position that you were in.

“I should have known you were a cat person,” Digger crouched down next to Clyde as your third and final cat trotted into the bathroom. Capone, your tuxedo cat, sat right at the doorframe and observed the situation in the bathroom with a cool reserve.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. I rather like cats,” he beckoned to Capone, rubbing his fingers together. Capone blinked at him, took a few strides forward, and sat again this time just out of Digger’s reach. Somehow Clyde had made his way onto Digger’s shoulders and Bonnie was seriously contemplating joining him. Digger scooted closer to your tuxedo cat.

“It’s ok, Dig. Capone usually doesn’t take to…” You trailed off when your usually stoic feline laid down in front of Digger. “...strangers.”

The Australian shot you a cocky look as Capone basked in the attention of his new friend. Bonnie and Clyde took turns yelling at Digger for some of his attention as well. You laughed at how fast Digger had charmed your furry children.

“What?” He asked with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a flirty smirk though. It wasn’t ingenuine either. But it was a smile that you felt had been reserved for you. And only you. It was happy and warm and it was yours. Somehow, in that soft bathroom lighting with two noisy cats and the stench of medical alcohol after a successful heist Digger had wormed his way into your heart too.

You shook off your moment of introspection. “You really give a new meaning to cat burglar, you know that, right?” Digger threw his head back in laughter. “You’ve stolen their hearts in a mere matter of minutes.”

“Have I stolen yours?” There was that cheeky lilt in his voice that you would never admit was actually quite attractive.

“Now, now. Let’s not get cocky, casanova…”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“You like me!”

“What are you five?”

“You didn’t deny it either,” you rolled your eyes and picked up Capone as you walked out of the bathroom. You slung him over your shoulder like a baby and he sat there. He kneaded the air with his white mitts contentedly. “Here me out though. I-”

“Wait, do you hear that?” You shushed him for a moment as you rushed to the remote and turned up the volume on the TV.

The plastic-looking woman reported from her futuristic looking conference table, “We have some breaking news from Gotham City Museum. An armed robbery occurred about an hour ago and famous jewelry from the travelling ‘First Ladies and Royalty’ exhibit, amongst other priceless artifacts, is gone. Let’s send it over to Kaye.”

Your gaze met Digger’s in shock. You had been thorough… What went wrong?

“Thanks, Wanda. We are at the scene of the crime here at Gotham City Museum. This felony has left 2 security guards and 2 criminal accomplices dead as well. There is one surviving security guard but he seems to be suffering from amnesia. As of right now, there is no security footage of the crime as the main power grid and the back-up generator were hijacked during the robbery. There are two suspects as to who it could be.”

You gulped heavily, the suspense killing you.

“The first suspect is Catwoman who frequents jewelry heists and the level of mastery leads many to believe that this handiwork is of the feline femme fatale felon.”

You rolled your eyes at the fluffy wording.

“The second, more surprising, suspicion is not one but two criminals. Police suspect a Bonnie and Clyde copycat situation. There is no eyewitness account to go off of but a man on the street claims to have seen a couple, a man and woman, exiting the premises. Sir, can you tell us what you saw?”

The camera suddenly shifted to footage of what looked like a homeless drug addict. He eyed the camera warily. “Yeah, I saw a man and woman. Looked like they were married. Cute couple if you ask me. From where I was standing, it looked like the husband was carrying his pregnant wife.”

Pregnant? You looked to Digger suddenly. Why on earth… The man thought the bag of jewels was a belly with a bun in the oven! This was perfect! You burst out laughing victoriously. You had never been more thankful for the homeless and reminded yourself to do some community outreach in the following months.

“Thank you, sir. And is there anything else noteworthy to say?”

He turned to the camera dramatically. “I need to take a piss right now.”

You burst out laughing again as the reporter frantically told the camera to switch as the man proceeded to begin working on his pant’s zipper. Grabbing the remote again, you turned the TV off.

Digger just smiled at you mirthfully with a look on his face.

“What?” You questioned with a smile that matched his.

“A couple, huh?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And pregnant?!” He shouted in mock excitement.

“Oh, calm down. You’ll wake the baby,” you teased while giggling.

“I’m not hearing a denial,” he said. You knew that he was only half-joking.

“You’re not getting a ‘yes’ immediately either,” you ushered him to the door.

“What?! Oh, this is just cruel!”

The two of you stood in the doorway of your apartment. “Next Friday at 7. Pick me up. Take me out to dinner then we’ll talk.”

“Maybe a little more,” he asked, waggling his eyebrows playfully. This man…

“Good night, Digger,” You laughed as you began to close the door.

Before you could shut it though, he pushed the door open a little more with his hand. You were a little bewildered until Digger pressed his lips against yours quickly. He pulled away just as fast and gauged your reaction.

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for one more kiss. He enthusiastically kissed back. As you finished the kiss, you half-heartedly pushed him back into the hallway. You broke away with a smile and told him ‘goodnight’ for the second time.

You shut the door and the last thing you saw before closing it was his green eyes.

And you genuinely looked forward to Friday.

