#eighteen years of life and i have never seen an ocean

[canonically-a-genloser]

i love having friends who have seen oceans. my love language once i find that out is just asking so many questions about it i wanna see an ocean so bad

#eighteen years of life and i have never seen an ocean

[ginnsbaker]

Maybe You Were The Ocean

Summary: Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life.

Word count: 6.3k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Character Death, Bittersweet ending

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by @gingiesworld:

Y/N and Wanda have been together for a while and Pietro calls Y/N one night, needing a lift home from a friends party. On that night they get hit by another drunk driver and Pietro dies on impact. As time goes on and the other driver is arrested, y/n still blames themselves for Pietro's death. Even though Wanda continuously tries to tell them otherwise but they won't listen. They then yell at her "why don't you blame me? You should hate me for your brother dying." Before walking out. Can be either a happy or sad ending buddy. Whichever you decide

Author's note: I changed some minor details in the request, hope you don't mind Gingie. Thank you for this gut-wrenching monster, it allowed me to practice writing in past tense (so out of my comfort zone lol). Title is from "black flies" by ben howard, listen to that as well when you read ;)

Masterlist

-

Now

You haven't been to something like this in what seems like ages.

That something being a wedding.

And if you were to keep count, you'd realize you've been to more funerals than weddings in your lifetime so far.

Your best friend looks like a goddess in her white dress—and anyone with eyes can see that the groom is the luckiest man on earth.

You’re fixing your hair in front of the mirror when she approaches, wearing a smile that you’ve never seen on her, a smile you’d never be able to put on her lips yourself. It’s a smile reserved for him—that lucky bastard.

She gently taps on your shoulder. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep looking so stunning,” she teases, her voice light with laughter.

You chuckle, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “It's your day, and nothing can overshadow how beautiful you look.”

“Promise me something,” she says suddenly, her bright eyes locking onto yours.

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Promise me that you won’t stop looking for this kind of happiness. Promise me you'll find someone who puts that same smile on your face,” she whispers.

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere between heartache and hope. “I promise.”

Then

You were eight years old when you moved to a new neighborhood.

At that age, it felt like the scariest thing that had ever happened to you. Your parents divorced, your mother got full custody, and once the judge made that call, she packed up everything familiar and moved you to a new state: New Jersey.

It was what she could manage back then. This place was nothing like the spacious suburbs you remembered, and your new apartment building seemed no bigger than your old living room back in California. The place had just one bedroom, and it was hard to tell where the dining area stopped and the kitchen started.

You resented her in the way a child might, not fully grasping responsibility or consequences. You were upset she took you away from your friends and the comfort of your old life. You didn’t see back then the bruises hidden beneath her shirt, the ones your father left. You only learned about them when you turned eighteen. By then, your resentment had faded long ago.

A week after moving into that aged building, you encountered the twins next door, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Initially, you met Pietro when his mother sent him over with some food to welcome you and your mom to the neighborhood. It wasn't until you and Pietro became inseparable friends, spending every possible moment together, that you met Wanda.

When you did meet her, you weren't fond of her. She seemed aloof and mostly kept to herself. Unlike her expressive brother, Wanda seldom voiced her thoughts, making conversations with her feel uninspiring. 

You and Pietro often clashed with Wanda over the television. You both wanted to play video games while Wanda preferred her sitcoms. Pietro would let Wanda watch her shows briefly before forcefully switching channels just to annoy her. Eventually, Wanda would retreat to her room in tears, and Pietro would steel himself for a reprimand when their mother returned home.

You would give Wanda a piece of chocolate because you felt bad, but you never asked Pietro to stop, fearing he might stop being your best friend. In return, Wanda would lend you her pocketbooks you’d never quite finish.

You hadn't realized it back then, but that dynamic would continue well into your teen years. With Pietro stirring up trouble left and right, you being caught in the middle, and Wanda, from a distance, observing you with cautious interest—perhaps wishing it had been her who brought the welcoming food instead of her brother.

Now

The wedding isn’t going to start for another hour. There have been delays due to the weather.

With the archways and open corridors adorned with blooming flowers and drapes, the venue looks nothing short of magical, even with the looming clouds. From where you stand, you extend your arm, letting the light drizzle kiss your skin. Each droplet feels like nature's way of playing with the day's emotions—adding both melancholy and charm.

Someone nearby remarks, “You know it's considered good luck when it rains on one's wedding day.”

You merely smile politely in response.

“Are you a friend of the bride’s or the groom's?”

“The bride,” you reply.

“Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can convince her to finally see she’s way out of his league!”

You shake your head at the joke. It’s not even the first time you've heard it today.

Then

It wasn't until you were fifteen and Pietro, seventeen, that the troubles you found yourselves in became more serious. 

It had also been a few months since Pietro introduced you to drugs other than weed. At first, it was just an occasional joint passed around at a party or behind the school building. But Pietro wanted to try riskier substances. You weren't as keen but didn't want to be left behind by your best friend.

One evening, after trying something a bit harder than usual, you and Pietro were wandering the streets, laughing way too loud. In his intoxicated state, Pietro suddenly swung at a parked car with his bat, smashing it. Almost immediately, patrol lights shone bright, and stern police voices could be heard from almost everywhere. Pietro got cornered, but sheer panic made you bolt. Ditching your best friend felt terrible, but the terrifying thought of jail—especially knowing the mess it'd be for your already stretched-thin mom—made you keep running.

Still shaken, you made your way to Pietro's apartment, knowing you had to be the one to tell his mother. Her reaction was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. She demanded you stay with Wanda while she went to confront the nightmare at the police station.

“I think I'll just head home,” you murmured to Wanda, not wanting to impose any further.

She glanced at you, her eyes searching. “Have you had dinner?”

You hesitated, then lied. “Yeah, I ate earlier.” The truth was your mom had been away for work for three days, and the fridge was almost bare. 

The small home you came to know felt overwhelmingly spacious as you sat alone, burdened by the guilt of having left your best friend behind. But mere minutes after sinking into your worn-out couch, a knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Wanda, a bowl of steaming paprikash in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Your face lit up in relief at the sight of the food, more grateful than you could express. Just as you were about to thank her, your stomach betrayed you with an embarrassingly loud growl. Wanda let out a genuine laugh, and for a brief moment, you felt like a burden had been lifted.

“Guess I was right,” she teased, handing you the bowl.

As you eagerly began eating, Wanda settled opposite you, her expression growing serious again. “What were you two even thinking tonight?” she asked softly.

Swallowing, you sighed, “I tried to stop him, Wanda. But I couldn't talk him out of it.” 

Wanda looked down, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch. “I don't blame you,” she finally said, her voice gentle, “I never do. In fact, I sometimes wonder how much worse he might've been without you around.”

A moment of silence hung between the two of you before Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you, “I'm so worried about next year.”

Curiously, you looked up from your food, "What do you mean?"

“Pietro's turning eighteen. He was supposed to get a baseball scholarship, but with this run in with the police, that’s probably hanging in the balance now…” she trailed off.

Your heart sank. You had known Pietro had big dreams tied to that scholarship, dreams that now seemed to be teetering on the brink. "And what about you, Wanda? What's your plan?"

Wanda took a deep breath, and her face lit up slightly, “I got accepted into Columbia. It's amazing, really. But…” She sighed, looking down, “Even with the scholarship they offered, I can't afford it. Plus, with everything going on, I think I need to be here, help Mom out, you know?”

“That's tough,” you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness for the bright future she might be putting on hold.

She nodded, “I'm thinking of starting work and maybe attending community college for a bit. It's not Columbia, but it's something.”

“That's... that's just unfair,” you whispered, setting down your bowl, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “If there's anyone who deserves to be at Columbia, Wanda, it's you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes filled with something you didn’t recognize.

“I wish things were different,” you continued. “I've always thought of you as one of the most intelligent people I know. And not just smart, but kind... genuinely kind.”

She took in your words, the distance between you two closing slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a flash of resolve, she inched closer. “There's something I want to do,” she began, her voice a whisper. “Something I've wanted for a long time, but it never seemed right. I don't think there'll be another perfect moment, another chance. Not after tonight.”

Before you could process her words, she was leaning in, the space between you disappearing. Your eyelids dropped, and for a heartbeat, everything else melted away as her lips met yours.

For the longest time, nothing made sense to you. That was, until Wanda Maximoff kissed you.

Now

Your best friend's walk down the aisle feels like the longest part of the ceremony–at least to you. The sight is so magical that time seems to stand still. When you snap back to reality, the priest is asking if there's anyone in the crowd who wishes to object to the marriage.

Nobody breaks the silence which lasts a mere two seconds. It's a rarity these days for anyone to object. They only happen now in movies. Modern weddings are more intimate, almost closed-door affairs. The guest list is meticulously curated, ensuring anyone with a complex history with the bride or groom remains absent.

You watch the ceremony unfold, every word, every shared glance, making you feel more trapped by the promise you made earlier. You'd promised to chase that very kind of happiness, the kind that was unfolding right in front of you. Yet as you watch, there's this nagging feeling at the back of your mind, asking if you ever really will.

What they have feels like a world apart from where you're seated. 

You try to be genuinely happy for your best friend, and on many levels, you are. But you–you’re the last person to believe you deserve even a fraction of such a miracle.

Then

The kiss, as Wanda had promised, never happened again.

At least not for the duration they remained neighbors. Soon after, she and Pietro moved to another town for their studies. As for you, you and your mother also moved shortly after their departure, to a nicer neighborhood that’s closer to Manhattan where you also transferred schools.

For five years, you didn't see either of them. No calls. Nothing on social media. But that didn't stop them from occasionally drifting into your thoughts. Especially that memory of your first kiss.

That was until one night, while dining alone in a midscale Soho restaurant, you looked up to find Wanda as your server.

She wore a simple black uniform that most servers donned, but she carried it with an elegance that made her stand out. For a moment, you thought she didn't recognize you, as she professionally presented the menu and described the evening's specials without missing a beat. But then, as she was turning to leave your table, she paused and looked directly into your eyes.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her voice becoming more familiar as she shed her professional facade.

You nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah, it really has. I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. I... well, I needed a job while I finish my degree.”

You both chatted briefly, catching up on lost time, but Wanda was called away to attend to other patrons. As she bustled about, you found it difficult to focus on your meal, your gaze repeatedly drawn to her fluid movements around the room.  Every so often, your eyes would meet, and she'd offer a fleeting smile, a touch of color rising to her cheeks.

After a while, you signaled for the check. Wanda was quick to bring it over, her fingers brushing against yours as she handed it to you.

“How's Pietro?” you asked tentatively.

Wanda hesitated, her eyes betraying her composure. “He was released from prison about a month ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “It was tough, but he's doing better now. Trying to change, you know? And he... he misses you.”

Baseball never happened for him. College too. You wished you hadn’t lost your connection together. Perhaps you could have made a difference.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured. “Life just... took over.”

Wanda nodded with understanding, but remained silent.

As you prepared to leave, Wanda slipped a note along with your bill. It read, “It was good to see you again. Maybe we shouldn't wait another five years?”

Beneath these words, Wanda had also written down her phone number.

-

You waited a total of three days to call Wanda.

Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been with other women since she stole your first kiss, but she remained a persistent afterthought in every relationship of yours that ended. 

It didn't help that you'd left a bookmark in her chapter, aware that revisiting it had the potential to alter the trajectory of everything.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would recognize your voice after all these years, “From the restaurant, the other night?”

There was a brief pause, then her tone softened, “I hoped you'd call.”

You were grinning so hard that it didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t responded to her in a while when she gently teased, “Took you long enough.”

“Three days isn’t that long,” you defended with a slight chuckle.

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, no. But in the context of us? It felt like an eternity,” she admitted.

And it truly felt that way. Finding Wanda over the past several years hadn't been impossible or even especially hard. Yet, both of you had consciously let things drift. You had navigated through college, and Wanda, well, she'd been engaged in whatever endeavors she had pursued.

But that night, it felt right to call her. And you hadn’t realized you were waiting to find her again.

You and Wanda scheduled to meet some time during the week and the conversation should’ve ended there. But neither of you wanted to hang up, and Wanda quickly asked about your college experience and the new neighborhood you'd settled into after their departure. By the time you both ended the call, nearly two hours had passed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was evident; the bookmark you'd placed hadn't lost its page and it was easy to ease once more into its pages.

Now

The sun has set when the newly-wedded couple finally arrives at the reception.

You're seated at a table filled with strangers, but your best friend made sure to place you next to a woman she's been raving about—one she's suggested more than once you should date.

Her name is Natasha and she’s gorgeous beyond words. She's so striking that you find yourself wondering if she's even your type. Typically, you've steered clear of people who seem universally more attractive than you, a defense mechanism to sidestep lingering insecurities from over the years.

But as she leans into your personal space, you can’t help but respond to every question and laugh at every joke she throws your way.

Maybe it’s safe to let yourself enjoy this, even just for tonight.

Then

It was scarcely two weeks since that encounter with Wanda at the restaurant, and there you were, in her bed.

It was cramped and the air conditioning kept failing many times during the day. 

But you didn’t care. 

You had known this woman for almost your entire life, and you'd waited just as long to be in her bed like this: with your arm growing numb under her weight, her head resting on your chest, and your nose buried in her hair.

She stirred slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Did you ever think...?” she began, voice hesitant.

“Think what?” you prompted, adjusting slightly so you could see her face.

“That we'd end up here, like this?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled, thinking back. “I don't know if I let myself think about it. But I hoped.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I had a feeling you'd say that.”

The sheets beneath you were thin and had seen better days, but it didn't matter. The world outside, with its faint hum of city life, seemed so far away. Yet, the world outside seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was the rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours and the warmth of her body next to you.

Every so often, she'd shift, mumbling half-formed sentences that would make you chuckle.

“Is the penguin wearing a bowtie?” she murmured in her half-asleep state.

You laughed softly. “What penguin?”

“The one in my dream,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you. “He's quite the gentleman.”

“Sounds like a classy penguin,” you teased.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “He reminds me of you, in a way.”

“Oh? So, I'm a penguin now?” you quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“In the best way,” she whispered, pulling you closer. “My dapper penguin.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only you would dream of something like that.”

“And only you,” she murmured, lips against your chest, “Would be there in that dream with me.”

-

While Wanda seamlessly reintegrated into your life, with Pietro, however, things weren't as straightforward. His past, speckled with run-ins with the law and a battle against addiction, made you and Wanda wary of him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You could tell he was on the mend though, especially when six months into your relationship with Wanda, Pietro was able to hold a job for that same duration. Yet, his living situation with Wanda was far from ideal. Their apartment was snug, to say the least. His room was barely big enough to fit his bed. 

