#//violet heart is his dance teacher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roseamongroses · 2 months ago

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with strange tenderness ch: 6/7

Melvika - Timebomb [side] Alternate Universe - Modern Setting /Alternate Universe - Small Town /Artist Mel Medarda/ Muse! Sevika /Court Mandated Found Family/ Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough (Arcane: League of Legends)/ Retired! Sevika/ Parental Death/ Past Traumatic Events/ Past Violence & Stalking/ Mild Sexual Content/ Dog/Cat Dynamic/ Canon-Typical Exploitation of the Working Class/Mentions of Police Brutality/ Microgression/ no beta we die like Silco/ Vitiligo! Mel/ repeated silco slander/ Hurt/Comfort/ Past Child Abuse/ Past Neglect/ Domestic Fluff

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ao3

1--2--3--4--Candles.

The fires lit up one by one, bursting from that chocolate cake and licking Ekko’s face with their glow. Wide eyed, he looked between the cake and Benzo, shaking in his chair with excitement , “Is it all for me--?” he asked, beaming up at the man.

Benzo placed a heavy hand the young boy’s shoulder, fond, “Of course, kid,” he said, letting out a rumbling laugh, “Now go on and make a wish--”

Ekko shut his eyes tight, taking in a deep breath.

Jinx exhaled.

That early morning, winter air—pierced like a knife. Her lungs burned as her sneakers slapped against the cracked and uneven pavement. Heart beating faster and faster.

She hit the corner, skidding to a halt, cheeks flushed. Against her neck, her headphones bumped rhythmically—the beat of drums, a mind-numbing rattling that filled the silence. Dropping her bag, she rummaged through the mess. Random sheets of stickers, scraps of colorful wrapping paper, broken drumsticks, packs of empty gum—shit her meds—before she found the canister.

Violet eyes danced across her canvas—hearing that little ball rattle as she shook the spray paint hard.

‘WELCOME TO THE HISTORIC CITY OF YAWN’

Chunky letters were blasted across the front doors of the High School. The colors were a nasty combination of vibrant blues and purples, biting into the muddy brown of those dingy doors.

A few students clustered in front of the doors, whispering and taking pictures of the graffiti. Every-so-often the teacher on Morning-Duty would poke their head out the doors to shoo them off to class, but they always came back after she left.

Ekko brushed past the group, nose down as he doodled in his notebook-- jelly falling on the lined pages as swallowed the last of his donut. He maneuvered his way through the crowded halls, dodging elbows and side-stepping the occasional group of meandering, six-foot tall jocks.

He heard the late-bell ring and he glanced up--then at his schedule.

He walked to his homeroom from last semester.

His class was on the other side of the school.

“Shit-” Ekko mumbled, turning on his heel and rushing to his homeroom. By the time he stepped through the doors, tardy slip in hand, most of the other students had already found their seats.

“Mornin’ rabbit,” Jinx drawled. She was propped up on top of her desk. Her uniform was strategically ripped below the knees, skirt rolled up at the waist, and sleeves decorated with safety pins. Her long braids sprouted wild from underneath her beanie, hanging over her eyes. She was next to the only empty seat left, “You’re late-- again.”

Looks like they were stuck together-- again.

Ekko closed his eyes, internally groaning. He resigned himself to his fate. Dropping his bag down, he slumped into the seat. Forehead to desk, eyes shut tight.

Jinx snickered to herself, paying him no mind as she loudly talked about her weekend with everyone else. She crowded into his space with little care. Braids tickling his arms, legs bumping into the side of the desk every-so-often making it shake, her fingers tapping absentmindedly on his desk to an unheard rhythm.

Sixteen years ago, somewhere in East Zaun Hospital, two babies were born seconds apart. And like most kids in Zaun--they grew up together, but they were closer than most.

They had the same birthday and lived in the same apartment building. Their last names listed one after the other on every roll-call, being deskmates every year without fail.

Both had parents who worked in the mine before it shut down. Both had parents. Both entered foster-care around the same time, except Ekko never left Zaun.

One day Powder was there--the next day she wasn’t.

Packed up and gone on some random Tuesday.

He hadn’t even known she’d left until he saw that her name-tag was taken off of the cubby next to his. He didn’t know the exact reasons why at the time, but he wasn’t stupid.

He remembers the flashing lights--blue, red, blue, red-- outside his windows before Benzo guided him back to bed. How Benzo hugged him, a little too tight, before saying goodnight.

It was a small town and he was a nosy kid. He heard the rumors-- Enforcers were killed. He remembers seeing the barriers and check-points on his way to school--more each day. The dark uniforms posted up on the corners, most of them outsourced from Piltover, the hungry pigs sniffing for blood.

Sleepy, small town Zaun wasn’t known for much. Its profitability burned up quickly, leaving its residents in the dust. But the year Powder disappeared was the year Zaun became known for something else entirely.

Zaun.

The Birthplace of Shimmer.

It was originally an old recipe miners used in place of expensive, traditional medicine to fight the aches, the pains, and all things rotten. But the recipe changed. Many hands passing over it until it became so potent even the rich and able-bodied wanted a piece.

Silco’s Shimmer operation outgrew the town quickly.

He wasn’t wealthy. He was wealth personified.

Most people in Zaun could make the original recipe themselves with a little elbow grease, spare change, and a healthy disregard for the legal system. So Silco’s operation expanded--other cities, overseas, until the man was shaking hands with wallets fatter than the oceans were wide.

Zaun had a love-hate relationship with the man.

Mostly hate.

Silco’s teeth were as bloody as any Enforcer, but he never shied away from his roots. He maintained his properties in Zaun, paid his taxes, and casted his ballots. His hands dipping into the pockets of the indifferent city council members. That blood money kept the town afloat in more ways than one. He didn’t make the town that much better, but it didn’t get worse.

So when the ax finally fell, no one knew what to expect.

Ekko definitely didn’t expect her.

Heavy boots, a too big uniform, and a shiny new name.Those big violet eyes, seething from behind her bangs. A snarl on her lips as she sat down in the seat next to his own, kicking up her feet--like nothing ever changed.

And yet--everything was different.

You could always hear her coming.

From her loud-ass voice, to her even louder boots, but mostly you could hear the whispers that followed.

“Did you hear how she-”

“Last week she-”

“Why is she-”

“Damn, it's -”

Jinx stopped in front of him. Her braids swayed as she constantly shifted her weight from either leg. She was always in motion, a pendulum swinging and swinging until you had no choice but to follow.

Ekko sighed, “What?” he asked, eyes fixed on his presentation notes. It was bad enough he had to deal with her in every class, why was she still here after-school. An unnatural silence followed the question, pulling his attention away. He twirled the pen in his hand as he studied her face, how her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mouth pinched, “You good?”

Jinx’s nose twitched, snapping out of it, “Never better--” then she tacked on, quick, “This is the Robotics Team interest meeting, right..?”

“...Yes,” Ekko said slowly, then he realized.

Did she actually want to…join?

Then again, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Jinx was always good with her hands. They were always making shit when they were younger. Cobbling together dolls made of wire-hanger and old dresses, breaking apart and putting together anything they could get their hands on.

Imagination was a necessity to combat boredom. Most toys were far too expensive and most days were spent at home waiting for the adults to get back from work. The habit stuck with Ekko as he got older. It must have stuck with her too.

Ekko’s eyes dropped back to his notes, “I’ll start the meeting in a few minutes, pull up a chair--” he said, pen pointing idly off to the side.

“Cool,” Jinx said, smiling a bit as she passed.

- She was so… -

“1-2-1-2-3-4-” Ekko barked out, drumsticks moving with ease.

Steady wood shaped into the palm of his hands like a second skin. The steady snap of drums washing over his senses, mind focused entirely on the task at hand.

His eyes moved across the sheet music, but he didn’t need it. The repetitions were natural at this point, as easy as breathing. It was more so for the rest of the drumline's benefit. Apparently it was easier for them to make corrections if he knew the exact place in the notation.

He listened carefully, eyes drifting down that long line of snares. So far no fuck ups--

Ekko’s eyebrow twitched.

And for a second, he thought he misheard. It was so subtle anyone could have overlooked it, but--

It happened again.

He frowned, holding up a hand to cut them off.

Tucking his drumsticks away, he walked down that line studying the nervous faces carefully, before he sighed, “Everyone split into groups of two and review the piece--starting at measure 53, ” he said, noting the visible relief on their faces, “We’ll go over it again at the end of the hour.”

The group dispersed, a hush of whispers as everyone started to break down their setups and begin moving into the practice rooms.

Ekko looked up briefly, muttering to himself, before he called out, “Jinx, you’re with me.”

Jinx’s eyes crinkled as she sent him a cheeky, two finger salute.

Once everyone had filed out and her drum-sticks were readied, Ekko nodded at her, counting off again.

Jinx played like how she talked, how she walked, how she lived.

Loud--and with a careless, hyper-competency that would piss off anyone.

She didn’t bother glancing down at the notation, she wasn’t looking at anything at all. Her eyes closed, a blissful, yet mean look on her face as she rode the beat. Hands a blur, the drumsticks melting into her skin, the drums, and the beat. An untethered motion that never hesitated, not even for a second.

Ekko couldn’t help but lose himself in it all.

The motion, the rhythms, her-

There it was again.

“--Jinx? Jinx? Stop--” Ekko cut her off.

Jinx’s hands jerked to a stop, drumsticks going limp in her hands,“What-?” she bit out, annoyed.

“You’re playing it wrong,” Ekko said, paying the attitude no mind,

Jinx squinted at him, chin raising, defiant, “I’m playing it better.”

Ekko’s eyes narrowed, “You’re doing it on purpose?”

“Well-duh, “ Jinx scoffed, twirling a drumstick in her hand, “I don’t make mistakes.”

Which, infuriatingly enough--she wasn’t wrong.

“Play it how it's written,” Ekko said, pinching his nose, “It’s an ensemble, not a solo.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, blowing her bangs out of her face, “Does having a stick up your ass make you play better?” she said, pleasantly.

“Better than you, yes.”

“Is that a bet?” Jinx asked, readying her drumsticks.

“It’s a promise,” Ekko said, raising his own lips twitching at the challenge.

- Annoying. -

Jinx didn’t expect much from this shithole.

That old man was far too fucking sentimental thinking coming back to Zaun would do her any good. It had already killed the few good bits she had left.

So she definitely didn’t expect him.

He wasn’t with Benzo anymore, but the unlucky bastard was placed in one of the few group homes in the area.

Ekko was still alive and kicking-- unchanged-- like a ghost.

Old ass, raggedy ass-- pig-bitch.

“Heh,” Jinx chuckled under her breath, mouth sneering as she glared up at the teacher standing over her. She was a shiny, new lady shipped fresh from Piltover. She introduced herself by detailing her lengthy career working at Stillwater Prison while dropping stacks of papers on each desk.

At first, Jinx thought it was a bit--it was not.

Ms. Piggy’s eyes narrowed cooly at the teenager, manicured nails tapping against the desk, “There’s nothing to laugh about, go ahead and read the passage or else you can take another trip to the office.”

Jinx inhaled--then exhaled, eyes darting to the other students around her, nails biting into her wrist, “I’m not reading out loud,” she gritted out, narrowing her eyes right back.

“And why not?” Ms. Piggy loftily asked.

“I…” Jinx looked down, then around, huffing, “I don’t want to s--” she bit out.

“Well, we don’t always get what we want--”

“Is that why your face looks like a--” Jinx stopped, feeling a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, Ma’am-” Ekko interrupted, with a strained, but polite smile, “I can read the next passage. Maybe she just needs a sec-”

“I’m not talking to you, boy, ” Ms. Piggy snapped out, “Interrupt again and I’ll send you to the office too.”

Ekko’s smile faltered, eyes chilly, narrowing.

And yet, he closed his mouth, resigned.

A deathly silence followed, students watching, waiting, and-

That ever-dwindling fuse burned to its end.

Jinx abruptly stood, hands slamming on the desk and sending the papers flying. Ms. Piggy stepped back, startled. Jinx was close behind, “Yeah--Cunt-For-Brains,” she spat, jabbing a finger in her face, “You’re talking to me-- I told you I’m not fuckin’ doing it,”

“This behavior will not be--”

“Me-mem-eme-memem,” Jinx mocked, rolling her eyes.

“The office, Miss Pickett,” Ms. Piggy said, tersely. Face red, she somehow collected herself enough to get a word in, “Go or should I call your parents and--”

“Blah-blah-blah--” Jinx mimed with her hands. She strolled past her, waving a crooked finger behind, “Go ahead and call them, bitch--”

The classroom door slammed behind her as she left. She stopped at the office, pushing through the doors and flinging herself into one of the uncomfortable-ass chairs.

The secretary barely glanced up from her computer before reaching for the phone, resigned. She didn’t even bother to hand out the incident report paper-work,

A nap and some bells--later finally came.

Ms. Piggy stepped through the office doors, looking smug.

Sevika ducked into the office after her, weary. Before she followed the teacher into one of the conference rooms, she stopped in front of Jinx, raising an eyebrow, “What happened?”

“She’s a bitch.”

“...Anything else?”

