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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset.

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it.

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud.

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds.

Still.

Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink.

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations.

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say.

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’

Nope.

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure.

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake.

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them.

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through.

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing.

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse.

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something.

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here.

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may.

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house.

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him.

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.”

Likely a lot of things.

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it.

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give.

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.”

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice.

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked.

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle.

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat.

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth.

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.)

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?”

Wayne nodded once, slow-like.

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again.

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?”

“I did.”

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say.

Wayne took advantage.

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.”

“‘Bout trust.”

Eddie blinked at that.

“Trust.” He echoed flatly.

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--”

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.”

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him.

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.”

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway.

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with.

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.”

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like.

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns.

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.”

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.”

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had.

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.”

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.”

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through.

Wayne sat with him as he processed.

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did.

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked;

“What if he finds out?”

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home.

It took Wayne a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret.

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over.

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly. It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself.

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved.

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’

“He won’t.” Wayne said.

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.”

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side.

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other.

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest.

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose.

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine.

Hurt, absolutely, but alive.

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body.

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol.

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door.

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch.

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible.

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup.

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him.

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely.

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior.

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.)

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!”

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it.

Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door.

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries.

“I think I promised you a game, son.” Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall.

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

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moralesmilesanhour · 5 months

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piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission:

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did.

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face.

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation.

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’.

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register.

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration.

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap.

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully.

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?”

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness?

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow.

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register.

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?”

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet.

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap.

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it.

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown.

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

You tap your nails on the table, thinking.

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too.

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face.

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother.

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler!miles #moralesanhour

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loveywon · 1 year

Text

♡𓂃 ENHYPEN AND KISSING IN THE RAIN !

pairings: enhypen ot7 x gn!reader (separate)

wc: 1.8k+

synopsis: when you and enhypen kiss in the rain <3

warnings: FLUFF, little angst if u squint in jay’s, (innocent) kisses, jungwon calls reader pretty, you can tell its rushed im sorry :(, not proofread Lolz

LEE HEESEUNG ♡𓂃

as you rush your way to the school’s gymnasium, a million thoughts are going through your head. your brain is still having trouble wrapping around the fact that heeseung likes you. you feel like you’re about to pass out with how dizzy you’re getting from the amount of butterflies that are fluttering in your stomach when jake had accidentally revealed heeseung’s crush on you. you couldn’t wait til the next day of school, no. another ten hours is too long, and you must confess now. it was only drizzling when you had left the house, but now as you’re nearing the school you’re absolutely drenched from head to toe, but you could care less. you know heeseung’s basketball practice is almost over, and you cannot wait any longer to announce that you reciprocate his feelings. finally reaching the two big gymnasium doors, you stop for a moment to catch your breath from running. the door swings open, and there is heeseung with his teammates, chatting, but the chatter stops abruptly upon seeing you drenched in the rain, alone. his eyes widened with concern, thinking the absolute worse like something happened and you had no one else to turn to but him. “y/n! are you okay?” he rushes to you, disregarding his umbrella. he could care less if he gets wet. what matters is you. you stand up straight, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. “i like you too, heeseung!” you say loud and proud, and heeseung’s teammates think that they’ve never seen him so frozen before. “w-what?” he’s still processing, but you’re so caught up on adrenaline, you ask him, “can i kiss you?” in which he replies with a mere nod, eyes still blank but once your lips meet his, he’s back into reality and melts with you.

PARK JONGSEONG ♡𓂃

you storm out of your shared bedroom with jay, your feet stomping as you grab your coat. “where are you going?!” jay asks exasperatedly, and you roll your eyes. “anywhere but here,” you retort. you didn’t mean to start a fight with him, but you suppose bottled up emotions got the best of both of you and it blew up in your face. “it’s raining outside! you can’t go out right now. let’s just talk it out, please?” he proposes, and he’s near getting on his knees for you. you don’t care, and you don’t give him another glance as you open the door despite the pouring downfall. you slam the door behind you, but it’s quickly opened back again with a jay running after you, an umbrella in hand. “y/n, please, you’re going to catch a cold like this,” he pleads, grabbing your hand to stop you from walking away. his strength is enough to turn you around to face him (without hurting you), and his face instantly softens upon seeing your soaked cheeks that’s not from the rain. “i don’t want you getting sick. please, can we go back inside and talk it out again?” he frowns, and you nod slowly. you know jay would never hurt you intentionally, and he’d do anything in his power to prevent anything from happening. you bury your head in his chest, and he rubs your back with his free hand comfortingly. he places a delicate kiss on your forehead, “you mean everything to me, i’m sorry.”

SIM JAKE ♡𓂃

it’s so cheesy, you think. the way you and jake run out in the rain out of pure impulse is just something you would only do with him. you convince yourself it’s because he’s been by your side since elementary, so you really only trust him more than anyone else. he drags you with him, despite your protests and screaming because you just washed your hair, and you didn’t want to wash it again. your “no! jake please, no!” falls on deaf ears and jake only grins from ear to ear with the way your hands are intertwined together and running away from the roof that was keeping you both dry. your head is down, trying to keep your face at least dry but jake won’t have this. he tilts your head up with his hand cupping your chin, “chin up, enjoy the moment!” he says so enthusiastically that you feel like you have no choice but to listen (not like you could say no to jake anyway), embracing the wet droplets that land on your face. he giggles, so entranced with the way you look so at peace underneath the rain. “you’re so unreal,” is all he says before his lips meet yours.

PARK SUNGHOON ♡𓂃

it’s so painfully awkward, the silence between you and him as you both sit at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to come but it’s been fifteen minutes since the bus was scheduled to arrive. you didn’t know each other well, and because both your friends wanted to do a stupid double date forced you to leave with sunghoon. he’s too gentlemanly to leave you to go home alone, but with the way the bus doesn’t seem to be coming at all, you let out an exasperated sigh. “sorry. you can go home if you want,” you say, but he only shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t look up from his hands, playing with the rings that decorate his fingers. “i’m just gonna walk home. it’s only like, twenty minutes. sorry to be a bother,” you apologize again, standing up and bowing down to him slightly. he finally looks up, “oh. i’ll walk with you then.” it simply doesn’t cross his mind that you’re living opposite of where he lives, but you don’t refuse because you know he’d still tag along anyway. the walk is silent, the rain really brings down the mood and amplifies the awkwardness. after a long twenty minutes, you stop at your door. “okay…well…bye,” you bite your bottom lip and sunghoon opens his mouth to say something so you decide to not completely move yet even though you’re absolutely soaked from the rain and he is too. “um, do you want to actually go on a proper date? just us two?” he asks, and it really takes you aback because you thought he had no interest in you at all. you smile, nodding as you hand him your phone to put his number in. “thank you for walking back with me,” you say, quickly pecking his cheek before running to your door.