#captain boomerang x reader #Captain Boomerang #digger harkness #digger harkness x reader #suicide squad fic #captain boomerang fic #digger harkness fic

[littleladysongbird]

Feeling Slightly Overboard: A Gwenvid Fic

Hey! I’m back from the dead! While I’ve been busy at work with papers and other really cool writing projects, I realized I missed Gwenvid week and decided to write something to make up for it. So, inspired by @zippybot‘s wonderful Gwenvid art for Day 5 & 6, here’s a very short fluffy fic!

(Oh yeah and I don’t own Camp Camp)

-xoxo Diana 

***

It had always been a really bad idea at its core.

After all, despite having free reign over the camp with Campbell off and gone to god-knows where, it was still...inappropriate to be in a public relationship with one another. Technically they were employees of the local government, and inter-department relationships were absolutely out of the question.

But the kids had passed out early and it was way too hot to stay in the cabin and watch a movie. So David and Gwen stole camp supplies and a canoe and literally pitched themselves a date in one of the isolated coves of Lake Lilac.

Camping and late-night canoeing was David’s idea from the get-go,  though he certainly didn’t expect to be taking her out in the middle of camp season. She was determined to make it work, though, and all but physically dragged him out the door in order to enjoy some peace and quiet together outside the confines of screened windows.

And he wanted to.

Lord, he wanted to.

But even two hours in without a single mishap, his stomach was tripled knotted with anxiety, and he wanted nothing less than to be back at the cabin fast asleep on his own cott, even when Gwen was relaxed and happy in the opposite end of the boat.

It had already been a few weeks since they had made the relationship official, and he was still as nervous as he was the first night they had kissed. He tried to chalk it up to the threat of being fired, but deep down, even David knew that there was really no reason to worry about getting discovered.

Mostly because it still felt like they weren’t even a couple.

The initial decision was quickly decided, and despite a consistent pattern subtle flirting and stolen kisses and late-night conversation, there was little to show for them as a couple. For the first time, David had begun to look forward to the end of camp, since it meant he and Gwen could spend time together as a couple. And yet, in the hollow of his chest, the fear of losing her before summer’s end continued to strike him with a sharp, brutal blow. It was frustrating, and despite all his attempts to-

“David?”

He snapped his head up, hair flouncing in the breeze as he focused his gaze back at the woman sitting across from him. She was frowning, slightly biting her bottom lip as she reached out to grab his hand.

“Hey,” she smiled, “you okay? You look super stressed.”

“Nope!” he laughed through a strained smile, “I just...I haven’t been on a proper date in a while, you know?”

“Don’t worry; it’s going great so far.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, giving her hand a squeeze before grasping the paddle in hand to guide them back to shore.

Their temporary campsite was tucked out of the way, hidden from nearly every angle and shaded by small limestone formations and tall pines. It lacked proper starlight and the shoreline was a slightly unforgiving bed of pebbles, but it was a good sanctuary from the outside world.

“So,” Gwen yawned, letting her hand dip into the clear water as the boat floated on the edge of the cove, “how exactly did you find this place?”

“I can’t remember, honestly,” he sighed, leaning back to look up at the rim of the moon, “I think it was during district training; I was taking a summer class at the community college while also doing my training, and I just needed a quiet place to study. As far as I can tell, nobody ever comes over here since it’s kind of rocky and the tide can flood camp if you don’t know where to pitch it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” David sat back up, watching Gwen lazily draw patterns on the cold surface of the lake. For a moment, everything was calm.

Then a tree branch snapped.

Anxiety blew him backwards like a bullet to the face, causing the canoe to dip and toss both Gwen and David into the freezing water.

“Jesus!” Gwen gasped, her entire body turning a stark shade of white as she scrambled to her feet in the freezing water, “what the hell David?”

“I’m sorry!” He choked, “I thought...there was something.”

“Did you see someone?”

“N-no,” he avoided her gaze, pushing the boat onto the shore as quickly as possible, “I just...it scared me. I’m sorry.”

“David-”

“Just, go dry off.” He mumbled, skin burning with humiliation. “There’s some blankets in the tent if you want.”

He braced himself for what she has to say, but she was silent, quietly moving past him and ducking into the tent. David sighed, peeling off his own shirt and trousers and laying them by the fire before sitting by the flames himself. He was the very definition of humiliation: drenched in cold water, red-faced, and wearing nothing but his boxers and make-shift bandanna.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and losing himself to sound of nature until the sharp scratching of a zipper drew his attention.

“You okay?”

David looked over his right shoulder, surprised to find Gwen beside him with a gentle smile on her face. Her hair was down, a blanket draped across her waist to avoid the complete exposure of her undergarments. David turned back towards the fire, dropping his gaze to the ashes that burst before him.

“...I’m sorry, Gwen,” he sighed, “this was supposed to be a fun date.”

“David-”

“But I ruined it.”

He let the words fall into the open, his own heart heavy with self-loathing and doubt. His chance with her had been slim, and he had completely ruined it. He could hear her awkward breathing and apologies in the back of his imagination, and felt tears boiling under his eyes.

