#maybe it's an upward spiral and it feels like i'm in the same place where i started because i'm working through layers and it takes time

[vagueandominousvibes]

For the ask game, orchid and chamomile?

Hi! I was hoping someone would say orchid, purely because the one I bought back in October has been blooming since New Year’s!! (It’s got three flowers!!! and one bud still to open!!!)

Orchid ⇢ What’s a song you consider to be perfect?

I’ve got to say ‘Spanish Train’ by Chris de Burgh, who’s the only artist I’ve ever seen live (a friend and I went to see him in uni, were the only 20-something-olds in a horde of 50-and-older, and we had a fantastic time). ‘Spanish Train’ is one of those songs dad and I would blast in the living room after midnight, when we were home alone, or in the car when the speakers were working, and I absolutely love the alternations between the mellow spoken parts and the parts where de Burgh just goes all out. 

The answer to the second question got kind of long, so I’ve hidden it in the ‘Keep reading’.

Chamomile ⇢ What were you like when you were younger? Do you think you’ve changed a lot?

I don’t know how much I’ve talked about it here, but I’ve for a long time been fascinated by how people change. You see it in my own fanfics (Arn’s arc in Just Close Your Eyes) and in some of my favourite novels (Apollo in The Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan). I’ve also grown up with a gestalt psychotherapist for a parent, which ... yeah. I suspect I was a bit of a lab rat growing up. At least mum used to tell me she studied psychotherapy to Help Me. (In her book, queerness and autism require Help.)

My own fascinating with change comes from, I think, putting a lot of effort into changing myself during my years in uni. For about four years, about fifty percent of my time was spent observing myself, reflecting on my behaviour, and figuring out Who I Was. What I discovered was that Baby Me (0–4) and Young Adult Me (20–25) were surprisingly similar (excited by everyday things, enjoyed crafts and baking, and loved music and aesthetic designs). Baby Me grew up on a small seaside farm above the Polar Circle, and in those four years, I realised I wanted to return to that farm — to live there, nurture it, and run writing retreats there. It’ll take a lot of work to get the finances to do so, but as long as the farm stands, I’ll return there.

But. Change. 

Between Baby Me and Young Adult Me, there’s Teenage Me (5–19, technically ‘Child & Teenage Me’, but ‘Teenage Me’ for ease), and Teenage Me was not a good person. You know the idea of the Narcissistic Family? It’s the closest description I’ve found to explain the dynamics within my family. Teenage Me had an unfortunate obsession with wanting to make mum proud. As a result, I put others down in passive-aggressive ways and sought to make friends with “the right people” (as implicitly defined by mum: rich cis-het people, ideally white Christian). I was the Golden Child who achieved As and A*s in the majority of my subjects in school, I was always right, I was going to write novels, I was going to become a Professor and an artist, and I was going to have a brilliant future. (Ha. Ha ha. /s)

I’m still not sure how much of that was me and how much was mum, and I think that’s the rule for a lot of Teenage Me’s life: I had no idea where I ended and mum started, in terms of dreams, wants, and hopes. Honestly, it’s something I’m still struggling to untangle.

I like to think I’m moving away from my passive-aggressive ways, and that realising that I myself am not one of “the right people” has done wonders towards learning to value people for who they are rather than what they do and what they have. Setting boundaries is another new experience, and good gods it’s hard. Actually learning my own boundaries and being kind to myself is also really goddamn hard, and I’m still trying to figure out where the lines are between trauma bonding and info-dumping and just talking (is this info-dumping? or am I just talking? I’m answering a question and I have no idea). An unholy combination of depression and anxiety hasn’t made it any better.

That said, writing this today, I’m looking forward to the future. It’s raining outside, but I’ve had a clementine, I’m listening to ‘Champions’ by Kurt Hugo Schneider, and in a few hours I’ve got my first ballet class for beginners — something I’ve only recently worked up the courage to attend. I know I’m in my mid-twenties and that I’ve got years to grow and learn ahead of me. One day, I’ll reach a point of grounded self-assuredness. The depression and anxiety might never go away completely, and there are people I doubt will completely forgive me, but that’s part of growing and learning. It is for me to remember that every tree can be transplanted into better soil, and that there’s a sun above.

#kalh answers #cw narcissism #i'm honestly not even sure if i actually answered the question? #or if i talked in circles? #maybe it's an upward spiral and it feels like i'm in the same place where i started because i'm working through layers and it takes time #because i need to revisit thoughts and events again and again to fully process them #at least my partner thinks i'm a good person and i trust he wouldn't say that if he didn't genuinely believe so #so that's something to hold on to #thank you for the ask <3

[fox-flux]

the item-to-UI spiral

i just recently touched up this animation (sorry for the dropped frames):

[EDIT OH MY GOD LOL NO ONE TOLD ME IT WASN'T ANIMATING, IT'S THE WHOLE POINT!! OF THE POST!!]

and i wrote about how it works on cohost so i'm crossposting here and hoping tumblr doesn't chew my markdown up too badly!

now, i admit upfront: i did zero research on this. maybe there is a cool clever way to do a parametric spiral that isn't this. my suspicion is that any "simpler" alternative would be a trip through the polar plane and involve a bunch of trig, and we're game developers here, so we do everything with vectors god dammit

the problem

here is what i decided i want from the beginning:

when you pick up the key (or a handful of other items, but mainly the key), it animates moving smoothly into the UI.

the motion should not be a straight line, because that's boring.

the ideal seems to be a sort of spiral around and outwards from the player, which ⓐ feels like a congratulatory motion of "sparkly thing swirling around you" and ⓑ would still roughly end in a straight shot towards the final position in the UI, which is good as a dramatic finish to a motion.

(i'm pretty sure i did not know that i wanted a spiral from the beginning; it sort of emerged as an obvious thing to try. i first added this ages ago though so i'm not completely sure)

so how do we do a spiral if we don't want to use trig? my answer was to make this bad boy parametric. you know, that thing where you have x(t) and y(t) separately, and t is a hidden time variable. but i don't want to control x and y here; that would make everything radically different depending on where the key starts. so i went for a different coordinate system:

the original position of the key is the origin, and the final resting place in the UI is the point (0, 1). (note that as part of the UI, the animation happens in screen space, not world space; i immediately subtract the key's position from the camera offset and only work in screen coordinates from then on.)

to avoid confusion with screen or world coordinates, let's call these new axes u and v, where u is the perpendicular axis and v is the orthogonal axis (the one pointing towards the destination). though it doesn't really matter which is which since i'm about to treat them separately.

converting from uv back to screen coordinates is easy; one unit of v is the original delta vector, dest - source. one unit of u is a vector perpendicular to that, which is trivial to compute (swap the coordinates and negate one of them). so screen coordinates are

u * delta:perpendicular() + v * delta

[seriously? there's no, just, regular monospace text styling? —ed]

which is like no effort at all. so now i can think in terms of u and v and not even worry about the screen, or the distance, or anything except the shape of the animation! that's great. and now i'm in a good place to split this messy 2D problem into two 1D problems.

the orthogonal axis

first i want to think about the key's movement directly towards the UI. as an Artist™, i have a tenuous grasp of a few wisps of animation basics, so my instinct is to make this feel real good by adding a little anticipation. that means a "wind-up", where the key actually starts out moving away from the UI. i think this adds emphasis because ⓐ "backwards to forwards" is a more dramatic change than "still to forwards" and ⓑ backing up first means the important part of the motion now covers a greater distance. (the forwards motion also now has to be faster to cover the distance in the same amount of time, which feels more dramatic.)

so how do i do that? i am but a simple fox, and this is a platformer, so there can only be one answer for me: a parabola. essentially it's like the key is doing a jump off of a cliff and landing on the ground below. except, you know, upwards.

i don't need to model this like physics, though; i already know a lot about the parabola i want, so i can jump directly to expressing it as a function, v(t) = at² + bt + c.

i know that at time t = 0, the key is at its starting position, i.e., 0. so v(0) = 0, which swiftly implies that c = 0.

i don't know how long the animation should be yet, but i might want to change that later anyway. so i'll just say the key reaches its endpoint at t = 1 and scale it later if i want to. that means v(1) = 1 (remember, the destination is 1 unit away, because i decided it is), so a + b = 1. i don't want to plug that in quite yet because it makes the function slightly messier, but i'll keep it in mind; as soon as i know what either a or b actually is, i can find the other very easily.

that's already taken care of two of my coefficients. what about the third? i don't have a third constraint, so it can be whatever i want. but a and b don't directly correspond to any obvious property of the behavior here. i'd like something intuitive that i can adjust.

i think a natural question is to ask how far back the key winds up. i'll call that h, since it's the maximum height of the arc. or, uh, maximum... un... height. remember, it should be a negative fraction of the total distance, since it's a movement away from the target, 1.

how does h actually fit into my parabola, though? well, it's the v-value of the parabola's local minimum. there's an expression for that, but i always forget what it is. i do know (and can readily derive) that the t-value of that point is −b/2a, so i can just plug that in:

v(t) = at² + bt v(−b/2a) = a(−b/2a)² + b(−b/2a) = a(b²/4a²) − b²/2a = b²/4a − b²/2a = −b²/4a

ah, so h = −b²/4a. but i know h, and i want to find a and b. luckily i know how to express a in terms of b, which turns this into a quadratic:

h = −b²/4a h = −b²/4(1 - b) 4h − 4hb = −b² b² − 4hb + 4h = 0 b = (4h ± √(16h² − 16h)) / 2 b = (4h ± 4√(h² − h)) / 2 b = 2 · (h ± √(h² − h))

hmm. do i want the + or − there? if you graph an example, you'll find that the difference is that one solution has the peak happen before t = 0, which is... not helpful here.

i can distinguish them by noticing that i want the slope to be negative at t = 0, since the key should start out moving backwards. that's given by v'(t) = 2at + b, which at t = 0 is just b. how convenient! so b should be negative, which forces using the − solution. note that this is guaranteed to be negative as long as h is; h² is less than h² − h for negative h, so h will be less than √(h² − h).

now i have b, and that gives me a. and i have a parabola, as well as an extra parameter h that i can play with, even dynamically if i want.

the perpendicular axis

this has some nice oomph to it, but it's still fairly obvious that this is movement along a straight line. so now i can think about how to move perpendicularly, at the same time. it's nice to have this separate, because no matter what i do here, it will not affect the impact of the original parabola.

spirals are appealing, and this animation just feels like it wants a spiral. i'll give it a try, why not.

i don't care about any formal definition of what a spiral is. i just want to go roughly around the player. i'm already doing that in one dimension: the key moves to one side of the player, then the other. to get something spiral-like, i just have to do that a second time.

already i have several constraints falling into place:

u(0) = 0, because the key starts out with no perpendicular displacement

u(1) = 0, because the key also ends with no perpendicular displacement

between 0 and 1, u(t) takes on positive values for a while, and also negative values for a while

...which implies that there is a third zero somewhere in there

now, this sort of sounds like a wave, right? it goes up, then down. (or maybe down, then up; it doesn't seem to matter.) and originally, i used a sine wave here. but that always looked a bit wonky to me, and one of the big things i changed in this recent touch-up was to not do that. here's why.

a very good question to ask is, when should u be zero? that is, when should it cross back through the path of the player? and i think for maximum impact and maximum spirality, there is only one possible answer: at the peak of the wind-up. otherwise the animation has different kinds of extremes happening at different times for the same movement, and that's probably why the sine approach looked wonky.

when is the peak of the wind-up, though? i already know that — it's −b/2a. i don't know what that is, exactly, since those coefficients are based on some other thing... but i can figure it out, which is good enough, so i don't actually care about its value. just call the whole thing s, where s is mathematics shorthand for "it's a number but i don't have a good name for it and t is already something else".

and this is what prompted me to realize that a sine wave is not such a great idea. sine waves like to repeat, which means each wave is the same length. but i have two waves here: one from 0 to s, and one from s to 1. it seems unlikely that they are exactly the same size. i could fuss with the sine wave to make it work, but surely there's a simpler approach here.

and there is! remember, i don't care whether the function repeats. i only care what it does between 0 and 1. outside of that range, it can do whatever the hell it wants. so what do i need sine for? after coming up with that quadratic function, i can immediately think of one type of curve that has both a peak and a valley: a cubic.

which, at last, brings me back to my original question [upthread on cohost]: just how do i find a cubic that's zero at three specific points? i can plug them in but then i have three equations and four variables, which sounds annoying—

and then i remembered how algebra works, so

u(t) = t · (t - s) · (t - 1)

and that's it.

well, almost. there is also one free parameter here, because i can multiply the whole thing by a constant without changing the zeroes.

u(t) = ct · (t - s) · (t - 1)

the question is, what should that constant be? it controls how high the peaks are, i.e. the "width" of the spiral. but i can't get a good sense of it without figuring out what the heights of the peaks are.

unfortunately it turns out the heights of those peaks are fucking nightmarish hellscapes of square roots. so at this point i finally take off my mathematician hat and put my game developer hat back on.

i don't actually care about the heights of the peaks. i just want the animation to look good.

the maximum heights seem to happen when s = ½. i don't have a mathematical basis for this (though there are interesting properties of cubics that could probably help); i just tried it on wolfram alpha and noticed that the peaks are both shallower than this maximum value if s is anything else.

that maximum height is 4/27 (thank u again wolfram alpha), which is roughly 0.15. of course as already mentioned, s is very unlikely to be ½ (in fact it's impossible, which you can convince yourself of if you think about v in terms of projectile motion), so the height in practice will be even smaller than this.

a good spiral is kinda circle-y, so the range should probably be closer to, like, 1

i guess i'll multiply it by 6 or something. hmm, maybe 8. yeah 8 looks better. 12 is too much

and that gets me my spiral. the only other detail i skipped is that i reverse the direction of the spiral (just by negating the perpendicular part) depending on which side of the screen the key starts on.

the final result

trimmed down to minimize the syntax cruft and leave just the math part:

h = -1 b = 2 * (h - sqrt(h*h - h)) a = 1 - b s = -1/2 * b / a t = time / ttl ortho = t * (a * t + b) perp = 8 * t * (t - 1) * (t - s) delta = dest - source sprite:draw_at(source + delta * ortho + perp_sign * perp * delta:perpendicular())

also sorry

this is the kind of post that is just begging for some graphs and diagrams and stuff, but i am tired and there is just slightly too much friction on putting images inline on cohost [for now... —ed]

#fox flux #floraverse #gamedev #indiedev

[the-era-of-shadow]

Whispers in The Dark

Written by Ash Rose

Content Warnings:

Swearing, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, victim blaming

Summary:

Even a few days after the battle in Starlight City, Whisper can’t keep her mind off of its events and how they might continue to affect her long afterwards. So she decided to leave the Sky Patrol for a bit and get some fresh air back in Spiral Hill. This plan seems to be going well for her in terms of alleviating her stress - that is, until she’s confronted by a familiar, yet unknown person, who seems to know what Whisper’s been through. Whether or not the person liked the outcome of Whisper’s version of events, however, is a beast onto its own.

Notes:

So I??? Wrote a whole fic in a single day??? Like it's 2020 all over again??? And like yeah it was basically In A Day because last night as I was going to bed was when the idea for this story came to me - then it immediately begged me to write it this morning, and then I was already planning to have our beta reader over so yeah. I'm honestly as shocked as you probably are.

It had been a couple of days since the fight that had occurred in Starlight City, right in front of the now destroyed Doctor Clysdale’s Wisp Care Clinic. Despite that, however, Whisper’s mind felt like it had been frozen in time, still standing in front of that awful clinic, ready to fight to get her wisps back.

But she never did.

The other Freedom Trainees and the Freedom Fighters that had been there with her that morning were able to verify through witness that her wisps had fortunately not been crushed when the clinic was destroyed. But they were still in the hands of those alien scum. 

From the information given to them by Knuckles and Amy, Whisper gleaned some sort of understanding as to just how dangerous the person she had briefly known as “Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale” really was, and with it, she had come to an understanding that she would have no success in trying to retrieve her wisps on her own. The Freedom Fighters were trying their best to track down the Black Arms, but wherever it was that they were hiding now, it was quite hard to find. 

On this particular October morning, it had all just become too much for Whisper. She wanted so badly to step away from it all and have a day where she didn’t have to be constantly thinking about these things.

“Being here on the Sky Patrol probably doesn’t help things much.” Lux figured.

“Yeah. I mean, I feel so honored to be waking up each morning in this place with all the people I admire, but I get how the same couldn’t really be said for you.” Tangle added. Jewel gave Tangle a bit of a stink eye for the way that she worded her point, which Whisper noticed.

“I get it, I really do… You dreamed of this for so long… And I wanna have that mindset too… It’s just… The wisps…” Whisper replied, lying down on the bed of the room the Freedom Trainees had congregated in - maybe it was Jewel’s? Or maybe it was Amy’s? Whisper honestly couldn’t remember, with everything else going on in her head and all.

“Well yeah, of course, but what we went through back there was rather traumatic, especially for you.” Jewel pointed out, to which the others agreed to.

“And that shit sticks to you like a wad of gum on the bottom side of your shoe.” Amy remarked.

“Trust me, I’ve done this song and dance before… Well, not exactly one to one, but you get what I mean…” Whisper assured. 

“Well if that’s the case, what do ya usually do when life hits ya like a semi truck?” Lux inquired in between sips of a can of wild cherry Chaos Cola.