KIM SUNOO ♡𓂃

one step out of the school doors, you’re met with pouring rain. you frown; maybe you should have listened to your mom when she nagged at you to bring an umbrella. as you’re about to accept your fate and step out from underneath the roof that is keeping you try, you feel a presence next to you. “hi,” sunoo greets with an umbrella in his hand as he takes a step forward so that you’re standing underneath the umbrella. you smile at him, “hello. i don’t need the umbrella, it’s okay. i normally shower after school anyway.” you brush him off, but he’s stubborn and knows more than anything that cold rain is going to cause you to get sick, and he doesn’t think he can get through school without you for a week. “don’t care! let’s go.” he grabs your hand and drags you with him, despite your assurance that you’re fine. as you two walk to your house, side by side since his umbrella is a little small, you sigh, making sunoo look at you with concern. perhaps he was too pushy, he assumes. “you really didn’t have to,” you say, but you really want to just ask him why, and he seems to understand. “i just want to spend more time with you. i like you, y/n,” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you can only gape at him. “oh.” you two are already close to each other, so all you have to do is turn your head to peck him on the lips. “i like you too.”

YANG JUNGWON ♡𓂃

late night studying in the library happens almost every time you’re with jungwon, so you’re not surprised when the librarian walks over to kick the two of you out. with continuous apologies to the librarian as you and jungwon walk out, jungwon hears pitter patter from outside the window. “umm…y/n, i think it’s raining outside,” he says and you run to the nearest window to look outside, only to see that he is right. you don’t recall seeing the weather app saying it was going to be raining today. you frown, “oh, i don’t have an umbrella,” to which jungwon replies with “me neither.” the two of you stare at each other awkwardly until jungwon decides to take the first step outside the door, to which you follow. he purses his lips together into a thin line, the heavy rain bringing you two to a dilemma. “well!” you shrug, grabbing his hand and dragging him out from the safe and dry roof, the two of you instantly becoming drenched. with a lighthearted laugh, you start to run towards the direction of your neighborhoods, and jungwon joins in with fits of giggles. “oh god, my grandma’s gonna be so mad at me when i come home soaked!” jungwon yells to you because the rain is just so loud, it’s difficult to hear each other. you laugh, finally coming to a stop to catch your breath, “not our fault the weather app lied to us,” you grin, and his own lips curve up into a smile as well. “you’re really so pretty,” he says breathlessly, his chest still heaving up and down from the run. “you too,” you reply, placing a kiss on his cheek and he mimics you, kissing your cheek as well.

NISHIMURA RIKI ♡𓂃

it’s one thing to be stupid and reckless, and it’s another thing to be nishimura riki. this realization only occurs to you now, as the two of you stand idly, drenched and cold. you sigh, “this is exactly why i hesitated to say yes.” you grumble underneath your breath, arms hugging yourself to try and adapt some warmth. he feels so bad upon seeing your shivering state, and he knows the thin jacket you’re wearing does absolutely nothing to shield you from the cold. so instead, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a hug and successfully warming you up (but you don’t let him know because you’re trying your hardest to be mad). “sorry, y/n,” he apologizes sheepily with a boyish grin, and it's so hard to stay irritated with him. you lean into his hug, “it’s fine. next time try thinking before you decide to get yourself into even more trouble.” you mumble and he nods enthusiastically. he brushes your wet hair out of your face, pecking soft and apologetic kisses all over your face. its silent for a moment as the two of you are in each other’s embrace, despite the constant droplets of rain. “i can call us an uber and i’ll make hot chocolate when we get back!” he proposes and you smile and nod as he pulls out his phone.

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @hyunes4ngel

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its-weeping · 9 months

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𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ! ‧ ₊˚ ☁︎

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓

✧ summary: hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry.

✧ warnings: hurt/comfort, isn't angsty but still implied, ooc

✧ pairing: neuvillette x reader

notes: little scenario for our judge neuvillette! this might not be good bc i rushed it 😭

"it's said that a dragon of water once resided in fontaine. though we don't know where the dragon went, every time it weeps, the skies will cloud up and pour out rain."

you have strong opinions on justice. of course, you'd suppose being from fontaine will earn you that mindset.

having these robust opinions has led many arguments with your boyfriend neuvillette, who is the chief of justice. it's funny, because the very thing that brought you two together has cut a few strings of love.

you had another argument the other day about someone on trial that day; you insisted they were innocent, and neuvillette justified they were guilty.

it's been some time since you've last spoken, but ever since then, it's been pouring rain nonstop. even when you stormed out of neuvillette's home it began drizzling. you remember hearing freminet talk about how when the hydro dragon weeps, it's tears fall as rain.

"hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry. what's wrong?"

you call on the creature pointlessly, feeling for its current state. you have missed neuvillette terribly—still, your love for him won't sway your own beliefs.

sitting back on to the sofa, you observe the rain as it drips and slides smoothly on the glass of your living room window. you've always found peace in the rain, its serene feel frequently calming you.

with a cup of your favorite hot beverage in your hands and a blanket wrapping your frame, you're set to relax in the tranquil atmosphere.

that's until you see something outside. you squint, sitting up from your place on the couch to try and make out the figure. in the rain, you see your boyfriend neuvillette.

you move to the front door and dash outside, not noticing nor caring for your now drenched clothes. the distance closes in between you both and neuvillette's hands drop to his side.

"what the hell are you doing out here?!"

your voice booms over the downpour, mouth contorted into a frown. neuvillette stays quiet for a while.

"talk to me, please. i'm sorry."

"it.. has been difficult."

"i know, and i'm sorry. i shouldn't have argued."

neuvillette shakes his head, taking your hands in his. you hear him sniffle and suddenly his tears stand out from the rain.

"no, i apologize for not listening to your verdict. knowing what relationship you had with the person on trial, i could've been more understanding.."

"it's fine, really. it's your job, i shouldn't even be involved."

letting go of an intertwined hand, you go to wipe away a stray tear. neuvillette softens at the gesture, smiling and squeezing your other hand as a thank you.

"let's go inside, okay?"

the man follows behind as you guide him to your home. just then the rain clears, and you gleam at the change in weather.

"oh, look neuvi! the hydro dragon seems to be feeling better."

your boyfriend wipes the rest of his tears with a smile, nodding in agreement to your statement.

"indeed he is."

#neuvillette our internally emotional bae <33 #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact #neuvillette #x reader #neuvillette x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 5 months

Note

saw your name on the erised particpant post and i'm so excited to read what you wrote! it's like seeing authors in the wild when they do fests and stuff. can't wait

Ahh thank you! I've participated three times in Erised and unfortunately, this year will be my last time for that particular fest, but I am glad you are looking forward to it! There's another fest I participated in as well that will get revealed in the next couple weeks. If you are interested in my past fest fics, I'll link them.

-Dear Cousin, Love Regulus [Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018] As the sole Malfoy heir, Draco understood that his path was set long before his birth; who to be, how to act and what his choices should be. What he had not counted on was the power of outside influences. Letters from his deceased cousin caused him to realize that he did have choices, starting with the choice to be someone else, to be who he wanted to be. The road to self-discovery was difficult and navigating that path in the shadow of Harry Potter was its own challenge but maybe, just maybe, his friends would help him along the way. And he would owe it all to Regulus Black.

-Ardour of Karma [H/D Erised 2019] “Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.”

“How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

“Mind repeating that?”

The familiar drawl had Harry’s throat clamming up as his blood ran cold. Oh no.

-The Forsaken [Harry/Draco OwlPost 2019] When Draco imagined his future as a child he thought he'd be a Potion Master, get married and maybe have a kid. But the reality was he was a retired Assassin, bitten by a Vampire and mated to a reckless, idiotic, foolish ex-Auror now turned Veela—Harry Potter.

-Borrowing Courage [H/D Erised 2018] After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.