“David-”

He shook, breathing sharply as he prepared for the impact of her words.

“No you didn’t.” He blinked, turning to find her gazing up at him, leaning against his shoulder and taking his hand in her own. “I’m having fun.”

David stared at her, turning a vivid shade of pink as her fingers began to trace along his wrist.

“You’re not...mad at me?”

“Come on, David,” she snorted, rolling her eyes and tucking herself under his chin, “I know we haven’t exactly been the most romantic couple with all these little shits running around, but it’s gonna take a lot more than falling out of a boat to get me to actually break up with you.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip, trying to prevent the stupid smile sprouting on his face. “So...you still, like, want to do this with me?”

“Of course you idiot,” Gwen laughed, “it’s been killing me that those little shits won’t shut the fuck up till one am! Why do you think I’ve been so adamant about you sending those fuckers on an eight hour hike to God-knows where?”

David chuckled under his breath, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Thanks, Gwen.”

“No problem, David!” She snorted, locking eyes with him. David dug a little tighter into her ribs, eyes unflinching from her own. He was feeling jumpy and anxious again, but this time it made him feel...good. With a deep breath, he gently pushed her hand a bit farther behind her, hovering over her with a slight hesitation.

“Hey, Gwen?” He blushed. “Can I...kiss you?”

To his surprise, she laughs, leaning in until she nearly brushes her lips on his own.

“Hell yeah!”

Their lips are locked within seconds, his arms winding themselves around her waist as her own hands knotted behind his head. It was a lot...rougher, than what he was used to, but it was by no means bad. He quite liked the feeling of her tongue pressed against his own, weight shifting ever so slightly and heat rising with the friction between their skin.

“G-god,” Gwen moaned, rocking back on his lap ever so slightly to catch her breath, “that’s...that felt good.”

David bit down on his entire bottom lip, trying to ignore the sudden rush of warmth to his hips. But the bulge began to grow, and, to his complete humiliation, she began to snicker.

“You good, David?”

“J-j-just fine,” he gulped, “sorry, I-”

“It’s not a bad thing. That is, unless you don’t…” she looked up, leaning back to support herself on her own arms, “do you...want to?”

“Want to what?”

“You know; do it? With me? You know...right now?”

“Oh.” David froze, slightly flustered and unsure. “I mean, I want to, but I’m not...I haven’t…”

“Oh, well, we don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” David grasped her waist, pulling her back into his arms. “I just...I might not be good at it.”

“David, nobody’s good at it. We just...we do it.”

“Okay.” He nodded, kissing her deeper and deeper until she was sprawled out below him. He smiled at her, sheepish and still slightly nervous.

“Is this okay, Gwen?”

Gwen looked up, trying to keep her eyes focused on his own instead of the discrete trail of freckles that crawled down his body. Sweating slightly, she grinned. 

“Perfect.”

***

(PS: In case you were wondering my other CC fics, reader; yes, I’m still working on Bastard Valley. I have a personal project I need to complete in the next week, but then I will get to work and probably upload chapters 4 and 5 relatively soon)

(PPS: PLEASE FOLLOW @zippybot THEY DESERVE THE BEST!)

#I don't even know #It was just cute art #and I was inspired #diana writes #camp camp #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david

[ambivalentangst]

The Vampire and Keith’s Lasagna

 After disappearing for a a few weeks, I come back and present to you 2k+ words of cute Klance for Halloween. I've been loving all the creating in the Voltron fandom during October, so here’s my contribution to all that. Enjoy, and have a very spooky remainder of your Halloween!

-

When Keith had decided to go to Allura’s art show, he was not expecting to end the night drunk off his ass or to find a vampire eating leftover lasagna in the back of his car. In his defense, when Lotor asked one to go with him to a party, one did not say no. That was simply not how Altea University or the house of Kappa Kappa Gamma operated, and even if Keith did have the lack of self preservation needed where he would tell Lotor to kindly fling himself into the sun, he wasn’t willing to risk upsetting his friend group. Zethrid by herself was clearly a bodybuilder, and Keith doubted it would even be hard for her to crush his head between her thighs. Ezor at the very least was toned (Pidge had her money on her being an acrobat), Acxa could maim someone with a glare, and according to Allura and reluctantly, Shay, Narti’s wings were sharp enough to kill a man. They sat at the top of the dean’s list along with Lotor, who was Allura’s cousin. He wasn’t a bad guy, necessarily. Keith had a certain degree of respect for anyone who could handle a six pack of beer in an hour without passing out or being hospitalized. He was just, ah, how to put it, intense.

   Lotor ruled campus, which turned out to be a lot more difficult in college than all the movies made it out to be. He somehow managed to be in every necessary club or organization, showing up for just enough meetings to be in without being frowned upon, to where it took unprecedented lack of social prowess to not at least have heard Lotor’s name. He had excellent grades too, which was just unfair even to a prodigy who never studied like Keith. At least he couldn’t be seen partying every night of the weekend, then show up bright eyed and bushy tailed on Monday. So, going back to his night on the town and his first meeting with the pasta fiend. It had all started with Allura’s art show.