You wished you could help, but with college expenses looming over you, your hands were tied. The thought of asking Wanda to move in with you played on your mind constantly. It seemed like the ideal solution: she would have a more stable environment, and Pietro could fully occupy the apartment, giving him some semblance of independence.

“What do you think about moving in with me? I know it's soon, but…” you asked her one night in the quiet confines of your dorm room.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to live here with you,” Wanda said, a bit amused at your suggestion.

“I didn’t mean here,” you replied. “I meant finding an apartment for the two of us.”

“That’s just adding more expenses, Y/N. I can’t let you do that when you can stay here without any costs,” Wanda countered.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It's not about the money, Wands. It's about... us. Having a place of our own. And it would also give Pietro the whole apartment.”

Wanda's eyes met yours, searching for a hidden meaning. “Are you saying that because of Pietro? You think he's a burden?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it's not that. I just... I see how much you worry about him.”

Your fingers found hers, lacing together as you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I get it,” you began, exhaling softly, “But I thought about Pietro too. He’d have the apartment all to himself. More space, more independence.”

Wanda's eyebrows knit together in concern. “And what if he…” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “Relapses or needs me?”

You tightened your grip around her hand. “We wouldn't be too far, Wanda. And maybe giving him that space and trust will help him more than you think.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you're thinking of what's best for all of us, but Pietro's situation has always been so... fragile.”

Wanda looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. “I'll think about it,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me,” Wanda said, her eyes hardening, like she’s on the verge of tears or something worse. “Promise you’ll be with me always.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

Now

“It’s not everyday you find the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.”

Short and sweet, but that's your whole speech, cliches and all.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” you start, nodding towards the newlyweds with a smirk. “But hey, miracles happen.” You raise your champagne glass. “To two people who finally figured it out. Cheers.”

Your best friend laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately at you. “Trust you to keep things real,” she murmurs, clinking her glass with yours.

And that’s when you see her, amongst the cheering crowds.

In the middle of all the people, she stands out. Always has. It doesn't matter where or when, you can always spot her. Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does. It's like everyone else fades a bit, and she's the only one in focus.

Wanda Maximoff. 

Pristine in a scarlet trumpet gown, her hair pulled into a tight, strict bun. A few stray tendrils of hair have escaped the bun, framing her face in a way that gives her an almost ethereal quality.

As you take a moment to really look at her, you notice the fine details. The way the light catches the small diamond earrings she wears, making them shimmer just so. The delicate curve of her collarbone, revealed by the gown's off-the-shoulder design. And her eyes—always her captivating eyes–that hold an entire galaxy, scanning the room until they land on you.

The shock in her eyes mirrors yours, and for a moment, everything else blurs. Your legs wobble, threatening to give way beneath you. The room's atmosphere grows thick, or perhaps you're just struggling to catch your breath.

Beside you, the bride and your best friend, Maria, notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to its source. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You manage a shaky head shake in response, pushing through the crowd to escape the room. But you can hear Maria, not too far behind, calling after you.

Then

“So, Maria,” Wanda began once your friend had left and it was just the two of you in the cafe. You had been so keen for the two of them to meet. But with Maria spending a whole semester in Germany as an exchange student, their only prior meeting had been a brief video call that interrupted one of your dates with Wanda.

“How did you two get so close?”

“Did I never tell you about that?”

Wanda shook her head, taking a sip from her now lukewarm cappuccino.

“Freshman year. We were looking for this book and it only had one copy in the school library, and believe it or not, we reached for it at the same time,” you recounted with a wistful smile.

Wanda's face shifted ever so slightly, a change you didn't quite catch.

“We both really needed it badly, so we promised to take turns using it, and we ended up studying together for weeks.”

“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Wanda mused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“It kind of felt like that,” you admitted, laughing softly. “From bickering about who would get the book on Mondays to sharing our notes and coffee breaks. Before we knew it, we were inseparable.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes flitting restlessly around you.

“What is it?”

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing.”

You frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to see past her facade. “Wands, come on,” you coaxed. “Talk to me.”

She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “It's just... it's hard sometimes, hearing about these memories you shared with someone else, when I wish I had been there with you.”

“Wanda,” you began gently, “There are moments in your past that I wasn't a part of. But what matters is now. Right here, with you.”

She sighed, her posture deflating a little. “I know. It's silly, isn't it? To be jealous of a close friend of yours.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then it's valid, no matter how silly you think it might be,” you assured her.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Growing up, our worlds were confined to that same apartment building. The people, the routines, everything was predictable. And now... being out in the world, seeing you connect with others, it's just... intimidating. And, honestly, a little scary.”

You paused, smirking a bit. “You know,” you began, but Wanda cut in, “What?”

“It's just...Do you even know how happy you make me?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

She looked like she was about to say something, but you quickly added, “Seriously, Wands.”

Wanda blinked, clearly taken aback. “You have this strange way of turning things around,” she said with a soft chuckle, her face turning a shade pinker.

“Because I love you.”

Neither of you had said it up until now. And it’s quickly evident that it was the right thing to say, at the right moment.

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with her cup. “You always jump in headfirst, don't you?” Then, looking up into your eyes, she added softly, “I love you too.”

You grinned, feeling a weight lifted. “Took you long enough.”

Now

The grand ballroom doors open with a soft whoosh, the muted melodies of a string quartet drifting into the cool night. You step out quickly, breathing in deep gulps of fresh air, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Memories of Wanda Maximoff, which you've tried hard to keep buried, surge to the forefront of your mind.

Maria, noticing your abrupt exit, quickly follows you out. “Hey,” she calls out softly, her heels clicking on the stone path as she reaches you. “Are you okay?”

“Why is she here?” you exclaim, the pitch of your voice inching towards a sharp octave.

Maria gently grabs your arm, offering solace. “I had no idea she'd be here. I promise. She must be someone’s plus one.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your suddenly spinning surroundings.

“Y/N?”

“I'm okay, Maria,” you say, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry about this. It's your wedding, and you shouldn't be out here with me. Go back, enjoy your day.”

She looks conflicted, torn between staying by your side and going back to her new spouse and guests.

After a moment, Maria steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Promise me you'll be okay?”

You nod, hugging her back. “That’s too many promises in one day. But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

It’s just Wanda, you tell yourself.

Just the girl who could always bring out that special smile in you—the same one Maria had when she said, “I do.”

Then

The call came unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

You and Wanda had been dozing in her room for a few hours, following a particularly exhausting fight that concluded with even more exhausting—and mind-blowing—make-up sex.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” You instantly recognized Pietro’s voice. “Hey, listen, can you pick me up? I'm at a bar,” Pietro said, his voice tinged with guilt and slight slurring. “I... I swear I didn't do anything. I got promoted to store manager and I treated a few colleagues to celebrate. I'm a bit tipsy so I... I'm sorry to bother you.”

There was a pause, and you ran a hand through your hair, exchanging a glance with Wanda who now sat up with a worried look.

“Which bar?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Mike’s Tavern,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand. “Alright, I'm on my way. Stay put.”

Wanda frowned, her gaze conflicted. “I want to come with you,” she said, her brows furrowing together in concern and sleepiness.

“You should stay,” you said, sliding into your jeans. “It's a bit of a drive to New Jersey. You've had a long day, and you need to rest. I'll handle this.”

She bit her lip, torn, but finally nodded. “Please be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will,” you said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

-

You didn't call Wanda on your way back from New Jersey, but not because nothing occurred.

Rather, something did happen, and you weren't conscious enough to make the call.

-

You and Pietro made it to the hospital.

Wanda was an emotional wreck, grappling with the challenge of dividing her attention between her brother in ICU and you being wheeled into a separate ward.

An hour later, she didn't need to decide any longer.

Pietro Maximoff's time of death was called just as you started regaining consciousness.

-

The days following Pietro's death were a blur. You'd wake up, immediately feeling the weight of the world pressing down, your every moment drenched in guilt in the form of alcohol and, sometimes, your own vomit. 

Though you weren't close to Pietro anymore, he was slowly turning his life around. And while a drunk truck driver caused the accident, your own haste to get back to Wanda made you reckless. 

That choice haunted you daily.

That choice made you believe that Wanda hated you in secret.

You began avoiding Wanda, her presence a haunting reminder of the brother she lost and, in a twisted way, the brother you felt responsible for losing. The relationship you cultivated turned into something that only existed as a label. Otherwise, it didn’t exist at all. It faded, just like the gash on your face that you acquired from the accident.

Nights blurred into days, and sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which. Friends would find you in bars or on the rooftops, looking worse for wear, lost in your thoughts. Yes, Wanda grieved, but she was also lost without you by her side. She yearned for your comfort, your grounding presence; instead, all she got was your voicemail.

The breaking point came on an evening when she didn’t hear from you for two weeks. On a hunch, she decided to visit your dorm room. The last thing she expected was to find Maria there. While the situation was innocent enough, to Wanda's overwhelmed and grieving heart, it felt like a betrayal. Maria, sensing the rising tension, made a hasty exit, leaving the two of you alone.

Wanda's eyes glittered with rage and sadness. “Is this it?” she demanded. “Is this how we handle grief? You shut me out and bring her in?” 

You looked away, the walls you had put up to protect yourself now seeming like a prison. “It's not about Maria,” you murmured, your voice empty, almost lifeless.

Wanda's red-rimmed eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of the person she loved. “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Why don't you blame me?” you suddenly screamed, tears blurring your vision. “You should hate me for your brother dying!”

For a few moments, there was a deafening silence, interrupted only by your quiet sobs.

Wanda's hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I've never blamed you. Not once.”

You remained quiet, refusing to let Wanda lift your chin from your chest.

Wanda continued, “Life is a series of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. You can't control everything. And neither can I. We both lost him, Y/N. I don’t need more loss by losing you too.”

“Maybe you already have,” you whispered, finally looking into her eyes.

Wanda's voice cracked, “You can't be serious. What are you saying?”

You felt drained, worn out. “I don't know how to be us anymore, Wanda.”

She looked devastated. “So you're just walking away? Because we're hurting?”

You just wanted to be able to breathe again. You just wanted all of the pain to end, even if it meant letting her go.

Wanda's face crumpled, her voice rising. “So, that's it? You're just giving up?”

You could barely muster the strength to speak. "I just think... maybe it's easier this way."

“Easier for whom?” Wanda yelled, unable to hold everything back any longer. “I don't need easy, Y/N. I need you. But if you're so set on this, then be honest with me.”

You took a deep breath, your throat tight. “I think we need space, Wanda. A break.”

For a moment, it looked like Wanda might collapse. She took a step back, her gaze cold and hard. “You think a break will fix this? Fine. But don't expect me to be here waiting when you come around.” 

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

The last image of Wanda Maximoff etched into your mind as you closed her chapter.

Now

You half-expect her to seek you out after you left the reception. So, when the familiar scent of Wanda’s perfume wafts over, you keep your back turned, taking a long drag from your cigarette rather than acknowledging her arrival.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, her voice softer than the last time you heard it.

You hand her a cigarette without a word, watching her closely as she lights it. Her fingers, slender and pale, bring the cigarette to her lips, and she takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh.

She looks so different, yet so achingly familiar.

Her hair is red—a detail you missed earlier. But now, standing this close to her, you can pick out everything that’s changed about her.

And you hate how good you are at doing just that.

For a few minutes, both of you stand in silence, letting the smoke swirl around in patterns before it gets carried away by the wind.

Wanda breaks the silence. “It's been a while.”

“Did you know it was Maria’s wedding?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to look at her.

She hesitates, exhaling a plume of smoke before admitting, “Yes, I did. But explaining to Steve our... complicated history and why I'd refuse to be his plus one seemed harder than just going with it.”

“Steve?”

She looks down, taking a moment before murmuring, “Steve’s my fiancé.”

Your eyes instinctively flit to her left hand, landing on the glimmering diamond ring. It's large and hard to miss, and you almost want to laugh that you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a long pause between you both before you find your voice. “Congratulations, Wanda.” And to your own surprise, you genuinely mean it. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action you still find so endearing after all these years. But you’re not supposed to find anything about her endearing anymore. They’re not supposed to make your heart race. They’re not supposed to make you feel light-headed with desire.

It hits you painfully just how possible it is to stand mere inches from someone, yet feel oceans apart.

Wanda takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily. 

“You know,” Wanda says, her voice soft, “I never really got to apologize for how things ended between us.” She shakes her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt... lost. And when you tried to come back, I was already seeing someone else. By that time–”

“–so much has happened and I’ve hurt you too much,” you finish for her, a pained smile on your lips. “I’m sorry too.”

Wanda's breath hitches, and for a moment, she's transported back to your dorm room. She's spent a long time wondering what might have happened if she had stayed. But that choice belongs to a different timeline, a version of her that might have been braver than she feels now.

You pause, glancing at your hands before meeting her eyes. “Are you happy, Wanda?” A part of you hopes she's found happiness, yet another selfish part wishes she hasn't—because if she hasn't, maybe there's still a space for you in her life.

Wanda meets your gaze, her eyes shining with a clarity you hadn't seen in years. “I am happy,” she confirms softly.

The unexpected rush of emotion tightens your throat, and your eyes mist over. But you fight it, forcing a big smile that wrinkles the corners of your eyes. 

“That's great, Wanda,” you say. Your heart aches a bit, thinking how happiness can feel like a double-edged sword.

Reading your expression, she asks, “What about you? Are you happy?”

You promised Maria you won’t stop looking for the kind of happiness that brings people together. 

So, now you hang onto the hope of that promise. 

“Getting there,” you answer, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I will be.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #steve rogers #wanda maximoff au #maria hill #bittersweet ending

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers

Writing prompt: What are we going to do with [blank]?

Sorry besties, I'm a bit late. @missmaywemeetagain @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

Summary: Mary didn't want to leave the US. Elvis didn't want to leave either. Yet, they somehow found themselves on the same ship steaming towards Europe.

Word count: ~4k

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Aboard the USS Randall, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. September 30th 1958

Mary pulled the blanket tighter around her body when another cool breeze mixed with icy sea water hit her face. She could taste the salt on her lips and rubbed her stinging eyes. After blinking a few times she resumed to watching how the full moon above her relected in the calm waves below her. She leaned foward, her numb hands slipping from below the rough fabric to tightly grip onto the even colder steel of the railing. Hearing the steady splashing of the water against the side of the ship had a calming effect on her troubled mind.