Jinx looked off to the side, frowning, “...Public speaking and reading.”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed, “Did she provide an alternative assignment?”

“No.”

Sevika didn’t need to hear anything else. She disappeared into the conference room.

Jinx picked at the threads in her coat, humming as she waited. A door opened, a familiar set of boots--worn and paint splattered -- stopped in front of her. She looked up, a little confused, “...Don’t you have a bus to catch, rabbit?”

“I--” Ekko adjusted the straps of his bookbag, “Are you…good? That lady is a--- lot sometimes.”

Curious and curiouser.

“You're worried about me,” Jinx observed with an odd look, “She was ruder to you, honestly. Should’ve chewed her ass out.”

“That…” Ekko frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets, visibly uncomfortable, “Isn’t that overreacting? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“People only react to overactions,” Jinx said with a shrug, “Otherwise they let any-shit fly.”

“I…can’t really afford to overreact right now,” Ekko admitted, eyebrows furrowing.

Jinx paused, considering his words for a moment, then, “I can do it then.”

“What?”

“If you can’t, I can,” Jinx repeated, like that made any fucking sense, “Call me up and I’ll do it. I don’t give a fuck--I can bite, cuss, fight--”

“No,” Ekko said, shaking his head, fighting back a laugh, “Absolutely not.”

Jinx frowned, crossing her arms as she slumped back, “You’re no fun.”

Ekko sighed, a little helpless, “You’re so--”

The door to the conference room opened.

Ms. Piggy rushed out, face looking snotty and wet.

The two teens craned their necks, eyes wide, mouths gaping a bit.

“Damn--” Ekko muttered.

“Is she crying--?” Jinx asked, a little giddy. She looked up as Sevika stepped out the room, “Did you make her cry? Wha’did you do?”

Sevika looked down, expression unmoved as Jinx peppered her with questions, “We talked” she vaguely said, rolling her shoulder out as she walked past, “You’re still getting detention for profanity, but the alternative assignment is due by Monday,” she added on as an afterthought.

Jinxed waved her off, “Boo--tell me. C’mon lefty, don’t hold out on me--” she hopped on her feet, snatching her bag up as she followed them, “Can I drive us home today?”

“Hell-fuckin’ no,” Sevika said, turning her head. Her eyes landed on Ekko standing awkwardly behind them, “Do you need a ride, kid?”

“Uh-” Ekko glanced down at his beat-up watch before scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe.”

Jinx beamed, doubling back to snatch his arm and drag him along before he could second guess himself, chatting as she went, “Hey, Granny--can we get ice cream? We should get ice-cream. I didn’t even bite the bitch-”

- And yet, he now was so… -

“Two cones with two scoops of mint-chocolate chip and--”

Isha thumped on the glass excitedly, face pressed against it, eyes wide.

Jinx nodded in agreement, “-- a scoop of blue-raspberry sorbet on top--with rainbow sprinkles, please,” she finished all in one, long breath.

Ekko stared at them, disgusted, as he spooned up his own ice cream--plain chocolate.

Sevika didn’t bat an eye, pulling Isha away from the glass, “Add a pint of mango sorbet,” she said curtly to the employee.

The employee nodded, busying themselves with putting together the rest of the order. Once done, they handed the cones over to the girls and slid the bag with the pint across the counter.

“You don’t even like sorbet, though?” Jinx said, shoving ice cream down in her face.

“Mind your business, “ Sevika said, pulling out a wad of cash from her wallet. She thumbed through the stack before sliding a chunk of it across the counter. Then she handed a five to Isha and a twenty to Jinx.

“Business minded, “ Jinx chirped, tucking the cash away in her boot. She continued noisly licking at her ice cream, turning to Ekko, "You want some?” she asked.

“Ugh-no,” Ekko said, pulling a face.

“C’mon try it--try it” Jinx goaded, waving the cone around like a knife, ice cream dripping with each swing.

Ekko pointedly dodged her attempts to end his life--getting chased around the store with increasing fevour. Every left--every right--she wasn’t far behind. Jinx didn’t let up-- Isha on her heel, hyping her up as she cornered him in the chip aisle.

Ekko feigned right, before breaking free, skidding out the door towards the truck, heavy boots and cackling not far behind him.

- Boring. -

“Are we there yet?” Jinx asked for the fifty-billonth time. She sat in her seat, cross-legged-- mime punching into Ekko’s open palms.

The entire robotics team was crammed into the back of the van, rattingly about like spare change as it climbed those hilly, pot-hole peppered roads.

“Shut the fuck up before I crash the van,” Sherry gritted out, hands gripping the wheel tight. She was lovingly referred to as Mr. Clean, for obvious reasons. A scrawny little thing, her face pierced to hell-and-back with rainbow jewelry and always sporting that ratty Sumprats jersey.

Mili, her girlfriend, was curled up in the front seat. She giggled as she smoked out the window, dyed and fried sisterlocs flying wild in the air.

Jinx patted Ekko’s palms repeatedly, like tapping a drum. She tilted her head, “On purpose or on accident?”

“Keep yapping and you’ll find out--”

The rest of the group groaned as Sherry turned a sharp corner, bracing themselves as she finally went off road.

Terrell--Bug face, hit the front seats, glasses falling to the ground.

Beebee and Junebug--creepy-ass cousins, surprisingly not twins--gripped their seatbelts tightly. One muttering in Klingon while the other recited a Catholic prayer.

Jinx yelped as she slid out her seat. Ekko caught her around the shoulders, pulling her back up and holding her steady. Before she could protest, he reached around her, clicking her seatbelt back on.

“Aw, you do love me-” Jinx teased, fingers now using his shoulders as her new drum pads.

Ekko rolled his eyes, looking out the window without another word.

By the time the van skidded to a halt, the sun was long gone. They all tumbled out into the cold, pulling their coats around them a little tighter as they huddled together, trekking up that winding path of trees and wire fences--and more wire fences.

Mili began passing out beers--skipping over Jinx. Ekko declined. Seeing this, Jinx pulled out two of her own bottles from her bag, handing one to him.

“What's this?” Ekko said, squinting at the label.

“It's non-alcoholic,” Jinx promised, a strange glint in her eye as she cracked open her bottle and sipped it evenly. Seeing him hesitate, she added, “I can’t drink on my meds.”

Ekko scrutinized the bottle for a moment, mumbling, “Fuck it-” before he cracked it open, taking a sip and--he spat into the snow, groaning, “What the fuck Jinx?”

Jinx cackled, that devil liquid splashing everywhere as she clutched her stomach.

Wiping his mouth, Ekko slowly approached her, “I’m going to dump snow on you“ he explained, words short, methodical even, “And then I will laugh. And do it again.”

Jinx paid him no mind at first, hiccuping at this point--before the threat finally registered.

“Shit-” Jinx yelped, stumbling to the ground and dodging the obscenely large clump of snow thrown her way. It wasn’t even a snow-ball, it was more like he had scooped up as much as he could and flung it in her direction, “Shit-shit-shit-shit--Ekko it's cold--” she whined, gloved hands digging into the snow and half-heartedly flinging it as she sprinted away--his footsteps close behind.

Up the hill and through the crumbling fences, they chased each other up that snowy path, squeals and laughter echoing in the forest as the rest of the group joined the chase.

Jinx inhaled that crisp winter air--lungs on fire, braids fluttering behind her, before she stumbled to a halt.

There--where the sky met the plunging earth. Where the glass bottles shake and that old chain-fence rattled. There-- the stars, the lights, and the grime--those unlikely worlds came together.

Ekko exhaled, clutching his knees, relieved to finally get a chance to catch his breath.

“What...” Jinx’s eyes darted around the area, frantic, “Wait what happened? Where’s the tree?” she asked, thin voice easily caught in the wind.

“Oh….” Ekko’s brow furrowed, a little gutted at the remainder. He’d forgotten there used to be a tree here, “Some rich-fuck from Piltover tore it down awhile back,” he explained, “We can still make wishes here though…”

“I…wanted to climb it with you again,” Jinx admitted, hugging herself tight.

Again-- Chubby cheeks, bandaged knees, and sun-kissed faces. Scrambling up the sprawling branches of that old tree, hiding in the leaves from Mylo after they swiped his shoes. They knew the older boy would never find them because he was afraid of heights and they weren’t.

They weren’t afraid of much back then.

Some things do change.

Jinx looked lost. Growing quiet all at once, a pensive look on her face.

Ekko shifted nervously, looking between her face and the fence. He reached out, grasping her arm, tugging her gently to follow, “C’mon--”

“What?” Jinx stumbled behind, a little annoyed.

Ekko led her to the fence, letting go. His fingers hooked onto the fence, shaking it experimentally, “We can still climb the fence.”

“Why would we climb a stupid-fuckin’ fence?”

Ekko glanced back, giving the fence another shake, “If your too chicken-shit to do it, just say so--”

Jinx threw herself up the fence, flipping him off as she climbed. Boots slipping, wire shaking as he followed close behind.

Sneering faces, gangly legs, and frost-kissed faces. They reached the top in no time, breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breath.

Jinx hefted herself up and over--swinging her legs around to the otherside, balancing herself at the top of the world.

Ekko hooked his arms around the top of the fence, feet lodged into the mesh to keep balance. Mulling it over, he raised the bottle to his mouth, hesitating, before he took another sip. He gagged, trying it again, “This shit sucks ass--” he muttered.

Jinx emptied the last drops of hers on her tongue, letting out a burp--white air puffing from her lips.

“Gross.”

Jinx burped again for good measure, fanning it his way. The bottle hung loosely from her fingertips, fence swaying as she kicked her feet, “You know what really sucks ass--”

“Life?” Ekko guessed.

“--Life,” Jinx echoed, nodding her head sagely.

“When’s… Vi leaving?”

“Soon,” Jinx said, yawning as she rubbed her eyes, “She’s apartment hunting all the time--texting me details and shit, asking for my opinions. Y’know, because she hates me and wants to rub it in my face. ”

“...She doesn’t hate you,” Ekko said, automatically, sipping his bottle. All too familiar with this song and dance.

“....I know,” Jinx huffed, glaring at the sky.

“Y’know what doesn’t suck ass?” Ekko wondered out loud.

Jinx sent him a look.

“Really? Nothing?”

Jinx raised her eyebrow.

“...The competition? Remember? The whole reason we came up here-? Make a wish? Kick ass?”

“Ohh, right, right, “ Jinx nodded, “The nerd shit.”

“Our nerd shit,” Ekko corrected, raising his bottle.

Jinx snickered, clicking the bottles together, “Our nerd shit.” she agreed. Her swinging feet slowed, head lolling from side-to-side instead as she set her sights on that horizon. Eyes sweeping from the distant Zaun lights, from the stars, to somewhere else entirely. Forever in motion, her brain rattled so much it made her teeth shake and body ache from the pressure.

“Hey, Ekko?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know what I wish for?” Jinx asked, fighting back her giggles.

“Do I… wanna know?”

Jinx raised her free arm, finger gun pointing far past those rolling hills, to the unseen, gleaming, Piltover city-lights. Distantly she heard the rest of the group finally make their way up the path, the short, even breaths of the teenager next to her, and her own beating heart, beating faster and faster.

Eyes squinting--narrowing in on her target, then her hand jerked back as she mimed an explosion with her mouth. Cold air poured from her lips as she threw back her head and let out a wicked laugh.

“It's not funny,” Mel grumbled, holding the garish, red-black uniform up to her body as she squinted into the mirror. Her laptop was propped up on her vanity, her brother wheezing on the video call. The screen froze every-so often on his big-mouth.

“It's so…ugly,” Mel complained, with a thinly veiled sneer, “She clearly hates me.”

“She doesn’t--” Kino hit the table repeatedly, gasping for breath, “She doesn’t hate you--” he coughed out, shoulders shaking, words of comfort utterly unconvincing.

“It has a tie-- Kino--an ugly tie,” Mel drawled, throwing the blazer on her bed before picking up the skirt and holding it up to her waist with a scrutinizing look, “A tie so ugly and so big it makes me look like a Christmas tree set ablaze.”

“Okay, my ugly little shrub--” Kino says fondly, wiping his eyes, “Did you finish your stone yet?”

Mel stepped into the skirt, tugging it over her pajama pants, frowning a bit, “I need to get these tailored,” she mutters to herself, rolling up the waist a bit, turning in the mirror to get a better look at her a--

“The rock Mel. Melly? Melly belly? The stone--The stone--?

“Right--” Mel blinked out of her thoughts. She reached towards the vanity, picking up a palm-sized stone. It was white, smooth, and decorated with vibrant, overlapping flames, like fluttering sails. She presented it to the camera with a flourish.

Kino beamed, showing off his stone as well. The little blue hearts, painstaking etched into its curves, a dotting spiral that curled around two, small cursive initials that read--‘K+V’-- “What are you going to wish for?”

“What I always do,” Mel scoffed as she tucked her rock inside a vase of roses.

“--Sevika,” Mel whined, hugging her pillow tight. A calloused hand wrapped around her ankle completely, holding her firmly for a moment before slowly pulling her from under the covers, “Go away--”

“Not until I see your face,” Sevika insisted. If Mel was willing to speak, it was clearly a good time to intervene. They adjusted their hold, hand now latching onto her calf. Their prosthetic hand pushed back the blankets, searching, “It's been a week.”