   Allura was a goddess in human form, and if anyone wanted to argue that point Keith could just direct them to the fact that she dyed her hair white and her roots were constantly flawless. That, and she could breakdance in six inch heels. Like he was saying, a goddess. Even someone whose fashion sense lay solely in flannels and whatever could hide a solid eight blades on his person at any given time like Keith could recognize that. She also happened to be a gifted artist, who Keith would defend with his dying breath because hello, it was Allura. Her color palettes gave him Jesus, which was pretty tough considering Keith was an atheist and resident cynic. Again, Allura.

   Her latest collection had opening night on Halloween, which fit the darker theme she’d been going for in her latest works beautifully. After a delightful dinner, courtesy of Hunk, they’d gone to the gallery. Lotor and the girls were there too, and Allura was obviously delighted to have them. It was all good, and Keith relished the thought that he’d remembered the insulated lunchbox (with an icepack, naturally) he had waiting in the car, stuffed with a very, very large container of lasagna. When weekly dinners with everyone became a norm, they’d all started to invest in some ways to take home leftovers. After the gallery and meal Keith felt fairly socially exhausted, but Lotor had decided to strike.

   He and his squad of terrifying women trapped him, and with that silver tongue of his suddenly Keith found himself at the biggest party of first semester. Kappa Kappa Gamma’s costume party, which Lotor had deigned to miss the beginning of in favor of his cousin. He was a frat boy, but he at least had some loyalty to family. The only thing topping it throughout the school year was New Year’s, but Keith admittedly never really remembered much of that by the time he woke up the next morning. A literal cocktail of bad decisions followed upon his arrival to the party, including but not limited to a bit of a chugging contest with Matt. He’d showed up along the way with the rest of their friend group because when making bad life choices, might as well get everyone involved in the fun. By the time Keith stumbled out of the hot bed of intoxicating substance and horrible music that made him almost let loose his stomach full of way too many different types of alcohol on Nyma’s shoes, he was thoroughly wasted. For anyone’s information, when he found the vampire, he had not been intending to drive home. He knew better, thank you very much. No, his plan had been to pass out in the backseat of his piece of shit car rather than all too sticky floor of that madhouse because really he would rather not relive that experience. Somewhere after his second line of shots he had scrawled that advice on his hand in what could only be understood by someone equally drunk.

   Instead, he found some asshole eating his lasagna.

   “Man, what the fuck?”

   A head of brown hair slowly swiveled his direction, with pupils blown disturbingly wide in the pools of glowing, electric blue that made up his eyes. Keith stared at him accusingly, and at the marinara dripping down his chin that in the dim lighting could only be discerned from blood due to the flecks of oregano hidden in its midst. White fangs flashed in what little illumination was offered by the street lamps, as the thief held out his hands in what appeared to be an attempt at placating Keith.

   “Listen, I’m really sorry, but we all have to eat, right? And, uh, if you didn’t mention this that’d be great so um if I could just slip past-” Keith crawled forward, shoving a finger into the boy’s chest.

   “You. Are. Eating. My. Lasagna.” This was inexcusable. Keith was angry. Very angry. How dare he? He was very excited about that lasagna for a hungover dinner or lunch tomorrow, it would depend on when his steady stream of vomit would subside. The stranger stared at him, those same startling eyes going from the sad last few bites that remained, and then back to Keith. Damn him, Keith thought. He’d been here awhile, then. A long time, and he’d spent that time eating his lasagna. 

   “I mean, do you want the last couple bites?” Keith snatched the tupperware from him, and the fork he also kept in his very nice lunchbox. He aggressively shoved some of the delicious, cheesy and saucy beauty in food form into his mouth. The stranger sighed, looking sad.

   “You’re not even going to have that in your system for a deserving amount of time. And to think I gave the last of the lasagna to someone so obviously trashed. You reek, by the way.” Keith stuck out his tongue, uncaring of the sauce dribbling down his chin as he did so. Screw the vampire. Screw him and his fiendish, pasta devouring ways. 

   “I am not trashed,” he defended himself. His face lit up as he continued. “You know what? You’re trashed. You’re trashed because you’re trash for stealing my lasagna.” The vampire stared, before laughing.

   “Okay pal.” Keith sat, hugging his now empty bowl to his chest, unaware of the stain slowly seeping into his shirt. The vampire sat, smiling while he observed Keith. Keith was equally tranquil for a few moments, before he reached forward and shoved his hand in Lance’s mouth, prying it open while he let the tupperware fall to the floor of the car.

   The vampire gagged, while Keith pushed his head back to better examine it in the street light.

   “So how’d you get these to look so good?” he muttered, poking with quite literally sticky fingers at the fangs he’d seen earlier. The vampire spat, grabbing his wrist to take his hand from his mouth.

   “Don’t do that!” he whined. “You taste like cheap booze and frat house floor,” he complained. Keith did his best to shove his grubby fingers back in the boy’s mouth. The stranger was indignant, though in Keith’s inebriated state he could not for the life of him fathom why.