Being the daughter of an army officer meant moving around, never really having a place she could really call home. After eighteen years should reall be used to it by now. But leaving for another country, not knowing the language or the people at all, made her feel slightly nauseous. Mary took a deep breath and tried to focus on the rhythmic splashing of the water again.

"Afraid there ain't enough lifeboats?" A familiar voice suddenly called behind her.

She whirled around and winced when her elbow hit the railing. It took her a moment to realise who the silhouette in the shadows belonged to. It was him. With his hair clean cut like the rest of the army boys, the side burns that used to make every girl go absolute bonkers now shaven off. Disbelief flooded her mind like the cold, salty ocean water below her. This was the second time she ran into him this week. Or well, he ran into her. And the probability of that happening wasn't very high, she tought, recalling a conversation she had a few days ago.

Janet, a bubbly thirteen year old, and her friend Terry had exitedly sat down next to her, while she enjoyed a cup of coffee and read a magazine in the day room. "Mary, we missed him again! They said he was on the sun deck, but when we got there they said he just left!"

Mary raised her coffee cup to her lips, almost burning her tongue in the process and smiled at her. "...You have four more days, Janet. I'm sure there will be another opportunity."

"Don't you want to meet him?"

Mary put her magazine down and leaned back into the plush pillow of her seat. She just couldn't bear to tell the girls that their teen idol seemed to be rather annoyed by the officer's daughters ambushing him everywhere he went. At least that's what her father told her. "Oh, sure I would... But I'd be an awkward mess in front of him." She leaned over with a grin. "You ladies should be the ones meeting him."

Janet had giggled and turned over to her friend. "Oh, what are we going to do with him once we meet him?"

"I want to hug him! And I'll ask him for an autograph!" Terry exclaimed, clapping her hands in exitement.

"I want to take a picture with him!" Janet swooned.

"Maybe he'll sing for us!"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Mary had added with a fond smile and a good natured shake of her head as she watched the exited teen girls dance around each other, before darting out of the day room towards the deck again.

"You." She now stated, looking him up and down. He approached her, twirling the ring on his pinky.

"Me." he countered, still in his neat uniform, as he leaned against the railing with his back.

She let out a flustered laugh. "I'm not really concerned about the life boats. More about what's gonna happen tomorrow."

A wistful look overtook his beautiful features and he slightly inclined his head, as if nodding along. He hummed and drummed his fingers against the steel. Mary had seen this particular look two nights before.

She never thought that the fact that her father taught himself how to play the guitar during the war would lead to her dancing with Elvis Presley. But it did on that one evening, an evening where everyone on board craved entertainment, a distraction. Ski, the cheerful G.I. with the accordion, apparently organised the whole thing, asking everyone who could to play an instrument. Of course her father had stepped up and exitedly invited her, her mother and her brother to come to see him being part this very exclusive show.

"Elvis will be there as well, right?" Mary had asked a few hours before the mini concert was supposed to start.

Her father stopped rolling his cigarette and looked up to her. "Yes dear, I reckon he will be. Don't think he'll spend the night in his cabin." He answered with a light hearted smile.

She absentmidedly pulled at the sleeves of her dress. "Do you think I could bring some of the other girls? They spend their entire time here trying to accidentally run into Elvis." she chuckled.

"Oh, I don't know, dear. If everyone brought their friends there'd be a thousand people in the day room... I'm afraid it's not possible. You might want to ask Ski about that." he offered with a shrug.

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "No, it's alright, I don't want to cause any trouble." she hummed, a bit bummed out. "I guess I'll just have to get them an autograph or something. If I get the opportunity."

Later that evening a man named Charlie Hodge introduced himself and acted as emcee for the evening, her father stood proudly in the background with his guitar. She'd never seen him so exited and child like before, which made her grin widely, yet mildly weirded her out at the same time. But the weirdest thing during the whole show must have been the fact that hip-swinging Elvis the Pelvis, how the magazines called him, sat still at the piano, looking all prim and proper, not uttering a single word. He didn't even get introduced. She kept looking around in confusion, trying to figure out if she was the only one noticing this strange circumstance. Apparently she either was the only one or everyone just skillfully ignored this mystery.

It was then when she observed his gaze, she noticed he was seemingly a thousand miles away. His blue eyes weren't twinkling with mirth like they usually did when she used to watch him on tv. His full lips formed something that resembled both a permanent pout and a scowl. He looked so incredibly sad, it made her heart hurt. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood to sing, she reasoned. The recent death of his mother must still weigh heavy on him, the rare smiles and laughs this Charlie guy managed to get out of him from time to time never really reaching his eyes. It just seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. Mary wondered if she should approach him at all or just leave him alone. For now she chose to do the latter.

She busied herself cheering on her father as he supported the "USS Randall Ramblers", as they introduced themselves. Yet, she found that her eyes kept wandering to the raven haired man at the piano. His mouth kept moving, as if singing along, just for himself. When she looked down she saw his feet tapping on the creaky, wooden floor and his knees jiggling slightly as if he couldn't contain the movement even if he tried to.

She looked up at his face again and noticed that he was looking right back at her, their eyes locking. She stopped in her tracks, the music and laughter around her now sounding muffled and dull. Her breathing picked up under his intense gaze and she tried not to choke on her own spit when one corner of his lip lifted into a small half smile. She managed to smile back, though it probably looked more like a grimace and quickly averted her eyes again in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Out of corner of her eye she saw him shaking his head with a grin.

When the show was over many, including Mary and her family, still lingered, not wanting this light, merry atmosphere to fade into the not so fun reality. The people around her started carelessly dancing, singing and drinking and even her parents dared to join the other dancing couples, leaving Mary to sit alone with her little brother. It was then, thankfully, that Charlie Hodge approached her and held out his hand to her.

"Care to join me for a dance?" he asked with a, what she has to admit, was a rather cute smile. She skillfully ignored her brother snorting loudly next to her and slipped her hand into Charlie's with a smile.

"I'd love to." she agreed and he wasted no time to pull her along with him. Charlie was a rather small fella, her low heels caused her to actually be an inch taller than him, which she found kind of endearing. He was also careful to keep a respectful distance between their bodies, his grip on her waist light and gentle as he slowly twirled her around.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked in a loud voice, the music and laughter around them making it hard for her to understand him.

She nodded enthusiastically. "It was a great performance! Really, uh, I think we all needed that to be honest."

He smiled up at her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Gotta do something on this ship to keep everyone's spirit up."

"It's horribly draining isn't it?"

"Especially for some of us." he nodded, his eyes briefly, involuntarily, flicking towards something behind her.

She looked up at him quizzically before turning her head with her eyebrows scrunched up, to see what he was looking at.

Elvis stood next to a table on the other side of the room with his hands on his hips, talking to another man. Well, the talking consisted of him dutifully nodding along, his eyes blank, and his expression neutral. Except for the slight raise of one eyebrow. If anything he looked annoyed and exhausted. It was as if he felt her gaze on him, his eyes moving away from the man in front if him and suddenly their eyes locked again. She quickly turned back to Charlie, embarrassed once more that he caught her staring. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort though.

"Uh, you mean Elvis?" She asked, just wanting to say something.

He shook his head defensively. "No, I, um meant young, delicate girls like yourself. Uh, doesn't do you no good being on a warship this long."

She hummed with a sceptical look on her face, more interested about what he apparently had to say about Elvis.

"You know him? Elvis?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You two seem rather familiar." she shrugged.

"We share a bunk. Known him for a few years now, we reconnected in the army." he explained with a fond smile.

"Ah." she nodded in understanding and looked down. Which is why she didn't notice Charlie's eyes widening slightly before she heard a booming voice behind her.

"Man, you're stepping all over her feet, give the poor girl a break."

"EP-"

"Nah man, step away, lemme show ya how to do it." Elvis didn't even wait for her reaction to the whole exchange as he pulled her away from Charlie's gentle grasp and pressed her against his hard body, one hand around her waist, one hand guiding her head towards his chest. Whereas Charlie had carefully ensured there was enough space between their bodies for a theoretical third person to join in, Elvis didn't seem to share this sentiment. With no regards towards her personal space he held her in a tight grip, her cheek now resting against his toned chest, the smell of his cologne immediately causing her brain to short circuit. He was definitely taller than her previous dance partner as well, she thought while he started swaying them lightly back and forth. She saw Charlie quickly shuffling away and realised for the first time that she was now, in fact, dancing with Elvis Presley.

"Sorry about him, sweetheart. He's just really awkward in front of girls. Good thing I came to rescue ya." He mumbled and laid his cheek against her hair like they'd known each other for years.

She looked around, trying to discern if anyone had witnessed the spectacle that just happened. She'd hate to be the center of attention. Luckily everyone was still rather busy with themselves and in high spirits, the small incident thankfully not spoiling with the wonderfully exuberant atmosphere. "Do you always steel away girls from your buddies like that?" Mary asked, her voice a bit muffled, her cheek and lips still smushed against his dapper uniform.

He hummed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Only the pretty ones. Ol' Charlie wouldn't know how to treat a girl like ya."

"And you do?"

"I know everything about women there is to know, sweetheart."

"Most girls aren't that complicated, you know?"

"Every single one is, sweetheart."

"Well, the one's onboard aren't that hard to please, believe me. I'll tell you as a woman."

He hummed and released his grip on her hair to look at her, eyebrows raised quizzically.

She giggled. "It seems to be almost impossible to find you on this ship, you know that? My, uh friends keep trying to see you. That's all they want. But from what they're telling me you could actually be a ghost."

His face momentarily darkened again and Mary wondered if she said something wrong. She laughed awkwardly before continuing. "You know, they hear rumors that you could be there, or that you're spending your time here and once they go there... you're always gone. Vanished into thin air. Poof."

He needed a moment to register her words before giving her a regretful smile. "Oh, you know, I'd actually love to meet em, honey. See, they keep me busy sweeping the decks and scraping off rust. Ain't really got no time for myself. Or the girls."

She nodded and pursed her lips. "The way I see it you owe me something for the dance now, don't I?"

"Oh, so you're the one girl aboard not as easily pleased as the others? What a lucky guy I am."

"Now, that's something you brought upon yourself. Tearing me away so cruelly from poor Charlie."

"Told ya already, poor Charlie wouldn't know how to handle ya. The more I talk to ya the more I get the feeling that I'm right."

"And I get the feeling that this means you want to listen to the deal I'd like to propose?"

He smirked. "Oh, I'd love to hear a proposal from you, sweetie."

She jokingly rolled her eyes at him and he bit his lip, his own eyes half closed. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Focus. In exchange for the dance, I need you to at least sign some autographs for my friends, alright?"

"That much I can do, honey."

"Perfect! Thank you!"

Mary pulled him along to a nearby table and she reached out, gathering some of the white napkins. She laid them down in front of him.

"Pen, pen, pen..." she mumbled to herself over and over again frantically, her eyes scanning the area around her.

"Got one, honey. Don't get all worked up." he said with a smug smile and pulled a pen out of his breast pocket.

She gave him a look before pointing towards the paper in front of him. "For Janet, please. And Terry. Oh and Darby." She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, trying to remember the name of the other girl Janet regularly went Elvis hunting with. "And Sheila!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers triumphantly.

He leaned down. "Gotta lot of friends, honey." he smiled up at her through his long, black lashes and went on to sign the napkins, as she peered over his shoulders.

"What about you?" he asked as he finished writing and turned around again.

She took a startled step back, not realising how close she actually stood to him before. "Huh?"

He bit his lip again, trying to contain a playful smile. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Oh, Mary."

"Mary. That's pretty." He smiled as he leaned over the table again and grabbed another napkin to scribble down a personal autograph for her as well. When he finished he held it out to her, but quickly snatched it away again when she wanted to take it from him.

"Nah, sweetheart, this one costs extra." He chuckled, holding it high above his head where she couldn't reach it.

"Another dance?" she asked, wanting to sound serious, maybe even exasperated. Yet, she could barely suppress a smile.

He pointed to his cheek with an innocent expression. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him, making him pout. She sighed and leaned up on her tippy toes, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach and mentally prepared to be so close to him. Again. When she softly pressed her lips against his impossibly soft skin, she couldn't help but close her eyes and smile at the sensation. He leaned into her touch, pressing his cheek further against her mouth, relishing the feeling as well. There was a certain hollowness she felt in the pit of her stomach when she had to force herself to pull away from him before it got weird. She looked up at him expectantly.

He opened his eyes again and gently pressed the napkin into her hand. "Thank you so much, sweetie, you really didn't have to do this. But I'll accept it as your apology for being mean to me."

She stared up at him, open mouthed, at a loss of words. He raised her hand to his lips. "See you around, Mary." With a wink he left her standing there, clutching the signed napkins tightly in both in frustration and desire.

"Can't sleep either, huh? Or are ya seasick, leaning over the railing like that?" His playful voice startled her out of the memory.

She shrugged, and after another breeze of cold salt water against her face she decided to step away from the railing and sat down on a bench nearby. "Tomorrow we'll dock at Bremerhaven. My family is all exited about it."

"And you're not?" he asked and sat down beside her.

She shifted, her feet now resting on the bench as well so she could tuck them into her blanket. "I don't know. I'm a bit scared to be honest. Uh, what about you?"

He huffed. "...Were your little friends happy about the autographs?" he asked, quickly avoiding her question.

She blinked. "...Oh, uh yeah, they went absolutely crazy!" She chuckled at the memory of Janet flinging herself around her neck, eternally grateful. "It meant so much to them. Thank you, again."

He smiled and put his arm around her. "Thank you, sweetie. Always happy to make a deal with you."

She gave him an over the top sweet, fake, smile and he snorted. "But really, I'm glad... Don't know how many of them are left when I return."

She frowned at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile turned solemn and he looked down. "My... fans." he winced a bit at that word. "The folks who support me. They mean e-everything to me... Now that I'll be gone for at least two years..." he trailed off and shook his head.

"I think they know that you're not abandoning them. You're doing your duty." she argued and gestured to his uniform.

He ran a hand over his clean shaven face. "Doesn't matter. They'll forget a-about me."

She leaned over. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That's not gonna happen, I can't imagine dear Janet ever stopping trying to hunt you down. Just to get a small glimpse."

His eyes locked with hers again. "And what about you?"

"Mhm. I'll certainly always remember that handsome G.I. playing the piano. He's a great dancer as well. Oh, and he has a beautiful voice. Unfortunately he didn't sing, but I know he can. I saw him perform on tv. Can you believe that?" She said with big eyes.