-Save a Horse, Ride a Malfoy [HP Kinkfest 2020] Riddles are woven throughout life, some never answered and many lost in frustration. Whatever riddle it was that defined what Harry and Draco had was a mess of a riddle that worked for them, despite what everyone else thought, even if there was no answer—yet. Sex was another riddle, only that was one they had solved many, many times over.

-Still Standing [H/D Fan Fair 2019] Not many know the evil origins of a Philosopher's Stone. When Draco discovers that the Goblins found one and kept it, he'll stop at nothing to see it taken care of. Even if that means having to deal with Gringotts' very own resident twat: Harry Potter.

-Augury Forecast [HP Drizzle Fest 2018] Draco had always known that teaching at Hogwarts would be an experience, he just didn’t think that meant a flash flood in the kitchens, a windstorm in the Great Hall, or a sandstorm in the Quidditch pitch. Months of extreme weather would grate on anyone’s nerves, but to have Potter, the ever annoying Divination Professor, around every corner was even worse. So much for a quiet life at Hogwarts.

-Teach Me [HP Contest Fest 2018] "If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

No. All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.”

"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can't guarantee he will help, especially considering your... past."

"You don't mean Malfoy, do you?"

-Worth Betting On [HP Joggers Fest 2018] The easy way Malfoy breezed into the arena in an unprofessional attire—grey joggers that outlined far too much, and a white dress shirt open with nothing underneath—which showed off his chest, his sweaty sweaty chest—had Harry sitting up straighter. It wasn't unusual to see Malfoy in such a state of undress, it was a signature move that he refused to change.

Not that Harry wanted him to change.

Or the one where Draco is a professional Duelist, and Harry can't stay away from the matches.

#drarry #my stuff #XxTheDarkLordxX Writes #my fest stuff #didn't realize I was in so many of them over the years #i would like to participate in more this upcoming year #we shall see what life throws at me

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bentosandbox · 15 days

Text

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

#arknights #bentotexto #will blog about the festival in another post because i dont think theyll let me post that many photos #yeah i got the logos/theresa pillow but im giving it to a friend

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oddinary4bts · 1 year

Note

Hey!!!

Do u think u could make an JJK FF about two people falling in love bc of fate and coincidences?

I received this before my follower milestone but it works for the celebration I’m hosting so you are in luck hahaha

The Coincidence of Fate | jjk

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader

☆rating: 18+ (no smut in and of itself, just mention of oc and jungkook making love. Minors please DNI)

☆genre: slices of life!au, fluff

☆warnings: OC slips because of a mask, one mention of characters making love

☆word count: 1.3k

☆☆☆☆☆

You weren’t supposed to be here. You still can’t believe the series of events that led you to be standing here, in this coffee shop, drenched with water from the heavy rain outside.

First, you woke up this morning with an inexplicable yearning for your favourite cappuccino from that café you used to go to when you were in college. Literally, you woke up craving the taste of it, and the aromas that swirled on your tongue whenever you studied at that café, by the window overlooking the park on the other side of the street. So you elected to make a pitstop there before going to work, as your first meeting is only at 10:30 am anyway.

Second, you forgot to look at the weather before you leave – which mind you you never do. You usually look at the weather every morning to prepare yourself for the day – what you’ll wear, if you need to put boots or shoes, if you need to bring an umbrella. This morning you forgot, and your trustee red umbrella is still on its hook, in the wardrobe next to the apartment’s door. It’s probably laughing at you from where it hangs, warm and dry.

Third, you took the wrong metro line, which is entirely because you are so used to be going to work directly from home that you don’t even think when you do it, you just let the flow of the crowd guide you. It took you three stops to realize you took the wrong line, and you pull out your phone to figure out the most efficient way to get to the café. It turns out to be a bus, so you get out of the metro and wait at the stop two streets down.

Fourth, the bus drops you off a good seven-minute walk away from the café. Which you reckon isn’t a lot, you’re usually the kind of person that always walks if it’s less than a thirty-minute walk. But the rain starts then, just a small drizzle that doesn’t worry you all that much. It’s summer, so it’s warm anyway, and the drizzle is a good relief from the heat.

Fifth, the café is closed due to renovations, but another one a few blocks down the street took over their menu – of course the café knows how important it is to the university students, so it didn’t want to betray its loyal clientele. But that means a longer walk, yet it still doesn’t scare you.

Sixth and last, the drizzle turns into a full-on shower by the time you make it two blocks down, and you run the rest of the way, trying to avoid your designer clothes getting all wet. Which obviously doesn’t work, because you’re currently dripping on the floor of the coffee house, looking like a lost puppy in the rain.

You’re still adamant about the cappuccino. In fact, you crave it even more now – you’re going to need its warm comfort.

The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for a group of girls studying in one corner, though they seem like they’re gossiping more than anything else. They don’t look at you, and you don’t look at them, walking towards the counter.

There is no one behind it, and you glance at the double doors that probably lead to a kitchen or something of the sorts. What you miss then, is the surgical mask left on the floor by a careless client, and damn you the tiles of the coffee shop have been polished recently.

The moment you step on the mask you fly, and your back hitting the floor has you feeling far too dizzy for your own good. You shut your eyes for a few seconds, wincing in pain. When you open them again, you wonder if you hit your head.

If you hit your head real good and died, because someone’s kneeling next to you, and you’re pretty sure he’s the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your entire life. He’s got big doe eyes, a soft gaze that holds so much kindness you think he can only be an angel. Strangely, what your eyes focus on is the mole under his mouth though.

His lips move, distracting you from the mole, and you notice light glinting on a piercing before you realize he’s speaking. And he’s speaking to you, with a concern-filled voice.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

You blink a few times. “I think so.”

He helps you to sit up, and you’re painfully aware of his hands on you. They’re large, warm, and they hold you for a time, making sure you’re as okay as you say you are. His eyes don’t ever waver from yours once your gazes connect, and you’re pretty sure you’re hearing bells.

You are. It’s the bells from the door, and you let out an embarrassed chuckle as your eyes fall, and he moves his hands off of you to glance at the new client.

“Why don’t you sit while I take care of their order?” he suggests, motioning to the nearest empty table.

You blink again. “Oh.” You glance at the two guys that walked in, before nodding your head. “Yes, sure. Good idea.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. It has your pulse racing, in that good way you usually only see on a movie screen. Your gazes catch for a moment again, and it feels like the moment is stretching into its own little eternity.

Then the guy is helping you to stand, and you notice the sleeve of tattoos. They look out of place, on this sweet innocent-looking man, yet they fit perfectly. You gulp, before sitting at the table as he moves back behind the counter to serve the two customers.

His eyes keep darting to you. You know because each time he catches you already looking, and he sends you a small, secretive smile that has you think you have to know him from somewhere. The way he moves feels familiar, the stretch of his shoulders feels like you’ve seen it a thousand times before. You almost remember holding that large hand of his, almost remember the sound of his voice as he whispers against your skin…

You blush then, and your eyes obstinately fall to the table, boring a hole there.

You’ve never been a big romantic. Never believed in love at first sight… but when he puts your favourite cappuccino down in front of you, before sitting in the chair across from yours, you think maybe fate is just a series of coincidences.

“How did you know…” you trail off, motioning to the cup in front of you.

He smiles. “Intuition. I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Blush dusts your cheeks again. “Y/n.”

He nods, as if he knew anyway.