   “Hold still,” he grumbled. The stranger yelped as Keith finally managed to worm his way back into his mouth to yank on one of the unnaturally sharp canines it contained. Keith frowned when it remained, and fumbled for the tooth again. The stranger this time grabbed both hands, and held them much tighter with a grip to stop Keith, which was impressive considering Keith had kickboxed for the past five years straight.

   “They didn’t move,” Keith told him. The stranger stared, his blue eyes still glowing.

   “No shit.”

   Keith did not respond to that. He stared at the vampire a little while longer.

   “So why didn’t they move?” The boy firstly whacked him, and secondly crossed his arms.

   “Because they’re real, obviously.” Keith was drunk, and drunk Keith did not care to argue with that, as the stranger wiped drool from his mouth with a grimace. He was also not in the state of mind to be harbor properly dubious thoughts about the boy’s claims.

   “Oh, that’s cool. I thought you were gonna’ say you used superglue or something. So why, exactly, are you eating my lasagna at two in the morning?” Keith had not forgotten just who the culprit was in this case scenario, and his eyes narrowed. He was going to stick his gross hands back in his mouth if he ever even thought about touching his leftovers again. The stranger huffed annoyedly.

   “Because, drunk mullet boy, I am not a heathen. Besides, because I’m only a halfie human food fills me up too, even though blood tastes better. Marinara works because it’s still red, but nothing dies except my diet. Tricks my head, and my stomach. It’s a win-win.” The boy smirked, apparently smug. However, he faltered after a moment, and looked to the side. “Plus this is--er, was--really good lasagna.” Keith raised a hand to smack the stranger, who yelped and threw himself to the floor to dodge.

   “I’m aware,” he seethed, glaring viciously. Lance laughed nervously, and put his hands up defensively.

   “Look, sorry about your pasta. Really, my bad. How about I drive you home to make up for it?” Keith thought about it for a moment. The vampire was offering a deal that sounded very good because when didn’t his bed sound good, but he was also the asshole who ate his very delicious lasagna and Keith just wasn’t sure he could trust someone that would do something like that. In the end, a vague sense of logic that told him when he woke up tomorrow he’d really rather be somewhere with a trashcan won out, and so he handed the vampire his keys.

   “Make it quick,” he grumbled, words slurring together. The vampire grinned.

   “Excellent. I, your humble escort, will have you home in no time at all.” 

   The two of them clambered into their respective seats in the front of the car, and the vampire revved up the engine. Keith, from his position with crossed arms and his head largely buried underneath his sweatshirt, slurred directions out. The vampire hummed as he drove, and as the car puttered politely at a red light the vampire looked to Keith, still with those eyes that glowed in the dark.

   “So, mullet boy, what’s your name?” Keith, who was not sober enough to realize giving personal information out to a stranger was a bad idea, responded with about as much enthusiasm as he was giving directions with.

   “Keith. Don’t call me mullet boy. It’s rude. You’re rude. What’s your name, rude lasagna thief?” The vampire laughed, before curling a lip and snarling a quick stream of profanity at another driver from behind ivory fangs.

   “Lance,” he told him when he settled down again. He hummed quietly, blowing past a stop sign after doing a quick once over for cops. “Gotta’ wonder if you’ll remember that in the morning. Probably not. I know the stench of tequila, and you smell like three nights of bad decisions rolled into one with a dash of bad fashion sense for good luck.” Keith scoffed.

   “I made perfectly good,” a hiccup interrupted him for a moment, “decisions.” Lance didn’t respond to that, and flashed a twenty four karat smile as he pulled into Keith’s parking spot.

   “And we’re here! Come on, Keith. Let’s get you home.” Despite Keith’s complaints as he made him ride piggy back, he got him up the stairs to his apartment and into his bed with a glass of water and a lined trash can nearby. Keith stared blearily at him from his pillow, his vision already blurring with exhaustion.

   “You are a rude perpetrator of pasta debauchery. Chef Boyardee is disappointed in you.” Lance laughed, flashing those sharply filed pearly whites again.

   “Whatever you say, mullet. See you later, Keith. Thanks for dinner!” Keith did not even have time to fire back something to express his indignance at his statement before Lance had disappeared, and he was out like a light.

   The next day was spent nursing an excruciating hangover, and lurking around his apartment in a huddle of blankets and pure hatred. He didn’t remember much from the night before, like the name of the stranger who had brought him back home or where his lasagna went. He was thinking about crafting an official conspiracy theory on it, but he needed Pidge for that and she wasn’t much better off than he was at the moment. Shiro scolded him a little, but nobody in their friend group had made it out of that party alive and well. He lost motivation pretty quickly, and went to go take some Advil. Keith didn’t even have a number in his phone to commemorate the flashes of electric blue eyes that lined his memory. Sad, but the loss of the cute boy that showed up Halloween night was forgotten under the mountain of work that slowly crept up on him again. It was not until several weeks later that he came to mind again, on dinner night at Keith and Shiro’s place. Hunk had just pulled his infamous lasagna from the oven to the mutual delight of their friends, when Keith heard a knock at the door. He sighed, but went to get it since everyone else was already seated. Upon opening the door, however, he was greeted with quite the surprise.