He snorted a little and raised one eyebrow at her. "Sounds like an interesting fella."

"Oh you won't believe it. Definitely someone who leaves a lasting impression."

"Aww, you're sweet for saying that, baby. Means a lot to me."

She sighed. "If we wouldn't dock tomorrow I'd personally organise another show. Just you and me and the girls." she chuckled and gently ran her fingers over his forehead.

There was a beat of silence until he released a shuddering breath. "I'd love that. When we were dancing, you, uh made me forget everything for a minute... It was really nice."

"I liked it too." She gently smiled.

"...I-I'm not even allowed to sing anymore, Mary." he whispered after a few minutes of agreeable silence.

"...Uh, you know, I was wondering about that. The other day... you only played the piano."

He took a deep breath. "That I did."

"And you didn't sing." she continued with a pointed look.

He absentmindedly reached up and removed his hat, revealing the trim army hair cut, instead of the perfectly styled pompadour she was used to. "The uh, army a-and my manager thought it would be better if I didn't." He explained and carefully examined the hat he held in his hands, narrowing his eyes at it, as if it was personally responsible for his misery.

"They, uh really forbid you to sing? As in you're really not allowed to?"

He shrugged, his voice failing him and laid his head against her shoulder, both of his arms now around her waist. She swallowed hard. "I-I'd certainly like to have a talk with that manager of yours. Forbidding you to perform. I don't believe it."

His icy nose bumped against her warm neck, and a chill ran down her spine. "It's just not s-supposed to be like that. Nothing. Everything is... going wrong." he whispered and pressed himself even closer to her.

A bit overwhelmed, Mary didn't really know what to do to comfort the man next to her who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. She now understood what Charlie Hodge meant when they were dancing two nights ago. It wasn't just that he wasn't allowed to sing. He was afraid. Terribly afraid. Of the future, of being alone. He was probably even more afraid than her. She noticed him shivering a bit, his head still angled away from her. When she heard him sniffle quietly she fully turned her body towards him and saw a single tear running down his reddened cheek.

"You're cold." she stated and opted to pretend like she thought his runny nose was a direct result of the icy wind still hitting their faces. "Come here." she whispered as she pulled away her blanket and drew in a sharp breath a the sudden cool air hitting her body. Then she carefully draped the rough fabric around him as well, wrapping them both up in a tight cocoon. He wordlessly snuggled up to her, his cold hands around her waist making her shiver once again.

His voice trembled a bit when he spoke up again. "Mary, will I see you again?"

"I don't know." she answered, honestly.

"You'll have to c-come visit me. In Friedberg. I-I'll a-arrange it." he stuttered, his voice urgent.

She hummed. "Mhm, we'll see. Under one condition though."

"What?" He raised his head, his nose bumping against hers.

She ran a finger over his full bottom lip. "You'll have to sing for me then."

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfic #army elvis

[gumnut-logic]

His giggle was infectious.

His little brother leapt from rock to rock, darting to peer into every pool he encountered, several times exclaiming at his discoveries and nattering off some long Latin name that meant absolutely nothing to Virgil. How one mollusc differed from another was something for a biologist to decide, not an artist.

Of course, every now and again, a shell would be shoved in his face, and the colours would catch his eyes. Virgil would take the shell, listen to the babbling, and stare at the pinks and oranges, calculate what he could do with those colours and then surreptitiously slide the found object into his pocket.

His pocket was clinking as he walked over the rocks.

The crab that was shoved in his face was a whole different kettle of crustacean. “Hey, Gords, c’mon, I want to keep my nose attached to my face.”

“Virg, it’s only a common rock crab. And a little one at that.” The so called common bearer of claws waved them in anger at Virgil.

“Yeah, well, can you put it back where it belongs? It looks ticked off at your interruption of its day.”

His little brother crouched back down at the edge of a larger rock pool and returned the crab to its hidey-hole.

They were on holiday.

Well, technically on holiday. Dad was still working and had disappeared for the day, leaving Scott in charge. The terrible two had immediately taken advantage of that fact and proceeded to make everyone’s life hell.

Before his eighteen year old brother could blow a fuse, Virgil had intervened and offered to take ten year old Gordon down to the shore for some rock pooling. It was an activity Virgil could tolerate, even enjoy, and it separated the synergy of the two youngest.

The relief in Scott’s eyes had been worth it.

No doubt, either Scott or John would be having the pleasure of setting up Alan’s backyard rocket set at this very moment.

Hopefully Scott, otherwise John would be adapting the mechanics and the silly thing would actually reach orbit, never be seen again and the wailing from their youngest would last the rest of the weekend.

But shells, crabs and the occasional anemone was Virgil’s concern at the moment.

The coastline was some kind of limestone and consequently peppered with holes for the receding tide to leave trapped sea creatures behind.

A sudden yell of “Sand goby!” and Virgil was dragged over to see a tiny fish barely two inches long and the same colour as the sand it was sitting on staring up at the two of them.

“I saw them darting about, but this one is the first to stay still enough. Look at those eyes!”

Looked like a tiny lizard of the sea.

Gordon touched the surface of the water and the fish disappeared in a cloud of displaced sand.

“Look how fast they are!” A glance at his brother and he found him literally buzzing with excitement.

“When we get back to the house, you can look it up. Did you get a photo?”

Gordon grinned up at him, brandishing the camera in his hand. “Yep. Wait until I show, Scotty.”

Virgil snorted. Scott knew even less than Virgil about ocean fauna, but he would love to see Gordon so excited.

Scott was a sucker for happy brothers.

As Gordon scampered over to the next rock pool, Virgil had to admit he quite enjoyed seeing Gordon like this, too.

“Woah! Virg, come look at this!”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil straightened and followed obediently, stepping from outcrop to outcrop to crouch beside his almost vibrating brother.

Gordon was pointing at a rock.

“What am I looking at, Gordon. All I see is rock.”

“Watch this.” Gordon stuck a finger into the water and prodded the ‘rock’.

It lit up in bright blue rings.

Now, Virgil didn’t know much about sea life, but he did know about this particular life form.

He grabbed Gordon’s arm and Gordon himself and yanked him away from the rock pool. Unfortunately, that unbalanced the both of them and they promptly fell into the rock pool next door.

Considering what they had just encountered, Virgil was none too happy about this state of affairs and, spluttering, staggered to his feet, dragging his protesting little brother as far away from the offending puddle of water as he could.

“Virgil! What? Why? Lemme go!”

“Gordon, you know exactly what that is. Why the hell did you touch it?!”

“It won’t hurt me! And it is amazing. Lemme go! I’ve never seen one before and I want to look at it some more!”

“You are not going anywhere near it. In fact, we are getting off this beach right now!”

“Aww, Virg, c’mon! It won’t hurt us!”

“It’s a blue-ringed octopus Gordon! It bites you, you’re dead!”

“It’s not going to bite me!”

“It looked angry enough after you poked it. Why the hell did you poke it?”

“Uh, to see the rings? It’s amazing.”

“It’s a deadly octopus!”

“God, Virg, get over it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing and I’m taking you back to the house where you can explain to Scott exactly what you were doing.”

“Aww, Virgil, please. I thought you were the cool one. The one who understood.”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

And his brother sagged before him. “I thought you understood.”

“Understood what?”

“How much fun this is.”

A frown and Virgil’s heart slowed a little. Gordon’s head had dropped and he was looking at the ground. “Gordon?”

“You, Virgil. All the others just talk about planes and space and flying. You’re the only one who listens to me when I talk about this stuff.”

His frown deepened and he reached out a hand and placed it on his little brother’s shoulder.

“I’m always the odd one out. Everyone else wants to go to the military museums, not the natural history museums. You always stand up for me and come with me. I know you don’t like it as much as I do, but you help.”

Okay, so his little brother knew how to get into his heart and twist it. Of course, this was Gordon and the little rat had his ways, but the honesty on his face was plain and it got inside Virgil’s softy sixteen year old heart.

Virgil sighed. “Okay, I get it. You have a point.” Though he had to admit, Virgil had dragged Scott through a number of art museums in the past. The boredom on his brother’s face had been epic, but Scott had done it for him.

A sigh. “I’ll make you a deal. No prodding deadly wildlife. You take note and step out of harm’s way. For both your health and mine.” And the rest of the family’s.

Russet brown eyes caught the sun and literally bloomed in excitement. His brother’s innate bouncing resumed. “Deal!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let his brother go. Gordon didn’t give him a chance to change his mind and darted off towards the nearest rock pool.

He stood there and watched his little brother dart from pool to pool and after a moment, before he could get too far away, resumed his unhurried stroll down the beach with him.

He did understand his little brother and he appreciated his fascination with all things sea and he would help him reach those places that he loved.

Latin bounced down the beach towards him and Virgil grinned.

Ten minutes later. “Ooh, look, Virg, it is just like a miniature box jellyfish!” 

Wha-?

Virgil ran.

-o-o-o-

If you are interested in what Gordon found have a look here. And yes, I have encountered them and been stung by them. Rather unpleasant :D

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #fishtankweek #fishtankweek2024 #one of my favs leading up to next week #self indulgent goop #nuttyfic reblog #young tracys

[negrowhat]

Spotify Wrapped BL Couples Edition

Rules: Put your top 100 songs on shuffle and assign the first ten random songs you get to a specific BL couple, doesn’t have to make complete sense to anyone but you. This is harder than it sounds, trust me.

Credit to @theflagscene

Clearly this was meant for the end of the year but I've never seen it before today and I wasn't tagged but I want to do it lol. I'm just going to put my favorite playlist on shuffle.

I Don't Know by Seventeen

Alan and Wen from Moonlight Chicken

Time of Our Life by DAY6

Ritsu and Masumi from The End of the World with You

Thinkin Bout You by Frank Ocean

Tan and Bun from Manner of Death

Round & Round by NCT U

Li Gong and Ze Shou from Plus & Minus

Special by GOT7

Tinn and Gun from My School President

Guard You by Young K

Shen Wei and Yunlan from Guardian

Eighteen by KEY

Pat and Pran from Bad Buddy

Dangerously in Love by Destiny's Child

Kinn and Porsche from KinnPorsche the Series

Come Over Tonight by WONHO

Da Un and Si Won from BLUEMING

Can We Talk by Tevin Campbell

Pluem and Kevin from Ghost Host Ghost House

#seventeen #alanwen #moonlight chicken #day6 #the end of the world with you #ritsu x masumi #frank ocean #tanbun #manner of death #nct #nct u #ze shou x li gong #plus & minus #tinngun #my school president #got7 #youngk #weilan #guardian #key #shinee #kim kibum #patpran #bad buddy #destiny's child #kinn x porsche #kinnporsche the series #wonho #blueming #da un x si won

[mirrorballtales]

Dear reader,

Today this is not for you. It’s for a little girl. A little girl who should have read all of this when she needed it the most. Who should not have needed to read this. Who should have not lived a thousand lives by the time she was seventeen. Who deserved an unconditional love for simply breathing and nothing more.

I will love you in the dark. Even ocean’s apart you are in me, I am you. I am every age you ever were and lived. I love every version of you. The sweet baby who knew nothing, the three-year-old who did not understand why she was left alone. I am the five-year old who fought monsters three times her size with her little hands. I am the seven-year old who thought the world was better off without her sadness, she feared it was contagious. I am the ten-year old who cried because no one liked her. So she hid in her room reading books and writing stories of faraway castles where she always saved herself. I am the thirteen year old who went upstairs and was never the same. Whose body was tampered with without her consent. Who left with scars so deep time will not heal. I am the fourteen-year old who trusted someone so much she walked into the deepest part of the ocean and drowned. Who cried on the sand, was trying to be brave, while her friends laughed at low tide. I am the fifteen-year old who filled her arms with more scars and waited for someone to draw stars around them. I am the sixteen-year old who hated her body so much she started to disappear until she became bones. I am the seventeen-year old who broke and brought a monster into the light and paid a heavy price of never being loved. I am the eighteen-year old who tried one more time to go because the pain took a hold of anything good. But I also became the nineteen-year old who gave herself a second chance. Who begged for another try at life. I am the twenty-year old who decided that a broken heart did not mean she could not love herself. So she loved herself into health. She loved herself back to a healthy weight. She loved herself back to school. She loved herself back to dance. She loved herself back to fight. She loved herself back to love. I am the twenty-one year old who made space to love someone else. I am the twenty-five year old who felt had to accept that a part of me will never mend. I am the twenty-six year old who decided to get out and help someone else. I am the twenty-seven year old who watched in agony how lonely life is. I am the twenty-eight year old who remembered that there is a world to roam. I am the twenty-nine year old who had to learn that her past got in the way and people left because they could not love that part of her. I became a soldier fighting in an army of one, left alone in the frontlines, ashamed to give up but okay with a cure not coming thru. I am the girl who is tired of mending all her gashes, having to rise from the ashes. Sick of being burned. Wanting my heart to start again. I know my pain is such an imposition. I’m a sad song that not everyone wants to hear. But I give my best of me. I will continue to be the bravest soldier. I wouldn’t marry me either. I am a pathological people pleaser who just wants to be seen.

No one will understand the violence that it took to make me this gentle, the days life tried to harden me and I had to choose kindness because we knew how much compassion is needed. You tried destroying yourself because you wanted some semblance of control. You’ll know why tenderness is always the right choice. And you have made some terrible choices. But you’ve also made good ones. Great ones. Choices that have led you to mend your bones.

I am still young. And still learning. I am still young and an innocent. I am still young and still mourning the child I could have been. I still have childlike rage and childlike loneliness. I was right to be angry at 13. And I am right to be happy at 30.

I wish I had been there when I was little. I wish I had been there with the cure for wounds. I wish I had iced your bruises and wiped your tears. I wish I had wrapped my arms around the little girl I was. But now I am the portrait of all those girls. I am the portrait of who I will be. I will be the one hung up at the museum for all to see. I will stand there with pride of everything I ever was. For I should have loved you when you were five, loved you when you were seven, loved you at thirteen, loved you at fifteen, loved you at eighteen, loved you at twenty-three, loved you at twenty-seven but I love you now. And I am proud of everything you have become. I will take care of you now, I will encase your mosaic-broken heart in my hands, and gently caress you to peace.

You will find love in all places. Every kind gesture. Every thoughtful word. Every kind smile and act of kindness will carry you to a new world. One where Earth will gently whisper into your heart - they are so happy you are here. They are so glad you made it.