“Something that you don’t need the wisps with you to do.” Jewel added softly.

“Well… I usually go out for a walk and listen to the songs I have on my MP3 player…” Whisper answered, sitting back upwards.

“No way! That’s what I do when life gets me down too!” Tangle exclaimed loudly.

“I know you do, you’ve told me so quite a few times over the two years we’ve known each other…” Whisper remarked with a soft loving smile.

“I’d say that’s a pretty good idea, actually! You’d be able to step out of the Sky Patrol, which could be symbolic of you stepping out of the situation, and you could just be alone with your music instead of having to overhear us constantly remind you of what happened as we try to find the Black Arms!” Amy said, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in. “I’ll ask Sally to drop you off somewhere for a bit and when you’re ready to come back you can give one of us a call!” She continued as she made her way to the door.

“Can it be Spiral Hill? I’m the most familiar with being there…” Whisper interjected just as Amy was about to leave.

“Oh, of course!” Amy replied.

Whisper could immediately feel a bit of relief as she stepped off of the Sky Patrol and stepped into the streets of Spiral Hill. It felt nice to be back home, even for a little bit. It felt like a proper conclusion to the conflict in a sense. But she knew how she could make herself feel even better.

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♪Now Playing: The Middle by Jimmy Eat World♪

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There was a time before she had her wisps that she had gone through an event of turmoil. In fact, Whisper’s life had always had something negative going on in it, like she had been cursed from birth. But things used to not be so grand.

The first time Whisper ever went through something upsetting was rather trivial in fact, especially compared to what the future had in store for her. Back before the Robotnik Empire had nearly the amount of power that it came to have, back when Whisper was still in public school, she had been a victim of bullying. She was singled out as a mobian in a school mostly populated by humans. It made her feel isolated and alone, and made her not want to go to school anymore. So of course, she told her parents, since this was also while her parents were still around.

Specifically, she had told her dad when he had picked her up from school one day. Of course, her dad was saddened to hear that his merely six year old daughter was being made fun of so badly. 

“You know, I heard this song recently on the radio and thought it was pretty good, so I found it online and downloaded it. I think it might speak to you.”

He had said to her as he connected his MP3 player to the car’s radio, he was good at technology like that. At first Whisper thought it’d be silly to think that a song could be the answer to her problems, but as the song played on as he drove them home, it inspired her. From that moment onward she no longer cared about what other people had to say about her, only worrying about doing her best at life. Of course, it’s hard to do her best when only a few weeks after that moment, her parents had been captured by the Robotnik Empire during an ambush, leaving her orphaned, and then a few years later being recruited into a vigilante group similar to the Freedom Fighters then imploded when one of its members sold them out to the Empire, once again leaving her the sole survivor, and then of course losing her wisps a few days ago. But she tried her best to at least keep the mindset, and listening to that very same song that her dad had played on the ride home ten years ago helped remind her of that. 

But the song was relatively short, only two minutes and forty-five seconds long, so soon enough, she had to move on to another song. 

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♪Now Playing: I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace♪

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“Seriously? This song?” Whisper wondered to herself.

It wasn’t like she disliked this song. No, she loved it. She loved Three Days Grace, and nu metal in general. She even remembered Tangle playfully teasing her for it when Whisper first brought it up. 

“Wow! You really are as much of an angsty teenager as you look!” She had said. Whisper knew even back then that she had meant no harm from it - that’s just how Tangle is. She says things in not the most tactful of ways, but she always means well by it.

But with this song playing right after the last one was just. Such an odd coincidence. It was like her shuffle was trying to paint the story of her life thus far. Because of course, this song reminded her of the time she had spent with her first team of vigilante heroes, the Diamond Cutters. Not all of them, of course. Most of them were great people. It specifically reminded her of one person in particular - the one who had sold the rest out just so he could “guarantee” that he’d be the victorious one in the end.

Mimic.

It was true, she really did hate everything about him. Honestly, even back then she kinda did. Whisper never really trusted Mimic all too much, always having a bad feeling about him. But she was only around ten years old at the time, while everyone else was a late teenager or young adult, or even more or less just a regular adult with Mimic himself being twenty five back then, so no one took her suspicions seriously. Honestly, looking back, it was kinda insane how she ended up in a team like that. 

But the important part was that Mimic was playing double agent at that time, secretly being an employee of the Robotnik Empire. He had led the rest of the team to certain death - all except for Whisper, and the wisps that the Diamond Cutters had used as the source of their abilities. That’s when her hatred of him had truly been cemented. That’s when she wondered why she had ever even loved him in the first place - why she used to look up to him.

… Dammit, now she’s thinking about the wisps again.

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♪Now Playing: Gone Forever by Three Days Grace♪

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After the Diamond Cutters had been dissolved, so to speak, Whisper lived out on the streets with the wisps. It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t much of anything really. But even though her life seemed pretty miserable at that point, at least Mimic was out of it - though he certainly tried to track her down and kill her many times. 

She grew to distrust most people, to just rely on herself and the wisps - she knew that she could at least trust that. She also put a lot of trust into the Freedom Fighters, who only grew stronger by the day, fighting off the very Empire that had ruined her life. She never really liked to admit it, but she did very much admire them, even to the level that Tangle did. They were saviors in her eyes.

Sometimes she’d wonder if she would one day come across one of the Freedom Fighters and they would take her in, kind of like how the Diamond Cutters did, but better. It was honestly a fantasy of hers - one that she never imagined would actually happen to her - she was just too unlucky for that.

And yet, she got taken in by them, eventually. Even if she did lose the wisps in the process.

There’s always a catch, isn’t there?

But before that ever happened, she did manage to find somewhere to call home. She had met Tangle and Jewel.

Whisper looked down at the shirt she was wearing, a dark blue graphic t-shirt that read “H.I.T - Heroes in Training 2009”. 

“Guess my playlist isn’t the only coincidence going on today…” She remarked in her head.

It was the shirt she had gotten the same day she had met the two of them, from a yearly competition that was held by the Freedom Fighters. Whisper had entered the competition every year since the one in 2005 - her prowess with the wisp’s abilities and the wispon she had kept with her always secured at least a top five placement for her - which made it a good way to get some money to sustain herself with, since the competition came with cash rewards. She usually didn’t talk much to the other competitors, given her distrust of people. But that year was different.

Tangle had been another one of the competitors that year, and she instantly began to faun over Whisper, fascinated by her wisps and wispon from the very first time that Whisper was on stage that year. At first it made Whisper uncomfortable with just how excitable and in her face Tangle was, hell, she had become paranoid that Tangle was just Mimic in disguise trying to get Whisper into a vulnerable position. But relatively early on into the competition, Whisper let Tangle know about her concerns - to an extent, and to her surprise, Tangle apologized for her behavior and gave Whisper the space that she had asked for. As the competition went on, she opened herself up more to Tangle and her friend Jewel, taken aback by Tangle’s kindness.

When the competition ended, and Tangle and Whisper were the gold and silver winners, Tangle gave Whisper her prize money, saying that Whisper needed it far more than she did, which moved Whisper to tears that night, and just before Jewel’s parents were going to take Jewel and Tangle back home, Whisper found them and asked if she could crash at their place - feeling that she didn’t want to lose the first real people she had come to trust in so long.

And then Whisper never left their place. She had found a new home and family in Tangle and Jewel.

At least she still had them. That was a relief.

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♪Now Playing: Whispers in The Dark by Skillet♪

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But she still wished that she had the wisps still with her. She still felt ashamed that she lost them in the first place. After so long of not trusting anybody thanks to the damage that Mimic had done to her, she had learned to trust again thanks to Jewel and Tangle. She didn’t blame them, she really tried not to, but she still felt angry that she had let her trust be taken advantage of again. It’s not like it was their fault, though. Their trust was taken advantage of just as much as hers was.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Whisper heard a voice say despite the music she had on. 

Whisper looked around for where the voice could have come from, but she didn’t see anyone around, so she just chalked it up to her imagination and kept walking.

“I know how it feels to lose someone like that, I really do.” The voice spoke again.

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♪Now Playing: N/A♪

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“Hello…?” Whisper called out, pausing her music to be able to hear the voice more clearly.

“Hi! You’re Whisper, right?” The voice greeted her, the source of it being revealed to be a jade green fox-like cat mobian that looked to be around the same age as Whisper. She had pastel pink eyes that partially hid behind silver-rimmed glasses, and wore an off the shoulders sweater and a skirt that were various shades of purple-ish pink, the sweater having a graphic of a gear on the chest and sleeves. She had in her hands a hot pink rhythm wispon, likely corresponding to the magenta rhythm wisp by her side.

“Uhm… yeah.” It took her a minute to realize it, but Whisper had seen this girl before. During her walk to the Clysdale Clinic a few days ago, back before the fight, she had seen the girl among a group of friends that all had wisps with them. She remembered how she had been weirdly reminded of the Diamond Cutters by the sight of them, in a way she absolutely hated. Still, she should probably not hold that against the girl.

“Oh, good! Doctor Clysdale had told me about you!” The girl then responded, immediately causing Whisper’s defenses to go up again just as she had started to lower them.

“D-Doctor Clysdale??” Whisper questioned in a panic, instinctively pointing her wispon at the girl.

“Oh, yeah, you two aren’t on the best of terms. I remember that now.” The girl sneered, casually lowering the muzzle of Whisper’s wispon without even a bit of hesitation. The only emotion on her face at that moment, in fact, was annoyance. “Why don’t we forget about them for now? The name’s Gear. I’m the leader of the Starlight City Militia.” She then said, her face returning to the same smile she had before so quickly that it came off as uncanny of her.

“The… Starlight City Militia?” Whisper echoed, a flurry of emotions filling her as she had said them. Concern, confusion and fear, to be exact. “As in.. part of the Mobotropolis Militia Organization established by Sally Acorn and the Acorn Royal Family after the Phantom Ruby War??” 

“That’s the one!” Gear replied. “You have something like that with your friends, don’t you? I don’t think you’re the official Spiral Hill Militia, but something else, right?” 

“The Freedom Trainees. Why are you asking?” Whisper responded, unnerved by how Gear was prying into her life so blatantly after their rocky introduction.

“Just a bit curious, was all.” Gear answered, completely looking past the aggravated and yet shaky tone of Whisper’s voice. “How’d you find yourself in the possession of wisps if you’re not a Militia member?” She then asked.

“You don’t get to know…” Whisper hissed, her concern fading and her fear took over - convinced that this girl must be working for the Black Arms in some way.

“Excuse me?” Gear reacted, her smile disappearing again as a look of utter disdain replaced it. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to someone you just met like that?” She said, chastising her.

“Whisper Lycriah. I’m Whisper Lycriah and I’ll talk to you however I damn well fucking please.” Whisper replied, completely done with acting nice.

“All I did was ask you a simple question. That’s all I did. No wonder you refused Doctor Clysdale’s guidance, you ungrateful bitch.” Gear snapped. Yeah, that’s it. Whisper was certain that this chick was bad news.

“I don’t think I’d call myself “ungrateful”, personally. I actually consider myself lucky that I escaped the clinic before they could do to me whatever it is that they did to you…” Whisper argued, preparing to have a fight with Gear.

“I see. I’m sure your wisps would love to hear that you said that.” Gear remarked snidely, causing Whisper to become enraged.

“I’LL GET THEM BACK, JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE! THEY'RE JUST AS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ALL THIS AS I AM!!” Whisper hollered, lunging at Gear to attack her.

But before she could reach her, Gear knocked her back with a sonic blast from her wispon. Though the blast tossed Whisper to the ground, she quickly got back up and was ready to face Gear again.

Except she wasn’t there anymore.

Gear and her wisp had completely disappeared, and no matter how hard Whisper looked for them, she couldn’t find where they had gone.

Once Whisper realized that her odds of finding Gear were next to none, she decided to retrieve the communicator that Tails had given her on her way out of the Sky Patrol and called Amy with it.

“Hey Whisper, feeling any better?” Amy asked right after picking up.

“Not particularly, no…” Whisper admitted.

“Oh? Then what are you calling for, girlie?” Amy inquired, sounding concerned.

“There’s something that I think you guys need to know about…” Whisper answered vaguely.

#the era of shadow #teos #writing tag #mod ash #lycan DNI

[djarrex]

Howie + Rex sandwich you say? Oh, I'm listening. 👀

Kendra I am SO GLAD you bring it up because !!!!!! lemme tell you :’)

Quick lil summary: Howie finds out about the relationship you have with Rex, but that only encourages the sinful idea that pops in your head.

|| Captain Howzer x f!reader x Captain Rex || 18+ only!!! unprotected piv, creampie, cumshot, teasing, vaginal fingering, spanking, licking, hair pulling, oral (m receiving). boy oh boy this is... yeah. 2.4k words of pure filth tbh. (also: minor tbb spoilers because, well, Howzer) and who knows, maybe there will be a part 2? We love Howie in this house ♡

***

Two identical pairs of darkening, golden eyes watch as you saunter over to them - their gazes lustful and voracious. It's nerve-wracking, the prospect of being shared between two captivating soldiers like Rex and Howie. Although, it was kind of your idea in the first place - the two captains had no rebuttal, no qualms, no argument as to why not.

For the most part, your little relationship with Rex has been kept a secret. You'd been working closely with Captain Howzer from the start of the Republic occupation on Ryloth, which was about a cycle or so ago. Then he started becoming a little suspicious about Rex's random, unannounced visits to the Twi'lek populated planet, and soon after, the loth cat was out of the bag. The high probability of Howie finding out about the two of you was never something that overly worried you, because quite honestly, they're more similar than they may realize. You knew he wouldn't report you two, and you were correct in that assumption. What you did not expect, though, was for your own mind to turn the corner to such a dark and filthy place when you had nervously suggested giving Howie some first-hand experience in the physical aspects of you and Rex's relationship. 

“Look at her, Captain,” Howzer says with a dark chuckle while palming himself over his blacks. His eyes rove over your body, totally blatant and eager as he continues, “Such pretty lips... I wonder what she can do with them, but I’m sure you already know all about it.” Rex smirks at that little jab, nodding in agreement and keeping his gaze on you; you’re standing in front of them, front and center, completely bare - a wanting, waiting meal for their hungry eyes to feast upon.

“You’re right, Captain, I know just how well she can put those pretty lips to use.” Rex lifts a hand, reaching towards you and you tentatively grab it; he pulls you stand between his parted legs, softening his expression for the moment while searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation. “What do you say, cyare? You wanna show Captain Howzer what you can do with those perfect lips of yours?” Hearing them refer to each other as “Captain” in this back-and-forth power trip has your cunt tingling and clit throbbing - this is going to be fun. Rex notes the sly smile curling at the corner of your mouth - wordlessly telling him all he needs to know. Your eyes flick over to the other captain as a surge of confidence washes over you; you nod slowly, squeezing Rex’s hand in yours before retracting and taking the two steps to stand directly in front of Howie. His hair is tidy in that brushed-up style he so often sports, and all you want to do is yank and tug to where it’s beyond repair. 

“Where do you want me, Captain?” you breathe out while lightly brushing your nails through his buzzed undercut, just above his ear. The quiet groan that falls from his lips only encourages you as you press your nails just a little harder into his scalp. You’re lost in Howie’s eyes with the way he peers up at you more desperate than before. His teeth peek out as he takes his lip between them - his eyes glued to the way you so subtly run your tongue across your bottom lip while continuing to run your nails through his prickly, buzzed hair. He’s so pretty - staring up at you like this all while is cock grows harder and harder in the confines of his blacks. The scar on his cheek is the next thing to draw your attention - it’s unique, a sign of a warrior, a sign of surviving battle. Howie must not have been wearing his teal-accented bucket in one, unfortunate instance to have acquired such an interesting facial scar, and for some reason that image has your knees getting weaker the longer you stand in front of him. The scar looks pretty, engrained into his cheek this way - it adds to his already striking features, making him even more breathtaking. The same goes for the smaller, matching one on his chin, just below his adorable pout. You want to taste him, feel him on your tongue, feel it on your tongue. Fuck, you want to do it...

So you do.

Before you can even register acting upon such a wild desire, you’re leaning forward - Howie’s eyes widening as your tongue sticks out and lands flat against the sharp curve of his jaw. Slowly, you begin applying a good amount of pressure with your tongue before moving upwards and gliding across his scar - the little divots along the thin, destroyed tissue tickles your taste buds. He shutters as another low groan falls so effortlessly from his parted lips - a sound you desperately want to hear more of. Upon standing back up you notice the faint shimmer along his cheek and how he goes back to biting his lip in that way that's sending spiraling desire throughout your body.

Rex clears his throat suddenly, deliberately, breaking your little trance.

“Captain,” Rex barks while grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “She asked you a question,” he so matter-of-factly reminds his entranced vod.

“Right.” Howie blinks and shakes his head before turning to point at the center of the mattress - you mentally take an educated guess as to where the lads want you positioned for them. “Pretty thing,” he coos. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees right there in the middle of the bed, hm?” Nearly tripping on Rex’s feet, you dart onto the mattress, positioning yourself so that you’re facing the wall and your ass is angled the way you know they’ll appreciate. Simultaneous chuckles erupt from both of them, no doubt aimed at the eager way your hips rock back and forth so impatiently.