   “Mullet boy!” A boy at the door exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide. Keith stared, a montage of memories forgotten from that night playing behind his eyes. Coupled with the smell of dinner wafting comfortingly from the kitchen, Keith’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

   “You!” he shouted, tackling Lance to the ground in the hallway. There was a scraping of chairs on the floor, as his friends rose to see the source of the commotion. They found Keith sitting on top of a lanky, tan boy, who smiled and laughed.

   “Good to see you too,” he greeted. He waved at the crowd gathered in the doorway. “Hey! I’m Lance. I heard it was lasagna night.” Keith grabbed Lance by the lapels of his shirt, bringing their faces close together.

   “You stole my leftovers.” Lance smiled a little sheepishly, to his credit.

   “Yeah, guilty as charged. It was delicious, and you arrived in time to very angrily eat the last few bites, so I am not a complete monster. Besides, afterwards I drove you home and got you in bed, even though you were really against the whole concept of a piggyback ride. So there. Anyways, can I come in?” Keith stared down at him distrustfully, noting the fine details of Lance’s toothy grin. It didn’t come as a complete surprise, but they’d talk about that later. He reluctantly climbed off of him, offering a hand.

   “Come on, thief.” Lance laughed, and walked inside while waving to Keith’s friends with his free hand.

   “Thanks, mullet.” 

         In the end Keith may have been down some lasagna, but who ever said Halloween or vampires ran smoothly?

#klance #voltron halloween #lance voltron #keith voltron #voltron legendary defender #just some light hearted spooky banter for the season #Lotor is a frat boy and I just slapped a random fraternity name up there for the story #Keith is a drunk mess #also a little bit of caretaker Lance because Keith is trashed #Keith loves his lasagna #ambivalentlangst

[perfectly-wasted-youthhh]

lol binch if I did it you do too, 1-100

lmaoooo spiteful, but whatevs, also mine are gonna be more boring sorry.

1: Is there a boy/girl in your life? Nope! 

2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

Yes in the sense that they’re in my life and I love them but I guess not fully in the sense that I’ll still feel upset sometimes. 

3: What do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

I think of cats. Like what

4: What’s something you really want right now?

To be comfy with my body so I don’t have to stress about it over the summer

5: Are you afraid of falling in love?

No, I’m more afraid of not falling in love (sorry for how fake deep that sounds but for real)

6: Do you like the beach?

Very much, it will be my main habitat over the summer hopefully

7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

Yes, at like sleepovers, with their feet in my face. Romantic haha

8: What’s the background on your cell?

Amber, it makes me homesick but I like it anyways

9: Name the last four beds you were sat on?

Mine in college, mine at home, Tu’s, and emme’s

10: Do you like your phone?

I’m very indifferent about it

11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned?

No not really, I’m very okay with it but sometimes I feel like more is expected from me and it stresses me out. 

12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

My chemistry lab partner sophie’s

13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?

Neither are my fav breed but I knew a really friendly cute rottweiler when i was a kid so that probably

14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

As someone who is overly emotional I’d say emotional pain but I’ve never been through a physical pain that has lasted beyond a dull ache.

15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

I’ve never been to an art museum so I’d love to go to one for the experience but a zoo is a guaranteed good time

 16: Are you tired?

Mentally yes, but I can’t physically fall asleep haha

17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact?

Alex Raydan, I’ve known him since 1st grade

18: Are they a relative?

Nope

19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

Nah

20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

tonight

21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

I don’t think it would be necessary, but if you could guarantee they were the person I’d want to be with all my life, then yeah I suppose 

22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Maybe in the right context

23: How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

I have one hair tie on each wrist for balance, does that count

24: Is there a certain quote you live by?

“Don’t get mad. Don’t get even. Do better. Much better. Become so engulfed in your own success you forget it ever happened.” lmao literally just a quote I found on tumblr but I like it a lot and it makes me feel stronger so 

25: What’s on your mind?

u kno I’m plannin my summer aesthetic 24/7

26: Do you have any tattoos?

No, hoping to get some soon

27: What is your favorite color?

Deep green

28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

I have no idea haha, hopefully over the summer but no guarantees lmao

29: Who are you texting?

No one at the moment

30: Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

yes

31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

yes

32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

yes, i feel pretty comfy talking to michael, darious and zany. Gettin more comfy with vincent and tu now as well

33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you?

Not particularly

34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

Yes, it’s always very appreciated

35: Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

I’d be pretty weirded out and wish they would stop lmao

36: Were you single on Valentines Day?

Yessss

37: Are you friends with the last person you kissed?

Yes, i am

38: What do your friends call you?

Binch, dude, bb, bbygirl, aside from the typical just Nikki

39: Has anyone upset you in the last week?

Yes, but my bar for getting upset is pretty low oops

40: Have you ever cried over a text?

Yeah haha I have most of my serious conversations over text cuz I’m a lil bitch

41: Where’s your last bruise located?

Right in the center of my chest

42: What is it from?