“It's only been a week. I’ve eaten--I’ve walked Shug so I’m fine--”, Mel yelped, body sliding across the mattress into open air. She looked up, dazed, as the bed creaked. Sevika crawled on top, arms bracketing either side of her head, legs pinning her body with their weight.

“Happy now?” Mel grumbled, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Ashy. Arms uselessly flung across the mattress, locs falling out of a half-assed bun, her bonnet lost in the covers. Her body was swimming in that shirt she never managed to give back to them.

It wasn’t something Sevika got to see often. Mel’s self proclaimed ‘moods’ were often neatly tucked away behind a locked door. It was usually Mel who gave them a heads up--rescheduling, apologizing, the works-- but this time was different.

That morning, Sevika woke up to a text from Lest. She asked them to check on Mel.

Sevika baited Mel with sorbet to get the bedroom door open-- it worked.

Sevika got her fill, eyes raking across Mel’s face--then body. She leaned in close, nosing at the delicate arch of her collar bone.

Then she sniffed.

“You stink,” Sevika said.

“Fuck you--” Mel groaned into her hands, mortified, as she kicked her away.

Sevika had reared back, catching both legs easily, “Not until New years,” she reminded with a crooked smile.

That got a giggle out of Mel--flustered at the thought. She lost focus enough that Sevika could close the distance again, scooping her up and tossing her over her shoulder.

Mel squirmed in her hold, quickly giving up once she realized they wouldn’t budge, “You’re a brute and a bully--” she said, hotly. She glared at the woman’s back, locs swinging as she was carried off upside down. At their feet, Shug popped up from her dog-bed, scampering to follow them. Cute, but no help seeing as she was being actively kidnapped

Sevika patted her ass, unphased, “You’re into it.”

Mel neither confirmed nor denied this.

Suds frothing, a bubbling, scalding heat.

Mel scrubbed her body raw, Sevika's dark eyes watching her every-so-often as they rummaged through her bathroom cabinets and picked out various different bottles and creams.

“Se--”

Mel gasped into the pillows, clawing at the linens.

A strong hand kneaded her body. The curve of her shoulders, the dip of her spine, the swell of her hips and between the meat of her thighs--methodically rubbing sweet oils and butters into her skin.

That hand--it worked. It worked into her hard, coaxing those tense muscles and unraveling her with a punishing persistence. That gruff voice--sweet in her ear--coaxing her through it all.

“-vi-”

“-ka,” Mel sighed, watching as they finished folding her laundry, setting the basket down beside the bed. She sucked the mango sorbet off her spoon, “You can go home if you need to--I’m fine…”

A thumb smoothed over her forehead, before a hand cupped her face. Sevika leaned down and kissed her on the nose lightly, “Are you kicking me out?” she asked, thumb stroking her cheek.

“...No,” Mel said, melting into the touch.

“Then I’m staying,” Sevika said, kissing between her wrinkled brows.

“You don’t need to…”

Sevika pressed their foreheads together, noses brushing, breaths intertwined.

“I know you’re tired…”

Sevika didn’t say anything, dark eyes unbearably tender, hands cradling her face like she was something precious--

“I-I know you need to…” Mel choked up, squeezing her eyes tight, “You can--”

Sevika caught her as she fell forward and let out a muffled sob into their shoulder.

The hushed whispers in the living-room died down as the front door opened, boots heavy.

The teenagers scrambled, tucking away their papers and hiding their bottles right as Sevika stepped through the door. Looking very casual, normal even. Mili was already knocked out, curled up under the coffee table. Sherry scrolled away at her phone--which had died an hour ago. Bug-eye, looked significantly less bug-eyed. And--well the not-twins were a lost cause, but they had the decency to at least turn on the T.V.

Jinx didn’t bother to move, hanging upside down on the couch, braids tumbling over Ekko’s shoulders, “You’re back early,” she says, gum popping loudly, “Did she kick you out again?”

“Mind your business,” Sevika said, shrugging off her coat, casting a skeptical glance over the room.

Before Jinx could request her shut-up fee, a honey-coated pitbull darted past Sevika towards the couch.

Jinx pepped up, falling to the ground, “Puppy-!” she excitedly beckoned the dog closer.

Ekko groaned, bony elbows digging into him. He tried to shove her off, “Dude, what the fu--” his expression softened, words lost all at once.

Flushed cheeks, upturned violet eyes, raspy voice cooing as she fussed over the pitbull.

The…dog was kinda-cute.

Shug--ever the diva-- drank up the attention eagerly as the other teenagers crowded around. The teens were so distracted, they didn’t notice the woman tucked at Sevika’s side, her footsteps quiet as they disappeared down the hall.

Majesty purred, paws kneading into the quilt as she settled into the bed, her little face pushing into Mel’s side. Mel hummed, stroking their fur gently, pleased to have finally won her over.

Cozied up and dozing off, she woke up at the sound of footsteps.

Sevika stepped back into the bedroom,“Isha had a nightmare,” she said, looking weary. The door clicked behind her, “She’s sleeping now--this always happens when she watches The Grinch,” she reassured, seeing her concern.

“She’s afraid of The Grinch?”

Sevika yanked off her shirt then bra, reaching for her belt, “No, the Whos,” she explained with a grave seriousness, “She says they look like hairless rats.”

“That’s…” Mel frowned a bit, brow scrunching, “She’s not wrong.”

“She’s not,” Sevika agreed--dropping her pants around her ankles and stepping out of them. She bent down, collecting the clothes and tossing them in the laundry bin

Mel briefly forgot herself, she always did when it came to them. She couldn’t help but indulge in the sight like it was the first time. Then she remembered what she had decided to ask, “...Sevika?” she called out, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

“Hm?”

Mel hesitated.

Sevika let her take her time. Straps unraveled--a heavy thump of her prosthetic arm being set aside. The bed creaked, a weight nestling into Mel’s other side, breath warm against the nape of her neck as an arm draped across her stomach, pulling her close.

“I need to run some errands out of town, ” Mel quietly admits, biting her lip, “I’ve been putting them off for awhile and Elora can’t go with me anymore. Is it possible if…”

“When?”

Mel exhaled, heart easing a bit, “Any day can work for me, it's mostly paperwork for my exhibition, but…There is a youth science competition in Piltover I’ve invested in--they’ve requested I attend. I made the arrangements and I was…working towards it with my therapist, but the event lasts several days so I don’t expect you to commit to that much.”

Sevika’s fingers drummed against her stomach, contemplative, before she asked, “Is it the Young Innovators Competition?”

“...You’ve heard of it?”

Past the rolling hills, where the sun touched gleaming sky-scrapers, the countryside was devoured by that bustling city--Piltover. That ratty, rental van squeezed between the endless stream of shiny cars--decidedly late.

If there was hell—this was it.

Sevika’s fingers itched for a blunt, instead she turned up the radio. She hoped that’d be enough to tune out whatever mess was going on in the back. She was volentold by the rest of the parents to drive the group here since she’d been dodging chaperone duty the whole year.

She’d thought there’d be more of an issue about Mel coming along, but a few calls and a background check and she was cleared. They were more than a little grateful for her presence--she always hated these trips. Dealing with other parent’s teenagers and their handsy Moms--ugh.

Before they reached the bridge, Sevika pulled over at a gas station. The teens and Isha filed out to do fuck-all.

Mel leaned across the aisle, kissing her cheek, “We’re almost there,” she reassured.

“That’s not much better,” Sevika said, eyes falling on those gleaming towers. At Mel’s confused look, she sighed, “A lot of miners from Zaun died on that bridge protesting. They blocked executives from leaving a conference and…” she sucked in her teeth, words failing for a moment, “I knew some of them--all of them, actually.”

Sevika wasn’t in Zaun at the time. She was long gone, a nose full of copper and tasting asphalt on the daily dealing with turf disputes. She never planned on returning---until she heard the news.

A bitter rain--the smell of smoke. Those little fires burned for weeks, lighting up each night. A quiet house that was too big for her to keep and an even quieter funeral. Some didn’t get headstones--others didn’t even get graves. Bodies far too gone to even recognize.

And when they finally wrapped up their affairs she hoped to never have to return again.

“It's funny…” Sevika says, fingers drumming against the wheel, eyes lost, “My old man was chasing the bottle his whole life, but it was the butt of a ugly-lookin’ gun that got him in the end.”

He was always a cynic, yet he was there. That protest—the one, unselfish thing he did-- was what finally shut him up for good.

It’s so fucking stupid.

Mel reached across the aisle, finding their hand and squeezing her tight, those bright eyes searching, soothing.

Sevika always wondered what she saw.

Approaching the bridge, the van was quiet.

Those big eyes lost-- seething as they all came to the same realization.

The murals, the candles, the flowers, the bottles, the bears--everything, gone.

The memorial--only a sliver of land nestled between the road and the start of the bridge--got cleared out. It was wiped pristine, white, and shiny.

Now a billboard stood in its place.

Some things do change.

‘WELCOME TO PILTOVER’ - ‘THE CITY OF PROGRESS’

“I’m not wearing that—” Sevika said, scowling at that little strip of shiny fabric hanging with her blazer, circling it like it was a snake.

Mel leaned into the mirror, eyeing them as she put in her other gold earring, “It's Black-Tie attire,“ she said, emphasising each word like that means shit, “They won’t let you in if you don’t fit the dress code. You’re wearing the tie.”

Sevika snorted, “Like hell I am—“

Mel’s eyes narrowed, turning around slowly, lips sharply drawn together. In a few quick strides, pony-tail swinging with each step, she planted herself in front of them,“You're wearing the tie.”

Sevika took a step forward, eyes narrowing right back.

Mel raised her chin, not budging an inch.

Sevika nostrils flared, but mirth was plain on her lips as she looked them over.

An open, sheer robe that fell a little past her thighs. Dark lingerie, dark brown nipples peeking through the lace, dark tights doing little to cover her shapely legs. Eyebrows furrowed, face done up, glowing. Fluttering lashes, makeup meticulously blended. Lips pursed, stained, and shiny with gloss.

“You gon’ make me?” Sevika said, but her look was asking something else entirely.

Mel raised an eyebrow. Stepping out of her irritation, she assessed the situation as well.

Broad shoulders, well tailored pants, and equally lovely thighs to match. The faint shadow of their nipple piercings under her tank top. That glimmer in their eye as they took another step forward-- stepping between her legs.

“Well?”

Mel smiled, squinting as she leaned in close— a breadth away from Sevika’s lips.

Sevika’s eyes darted down, hoping to catch that shine with her teeth, but--- a firm hand pushed a silk tie into her stomach, catching her off guard

“Wear the tie,” Mel said, voice low, soft— that deceptive sweetness lingering as her hand slid down Sevika’s abdomen, nails trailing behind, “We can use it later.” she promised

Not elaborating further, Mel turned on her heel, returning to the vanity in the blink of an eye.

Sevika put on the tie.

If Sevika had anything to say about it--later won’t be too long from now.

Mel was pressed against the vanity, a strong body pinning her in place with little effort. She squirmed, robe slipping as Sevika mouthed at her neck, hungry.

“Se-” Mel half-heartedly protested. She lost herself in the sensation--embarrassment fluttering in her chest every time she looked up, catching sight of herself in that mirror already looking utterly wrecked.

A rough hand slipped under her bra--

“-vika-- we have to finish--”

--easily covering her breast and squeezing, teasing her relentlessly.

“You want me to stop?” Sevika murmured into her skin, kisses peppering down her throat.

“...No,” Mel admitted with a whine, hips pressing back a little desperate.

Sevika chuckled, the sound going straight between Mel's thighs as she--

Mel’s phone rang.

A French lullaby--not one Sevika recognized.

Mel patted Sevika’s hand. They stepped away, letting her reach for it.

“It's Jinx, “ Mel explained, pressing the phone to her ear, stepping away as she listened to the other end. Once she was done quietly talking on the phone, she sat it down with a sigh, “She needs help with her makeup. I told her I’ll be there in a few.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, “Does she call you often?”

“Only from time to time,” Mel said, picking up and stepping into Sevika’s discarded sweatpants. She pulled the strings taunt around her waist, tying them in a bow, before searching for a shirt, “Usually she’s checking on you. Apparently calling you is like talking through a toilet--” she snatched Sevika’s sweatshirt from the bed, pulling it over her head, careful to avoid her face, “Do you need a new phone?”

“No,” Sevika said, already guessing where this was headed.

“You still need to tell me what you want for Christmas,” Mel complained, mulling over the mask before setting it aside, “You promised you’d think about it.”

Sevika sat back on the bed, reaching for the remote. She entertained the thought for a second, before quickly deciding, “I want what you want for New Years.”

Silence then--

“You…you already get to--”

“I know what I like.”

“...Shut up,” Mel mumbled, fighting back a grin as she grabbed the key card before ducking through the doors connecting the hotel rooms.

The Young Innovator’s Competition was bright--cheery, a gleaming spectacle of minds gushing over each other’s creations across generations. Kids of all ages gathering at each stall lining the banquet hall while others rushed to grab a seat before the awards were presented.