I love you. I love this version of you. Thirty years clean. Thirty years learned. Thirty years lived. Thirty years to begin, again. I am the poem I have yet to write. I am the poem the pain created. I am the words I wish I’d heard at seventeen. But I will inscribe them into my soul and live the next new life with an unapologetic kindness that saves that little girl I was once. I love you to the moon and to Saturn. I am never leaving you again. Happy birthday.

B.

#taylor swift #folklore #you’re losing me #taylornation #seventeen #thirty #birthday #healing #thirty flirty and thriving #mirrorball

[trcvis]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [TRAVIS MILLER]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [JOE KEERY]. You must be the [TWENTY SEVEN] year old [ATTENDANT AT THE COOLDOWN ICE RINK]. Word is you’re [STEADFAST] but can also be a bit [ABRASIVE] and your favorite song is [JUST PRETEND BY BAD OMENS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

TW: Alcoholism, gambling, abandonment.

BASICS

Name: Travis Miller Gender/Pronouns: Cismale/He&Him Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Heterosexual Age: 27 Birthdate: 30th October Occupation: Attendant at Cool Down Ice Rink

ABOUT

Travis was born and bred in Aurora Bay and grew up on the Seabrook Quarter. He never knew his mother, the only information he had came from his alcoholic father that swore she was the devil's mistress and left them when Travis was all but three. However, his seemingly well-off grandparents (her folks) made sure to keep the bills paid and sent a birthday card once a year, despite never really having contact with Travis himself. It doesn't bother him as much any more, but he is left wondering who his mother is and why she gave up motherhood.

He was never really close to his father, but he mostly felt sorry for him. Due to his alcoholism, he couldn't hold down a job and often blamed Travis' mom for wrecking his life. He never knew whether his father meant his mom leaving or giving birth to him, but perhaps he didn't want to. There was no frontward malice and his father tried to show compassion on the rare occasions he was sober, but they mostly just avoided each other.

He was a fairly active kid, involving himself in sports throughout high school - anything to escape being at home and listening to his father's rants about how they'd been dealt an unfair hand, bla bla bla. American football was his forte, and maybe if he'd cared a little more about his grades he might have obtained a scholarship to somewhere a little more prestigious. However, school was nothing but a mere distraction to him, a place to hide, not a place to learn. He'd often spend his periods sat on the bleachers smoking away his worry of ending up like his old man.

After barely scraping the grades to graduate, Travis decided he needed to leave Aurora Bay. He needed a fresh start, and as much as he wished he could have, he couldn't rely on his AF skills to get him through adulthood. Using the money he'd saved up from his grandparent's birthday cards all those years, he bought himself a shoddy little motorcycle that did the job well enough to get him to Las Vegas, Nevada. He'd seen the city on television countless times and it definitely seemed the place to go to leave the past behind and reinvent yourself.

With a doctored ID that said the eighteen year old was in fact twenty one, he worked any job he could get, mostly bartending or being a croupier for gamblers happy to tip whenever they won big. It was fun for awhile, he worked, he played. Before he knew it, years had flown by.

He'd never really planned on returning to Aurora Bay, until he received a call from his now distant father. His father had never told his grandparents that their grandchild had moved out and they'd been paying bills solely for her daughter's ex. Furious, they'd be. They must have caught an inkling because for the first time in twenty years, they were paying a visit in person and from now on, these would be weekly visits. His father begged him to return, promising that if he kept up the facade he'd give him half the money that was sent from them every month and get himself a job.

It took some convincing, and Travis wasn't even really sure he'd receive any money, but a part of him, despite not speaking to his father for nearly ten years, still felt sympathy for him. He moved back within the week. However, he refused to live in that house and rented himself an apartment in Ocean Crest. He'd only turn up on his father's doorstep when he knew his grandparents were coming every week. He'd make small talk, thank them for their kindness, ask the same question about his mother which was always met with a "not now" and then leave.

To bide his time in Aurora Bay, Travis applied for the first job he'd seen advertised and luckily was qualified enough to be an attendant at the Cool Down Ice Rink. Although, it's noted he does a half ass job while he's there. You could get away with anything and Travis wouldn't bat an eyelid, unless he was in a sour mood. Shouting at teenagers could be pretty therapeutic.

He's been back for three months and still hasn't seen a single check from his father.

CONNECTIONS

roommate at ocean crest/best friend/unpaid babysitter (when dallas lets him) —@nomadjones

his high school gang, still close to this day, and have secrets that they'll take to the grave — @darcyxanthonyx, @jamesonxcassidy, @jadejefferson

childhood best friend and found family trope — @jadejefferson

first love/secret high school relationship — @gcldrushed

neighbour and tests her meals, usually turns up unannouced when he smells food — @cricketcampbell

previous hook up — @sterlingxlevin

crushing on @screamqueen-slater

@aurorabayaesthetic

#aurorabay.intro #intro;

[solarlotus]

Anakin accidentally getting drenched in water causing his shirt to be see through. This allows obi-wan to get a good look Anakin and he can't look away. Either just admiring his muscles or some new scar. That or like a nipple ring or tattoo.

Hope this is ok. I'm working through the prompts, work been hectic the last few days but should be back on it now.

Typically for a boy from a desert planet, Anakin Skywalker was fascinated with water. Obi Wan had watched his padawan go from tentative showers, fearful of the water being wasted down the drain, shallow baths, where he felt filling it past his small ankles would be a crime, to gradually becoming obsessed with water and the opportunuties the rest of the galaxy provided to bathe, play and swim.

Scariff was a mission of course, not a holiday, no a holiday was un-Jedi like, this was a mission to survey the ocean depths. If Anakin happened to enjoy himself, well the boy deserved some fun, he worked hard, ever eagar to prove himself and Obi Wan secretly thought there had never been a more talented or hardworking padawan in the order.

They spent the first two days circling the planet on their ship, Anakin monitoring the equipment, talking to his droid and making adjustments. They swapped part way, Obi Wan giving Anakin the flight controls, which he immediatly regretted. he was an excellent pilot, it was just he didn't use the nagivational euqipment at all, relying entirely on the Force to guide him.

'Come on, master,' Anakin laughed as they disembarked for their beachside lodge that evening. 'Have I ever made a mistake?'

'That's not the point, Anakin, the flight controls are there for a reason.'

'Of course I've not made a mistake, the Force doesn't make mistakes, as you always tell me.' Anakin grinned in triamph. Obi Wan shook his head ruefully, watching affectionately as his padawan ran down the landing strip to their lodge.

They didn't talk much over dinner, a delicious barbeque served by droids washed down with fruit juices and sticky sweets that left Anakin licking his fingers. 'These are so good, master,' he said, popping another of the sugary cubes in his mouth.

'Anakin, you're all sticky,' Obi Wan fussed.

'I'll wash in the sea,' Anakin said, raising his eyebrows before taking the long route to the little wooden jetty that stuck out from the lodge, rather than walking over the narrow sandy beach. Obi Wan watched with a smile as he jumped in, careless of his clothes and surfaced a few meters further out. He splashed around for a bit before leaping back onto the jetty and walking back to the table, picking up another sweet.

'Anakin, you could have just walked up the beach.'

'I was practising my skills,' Anakin retorted. Obi Wan looked up. He was going to lecture Anakin on inappropiate use of the Force, on showing off, that a Jedi did not seek adventure. But Anakin had been wearing a light cream tunic, which was now soaking wet and clung to every inch of tanned skin. To make matters worse the man was wriggling out of his wet trousers, hanging them to dry on the balcony rail and smiling like the morning sun.

Obi Wan was a Jedi knight, he was well respected within the order and without. He was not the sort of man who would lose the power of speech because his eighteen year old padawan was walking around in a wet see through tunic, his golden skin glowing. He would not sit with an open mouth because the man had suddenly developed muscles, had suddenly become a man and, oh kriff, the damned tunic clung to his buttocks too. Entirely transparent from the powerful shoulders to tight ass, and now he was turning around.

Anakin's smile was sweet, like the sun it lit up Obi Wan's life. His blue eyes were set behind dark lashes that seemed to glower sometimes, but now fixed their beauty on Obi Wan. And oh, what beauty. How had he not seen before? A long golden neck, a prominent adam's apple, smooth collar bones and muscular pecs. His stomach was taut and lean, narrowing to his hips and that incredible vee, a trail of dark hair going lower, and oh sweet moons!

Anakin was not a little boy anymore. His cock was thick and proud and Obi Wan was staring. Anakin approached, stood so close Obi Wan could see the tiny mole on his left hip,smell the salt water that clung to him and see the pebbled pink nipples.

'I'm going back in,' Anakin said, holding out a hand. 'Are you coming in?'

Against his better judgement Obi Wan nodded.

#Obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #obikin fanfic #prompt fill #answered ask

[definesanity]

The Doctor & The Criminal.

Taglist: @gunterdon @bardisipatos @chocoenvy @mari-san-cant.

Based off a conversation I had with @chocoenvy, so really this is mostly his idea lol--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nighttime of Liyue Harbour is one most spectacular indeed.

-

While many a common folk remain asleep, or even active during the city's nightlife, one establishment remains always open, and always ready.

-

The Wangsheng Health Clinic, all rumours aside, provide expert medical remedies to all people, and said people always feel far better coming out of the clinic than in.

-

As it was the weekend, the doors were being shut earlier, of which is completely understandable.

-

However, when the doors opened, a timid man it's opener, there was already someone there.

-

Dressed in an eerie white and blue, and a hat bearing a chrysanthemum, Hua Sheng, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Health Clinic, nodded at the newcomer, absentmindedly adjusting the rings on her fingers.

-

"You're quite lucky to catch us, we were just about to close." the girl no older than eighteen explained. Placing her hands together, she looked into the man's eyes, blue, flower-like pupils gleaming with concern and knowledge. "Well, what seems to be the problem?"

-

"...Oh, right!" the man shook his head, coming back to reality. "You see, for the past few days, my mouth's been hurting a lot, and the doctors haven't been able to figure out why..."

-

"Ah, I understand now. Please, take a seat. I will return shortly."

-

The man sat and waited, twiddling his thumbs. After a moment, the girl returned holding two odd looking tools; ones he has never seen before.

-

"Right, this might be awkward, but could you turn your head towards the light above you, and keep your mouth open? Don't worry; this won't harm you."

-

The man, while confused, obliged, closing his eyes to avoid hurting his eyes. A cold sensation then came over his teeth, but he still kept his mouth opened, listening to Hua Sheng humming.

-

"Well, you'll be glad to know that you can face downwards again..."

-

Looking towards the doctor and opening his eyes, the man was greeted to the unimpressed look on her face.

-

"If I may ask, when was the last time you brushed your teeth?" there was no judgement in her tone, but the man began to sweat slightly. Seeing this, Hua Sheng put her hand up. "I am not here to judge; I am only here to help."

-

"...Three months?" while it was said timidly, he was able to get the answer out. The brown-haired girl nodded, before taking a small pouch and, with it, a small tube.

-

"Here's my advice; brush your teeth, everyday, and they'll be as good as new in no time at all."

-

The man nodded gratefully, taking the small tube in his hands. "Thank you, Director Hua! See you again!"

-

He sprinted out the door... and Hua Sheng let out an exhale, pinching the bridge of her nose. Another day gone, another person prevented from killing themselves.

-

Don't get her wrong: she knows death is inevitable, but if she can prevent illnesses, or any other life saving injuries, than she'll do her best to help out.

-

Sighing, she made her way upstairs and into her bedroom. With all the last second people coming in, and it just generally being a better option, Hua Sheng took the liberty of living in the Clinic's spare room, now acting as her bedroom.

-

She closed the door behind her, rubbing her tired eyes when suddenly, two hands snaked over them, and a soft voice was heard behind her.

-

"Sheng, you look terrible." Fanzui, the infamous half-Adeptus criminal, who's evaded the law for centuries, turned her girlfriend around, deep ocean blue orbs consumed by concern.

-

"It's nothing, Zui," she tried brushing her off, but at her look, Hua Sheng relented. "Okay, I'll admit; this week's taken one heck of a toll on me..."

-

"Oh, you poor, poor thing..." the criminal, who could stand in court for one hundred years and still have offenses, cradled the young woman in her arms, sitting the both of them down on the Director's bed. "You should take a break, you know that?"

-

"I would if I could, Zui: with the amount of people who get sick daily, though... even with my Vision, I couldn't get it done."

-

(The two of them shared the same Element on their Visions: that of Hydro, the element of water.)

-

"...You're not just here to check up on me, are you?" even after she began her relationship with the young lass, Fanzui hadn't stopped her quest of crime; sure, she now avoids most crimes apart from stealing, but even then, breaking-and-entering isn't the smallest of crimes in Liyue.

-

"I'm afraid not; sorry to burst your bubble, Doc." ruffling the brown mess of hair, Fanzui stood back, azure blue meeting sapphire blue. "I caught wind of a certain treasure, and thought, 'Well, if no one wants it, don't mind if I do,' although..."

-

"Is it in another life-threatening area? I know you enjoy the thrill of theft, but don't you think it's a little over the top to steal every pretty little thing you come across?"

-

"Wow, talking about yourself now, hm?" at the deadpanned gaze, the criminal put her hands up. "Okay, okay; I promise you, this'll be the last one--"

-

"For how long, exactly?" it wasn't often that Hua Sheng got worked up, but the lack of fear began to grind her gears. "Fanzui, I love you, I really, really do, but one of these days you might end up dead from your own--"

-

She was suddenly hushed, a finger over her lips. Fanzui smiled; and, for once, it was fully genuine. "I promise you, this'll be the last life-threatening for as long as we live."

-

After a tense moment, Hua Sheng nodded, and the finger was removed. "Where is it?"

-

"It's in The Chasm; it's apparently a magical artifact known as the 'Fantastic Compass.'"

-

"...For once, I'm not surprised." shaking her head, she took her hat off, placing it on her bedside table. "We'll leave tomorrow. Twelve-thirty work for you?"

-

"It's a date!" gently kissing her love's cheek, Fanzui exited through the window, closing it behind her and disappearing into the night.

-

Touching where the kiss was, the phantom sense of Fanzui's soft lips staying for a few seconds more, Hua Sheng smiled to herself; Fanzui is caring and hyperactive, underneath her work as a thief. Likewise, Hua Sheng had a small streak of humour with her, alongside writing poetry. Perhaps, if she were less work-oriented, she'd have taken up pranking for a living.

-

But, well, that would be crazy, right?