It’s no wonder you fall in love. No wonder the puzzle pieces meet and form art, because it was meant to be. At least that’s what you think the first time he kisses you, after a Narnia pub quiz date that had both of you sharing two pints of beer, because you both don’t want to leave after the first one. That’s what you think the first time he makes love to you, forehead pressed against yours as you breathe the same air and he tells you he thinks he knows you from a past life. That’s what you think when he makes you dance amongst the falling leaves a late October evening, and that’s what you think when he kisses the top of your head first thing when he wakes up on Christmas morning.

And a year later, when he proposes in that same café you were never supposed to go to, you think he’s your favourite coincidence as you say yes, yes to an eternity next to him. Because you know, you know now your life was just a series of coincidences, all of them leading to him.

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rivertalesien · 7 months

Text

Death is not the end.

The rusty creak of a weather vane cut through the quiet over the leaf-strewn grounds.

Staring at the words carved in stone, Clarke traced them in her mind, over and over, as she pulled at a handful of weeds and replaced the old dead flowers with the fresh-cut bouquet she’d bought at the little supermarket on her way to the cemetery.

Death is not the end. Death is not the end. Death is not the end.

She thought about the cashier who’d wrapped the flowers for her, an older woman, maybe as old as her grandmother, someone who should have retired by now (but who can retire anymore, she’d wondered). The surgical paper mask had slipped down the woman’s nose several times as she looked down at the thin sheets of paper, the skin of her fingers worn almost the same.

Who were they for, she’d asked, absently, reaching for a strip of tape off an old plastic reel of Scotch.

Is it someone’s birthday? Spooky time of year for it.

Clarke shook her head and smiled, reaching for a packet of Wintergreen chewing gum. Her heart was skipping and the sudden stops were making her dizzy.

“Oh, it’s a date, huh?”

“Sort of.”

Sliding her card through the reader, she declined the receipt and gave a short thanks to the woman, who adjusted her mask and eyed her as she took up her purchases and made a slight gesture with one hand.

“It’ll get better, you know. It always does.”

Clarke was unsure what the cashier might be referring to: maybe she was thinking of the pandemic, maybe she thought someone was ill. Nodding, she pushed gently at the double doors and stepped outside, moving smoothly past a neglected pile of small pumpkins resting on hay bales.

Reaching for her keys Clarke took a small breath, grateful that the skies were still clear even if it smelled like rain was on its way and the trees were drizzling red and gold around her car.

It’ll get better. It’ll get better. It always does.

Death is not the end.

Then what is it?

She shook slightly and remembered where she was.

Touching the engraved L and E and X and A, as if her fingers could reach through the letters and caress the person this once was; a face she hadn’t seen in three years, a voice she hadn’t heard, a kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone else.

A grief that wasn’t going away.

“I love you, Lex. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do.”

It was dark by the time she left and the leaves were piling high on the grass, crunching beneath her shoes like old newspapers.

She could still smell the rain on the way, but something had shifted. She was tired. Bed would be easy tonight.

As she started the car and drove off, the weathervane creaked again.

And changed direction.

“I know it’s a bad time, Clarke, but I was wondering if you could come in for just a bit on Monday? I’ve got someone I think you’d be good with and maybe it’d be good for you. Just call me back when you get this. Love you.”

Clarke deleted her mother’s message, tossing her phone on the saggy green couch before flopping down in Lexa’s old leather armchair. It had been her dad’s and she’d lugged it around from Navy dorms to small apartments until it had finally found a permanent home in the little Craftsman they’d bought six years ago. Clarke laughed a little to herself. For something she was so devoted to, Lexa had rarely sat in it. She just liked the aesthetic of it. And that it was her dad’s.

They’d lost their fathers at almost the same time, both men working in different parts of the same building, both unable to escape when a bomb went off in a bathroom and took out nine floors in just under two minutes. Clarke had received a single text: I love you, sweetheart, hours before she’d finally answered all the missed calls, still trying to avoid Finn, and couldn’t stop crying for days afterward.

They had met at the memorial service, where the President gave a speech that rang hollow and bitter and hypocritical and Lexa was forced to stand at attention with her squadron and salute the man who had helped ignite and fund the war that led to the terrible tragedies that seemed to be plaguing random cities all over.

Clarke had noticed her outright, recognized her from the news reports, though she looked more polished than the footage of her in a flight suit, giving a press briefing from an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic somewhere.

Commander Woods’ elegy to her father had been through clenched teeth and pain, perhaps only partly from the wound in her shoulder, where she’d taken two slugs from an enemy rifle only three weeks before. Standing before the congregation in the Sixth Avenue Church, Lexa had first said the words Clarke couldn’t get out of her mind, even now, almost ten years later.

Death is not the end.

Finn had shown up, though, uninvited, wanting to pay his respects, wanting to apologize, again, wanting Clarke back, again, and it was Raven who surprised him and dragged him out, offering Clarke a small apology as they left. She had just wanted to get some air, to be alone, to not listen to her mother grieving with all the other widows and to expel Finn’s presence for good. She could hardly picture her dad, even with his photo on the tall easel. Nothing felt real.

She hadn’t expected to see the rumpled military figure sitting on a small bench under the church’s stone lichgate, tugging at the knees of her uniform trousers, as if irritated with the material. She hadn’t expected her eyes to be so soft and gray or how quiet her voice could be. They’d sat together under the small shelter as the rain fell and the world slipped away.

Curling up in the chair, Clarke lingered in that memory: how an hour had passed and then another and how phones rang but no one answered them and how, when the rain let up, Clarke made sure Lexa followed her home.

Always staying a few steps ahead, sometimes turning to look back, never speaking, not even when they got to the door.

Clarke left it open as she stopped in the middle of the empty living room and waited as the door was closed and long fingers pulled down the zipper of her dress, then the straps, smooth over her shoulders, as a gentle breath warmed her cheek. As arms slipped around her and held her tightly, groping her breasts, as lips pressed rough and sweet at the wild pulse in her throat.

She could always smile at the memory of that first time, both in terrible need of something, anything to bury the ache, to feel anything but their pain. How they clutched and clung and held on for dear life as they lost themselves in one another and found it too perfect to stop. She could remember every detail: the color of the ceiling, the contrast of Lexa’s jacket, the polished shoes kicked into a corner as she was lifted, laid against the table, almost eaten alive, almost until she was screaming.

It was torture now, remembering how Lexa felt, how her hands shook, the glint of her watch, the scent of her shampoo, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at her from between her legs as she burrowed into Clarke’s soul through her cunt and made her forget.

Days of fucking and sleeping and so few words passing between them; that’s how it was, until Lexa had to return to assignment, had to fly off into hell and gone and how they had both shuddered, almost painfully, at that last time, in the back of the rental, where Clarke had bit her so hard it left a scar under her ear and they cried in frustration at one last release, slotted so hard and hot between them, pressing until it hurt, hoping the hurt would make goodbye easier.

But it wasn’t and it didn’t and it only took three years to get a yes out of her, and a ring, and a place for her dad’s chair.

Reaching between her thighs, Clarke ached now, worse than any ache she’d ever known, and pressed into herself until the ache settled a little and she could lose herself in sleep.

Outside, the rain fell.

“Oh god you’re soaked. Come in, quick.”

Clarke held the door open as Raven entered, dripping but smiling, holding what looked

like a bag of groceries.

“I was in the area, thought I should visit. Wow, Clarke. What have you been doing?”