After a few moments of undressing, Howie climbs onto the bed and shuffles on his knees to move in front of you - his cock now free of its prison and jutting out just inches from your glistening lips; you’re practically drooling at the sight. It's his turn to rake his fingers through your hair; as soon as his blunt nails make that first scrape along your scalp, you whimper aloud and he just grins.

"So, so pretty," he murmurs while tracing your lips with the bulbous head of his cock - the dribble of precum catching at the slit of your mouth. "Open up, gorgeous." You do - letting your jaw slack, allowing him to push in as deep as he'd like. The same fingers combing through your hair now travel to the back of your head - threading between your roots and gripping at your scalp firmly. He slowly begins inching into the warm cavern of your mouth, groaning every time your tongue involuntarily swipes along his girth as it pushes towards the back of your throat. Your lips tighten around him when he begins his languid thrusts, and you do your best to keep your gaze up and at him while engulfing nearly every last centimeter of his throbbing cock. With one hand in your hair and the other caressing your cheek, you’re being held in place while he makes you swallow him whole - your own hands pressing into the mattress with the single job of keeping you up and balanced.

Howie is so achingly beautiful in this moment - his now unkempt, thick strands of hair hanging over his forehead, resting carelessly just above his furrowed brow and squeezed-shut eyelids. His jaw is hanging wide open, allowing the deep, gargled noises of pleasure to filter through. Watching Howie like this, and hearing him - it’s making you clench hard around nothing, even more so than before. 

"Captain," Rex calls from behind you. Howie’s eyes snap open, now looking in the direction of where Rex is surely ridding himself of the rest of his garb out of your sight. It's clear to you that non-verbal communication ensues between the two of them as Howie picks up the pace; the sudden dip in the mattress at your feet from the weight of Rex joining you excites you. As if Rex can read your mind, he slowly swipes a finger through your folds - gathering the evidence of your arousal and spreading it around before prodding at your hole. You moan - a deep hum erupting from your center that is muffled by every thrust of Howie’s hips, making him echo you from the feeling of those vibrations buzzing through his cock. His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek as drool seeps from the weakening seal of your lips, descending down like syrup and onto the sheets beneath you.

“F-mmm- is she wet, Rex?” Again, you whimper with your lips loosely enclosed around his cock when Rex continues fumbling around in your folds - you can hear how wet you are, even over the dull gargling sound of your throat getting hammered. “Whatever you’re - mmph - doing back there, keep d-doing it. I’m - shit - gonna cum on this pretty little face.” 

Wordless, Rex slides two fingers into your molten entrance - turning the pair back and forth while slowly pumping them in and out. You’re so worked up that your body is already screaming for that release, and you feel it building up quicker than you have time to realize. That familiar tingling sensation burns through your lower stomach, and only intensifies when Rex curls his fingers and quickens their pace - rapidly hitting that glorious spongey spot along your walls that you're never able to hit going solo. Your muffled squeal has Howie growling and pulling your hair tighter than before as he pops you off of him before taking his drool-coated cock in hand, working himself that last little bit with the help of a firm grip and quick motions at the head. You’re trying to catch your breath and Rex continues to finger-fuck you through it all, and seconds later, your cheek is being splashed with spurts of thick, tepid release. Instinctively, your tongue pokes out and catches the tangy spend that’s painted around your lips - letting out a sinful sound of approval. 

“There you go, pretty thing,” Howie says with a smirk while leaning down to be eye level with you and pinching your spit-soaked chin between his fingers - turning your head slightly to the right as he admires his work. “Since you like my scar so much-” he chuckles darkly while rubbing your bottom lip with his wet thumb before guiding it into your mouth, “-now you have a little something to match.” 

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to catch on to what Howie was implying - it hits you but disappears within seconds because Rex has lined himself up behind you and slid into your wet walls all in one fluid motion. You mewl in both shock and pleasure - Howie opting to keep his thick thumb secure between your lips with his fingers clamping under your chin to keep your jaw closed around him.

“Suck,” the man in front of you commands, his eyes narrowing beneath his untidy hair. You’re unable to process anything of the sorts - totally unable to form any coherent thought with the way Rex’s hips are smacking so loudly against the meat of your ass and the feeling of him prodding at your cervix, making your body wince with each hit. The flesh surrounding your hips fall victim to a bruising grip - Rex holds you steady while fucking you so hard and deep that you’re practically choking for air.

Suddenly Howie rips his thumb from you and traces it along your cheek - collecting the thick release coating your skin and bringing it back between your lips. You’re panting and moaning and trying to lick up everything Howie offers to you - trying to be good for him. Peeking down quickly you see how he’s already hard again, his cock bobbing with each beat of his heart, and that makes your mouth water for more. He must’ve noticed how your glossy eyes are glued so shamelessly to his groin, staring hungrily at his revived member from the dark curls at the base to the swollen head, when he starts to pump himself at his own leisure. 

“No, pretty thing,” he shakes his head and makes you look into his eyes with the fingers still cradling your jaw. “I want what the Captain’s having.”

Rex’s grunts become louder, more desperate, as he approaches his climax. You’re right there yourself, whining and whimpering while looking into Howie’s eyes as Rex pounds you into the next system. Howie is just sitting patiently on his haunches, relaxed and pumping himself to the sight and sound of you getting railed from behind. You clamp around Rex’s cock with a shout, and seconds later he stills his hips as his pulsating length spits its release into your strangling walls - that warmth blooming deep inside you making you shutter and moan from the sensation. 

“Shit, Howzer, come take a look at this,” Rex calls him over from behind you as he eases himself out of your clenching cunt. Howie climbs off the bed and disappears from your vision - leaving you to stare at the paint peeling off the dull wall, miraculously still holding yourself up on shaky hands. A quick slap on your ass has you rocking forward - low groans coming from the men staring at your puffy folds behind you. “Cyare, tell your Howie how beautiful this tight little pussy looks with my cum dripping out of her.” Your face burns at Rex’s filthy command but you’re too far in this to care.

“I- I look beautiful with Rex’s cum dripping out of me, Howie.” You’re shocked at how effortlessly those words fell from your swollen lips - but fuck, you love it, and the men’s shared mumbles of filthy praise only egg you on. 

“Fuck, what a good girl she is, Captain, but I believe it’s my turn now, hm?” Howie’s voice is firm yet careful - he knows who you truly belong to.

“Cyare.” Rex steps into frame with his shimmering, semi-hard cock in hand. Your eyes lock with his, and his expression hardens. “I want to hear you beg your Howie to fuck your tight little pussy.”

***

Tags! Please fill out my form if you wanna be added ♡ This time I’ll go ahead and link my masterlist on here, too.

@bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567 @threevie @letitrainathousandflames @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @thefact0rygirl @justanothersadperson93 @ohtobeamoth @14mcmd1122 @tacticalsparkles @cheesemachine44 @damerondala @buckethead-over-heels @kriffclone @purgetroopercody @socially-anxious-fangirl @cloneygoodness @marya-komar @beskarprincessjenny @awkward-katiesaur @katiebits1 @kawaiitimecharm @shiny-mando @sapphichorrorpictureshow @fat-zygerrian @foodandbooksplease @the-siren-writes-it @ken-obiwan @parkotedarasuum @ladykatakuri @bjm2020 @dinner-djarin @501stgirl @99squad @obiwan-djarin @zazzysseoul @quantumowl @sugarpuffstuff

#YIKES here it IS #I told y'all #I hope you didn't think I was lying #all aboard the filth train™ choo choo #you will not get an apology from me muahaha #Captain Howzer #Captain Rex #captain howzer x reader #captain rex x reader #captain howzer smut #captain rex smut #djarrex writes #18+ #tbb spoilers #the bad batch #howzer x reader x rex #rex + howzer sandwich anyone?

[intangibly-here]

if I'm let go now (i’ll just fade to blue)

xiao x gn!reader

⁃ scenario; 1.7k words ⁃ forest child!reader ⁃ angst ⁃ hurt no comfort

————————————————————

he holds your heart (warm red, steadily beating) in his palms without even knowing.

title from chevy - floating.

————————————————————

your first memory is one of a forest.

the emerald green canopy of draping leaves, the mossy trails dotted with mushrooms. the singing of birds, small sparrows and rounded bluejays, filling the skies. the dry bark pressed against your back, but a small form nestled in the hollow of a tree stump.

you are a child of the forest.

and as a child of the forest, one without origin, one without mortal ties, one that only knows itself and it’s own longing - you know deep inside your soul there is only one thing you’re looking for.

what that thing is, you’re unsure of;

nonetheless,

you must look for it.

and so you pick yourself up and travel.

-

distantly, you know you’ve lived these lives over and over again.

the very first one was as a sand-built traveler of the desert, born encircled by a patch of cacti. in that life, you had searched for an oasis, a single child by your side.

the child spoke of a land where plumes of magic spiraled through the lands, where islands remained suspended in time, hovering over grounds unchanging.

you smiled and patted the child on the head.

upon arriving at the oasis and returning the child to their family, you felt a tug. the tug was not one of great strength and painful efforts, but one of a  gravitational force that exceeded physical abilities of all kinds.

you followed it, retracing your steps back to the ring of cacti.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

you crumble and dissolve into golden pools of sand.

-

of the endless trail of lives you’ve lived, most have become inescapably forgotten, merged into a blur that made them indistinguishable from one another.

the most memorable would be the one you’d lived last, as a wisp of a spirit clinging to the shoulder of an ethereal woman.

though in the midst of war, she remained a gentle, kind, innovative soul, always seeking to change for the better.

she was stunning.

and as you watched her live her life out, eventually (inevitably) returning once more to the field of glaze lilies, lain on the flowering plants to drift away, you wondered.

wondered how immortal beings could care so much about loss, when endings were only the relieving path of entering the cycle of reincarnation. the path to wipe clean the slate of life and start anew.

staring at the regal man kneeling by the goddess’ side, silent tears running down his face, you disappear with the wind.

-

as you travel, you slowly realize the world you’ve manifested in is not one of roaring vehicles nor bustling machinery like several before, but of the last one you’d visited, the one of the goddess and the heartbroken man.

you make your way back to the same land, where once stood a ruined fortress now stands a flourishing city. you can see how stalls line the sidewalks, even from where you stand on the cliffs of the outskirts, paved pathing making for a guide towards the entrance of the harbor.

as you’re thinking about how far this city has grown since you last walked the land, you catch sight of a quick-footed figure, alert and patrolling the vast land that is liyue.

this is who you’ve been looking for.

-

at first, it was just an obligatory interest. one that is duty-bound, directed by a play-writer hidden behind the boundaries of the world and tied together by the strings of fate.

then, as the weeks, months, and then years go by, you find yourself watching the little things he does, inadvertently noticing things you wouldn’t have realized without paying even closer attention.

the way that he protects the city both day and night, even when there are hundreds of other adventurers like yourself (a side job you’d picked up where you’d complete commissions whenever you were free) to do that.

the way he lets his short hair flow loose and untamed, the mark on his forehead only drawing out the elegance he exudes.

the way he’s quiet, caring even in the silence when he still suffers. the hope that you can ease his pain, even if only for a moment, with a comfortable silence.

it all makes your mind spiral out of control, your emotions coming undone from the container you had them sealed in.

you wonder what it is.

(you might have an inkling of the answer already.)

-

“today’s your birthday?”

you turn around, brightening slightly at the sight of the adeptus. you could get lost in the mirrors of his eyes if he would let you.

maybe he would let you.

“..something like that.”

you’d only revealed it last year when mrs. goldet had asked. it’s been a few years since you’ve made your way to this inn when you think about it.

he shifts where he stands for a moment, maybe a little nervously, and then presents you with a neatly wrapped gift box. he must’ve taken time with it.

“may i open it?”

he gives you a brief, confirming nod of his head.

when you undo the ribbon and carefully open the lid of the small box, you come to see a finely weaved butterfly of leaves.

you lift your gaze from the tiny creation, and xiao immediately looks to the side.

“take it. it’s an adepti amulet- staves off evil.”

you look at the reddened tips of his ears and the defensive scowl on his face and file it into the archive of your memories.

“thank you, xiao.”

-

“please hand this to xiao.”

you look at the packet the geo archon (zhongli, you learn he’s called) presses into your palms with utmost sincerity.

“it’s... to relieve his pain.”

your eyes soften unconsciously, and you dip your head in silent agreement. now, to look for him.

-

ah, so this is where he was.

your heart aches, the feeling of an overwhelming, all-consuming urge to cry rising up in you.

the wind picks up, tree leaves swaying in the breeze, following the movements of the two figures residing in the hollow of the forest.

a safe place for just the two of them.

you are intruding.

the longer you stand, watching, staring, unable to look away no matter how desperately you wish to, the more your chest throbs, the bone-deep ache of wanting to disappear spreading throughout your body.

the sound of a flute, clear and sweet, floats through the air, slim fingers smoothing over the sides and playing with skill you could never imitate.

the figure you’ve been looking for, upright and powerful and all that you have ever seen (all that he has ever allowed you to see), is relaxed for once. you can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way his spear is left untouched, rested upright against the trunk of a tree at the edges of the clearing.

you do not belong here.

then, to the sound of the flute, xiao begins to dance. the field of flowers blooms with his gentle, languid movements, petals surrounding him as he flows around the serene space.

it is exactly as he’d described to you once before, that his sweet dream would be to dance in a field of flowers to the sound of a flute.

his dream has become a beautiful reality.

you cannot dream that it would be you he dances with anymore.

as he spins around, a stunning dance that displays his years of experience with agile movement, he turns, takes off his mask, and smiles, the genuine kind that is both awkward due to disuse and tooth-rottingly sweet at the same time. a full blush covers his face warmly.

you should’ve realized long ago whose flute he was imagining.

you blink once, twice, and the tears start to fall, ones you never thought you would cry.

if you could, you would offer your entire being up to him, your heart, these thoughts, these new feelings, on a platter for him to keep, stored away from where anyone could ever reach them. it is not theirs’ to see, only his. it would never be anyone else’s, only his.

(he does not need them, not your heart, nor the medicine.)

the pain in your chest doubles over.

(he does not want them - except it’s only your heart he does not want.)

you understand now what morax had understood hundreds of years ago, where you as an immortal spirit did not.

(he does not want you.)

your gaze tilts upwards from where you stand in the shadows of the greenery, watching the picturesque scene in front of you unfold.

you are a child of the forest, but for once, this forest is not for you.

-

the moment you walk back to the inn, you feel the otherworldly tug.

how convenient.

(oh. you love him.)

it’s to be expected. your time here is up.

you smile at the owner, and maybe she sees something in your eyes because when you hand her the packet (“give this to xiao when he returns, please.”), she nods and says nothing.

(love, love.)

and so you return to your forest, steady footsteps over hills and plains and lakes and rivers. the blue of the sky melts to orange-reds, then to navy-blacks, then back to orange-reds once more, and the cycle repeats over and over and over again.

(lovelovelovelove-)

the moss greets you first, shifting under your feet in semblance of the way his eyes would whenever you met his gaze.

then, it’s the birds, singing slow melodies you know he loves, their clear song a reminder of how he would hum familiar tunes.

finally, it’s the trees, their leaves falling and submerging you softly, like how you would to him with blankets when he fell asleep out on the balcony, tired from the weariness of an immortal life.

you too, are now tired.

for one last time, you sob your heart out, sitting on the forest floor with nothing around you but the animals and plants.

what do you cry for? the birth of these painful feelings? the lack of reciprocation?

(you’re unsure.)

(maybe it is for your unimportant existence.)

you blink your eyes closed for the final time, and your body falls to the ground with a thump.

the butterfly of leaves drifts out of your clutches and fades with a desolate glow.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

(may you stay asleep for eternity so you don’t have to remember.)

you disappear.

#angst #hurt no comfort #xiao #genshin impact #cecilia #xiao x gn!reader

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part III

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.9

Author’s Note: Here's Part 3!! This was super difficult for me to get out, but I think I'm happy with it. I rewrote it like 3 or 4 times

It's Delicate: Part III

Spencer notices everything. He’s been trained to notice the slightest change in his environment. He supposes that his profiler training has helped him be more comfortable in social situations. But still, Spencer feels like a fish out of water as he pushes the door to the bookstore open. He knows he should feel at home when he’s in a bookstore, but his heart seems to be racing. Spencer tries to quiet his nerves before he can feel himself running away.

Thinking that it might be a good idea to distract himself, Spencer walks over to the bookshelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. He runs his fingers along the spine of the books. Some are old and used, and others are well cared for with their enabled and embossed writing on the spines. He recognizes some titles, but others aren’t too familiar. There’s a whole world of books out there that Spencer has yet to explore. There’s a couple other patrons in the store, an older woman who sits on the soft rocking chair in the back corner and a young woman who already has a pile of books tucked under her arms.

Looking around, Spencer walks towards the back of the store where a glowing sign directs him to the restroom. He goes into the Men’s Room and locks the door behind him. Spencer looks at his reflection in the mirror. He wouldn’t consider himself a vain man, nor would he consider himself aloof about his appearance. He’s very much aware of the deep lines that collect around his eyes and the dark bags underneath. Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. He likes the way his longer hair looks. It took so long after getting released from prison to get his curls back. His hair is the one part of his physical appearance that Spencer can say he likes; the rest he’s a little less than indifferent about on a good day.