#ryuusei's works #hua sheng #fanzui #genshin impact #reversed genshin impact au

[niralmylasaravanan]

I am not a woman, I am a god

My fatal flaw, my hubris, is that I am convinced that no one feels anything as deeply or strongly as I do. No matter how universalizing the experience, it will always stain me the deepest. The smallest flux of emotion tumbles through me like a tsunami. My vision glows in technicolor, neon, and glitter. The earth turns faster, the moon pulls the tides harder, the rustling of butterfly wings screams with vibrance. Sometimes I think I see eighteen trillion shades of blue alone, the ocean, the sky, my best friend’s eyes, all a bricolage of my favorite color.

I burn with rage and resentment, bitter malice builds me up to my highest. But I am also cursed with love so strong I never know where to put it. Caustic charisma and smothering affection run rampant in my veins. I fear I have killed so many hearts with the violence of my love, but I never desire to reign it in.

My years of feeling everything in abundance has washed me out. The thing with being inundated with emotion is that I do not know how to produce the energy to always keep up with it; and so I begin to feel nothing at all. I swing back and forth like a pendulum, my fickle heart forever vanquished to forces out of my control.

The only downfall to my condition is that I am utterly alone. It is cruel that the one thing I have ever asked for is denied me. Humanity will always be a step out of reach; the atoms that fabricate my soul are archaic, cosmic, divine in a way that holds no promise of greatness. So I must plod along, feeling every stroke of the universe send lightning through my neurons, and I must face the wonder of it alone.

It took me years to deduce why I feel this way. After all it is quite solipsistic of me to portray myself as the only one who experiences the complete depth of things. Then I stumbled across the term “intersectionality,” and the frenetic flurry of my mind came to a standstill.

Intersectionality is the theory that the overlap of race, gender, and sexuality affect the perspective and identity of individuals--meaning that people at the crux of intersections have a widened view of the world and the things it has to offer.

As a bisexual Indian-American woman, the concept of intersectionality was a moment of clarity. I understood why I felt like I had done more, seen more, been through more at such a young age. From early in my life I faced prejudice and marginalization for things I did not know made me different, and being exposed to that as a child warped my perception of the world to believe I was the only one who existed in the way that I do.

But that still did not explain my mercuriality or heightened emotional depth capacity. I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and ADHD when I was fifteen, and bipolar when I was seventeen. I have been in therapy since my freshman year of high school. I found that intersections apply to mental health and learning disabilities too, and my brain’s way of coping with the added overlaps was by playing vehemently into them. I found solace in my perceived aloneness and played with the stretches of my imagination until I was completely sure that no one could be even similar to me.

I’m older now and I have had a lot more conversations with a lot more people. The times of feeling as though my heart was a single celestial body buoyed by loneliness have dissipated and left me with a sense of independence and belonging. I have stopped weaponizing my uniqueness and started embracing it, using it as my vehicle to cement my place in history.

I have found my place as one in a constellation, a trail of bright stars twining together to form something worthy of myth.

[simplyswiftie]

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

I met you at such a vulnerable point in my life. Naïve and freshly scarred from my first real heartbreak. I met you and I was immediately intrigued by the chaos. The fact that you didn’t care how much you hurt... I coveted that demeanor. I thought maybe it would save me from more heartbreak if I could be that way too.

If you would’ve blinked then I would’ve looked away at the first glance.

We were almost the same age in years, but oceans apart in experience. You had already spent years in the fast life. I hadn’t even seen it yet.

If I was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands?

I stayed by your side through it all while still somehow being hidden away and unacknowledged. How dare I let you treat me that way.

But, lord, you made me feel important, then you tried to erase us.

I thought the drugs would numb my pain for awhile, but I never knew I would meet the devil through deceit. Like I said, naïve. Gullible enough to believe you when you told me the name of the drugs you gave me. I never knew until it was too late that I was using the stealer of souls. When I found out, I didn’t even make a big deal out of you deceiving me. I secretly enjoyed it every time I took it.

If you’d never looked my way, I would’ve stayed on my knees. I damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at eighteen. The god’s honest truth is that the pain was heaven.

I look back in mourning for the person I would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been if I’d never met you. It was my fault all along. I wanted to know what this life was like after the sheltered one I had lived before. I got my wish.

and now that I’m grown, I’m scared of ghosts. Memories feel like weapons. Now that I know, I wish you’d left me wondering.

It’s been five years since we last spoke, and I still resent you all the time, forever yearning to go back and make the decisions I should have back then.

I miss who I used to be. The tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. I regret you all the time.

I fear this may haunt me my whole life.

I can’t let this go, I fight with you in my sleep.

Why do I still think you’d care enough to apologize if I sent you this letter?

The wound won’t close, I keep on waiting for a sign. I regret you all the time.

I just want the mourning to end. How could I have ever let your memory last this long?

If clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die? I regret you all the time.

#taylor swift #would've could've should've #shadow work #personal #swiftie #diary #midnights #lyrics #heartbreak #nostalgia #regret #poetry #dark poetry #midnight thoughts

[flyingflosser09]

Cursed / Armando Salazar x OC / Chapter 18

Chapter 17: https://at.tumblr.com/flyingflosser09/cursed-armando-salazar-x-oc-chapter-17/9kduafdpdmxt

By mid-morning, the Mary already sailed upon a pirate ship in the distance. It hoisted a red flag with the black skull and crossbones in its center, the sigil of pirates.

I expected the crew to board the vessel and interrogate each and every pirate on it, hoping to learn something of Jack Sparrow’s whereabouts. What I didn’t expect was for the Mary to lift itself from stem to keel out of the water like a horse standing on its hind legs. The carcass of the cursed vessel flays open like the angry jaws of a predator, before clamping down on the pirate ship and sinking it within seconds.

All I could do was watch in terror as the vessel and its crew disappears below the sapphire waters. I feel them drown deep within my soul. As I told Armando in the early stages of our relationship, I feel each and every soul the ocean claims. Sometimes I believe, given time to fully connect with the ocean, it might even tell me the exact number of lives it claimed.

I’ve made peace with this feeling long ago. There is nothing I can do to save those who die at sea. Life can’t exist without death. The best I can hope for is for those souls to have passed quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Even now, watching the trail of wood and flames we leave behind, I have peace within me knowing those pirates, however vile they may be, have died quick deaths.

“Are you alright, Samira?” Santos asks me once we left the wreck behind. He knows I’ve never witnessed battle like this firsthand. The worst I’ve seen were the wounds of the soldiers I treated in infirmaries.

I don’t give him a direct answer. “They were pirates,” I tell him. “They pillage and plunder, they only take and never give back. The ocean is better off without them.”

“You sound just like the Capitán,” he points out, “Only less…hateful.”

“Pirates took my parents from me, Santos. They were the reason I drowned and came back cursed. I have every right to despise them as much as the Capitán does. However, I don’t wish for them to be tortured by any means. A quick death is a good enough way for them to go and for the ocean to be purer.”

There is a moment of silence before Santos speaks again, “Do you remember much about your parents?”

A frown etches between my brows. “My mother, a little. But my father I’ve almost forgotten completely. He must have not been involved in my childhood much.”

“How old were you when…” he trails off, wondering if he should say it out loud. How old was I when they died and when I drowned?

“It’s alright, Santos,” I offer him a smile. “I was eighteen years when I met Henry…that would have made me six years of age when pirates attacked our ship.”

“You spent all those years alone?”

“What choice did I have?” I shrug, not allowing myself to revisit that time of my life. “But everything will be different now, you’ll see. Soon, all our curses will be broken, and we’ll be free to start our lives anew. I can already imagine the women in Spain fawning over you. You were a catch when you were alive, yes?”

If ghosts could blush, Santos’ face would be glowing red. He clears his throat and looks away bashfully. “I…uh…maybe…I don’t know…”

I hum in amusement and chuckle lightheartedly. “I can’t wait until you are mortal so I can tease you endlessly whenever girls are nearby. I wonder if Magda does also blush easily?”

The chat with Santos lasted another few minutes as we talked about life outside our curses. It was enjoyable while it lasted, but soon, we came upon more pirate ships – all with the same red flags. They must belong to the same fleet, I figured.

And just like the first, the others fell victim to the Silent Mary as Armando ordered for each ship to be sunk.

Feeling the ocean claim a soul is one thing. It is but a mere twitch I feel within me, something easily remedied like scratching an itch. It is, however, entirely different to watch the pirates on those ships flounder about the water, some burning, some drowning before my very eyes, and some getting torn to shreds by sharks attracted by their bleeding wounds.

This time, their screams echo in my ears and only grows louder the more ships we attack. By noon, my limbs are as heavy as my conscious. So many were killed in one morning, so many lives lost…

I try telling myself they were pirates, we’ve done the world a service by disposing of them, that if we didn’t kill them today, they would’ve killed innocent people tomorrow. Alas, nothing could ease my guilt and I retired to the great cabin for some peace.

I’m halfway up the quarter deck when Lesaro’s voice calls above the oncoming breeze, “Capitán ! A ship sails towards us.”

Another one?

My heart nearly sinks to my stomach. Should I try reasoning with Armando to spare this one this time? I doubt he would listen to me, although a part of me hopes he does. I can’t take another soul passing through the waters today. I’m exhausted beyond the ability to oversee another execution.

But when my eye catches the ship in the distance, I pause. It’s bigger than the rest we’ve sank this morning and glitters in the sun like a floating heap of gold. A red flag with black skull and crossbones waves lazily in the wind. If the previous ships were as small and made of simple wood, then this must be the ship they served. Whoever the captain is, he must be a force to reckon with. Yet I have no doubt that the Mary will sink it as easily as it did the others.

You can’t defeat what’s already dead.

As we approach the pirate ship head on, the Mary lifts off once more and flays her ribcage open, ravenous to devour another vessel. I brace myself for impact and latch onto the wooden railing of the stairs leading to the helm.

But just as the Silent Mary was about to enclose around the pirate vessel, a loud, scratchy voice calls from below, “Captain Salazar, I hear you've been looking for Jack Sparrow!”

The world comes to a standstill at those bold words. I look up at Armando at the wheel. His face contorts from cruel anticipation of sinking another ship, to intrigue. What could this pirate know of his mission?

With a click of his tongue, the dead crew of the Silent Mary boards the pirate ship like the ghosts they are, dropping from the sky and landing on the decks, unharmed. Each officer draws their weapon and aim them at the pirates.

I watch wide-eyed as a pirate attempt to shoot an officer with half a face, only for the shot to pass through him and kill the pirate on the other side. Even if the shot did find his chest, as I said before, you can’t kill what’s already dead.

Anxious to see how this unfolds, I take my place at the wheel for a better view, my trip to the great cabin forgotten.

“Hold point and await orders!” Lesaro commands the crew, this time speaking English.

As soon as he said that, Armando lands a few paces behind the pirate captain who so boldly caught his attention. Even from my position behind the wheel, I can spot the chilling fear in the captain’s tense features as the Capitán  of the Silent Mary approaches him.

Armando stares him down with so much hatred, my own skin crawls with shivers and icy chills.

At last, the pirate captain musters enough courage to speak, “My name is Captain Barbarossa. And I stand before you with cordial intent.”

Armando laughs ironically and turns to his crew among the pirates, “Do you hear that? This pirate wishes to be cordial.” To the captain he says, “So let me show you what my cordiality is. Every time I tap my sword, one of your men will die. So, I suggest you speak quickly.”

He taps his sword once and an officer buries his sword in a pirate’s chest.

“Might want to go a bit faster Captain,” Armando challenges and taps his sword again, twice.

Two more pirates die, their gurgling screams bouncing off the wooden exterior of the ship.

I leave my post at the wheel to rush across the Mary, climbing the steeped deck to get a little closer.

“Where is Jack Sparrow?!” Armando just about roars at the captain, who hardly bats a lash at the outburst. If it was me his rage was targeted at, I’d be a fainted mess on the deck. Never in all my weeks upon the Mary, have I seen Armando this enraged.

“Jack be sailing for the trident,” says the captain calmly.

I pause.

Henry did it. He found Jack Sparrow and convinced him to help locate the trident.

“No, the sea belongs to the dead,” Armando shakes his head, hair moving elegantly with the motion.

“The Trident controls the seas.”

“No! No!” I flinch at the Capitán ’s outburst as his rage leads him to pace the deck. “There is no treasure. There is no treasure! It can’t save him, he’ll die with you!”

My heart forgets to beat as I watch him raise his rapier and aim it at the captain’s throat.

“I be the only one that can lead you to him,” the captain rambles in a final attempt to save his own life. The Capitán ’s sword hovers in the air. I hold my breath, expecting him to kill the pirate at any second. When he makes no such move, the captain continues, “I declare you should have Jack’s life by sunrise tomorrow or you can take me own then. Do we have an accord?”

His negotiation lingers in the air. I’m not certain if Armando even considers accepting it. He’d rather be cursed a thousand times than to accept any sort of assistance from a pirate.

But my soul’s been weighed down by death and blood enough for one day. Drawing a steady breath, I summon a breeze and guide it towards the pirate ship. As soon as it reaches Armando and plays through his hair, he jerks his head to the side and spots me at the banisters.

I pour my emotions into the breeze, hoping he can feel the toll all this violence has taken on me.

The pirate captain hesitantly follows his gaze, trying to see what he’s looking at but can’t spot me from where he stands. However, he jolts when Armando advances toward him, sword still aimed at his neck.

“Take me to him, and you will live to tell the tale.”

The captain smiles meekly. “You have my word. I thank you on behalf of my crew.”

Capitán  Salazar chuckles dryly, “Good, you can take what’s left of them.” A series of taps from his sword results in at least ten more pirates meeting their ends by the ghost crew. “The living come aboard!”

#armando salazar #armando #salazar #pirates of the caribbean: dead men tell no tales #pirates of the caribbean #potc dmtnt #potc #dmtnt #jack sparrow #henry turner

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Two long weeks

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I have seen almost nothing of Finnegan for two weeks.

I woke up to blow jobs a couple of mornings which let me tell you, I am not complaining about but he's been at the office sixteen to eighteen hours a day.

We managed to squeeze in miniature golf and dinner last Saturday and a really nice fuck and game time on Sunday between his work stuff but that was it.

Last night I woke up at three am, noticed he wasn't in bed and found him in his office doing a tele-conference... in Chinese... he never stops.

It's Thursday evening and he promised me via text today that he'll be home by eight so we can eat dinner together.

Slacker, only working fourteen hours today.

I have no doubt that he'll be up in the office afterwards but at least we can have a conversation and I can see how he's doing.