Bra was too tight and pressed into my chest

43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

Physics lecture last Tuesday when I was running on 3 hrs of sleep

44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

My mom

45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

Yep, white sneakers

46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

No I look considerably worse in hats

47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style?

Probably not I like my hair a lot

48: Do you make supper for your family?

No but my mom deserves it lol so I should try

49: Does your bedroom have a door?

Yes haha

50: Top 3 web-pages?

tumblr, netflix, hulu

51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping?

my mom and dad both hate it

52: Does anything on your body hurt?

Yeah I worked out yesterday so my thighs and stomach hurt

53: Are goodbyes hard for you?

Extremely, I always build them up in my head so I’m always a little underwhelmed and unsatisfied when I leave

54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

water

55: How is your hair?

It’s okay, I really need to get it cut, it’s lacking any style lmao

56: What do you usually do first in the morning?

Brushing my teeth is always first

57: Do you think two people can last forever?

Yeah I think so, but I think it involves a lot of compromise and effort

58: Think back to January 2007, were you single? hahaha yes

59: Green or purple grapes? purple for sure, the darker the better

60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?

Probably june 15th when I say goodbye to my roommates for the summer 

61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

Yes, I wish I were home

62: When will be the next time you text someone?

Probably tomorrow afternoon

63: Where will you be 5 hours from now?

Sleppin

64: What were you doing at 8 this morning.

Sleppin

65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked?

Kyle 

66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

Tommy melts my heart he’s precious, same with Charlotte

67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today?

no kissing, and I’m pretty sure no hugging either

68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

lmao “why is no one responding to me”

69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

Yes maybe once or twice, but usually I’ve gotten what I’ve wanted out of situations so go me

70: How many windows are open on your computer?

4

71: How many fingers do you have?

all of them thankfully

72: What is your ringtone?

the default

73: How old will you be in 5 months?

Still 19 haha

74: Where is your Mum right now?

In vista CA no one try to find her and kill her pls

75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

Just wasn’t right I guess

76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

No I have not

77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

Yes!

78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

Brody Barnhill

79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?

Pipe down Mike

80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

Nooope

81: How many people have you liked in the past three months?

I have very fleeting interests in college, but people I’ve liked for more than a few days would be zero haha

82: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

Emme and tracy are constantly seeing me in my underwear

83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

Nope

84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

Kelsey and Amber probably and both of them are telling me to fucking stop

85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?

Yeah, if it was habitual use

86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

I almost wasn’t allowed to see Baywatch because I didn’t think it was rated R and apparently I do not look 17 and my college ID wasn’t proof enough that I was at least 18 lmao

87: Who was your last received call from?

Me mum

88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

Yes

89: What is something you wish you had more of?

Money and motivation lmao

90: Have you ever trusted someone too much?

Perhaps, but it’s never been to much of an issue, just embarrassing for me sometimes

91: Do you sleep with your window open?

Yes it gets very hot in this room

92: Do you get along with girls?

Pretty much 100% of the time

93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

Nope

94: Does sex mean love?

Nope 

95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

Nah, maybe a little boring after a while but that’s all

96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

No, I don’t know how I’d feel about it, I feel like I’d be afraid of pulling it somehow

97: Did you sleep alone this week?

All the time haha

98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

Yes, I do haha

99: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Not particularly, it sounds nice tho

100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise?

I think emme, she likes that kind of stuff 

Hope this made you feel better Michael lmao

[collectingpersonasforfun]

A simple note

I stare at the door to my room. Fake oak and the shade of sadness. How ironic. I begin to open it and the smell of my cologne envelops me. It’s a sorry attempt at the past trying to distract me from the present. The carpet is worn down and discolored. It reminds me of this afternoon. It reminds of disappointment and hate. it reminds me of a flawed dream I allowed myself to become convinced by.

Your kind words and smiles all a simple trick.

We had met in a library. Can I even say we met?

I was reading a book. I vaguely remember it was about a boy trapped in a underground bunker. I’m not sure why. I think he was kidnapped and he was locked there. 

As I was reading there would always be a small detail at the corner of my eye.That detail would be you. I’d been watching you from afar for a long time. It wasn’t some creepy stalker situation. It was weird really. I wouldn’t follow you home or take pictures of you to send my friends. Instead I just “stared” in the most stupid definition of the word. It was certainly something. Seeing the curve in your mouth as you wrote. Your eyes examining every small trace of ink on the page making sure perfection was achieved. Don’t ask how I know. I just do.

Once our eyes met. We didn’t turn away from each other. We just allowed ourselves to experience the art of it all. Examining each others features. How you had a small trace of pimples where your hair fell. Lightly touching your forehead in the same manner I wished my own fingers could. How your eyes were dark enough to keep me guessing whether they were just black or a really dark shade of brown. I wondered what those eyes had seen and if the stories could live up to the image. 

I in the other hand had nothing to be seen. I was simple, imperfect. Completely uninteresting. I lacked any sort of feature that could call your attention. I wasn’t strong or attractive. My teeth were such an irritating shade of yellow that was on the verge of being white; I had spent hours examining and brushing my teeth vigorously. I had weird pimples on my nose I could never get rid of no matter what I did. I had bought 3 different brands of pimple creams. None of them worked. Yet still there you were staring directly at me. 