Shaking off her jacket, Raven made a slow inspection of the living room, noting all the piles of books and boxes and empty fast food bags.

Hanging up her friend’s coat, Clarke shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold.

“Just thought I’d do some spring clinging, dust, you know.”

“Well, it’s October, and aren’t these Lexa’s?”

Picking up a dusty volume, Raven flipped through the pages.

Clarke dropped back into the leather chair and nodded.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d maybe go through them. Figure out what to keep.”

“She really had a library, huh?”

“If you want something, just, go ahead.”

Raven stopped and looked back at Clarke, curled up in her spot, a red-wine throw draped over her shoulders.

“Hey, I stopped at the Dragon and brought some food. I got those noodles you like and the chicken. We can eat and I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’m okay, Raven. Really.”

“You haven’t been to work for a week.”

Clarke sighed and pulled the throw up to her chin.

Why does everyone have to fuss?

“I’m fine. I get down sometimes. I’ll get over it. I’ll be back at work on Monday.”

Kneeling by the chair, Raven picked invisible lint off the blanket.

“Abby said you were thinking about quitting.”

“It’s got nothing to do with Lex. I’ve been thinking about taking up painting again and I just need a little less stress in my life. That’s good, right?”

Raven nodded.

“You’d really walk away? I mean, it’s kind of been your life, Clarke.”

Gritting herself, Clarke took a calming breath.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, I just need some time to do that. I need something different, Raven. I’m not like my mom. I’m not like Wells. They just don’t get it and I’m tired of having to explain it. I’ll be fine. I just need…something else.”

She was everything and she’s gone and took everything with her.

Rubbing at Clarke’s covered foot, Raven attempted a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m not here to pile-on. Come on. Let’s eat and sort some books.”

It was after midnight when Raven left, taking a box of books with her.

Clarke had tried to offer Lexa’s piano, but Raven doubted it would fit in the car and doubted further that Clarke really wanted to part with it. Music was Lexa’s first love, even if her dad and the military put it second and it was a love she shared with Clarke through mix tapes and play lists and old vinyl and late night slow dances in the kitchen.

In such moments they would dream up names for their fantasy lounge act, with Clarke draped across the piano like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys, but all the good ones were taken and Lexa had read where the actress had to wear knee and elbow pads for the scene, so the idea was often floated around but then abandoned by the time they reached their bed.

Sitting at the dusty keyboard, Clarke tried to remember a few notes Lexa had taught her, an old Billie Holiday song she’d always loved.

Ask the sky above And ask the earth below Why I'm so in love And why I love you so Couldn't tell you though I tried do Just why I'm yours

Resting her head against the top of the fallboard, Clarke’s hands stilled and her eyes closed, and in her mind she could see Lexa beside her, playing quietly, never looking up from her hands as the melody unwound itself from the instrument.

When you went away You left a glowing spark Trying to be gay As whistling in the dark I am only what you make me Come take me I'm yours

She remembered it was Halloween and she’d forgotten candy again and the clock had stopped and the rain had stopped but the music was too gentle and comforting and she could hear it clearer now, imagining a warm shoulder against hers, moving.

How happy I would be to beg or borrow For sorrow with you Even though I knew tomorrow You'd say we were through If we drift apart Then I'll be lost and alone Though you use my heart Just for a steppin' stone How can I help dreaming of you I love you I'm yours

The song ended and she felt herself breathless with racked sobs that wouldn’t stop, even as strange, familiar arms held her and rocked her, silently, and clear gray eyes met hers and nothing was real but everything was real and she felt her heart sinking and rising so painfully it might have been shock: the unspoken wish, fulfilled.

“Are you here?”

No sound, only graceful caresses across her cheeks, her temples, through her hair, and those eyes that saw through everything and said everything.

“Are you here?”

Silence again, then something like a smile.

“Do you want me to be?”

Tears were catching on her jaw, dripping into her neck and Clarke felt herself laughing. Maybe she was dying. Maybe this was the end of everything.

She pressed the longed-for face between her hands and the answer frozen the air between them--until their lips deliquesced in yes after yes after yes.

#clexa #clexatober23 #based on Truly Madly Deeply #I'm Yours lyrics by Richard Millen #tbc if anyone wants #ghost stories #clexa fanfic

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madwomansapologist · 1 month

Text

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

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series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr

#madwomansapologist #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness imagine #wandavision fic #wandavision fanfic #wandavision #avengers #unraveling you

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dameronscopilot · 1 year

Text

downpour

Kayce Dutton x reader

summary: You've always loved rainy days, and now, Kayce might just find a reason to as well.

word count: 800+

content: fluff, kissing in the rain

SENSORY DRABBLES SERIES -> prompt: Kayce Dutton + rain + dark green

When you step out of the bunkhouse late in the afternoon, you pause, inhaling the rich, pleasant scent of petrichor hanging heavily in the humid air. The sun is nowhere to be found in the overcast sky, the gray shade of which paints the sprawling landscape of the ranch in a muted, surreal tone.

Ryan nudges your shoulder as he swerves around where you’ve planted your boots in the gravel just outside the doorway, playfully grousing, “This your first time seeing rain clouds?”

You roll your eyes, digging the toe of your boot into the ground, the dusty pebbles scraping against one another as you shake them loose.

“It’s been dry as a desert out here for weeks. It just feels…” you trail off, looking for the right words.

“Like everything is just holding its breath waiting for the rain to finally fall?”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sound of Kayce’s voice, the feeling compounding tenfold as you turn to see him approaching, mouth upturned in a grin.

“Yeah,” you respond, suddenly a bit breathless. “That.”

And as the sky begins to scatter a tentative drizzle across the hungry terrain, you exhale.

–

Later, when the clouds have opened up into a yawning chasm, you find yourself caught in the barn, standing just out of reach of the relentless downpour as you gaze out the open doors. The horses knicker restlessly in their stalls, and you silently promise them that they’ll be glad for the rain when they’re back out in the pasture grazing the lush, verdant blades of hydrated grass.

The fields are thoroughly soaked through at this point, water pooling in some areas as the previously parched, cracked ground is now struggling to absorb it all fast enough. The looming trees skirting the edges of the property sway and dance under the weight of the water drenching their leaves.

You’ve always loved the rain—the luscious, earthy scent the oncoming precipitation brings forth, the way it effortlessly paints each piece of vegetation it touches in deep, rich shades of dark green.

The way the whole world seems to go quiet.

“You need an umbrella?”

You jump slightly as Kayce startles you for the second time in one day.

“Why, did you bring me one?” you ask, your casual tone warring with the way your face is already heating up as you glance over at him.

Kayce shakes his head, smiling as he shrugs off the jacket you hardly ever seen him without. “Nah, but you can use this. I’ll walk you back to the bunkhouse.”

You want to protest, because you can’t see a point in Kayce getting soaking wet on your behalf when you could just settle down in an empty stall and wait out the rest of storm⁠—a bale of hay can be comfortable enough in a pinch. But there’s something about the imploring look in his brown eyes, the way he wiggles his fingers a bit as he holds out the jacket.

His noble idea quickly becomes a fruitless effort as the wind decides to pick up when the two of you begin to embark on your walk, rendering the cover he’s holding over your head utterly useless while you’re pelted with an onslaught of wet droplets now falling sideways.

You can’t help but laugh as you nudge Kayce’s hands away, urging him to give up on the makeshift umbrella. In moments, your shirt and jeans begin to cling to your body as you’re soaked to the bone.