I'm going all out, roasting a chicken and making baked potatoes with all the fixings.

I even have dessert although I bought that, I have a job too.

At 8:16 p.m. he walks in the door and just stands there.

He's taking a few deep breaths as I walk over.

"Need some help?"

"Please."

I slowly take off his jacket and hang it and then remove his tie.

He didn't even loosen it when he left the office.

That done I go to work on his shirt buttons.

"Long day?"

He just nods, he's completely exhausted and mentally fried and it physically hurts me to see him this way.

I've seen that look in my friend's eyes, buddies from another time and another life and it's scary.

Some people don't come back from it.

He puts his hand on my shoulder to step out of his pants and I lead him to the couch and wrap him up in a blanket before turning on the TV and finding him a cartoon.

I give him the remote although I doubt he'll bother changing it, he'd have to care and for that he'd have to focus.

I check dinner and get him a drink, he's been on a lemonade kick since he got back from Michigan.

He drinks a bit and I put it on the coffee table for him before pulling him into my arms.

"I've got you Finnegan... it's okay."

I don't know how he's going to get through weeks or maybe months more of this.

"Emmett?"

"What is it?"

"I'm sort of done, I mean they're starting construction Monday. That's not done, not nearly done but it's a big stepping stone. A lot of progress. I had to get funding and permits and a contractor. Schematics, blueprints, clearance from the inspectors. God, the mess."

He's too tired to even be as coherent as usual.

My poor boy. 

"That's a huge accomplishment darling, I'm proud of you."

I probably couldn't have done all of that in a year, much less two weeks.

"I should be here, I should but Megan says I should take a vacation and see the ocean."

I love Megan... she's my favorite person.

"Absolutely, how long can you get away for?"

One day is a lot of driving and not a lot of beach although I've done it once... two days works.

Three is much better and four is actually a nice vacation.

"I don't know. How far is it? Could I come back to the office?"

Is he kidding?

"Not every morning. If you're talking Rehoboth it's two and a half, three max."

"No I meant like once. I have a thing Tuesday so we could leave Wednesday but if I can come back we could go on Sunday? I can't believe I'm saying this, it's asinine for me to leave right now. Can you get some time off? It's no notice but I can talk to Tristan. He might be able to put a good word in for you."

That's a lot to take in.

"Even though that would be a funny conversation, I'll talk to Peter. So leave Sunday morning, come back here Tuesday and then go back when? Thursday morning?"

He's curled up in a little ball and has his head on my lap.

Maybe he's half cat because he's practically purring as I run my fingers through his hair.

"We could do Wednesday afternoon if everything goes okay. No promises."

"Okay and then come back when? You gonna want to be in the office the next... Monday?"

"Honestly depends how much time you can get off work and how everything goes. Might be able to stay longer, may end up never going back Wednesday. Sorry, we're going to have to play it by ear."

He's not being elusive on purpose, his life is a firestorm right now so I'm not bothered.

"Darling, you desperately need a vacation so I will make it work. It's going to be hard to get a room but I'll get online after dinner and see what I can find."

"Emmett... I have a Megan. I'll have her do it tomorrow. I have to be on-site Saturday to do a final walk-through but I can do the rest of it from the beach for a few days. It smells really good in here, I'm starving."

Shit, I forgot to set the timer.

I jump up, sticking a pillow under his head and yes, it is definitely very done.

The skin is crispy and the leg moves easily which my mother always taught me was the sign it's done.

I have to melt the cheese and serve it up and voila, dinner is served.

"Come on back, darling."

He shuffles over and I know it's because he's exhausted which is awful but it's also adorable.

"How about I give you a massage and a nice BJ after dinner?"

"That sounds heavenly. I'm exhausted but I have a few things to do after that lovely offer. Don't let me crash."

I want him to actually get a good night's sleep but I will remind him because whatever he needs to do may be time sensitive.

I'm supposed to be taking care of him but how can I when he's never here?

At least he's getting a good meal into him, maybe after he's in bed I'll whip up some chicken salad with the leftovers and pack him a lunch.

It'll be nice not worrying about him so much tomorrow.

I'll even put a silly note in and a box of Yoo-Hoo.

That'll brighten his day.

"I'll take care of everything tonight, you can relax Finnegan."

[gumnut-logic]

His giggle was infectious.

His little brother leapt from rock to rock, darting to peer into every pool he encountered, several times exclaiming at his discoveries and nattering off some long Latin name that meant absolutely nothing to Virgil. How one mollusc differed from another was something for a biologist to decide, not an artist.

Of course, every now and again, a shell would be shoved in his face, and the colours would catch his eyes. Virgil would take the shell, listen to the babbling, and stare at the pinks and oranges, calculate what he could do with those colours and then surreptitiously slide the found object into his pocket.

His pocket was clinking as he walked over the rocks.

The crab that was shoved in his face was a whole different kettle of crustacean. “Hey, Gords, c’mon, I want to keep my nose attached to my face.”

“Virg, it’s only a common rock crab. And a little one at that.” The so called common bearer of claws waved them in anger at Virgil.

“Yeah, well, can you put it back where it belongs? It looks ticked off at your interruption of its day.”

His little brother crouched back down at the edge of a larger rock pool and returned the crab to its hidey-hole.

They were on holiday.

Well, technically on holiday. Dad was still working and had disappeared for the day, leaving Scott in charge. The terrible two had immediately taken advantage of that fact and proceeded to make everyone’s life hell.

Before his eighteen year old brother could blow a fuse, Virgil had intervened and offered to take ten year old Gordon down to the shore for some rock pooling. It was an activity Virgil could tolerate, even enjoy, and it separated the synergy of the two youngest.

The relief in Scott’s eyes had been worth it.

No doubt, either Scott or John would be having the pleasure of setting up Alan’s backyard rocket set at this very moment.

Hopefully Scott, otherwise John would be adapting the mechanics and the silly thing would actually reach orbit, never be seen again and the wailing from their youngest would last the rest of the weekend.

But shells, crabs and the occasional anemone was Virgil’s concern at the moment.

The coastline was some kind of limestone and consequently peppered with holes for the receding tide to leave trapped sea creatures behind.

A sudden yell of “Sand goby!” and Virgil was dragged over to see a tiny fish barely two inches long and the same colour as the sand it was sitting on staring up at the two of them.

“I saw them darting about, but this one is the first to stay still enough. Look at those eyes!”

Looked like a tiny lizard of the sea.

Gordon touched the surface of the water and the fish disappeared in a cloud of displaced sand.

“Look how fast they are!” A glance at his brother and he found him literally buzzing with excitement.

“When we get back to the house, you can look it up. Did you get a photo?”

Gordon grinned up at him, brandishing the camera in his hand. “Yep. Wait until I show, Scotty.”

Virgil snorted. Scott knew even less than Virgil about ocean fauna, but he would love to see Gordon so excited.

Scott was a sucker for happy brothers.

As Gordon scampered over to the next rock pool, Virgil had to admit he quite enjoyed seeing Gordon like this, too.

“Woah! Virg, come look at this!”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil straightened and followed obediently, stepping from outcrop to outcrop to crouch beside his almost vibrating brother.

Gordon was pointing at a rock.

“What am I looking at, Gordon. All I see is rock.”

“Watch this.” Gordon stuck a finger into the water and prodded the ‘rock’.

It lit up in bright blue rings.

Now, Virgil didn’t know much about sea life, but he did know about this particular life form.

He grabbed Gordon’s arm and Gordon himself and yanked him away from the rock pool. Unfortunately, that unbalanced the both of them and they promptly fell into the rock pool next door.

Considering what they had just encountered, Virgil was none too happy about this state of affairs and, spluttering, staggered to his feet, dragging his protesting little brother as far away from the offending puddle of water as he could.

“Virgil! What? Why? Lemme go!”

“Gordon, you know exactly what that is. Why the hell did you touch it?!”

“It won’t hurt me! And it is amazing. Lemme go! I’ve never seen one before and I want to look at it some more!”

“You are not going anywhere near it. In fact, we are getting off this beach right now!”

“Aww, Virg, c’mon! It won’t hurt us!”

“It’s a blue-ringed octopus Gordon! It bites you, you’re dead!”

“It’s not going to bite me!”

“It looked angry enough after you poked it. Why the hell did you poke it?”

“Uh, to see the rings? It’s amazing.”

“It’s a deadly octopus!”

“God, Virg, get over it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing and I’m taking you back to the house where you can explain to Scott exactly what you were doing.”

“Aww, Virgil, please. I thought you were the cool one. The one who understood.”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

And his brother sagged before him. “I thought you understood.”

“Understood what?”

“How much fun this is.”

A frown and Virgil’s heart slowed a little. Gordon’s head had dropped and he was looking at the ground. “Gordon?”

“You, Virgil. All the others just talk about planes and space and flying. You’re the only one who listens to me when I talk about this stuff.”

His frown deepened and he reached out a hand and placed it on his little brother’s shoulder.

“I’m always the odd one out. Everyone else wants to go to the military museums, not the natural history museums. You always stand up for me and come with me. I know you don’t like it as much as I do, but you help.”

Okay, so his little brother knew how to get into his heart and twist it. Of course, this was Gordon and the little rat had his ways, but the honesty on his face was plain and it got inside Virgil’s softy sixteen year old heart.

Virgil sighed. “Okay, I get it. You have a point.” Though he had to admit, Virgil had dragged Scott through a number of art museums in the past. The boredom on his brother’s face had been epic, but Scott had done it for him.

A sigh. “I’ll make you a deal. No prodding deadly wildlife. You take note and step out of harm’s way. For both your health and mine.” And the rest of the family’s.

Russet brown eyes caught the sun and literally bloomed in excitement. His brother’s innate bouncing resumed. “Deal!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let his brother go. Gordon didn’t give him a chance to change his mind and darted off towards the nearest rock pool.

He stood there and watched his little brother dart from pool to pool and after a moment, before he could get too far away, resumed his unhurried stroll down the beach with him.

He did understand his little brother and he appreciated his fascination with all things sea and he would help him reach those places that he loved.

Latin bounced down the beach towards him and Virgil grinned.

Ten minutes later. “Ooh, look, Virg, it is just like a miniature box jellyfish!”

Wha-?

Virgil ran.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #wee!tracys #FishTank #nuttyfic reblog #one of my favs #didn't write today but hopefully tomorrow #::hugs::

[nancywheeeler]

this is a ridiculous number of questions so you don’t have to answer them all if you don’t want to but i always wanna know more about “believe in me, as i believe in you” so: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8 9 11 + tell me about why there’s a nosebleed motif!

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

i explored bits and pieces of colin hughes's Deal in previous fics (the closest to also be on a full-on character study is macaroni & cheese for the young athlete's soul) but it wasn't enough. it is never enough where colin hughes is concerned. i wanted to dig into things we probably won't have addressed in a (potential) coming out arc in S3 and follow up on some of his devastating one-liners (the poor man got a box of his grandmother's shit left to him in her will after he being relegated with his home team at 18!!!) originally, i was only going follow Colin's childhood and career chronologically through Ted joining Richmond because i wanted the fic to be evergreen come S3, but it would have been a massive bummer. i opted instead for the past / present structure to show how far colin has come since we met him in S1 and how much farther he can still go heading into the final season!

2: What scene did you first put down?

for once, i’m pretty sure i wrote the opening scene first! the opening line—“He was five years old when he first kicked a football”—then set up how i would open the other past sections by age / major event.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

“The hook-up currently en route had told him, with pride, he had never seen a minute of a football match willingly. The stupid irony is that makes Colin kind of hate him.” from a scene that had to be in the fic, even if it hurts my heart. just the pain of having two major parts of your life feel completely irreconcilable.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“Any time I’m at a museum, I’m just blown away by how many different ways someone can paint a sunset or the ocean. It’d be boring if everyone painted them the same.” He finally steps into the locker room and stops just in front of Colin, his face as impassive as ever but not unkind. “And it wouldn’t just be boring,” he says, placing a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “We’d be missing a lot. The museum would cease to function like it’s supposed to.”

i really liked writing the above as a response to nate’s painter metaphor to colin in S2. not everyone is going to be picasso or gauguin! and a team full of dani’s and jamie’s would be a total disaster! as beard said, it would cease to function. also, beard is the only person who heard what nate said to colin directly and given how brutal it was, i wanted a scene where beard implied, “hey you know that was all bullshit right?” without it devolving into “you’re just as good / important as jamie and dani!” because honestly colin isn’t and he knows it but he’s still a vital member of the team and deserves to hear that.

5: What part was hardest to write?

the present sections!!! partly because they were dialogue-heavy scenes with characters who have very strong voices (...writing roy kent intimidates me so much...) and partly because i was worried they’d just be kinda boring since the fic isn’t really plot-forward. i hope there was enough variety to make them interesting!

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

i had used a similar past / present structure in my skull island fic, nothing’s gonna change my world, and that was the closest i had come to writing a character study. but this is the first fic where i was really trying to shade in details of a character’s backstory using what canon has given us. shout out to casey for calling colin a one-liner delivery machine, that lives in my head rent free and it’s so true, and every one-liner makes me want to write a ten page essay. again, this is a man who had his grandmother stop talking to him when he was eighteen. he makes every single instagram post about welsh independence. his mantra is “i am a strong and capable man. i am not a piece of shit.” he is the only player we see going talking to dr. sharon more than once. this background character has layers!