Spencer shuts the light off in the bathroom and heads back to the front of the store. He approaches the store clerk, who sits behind the counter. She’s talking with the young woman who had the pile of books tucked under her arms. Spencer looks around the store, trying to find a sign for where the book club meets. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Y/N looks like. He decides to take out his phone to text Y/N that he’s here. Spencer walks to the short stories section of the store and looks for the “P”s. Once he finds the book he’s looking for he takes a photo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: How have I not discovered this place sooner??

He doesn’t expect for Y/N to text him back right away, so he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Spencer walks to the front of the store. The display highlights the books of the month with different authors, genres, and themes. It’s a quaint little store and Spencer wonders why he put off visiting so long. The young woman finishes with the clerk and brushes past Spencer, her face buried in her phone. Spencer walks towards the shelves of True Crime books. He sees Rossi’s latest release about the Golden State Killer. Before Spencer can pick up the book, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Ooooh a man after my own heart :) I’m guessing you’re here too

Spencer: Yes...I just realized I don’t know what you look like?

Y/N: Well, I guess that means you have to find me

Spencer looks around at the patrons in the store. The older woman and the younger woman seem like the only logical candidates. The young woman doesn’t look up when Spencer brushes past, her attention is intently focused on the book across her lap, while the older woman swipes on her e-reader.

Spencer: You know I could just call you and your phone would ring

Y/N: That’s like cheating

Y/N: Turn around

Spencer turns around and is greeted by the young woman who brushed past him before. She smiles up at him and Spencer can’t help but grin back at her. He didn’t really give much thought to what Y/N looks like, and he can only hope that she didn’t think too much about him in that way. Spencer has to stop himself from that spiral, and remind himself that it’s not a date.

“You’re Y/N?” Spencer asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too nervous.

“Yes, and I really hope you’re Spencer,” she says, “you’re nothing like I pictured,”

Spencer’s face must have shown his shock because Y/N’s hand comes up to gently touch his upper arm in an attempt to quell his worry.

“No, nothing bad, Spencer. You just text like a grandpa so I figured you were a lonely old man. I’m just surprised that you’re pretty...young is all,” Y/N finishes her voice climbing up a couple of scales making her nerves evident.

Spencer nods in agreement, used to people thinking he’s older than he actually is his entire life. He supposes that’s because of his intelligence coupled with his social ineptitude.

“Well, judging by your texting, I predicted that you would be around my age, or younger,” Spencer says he’s always had difficulties keeping conversations going, yet right now his mind is swimming of different things he can tell Y/N.

“So you ready for your first Book Buddy meeting?” Y/N asks. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a playful smile. Spencer likes her smile and grows disappointed that the only time he’ll be able to see it is when they meet together. As much as he is technology adverse, he wouldn’t mind being able to see her smile through her emojis and snarky messages.

“I’m still not too sure what we’re supposed to do, but at least I’ve got you to show me,”

“Come on Book Buddy virgin,” Y/N says winking at Spencer as she walks past him to the staircase that leads to the store’s basement.

Spencer tries to ignore her comment, but even with his brain power he can’t stop his ears from turning pink. He’s always blushing around people who listen to him, especially when those people are so enthralling to watch.

In the basement, there’s shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. A couple of couches and sofas are tucked in the corner with a table and lamp. The soft light is warm and inviting. Spencer’s eyes can’t help but to scan the various titles in the collection. Y/N flops down on the couch and taps the seat, signalling for Spencer to sit next to her.

Sitting down next to her, Spencer wonders how much space he should put between them. He doesn’t want to sit so close and have her think he’s only here to make a pass at her. Nor does he want to sit so far away, because the scent of her peppermint and eucalyptus perfume threatens to mesmerize him.

Y/N brushes her hair from her face with her right hand, that’s adorned with a ring and a couple gold bracelets. She looks over at Spencer apprehensively and he tries to give her a comforting smile back, but he’s afraid that he just looks awkward. He suddenly is very aware that his breath tastes like stale coffee and his hair is wild, pointing out in several directions.

“So Spencer,” Y/N says, “usually we meet in a big group to do these Book Clubs, but this year the store decided to do this Book Buddy thing. Reading and picking out books for someone can be a very personal thing, so I’d like to get to know you a little bit better if that’s alright?”

Spencer’s eyes steady the woman before him. She looks over at him, her eyes never breaking from his. Psychology shows that holding eye contact is a sign of confidence, for a litany of reasons, Spencer has always had difficulties maintaining eye contact. He sighs loudly. It’s almost a mix between exasperation and confusion. Even though Spencer has spent a good portion of his adult life surrounded by very forward people, he still feels slightly nervous when he comes across those types recreationally. Especially when those types seem to have smiles so contagious that they throw every scientific study on germs out the window.

“You want to know about me?” Spencer repeats. He can feel his ears flush, and is thoroughly reminded that he hardly knows who he is.

“Yes, I want to know all your salacious stories Spencer,” Y/N says with a sly smile.

Spencer chokes out a strained laugh before he tries to think of an answer. He can’t remember the last time someone wanted to get to know him. Or maybe he does, and just wants to pretend that those memories died with her. But he can’t, because they are painful and real.

“I’m an FBI Agent, uh the Behavioral Analysis Unit specifically. We track down serial killers and other time sensitive cases,” Spencer says, used to giving the speech about his job on the rare occasion he does talk to another lonely soul at a random bar in a city.

He looks over at Y/N, ready for the reaction he usually gets. Sometimes it’s pity, other times it’s awe. But it all tastes the same with a shot of whiskey.

“That must be an incredibly exhausting job, Spencer. It takes a special kind of person to do that,”

That’s strange, Spencer thinks. Her words aren’t full of pity or awe, but almost understanding. It’s strange, but Spencer likes strange things, after all.

“It is,” Spencer says. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless words that he knows are stale and meaningless. Somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

“How long have you been in the FBI?” Y/N asks. She’s curious, but cautious to proceed and Spencer appreciates that.

“Since I was 22. I’m 34. I’ll be 35 soon,” Spencer says, still not fully believing that he’s spent nearly 13 years at the BAU.

“22, that’s a baby. I didn’t think that the FBI would recruit that young,”

Spencer grimaces, realizing that sooner or later this conversation would arise. He figured it would have come up when he got through the books in an hour or two. Spencer hates having to tell people about his intelligence. He never wants to make someone feel inferior about themselves because of his brain chemistry and genetic lottery.

“I’m kinda smart. Technically I’m a genius but I really hate that term. The idea behind intelligence testing has a very sexist and racist background. Besides, I don’t think true intelligence is accurately quantifiable,” Spencer tells her, repeating his speech usually reserved for arrogant detectives.

“That sounds like something a genius would say. You’re a humble genius. That’s a rare breed, Spencer” Y/N says, that contagious smile turning up the corners of her mouth and threatening to take over Spencer’s.

“I think that’s a compliment,” Spencer says “what about you? Tell me about yourself?” Spencer says, trying to remember the points of the conversation books he used to read as a kid in hopes of making a friend.

“Let’s see, you already know the boys. I don’t have any siblings and my mom lives in Florida, so we don’t see each other too often. I’m a Funeral Director in Alexandria, took it over after my dad passed a couple years,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer responds. Y/N smiles again, clearly a little tense to be talking about a sensitive topic.

“So Second Cat, I take it you’re a Poe fan,” Spencer says, holding to help ease into a more pleasant conversation.

“I like his short stories the best, but Emily Dickinson poetry will always have my heart. There’s something so ordinarily beautiful about the way she writes. She was so brilliant. And her and Susan, that’s a tragic love story,” Y/N finishes. She plays with the hem of her jacket absentmindedly almost like she wants to say something more.

“I first read “The Tell Tale Heart” when I was around 5,” Spencer starts, he rests his elbows on his knees to tell a story and he can’t help but feel a little excited when Y/N leans in a little closer to listen in, “I checked it out from the library and brought it home to read. Now it just so happened that I got a chemistry set. I will not incriminate myself but I may or may not have used the set as the directions intended,” Spencer says, holding up his hands in innocence.

Y/N scams him with a calculated stare, it’s not mean or judgmental, but cautious and careful. It’s like she’s deciding if she can trust him or not. He supposes she does when she winks back and says, “I’m sure that’s true Agent Reid,”

“It’s actually Dr Reid, but I’ll get there another day,” Spencer says quickly, eager to get back to his story, “so the chemistry set had some chemicals, the kind that won’t hurt kids. But I stole some sodium chlorate from the local gardening store and a pack of gummy worms from the Mini-Mart. Then I got back home and took out the chemistry set. I drop some of the sodium chlorate and gummy bears into the test tube and it starts to glow!” Spencer says, his voice gets excited when he remembers the experiment. There’s very few happy moments of his childhood, and this is one.

Y/N, listening to him eagerly, wears an excited expression as Spencer continues with the story. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone so interested in what you have to say.

“How does Poe fit in?” Y/N asks. Spencer’s fingers make a “1” as if to tell her to be patient.

“So I do the experiment and there’s pieces of molten gummy worms in my hair and on my clothes, but then I hear my mother walking up the stairs so I panic,” Spencer says, he’s an animated storyteller and Y/N is a captivated audience. He tries to not pay close attention to how her eyes hardly leave his or how they seem to be looking at him with wonder. But it’s hard to ignore that when you’ve never been looked at like that before.

“I scramble into my bed and shove the experiment under the bed, and it’s still smelling like burnt chemicals and gummy worms, mind you. And I pretend to read, but I’m reading The Tell Tale Heart, which you know is about a man who’s trying to cover up a terrible deed but literally shoving it under the floor. You know I think my 5 year old mind exploded that day,” Spencer says, he leans back so his head rests against the wall.

“It must have made quite an impression on you at what 5? How on Earth did you read Edgar Allen Poe at 5 years old? I didn’t read that until like Freshman year of high school,”

“I told you I was kind of smart,” Spencer replies, hoping that it would suffice.

“Yeah, but like a child prodigy that must have been very lonely,” Y/N says in a voice that tells Spencer she knows a thing or two about being intensely lonely.

“No one ever says that,” Spencer says in a hushed tone, “no one ever gets that it’s a lonely thing being a genius,” he finishes, putting air quotes around genius to show his discomfort with the term.

Y/N nods, “I’m not a genius by any means, Spencer, but I was an only kid. Part of me thinks it’s my fate to lonely,”

“I’m an only kid too,” Spencer says, “when I asked my mom why they didn’t have anymore kids she just told me why mess with perfection. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a built in friend,”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, I tend to do that, but do you want kids?” Y/N asks, she twists a ring that’s wrapped around her finger over and over like it’s a bad habit. She looks at him, expecting an answer, from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” Spencer says in a quiet voice, terrified that he’ll reveal too much to this enticing woman with eyes that never seem to want to look anywhere, but his.

“So did I,” Y/N tells him. Her voice mirrors his in it’s guarded, yet scared to reveal too much tone. Spencer is too busy hiding his own worry to recognize Y/N’s.

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts, determined to end the stale silence that settled between them, “of what book I thought you’d like. It’s actually a personal copy of mine. I had know clue how these things work, but I thought we could write notes in the margins. You know our thoughts and ideas about the book,”

Y/N gazes over at Spencer intently, as if she’s trying to think of how she’ll respond. Spencer notices the way Y/N pauses to think before she speaks, he tries to subdue the profiler training that ebbs to the surface, but he can’t control what his instincts tell him. He knows that Y/N is holding something back, but then again, so is he and who is he to judge.

“You’re okay with writing in a book?” Y/N asks, “I know that could be touchy for some,”

“Most of my books have little writings in the margins. I always thought that a book is a love letter from the author to the reader. You get to see inside their mind and to me that’s incredibly personal,” Spencer says, rubbing his palms that grew sweaty on his pants. It’s useless, because they just slide off.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I brought a book too, but it doesn’t have notes,” Y/N says, “but if this works out, I’ll do it next time?” Y/N asks him, the hope in her voice apparent.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Y/N,” Spencer says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingertips against Y/N’s. Her hand keeps on creeping closer to Spencer’s, he thinks that she’s trying to send him a signal, but Spencer feels too wounded, too raw to take that first big leap.

“So,” Spencer starts, he decides to clasp his hands together to avoid this new predicament, “what book did you decide on?”

“Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, it’s one of the few books that is perfect,” Y/N says, putting emphasis on the “perfect,”. Spencer thinks that he can grow to be eager to wait each week for the hour or so he’s able to watch Y/N speak with such passion and love.

“I’ve heard about, but I generally read technically books and other that it’s mainly just books that aren’t in English,” Spencer tells her, he rummages through his bag, looking for his book for Y/N.

“Close your eyes please,” Spencer says, he hides the book behind his back, he smiles as Y/N’s absurdly contagious smile grows.

“Come on Spencer, I don’t like being teased,” Y/N whines, faux pout and all.

Spencer grabs her hand and guides it to the cover of the book, The Goldfinch. He lets go of her hand; his practically stinging from the way her fingertips pressed up against the back of his hand, even though it was only for a couple of seconds.

“The Goldfinch” Y/N says, “ooh how on Earth did you know I love Donna Tartt?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” Spencer says, a surge of confidence bolstering him enough to wink at Y/N.

Spencer watches as Y/N flips through the pages of her book. Spencer read it a couple of weeks ago and loved the way the author intertwined the mystery to create a riveting story. Spencer checks his watch, realizing that nearly two hours have passed since he and Y/N sat on the couch.

Just as Y/N goes to say something, Spencer’s phone rings, ripping him from his modest paradise. He gives Y/N an apologetic look and mouths “work” as he steps away from Y/N.

“Reid,” he says, he forgot to check the caller ID, a little too excited to finish this call and get back to Y/N.

“Is that seriously how you greet your favorite person in the world?” the voice, presumably Garcia asks.

“Garcia,” Spencer says, unable to hold back his slight annoyance.

“I know it’s time off, but I guess like male serial killers don’t respect women, they don’t respect our time off either,” Garcia quips.

“I’ll be there in 20, I’m out and I’ll need to get my go bag,” Spencer tells her, preparing for the inevitable.

“I know exactly where you are, Spencer. A little birdie told me you’d called him in panic. I really hope your lady friend appreciated your lavender shirt,” Garcia says. Spencer can hear the click of keys as she talks.

He rolls his eyes, but knew that this was to be expected, “Later, Garcia,” he says, hanging up the phone call. Spencer walks back over to Y/N, whose face is buried in the book. She twirls a pen in her right hand, like she’s thinking about what she’ll write in the margins.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to cut this short, work emergency,” he explains to an Y/N understanding Y/N, who nods her head.

“Don’t worry, text me that you got home safe, please,” Y/N tells him, looking up at him with genuine worry in her eyes.

“I promise, Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” Spencer says, grabbing his book and making his way up the stairs. He reaches the top flight when his phone buzzes.

Y/N: I mean it :)

Y/N: It was nice meeting you officially….

Spencer reads over the messages as he walks, replaying the interaction in his head. It’s strange to have someone care if you make it home say. The only people on Earth, besides Spencer’s mother, that care if Spencer makes it home are the people that risk their lives with him as well.

Spencer shoots a quick message back.

Spencer: I promise and I hope you like the book, it’s very special to me.

Y/N: I’m sure I’ll love it! Now go save the world :) :)

Spencer smiles to himself as he reads the message, amazed that her contagious smile can make its way through the string of code from his smartphone. As he drives off, Spencer thinks about the way Y/N actually listens to him or the way her hair sees fall perfectly into place. He thinks about her laugh and the way she almost makes him feel safe in the short time he’s known her.

But all those good thoughts amount to nothing, when the biggest thought on Spencer’s mind revolves around the shiny ring that sits on her left hand on the finger between her pinky and pointer finger.

A wedding ring.

-TAGLIST- (Comment to be added or if I forgot to add you)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

@spideygenius

@measure-in-pain

@nomajdetective

@spencerreid9

@saspencereid

@laurakirsten0502

@thatsonezesty13 (I'm trying what's wrong with this tag)

Thank You For Reading

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x reader series #criminal minds fanfic #it's delicate #spencer reid it's deicate

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

#things i wrote #@anon #i hope you are doing well soon #💙 #rhink

[peakyxtommy]

Love Twice Gone - Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael & you were together for two years living in New York City. You break up and he messages you out of the blue. You two go back to seeing the other, but life has other plans.

WC: 2.5K

Warnings: Angst, Sadness, Broken-Relationship

A/N: Based Around Sex With My Ex by Fletcher. Flashbacks are italicized.

Gif Credit: @navinee

I know it's been a couple months, yeah, we should meet up

I'll meet you downstairs at the Subway station

We don't gotta talk about us, how we messed it up

We could keep it light, just a conversation

No expectation

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. It’s been three months since he left back to London. You sat in your apartment still wondering if he thought about you. If he wondered what you were doing or if you were with someone new.

Sometimes you could sit on your balcony staring down at the flurry of people wondering about him. Was he safe or happy or if he moved on to someone new? You made little scenarios in your head of what life was like right now. The possibility of what if floating through. Wishing that this relationship hadn’t had to come to an end but the inevitable was you both knew the truth.

Sometimes the truth cuts deep. He tore you in ways you never knew was possible. You were patching up the mess until he messaged you out of the blue one day. Three months after the breakup. You were still bitter and hurt but you still loved him deep down. It was the simplicity of the three words that got you. Got your heart yearning and mind running again with a new lie that you would have to face later than sooner. How you wish it would’ve been sooner.