Mel leaned against the railing of her private balcony, observing the hall. A brief reprieve from the private meetings, paperwork, and one too many hands to shake.

Mel pulled up her mask, seeing a sight that left her terribly nostalgic.

Tucked away in some odd corner, Ekko grumbled to himself, doodling on a napkin--not noticing the click of heels getting closer.

“Are you hiding?” Mel asked, head tilting just so--as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Sevika wasn’t that far behind, a sleeping Isha thrown over her shoulder.

Ekko tensed, raising his eyes, annoyed, “No ma’am, I’m not.” he lied, tucking the napkin under his sleeve, pen twirling in hand.

Sevika’s partner was as glossy as the Piltover skyline. Even behind that mask, you couldn’t hide the shine, the refined speech, and the ease she moved with about the room. You could tell she was in her element--and that element sucked ass.

Gold halls, marbled floors, food spilling from every table—that no one fucking touched. So-called-investors either ignored him or talked at him-- like a fucking dog they could bribe into doing tricks.

It was pissing him off.

Mel raised an eyebrow, eyes subtly glancing at the napkin, “This is the only networking event before the awards, are you sure you want to waste the opportunity?”

“Not everyone wants to shuck and jive for cash—“ Ekko muttered, before shutting his mouth abruptly, looking a bit guilty.

Mel let out a quiet laugh, “I suppose not…” she said, folding her arms, pony-tail tossing to the side, “But, investors aren’t the only people here,” she pointed out, eyes straying past him.

Ekko followed her gaze.

Jinx.

She was eagerly chatting with a group of people around their age, shoveling food down her mouth without a care in the world. A little further, he could see the rest of his team--all talking with the other teams.

Thinking about it--Zaun was rather… small.

They didn’t get a chance to talk about their work outside of their club.

It looked—

“You should go have fun,” Mel gently suggested, “When things get hard you’ll need connections that’ll stick around…There’s nothing investors love more then a lone genius.”

It was that stupid test fault.

Mel crawled underneath her Mother’s desk, sniffling as she buried her face into her knees.

“Mel--?--Melly?” Her Mother called out, heavy footsteps passing by, echoing down the halls.

Mel balled up tighter, covering her ears.

She hates her--she hates her--she hates her--

She froze hearing footsteps, much lighter enter the room. She covered her mouth, eyes screwed tight--waiting.

“Melly?” Kino crouched down, pushing back the office-chair.

Mel cracked open one misty eye, “How’d you find me--” she complained, glaring hard.

Kino got on the floor, crawling under the desk with her, cramming into the tight space with his big-ol knobby knees, “You always come here,” he said, arms folding around the previously mentioned, big-ol knobby knees.

“No I don’t,” Mel muttered, sniffling.

“Sure you don’t,” Kino easily agreed, not making any moves to leave.

“...Why does Mama hate me?” Mel eventually asked, voice small.

“Mel…” Kino’s eyes softened, “She doesn’t hate you she just--”

Mel scowled, “Then why is she sending me away?” she snapped, “You get to stay here for school. It’s not fair. ”

Kino sighed, raising a hand to rub her forehead, “I’m not half as smart as you--” he said, with a thoughtful look, “She thinks I'm better suited to the…family business. She wants something different for you.”

“...That's stupid.”

“Maybe it is,” Kino mumbled with a furrowed brow before pepping up again, “You wanna do something cool? It’ll make you feel better--promise. ”

And in the quieter parts of their evening—when they were filled with food, wine, and far more lighter memories--they retired to the hotel-room before the 'Man of Progress' made his speech for the night. Mel whispered into the dark and quiet. She traced those long, winding scars on Sevika’s side, careful not to press into the raised skin.

“It’s strange—”

“I spent my whole life running towards my mother—trapped in her shadow. Scraping up every look, every gesture, desperate to understand. To know--if she thought of me at all in those years she sent me away--”

“—I could never appease her--nothing I did was enough, yet she risked everything to save me. She cradled me like I was precious even as she--She waited until then--? Why then? When I was pleading for her my whole life--”

“She chose me--She believed in me--and in the end I didn’t even know what She was--what She wanted. I didn’t know--- that gentleness, adoration, and softness could burn the same way indifference did--“

“And the person I chose--who I loved more than anything--was nowhere to be found.”

Love.

“It’s so—stupid.”

And in that quiet night, Sevika’s lips moved without thinking.

She was always a bit…impulsive when it came to Mel. It was an urge that always cropped up--that stirring need to have those hands bury in her deep.

Those old feelings--those old memories were whispered into the comforting darkness for the first time.

Sevika remembers her mother—or maybe the woman was a fling of her old man. A persistent memory that lingered too strongly in her childhood.

Strong smoke—wiry hands stacked with gold bangles and shiny rings. She’d pass Sevika a dollar or piece of candy from her bag, tossling her hair as she passed.

Dark eyes glazed, blackened lips pressing apologies into her Dad’s mouth before he could get mad.

She’d come—she’d go—and go—and go, then one day she stopped coming back.

Sometime between sixteen and seventeen, Sevika sat on the front porch, watching that car pull away for the last time.

Once it was out of sight, she pulled out the lighter and cigarette she had flinched from the woman’s purse. She placed the cigarette in her mouth, eyebrows scrunching before she turned it around. She fumbled with the lighter for a minute, that flickering light waning in the cool winter air.

Open, Closed, Open--She raised the lighter to the end of the cigarette, inhaling, trying to swallow her cough.

After a few more tries, she got the hang of it.

Dark eyes fixed above, she counted out the satellites and dead stars. The wind blew hard and she held the front of her flannel shirt together, tight, bracing herself from the cold.

Comfortably numb, Sevika dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, rubbing it out with her sneakers as she made a wish.

Sevika took the suitcase from Mel, lifting it into the back of the van. She looked around, irritated, “Where the hell are they?” she complained.

They had checked out earlier that morning, but the kids still wanted to go to a few shops before they left--so they agreed to meet back in the afternoon for lunch.

They were late.

“Maybe their uber is running late?” Mel suggested, finger tapping her lips expectantly.

Sevika leaned down, kissing her softly, annoyance disappearing briefly before returning, “I doubt it, my arm itches,” she muttered under her breath, “I can sense Jinx’s bullshit from a mile away.”

“Or…perhaps you need to try those creams your doctor suggested,” Mel said, forever skeptical, “I can help you with the application if you want?”

“I don’t need--” Sevika paused, thinking it over, “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Mel said, hands grasping their scarf, heels lifting as she leaned in and--

Mel’s phone rang--a French lullaby.

Isha tapped the windows excitedly as the van pulled over on the side of the road.

Right as it parked, the teens rushed towards it, bags rattling as they threw them inside, doors shutting--van immediately peeling off.

Jinx leaned forward, hands drumming on the back of Mel’s seat, “So is this a grounding? You chewing me out? Running laps? Extra chores? Like what’s the situation?”

“There is no situation,” Sevika said, eyes trained forward, “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Righty-O-Cap’n,” Jinx said with a mock salute, “Ooh can we get ice-cream? I want ice cream--”

“Jinx. Seatbelt.”

Ekko sighed, leaning across and snapping her seatbelt on.

Jinx giggled in response.

Sevika turned up the radio. She looked at her side mirrors, those blooming flowers smearing across the billboard--paint dripping a jarring mix of colors that stained that pristine landscape. Around the billboard, wreaths of flowers, decorated bottles, and unlit candles reclaimed the space.

It was inevitable for it to be cleared out again.

In the same sense, it was inevitable for the memorial to return. Like a flame that’s been snuffed out again and again. It will never be the same, yet it will persist in spite of the odds.

Sevika’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, speaking low, “Where did she get the money for all those flowers?” she asked with a sidelong glance.

Mel hummed, eyes watching those rolling hills, “I’m not quite sure,” she said with a small smile, “She’s a clever girl. I’m sure she has her ways.”

‘WELCOME TO PILTOVER’

Blue spray-paint scratched out the city's name, scrawling out something new instead. - ‘THE CITY OF PROGRESS’

White spray paint did the same.

'WELCOME TO PISSLOVER'

'THE CITY OF BULLSHIT'

After the kids were all dropped off, Sevika and Mel climbed back into the van. They drove for a long time, past those rolling hills and gleaming lights. Where the countryside was tamed and glossy fences stood tall on the horizon.

Shuffling into the apartment, Jinx flinched, catching the keys tossed her way. Vi hopped up from the couch, handing an envelope to her as well.

“The fuck are these?” Jinx rasped, nudging a sleepy Isha towards her bedroom.

“I got a place,” Vi said, scratching her hair, “I’ve already moved my shit, but I’m not leaving until early January.”

“Oh.”

And while Jinx knew she was leaving--this felt different.

More…real.

“Try not to lose the key, management’s a dick. And you’ll need to pick out what you want for your bedroom, but--”

“Wait?” Jinx blinked, ripping open the envelope--a train pass, “My... bedroom?”

Vi tilted her head, “We’ve been looking for a two-bedroom apartment this whole time? Who’d you think it was for--actually don’t answer that,” she said, shaking her head, “But, anytime you need me--anytime you’re sick of that old-lady’s face, my doors will always be op--oof,” she groaned, nearly thrown off balanced.

Jinx sniffled, hiding her face in their shoulders as she squeezed her sister tight.

Shadows stretched —tombs standing tall in the early morning light. Scrawling cursive etched into the marbled surfaces, fresh flowers sprinkling the plots.

Mel stood in front of her Mothers grave. She let go of Sevika’s hand, stepping forward with a bouquet of white, slender petals that sprouted cobbs of gold. She set them down across the plot, watery eyes dancing across the little painted-red stones circling her grave.

“My Mother…” Mel closed her eyes, a bitter laugh caught by the wind, “She always hated the smell of peace-lilies,” she shared, not quite smiling. She wiped her face, returning to Sevika’s side and reaching for their hand.

Sticky fingers pressing into paint. Colors bloomed at her fingertips--that shimmering gold coating her cheeks and hands as she carved little lines into that stone.

“We’ll make our wishes and bury them now,"

Kino wiped her face and hands clean, whispering to her another story--one she’ll soon forget.

It was about a strange man.

He held her hands gently when she was far too young to remember his face. The clean scent of a hospital bed. The crinkling of newspapers as they colored in the margins, curled up in his lap. How they were picked up and taken away, their mother’s boots heavier with each step.

They didn’t go back to the hospital, instead she took them into the garden. She pressed colorful stones into both of their hands, holding them tight as she spun a different tale.

“--and by the time spring comes--”

Mel dropped her stone into the hole, covering it with soil.

“He’ll come home.”

Mel pressed her hands into the dirt, dress filthy, tears streaking her face as she whispered the same wish over and over--and over again.

“I wanna go home.”

#arcane #sevika #ekko #mel medarda #jinx #sevika arcane #ekko arcane #mel arcane #jinx arcane #melvika #sevika x mel #mel x sevika #timebomb #jinx x ekko #ekko x jinx #fanfiction #writing

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shinysparklesapphires · 1 month ago

Text

showtime precure!

Chapter 15: Vi’s quitting the Pretty Cure?! Please don’t go!

💌: @baileypie-writes @harufallinwonderland @xryptik

“Violet.”

Violet was packing up her clothes when Serena walked up to her with an annoyed look.

“Hm?” She looked at her confused.

“This is for you.” She slipped a white envelope into her hands. It didn’t have a return address on it, but all it had was a bright red wax stamp with a lily engraved into it.

“Go on, read it.” Serena fanned her hand at Violet, signaling her to open the envelope.

“Dear Ms. Violet Aureliane, per recommendation from both your teachers and peers, we would like to request for you to join Monsieur Bernard’s Dance School, located in Paris, France in your second year. We would like your response to be received as soon as possible”

Serena scoffed, “Obviously I wasn’t the one to recommend you but, to each his own I guess.”

“This is amazing!” Violet’s heart dropped for a moment, “But wait, doesn’t that mean I won’t be able to keep going here?”

“Obviously not. If anything it’s better that you go to a school that won’t hinder your abilities,” Serena walked out of the dance studio, “Ciao.”

Violet read over the letter again. And again. And again.

But I don’t wanna leave everyone…

Lacey was sitting in a corner hugging her knees and crying. Nicolette was combing out Nosferatu’s feathers. Everything in the bandshell felt gloomier now that Dominique was gone. It was so quiet. But neither of the girls felt like speaking.

“Girls.”

Tragedy appeared in the water pillar before them.

“Yes Master Tragedy.”

“Lacey.”

Lacey immediately snapped out of whatever haze she had on her.

“Yes ma’am?”

Tragedy threw a corrupted coin at her, “Go and grab the green one’s ribbon. If you put the coin into your bracelet it will amplify the Dark Ribbon’s power. If you succeed I might consider bringing back your little friend.”

For a moment, Lacey’s eyes lit up. Nicolette looked skeptical.

“But if you fail. You’ll meet the exact same fate as her.”

“Yes ma’am I understand.” Lacey bowed as the pillar collapsed once again.

“Lacey-”

“I have to do this Niki.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Who cares. You know I’m gonna defeat that weak ass little girl anyway, we get Dominique back, and Tragedy gets what she wants.” She pushed her bangs to the side.