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

not particularly, but the present sections (especially those with ted / beard / roy) are based in things i would really like someone to tell colin next season.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

i did kinda answer this in 1, but there was a version that would have only been the past sections, but that would have been a misery sandwich between two slices of misery bread and our boy deserves some bright spots.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

colin <3 but writing about his experience with relegation, as depressing as it was, and the family fallout was my favorite part. i loved being able to contrast his first experience at cardiff—being so young, feeling like he let his family and team down, the aftermath of then picking up and leaving his home for london—with his experience at richmond and, even though there’s still a lot of disappointment, he’s older and he actually likes the people he’s playing with and the management he’s working under and how being in an environment where he feels protected and supported might eventually lead him to feel comfortable coming out, if not publicly than at least privately to the team. a little nugget i love in the final scene is colin deciding not to shield his phone screen while showing sam something even if it means sam sees the grindr icon and puts two and two together (though sam, bestie beloved, would probably not lol). but it’s about not having to guard himself from people he loves!

annnnnnd the nose bleed motif.

so, when i wrote the opening scene, this line: “His ma used to show anybody the least bit interested photos of him in a Cardiff City kit, size nothing, covered in spaghetti sauce in the dribbled pattern of a bloody nose” didn’t originally have the last part.

i then went along writing and finished the scene where colin gets injured in the present via giving himself a bloody nose during a game. later, while i was doing an edit of the opening scene, i added that bit about spaghetti sauce and really liked the line but realized “wait it’s kind of weird and repetitive to have this and a whole scene about a bloody nose.....unless......”

so, i began adding references to bloody noses in other sections (colin worried the first boy he kissed will punch him, specifically in the nose, his nan and grandad only being able to afford nosebleed seats at cardiff matches when they first met, etc.) it’s a nod to colin’s S1 role of “guy perpetually being injured” but i also like that the nosebleeds could be tied to many different aspects of colin’s life i was exploring (how he feels like he’s always the one fucking up, how he’s kind of a mess, how he’s scared of what would happen if he was ever outed). here’s hoping colin doesn’t suffer any head injuries next season though.

put one of a fic title in my ask + questions about it

#thank you for the questions about our boy!!! #ask #my writing

[hellishcreep101]

CAPTAIN KATSUKI BAKUGOU pt. 1

pairing: Pirate!Bakugou x Mermaid!Reader

warning(s): none

A/N: At this point, I’m just gonna be posting old drafts I’ve had on my phone until I come up with some new ideas. But, anyways, all characters, including the reader, are aged up here. Enjoy~

Far out at sea, down to the deepest spot, there stood the sea-king’s palace, its walls made of coral and tall pointed windows made from the clearest amber. In the palace, lived my father, who had been widowed for years, my grandmother, and my five older sisters, each of us a year apart. My grandmother would tell my sisters and I that on our eighteenth birthday, we would be allowed to venture up to the surface of the ocean and watch as vast ships sail by, where we would see cities filled with people. As the years passed, watching each of my sisters leave to go up to the surface, it was finally my turn, for I was now eighteen.

But, my father had announced that I wouldn’t be going up to the surface like my sisters did, and instead had bigger things planned for me. I was to be betrothed to another prince in three days. I refused to accept my father’s demands and wanted to see the human world. Sadly, my efforts to change my father’s mind were to no avail. He then offered me a deal. If I were able to find true love within the three days, he would call off the wedding. But, if I were to fail, I was to be married off to whomever my father chose to be the perfect fit for me. Upset by this, I decided to swim away from home, where I came across a small hut shrouded by large amounts of seaweed that belonged to an old witch.

Upon arrival, I was met by the witch herself, where I bargained for a spell that would turn me into a human and be able to explore the world above, and hopefully find true love. The witch then gave me an elixir that would change my tail into legs by day, but couldn’t be touched by water, for my legs would turn back into a tail. What I offered the witch in return was a pendant left by my mother before she died, with our family crest engraved on it. With that, the witch told me to venture to the surface of the nearby kingdom before sunrise, swim up to shore and sit there, then take the elixir. After that, my tail would spit into what humans call “a nice pair of legs”. But, she warned me to back away from the water immediately if I didn’t want my tail to reappear. As the witch finished explaining what I had to do, I traded my pendant for the elixir and thanked her.

I recalled my grandmother mentioning a kingdom not too far from home resided nearby, where one of my sisters said to have known the identity of one of the people who lived there. The young prince, Shoto Todoroki. Upon reaching the prince’s palace, the sun had not yet appeared and I made my way up to the sandy shore where I took the elixir, the moon shone wonderfully clearly. I then downed the fiery sharp drink, and I suddenly felt woozy. After that, I was put to sleep on the beach. When the sun shone over the sea, I woke up to my head hurting, but right in front of me stood the prince, as handsome as ever.

He had unusual hair. One I have never seen before in my life. On one side, it was as white as the sea foam, and the other was a vibrant red. His eyes were two different colors, too. But, they were two of the most beautiful colors I ever laid my eyes upon. They were fixed on me, and my (e/c) ones wandered down to my tail, only to find that it was no longer there and they were replaced with legs as soft as silk, but felt exposed as I was bare naked. As the prince asked who I was and how I came to be there, I couldn’t tell him about what I truly was. So instead, I lied and said that I was involved in a terrible shipwreck during a storm, and that the crew I was with had all died. After that, he quickly carried me to his palace and I was then pampered as I would be at home, but as a human.

Soon, I felt as if I was becoming closer to the prince. He told me all about himself and what he liked to do, told me stories about pirates that even I have heard as a child, and we both sang songs we were familiar with from childhood. He even trusted me enough to tell me about his personal life, such as his father being cruel to him and his siblings, even their mother. He also mentioned that he was involved in a shipwreck on his birthday and was saved by someone, unaware that the person who saved him that fateful evening was me.

If he trusts me enough to tell me this information, then maybe…

“Prince Shoto, I-“ I started, but he cut me off with a light chuckle.

“I told you, just call me Shoto.” He replied. I nodded in response.

“Shoto. I have something to tell you, as well.” I said to him.

“What is it?” He asked. Without a word, I took his hand in mine and guided him to the same place he found me when we first met.

“Stay right here.” I said, letting go of his hand. I backed away and began stripping myself from the nightgown I had on. Shoto became a stuttering mess as his cheeks grew red.

“Y-Y/N, what on earth are you doing?!” He frantically averted his eyes.

“I promise you, I didn’t bring you here to seduce you. Please, calm yourself.” I assured him. “This is the spot where you found me that day. I brought you here because I have something to show you.” Once my nightgown was removed, I began backing away from Shoto.

“Within the week I have gotten to know you, you have shown me nothing but kindness, both you and your servants. And I am more than grateful for that. You’ve even trusted me enough to tell me how your family was treated by your father. I am sorry you all had to go through that, especially you and your mother. Truly, I am. But, what I am about to tell you, you cannot tell anyone else.”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He asked. With every step, I neared the water.

“I haven’t been fully truthful with you, Shoto. And I apologize. But, you are very important to me. I want to tell you that I am in love with you, Prince Shoto. And I hope you won’t hate me for who I am when I reveal myself.” With that, I felt the cold water touch my feet, and a tingling sensation washed through my legs. Suddenly, I lost balance and lowered my eyes to see that my tail has returned. I looked up at Shoto, whose grey and blue eyes were widened in shock.

“My father is the King of the sea, and I’m one of his six daughters. The youngest. I swam away from home because I am to be wedded to a prince in three days. My father offered that if I were to find true love within those three days, he would call off the wedding. But, if I failed, I would have no choice but to marry whoever my father chose to be my husband. I turned to an old witch and asked for a spell that would grant me the ability to turn into a human. In exchange for a pendant given to me by my mother, she gave me an elixir that would turn me human, but would change me back if my legs were to touch water, and change into legs once more when dry. I was in no shipwreck, and I was with no crew. But, I am the one who saved you from drowning the night of your birthday. I am but a harmless sea creature, seeking love and acceptance.” I looked away. “I hope this doesn’t change the way you view me, Shoto. But, know that I am very much in love with you and that you are very important to me. I hope you feel the same way, despite what I am…”

“Y/N…” Shoto said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you feel the same way about me, Shoto?” I asked, looking at him in desperately. He let out a sigh and picked up my nightgown from the sand.

“Please put your clothes back on. It’s late and we need to rest. This is a lot to take in right now.” He simply said, a stoic expression on his face. I felt my heart drop as I crawled away from the water, feeling my tail quickly dry and dissolve into sea foam, revealing my legs once again. After that, Shoto handed me my nightgown while averting his eyes as to give me privacy. Once I was fully clothed again, he began making his way back to the palace. I lowered my head and trailed behind him, none of us saying a word. That night, I wasn’t able to get any sleep, and began to cry.

He doesn’t feel the same way…

On the third and final day, I woke up to the sound of Shoto’s voice, along with another. Curiously, I exited my bedroom and made my way down the stairs. I hid behind one of the pillars as to not be seen by anyone, and saw Shoto with one of the servants. Midoriya, if I’m correct. There was another girl whom I’ve never met standing beside Shoto with her arms linked around his. Her hair was tied back into a spiky ponytail with a large strand hanging from the side of her beautiful face. She wore an elegant red dress that dropped to the floor and fitted her figure quite well.

“So, Prince Shoto. It appears you’ve finally made your decision?” Midoriya asked.

“Yes, I have.” He replied. “I have decided to take Princess Yayorozu’s hand in marriage.” Midoriya nodded in response.

“I see. I will let your father know about the news and within a few days time—“

“I would like to have the wedding this afternoon.” Shoto demanded. Midoriya gave him a questioning look.

“B-but, your Highness. These kind of things take time to plan.” The boy insisted.

“This afternoon, Midoriya. At sunset.” Shoto replied, the same stoic expression painted on his face like the night before. The green-haired boy let out a sigh, giving the prince a worried look.

“Very well, your Highness. As you wish.” With that, he left the two alone to announce the wedding preparations. I felt tears stream down my face as I ran back to my room, careful not to make it aware that I was watching.

Hours had passed and the wedding already began. I watched from my bedroom window as Yayorozu walked down the isle, clad in the most beautiful wedding dress I’d ever seen.

I should be wearing that dress.

I watched as the music came to an end and the princess made it to Shoto’s side. The man in front of them began to welcome everyone who had come to the wedding and started the readings.

I should be the one by his side.

My fists clenched as they faced each other and sealed their marriage with a kiss, making them officially married. The audience applauded as the newly wedded couple made their way down the isle hand in hand, waving as they passed by.

I should be the one married to him!

The crowd continued to applaud the couple walking past as they followed them into the dock where the wedding ship was, ready to set sail. As they boarded, the crowd did the same and the ship prepared to move.

SHOTO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MINE!

Once everyone was onboard, the ship took off, leaving only me behind at the palace. I continued to watch from my window as the ship sailed farther away from the palace into the sunset. Fresh tears fell from my eyes and I unclenched my fists, weeping softly.

He could never love someone like me…

The moon gleamed brightly into the night. I stood in front of the water, barefoot and wearing the same dress Shoto had given me when we first met. I began walking towards the water, feeling the same tingling sensation as before, and soon after, my tail reappeared once again. But, I did not return to shore and swam towards the wedding ship. Once there, I swam up to the cabin window where I believed Shoto and Yayorozu were. I looked through the mirror-clear window and saw that they were both asleep in each other’s arms. It angered me that I wasn’t the one he proposed to, but it saddened me that he could never love someone like me. I could never bring myself to hate the person that cared for me. I loved him too much to do so.

He’s better off being married to a real human. Not a creature with a fish’s tail.

With one final glance, I whispered my last goodbye and swam off into the depths of the sea, swimming wherever the current took me. After what seemed like a few days, I continuously swam further and further away, ending up in the middle of nowhere.

I can’t stay at the palace any longer and be reminded of Shoto’s recent marriage to the Princess, but…I can’t go back home and be married off to some spoiled squid chosen by my father. This is pointless…

Suddenly, a large net comes down over me. Frightened, I swim away as fast as I could, but was caught. With a quick swoop, I was brought up to the surface. My eyes fell upon a vast galleon. Bigger than any other galleon I’d ever seen. It had sails as black as night and a torn up flag with a rather intimidating skull on it. I softly gasped and struggled to escape the net, but was soon hovering over a group of men cheering and clamoring. They were all decorated with pistols and swords and many trinkets upon their past adventures. I was lowered onto the deck, still struggling to escape the netted contraption.

“Look at what we have ‘ere, boys! We’ve just caught ourselves a real live mermaid!” A man upon to the crew said, making the others cheer and laugh at their latest catch. The same man reached out to touch me, but I let out a hiss and nearly bit off his hand. The guy retracted his arm and laughed.

“Careful, men. She’s a feisty one!” He jeered.

“HEY!”

The crew went dead silent and turned their heads towards the booming, gruff voice. I turned to see a young man of average height, fair skin tone, and spiky ash blonde hair. He was also adorned by trinkets and beads here and there and wore a faded tricots hat with two decorated feathers on it. What really caught my attention were his fiery vermilion eyes glowering at everyone.

I assume he’s the captain of this horrid establishment.

He was accompanied by three other men and two women behind him, also looking down at the crew. Each of them had unusually colorful hair, kind of like Prince Shoto. One of the men had a black streak on their golden bangs, and there was a vivacious young woman with rather pink skin and hair, and her eyes were pitch black with yellow irises.

“What the hell are you bilge-sucking bastards yelling for?” He stepped down the stairs from the deck, his boots clicking against the creaking floorboards. The men then made way for the captain as he stood over me before crouching down to my level to get a closer look.

“Well, you’re an odd fish to catch.” He said.

Suddenly, I felt my tail becoming dry and within seconds, sea foam began to form over it and revealed my legs once again. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself to cover up the fact that I was naked in front of a bunch of pirates. The men gasped at the sudden change and backed away from me. With a click of the captain’s tongue, he grinned.

“So, what exactly are you, huh? Some kind of ungodly water spirit I’ve never heard of?” The captain’s fiery eyes roamed over me, looking at the many scales that dimly shimmered across my skin. I grimaced and bared my teeth at the captain.

“What do you care?” I hissed, backing away. The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t want some creature killing me or my crew in our sleep. Something that the creatures of the sea like to do.” The captain’s eyes met mine, steel cold. With that, he stood up, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Kirishima, Dunce Face. Take this fish to the brig.”

“Come on, Captain. Why’d you have to call me that?” The one the captain called “Dunce Face” whined.

“THAT’S ‘CAUSE YOU ARE ONE, YOU IDIOT!” The captain yelled.

“Calm yourself, will you, Captain? Come on, Kaminari.” The redhead known as Kirishima told him, taking off his long brown coat as the other boy, Kaminari, removed the net from me. Kirishima came to my side to wrap his coat around me, but I back away from him and narrowed my eyes.

“Easy, there. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He assured. I relaxed my shoulders and allowed him to offer me his coat.

“Oi, Fish Tail. Since you’re able to sprout legs just like that, I’m sure you can walk. So, get to it!” The captain ordered, his arms crossed. I slowly rose to my feet and the two men escorted me to a door that led below the main deck. Once there, they put me into a cell and locked me in.

“I’m sure Mina will have something for you to wear. In the meantime, keep my coat for now so you won’t freeze to death.” Kirishima said. With that, the two made their way back up to the main deck and I was left alone in the cold cell. I sighed as I backed away into the corner, pulling the warm coat closer to me and letting out a long sigh.

Can things get any worse than this?

#bakugou x y/n #mermaid au #bnha pirate au #mina ashido #sero hanta #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero fic