“I miss you”

The message that began the spiral you were still trying to climb yourself out of. It was three days later on a Friday night you found yourself walking off the same old train and up the familiar subways steps. When you reached the top of the stairs the coldness nipped at your warm skin as you made a right down the street. Walking to your bar, the bar that held too many memories, drunken confessions, and whispered secrets. You see him sitting outside on the bench, with his black beanie. Staring down at his phone but as soon as you cross the street your eyes meet. It feels like the first time all over again.

-

“Oi, you ruined my pants!” He screams as the burning cream liquid soaks his pants and shoes.

“I’m really sorry, but you were standing like a lost dog in the way! Some people have to get to work.” You huff with annoyance as you were running late to work.

“I’m lost, I’m trying to make my way to 34th Wall Street. Sorry to inconvenience you.” He speaks about to brush past you but you grab his arm.

“Wait.” “I work over there. Let me help you at least, I did spill my coffee on you.” He looks at you for a moment before nodding. You remain in silence as the next train approaches and he follows your lead, as you make your way to the first two seats you see in the corner. You let him have the window seat as you sit on the end. You remain silent the whole ride, only to speak to let him know when to get off the train.

“What company do you work for?” You ask as you both walk down the street.

“Shelby Limited Co. We just opened up here and are big in England.”

“Interesting, I saw some signs a couple of weeks ago. I work for the Wall Street Journal on 42nd Street.” You respond as you see you are almost to the destination.

“Well, here we are. I’m sorry about the coffee again.”

“Thank you so much for getting me here. Don’t worry about it.” He pauses. “I never got your name.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“My name is Michael Gray. Maybe, I’ll see you around Y/N.”

“Maybe Mr. Gray.” You respond, walking down the block to get to your own job.

It was only a few weeks later when the two of you ran into each other. He asked you out on a date and took you to McConnel’s bar to grab drinks. You two end up hitting it off talking for hours and him making sure you got a taxi home.

-

“Hey Michael.” You wave as he stands, brown eyes meeting yours, lip curving upward into a small grin.

“Hey Y/N, you look good.” You could feel your face heat up at his compliment, feeling the butterflies rushing into your stomach.

“Thank you. Do you want to grab a drink?” He nods, as you walk to the door, with him holding it open for you. You both wave to the bar tenders and sit at your table. The table that held too many memories and broken promises.

You tried to push those thoughts to the side. You didn’t want to set yourself up to be broken by him again. To feel the piercing cut of pain that wallowed in your heart. You kept the conversation light and focused on things happening now. No discussion of the past or the future. Those things could only be buried so long before they made their way to the surface.

Just a one minute walk

And it's just two blocks

And three drinks later

You're back in my arms

His place wasn’t far from the bar. It was only two blocks away and the quickest walk but this time felt different. It felt like the time was moving by slowly and you were trying to catch up. You were presently aware of everything going on but your mind was still plagued by the past. By the harsh words yelled out in the middle of the night, the lies that sent you packing, and a morning of waking up alone.

In this moment your mind was like a blank slate. A state of comfort and familiarity taking over. The kiss that tasted of poison three months ago was now sweet honey on your lips. His touch set you on fire once again. As you found yourselves stumbling around in his apartment in the night, making your way back to the bedroom to undress, to feel his body above yours, you missed this. You missed him, his smell, his arms holding you like you were the most important thing in the world. There you were back under his spell again.

I just had sex with my ex in a New York apartment

Now I'm a mess, I'm obsessed

I'm right back where I started, broken-hearted

Every time you call me, I'll pick up again

Back into my feelings, back into your bed

The first time shouldn’t have happened but did. It should have been a one time thing. It didn’t take long for you to be waiting to hear from him again. Trying to downplay it into not being a big deal. It didn’t mean anything, but it did. You felt it.

A few days later he called and it happened again. Everything was smooth until after the third time, he never questioned you leaving before but asked you to stay. That’s exactly what you did.

Waking up the next morning in his Manhattan apartment and eating breakfast as if things were patched up, but it wasn’t. You two continued acting like things were fine. It was breaking you on the inside but you ignored it. Ignored it to be temporarily happy with the one that made you the happiest when you were together. Even though he broke you to shreds, it was like he was the one sewing you back together even for just a moment. A moment of bliss with him, to take the guilt and shame away later. It was only two months later when things changed.

Gotta catch my flight, but I want more time

Gimme one more night to be wrapped up in you

It was the worst news to happen at this time. The Stock Market crash. It made many changes and left so much apprehension among the people. You didn’t hear anything from him for three days after it happened, letting worry get the best of you.

He shows up on the fourth day, knocking hard on your door as you were cleaning around your apartment. You open the door to his stoic face and rushed presence. Before you even got a chance to sit and say a word of your own, he broke the news that started the fire that would end in ash.

“I’m leaving back to England in three days. I messed up.” He huffs, fingers pulling at his dark locks.

“How long have you known?” You say, feeling the room start to tilt.

“Found out three days ago. Company’s a mess and my family is angry.”

“Maybe you should go.”

“I can’t stop this from happening. You knew, from the start that this wasn’t going to work. We’ve been only kidding ourselves!” He drips with sarcasm and a small laugh.

“Leave now! I don’t want to see you again!” You scream, teeth biting hard into your bottom lip, as you point toward the door. He grabs his things and you slam the door loud behind him. Knowing he was right but you wanted him to be wrong.

And I know that I'm losing my mind

And it feels like I'm losing you twice

Is it worth the price?

What have I gotten into?

You felt like the world was spinning upside down again. You couldn’t catch a break or a breath. That your mind was betraying you. That it was waving all the red flags possible and you just ignored it. He wasn’t going to be yours. You were back to square one and drowning your sorrows with the bottle in hand. Hoping the liquor would ease your mind, ease the pain, and erase the hole in your heart.

What if you never met with him for that drink or never met him to begin with?

Why you still loved the person that gained every part of you possible but let it slip between their fingers like sand in the wind?

If it was all an illusion, was it ever meant to last, to be forever?

Maybe the idea of being with him fogged up your mind. Being with him all over again wasn’t as bad for the first time. She was never vulnerable with anyone before him, not even herself. He brought vulnerability out of her, that it scared her. It scared him too because he felt the same way. Two people being vulnerable and still learning the curvatures of life.

You wish you could feel the joy of your first meeting over again and freeze that moment in time. The encounter and all the happy moments that followed but you couldn’t. Time wasn’t on your side and neither was loving someone you had to let go.

I thought it'd be harmless

So we kiss goodnight and I catch that flight

Say goodbye forever until next time

There you laid bodies bare and tangled in the sheets, holding the other tight together. As if you moved an inch away, that you would disappear right in the other’s eyes. The evening was weirdly amazing and you could feel the sadness as well. It was the elephant in the room. His bags sat at the door waiting along with his favorite navy jacket and black boots. Dinner went smooth as you made your favorite meal which was pasta and strawberry shortcake for dessert that was your favorite together. You asked him questions about his family back at home and what he was excited to get back to. He asked about how you were going to visit your family and take a small vacation. Futures without the other around.

“Do you think it was worth it?” You whispered as you trace small circles on his warm chest. Head resting on his heart, hearing the thumping loudly in your ear. He sat with his face toward the ceiling, left folded behind his head, and the other wrapped around your back.

He laid there thinking about your question knowing the obvious answer. He loved you so much the first time around and was sad to lose it. He now got to love you a second time but in a different way than before and he was losing you twice, in two ways, but it all hurt the same, but even worse than before. He wouldn't change him, you, or the time for anything.

“Yes, I wouldn't change any of it. Would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” You respond wanting to say more. To tell him you love him even though you knew he still was leaving. Words to fall on deaf ears. In the worst circumstance.

“Remember when we were going to get an apartment with a rooftop. On the inside we were going to have a room for art and reading. Two bedrooms for our kids. Planned on tracking strolls in Central Park.” You whisper with a shyness but chuckle at the end thinking of the thoughts that plagued your mind when you two first met. You still wish for those things to happen for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

“Couldn’t forget, you even had their names picked out. We’ve spent so much time walking around this city and seen enough art to last us a lifetime. I won’t forget the way your skin sparkles under the sunlight and the way you feel right now in my arms.” He lips press against the crown of your head.

That’s how you go back and forth listing good memories of the past and laughing like you would have a future together. It would only last so long before the tightness welled in your chest and the cloud that disappeared came back again. You spoke the words in your heart, feeling the shreds come.

“I’m going to miss you. I’m mad about how you treated me before and that you’re leaving forever. I love you Michael and am glad to have gotten the chance to be loved by you. Remember me in your daydreams.” You whisper as your voice goes shrill, cracking, as the hot wet tears spill from your eyes. Hand coming to wipe them harshly away.

“I’m going to miss you too. I’m sorry. I love you (Y/N). Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” His brown eyes stare into your wet ones. Foreheads touching, as you see him hold back his own tears, putting on a brave face.

“I promise.” You kiss him sweetly on the lips one last time. Then you kiss right above his eye, like you always did after the first time you told him you loved him. It was your way of saying it one last time, before he was no longer yours, not for just a first time, but a second.

The finality of it all as you drifted off to sleep. A peace falling over you, of your mind of the two of you together as one. One more dream of bliss before it all turned grey again. It was the best night of sleep you had in awhile.

When you woke up it was like a ghost visited you in the night. Every physical trace of him was gone like he was never next to you when you closed your eyes last. That morning you spent the day in bed crying over everything. Three months later you were still thinking of him and moving on. Only a year later were you met with someone new. A new adventure, with new memories, and new love.

It was the best of loves because you decided to let go of your last love.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray #finn cole #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #michael grey x reader #michael grey imagine #michael grey #michael shelby

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

CURSED: CHAPTER ELEVEN

“All is fair in love and war”

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: werewolf shit, guys

Warnings: death, blood, violence, swearing possibly

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

MACK clutched her head in her hands, her back resting sharply against the car wheel as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lungs struggling to keep up with her breaths. Tears streaked down her face like paint and her eyes were swollen with fear as she stared down at his body.

Ben's head rested sickeningly in a pool of deep crimson, his eyes frozen open like a deer in headlights, unblinking and unflinching. His nose was bloodied, his clothes scuffed and ripped and his chest looked nauseatingly con-caved. Mack chocked backed sob, covering her mouth with her hand. The more she stared at him, the more the reality sunk in.

She killed someone.

She killed him.

Someone she new, someone she once loved. She killed him. Someone who was worshiped at her school, someone whose name was on every certificate, every trophy. Someone who new her mum, her dad her sister.

A demented scream ripped from her throat like a banshee, her vocals straining to make a sound that sinister and that piercing. She kept going. Her world collapsed, crumbling like sand around her until only grit remained. She would go to jail. She would be sentenced to death. She would have to leave her dad. She would have to leave Kai. Mack's thoughts swooped through her like vultures, praying off her emotions like they were merely insignificant worms or insects.

The tainted sound stopped at the feeling of warm breath tickling against her ear. Welcomed hands on her shoulders. Comforting words whispered by a soothing voice.

"Shhh. Shh. Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me." Kai cooed gently, tucking some hair behind Mack's ear and tilting her head to face him with his finger and thumb on her chin. "No one is going to find out, okay? Just - just do exactly as I say." Kai's blue eyes were so calming, soft okie the ocean - blue and dazzling with sparks of hope like the theory of salt that littered wave tops and swells. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" He persisted and Mack managed a nod. "Good."

Kai stood up again, moving from his crouched position in front of Mack and over to where Ben's body menacingly taunted him. Kai scrunch up his nose, gathering saliva at the back of his throat before spitting over Ben. He hoisted the boy's body up, as arm under each armpit as he dragged Ben into the tree line that outlined the small road like thick, black marker in a child's painting. Setting his body down at the bottom of a tree, Kai sprinted over to his car, opening the door and flinging the glove box open.

He rummaged through it, tossing unwanted items on the seat like a scene out of a movie. That was until he came across what he wanted.

A small teddy-bear. Small enough to fit in the palm of Kai's hand; stuffing bursting through the seams, button eyes clinging on by strangled, old threads and ears half ripped off. He enclosed his hands around it, eyes rolling back and a small groan passing his lips as the glow emitted an orange hue. A warmth spread throughout him, filling his veins like a drug. Kai missed this feeling, the feeling of magic running through him. The adrenaline was heavy now, coursing through him just like the magic and aiding him as he ran back to Ben as fast as he could.

He bent down beside the body, arms held out and palms hovering over the torso and he muttered incantations and Latin phrases.

Scatters of ash floated upwards as spread densely to the sides, flaking off like tissue paper. The embers scorned the sides, titian hues edging them and creating a malevolent glow around them. When the ash cleared and the air thinned, clearing of magic, only an empty spot of grass that boarded the broad roots of the tree remained, all evidence of Ben's body disintegrated and nestling into the forest floor like any other leaf or decaying plant.

An abrupt grunt brought Kai back to present, making his head turn suddenly in the direction of Mack.

"Kenz?" He asked tentatively, but was merely met with another grunt, "Kenz, you're really scaring me." Kai said as he made his was round the car until he was face to face with her.

Then the screaming started. Mack collapsed to the floor from where she'd managed to stand to, her leg snapping in an unnatural manner. Then she jerked to the left, another scream ripping from her throat menacingly as her bones seemed to crack and break - her body distorting into a creature. Kai's head tilted to look at the moon, hanging mockingly, a full, bright, Pearl-white circle in the dark, spotted sky.

A sharp gasp pierced through the air, Kai's breath turning into a small cloud of icy white. It was a full moon. He looked back to make quickly, her form now hunted over, resting on all fours with her head dipped.

Mack's head rose from where it's been bowed, her eyes glowing with an intense fusion of gold, pain and fury. Her top lip pulled back threateningly, unveiling a pair of fangs which protruded uncomfortably over her bottom lip like small knives. All trace of Mack was gone, besides her hair and torn-up, blood-splattered clothes. A feral growl tore from her and Kai's eyes widened, his mind finally processing the situation in full.

And that's when he ran.

Kai ran, fast. As fast as he could; along the tarmac road, his converse crunching against the gravel grossly as he sprinted back to his Jeep. Looking back, Mack no longer chased him. No. It wasn't Mack - it was a monster. It's fur ran silky over its skin, dark silvers mixed with blacks, whites and yellowy-browns, it's eyes burned gold and it's ears stood to attention in the bitter wind whipping around them. It's paws were huge - as big as Kai's feet, maybe even bigger, and it's tail was a swooshing sweep of death behind it. Kai swallowed thickly, his hand resting on the door-handle now, tugging desperately and flinging the car open wide.

He clambered in, slamming the door just in time as the wolf scraped its claws down the side of the door. Kai winced at the screeching sound, cringing at the thought of the huge scratches that would be there now. He desperately tried turning his keys in the ignition but it cut short. He tried again and again, the sound of her clawing at his door making the desperation grow stronger.

After a short while Kai gave up, slumping into his seat and burying his face him his hands and hoping that she'd soon leave.

Mack didn't. She remained relentless, scratching and scraping at his car all night long. Kai can't remember when, but at some point he must've fallen asleep, as the whole world went black and all nosies were drained out.

...

The pale sun peaked over the trees, illuminating the dark road with a creamy-white light that shone over the sticky tarmac and leaves and grass glistened with the morning frost. Kai sat up slowly in his seat, groaning at his aching body and slowly peering out the window. Nothing was there. She had gone.

He slowly opened his car door, climbing out the black jeep and wincing at the damage done to his vehicle.

Long, jagged lines of scratchy sliver-grey were clawed down the doors, over the bonnet and the windows were scattered in lines of blue where the panes had been scraped. As he wandered around the car, Kai stopped in his tacks upon seeing Mack sprawled out over the floor, her shaking, naked frame shivering in the frosted grass. He rushed over to her, grounding slowly beside the girl and quickly shedding his coat. He spread it over her, pulling Mack's head into his lap for a moment and stroking her hair calmingly. When she didn't stir, he gently collected her into his arms, walking cautiously over to his car and placing her in the back seat. He looked at her, sighing as pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

While he drove back to Mack's house, Kai's divers gripped the steering wheel tightly and his thoughts spiralled. Could he ever look at her the same? Of course he could, she was his best friend, his... well, friend. The girl he lo-

What? He didn't love her. No. He just cared deeply for her, felt hurt when she was hurt, wanted to cry when she cried, felt immense joy when she was happy, could barely stand to spend more than a few hours away from her, not touching her, not kissing her-

Holy shit. He loved her. He was in love with his best friend, his fuck buddy. Kai's mind was sent into overdrive, his senses buzzing off adrenaline, but they were soon interrupted by a low groan from the backseat. He looked back slightly, keeping one eye trained on the road ahead of them.

"Rise and shine, sweet cheeks." He quipped cheerfully, smirking as Amelie sat up, the coat falling from her chest and giving Kai a perfect view of her breasts from the rear-view mirror. He whistled and she frowned. "Fuck, you have nice tits." Kai grinned and Mack's eyes widened. She instantly reached for the coat, pulling it up over her chest and holding it there with one hand.