“And if you fail? What will I do?” Lacey kissed her softly,

“I’ll make sure I don’t.”

“I’m quitting the Pretty Cure.”

“WHATTT?!”

Reel had spit out his coffee all over his desk, Amber had dropped her notebook, and Lucia and Lyna’s jaws had dropped to the floor.

“What you can’t quit?! What about the future of the planet?!” Reel jumped over his desk to get to Violet.

“I just…don’t have time to do any of it anymore..I want to focus more on school yknow?”

“Vi you can’t be serious…” Lucia looked at her heartbroken.

“I am. I’m leaving.” She walked out of the theater classroom, leaving everyone in shock.

Violet and Serena were taking a walk to their dorm building, Violet still looking over her letter.

“Violet.”

“Yes?” Violet looked up at her upperclassman.

“You have always been an annoyance for me, you constantly piss me off, and your dancing is..above average at best.”

“Jeez, are you trying to be nice or not?”

“Let me finish!” Serena sighed frustrated, “My father happens to be a co founder of the school, and he only allows those who he deems are ‘most suitable’ to enroll.”

“So what you’re saying is..”

“You should go to Monsieur Bernard’s.”

“But that would mean leaving everyone behind..”

“So what?” both the girls looked behind them to see Lacey standing with her arms crossed.

“Excuse me are you a student here?” Serena got in front of Violet.

“Oh shut up.” Lacey ripped Serena’s wish coin from her chest, causing her to collapse.

“Lacey!”

“C’mon Cure Action! Ain’t so high and mighty now?” She looked at Violet’s letter and tore it from her hands.

“Oh?”

“Hey give that back!”

“Fight me for it! C’mon, transform.”

Violet hesitated.

“If you won’t fight I will.” She raised her hand with Serena’s coin in it.

“FACADE! WREAK YOUR HAVOC!!!!!!!!!!!”

“SAWWW!” Violet looked in horror as her letter had been transformed into a monster.

“I’m not gonna fight you Lacey!” Violet ran as she tried to dodge the incoming attacks the best she could.

“Why not? You too scared all of a sudden?”

“I’m not I just-”

“Set Lasso Net!”

Violet watched as Set wrapped the Facade up in her web.

“Violet! What are you waiting for?!” Showtime yelled at her.

“I already told you I quit remember!”

“But why?!” Wright was trying to keep the monster down.

“I-” Lacey interrupted her, “Because she’s gonna move to a fancier new school where she doesn’t need any of you!”

“Violet is that true?!” Wright looked surprised.

“I-I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go anyway! I swear!”

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME GOING TO MONSIEUR BENARD’S INSTEAD OF VIOLET! IT’S NOT FAIR WHY DOES SHE GET TO GO AND I DON’T?! WHY COULDN’T FATHER HAVE CHOSEN ME FOR ONCE?!”

“Serena…” Violet looked at the monster in front of her squirming from its trap, and couldn’t help but feel pitiful for it.

“Violet why didn’t you tell us you were going to a dance school? We wouldn’t have been mad at all!” Showtime smiled at her.

The monster broke free from the net, and Set scrambled to try and hold it down further, “Yeah we’re super proud you get this opportunity!”

Wright strained to keep herself up, “Yeah and no matter how far away you may be, you’ll always be a Pretty Cure right?” she laughed.

“Guys….” Violet turned to Lacey, “I won’t let you have my ribbon ever! It’s what ties me to the people I love, it’s what makes me a Pretty Cure!”

“Precure, Rollback! Lights! Camera! Action!”

“Hup!” Action effortlessly kicked the monster to the ground.

“Wishing Well, grant my wish to stay with my friends forever!” She pulled out her ribbon wand and twirled it.

“Pretty Cure! Action Grande Jete…..Piroette!” The monster disappeared, and the coin fell into Action’s hands.

Lacey just stood there, with a blank expression.

“Uh Oh! Looks like someone failed her mission!” Catwalk appeared in front of her, but she just stayed silent. Lacey just looked at Catwalk and muttered something.

Forgive me Nicolette.

She grabbed Catwalk’s hand and shoved it into her chest, tearing out her wish coin, and becoming dust in the process.

“Hm. Well at least she was more cooperative than the other one…”

“Catwalk!” Showtime yelled after him but he just disappeared.

Nicolette stood in front of the water pillar.

“Nicolette~ The only servant I have that’s worth a shit.” Tragedy blew a puff of smoke from her side.

“I guess you can assume what happened to uh- Lexi? Luma?”

“Lacey, ma’am.”

“Oh yeah, her.” Tragedy sighed, “You’re the last option I have. Make sure you’re the best.”

“I will.” Nicolette bit her lip.

"So Vi did you decide on whether or not you're moving schools?" Lucia asked anxiously.

"Yeah, turns out they'll let me go during 4th year instead of 2nd, so I won't have to leave you all for a little while at least," she grinned.

"I'm glad to hear that atleast I'll still have to deal with you," Amber chuckled.

"Alright girls, time to start class," Reel walked up to the board.

"Yes sir!" everyone nodded.

#🎀! showtime precure

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victoria-daydreams · 2 months ago

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A Time for Us

AN: This story is pure self indulgence for me, but if you enjoy it that's wonderful as well! Like, I took the minorest side character who probably has five speaking lines and created a whole backstory involving him and my OC. This has been sitting in my drafts for so long and I need to clear them out.

Summary: Invitations to the Thannedd Ball were sent to all mages across The Continent, even to the likes of an outcast within the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.

Part I: Home Is Not Where the Heart Is

Nearly 50 years ago, Varrine made a promise to herself to never return. Tonight, she broke it. The first time she had walked these halls, she was but a mere novice coming in to her own powers. The last, she resigned from her position as a teacher.

"Stop your fidgeting!" Varrine scolded herself. "The moment you enter, all eyes will be upon you,"

Forcing her hands apart from their fiddling, she willed them to her sides and lifted her head. The light from the ballroom spilled into the dim vestibule where she concealed herself. Freely, music and banter danced on the breeze, floating right into her slightly pointed ears. Without having to look, Varrine knew that Yennefer of Vengerberg had seemingly invited every mage in the Northern Kingdoms. The thought made her toes curl.

"Breathe, breathe," Varrine chanted quietly, her fingers curling into fists.

Breathe, to calm the coiling anxiety clawing up from the pit of her stomach. The uneasy sensation sprouted to her ribs, then her lungs, and finally her throat. Breathe, to slow her fickle, half human heart. There's a tremble in her soul, but an ounce of pride swells within her.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she whispered, unfurling her fingers.

Letting out a huff, she felt her confidence build step by step as she strode to doorway of the ballroom. Her heels clicked against the tile, echoing through the empty dark corridor she had walked so many times before. With her back rigidly straight, shoulders squared, and chin held high, Varrine entered into the grand hall. Instantly, she was greeted by the gentle sounds of light music playing and hundreds of mages making small talk with one another. Varrine's breath was stripped away from her, she had forgotten the sheer magnificence Aretuza was capable of when it came time for special ceremonies.

Hundreds of flickering flames illuminated the vast space while a large circlet of fire loomed above the ballroom, lighting up the night sky. Large tapestries hung from the walls, ornately embroidered with patterns. The finest wine was served in goblets which never remained empty for long and the most decadent food displayed on silver plates occupied every inch of table space as possible.

Varrine moved deeper into the room at an easy pace, not hurried, nor meandering. She could feel the weighted and calculated glances of her fellow mages as she walked in their direction. They flashed excessively polite smiles at her, but once she passed the whispering began. Turning around was unnecessary, for those friendly smiles instantly morphed into scowls of distaste and suspicious glares. Those present would never fail to remind her of what she was. To humans, she was not a human. To elves, she was not an elf—just a reminder of how far their species had fallen.

Things had remained the same since she was but a young girl, it would seem. How easy of a reminder it was as to why she left in the first place. She had always hated the politicking and gossiping that was intertwined with mages. Feigning indifference, Varinne skillfully plucked a goblet of wine from a passing servant while moving through the room, the skirt of her dress flowing smoothly behind her. She greeted each of her colleagues with a nod, even catching the violet irises of Yennefer who was hanging on the arm of her witcher. The two raised their goblets to each other as Yennefer leaned over to the man, whispering in his ear.

Yennefer and the witcher shared a glance with each other before the white-haired man's yellow eyes flickered over to hers, with a cautious and suspecting stare. Regarding him coolly, Varrine brought her goblet to her lips and turned her back to him. The whispers persisted and Varrine found herself wishing she could flee Aretuza altogether. Glancing around the room for an escape, her eyes unexpectedly met the steely gaze of Tissaia de Vries', who returned her stare evenly.

"You think shrinking yourself will lessen these girls hatred of you?"

"Maybe,"

"Stupid girl!" Tissaia hissed. "They will despise you more, they'll think you're pitying them. And the last thing those girls want is pity from a half-elf,"

Varrine downed the rest of her drink in one swig and casually moved towards her, snatching up another as she went. Poised with confidence only afforded to the Rectoress of Aretuza, Tissaia was immaculately dressed. Her dark hair was swept flawlessly into an elegant updo. and was dressed in a dark green gown richly embellished with a golden pattern.

"Tissaia," Varrine greeted, slightly dipping her head at her old mentor.

"Varinne, how glad I am to see you," Tissaia said warmly, reaching out and gently touching her arm. "It’s been too long," she added, giving her bicep a squeeze.

"It has," Varrine agreed, mirroring her mentor's smile.

"Might I say, you look lovely dear," Tissaia complimented, giving her a once-over.

Dressed in a smooth, velvet gown resembling the night sky, Varrine's lace bodice clung to her like a second skin. The straps hung off her shoulders, leaving her neckline exposed giving the tease they might slip off at any moment. To complete her look for the evening, a portion of her hair was styled in tight, twisted buns while the rest hung freely down her back, showing off the garnet earrings and the matching amulet fastened around her neck.

"Is there a certain mage you are hoping to see here tonight?" Tissaia wondered, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Tissaia," Varrine groaned, with exasperation but smile crept on her face.

"Varrine Darsa," a male voice said, causing her to look over her shoulder and spot a man dressed in black and red robes.

"Vilgefortz," she thought.

The two had met only a handful of times, but he never displayed any outright malice or hostility towards her compared to other members of The Brotherhood.

"Vilgefortz," Varrine greeted, her eyes following him as went to stand beside by Tissaia.

"It is great to see you Varrine, as always," he said, with a brilliant smile contrasting brilliantly with his tawny skin. "How rare it is to see you among us," he remarked, his hand coming to casually rest on Tissaia's back.

Varrine could barely control the slight quirk that arose at her brow from the action.

"Intentionally so," she responded bluntly. "Besides, my duties as resident mage keep me plenty busy," she informed. "I rarely have time to leave the town," she added, before raising her glass to her lips.

"Fortunately, tonight is one of those times," Tissaia said. "Should you grow tired of where you are, know that the doors of Aretuza will always be open to you Varrine, despite everything that has happened," she mentioned. "Margarita will be delighted to have you apart of staff again," she added.

"Margarita?" Varinne echoed, interest coloring her features. "You're no longer the rectoress, Tissaia?" she asked, genuine surprise on her face.

"I'm not," Tissaia answered, shaking her head. "This happened fairly recent, do not feel guilty for not knowing," she reassured.

"I never thought I’d see the day where Tissaia de Vries would no longer hold the title of rectoress," Varrine commented, a hint of teasing behind her words.

Tissaia smiled, "All things come to an end,"

"Hmm, why do I sense an underlying meaning from that?" Varrine noted, with a chuckle.

"It's as Tissaia said before," Vilgefortz chimed in. "Aretuza and Margarita would be happy to have you on board once more as a teacher," he said. "In such unsettling times, it’s best fellow mages stick together," he urged.

"While that is very pleasing to hear," Varrine," began. "I fear not all share the same sentiment," she mentioned, her eyes idly sweeping across the room. "Too much bad blood has been shed already," she remarked grimly.

Inadvertently, her eyes settled on Stregobor and the small grin she allowed to flourish on her lips shrunk. Stregbor's expression transformed into what she could only describe as unabashed smugness. Maintaining eye contact with Varrine, he leaned over to whisper something to Artorius, who nodded in response. Instantly, the warmth Varrine allowed herself to feel was sucked out of the room, once again replaced with coldness and the overarching feeling of unwelcome.

"I've taken too much of your time, Tissaia," Varrine stated, still feeling Stregobor's eyes boring into the back of her.

"Varrine—" Tissaia began.