But you don’t mind.

Not really.

Especially not when Kayce’s standing there looking at you like that.

“What?” you ask him as you spread your arms wide, tilting your head backward and closing your eyes as you opt to embrace the feeling of the rain on your skin.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I never really cared for rainy days.”

You look over at him, willing yourself to ignore the way his damp, black t-shirt is now stuck to his chest.

He steps closer to you, continuing before you can respond, “But I think I might like them now.”

Hands dropping to your sides, you meet his steady gaze. “And why’s that?”

He reaches out with one hand, letting his fingers hover over your cheek. You can feel the way he’s waiting for you to pull away, the question that lingers in the space between his skin and yours.

The question that’s been lingering in the air between the two of you for months, since you started working at the ranch.

Lingering between too-long glances, the weighted pause between words.

But this time, you lean into his touch.

“Because of the way this damn miserable weather seems to make you smile somehow anyway.”

Your lips curve upward in response, and his thumb carefully brushes across your jaw.

“It just always feels like the start of something new," you say softly.

Kayce's smile matches your own.

And then the cool feeling of rain droplets on your face is replaced by the warm caress of Kayce’s lips as he kisses you, your mouth responding to his in kind, eager as the parched foliage welcoming the storm.

#dameronscopilot 2k #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #kayce dutton fanfiction #kayce dutton imagines #yellowstone #yellowstone fanfiction #yellowstone imagines #luke grimes fanfiction

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littlemisssatanist · 1 year

Text

Yeah… (Kamisato Ayato/Reader

I woke up a few days ago with a craving and wrote this in one sitting. It’s not finished. It has not been proof read because my beta-reader would have a conniption if she saw this (lesbians amiright).

Uhm.

Reader is gender neutral.

Not really smut.

Ayato is touch starved.

You reading this:

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair as the last of the flame spluttered out, leaving you in total darkness. Tossing the quill you were holding aside, you pushed back your chair.

Rain was pouring heavily outside. It was drizzling earlier, clouds grey and tired, but that was just regular Inazuman weather. Lightning thundered once, then twice. You grimace. The Shogun must be extra angry today.

It wouldn’t be such a problem normally. Normally, everyone living at the Kamisato Estate would be inside the manor by this time of night. The rest of the servants had already gone to bed.

So why were you still up?

You scowled, standing up to grab a matchbox from the tiny shelf attached to your dresser-desk. It was a mix of the two, really. You walk back to your chair, fumbling with the match and huffing to yourself when light filled the room again.

You scanned over the report you had been writing. Technically, this responsibility fell to the Head of House. Technically, the Head of House took care of all paperwork.

The scratching of the quill against parchment relaxed you slightly. It was a familiar sound, one that joined you at least once or twice a day. You didn’t mind doing part of the paperwork. It was part of your job description, as the right hand of Kamisato Ayato.

Paperwork was his responsibility, yes, but helping him was your responsibility.

You glanced outside the window again, sighing once more when the rain showed no sign of stopping.

And still Kamisato Ayato was nowhere to be found.

He had left the Estate in the morning, to go someplace he hadn’t told you, which was unusual in its own right. You knew everything about where he went and what he did. (A wonder that knowledge didn’t drive you insane sometimes. Kamisato Ayato had a tendency to be a bit unbearable sometimes).

But you had no clue where he was right now. Which was the reason for the tight and uneasy feeling in your chest. You play with the skin around your fingernails, getting irritated.

This was absolutely ridiculous.

A thud outside your room brought you out of your thoughts. You startle, looking towards the door. It’s handle turned with a creak, and you reached for the blade hiding beneath your skirt.

The door opened. Kamisato Ayato fell through. Speak of the fucking Devil. You must have done something terrible in your past laugh, because Celestia was laughing in your fucking face.

“My lord!” You gasped, watching as your employer stumbled across the room towards you. He was holding a hand to his abdomen, something red dripping down onto the floor. “What- what happened!”

“Close- close the door. Please.” Kamisato Ayato breathed out, collapsing. You lunged forward, attempting to cradle him in your arms, but Archons, he was heavy.

“Just. Just close to the door.”

You nodded, frightened, dashing to close it. Then you rushed back to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato instructs you next, wincing as he tries to sit up.

You stare at him. He notices, raising a thin eyebrow.

“Could I just- what the fuck happened?”

Kamisato Ayato let’s out a breath, shifting slightly. “I went out.”

“You went out.” You said in a flat tone. “Without telling me? Or anybody, for that matter?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, and his blue eyes looked at you with something like guilt in them. Your breath might have been taken away, but who can really say for sure. “I’ll let you know next time.”

You inhale sharply, glancing at his abdomen. “Never mind that now. Why are you bleeding?”

“Hm.” His voice definitely sounded a little less lifelike then. “Fight went wrong. Didn’t see it coming.”

“Ok. Ok.” You fling your hands around frantically, panic finally seeping in. “What do I do?”

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato repeated. “Just the top parts. You can leave the pants on.”

“Yes. Uhm.”

You quickly set to work with untying the knots on his uniform. Why were there so many fucking layers? You cursed under your breath as you finally shrugged off the shoulders of the final kimono, revealing his smooth, pale, unblemished skin. You tried very hard not to think about the proximity, or what scandal might be started if someone were to walk in on you two that moment.

You held back a gasp at the sight of the bloody mess that was Kamisato Ayato’s stomach. It has been sliced open, blood still oozing from the wound.

“Rip apart some of the fabric.” He says in between short breaths, chest falling up and down. You watched the movement very carefully. “Wrap it around.”

You nodded, doing as he said so, glad that the ghastly wound was no longer visible.

“I think it might scar.” You mutter.

He lets out a laugh, immediately wincing.

“Let’s get you into the bed.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso, feeling him tense.

“Are you alright?” You ask, worried, but Kamisato Ayato shakes his head and stands up on shaky legs. You shoot up after him, guiding him to your bed. He relaxes into it with an exhale.

“Do you need me to do anything else?”

He shakes his head again. His eyes were lidded now, as is he could barely keep them open.

“Are you hungry, my lord? I have some left over bread from dinner.”

He levels you with a stare, opening his mouth. You want to frown at him for expending too much energy but what he says next makes all thoughts fly out of you brain.

“Call me Ayato.”

You blink rapidly. The world might have ended. You wouldn’t know. Your heart was pounding too fast for you to hear anything, and your head was filled with that one sentence for you to think about anything.

“Hello?”

Your eyes slowly focused back on the scene in front of you. Ayato tilted his head to the side, focusing intently on you.

“Anybody in there?”

“Oh.” Your mouth seemed to be working again. “Oh.”

Or maybe not.

Ayato’s lips quirked up. He looked almost amused. Part of you wanted to feel annoyed at that. The bigger part of you was still trying to figure out what to do next.

“You’re red.” Ayato observed.

Your eyes snapped towards his crystal ones, and suddenly your mind cleared.

“Ayato.”

He no longer seemed amused. His face turned very serious. “Say that again.”

“Ayato.”

He shifted, hands coming to grip your biceps, pulling you to tower above you. The air around you shifted.

“Again.” He breathed.

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

And so it went. You must have said it at least a hundred times, whispering when your voice got hoarse. Every time you said his name, Ayato would shudder beneath you. Just the slightest of trembles. You could feel his skin underneath your fingers, hot where you touched him.