"Kai!" She exclaimed as he started to laugh.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, sweetheart. And it definitely isn't something I wouldn't mind seeing again." He mentioned with a wink and she scowled at him. Then her eyes finally caught onto the scratches and scraped littering her shoulders, her legs, her feet, her hands. She gasped, holding her arms out in front of herself and examining her hands. The coat dropped again and Kai went back to his marvelling. Mack soon realised, pulling it over herself again.

"Stop doing that!" She said and Kai chuckled.

"I'm not doing anything, sweetheart. You can't blame your own...clumsiness on my intuition to see you naked." He smirk and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I'd be careful if I were you, babe, or I might get you to put the tongue to a better use." He winked and she gasped again, slumping back into the seats and crossing her arms over her chest.

They pulled into her drive, Kai stopping the car and walking round to Mack's door. He opened it, scooping the girl into his arms and kicking it shit with his foot.

"Kai!" She screamed, giggling as he walked with her in his arms. "Put me down!" She demanded, hitting his chest with her fists and kicking her legs.

"And let your dad think I'm less than the gentleman I made myself out to be last night? Nuh uh, babe." He quipped and Mack huffed, settling into his arms and he blindly opened the door to her house.

"You're back." Ian sighed, standing swiftly from the couch and crossing over to Kai, patting him on the shoulder and thanking him. "You're a good kid, thank you so much for helping us." He said in Kai's ear as the boy let Mack down and she scrambled off to her room. Ian sighed again, sitting down on the sofa and patting the spot beside him.

Kai tentatively sat beside him, kindly refusing when Ian offered him a beer, saying it was too early. They sat back against the cushions, a silence filled with awkward tension settling over them.

"Look, I'm guessing you saw...her." Ian started, gesturing towards where Mack had scurried off to.

"Yeah." Kai said bluntly.

"And you're still here?" Ian prompted and Kai nodded.

"I'm not exactly...human, myself." Kai admitted and Ian's brow raised.

"You're a wolf?" He asked and Kai shook his head with an amused smile. "There's other supernatural creatures?" Ian pressed and Kai smiled.

"Yes, I am a siphon." Ian pulled a confused face, "I'm a witch that doesn't have any powers of their own - I can only draw from other magical beings." Kai explained and Ian nodded slowly.

"Hey, Kai, do you wanna maybe go out? I need some fresh air." Mack called, rounding the corner and walking into the living room, now clad in some jeans and one of Kai's sweaters. He grinned at her, pleased to see her earring his clothes.

"Sure, Kenz. Do you want to start up my car? I'll meet you out there." He suggested and she plodded off. After the sound of the door slamming reached their ears Ian turned to Kai once again.

"If you plan on hurting my daughter in any way, I will kill you." He whispered and Kai smiled. "Got it?"

"Not like you'd stand much a chance.." Kai mused. "But yes, I understand and I have no intention of letting anyone or anything hurt Kenz. I promise." Kai replied and Ian smiled.

"Now go, have fun, keep my daughter happy!"

#smut #image #images #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #the vampire diaries #chris wood #damon salvatore #kol mikaelson #tvd #chris wood images #chris wood x reader #chris wood image #chris wood smut #kai parker image #kai parker x reader #kai parker fanfic #kai parker

[whumping-out-of-timee]

Rematch

Cw: Broken bones, Cursing, Knife injury, Sadistic whumper, Demons, Hopelessness, Blood, Character consuming blood, Implied threat of cannibalism, Falling from heights, Vengeful whumper

Previous: Welcome to hell

Red Masterlist here

*****

Niko was asleep, he hadn't strayed far from where Reyo had left him food and water. Scared that he might never find it again in the reflective glass. It all looked the same, the sky above tinted red in its inverse image.

Reyo appeared in a mess of white noise, startling Niko awake.

Crap, he's here

Niko's gaze settled on the small blade Reyo held in his hand. His thoughts raced as he jumped to his feet, ready to flee.

Reyo looked disinterested in that, his eye only a small slit of orange. The annoyance surfacing in his voice.

"Oh please. Sit down, or I'll give you a reason to run."

Niko sat at those words, defeated. What else could he do?

There's no where to run anyway

"You know.. I wish you'd talk more. It would make things more fun"

"I- I'm sorry-" Niko started to respond.

But, Reyo interrupted him, unbothered.

"Today I want a rematch, I've given you time to heal. If you can kill me, then I'll set you free. But, we both know what you did was cowardly. I suspect you'll be paying for it instead." At that, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Ok, I- never meant-"

Reyo glared a warning, "nevermind, shut up. There's nothing interesting you have to say."

Niko fell silent, confused.

I hate him. I want to kill him. I have to kill him.

"I hate you." Niko grumbled, not learning from last time.

"Awe, that's more like it!" He threw out his hand, the dagger flying through the air. It whizzed over Niko's head, clanging somewhere very distant behind him.

"Fetch, angel. I'll give you a head start. I'm sure you don't need it though, right?" He taunted, sarcastically.

Reyo raised his hand to the sky, his eyes had a predatory shine as he stared down at Niko.

Niko quickly arose, no time to worry about whatever Reyo was doing. Breaking from his gaze as he turned around.

Spotting the knife, he broke out sprinting towards it, coming to a dazed stop as the ground shook. Large patches of glass raised, reaching towards the sky. Creating an intricate matrix. He caught sight of the weapon, as the glass beneath it became slightly raised.

Great, at least I know where it is. But, I'll never see him coming in that mess. It's a losing battle

His disheartened thoughts were interrupted by a spiteful voice. "What are you waiting for? I'm not going to wait much longer. You'll be sorry if you don't play along."

Niko sprinted off towards the knife again, not paying attention to the fading laughter. He climbed up onto the platform as he came to it, turning his momentum upward with his wings. They were still foreign to him, but he managed.

The knife was cold in his hands. He turned around to see the place Reyo had been standing, he had vanished. Panicking, he turned around in every direction, waving the knife threateningly. But, there was no trace of Reyo anywhere.

Can Reyo fly? I can't remember. I can't fly well. But, I can't be on the ground if he can. The only chance is to stab him before he gets a solid hold on me. I need a plan, or it's hopeless. I have to stay calm until he comes for me.

Amused laughter caused him to nearly panic again. It distorted in every direction, resonating through the strange landscape.

I can't tell if he's close. I have to stay calm, get to higher ground

Niko curled his toes over the edge of the platform, preparing himself to fly. Flying was extremely tiring, but he didn't know what else to do. He looked up towards the structure above, a slight 20 degree incline through the air. It was very far away, a massive dead space between.

It looks too steep. And it's too far, I don't have the endurance, but I have to try. He has the upper hand down here.

Niko spread his wings in a strong downward motion as he jumped from the edge. Shaking under the immediate stress of holding his body stiff. His muscles were aching in his back, making it obvious to him, that he wasn't meant to fly. He managed to hold himself up in the air by his wings. Unsure how to move his webbed wings upward, without dragging him down. Instead he strained, holding himself in a glide for a few seconds.

I'm not going to make it

He tucked his wings closer to him, spiraling down to gain speed. Then he flared his wings, trying powered flight again, this time angling his wingtips differently. Acceleration caused him to soar upwards into the sky. Tense muscles shaking under the increased wind resistance. He made it to the platform, trying to swoop upwards gracefully before impact. Instead he crash-landed, holding the knife at arms length to protect himself form it.

Niko quickly clamored to his feet in the silence, looking over the edge of the platform. He saw nothing. Heard nothing.

That's a bad sign, what's that insane bastard up to? Surely he saw me in plain slight on my way up here

He went to turn away from the edge again, but something slammed into him hard from the side. He stabbed blindly and felt the blade meet resistance multiple times before his arm was grabbed. His heart skipping a beat with hope, before the pain of impact reached his senses.

Did I really- will he die from that?

His hope betrayed him when he caught sight of Reyo. The upper part of his left arm was bloody. There was no trace of a smile in his expression.

I stabbed him in his blind spot- figures. He's not going to be happy. Fuck, I'm going to die. There's no way I can kill him

His arm was twisted in an unnatural way, snapping as Reyo swung him around hard, letting go of him just in time to kick him off the edge.

Niko could barely move enough to generate the lift to break his fall. He fell slowly in a spiraling mess. Impact traveling up through his legs, making everything so much worse. The knife had gone flying elsewhere, he heard the crack of glass under it. But he couldn't focus on that. His hip and side burned, arm was sickening to look at. He leaned against the glass, struggling to breathe.

Reyo was there, behind him, and reflected in the glass before him. Both watching him between their two orange eyes. That smirk had returned to his face, despite his unmoving arm, constrained by the red snaking over it. Head slightly tilted as he took in the sight. Clearly savoring his revenge.

"What's the matter, hard to kill me in a fair fight? Want me to turn around, so you can stab me in the back again?!" He broke out in chilling laughter, breaking from the normal range, as he took a step towards Niko. He raised the retrieved knife to his mouth, licking his own blood off it.

That's sick. And, he's truly laughing at me now. This is his revenge, I have no purpose now. He's going to kill me. It's all over, no one will even know what happened to me

Niko was too hurt to move as Reyo closed in on him, trapping him against the glass wall. He rested the blade across Niko's throat, the bloodlust in his eyes was icy cold.

"Are you at least going to beg for your life little angel?"

No, I wont give him this, it's all I have left

Niko thought, as he stayed silent, only whining slightly in pain.

"I'll find something creative, I've never really liked the taste of blood. But, you know what I do like?" He paused as Niko started sobbing. "Well, maybe one day you'll find out." The second part of his statement seeming to snap out of his sadistic spell.

"That will be a sad day for you," he added. As he stepped back away from Niko, taking the threatening blade with him. Arm wounds closing before Niko's blurred vision as Reyo stared at him with an unrecognizable emotion. Unshifting eyes dangerously hiding his true emotions.

If I think he's capable of feeling pity, I'm stupid. He's a coldblooded monster

Thoughts affirmed by the next statement. "I'm going to make you suffer endlessly here. Even when you beg me to kill you, it won't be enough."

At that, he disappeared into nothing. The walls shifting back into a flat plane. There was nothing for Niko to lean against anymore. He fell to the ground, crying out as his body made contact with it.

All I see is red. Forever in every direction. Suffering forever, with nowhere to escape. Not even deserving of pity.

All alone forever. Living where I'll die

*****

Next: The origin

Taglist:

@abitefullofeverything

#whump #demon whump #nonhuman whumpee #oc whump #whump series #broken bones tw #blood tw #cursing tw

[jojoreadwhat]

The Ballad Of Me & My Brain • The City | Mini Series / m.h. of The 1975 x OC

a/n; I’m just uploading work from my Wattpad archives (user: sunphazed) this is a series I was working on and stopped and I kinda have hopes to start it up again. Who knows? Anyways, enjoy xx

WARNING; this story in includes triggering materials

Matty's POV.

The steel blue of the night sky collided with the amber gold that reflected from the lustered glass lamp on my night stand. I lied there, my hands behind my head as my body sunk into the chilled sheets beneath me. I sighed. Grabbing my menthols from between the box spring and the bed. My mind swarmed in a cloud of thoughts. I sat up a bit, bringing the flame of my zippo to fag rested on my lips. It's glistening exterior, warming the profile of my face as I held it close. The crumble of the paper disintegrating when I inhaled, exhaling slowly as I watched the swirls of slated smoke. Cut through the spring breeze of the cracked window, moving like the sleep I needed but couldn't grasp.

I looked on, tracing out the room I have began to call home in the little matter of weeks. Cream, dingy walls that held the thoughts of the past human once staying here. My handy work at it's lowest. Small snippets of the bands that played out while on a aimless route to nowhere, poorly hanging over my dresser. To a Polaroid of my baby brother that I selfishly left behind. Only to know it would be best cause he doesn't need a bloke like me around.

Back home my room was a shade of baby blue that was beginning to fade from it's age. Large posters of Sid Vicious, Morrissey. My shitty handwriting on spiral book paper, of my writings or of the writers that helped me to stay existent. Where I stayed up all hours like now, pondering. Thinking of my next move.

Beginning to think about the life I was familiar with before Handforth. My mum paying a visit today was a bit overwhelming. Feeling my mum's red dipped hands draping over mine, watching her smile, radiantly. I missed her and her home cooked meals. All reassuring that she was trying to comprehend this. Keeping it together as she was ready to unravel and question this stale institution.

Mike didn't tag along which I didn't want to see him anyways. Louis was at secondary and I was glad. It was warming to hear that he was doing well, picking up lacrosse and my mum called him out on playing my records. I would have loved to see him, but I wanted him to remember the goods back home. Not having to explain why I left home to begin with.

They haven't gotten the full extent on why I ran away, at least not like Ms. Palermo has heard. Being that if I stayed one more day in Cheshire. The door to my room would've been cold, metal bars. So it was safe covering it up with the story of the 'divorce' and that school wasn't cutting it. I didn't want to watch my mum's unsure sensitivity knotted into her smile, worsen by my dismay. Like the way it did when I told her I didn't want to go home.

I took another long drag, feeling my cheeks dent and the inhale sugar coat my lungs. Running my fingers through my jet black mane. I roused, taking a few steps to my window as the thoughts progressed. I followed the constellation of streetlights outside my room, remembering how on nights like this. I'd be sneaking out the window of my room. Venturing out to the city and sneaking into clubs my fake ID would allow. Ending up back in my bed before my family noticed, sometimes ending up in the beds of others. Women preferably of course. Which reminded me.

My vision derailing to the same amber luminous glow scattered in mine. Coming through the glass panes of the room in west hall. Emma's room. She was casually sitting on her sill, aimless looking up at the sky and all of it's beaded stars. Seeing that she was doing the same as me, pondering as the smoke left her lungs and into the night air. Emma has been a key entertainment since I've settled here. Finding her and I sneaking into each others rooms. To listening on low the beat up records the center supplied in the common hall. Discovering that had bit more in common than shagging about in the janitorial

I admired Emma. Her brazen tude, the denim short skirts she wore. The visionary mind above her shoulders, that bleed out on crisp thick paper. Watching as her silver covered fingers clasped around charcoal, pursued something bright. Noticing from time to time as her handwork slowed and a shade of rouge painted her porcelain cheeks. Today was no different than before, as I admired her. But earlier crossed my mind again. Remembering that I hadn't seen her wandering after her visitors stop by.

As my mother talked about the neighbourhood and the Spring festival coming up this Saturday. I surpassed her as I watched the other table near by. Emma with her visitors. One deeming as her mother. The same shade of honey dipped blonde, mirroring the same beam that I seen on Emma. Adorned in a pretty flowy top over white capris and sandals. Talking as I could word out simple things like 'I'm fine' and 'Okay'. Catching up and probably hearing the same lecture I was getting.

I glanced over a few more times, I was beginning to notice the dark hair figure that accompanied her mum. Broad shoulders, a dirty hippy as some would say in his Stones shirt. Old ripped jeans and beat up sneakers. Possibly her dad but there was no baring resemblance when sitting next to her mother.

Questioning why she never made eye contact with the man. Instead looking like she was going to hurl, on the verge of combustion as her lip became a chew toy. Following Emma turning in and disappearing into the depths of her room. I wondered why she acted in this manner. Why her blatant aura was flattened and defeated. Then it hit me. I placed the last of my cigarette into the cup with a drop of water. Looking down at my Docs that I had intentions to kick off, soon be double knotted. Throwing on my leather overlay and headed out to her room.

-----------------------------------

Emma's POV.

My mind was still trying to wrap around today. A visit that I awaited on Tuesdays. Once excited to see her. Now being replaced with a stab to my gut when she wasn't alone this time. Instead bringing the man that drove me away. Feeling myself in knots as he sat next to me, his eyes etching me out. Gazing at the clock for it to strike two so he could stop resting his viscous hand on my knee.

I thought she believed me. Specially when she told me that she made Frank leave after I confessed my reasoning for leaving. I thought I was noticing progress in myself, possibly even announcing that I wanted to come home. Something that I know she has been waiting to hear for months. Only to have that suggestion came to a immediate halt. I isolated myself in this room that was beginning to feel less safe as now my worst nightmare knew where I was.

Nothing being able to subside it, not even when I sat pretzel legged in front of the jimmied, handmade easel I built. With legs of a table I snuck in from Angry Andy flipping months earlier. Laces from my talking All Stars and nail polish that I remembered worked as an adhesive in my secondary Science course. I would've had half a portrait of a homeless man I seen on the street. Outlined and sketched, possibly shading in his evening shadow around his jaw. I never cried so much in the months I've been here like today. God, I was supposed to be making someone's life miserable than living in my own misery.

I grabbed the box of cloves in my shoes, misplaced under my bed. When the weakness of my limps felt like they had lifted. My feet met the carpet, suddenly rising again when I sat on my window sill. Gazing out at the night that had came upon rapidly than some before. Counting the cars that drove by when wishing on stars obviously didn't work for shit. I exhaled the sweet departure of the clove that lingered on my lips briefly. Cracking the pane a bit, as the smoke immediately evaporated within the gusts of Spring. I felt my shoulders slump as I sighed into another exhale.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed a shadow walking in front of the window. Of the room in south wing I found myself in from time to time. I had a feeling that Matty may have connected two and two together earlier on. Sometimes feeling his whiskey eyes on me as I began to feel small from the blue eyes stabbing at me like daggers. Matty knew a jist of my past, nothing extravagant but only enough to explain why I lied with him most nights.