"Enjoy the party, excuse me," Varrine said hastily, before brushing past her mentor.

~~~x~~~

Tucked away amongst the columns, Varrine surveyed the ballroom from her vantage point on the balcony. She stood apart from everyone, wondering for the hundredth time what she was doing here. Sipping at the wine she held, a frown marred her features, mentally noting her fellow mages kept their distance. Though their stares told her everything she needed to know, none seemed inclined to openly disparage her.

"Foolish, foolish woman," Varrine chided herself, bitterly chuckling.

Nothing good was going to come of this. Voluntarily inserting herself back into this environment was misguided idea in the first place. To think bygones could be bygones, an entirely ridiculous notion. She was a fool to get involved, never mind agreeing to attend this ball. Her presence is just as unwanted as the day she first step foot in these halls. Varrine couldn't believe Yennefer would think it smart to invite her here, with everything going on involving the elves. Did the sorceress truly not care what people thought?

"So the whispers are true," a soft spoken voice said, feeling warmth behind her.

"That voice…"

The body wasn't touching hers, but they were a hair's breadth away. She knew this warmth. She knew their smell. They all brought back memories, good and bad ones. Like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore, they rushed through Varrine's mind.

Gentle words and caresses and soft touches. Light kisses to her mouth, her eyes, the tips of her fingers, every inch of her skin that he could reach.

"Must you go?" he asked, leaving a chaste kiss on her lips before moving down to nip at her jaw. "I just got my hands on you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear before kissing down her neck.

The heady delight of his touch, his fingers grazing against her smooth as he slid them down her legs.

With a gasp, Varrine spun around raising her head to face the tall, slim figure of her friend for many years and her lover for many more. He had loved her more deeply and intensely than she could have ever hoped.

"Radcliffe," she breathed, her eyes roving over his face.

Just as pleasing to the eye the day they first met, Radcliffe's head of dark brown hair was neatly combed back, allowing Varrine to fully view his face. How she wanted to wrap her arms around her lover's neck, rest her head on his chest, lay kisses on his body. But, it was too soon, much too soon.

"Varrine," he greeted, staring at her as many emotions played across his features. There was relief and fear, hope and anger, joy and bitterness. "I'm glad you're here, it's been too long," he stated, a strained smile stretching across his lips.

"20 years to be exact," she recalled, handing her drink off onto a passing servant's tray.

"You look well," Radcliffe complimented, his eyes flitting over her figure.

A dry laugh left her, "Yes, well some days I certainly don’t feel it," Varrine admitted, resting her palm against her stomach. "The current state of the Continent weighs heavily upon me," she said, weariness creeping into her voice. "I fear even the small town under my protection will be crushed under its weight," she exhaled.

"A fear shared by many—"

"No!" Varrine cut in sharply, her eyes narrowing. "This weight I speak of, only a few are burdened with it since birth," she said, swallowing thickly. "Murdered for it," she stressed.

"Trouble tonight?" Radcliffe questioned, frowning noticeably.

"My presence alone is trouble, it stalks me like my own shadow does," she answered. "Thanks to Francesca Findabair allying with Nilfgaard, every elf now has a larger target on their back," she said. "We're all Nilfgaardian spies or Scoatiel," she noted bitterly.

Allowing their conversation to lull, Varrine shifted her body to face the railing that overlooked the ballroom. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the bar, observing and listening to the mages below. The raucous laughter of men and the chatter and gossip of the women remained ever present.

"Varrine," Radcliffe called, and she turned her head in his direction. "Why didn't you join us at Sodden Hill?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"I believe The Brotherhood had already met its elven quota with Yennefer," Varrine quipped, with a smirk.

"I'm being serious, Varrine,"

"As am I," she said, her smile fading. "It wasn't my battle to fight," she argued simply.

Radcliffe's gaze flickered across Varrine's face excepting to see a flicker of playfulness, some indication that she was just joking, but there was none to be found.

"Good gods, you truly believe that," he breathed in realization. "How was it not your battle to fight?" he questioned, the blue of his irises hardening. "Nilfgaard threatens us all," he pointed out, his brows knitting together.

"Tell me how Nilfgaard is any worse than the Northern Kingdoms," Varrine challenged, keeping her voice low.

"Nilfgaard keeps their mages on a short leash,"

"Nilfgaard treats elves with dignity,"

"Careful, Varrine," Radcliffe warned, his eyes narrowing. "You sound dangerously close to a Nilfgaardian sympathizer," he murmured.

"I'm aware Radcliffe," Varrine admitted, an iciness in her tone. "Honestly, why is it of import why I didn't fight. Plenty mages belonging to the Brotherhood didn't, so why am I being singled out?" she pressed, anger rising within her.

"Because of who you are!" Radcliffe hissed. "Some mages can afford the stance of neutrality, you are not one of them Varrine,"

She snorted, "And if I did make the journey to Sodden, then what?" she wondered. "The Northern Armies win, only for The Brotherhood to question my allegiances right after?" Varrine asked, a sardonic laugh leaving her. "Look at what they did to Yennefer, the 'Hero of Sodden'. She only has a quarter of elven blood, and that was enough for them to vilify her," she reminded, a sardonic chuckle bubbling past her lips.

"You forget, she did herself no favors by failing to execute a Nilfgaardian General to prove her loyalty to The North," he countered easily.

"And you truly think that would’ve been enough to satisfy them, Radcliffe?" Varrine questioned, scoffing at the thought. "If it were I in that predicament, do you honestly believe it would only take a meaningless execution to put doubts over my allegiance to bed?" she wondered. "It wouldn’t matter if I joined or not, the end result would always remain the same. Me, losing," she insisted, a shadow falling across her face.

An uncomfortable, weighty silence quickly descended upon them following her words. Unconsciously, Varrine's grip around the cool railing had tightened while pointedly focusing her attention below. The soft string melodies trickled out from within the ballroom in muted undertones beneath layers of animated conversations and laughter. With every second that passed, the silence stretching between Varrine and Radcliffe grew to be almost near suffocating. It was in this moment, when the tension between them was almost cuttable, the feeling of a warm, soft hand rest on top of Varrine's.

She inhaled sharply in surprise, almost leaping out of her skin. Varrine's gaze dropped to her hand, watching him interlace their fingers as he softly exhaled a gale-like breath.

"I would've defended you," Radcliffe vowed, "I will always defend you," he amended, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "Until I have no more breath to give," he finished softly, running his thumb across her knuckles

Their eyes met again, the mood brightening, if only a little.

"There was never a doubt you wouldn’t," Varrine acknowledged, briefly glancing down at their interlocked fingers. "You're loyal to a fault, Radcliffe," she said, keeping her voice low to match his. "For better or worse," she added returning her stare back to him.

Radcliffe shifted his weight from the rail, pushing himself up to his full height. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out, letting his fingers graze down her cheek. Varrine's breath caught itself in her throat, his warm fingertips evoking some kind of a tickle.

"You don’t know how relieved I was to hear that you weren't one of the casualties at the battle," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his palm.

"And yet you still didn't write me?" Radcliffe whispered back.

"I feared my letter would've been read by eyes that weren't yours," she explained. "Private correspondence is not private during times of war. You would be forced to answer questions about me that you shouldn't have to," Varrine said.

"Stregobor and Artorius could nag me until they were blue in the face," Radcliffe joked, reaching down to enclose his hand around Varrine's. "I wouldn't have uttered a word about you," he promised, locking his eyes with hers before lifting her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles tenderly.

"My noble Radcliffe," Varrine smiled.

"Varrine," he began. "Once this conclave business is over, I can put a good word in for you with the council," Radcliffe suggested, causing Varrine's face to immediately contort in disgust and abruptly snatch her hand away from his as if she'd been burned, an action which visibly hurt him.

"I do not need your 'good word', Radcliffe," Varrine hissed, glaring at him fiercely. "For I have done nothing wrong, it was I who was wronged by the council, not the other way around!" she spat.

"It was not my intention to upset you, Varrine. I—"

Whatever Radcliffe was going to say was cut short by the clicking of heeled shoes rapidly approaching them. Joining them in the secluded corridor was none other than Sabrina of Glessving, her pink lips curled up into a smirk which Varrine had always found to be insufferable.

Sabrina remained flawless as Varrine remembered her to be, her shiny, sleek blonde locks draped over her shoulder in waves adorned bejeweled hair pins. Her hair complimented the figure hugging, shimmery gown she was clad in; it showed off Sabrina's prized assets and left nothing to the imagination.

"Well, isn't this adorable," Sabrina cooed, her voice dripping with honey. "Ex-lovers reunited, at a ball no less," she continued, waltzing over to Radcliffe and wrapping her slender arms around him with familiarity.

Sabrina's blue eyes flitted over to Varrine, sending waves of fury through her body. A million questions whirled around in Varrine's head, each one battling for dominance to leave her mouth. She struggled in silence, betrayal and jealousy tugging at her heart while her nose burned with the tears she was holding back.

"Varinne, it's not what you—"

"You wouldn't mind if I borrowed Radcliffe from you, Little Elf?" she asked, purposefully pressing her already half exposed bosom against him. "You aren't the only one who wants to speak with dear Radcliffe here," she added, walking her fingers up his chest in an seductive manner.

Cold anguish filled Varrine, leaving a searing pain in her chest. Glancing at Radcliffe once more, he made no move to untangle himself from Sabrina, only staring back her in torn silence.

A bitter smile crept onto he face, "He's all yours," Varrine said, her voice reduced to a whisper.

#black!reader #the witcher fanfiction #black!oc #black fanfiction #radcliffe the witcher #radcliffe the obnoxious #the most niche fanfiction ever #the witcher #the witcher oc #the witcher x reader

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writing-in-sin · 1 year ago

Text

KaiShin scene fic idea: Kyoto arc

I dunno if it'll just be a part of a fic or a fic itself based on the idea of Kaito being there in Kyoto too simply to keep his reckless Tantei-kun safe but I just want Kaito to be there in Kyoto

Shinichi doesn't want to admit it, but he's happy and excited to have KID around not unlike when he mistakenly thought Vermouth was Kaito

It could be a willing favour he takes up when Haibara and Hakase told him about the school field trip (in this fic idea, they've come to a truce after the Bell Tree Express). While they dont know his identity yet, they do know Kaito hangs out at Blue Parrot since Jii is a friend of Hakase's

Anyways, since I headcanon that Kaito is a year older than Shinichi, Shinichi has a habit of calling Kaito 'senpai' or 'Kai' in private moments. While he has all the clues for KID's identity, Shinichi keeps it to himself as a sign of trust until KID himself does the reveal

Which Kaito does when he waits by his motorcycle at the hotel's entrance, phone in hand

---------

"Hello?" Shinichi answers, standing with the rest of his class as they wait for their teacher's instruction and feeling a little confused at the unknown number

A familiar voice chuckles, dark and smooth with dangerous mischief. "A little Ojou-chan told me that you're doin' something reckless without me. Which, unfair, so I'd thought of joining you."

"...hah?"

"What's wrong, Shinichi?" Ran asks

But Shinichi can't hear anything besides the thumping of his heart, anticipation and excitement coursing through him. "Are you--?"

"Look up, Tantei-kun."

And he does, eyes finding KID on instinct across from him and without realizing it, a beaming smile blooms across his face not unlike the sunflowers KID likes to give him

"Senpai!" a breathy laugh tumbles out, disbelief and excitement mixing as Shinichi jogs up to KID

KID pushes away from his bike, wearing his preferred style of clothing that he rarely wears around Ekoda to avoid questions about his more powerful physique because of his life as a phantom thief

Noting this, Shinichi takes in KID under the sunlight for the first time. The pitch black hair. The gold eyes that darkens into indigo-violet when they reach his pupils. The blue jeans and black leather jacket over a white v-neck that hides absolutely nothing of the powerful body underneath

But its the familiar roguish grin on a dangerously handsome face, the dark glint dancing in those summer night eyes that will always gives KID away

Shinichi reaches out, hand on cool leather above a beating heart and chuckles when it doesn't fade away into an illusion. "You're here. Under the sunlight."

"Thought it was about time that Kuroba Kaito gets to spend time with you too, Tantei-kun." Kaito smiles, soft and private when shocked blue eyes snap up at him as he tucks a sunflower behind Shinichi's ear. "Not like you didn't already know who I am though, hm, Meitantei?"

Shinichi blinks before returning the smile and lightly punches a sturdy shoulder. "Wanted you to tell me when you were ready, barou."

Kaito snickers

They break apart when a teacher calls out. "Would you be Kuroba-kun by any chance? The volunteer for the tour?"

"That's me." Giving a showman's bow, Kaito smiles with cool politeness and offers a rose to the woman. "At your service."

Amused at the flustered teacher, Shinichi raises a brow at the magician. "Volunteer?"

"I spend a lot of my time here because of a family friend." Kaito grins, sneaking an arm around Shinichi's waist to pull the detective close. His grin widens when Shinichi merely rolls his eyes before settling into his side, used to his antics by now. "So who better than me to offer a tour for this ancient capital?"

Shinichi huffs. "A local?"

"Ah, but knowing me, does that answer still stand?"

Knowing by now that KI- Kaito can most likely impersonate a local from decades past, Shinichi shakes his head. "Fine, fine."

They share a laugh, making their way to where the rest of Teitan are

-----

That's all I've got for now. If you've read this up until the end, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it

#kaishin #dcmk #kuroba kaito #magic kaito #kaito kuroba #kaitou kid #kaitou 1412 #Kudou Shinichi #shinichi kudou #kudo shinichi #shinichi kudo #kaito x shinichi #kaishin fic ideas #kaishin drabbles #detective conan #meitantei conan #case closed