Could you see the lines of tears?

Did you see me in fetal position? Yearning for something I could never have

Could you hear how I gasped when I tried to speak, but the pain was too much?

No, you clearly didn’t.

It’s a Tuesday. Any other day of the week. I have conditioned myself to make my way directly to the library once the lunch period begins. As I am walking I begin to lose my place in time. Completely falling to my own thoughts. Thoughts of you. I can see you sleepily looking at me saying words such as “The dog wants to come into bed” or “Your eye is doing the thing again” It’s all covered in your existence. I don’t want it to end. The smell of coffee in a warm afternoon. Your arms around me as we hum softly to a melody I don’t remember. As i continue to let my imagination wander I am horribly pulled from that reality.

I trip and hit my head on the floor. A sharp pain runs from the front of my head to back of my ears. It hurts, but it’s nothing too brutal. I then realize a sound.

Footsteps. Loud ones. They’re coming in my direction.

“Hey! Don’t go hurting yourself.” I didn’t “I was supposed to see you over at the corner, but-” You suddenly drop me. Typical. I see you wince. “Shit. I just told you that. Fuck. I swear I’m not. Here” You give me a slip of paper and run off as soon as it reaches me. I can’t help but mention your eyes were the only part of you that would never lie to me.

Once I was home I read the slip of paper. I had kept it in my pocket fearing it was some type of hate letter or some sick trick. It had been burning a hole into my leg. I somehow always knew what it would be. It was a web address. A blog with a single post on it. Nothing else. It was dated to just a couple hours ago.

My dearest, Library boy

I’m so sorry for doing it this way. I probably gave it to you days after I wrote it. Just so you know I wrote this in the 7th.

Today was the tenth

Well let me get to the point of this letter in a better fashion. The day I was you walk through the door I immediately knew who you were. Your name is Argus. Your last name doesn’t matter. Your brown eyes confident. Your walk boasting yet shy. Your smile kind and warm yet hiding secrets.

So that’s what he saw in me?

Your personality consisting of words hard to define. Your treatment of others reflecting how you wish you could be treated. Taking the abused into your arms in order to give them a home. Bringing the afraid into your life in order to fight for them even if you are afraid as well. Loving someone even if you don’t know who they are. The only reason being you know them somehow.

I don’t think I would say love. Yet here I am continuing to read this cryptic letter. A letter that makes no sense to me. A letter that makes me feel full of life and hopeful.

Each time you tried to steal a look I knew what you were up to. You’re not exactly the definition of discreet. That's one word that doesn’t live inside you. 

Want to know something? That book you were reading about the boy in the bunker. Well, the boy dies. He dies protecting the other prisoners. The prisoners he has gotten to know not by labels, but by who they are. They never got to escape that underground cave. They were in their grave the moment they tried to escape life. Only to be kidnapped and placed there by a psychopathic killer. The boy lunged himself at the killer when he decided to kill the others. He was murdered in a simple swipe of the wrist. I thought it was poetic. Dying with love. Sacrificing yourself in order to allow your loved ones to live for another second. Not being able to bear seeing them die so you die instead. You’ve grown too afraid to see them in pain because they’ve always been the strong one

I’m crying?

want to know something else?

When you talk you not only seem happy, but you’re brimming with light. All the shadows around you retreat into the demonic hell they come from when you’re there. 

It’s funny how I know more about you than you’ll ever consciously know about me. I don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to after finishing the letter.

Want another secret?

I don’t think I do. Yet I continue. I continue because these words were written with a purpose in mind. That purpose was for me to read them.

When you grow tired you slowly push against my chest. First it’s your head in order to find a comfortable spot. Your hair tickling my neck. Then it’s your arms holding me. Holding me like I’ll be lost in the few seconds that approach. Then the whole rest of you as we finally lay down to rest together. You fully trust me.

No those weren’t dreams.

They were reality.

Argus.

The thauma is after me

The screen looks like it’s covered in tears.

I don’t have long

This will probably be the last you hear from me

I love you

I will continue to love you for the number of eternities we lived together

I’m sorry

You remember none of it, but it’s better this way

Please stay safe

If you ever see me after reading this

RUN

Don’t look back

That isn’t me and it never will be.

The sunsets and nights together will never happen again.

I still remember the day we confessed our love to each other. We feared the world would hate us. We feared that we would never be able to live together. We feared that two boys could never share their lives. So we decided we would live as an unending story. We ran across time lines trying to live as many lives together as we could. I still remember how when your lips brushed against mine for the first time. You slowly said “I love you” I will never forget it. Not even when that Thauma erase me from existence. Just know that you were my beginning, my end and my very reason for existing.

I love you

Sincerely,

He never left his name

He never gave me a chance to know him

I could remember years of words, looks, smiles and love itself.

Yet I would never know who he truly was. All I knew him by was an image. I wanted so much more than that

The next day I saw “him”

He waved

I didn’t run. I waved.

#a #simple #note #writing #Argus #lost #love #gay #story #project