He was learning though, just in the way his expression changed. When I met his gaze and all I wanted to do was cry. He knew this as that gaze trailed to my quivering lip that I was trying so hard to contain between my teeth. Or maybe he didn't? By this time, I would've heard the jiggle of my doorknob rotating. The boy with so many questions and seeking so many answers, seeing his figuration peering through the doorframe.

Eventually coming to conclusion that the casual fornication that Matty and I indulged in. Never amounted to anything past that line as he still looked out his window. Then again, that was my fault for wanting to feel different under the touch of someone else. I stood up from the window, with the clove still hanging from my lips.

Dragging my feet against the vomit colored gray carpet before towering over my dresser. Reaching into the top draw, pulling out the coral oversized shirt that could set out as a nightgown. Placing it on the top of it as I looked up at the mirror hanging on the wall. Taking my hair between my hands as I worked an upward motion to place it in a band.

That's when I heard the usual jiggle of the knob. My eyes meeting the boy dressed in black, head to toe as he entered my room lightly.

"Hey" He greeted little ways above a whisper. Holding up the door, there was something about this dark mass that crept up on me at night. His jet black hair, pushed back on top the center of his head. His leather jacket hanging steady over his broad shoulders, how his tee shirt and jeans hug properly over his build. Only wanting to tear each article off like the night before, because he looked so good and I was sick of it. But tonight, I wasn't much for it.

I looked away after I perfected a messy bun, shaking my head as I went to grab my shirt off the dresser. "I'm not in the mood." I remarked, a bit annoyed that he probably came here with those intuitions. I was wrong, profoundly.

"I'm not either." He replied, then.

My eyes meeting him again, following him as he trailed over to my closet. Noticing that he was bringing out my jean jacket. I placed my hands onto my dresser, my brow rising a bit. Watching as he stepped a bit closer, with a smirk paired with intentions I was oblivious to. "We're getting out of here." He stated, placing the jacket over my shoulders. Feeling the heat of his hands as they lingered above the fabric.

A rush of shock came over me, almost obliterated in the rush that consumed me. I wasn't sure if it was from the plan or the way it left his lips. My mouth went haywire, "W-what?" I questioned, then.

"There's cameras everywhere.... What if they notice us missing?" I began, then. My mind flooding because what if we couldn't come back after they had found us gone. Being taken out of my own thoughts when Matty placed his hands on mine that were moved in exaggeration with my talk.

Obviously the worry not consuming him like it did me. Matty's chuckled rippled softly through the amber lit room. I followed as he backed up, "You're worried about being caught?" He raised his brow at me. Feeling my cheeks warm from the slight memory of what he was talking about. I shook my head, prying my hands away, walking towards my bed.

"What about Ms. Astrich?" I spoke once more, before I spun to face him again. She was the supervisor at night, sitting at the front desk. Waiting for some sort of trouble made by the kids here. "Did you think about how fast I got here?" He mentioned, explaining that she was either asleep or off in another wing. Matty just happened to get by in good time.

"Why would I think that?" I exclaimed, folding my arms across my chest. "I seen you watching me." He noted, only to roll my eyes at how cocky he could be sometimes. Even if it was partially true, but I wasn't the only accomplice.

"You're a jerk." I remarked, my brows furrowing at him as he chuckled. "You were watching me too." Catching him off for a split second before he shrugged, "What's your point?" He questioned back. We were silent for a moment, looking everywhere else but each other as our thoughts spoke among us. Matty just sighed, breaking my train of thoughts when I noticed his dark silhouette heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my hands dropping to my sides. "I'm going out, like I said." He replied once more. Feeling this sudden sting near my chest when he said that, still not understanding why. Only thinking about how this might be the last bit of conversation I'd have with him.

I peered out the window near us, biting my lip in the same moment. I hadn't stepped into Wilmslow in months. I felt that I had lost all direction that made me street smart. A part of me was my adrenaline overflowing. I wanted to do this, bathe myself under the moonlit sky and do anything that made me feel sane again. The other was the fear of what to actually expect, and the stress I felt earlier holding me back like a strap on a bed.

When I turned back to Matty, he was inches away from me now. The light of outside glistening against his face, watching it dance as he moved his hand near my cheek. Moving some of my hair behind my ear that had freed itself from my bun. "Do you trust me, Em?" Falling nonchalantly. I chuckled a bit at how loosely it did too. Only to be dumbfounded by my return of an answer.

"Yes." I replied, then. Meeting his eyes that swirled in rich golds and browns around his dark pupils. Finding a sincerity in them, something I never found in my lifetime. Knowing that I caught a grasp of it. "Come with me then." He said again.

I gazed at him as he watched me sit on the bed, grabbing my shoes from underneath. Admiring his expression as it relaxed, only displaying that he was nervous too. Not having much of an idea of what we were getting ourselves into.

"So," I said, jumping to my feet after I laced up chucks. Properly placing the jacket he rested on my shoulders, around my arms. "Where are we actually going?" I asked, as silence filled in the gaps between us. Waiting for some type of shrug to play off his toned upper body. I draped my crossbody over my chest. Looking back up at a smiling Matty, a smile that only implied that he knew exactly where we were heading now.

"The City."

#mine #slutforbritdick #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagines #matty healy x oc #the 1975

[iboredteen]

Paper Planes : the prologue

" Staying up way past your bed time, sneaking out of house and partying all night was my idea of a normalized behavior of a high schooler - until I realized that my little detour was about getting a bottle of Lexapro instead."

Synopsis: Meet Jong Y/n ,a girl who has always been that one nerd right up in the front of the class who never really talks. Or the one who always wears the same hideous green sweaters which even makes the 53 years old chemistry teacher, Mrs. Choi nice looking in terms of fashion, who spends break time in that one boring section of the library where even the librarians stop trying, pretty much got no friends, prolly has no life. What are the odds?

For Y/n though, life is simple. No sad backstory (except a few tragic failures at making friends and a constant fear of getting sick),a full access to Netflix and frozen pizza and Raspberry Almond crumb tart every Friday night.

But sometimes, when everything seems fine, nothing really is.

In this twisted little paradise of illusions, two parallel universes collide and take off with a promise of blossoming memories, emotions touching the skies and a spiraling silence of chaos, just like paper planes.

Spoiler alert- if only they didn't see him.

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: A/u , angst (to a certain extent), fluff, slight smut.

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

Prologue~

All my life I've made a lot of wishes, except, none of them came true. Even the simple ones. Like jumping into puddles without getting in trouble or having a late night candy snack without getting caught.

Well, I'm still not allowed to ,but at least I have a hide out plan now.

Ever since Dad became a Congress member and Mom became one of the front faces of an NGO, 'restrictions' , 'responsibilities' , 'perfection' (basically all the scary nouns that ruined my childhood -which is also a noun) have all become a huge part of my life. The tiny middle schooler me didn't understand why all of a sudden the cute stray puppy became a 'touch-it-not', why the old swing set in the playground became a 'get-sick-soon zone' or why Happy Sushi store down the street became unhygienic?

I still don't, all I know is that these big words just make feel vulnerable, like a small girl left on her own in a world full of monster like critics and expectations and unlike before, no one really told me what was I supposed to do this time around. Almost makes me want to run away, but I'm not allowed to do that either.

Getting into the good books of people I don't even know was initially what I was supposed to do . Only, it didn't exactly go as planned though. Their 'ideal-model-to be' kid turned into someone who doesn't know how to have a normal conversation and is pretty much the awkward sociopath girl whose only goods are her overachieving parents.

Mission successfully failed, eh?

Sometimes, I wish I had someone to comfort me, to tell me that it's okay to be the imperfect odd one , to hear me out or just be there for those couple dark moments when my demons surface and just won't let go.

As I gaze at the grey cluster of clouds above, I feel the cold engulfing my hand and look down at his long slender fingers intervened in my small warm ones.

Maybe I do have someone after all.

I stare at his face which is angled upwards towards the dusky sky and take in his features. His blue coral eyes seemingly lost, nose scrunched up, plum lips slightly parted blowing air out through them and a broody stillness over his body form.

"I still don't understand." His deep raspy baritone shook me out of my daze, "Why won't you let go of me if you really hate me that much? All you have to do is take that one step and I'll be gone. Forever, just like you wanted" His curious yet strong gaze pierced into mine and I flinched.

A chill rushes down my spine. I gawk at him as a million possible answers swirl up in my mind.

Was it because he was the only one there when no one else was? Or because he knows my secrets enough to make me feel naked? Or maybe I am just pathetic?

I exhale out a long sigh as a droplet of water falls on me followed by yet another, breaking my awkward state of panic.Saved by a drizzle.

I squint my eyes as I look up and feel the water rush down drop by drop in elaborate urgency. At that moment I didn't care if Mom would ground me for staying out and 'getting sick'. All I could see was me and the gloomy mirroring skies had poured down in passive aggression.

"Come on", an intruding murmur broke me out of my stance. He grabbed my hand and ushered us to a nearby bus stand to avoid the rains. How he hated the showers.

I turned my head and saw the chaos around us. People hurrying their ways to the nearest shelter, kids being gleeful yet cautious and their mothers trying to get them into the nearby convenience stores.

I turned away from the commotion ahead me and saw him concentrated on getting rid of the wetness of his soaked shirt and it is then that I realized that as time passed, our encounters and separations became so vivid that with every alley, every crossroad that we passed, it all led me to this very place.

A moment like this.

A/n: Hey guys! This is first attempt on writing something! Hope you guys like it. I would love your constructive feedback 💜

#bts fanfic #bts #bts jimin #jimin x reader #parallel universe #shizophrenia #mental health #bts x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin angel #bts fanfiction #paper planes

[b34rg4r22]

The Blonde Girl part 2

I awaken to find myself and the kid on some middle section of a stairwell, very churchy looking, everything's made of wood and white paint, flowers and crosses on the walls and ledges, no windows, just a set of stairs up to the right and down on the left

I ask the boy if he's alright as I stand up and help him up, he confirms and seems fine from what I can tell, me as well, no scratches bumps or pain..

I'm very confused.. where are we? What happened to the woods.. were we saved?? I can't remember.. all I remember is falling and then.. nothing after that

I pause and just look around for a minute.. I decide to go down the stairs and look around, i ask the boy to go up and do the same, he looks at me terrified but agrees.

The stairs are built like a spiral, I go down and around a few floors, all exactly the same as the one we woke on, as I get down to about the 4th level down, I begin to hear foot steps coming upward toward the floor I'm approaching

My heart racing, scared to discover who or what might be coming.. but I continue down..

I reach the corner to the next set of stairs, I slowely pear around, and it's the boy I was with!? He glances at me in terror and begins to run the opposite direction

baffled I just stand there.. how is this possible?? He went up and I went down there is no way we should have ever met..

Moments later he comes flying down the stairs from the direction I came and grabs me freaking out telling me how he saw someone that looked like me, but it couldn't have been.. I tell him that i think I was me because I also saw him..

Both of us freaking out I try to come up with a plan.. I'm going to change something about the floor we are on and then continue down and see what happens..

I take a flower pot off the ledge and I place it on the ground, and we begin to go down, and sure enough, 6 floors down later.. there is the fucking plant.. right where I left it..

We begin to run down, an yet again, another six floors down, the damn plant.. again and again... Same outcome..

I begin to change things about every floor we pass.. every change I make, again and again as if we are on a loop..

We stop.. the boy starta freaking out, he sits on the floor eyes full of tears..

I think, maybe when we fell from the tree we died in that forest.. and we are now stuck in some sort of limbo.. I don't know what to do..

I calm him down and begin putting back the stuff I messed with, we decide to just keep going down, the rooms all back together again, all the exact same we just go around and around.. I have no idea how long but it felt like hours.

Down and down.. floor after floor.. hour after hour.. no change.. I'm beginning to feel weaker as we go. Stomach rumbling of hunger. Mouth so very dry.

at some point during our descent the boy stopped walking and is just sitting on the floor staring blankly into the distance arms crossed on his knees.. I keep going, passing him over and over..

After a while I realize something.. I haven't seen him in a while? but I keep going.. he's gone? 6 floor.. 12 floors, no one.. I double back up a bunch and shout for him over and over and nothing..

Confused I decide to continue back down... All alone now down and down.. when eventually I reach a floor that different.. there's a door where the next set of stairs should have been..

Heart pumping so hard in my chest, I reach for the knob but before my hand touches it, it opens slowely on its own.. there's no one on the other side.

It's a bed room.. a large bed against the wall on the right, another open door with a bathroom on the opposite side of the room, and an open closet next to that.. there are pink clothes on the floor and stuffed animals.. its a girl's room..

Looking around I notice there is a window near the ceiling in the bathroom so I rush over to look out, it's foggy.. so foggy I can't see even an inch out.. I go back to the bed and sit down on the corner..

Looking around I notice a picture on the nightstand, I stand up and walk over picking it I instantly know who's room it is.. the blonde girl id been searching for before!

Out of nowhere someone hugs me around the neck from behind "you found me I can't believe it how did u get here!?"

We chat for a while as I tell her about everything that happened, to my amazement she doesn't seem shocked at all by anything I told her.

She just looks at me smiling, her beautiful light grey blue eyes just gazing at me, I can't stop looking into them they are so beautiful.

There's a noise on the stares, she quickly jumps up and tells me to run and hide in the bathroom behind the stand-in shower and to not make a sound.

I run in and hold my breath with my hands over my mouth. Who could it be.. I can hear talking but not sure what's being said..

To be continued

#dream journal

[stuck-in-jelly]

Day 9: Witch's and Hot Chocolate

Me tiptoeing into the bnhawlw2018 tag: I uh can explain.

"SEASONAL DEPRESSION!!"

I'm getting better so I wrote as much as I could to make up for my tardiness @bnhawlwmonth

--------------------------

This is going to be quick she assured herself, all she had to do was get some herbs. She told herself thing but starting into the woods she didn't feel so sure, the way the branches reached outwards to the world as is pleading to be apart from the forest itself, the errire silence that crept into her very soul whispering for her to leave, and the darkness of the trees cramped together hiding any sunlight as if huddling together for comfort or warmth. She really needs to stop thinking!

She just needs a few herbs from this place just a few, this potion required them and she was desperate. With a sigh the young witch reached into her traveling bag and pulled out a small wand if you could call it that.

It was stout but cute, made of ash wood the wand was adorn with many decorations and charms; around the entirety of the wand copper wire weaved around beautifully, from underneath the copper special runes were carved into the base ( Laguz, Sowilo, Algiz, Eihwaz, Hagalaz, Wunjo, Kenaz, and Ansuz) all meant to help her.

Covering the bottom base was a light blue cloth simply their to make the wand eaiser to grasp, and last but not least tied on the bottom by a yarn was several crystals and bells.

Last but not least on the top her name was carved 'Yuyu'.

Taking a breath Yuyu closed her eyes casted a small protection spell on herself the words rolling off her tounge by instinct. Opening her eyes she straightened herself and took her first step into the unknown.

The darkness seemed to engulf her and in seconds the dim sunlight was barely viable. She muttered another spell and her wand jerked small lights radiating from the copper before racing to the tip and out in the air and small sparks before a baby blue light appeared by her side and quickly leaped from place to place lighting the area and waiting patiently to see where theirs summoner would travel.

Yuyu kept her eyes in the ground hoping to find the herbs quick. Clove, clover, and Camomile. Just those three. And these woods are said to be covered in herbs perfect for witches then again it is also said here some dangerous witches casted horrible spells meant only for harm. Again she has to stop thinking!!

The wind picks up and the light flickers and ducks behind a tree as Yu tries to hold her bag in place. Strange. Her spells told her it wouldn't be windy at all.

Shaky it off she ushered the light and follow quickly

"Common on now, lets hurry then you won't have to be hiding there"

She was full aware the light had no sentiance but it felt nice talking to it when she was nervous, almost as if she isn't alone. The light obeyed and jumped up scanning the area quickly before waiting again.

Walking off the young witch failed to capture a faint movement in the trees above and curious eyes the followed.

As Yuyu wandered she found many herbs she couldn't help but stop and pick up although she didn't necessarily need them. These woods were strange all type of flora grew here even tho they typically don't exists in the same area, even the types of wood from the trees changed. Some serious magic dabbling happened here to cause all of this.

The light suddenly brighten. An alert, it spotted something. Hardly thinking Yuyu gripped her wand letting her energy speed through it and glow beating to the rate of her heart. She looked around eyes darting

"What is it little light? What do you see?"

She whispered desperately wishing it could talk back but then the stopped its panicked glowing and lowered itself down. Yuyu stayed on guard her eyes taking up every inch of the forest but only silence and darkness greated her.

After a few moments she lowered her wand the glowing dying and her pulse slowing. Maybe it was a squirre-

A branch smacked her square on her nose, the pain was quick but the panic was quicker. In the initial shock she dropped her wand the the light glowed in panic again, her vision was blurry as she fumbled on the ground for her wand

"ABOVE YOU!"

Her voice obeyed and her head shot upwards just in time to see a large long slithering form barreling straight for her face quickly she scrambled away just as the creature made landfall rearing its head.

Oh god a basilisk.

She never thought she'd have to see one in person. The panicked light continued to flash illuminating the features of the creature. The creature hoisted itself up on its feathered legs, the large talons tearing into the dirt as its scalied tail whipped around angrily. But She dared not look at the face.

Those eyes could kill.

Just don't look in its eyes

"DUCK!"