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desigemini24 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Whenever you get round to your requests, could you see if you can do this one?

OC female Targaryen reader × Aemond Targaryen story. Instead of Aemond accidentally killing Lucerys, he kills her and obviously the whole Dance of the Dragons start and then him and Daemon obviously both fight in the Gods Eye, perhaps he gets reborn but reborn in like Harry Potter universe and he gets told by fates or something that she was reborn there and he has to find her or something?

Not sure if you do crossovers? But you could always just get them reborn again to start again? Just thought crossovers were cool 😎

AN- So, I am writing headcanons for this; enjoy your crossover... Also, Aemond's reborn name is Aries and (Y/N)'s is Delphinus.

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Being Reborn in Wizarding World with Aemond...

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @saraelizabeth26, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr, @themaze13, @candypurplebutterfly, @5moremin, @yariany02, @issybee0611, @gossipandspills, @hopebaker, @kateris-world, @lady-athanasia, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @cherryaemond, @watercolorskyy, @literishdegree99, @sunmoon-01, @savagemickey03, @ultrav0lence, @deltamoon666, @severewobblerlightdragon, @hyacinthus007, @andlizeth, @shine101, @beefbaby25

Warnings- None except for Gryffindor vs Slytherin

GIF Credits to @my-harry-potter-generation

You were Lucerys' elder sister but younger than Jace and your dragon was the Bronze Fury.

You were bastard, just as your siblings; but you were loved more than anyone of them, and played multiple roles for your family.

You were Rhaenyra's darling daughter; Daemon's political advisor; Jace's partner of history lessons; Luke's Valyrian teacher and Rhaenys' little sweetheart.

Instead of Luke, you go to Storm's End on Vermithor.

And you meet your uncle there, beside one of Baratheon's daughters.

Everything went from bad to worst, and ended with your dead and Vermithor went back grieving his rider's death.

The entire Dance unfolded as it had to; Vermithor was tamed by a bastard by the name Hugh Hammer and died a warrior's death.

Aemond met in a face-to-face battle with Daemon above the God's Eye. As a result, both of them died with their respective dragons.

A few years later, Aemond is reborn as a wizard in Malfoy family as the second son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy; younger brother of Draco, by a year.

While you took birth as Sirius Black's child with Marlene McKinnon and were under Remus Lupin's custody while your father remained in the prison.

Aemond was prophesied to have a soul mate when he turned ten.

He only remembered the major events of it.

Him on a dragon. Him killing a lady with brown hair and violet eyes. Him fighting a man with long blonde hair.

He is told of it when he was eleven by his mother, who was kind and loving and reassured him that even if he doesn't find her, then it is alright.

"Aries, I know this is a heavy burden to carry, my son. But even if you don't find her, or him, even then; it's alright. Because love doesn't have to be written in stars, just in hearts."

He reaches at the train, alongside his goon of a brother and his sidekicks; but soon find a vacant couch.

It was then when you met him.

And while he was overwhelmed with nostalgia and overbearing loss; you, Delphinus, were completely unaware of his inner conflict.

Sitting in front of him with a grin, you extend your hand to him, saying your name to him.

That was when he realized that you had no recognition of your shared past.

So, with a headstrong aim of reminding her who she was and of their shared past life.

But, the first problem comes in during the sorting ceremony.

Because he gets allotted to Slytherin, a.k.a. the most devious house of Hogwarts.

While you get sorted to Gryffindor, where you met the Golden Trio, a.k.a. archenemies of Draco Malfoy.

"It's better not to interact with them."

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #aemond targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond

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lilykatelyn-blog · 1 year ago

Note

can i request a fic where niki is super flirty towards reader and she pretends to not like it but we all know she does, and they end up together?

Leave me alone.. N.RK

genre: fluff, maybe angst?

SEND IN A REQUEST

warnings: none :)

notes: sorry it took me so long anon 😭 I hope you like it! Just message me if you want me to redo it or do an e2l with a diff member or diff group.

“Shut up Niki.” You said after his millionth time trying to flirt with you. “Come on! It’s not that hard to admit you’re in love with me!” He said, putting on a faux offended face, or at least you hoped it was fake. You rolled your eyes at some horrible pickup line he said. Some ‘roses are red, violets are blue,’ shit. “Niki. Class is starting, sit down.” You hissed at him, obviously frustrated.

“y/n?” He asked 30 minutes into class. “What?” You asked, emphasizing the T. “Why do you hate me?” That got you to look up from your notes and away from the teacher, only to be met with his sad face. Your heart almost broke in 2 at the fact that he thought you hated him. To be honest, his teasing was really funny, and he made your day 10x better. “I-“ the bell rang, cutting you off. You silently thanked timing and used it as an excuse to run out and get home as quick as possible. What you didn’t know is that he took that as the idea that you hated him even more. The next day in class, he didn’t flirt with you, or talk to you, or sit with you, or bother you for a pencil. That was unusual but you decided it wasn’t anything to worry about because maybe he was sick? Yeah, surely he was sick and just didn’t want to get you sick? You started overthinking it when it started happening every single day. After 1 week of him doing this, you confronted him after class. “What’s going on?” You asked him, your tone coming out harsher than you expected or intended it to. “Uhhh.. class is.. over?” He said, looking confused at you while he packed his backpack. “No! I mean, yeah, but not what I meant! Why are you ignoring me?” You asked, a little more clear. “Oh! Uhm, the flirting was making you uncomfortable right? And I annoy you right? I uh, just decided to stop being a bother.” He said, looking down and scratching the back of his neck. He started to get up to leave, but you stopped him.

“when did I say I hated it? I uh.. lghbdbs it..” you moved your hand across your mouth (if your Indian or in general have watched it, kinda like Shah Rukh Khan saying World Dance Championship in Happy New Year to Boman Irani (they play Charlie and Tammy)). “You what?” He asked, smirking at your confession. “I uh.. lo- it.” “Say it properly so I can ask you out you idiot.” He all but yelled out of frustration. “Fine! I.. lo- I love it..” your voice was strained as you spoke the words.

“okay, now that that’s over with. Y/N L/N, will you go out with me?” “It’s not a proposal dude-“ “yes of no?!” “Fine, fine, yes.”

and they all lived HAPPILY EVER AFTER, La La La La La~

#niki nishimura #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen angst #niki fluff #niki angst #e2l #<3 Lil’s Asks <3

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ash5monster01 · 11 months ago

Text

Goes On Chapter Eight

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.3k

Seven ←→ Nine

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

2/13/60

Charlie nearly jumps out of his skin when hands shake him awake. Eyes darting open only to not be able to spot anything in the dark room. His heart is practically in his throat as he registers he’s still in his room where he is meant to be and the dark figure looming above him is none other than Nate’s. Finally allowing himself to calm and sink back into his covers, he lets out a deep sigh.

“There is so many other ways you can wake a guy up” Charlie groans, hands coming to rub at his eyes. That’s when he sees it’s nearly midnight on the alarm clock beside him. Not so long until Valentine’s day.

“Sorry, but get dressed” Nate whispers, shuffling back to his side of the room where he sees him start putting on his shoes.

“Any reason in particular?” Charlie asks as he sits up and Nate just laughs.

“Yes dingus. It’s the night before the school dance. We have no homework and Mr. Lancaster took sleeping pills. That means it’s time to party” Nate tells him, referring to the teacher that monitors the dorm floor. He was much different from Dr. Hager but he did pretty much the same.

“Party, and how does that work around here” Charlie says knowing it was nearly impossible to party back at Welton. Nate just grins in the night and throws Charlie his jacket.

“Dress warm”

It’s not long until the boys are sneaking out the dorm floor. Finding their way downstairs and out the entrance. Snow falls slowly and Charlie is glad he had worn a sweatshirt under his coat. By the time they make it to the tree line and see the flicker of flashlights he finds himself experiencing some intense deja vu. Yet that all goes away when amongst the small crowd is Evelyn. She’s bundled up tightly with a blanket low hung off her shoulders. The green hat atop her head brings out her hazel eyes even in the dark of the night. Charlie feels the breath get knocked out of him as he spots her. He realizes he had never seen her in pants until now and it makes his mouth go slack.

“There you guys are, what took so long?” Violet seethes, teeth practically chattering as she stays tucked up under Martin’s arm.

“New guy here had a bunch of questions” Nate jokes as he moves to join his friends. There isn’t many people within the small crowd that Charlie doesn’t know. Only two he hadn’t really gotten to know. A blonde girl named Amy from his Math class and one of the basketball players Eli, who had his arms wrapped around Laurie. Jay Adam’s apparently never asked or Eli just beat him to it. Either way she still didn’t end up with small Nick Harrison.

“Hey you” Evelyn smiles up at Charlie as she approaches him. He does his best to smile back as he freezes in the night. Her small hand reaching out and smoothing down the front of his jacket.

“It’s freezing” he tells her and she giggles lightly, arm hooking with his own.

“Don’t worry, we have ways of warming you up” and Charlie’s cheeks flush red in the dark of the night. He knows that wasn’t the way she meant but then again she still probably knew exactly what she said. The small group moving deeper into the woods where you could no longer see the faint lights coming from the school windows.

Pretty soon they reach a clearing and Evelyn leads him to a log sat on the ground. As Charlie moves to sit beside her, Nate and Marty begin work on a fire in front of them, and he realizes fairly quickly that it had become a makeshift campfire set up.

“Shouldn’t be long until the fire is going but this should warm you up for now” she tells him softly, revealing the silver flask from her coat pocket. Charlie raises his eyebrows at her as she hands it to him.

“This is yours?” he can’t help but question and Evelyn laughs.

“Yeah, I’m not much for wine coolers like those girls over there” she points across the fire to the other log where Violet and Laurie had already cracked open a few. “Marty has a fake and he sneaks them into the woods every time we want to celebrate”

“Of course he does” Charlie says with a chuckle before twisting the top off and letting the liquid burn down his throat. When he goes to pass it back Evelyn is quick to take a sip as well, and Charlie’s throat dries because his lips had just been there, and it was extremely sexy to see a girl not choke on her liquor.

“Hey, better share” Nate calls out as the fire catches and Evelyn giggles before tossing it to him. They both watch as Nate unscrews the cap and tips the liquid back in his mouth. It’s when his face screws up tightly and a deep cough leaves his throat, Evelyn and Charlie die of laughter.

“Yeah get your jollies” he sneers, arm moving to wipe his mouth and pass the flask right back.

“Don’t worry big guy, the girls got some wine coolers for you over there” Charlie teases and Nate rolls his eyes yet he can’t help but be happy. Charlie and him had gotten really close after their talk and even if he still did love Evelyn it was so much easier to bear now.

“I’m surprised you aren’t sleeping and stressing about tomorrow” Charlie says even though he supposed by now it already is tomorrow.

“I can stress in the morning, since I have to work the dance it’s better to enjoy myself now” Evelyn tells him and Charlie smiles, shivering lightly in the night air.

“Still cold?” Evelyn asks innocently, eyes batting up at him, and Charlie smiles.

“I’ve faced worse” he says, remembering all those freezing nights spent in the cave. They were all worth it though.

“Yeah well I can’t have my co planner sick” Evelyn says and next thing Charlie knows, she’s wrapping the edge of her blanket around him. Scooting up flush to his body and huddling into his own warmth. His heart nearly doubles in speed as he pulls the blanket close to them both and wrapping them inside. “Better?”

“Way better” he whispers, face so close to her own all he can think about is kissing her. The way the fire reflects off her eyes is enough to make his insides melt, but before he can get to lost in his head he’s pulled right back out.

“So Charlie, does Welton have anything like this? Some secret party getaway?” Violet asks from across the fire and Charlie turns to face her.

“Not really, I mean me and my friends used to sneak out to this old cave but it was too strict for us to ever really have a secret hangout spot. Our dean had guard dogs even, barked if we ever tried to leave our rooms after curfew” Charlie tells them and majority of them are shocked to even hear of this. An actual fact about the boy in front of them who had spent so long trying to hideaway.

“How’d you sneak out then?” Marty asks, freeing a cigarette from his letterman jacket and lighting it.

“Dog treats” Charlie smirks and the group around the fire is laughing at the image.

“Probably wasn’t popular enough to know about the best party spot on campus” Nate teases, settling on a log beside Amy since it was the last spot open.

“Oh you’ve got it all wrong Nathan Price. I was a living legend at that school. If there was a party spot, I would’ve been the one to make it” Charlie says, the old confidence slurring in his tone. The flash of amusement in his eyes is enough to convince everyone around him.

“Is that why you got your ass beat?” Evelyn asks and the rest of the group wears confused looks at the mention of this.

“Not exactly. I wrote an article in the school paper without permission and during the assembly to address it I snuck an old phone in and when it rang I answered it in front of the entire student body and staff. Told the dean it was a phone call from God, and they should allow girls at Welton” and as he recalls the story, the rest of them laugh harder and harder. Evelyn even is shocked by the outgoing stunt the boy had pulled.

“That definitely deserved an ass beating” Evelyn agrees and Charlie chuckles, feeling that old confidence surge through him and settle in his bones. Which may explain why he takes the arm pressed against her and wraps it slowly around her waist and out of sight from everyone else.

“Yeah, I’m man enough to admit that even I had gone a little too far with that one. My friends were pissed” he says, a flash of Neil’s face as he limped back to his dorm room. The sadness in his eyes as he feared for the worst. As if Evelyn senses his sadness she snuggles in closer to his side which in turn causes Charlie to squeeze at her waist.