You slide your hands up to his hair, brushing out any knots. Your fingernails scratched against his nape, and Ayato let out a delicious sound.

He was breathing harder now, as you touched him everywhere. His bare shoulders, his strong back, his warm cheeks, his arms that were still tightly gripping yours.

Yeah that’s it.

Maybe if this gets 100 likes I’ll actually write the smut but writing straight people smut scares me so… don’t expect anything.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato is touchstarved #yeah we’re all going to hell #smut?#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #smut #sorta

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ticklystuff · 1 year

Note

for three sentence fics!! if you like the idea, lee!tighnari, ler!cyno, & tummy 💙

request a ficlet!

these are never three sentences bc i'm not creative enough for that hahaha but thanks for the request anon! <3

---

Most wouldn't describe the rainforest environment as ideal for cuddling. Tolerating another's body heat was a hassle when under high temperatures and the humidity often made skin-to-skin contact a sticky and sweaty ordeal. Despite all this, Tighnari didn't mind cuddling with Cyno. Maybe it was because of the way he'd nuzzle his face into the back of his head, or the gentle feeling of Cyno's fingers trailing down his arm, but Tighnari was willing to put up with grueling conditions just for Cyno. There was always just one problem, however..

"Tighnaharihihi!"

"Ah, sorry," he mumbled, having been jolted out of the daze he was currently enjoying. He craned his neck to look at the other behind him, just barely catching a glimpse of the smile that accompanied Cyno's laugh. "I just can't help it sometimes. It's not my fault I was born with a fluffy tail."

"And it's not my fault I might be.. a little sensitive." The subtle hesitation in his voice did not go unnoticed. "Just don't move your tail so much."

"Alright, I'll try."

But why do that when Tighnari could enjoy the sound of Cyno's laughter instead? By now, the sound of Cyno's breathing had reverted to its steady form, easy pickings should Tighnari allow those impish thoughts to win over. His laughter would complement the pitter-patter of the rain outside nicely, Tighnari imagined...

"Ah-! Hehehey! Stop! You're doing it again!"

Tighnari giggled to himself when he felt Cyno grab at his tail. "Sorry, I just couldn't help myself," he admitted, chuckling when all he received was silence. What exactly was stopping him from making a few discreet swipes to Cyno's bare tummy? It was so easy, after all.

Before he could even think about pulling the same trick, though, Tighnari suddenly felt Cyno's legs cross over his own, before he was pulled in tighter by Cyno's arms, effectively trapping him against the other's body. He barely had time to react before Cyno's hands made their presence known at his own stomach, effectively sending Tighnari into a squealing fit.

"W-Wahahahit! CynohOHOhoho!"

"See?" Cyno chided him, digging into the soft skin with just two fingers. "Not very fun when you're on the receiving end."

Tighnari uselessly banged his balled-up hands against Cyno's arms in an effort to have the other release him, but it was all for naught. His legs pinned by Cyno's own meant that he couldn't even try to kick free and at this point, all Tighnari could do was throw his head back against Cyno's chest and let his laughter flow freely, face flushed as he endured the consequences of his own actions. It didn't help that the light drizzle of rain from before seemed to have come to a halt, effectively amplifying the sound of his laughter for all of Gandharva Ville to hear.

"Okahahay! SohoHOHOHorry! I'm sohohohorry!"

"Promise?"

"PromihiHIhise!"

Cyno's tickling didn't let up immediately, but he did loosen his grip, allowing Tighnari to effectively push himself away and escape the tickling, rolling off the bed and standing at the side, huffing with annoyance as he looked down at the other, ears flattened with embarrassment.

"You were the one that started it," Cyno said with a straight face, though Tighnari could feel the slight tease to his voice.

"Fine, fine, let's call a truce," Tighnari admitted reluctantly. He watched as Cyno patted the empty spot on the bed, beckoning for the forest range to come back. With an audible sigh, Tighnari hopped back into the bed, feeling Cyno's arms embrace him once more, this time with his fluffy tail out of reach of Cyno's stomach.

#cynonari #cynari #cyno #tighnari #genshin impact #tickling #is it cynonari or cynari #i never know so i'm tagging both

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 10 months

Note

Hi hi!! mm foul legacy is buzzing around my brain againn, brain dump teehee

thinking about Foul Legacy having a partner who adores rain and thunderstorms, always curled up in blankets near a window when its raining, getting excited when it rains, and Foul Legacy just doesn’t get it.

Big Little mothman hasn’t a clue why you like rain and storms, they’re loud and you get all wet, how could you enjoy them?? But he also feels bad when you complain about the lack of rain when the weather is clear skies all day for the second week in a row, he wishes he could help.

Reader and Foul Legacy sitting in a dark room with only candle light, its pouring outside, Foul Legacy is curled up around you as you read a book, idly petting his hair. Oughh my babyy

[📺]

anon this is SO me, i love the rain and the ambiance it provides (and it hasn't rained in WEEKS summer i tell you >:(

Childe really doesn't understand your love of rain- it's cold and wet and tracks mud everywhere! plus his wings become waterlogged very quickly, which is always a pain to deal with. and yet, somehow, you're fascinated by downpours and drizzles. your favorite autumn activity is to perch yourself near a window with a cup of tea and a good book, glancing up at the raindrops sliding down the glass every so often; in the summer, if it's warm enough, you'll go and stand outside with an umbrella during a storm. truly, your behavior confuses him- but he certainly won't complain if it means that you're able to protect him when the weather is particularly fierce, as Foul Legacy hates lightning and thunder more than almost anything

it's not uncommon, especially during the stormier months, to find you and Childe snuggled on the couch during the evening. he's curled around you, rumbling and playing with the hem of your shirt as you read, blankets and quilts piled around him in a comfy mound. the covers are for thunder and lightning, so Legacy can duck under them to hide but still be near you, only his horns and one clawed hand sticking out so he can lace his fingers with yours. storms are too loud and frightening for him, but with you by his side, he feels like he could be brave enough to face the Raiden Shogun herself... just a little bit <33

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #📺anon #GAHHHH WHERE'S THE RAINNNNN #IT'S SO DRY AND WARM OUTSIDE I NEED MOISTURE #I NEED A DOWNPOUR PLEASEEEE I'M SHRIVELING UP #I'M A RAISIN!!!!!!!#oh sidenote i think foul legacy loves the way everything smells after a good rain #short scenario #other's stuff #FAVE #good evening :)

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cheerstotheelites-if · 1 year

Note

[grasp] with emery please? But obviously it's him that's running/jumping to mc

Prompt List

❛ grasp . run to my muse & jump into their arms .

=-=-=

We'll be there when you turn that corner, We'll jump out the bush, With a big bear hug and a smile, We'll be there! - We'll Be There - Estelle (We Bare Bears Theme Song)

=-=-=

It's pouring outside.

Not too heavy to make it a storm, and not too light to make it a drizzle.

Just the inbetween on this cloudy afternoon.

You sit by the porch steps, umbrella open and held over you to keep you shielded and dry. Your eyes stay focused on the little boy in a bright green frog rain coat and matching green boots, giggling and laughing as he jumps from puddle to puddle.

Emery insisted on going out today, much to your silent dismay. As much as you love the rainy weather and the atmosphere it brings at times (and an excuse to be snuggled up under the blankets), you rather not be in it and get soaked.

You've been called a cat before because of this reason alone. Thanks, Weylyn.