No questioning. She ducked quickly her body acting on its own only for imminently feel a large guar of wind wash over her threatening to draw her into its current but she dug her fingers and feet into the ground as loud crashes filled her ears. The wind slowed and her curious eyes looked upwards to see a mass wreck.

The trees that stood mighty before all crumbled and snapped under the weight of the beast. It squirmed and withered in clear pain, its talons grasping for support on anything. The light besides it flickered before dying completely

"Get up we gotta go!"

The voice pulled her from the sight as a girl leapt out from the trees running and scopping up Yuyu's wand from the ground and some feathers from the beast before dashing to her side pulling her up

"It'll get up soon"

Usually she'd be opposed to following a stranger deeper into the woods but it doesn't seem like there is much of a choice here. Their hands claps together tightly

"Hold on"

The girl pulled her own wand, it was carved into a spiral with decorative crystals logged into the oak wood. She muttered a spell a smile on her face, their bodies got lighter and squeezing her hand softly the girl dashed the world zooming by in a blur barely registering what was going on. In a blink of an eye they were in a wooden cottaged.

A really cozy cottage, they seemed to be right in front of the main door and to the right was a living room and to the left was a dinning table with a kitchen behind it, it the center was a hallway and stairs that lead to the top floor. The cottage was painted blue with white lining the frame, the furniture to compliment house was a pale yellow with blue and/or white pillows or blankets. Most of them had some desgin on them.

The mysterious girl slowly let out of Yuyu's hand before sighing loudly in relief and laughing

"Wow! That was crazy! Did you see all of that?!? Hahah! Its a good thing you're okay! Gee I have no idea how that big guy got there"

Yuyu could only take in the girls features as she rambled on and on, her hair was long reaching all the way down to her knees it light blue and curved and curled at the ends, her eyes were wide and blue as well with a light in them a spark only a child could have.

Then the girl was in her face

"Where ya from? Your hair is really cute! Is that bag for your spellbook? What are you doing out here alone? Want something to drink?"

This was too close, she could feel the blush creep around her face. She was really cute

"Umm I uh yeah would like a drink. Anything is fine"

The bubbly girl beamed wider practically bouncing over to the kitchen and and fumbled in her cabinets before successfully pulling out a pot and setting it on the stove

"Care to answer my questions?

She ask as she set the flame and dashed to a curburt full baking ingredients and sweets. Yuyu considered the girl for a moment. She did save her life and seems to be making her some hot cocca in her small cottage. There is nothing to lose. Yuyu made her way to the small dining table and sat down.

"I um I'm from a small village by the riverside. The river has been cursed and a lot of us are dreadfully ill. I wanted to get herbs from here to treat them. It would have been faster if I am here and I was just really worried about them..." Yuyu spared a glance up and those eyes stared at her with wonder, Yu could feel the blush starting up again

"I-I mean we are a tight knit community! We all basically know each other and I- uh just wanted to h-help" the girl smiled and turned back to the stove and stirred the chocolate

"That's really brave of you! I can sense you have a lot of protection spells on you but the water has also made you ill hm?"

That wasn't a thing was proud of but she knew the girl was right, her magic was weak. The light spell usually cast 2 blue orbs that circle around the summoner and usually they don't flicker in the wind. Yuyu sighed and barely managed a nod

"You should take care of yourself you know, I get you're worried about your village but you won't do them any good dead" her voice was cheerful and light and Yuyu couldnt help but feel overwhelming trust

"Guess so"

"What herbs were you looking for?"

"oh it was looking for Clove, Clovers, and Chamomile"

The girl gasped and suddenly abononded the stove and ran down the hallway and disappeared past a unseen door way. Yuyu waited a moment before footsteps ran back and the girl appeared in her arms were 3 large bags, she plopped them down in front of Yuyu

"You are in luck! I found a whole field covered in this beauties!! There was defiantly a herboligst who worked here, maybe they divided the area by medicine and poison! The outskirts of the forest are covered in poisonous plants but the center is beautiful!"

The girl rambled again as Yuyu cautiously peeked into the bag and nearly squealed with delight, there was a lot!! So much! Enough to help her village. She couldn't hold her smile as she looked back to the girl who went on about the plants and the amazing craftsman ship of the forest.

There was a faint smell of burn "Umm ma'am?" The girl stopped

"Hm?"

"The hot chocolate"

She gasped and ran back to the stove turning it off as quickly as possible and pulling the pot away from the heat

"Its not too boiled I hope!"

She muttered a small spell and a small gust of wind breezed over the pot calming the stream of heat, she left it before grabbing some mugs and heading back. One mug had Jasmime's painted along it and the other had Lilly's

"Which would you like?"

"The lily"

She nodded and poured a even amount of hot chocolate in each up before making her way bbefore making her way back to the table and sitting.

Yuyu graciously grabbed the cup and drank, it was different but tasted good.

Then it dawned on her. There is no way this girl will let her get the herbs without a hefty price. Clearing her throat Yuyu got ready to bargain

"So how much?"

"Hm? Oh! I usually put about ⅓ a cup unsweetened cocoa powder and sometimes add a bi-"

"No no! I mean how much for the herbs?" The girl feel silent and blinked in confusion

"How much? You think I'm going to charge you?" Yuyu went silent now.

Would the girl charge her now? She could feel sweat forming in her head

"A charge...oh! I got it!" Yuyu tense as the girl stood her expression turning back to its happy state

"It will cost you 1 date!" Yuyu all but chocked on her coco her face burning bright

"Really? A date?!" The girl nodded hopefully.

Well this is too good to be true

"On one condition"

The girl tilted her head intrigued

"You tell me your name"

The girl beamed

"I'm Nejire! Nejire is my name!"

Yuyu smiled, this girl had to be the cutest thing in the universe.

The forest might be cursed but if it meant getting her a girlfriend she isn't complaining too much

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hado nejire #nejire hadou #yuyu haya #bnha wlw month #bnhawlwmonth2018

[adreamingsongbird]

can you write some fluff for me? i'm so sad today lol rip

hey uh wow same lol but i have this one wip thing that ill never finish from ages ago when a few friends and i were on discord talking about hp aus ft. durmstrang vik and mahoutokoro yuuri??? i hope it cheers you up

{ ao3 }

DurmstrangInstitute is, much like Viktor has repeatedly assured him, beautiful.  The castle itself is larger thanMahoutokoro’s jade palace, though Yuuri personally thinks his own school has amore intricate and lovely design, but the grounds are stunning.  He doesn’tentirely know where they are, precisely, but the mountains and lakes are sopristine, and oh, the green of the trees against the bright blue sky—

“Appreciating theview?” Viktor asks, drifting almost lazily on his broom with a matching lazy,content smile.  Yuuri shifts close enoughto gently bump his shoulder.

“Yes,” he says,“but I wasn’t looking at you, if that’s what you meant.”

Viktorlaughs.  “You wound me, dear,” he says,nudging back.  “Except not really,because I love that look you get on your face when you’re enjoying yourself.  Go on, keep looking around, I’ll keep quiet!”

Suddenlyself-conscious, Yuuri ducks his head as the wind picks up.  “What look?” he asks, squinting against thebreeze.  It’s cold against his face, and belatedly,he’s starting to realize that maybe an extra layer or five might have beenuseful before going flying up here, but… oh well.  It’s too late to go back to Viktor’s room todig through his suitcase now, and a little cold never hurt anyone.

(Besides, it’llbe a great excuse for them to have tea together later, not that they reallyneed one.)

“The one whereyour eyes get all big and shiny and you get that one specific little smile!”Viktor says, leaning forward slightly. He takes one hand from his broom to reach over and touch Yuuri’s lips,just a brush of his gloved fingers, and yet somehow it sends shivers of awholly different kind tingling down his spine. “It’s adorable.  Please, ignore myinterruption.”

Yuuri presseshis lips together and puffs out his cheeks, not sure what to say.  “I’m not adorable.”

“Should I saycharming, lovable, delightful, or scrumptious instead?” Viktor asks.  Yuuri leans to the side and dips into a lazyspiral, curving below and then above him to get a better view of the still,reflective pond they’re flying over.  Hissilvery-golden robes (almost pure gold, except for his abysmal marks last yearafter—well.  Now isn’t a good time todwell on that) billow out behind him like a cloud, and Viktor’s cape fluttersin the wind, too.  

There he is,Viktor Nikiforov in all his pink-cheeked, blue-eyed, silver-haired glory, withthe guts to call Yuuri the charmingone.  He shakes his head, scoffing.

“I can’tbelieve the man almost as beautiful as this landscape is calling me pretty!” he calls, swooping into asharp dive, sharp enough that he can nearly reach out and skim his fingersalong the water.  The surface ripplesfrom the wind of his flight, distorting Viktor’s reflection as he dives after.

“Almost?”

Laughing, Yuurileans back and starts to climb again, almost but not quite vertical.  The thrill of the fall settles in his chest,warm and exhilarating, and he can’t help the grin tugging at his cheeks.  “That’s what I said!  I’m sorry, Vitya, but these mountains are ina whole other league entirely!”

“You’re morebeautiful than all the mountains and lakes combined!” Viktor shoots back, hisvoice carried on the wind as he ascends too, zooming after Yuuri withease.  “So it’s only natural that I’d becalling you pretty!”

“Oh, stopthat!” Yuuri complains, ducking his head again to try and hide his blush.  “You big flatterer!”

“It’s notflattery if it’s truth,” Viktor says with a merry smile and a dainty shrug,coming to fly next to him again.  Yuurinudges his broom closer, until they’re side-by-side and close enough to touch,their flight slow as they drift on gentle currents like a wide, sedate river.

“Then I have toamend my statement,” he says, reaching for one of Viktor’s gloved hands.  “If I’m prettier than the mountains andlakes, and that’s an if, mind you, then you’re much, much more beautiful thanthe entire sky, and everything under it.”

“Oh!”  Viktor’s other hand flies up to his mouth,and for a moment Yuuri worries he’ll fall from his broom, so he tightens hisgrip to make sure he doesn’t even though he’s quite aware that Viktor is easilyhis equal in flight skill.  Probably hisbetter, really.  “And who’s the flatterernow?”

Yuuri squeezeshis hand and offers him a genuine, happy smile. “And you’re even cuter when you blush,” he adds, then immediately dropsinto another quick dive and a roll instead of waiting for a response.  Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he seesViktor, flustered and waving a hand in complaint as he follows,protesting.  

“I—what—I’m notblushing!  Yuuri!  It’s the wind!”

A laugh bubblesup in his throat and spills from his mouth, torn from his lips by the rushingwind, and Yuuri pulls himself into a hard, fast corkscrew just for the fun ofit, then shoots upward in a big loop. There isn’t much better than flying above scenery this breathtaking,especially not when one is flying with the most beautiful man in the world.

“You can’t justsay that and rush off!” Viktor is complaining, drawing closer again.  Yuuri just grins, feeling lighter than ever,all stuffed with giddy golden butterflies that thrive on the freedom of beingout here, up here, with just the twoof them.  He hasn’t felt this free in along time.

“I can,” hepoints out.  “I just did.”

“You better notdo it again,” Viktor pouts, eyes twinkling. Joy shines in his face, brighter than the sun, and his wind-mussed hairfloats about so enticingly that Yuuri almost abandons his hold on his broomjust to lean over and run his hands through it. It’s silvery-white in the sunlight, almost like a halo, and it’s kind ofa pity that they’re flying way up here, because that raw delight makes Yuuriwant to grab him and kiss him senseless, which would be a bit of a healthhazard.  So he really should findsomething else to distract himself with.

Besides, Viktorjust issued what clearly is achallenge to do it again, and what kind of boyfriend would he be to let himdown?

So Yuuri justgrins at him, competitive spirit coming out again.  Viktor must be able to see it, because helets out a playful groan.  “Oh no,” hesays.  “Don’t you dare, you—”

“I think youhave a really cute nose,” Yuuri blurts out, then shoots forward as fast as hecan, the wind making his eyes water. Behind him, he hears Viktor let out a shout.

“Yuuri!”

“Catch me ifyou can!” he calls back, because if they make it a chase, he can pretend he’sonly red-cheeked because of the wind and the chill, not from the embarrassmentof just having told Viktor he has a cute nose to his face.  And Viktor isjust as competitive as he is, so he’ll play.

And then it’son, up and down and back and forth and around, through the forests and over theslopes, skimming the lakes and reaching high for the clouds.  It’s a beautiful day, except for the cold,and Yuuri can’t stop laughing as he darts away from Viktor, who stays right onhis tail, always just out of reach.  Theminutes fly by like seconds, until they’re both out of breath, floating above aclifftop meadow.  It’s very green.

“Wow,” Yuuribreathes, leaning forward until he’s almost flat on his broom as he looks down,over the edge of the cliff.  The windpicks up again, blowing his hair back from his face, and he scrunches up hisnose against it, looking at the sharp fall of the cliffside, leaping down tomeet the cold, blue fjord far below.  Alittle waterfall like white lace dances its way down the sheer rock, so distantit could be a thread.

A sudden yelpgrabs his attention, and he whips around just in time to see Viktor go tumblingoff his broom.  Alarm bells explode asYuuri races back toward him, watching as if in slow-motion as he starts tofall, fall, fall…

…and lands witha thump in the grass of the meadow.

Heart poundingin his throat because of how close he is to the cliff’s edge, Yuuri urges hisbroom down, suddenly terrified.  Viktoris face-down.  He’s not moving.  Oh, god, what happened?  How did he fall?  Is he—

“Vitya!” hecries, swooping in low and muttering a curse as he tries to detangle himselfand his robes from the broom.  Dammit, hereally should have tied them up properly earlier!  “Vitya, are you okay?  Oh my god, Vitya—”

Viktor rollsover, his hands covering his face. “Yuuri,” he says, and his voice trembles.  Oh, no, no no no, is he crying?  What happened, what happened, what happened?  “Yuuri, I’m ruined.  My dignity is gone.  It’s all your fault; you did this to me.”

Confusion andguilt rise, and his hands still on the broom. Yuuri sits there in midair, blinking, before he finally tries to findwords.  “I… what?  Sorry, I…”

Viktor moveshis hands aside, and oh, he’s notcrying at all.  He’s laughing.  His face is allpink and there’s a shy smile there as he laughs, and now he’s holding out hisarms, the universal invitation for a hug. “Yuuri!” he exclaims, shaking his head. “I fell because—of all things!—I got distracted by thinking of how cute you looked just now!  Come here, I need at least ten hugs to feelbetter.”

Relief comesfirst, hard-hitting and heady, and it spills out as laughter.  ViktorNikiforov, of all people, fell off his broom because he gotdistracted?  Yuuri can’t help but giggleat him.

And then therest of his sentence clicks into place, and with it, Yuuri flips the switchfrom incredibly amused to awfully flustered in a heartbeat.  “You what?!”he yelps.  How cute he—but he wasn’t evendoing anything—!

Heat floods hischeeks faster than a falling Quidditch star hits the ground, making himinstinctively try to bury his face in his hands, and the next thing he knows,the world is tilting dangerously and then there’s a hard impact against hisshoulder and back and hip and ankle, and he blinks, confused, up at the sky.

“Oh my god,”Viktor says, next to him.  He starts tolaugh all over again, then rolls over and drapes his arm and leg overYuuri.  “And they say love gives us wings,”he sighs mournfully, and the entire situation is so ridiculous that Yuuri justhas to laugh.

He turns and isgreeted by those same sky-blue eyes he was admiring earlier, now sparkling withboth laughter and warmth.  Viktor smilesat him with all the tenderness in the world, and Yuuri presses their foreheadstogether, heart still pounding from the exhilaration of their flight.

“I still thinkyou’re very cute when you blush,” he says, and pecks the tip of Viktor’s (verycute) nose.  Viktor, of course, blushes.

“You’re evencuter when you’re making those faces at the wind,” he says, his hand findingits way into Yuuri’s hair.  The leatherof his glove is slightly cool against Yuuri’s scalp, and when the wind blowsagain, he has to stifle a shiver.

…Viktor’s capeis right there.

Sitting up, heignores Viktor’s soft questioning mewl and reaches for the buckle instead,undoing the clasp as it sits snug across Viktor’s chest.  Viktor makes an odd little choked sound.

“You know,dear, if you plan on undressing me, there might be better places than—”

Blushingharder, Yuuri tugs at the cape.  “I’mstealing this,” he says, tugging at it again, and Viktor stops.  Then he laughs.

“Of course,” hesays.  Then he sits up too, wraps itaround the both of them, and pulls Yuuri close, against his chest.  His arms are warm and snug, wrapped aroundhim as they are, and Yuuri smiles happily, leaning into him.  “What’s mine is yours.  I told you that when you first got here.”

“You’re mine,”Yuuri teases, closing his eyes and tucking his head into the crook of Viktor’sneck, nice and cozy.  The cape blocks thewind very effectively, and Viktor radiates heat.  He could fall asleep like this.

Viktor takes amoment to reply, and Yuuri blinks, opening his eyes just in time to catch hisboyfriend looking down at him with the most gentle, tender expression he’s everseen.

“Yeah,” Viktoragrees warmly.  “I am.”

#victuuri #sorry anon all i got rn is old stuff :( #im having an off day myself and writing is... hard haha #i hope you feel better soon!!! #written #yoi written #viktor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #anon #answers