Emery continues to run around the front yard, picking up random things then putting them back, and looking under empty turned over pots or random rocks. You let out a yawn, both a bit bored and sleepy from the comforting chill of the rain.

Then you heard it.

Running.

Like a wild rabbit in the woods, you look where the noise is coming from in alert.

And then—

"AH, CRA—" You fall back, hands fumbling to catch yourself on the steps, umbrella now discarded to the side.

Your front is damp, your clothes absorbing the rain covered little frog boy now hugging you with a smile on his face and somehow small twigs and leaves in his unruly hair. The rest of you and whatever remainder of dry clothing is next to follow, the rain being generous enough to not leave any part of you dry.

How delightful.

You sigh, and look down at Emery.

"Why?" You ask him, voice flat in resignation at your faith.

"Because I found something!" He replies giddily as he pulls back and search through the huge front pockets of his rain coat, with what you now realize are dirt and mud covered hands. Something inside you died a little at seeing that. You sit up with a small sigh, grabbing the umbrella again and opting instead to close it. Well, you're already wet, so why bother trying to keep the rain away?

So long to your favorite sweater, sadly.

Hopefully the rain will at least wash off the small, muddy hand stains.

A small "Aha!" comes from Emery as he pulls out a handful of smooth pebbles and somehow a snail got in the mix too. "This is for you." He says, showing the pebbles to you proudly. "Do you like them? I had to look hard for these!"

"Does it include the snail?" You ask him with a small chuckle as you shift to sit up properly.

"The what?" He lowers his hands and looks, letting out a gasp of surprise. "There is a snail! An intruder!"

"No, I just think the snail is asking to be put back home." You gently pick up the snail by its shell and stand up. "Come on."

Emery scrambles to put the pebbles on the porch steps, before hastily catching up to your side. You both head over to the nearest patch of plants by the fence. You kneel down, gently putting the snail on the sturdiest leaf you can find.

"See? No harm no—OOF." Once again, you've been surprised hug by the owlet. He hides his face in your chest for a bit, before looking up at you with a smile.

"I'm a snail now!" He declares with a giggle.

"Alright, alright." You chuckle, easily picking up Emery into your arms, who laughs at how swift you did it. "Let's get you home too."

"Don't forget my gift! They're snails too."

"I'll bring them back home too, I promise."

#prompt #MC #Emery

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jellyfishbeansontoast · 2 years

Text

Coffee shop craze

Who knew serving a boy named Peter in the coffee shop you work at would end up with spiderman in your bathroom.

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

“One caramel iced frappe” you call out. You’d been working in the coffee shop for about a year, you’d gotten used to the slow stream of regular customers, memorising their orders. There was one you particularly looked forward to, the caramel macchiato order that came in every day without fail. You’d developed a bit of a crush on the curly haired boy who always ordered the same thing every day. The only information you had about him was his name, you remembered the first time you’d written it on his cup. As if on queue you could see him in the line. You reminisce on the first time you’d seen him in the shop.

His eyes flickered nervously at the menu, a first-time coffee buyer you sighed internally. Usually, these people took the longest and held up the rest of the queue, a tributing factor to why you were late home ninety percent of the time. If he took too long you were bound to hear about it from your boss.

“I’ve never really gotten a coffee before” he begins with the regular spiel everyone gives “what would you recommend?” He has a nice smile, and you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“The caramel macchiato’s a good option?” you say the same thing to everyone who asks but he didn’t need to know that.

“Great, I’ll have one of them please, and my names Peter” you raise a questioning eyebrow “for the cup” he stammers.

“Just the same, please” he says with a smile. His voice is as smooth as the caramel syrup drizzled in his drink. Sometimes he stayed in the café, choosing a window seat to sit at with a book. You’d first thought about how cute he was when you’d seen him studying with a chemistry pun t-shirt on. This time once he’s got his drink he hurries out, the bell ringing behind him. Your attention on him is snapped away by another customer, you turn to them ready to begin the monotonous process of making their order.

Your friends knew about Peter, nicknaming him coffee shop boy. They’d begged you to ask him out, coming up with millions of ways for you to do it. The first idea was shot down immediately, there was no way you were going to ask him out in front of everyone else in the shop publicly. The second idea was better, writing your number on his cup, but you still refused. He could have a girlfriend anyway, you kept trying to remind them that the only thing you know about him is his name.

Once the clock crawls its way to five you begin to shut up. Herding the last remaining customers out with their drinks and starting to clean. It didn’t usually take long when there were multiple people on shift, but everyone was either busy or sick.

You return to your flat a couple hours later. Entering the apartment you make your way to the bedroom, exhausted from your day at work. Its already gotten dark since you walked back from the shop, the orange glow from a streetlight by the window is the only thing illuminating your room. You hadn’t turned any lights on yet, choosing to see only by the light from outside. Opening the window, you breathe in the fresh cold air. You curse at the straighteners you’d left plugged in all day; it was a wonder you hadn’t burnt down the building yet.

You were just about to get into bed when something or someone came crashing through your window. Your first instinct is to grab the hair straighteners, holding them in front of you like a weapon. The body on your floor groans, at least you wouldn’t have to call the police and explain how a dead body made it through your window, not that an alive one was any less concerning.

The person lifts their head, and you can just about make out the spiderman mask. Was this a joke? Why was spiderman on the floor of your bedroom after flying through your window?

“I didn’t think anyone was in” his voice is strangely familiar although muffled through the mask. He tries to stand up and although you can’t see his face, you’re pretty sure he’s grimacing in pain. There’s a blood stain on the side of his suit and you’re sure he probably has more injuries elsewhere.

You rush forward, picking him up off the floor and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, manoeuvring the two of you towards the bathroom, there’s no way you’d be able to explain a blood stain on your carpet to your landlord. You lower him onto the edge of the tub, stepping back to examine the situation. You pinch your arm in disbelief, you still can’t quite believe that spiderman is in your bathroom after falling through your bedroom window.

“Can I take your mask off?” he nods in response, and you begin to gently peel it off, being careful of any other wounds he might have. Coffee shop boy stares back at you. As if your night couldn’t get any weirder. “Peter?”

“Surprise” his voice is weak, and his head falls forward into you, almost falling off the bath. Your hands grip his shoulders as you rebalance him.

You reach for the first aid kit in your bathroom cupboard. You cup his face in your hands, lifting his head up to look at yours. He hisses in pain as you begin to clean his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, dried blood flaking off. “I should probably look at that” you gesture towards the blood on the side of his suit. It doesn’t take you long to finish bandaging it.

“Sorry” his voice is barely a whisper.

“It’s fine, not every day a superhero comes through your window is it”

“Picked a good window to fall through didn’t I” you can feel your face heating up.

“Shut up coffee boy”

“Oh, I’ve got a nickname” he raises his eyebrows suggestively, colour returning to his face.

You slap a hand across your mouth “I wasn’t meant to say that”

He laughs and stands up, he’s still a bit wobbly on his feet but he isn’t at risk of falling over anymore, you reach up to steady him anyway. His lips are on yours before you can process it, they’re soft against yours and you can taste a hint of coffee on his breath. Your fingers run through his hair before you split for breath. He rests his forehead against yours. “Do you want to get a coffee with me sometime?” he smirks.

“I’ll make the coffee” you retort. Who knew serving a cute boy in a coffee shop would lead to kissing spiderman in your bathroom.

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