“Why would they be mad?” Laurie questions and Charlie takes a moment before deciding to answer.

“I had signed the article with the name of our secret club, while none of them had no idea I was writing it let alone publishing it. Hence the phone call from God so I could take the blame and protect all of them” he says and Evelyn’s heart soars for the kind boy beside her. One she really would’ve liked to know five months ago.

“I take it back, apparently he is a legend” Nate says as a cigarette gets passed to him and Charlie just laughs with the shake of his head.

“Not anymore, I just so happened to get myself kicked out and dethroned” Charlie says with a soft shrug.

“Why not try for legend status here?” Amy giggles around the puff of smoke from the cigarette Nate had just given her.

“It’s too late for that, I’ve already been stuck in the lame planning committee. My reputation can never come back from that” and Evelyn gasps before knocking her shoulder into his ribs to which he laughs.

“Such a jerk” she shakes her head as the group starts to talk amongst themselves and Evelyn grabs the cigarette Amy has passed her way.

“You smoke?” Charlie questions, more surprised by her tonight than he had in the entirety of knowing her.

“Only on special occasions, especially when I need to relax” and then she was sucking a deep drag, the lit end glowing in the dark night.

“Do you smoke?” she questioned right back around the puff of smoke she blew into the air.

“I did. When I got kicked out I had to abandon my cigarette stash at the school. Worst part is knowing my old roommate was such a goodie two shoes he’ll never get any use out of it. Feels like I wasted them twice” Charlie says and Evelyn chuckles as she taps some ash off the end.

“Well it’s a nasty habit to have anyway. I hate kissing boys who taste like smoke” she said with the soft shake of her head and Charlie was quickly smirking at her.

“Got some plans to kiss me doll?” he asks and she blushes only briefly before laughing into the night air. Without responding she guides her hand to him, cigarette pressed between her fingers. The palm of her hand meets his chin only slightly as her fingers press to his lips and allow him to inhale a puff.

“Not anymore” she said with a mischievous grin, pulling the cigarette back and passing it back to Amy.

“You’re killing me” he told her with a sincerity she was still getting used to. Out of nowhere the last few days Charlie had really come out of his shell. He was approaching her more often than not, spending time with Nate outside of their dorm, and eating lunch with them. It had been a big turnaround.

“That just might be my goal” she tells him and Charlie is squeezing her waist where he still holds her to him tightly. He hadn’t been cold once since she had been there.

“I’m not worried, girls can’t resist me” he says with a coolness that had been so foreign until now. Evelyn just shakes her head and goes to take another sip from the flask.

“I’d like to say that isn’t true but I wouldn’t be here if it was” she says and Charlie laughs into the night air. Tonight had been the first time in a long time he hadn’t felt overwhelmed by the sadness of Neil. He could just be him and maybe begin to accept his life for what it was.

“Still no kiss then?” he asked, smirk heavy on the lips Evelyn so desperately did want to kiss.

“Ask me again later” she tells him and Charlie quickly pumps his free hand in the air.

“I can live with that answer” he tells her and Evelyn smiles before turning her attention back to some of her friends. Easy conversation flows through the cold forest and laughs echo in the late night air. It was the same and yet entirely different and Charlie found that he could be comforted by it while also saddened. You don’t get over things in one night but each new day was becoming easier and easier. Plus being in the woods somehow made it easier, made him feel closer to the boys, and that’s when he remembered.

I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately.

Taglist: @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year ago

Text

Yours Submissively ~ Intrigued

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N Taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Innocence

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

“Isabella?”

Belle turned around to see Steve standing next to the table looking down at her. She stood up quickly. “Mr. Rogers, hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Stark Industries asked me to be a liaison for someone at this table and I’m just waiting for them to arrive.”

Steve chuckled at how flustered Belle was. She had no idea that her contact was him.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the violet blue eyes that had tumbled into his office. She intrigued him but she didn’t give him much to go on. So having her here delighted him. He could see if she was up to the challenge of being his.

“I think you are actually here to sit with me Miss Davis.” He pointed to the cards on the table. All of the six others were partnered off. Mr. Stark with Mrs. Potts-Stark, Mr. Wilson with a Mrs. Romanoff-Wilson and Miss Maximoff with Mr. Vision.

“Oh. I hadn’t realized.” She looked down at her own card. Miss Isabella Davis and next to it was Mr. Steven Rogers.

“Well, if you would like to be seated again Miss Davis,” Steve pulled Belle’s chair again, allowing her to sit.

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers.” Steve took the seat next to her. “I’m not sure what I am doing here.”

“Well, usually at these events, I have someone to talk to and dance with. I usually bring a friend but I had forgotten this event and Wanda, excuse me, Miss Maximoff was kind enough to assist me with a liaison.”

Belle wasn’t sure what to say. She was nervous to look at the gorgeous former super soldier. She had grown up knowing his story but it felt inappropriate to bring up his history. She scrambled to think of what else to say. “So, you own a business now?” She mentally kicked herself.

Steve chuckled. “Yes, I wasn’t sure what to do after I…” he hesitated.

“You left your previous job?” Belle offered.

Steve was grateful. “Yes, after I left, I wanted to build something of my own. I got a loan and here we are.”

“You have great business sense,” Belle said. “I mean, its hard to start your own business, let alone make it as successful as yours has become.”

��Thank you, Isabella. May I ask, how did you end up at Stark?”

“Well, my best friend Lila said I should sign up for this internship, even though it wasn’t in my field of study.”

“You’re not in the engineering program?”

“No, I’m finishing my degree in education and history.” Belle chewed her lip.

Steve tried to keep his breath steady, watching Belle bite her bottom lip. He recalled her statement and it piqued his interest. “Education?”

“Yeah, it’s my dream to become a teacher. Preferable for younger children. Shape the future.” Steve watched as Belle’s eyes took the look of dreaminess as she talked about her passion. Christ, how pretty would she look on her knees with that look, he thought to himself. He mentally shook himself.

“That’s a wonderful dream Isabella.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Steve’s heart leaped at the use of his first name again. Its like they were old friends. Just when he went to touch her, a throat cleared behind him.

“Nice to see you here Rogers, thought you might bail.” Tony Stark smirked at his former co-leader.

“Tony, be nice,” Pepper Potts-Stark admonished her husband. “Steve, hi, nice to see you,” as Steve stood to greet them.

“It’s always a pleasure Pepper, especially watching you put him in his place.” He kissed Pepper’s cheek and shook Tony’s hand. “I was just getting to know your intern here.” He gestured to Belle.

“Ah, Belle, it’s nice to see that you could join us,” Tony said. He made it a point to get to know all of his interns. Belle started to blush at the attention.

“It’s nice to see you too Mr. Stark.”

“Have you met my wife?” Tony moved to gesture to Pepper. “Pepper this is Belle Davis, one of our interns.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Davis.”

“Please call me Belle.” Belle noticed more people joining the table.

Steve took over making the introductions. “Sam, Natasha, this is one of Tony’s interns, Isabella Davis. Isabella, this is my CFO, Sam Wilson and his wife and my COO Natasha Romanoff-Wilson.” Belle shook hands with everyone, trying not to show her nerves at being introduces to the former Avengers.

Soon everyone was seated with the exception of Wanda and Vision, who were at the podium at the front welcoming everyone to the gala. Dinner was served and Belle concentrated on her plate as the conversation swirled around her. Steve could sense that she was tense and assumed it was the fact that she felt out of place. As soon as the plates were cleared, Steve stood up and offered his hand to Belle. “May I have this dance, Miss Davis.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers.” Belle allowed herself to be escorted to the dance floor where music from the 40s were played by the band. Steve took her into his arms and started to dance.

“Are you nervous Belle?”

“A little. People are kinda looking at us.” Belle had glanced around the room.

“Its only because you are so beautiful.” Steve watched her expression change from concern to shock.

“Mr. Rogers…”

“Steve, please.”

“Steve, I’m just an intern and you’re a former hero turned businessman. I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“Maybe I just want you.” Steve’s eyes darkened slightly.

“You don’t know anything about me.” She rolled her eyes as his presumption.

Steve bit his tongue. He couldn’t reprimand her attitude. At least not yet. “So let me get to know you.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you intrigue me.”

“Not sure why.” Isabella fidgeted slightly in his arms.

“Isabella, you are captivating, alluring, gorgeous and a mystery. One that I would like to solve.”

Belle swallowed. She knew she needed to get away from him. He was pulling her in, his scent, his voice, his eyes, were swallowing her whole. This wasn’t what she needed so close to the end. The song mercifully ended. “If you would excuse me, I just need to use the restroom.”

“Of course,” Steve let go and Belle made her way through the crowd. As soon as she hit the double doors she started to run to the exit. Hitting the final doors, she ran into a solid body. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t look at who she hit, she just kept going to her car. The driver, Tim, saw her approached and open the door. “Tim, can you take me home?”

“Course, miss.” He got in and took off into the night.

Steve gave it five minutes and when Belle didn’t return, he headed to the exit. He saw Bucky outside. “Did you see a young woman come out here? Dark hair, blush colored dress?”

“Yeah, she bumped into me and barely said sorry before she climbed into a car. Why?”

“Bucky, I need you to do a background check on a Miss Isabella Davis. “

“Sure punk. Of course. Can I ask why?”

“I’m intrigued. And I see potential.”

A/N: I'm not sure what is going on with the tallest but hopefully how I have done it today fixes the problem

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au

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hyuna-what-are-you-doing · 9 months ago

Text

more unhinged shit my ballet teacher has said (only from today)

ah our violent princess is here.... did I say violent? I meant violet well actually violent works as well. anyway.... your here! (talking to me)

take a seat take several everyone down on the floor

ah my heart rate goes tak tak tak whenever I see something wrong. today it's going TAK TAK TAK TAK TAK ��

hummm jay yes that leg suggesting amputation might help 😃

background where are my back ground people MOVE😤

nO your late out of time just go home at this rate 🙂‍↔️

are you a fool your sure acting like one

leave circus life for you🙂‍↕️

I need me some wine.... actually no need stronger who has the good stuff I ask cause I know what you guys get up too hand it over 🤗

your foot should be banana why is it giving cucumber? FiX 🤯

it's giving salsa hips but I don't remember ordering salsa I want a refund 🥺

*points to a poor dude* is this how you dance when you go clubbing? I see why your single I suggest dance lessons....wait.....

🤌mama where did it go wrong?🤌

I wish I had the confidence to be that incorrect everyone give applause 🤨

no wrong watch me *does steps* it's pa cha ta che (idk what this means he likes his random sounds) your going ah ahh ahhh ahhhh AHHH

YES disco disco I forgot I walked into a club😵‍💫

ooo tension who broke up tell meeee🥺

can you two at least pretend to be in love I'm not asking for much

#네네

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liviavanrouge · 1 year ago

Text

Via

Color: Purple

Age: 28, February 6th

Height: 162 cm

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Horoscope: Aquarius

Personality: Kind to others, Soft-spoken, Jumpy yet patient, Creative and Understanding, Warm-hearted but can be tough and put her foot down, doesn't tolerate bullying, Very caring, Snappy when Damon is insulted

Ability: Fast runner, Good sense of smell, Strong grip

Likes: Singing, Damon, Flowers, Dancing, Being with friends, Helping others

Dislikes: Bullies, Paparazzi, Dark places, Damon upset, her music bring insulted, blood

Work: Singer(Before having Violet), Music Teacher(After having Violet)

Voice: Similar to Gloria from Happy Feet, Higher pitched voice

Favorite animal: Snakes

Favorite food and drink: Fruit and sodas/water

Kinks: Praise, Gentle Sex, Hair pulling, Teasing, Biting, Overstimulation

Backstory: Via was born in the same place as Damon, meeting him through their mothers who were friends and getting him to play with her whenever they meet up. She defended him a lot from bullies, snapping at them and making them leave her friend alone. She never judged him when he started carrying a potted rose and called it cute they he finds comfort in plants. The two grew up together with Via being Damon's main source of protection and sticking with him despite attending different schools. He gifted her a bracelet in which a bully tried to steal but Damon got it back even though he injured himself slightly doing so.

She vanished at the age of ten, leaving Damon alone to face the bullying by himself. She returns home after he turns twenty-three and finds out that Damon had moved away along with her family, causing her to cry alone in the rain. Both reunite in their later years in which Via explains that she was hut wasn't kidnapped and she signed a deal becoming a world loved singer in order to gather money in order to build him his own flower shop.

(Spoilers Below)

Via finds out about Damon's stalking and killing after having a night with him, through DG who left the decapitated head of her manager beside her and she woke up to it thus resulting in the reveal and for her to distance herself for three days. She talks with Eli(Mc), stating that she loves Damon but doesn't condone what he's doing, only for Eli to tell her that what she felt was all she needed, to know she loved him even though they'd get into fights about his stalking. She talks with Damon, getting a promise from him to not do as much stalking as killing as he did before in which she tells him to not make that promise and to keep doing what he wants to do, but let's him know that she is very much so not approving of it.

Three years later the two have their daughter Violet who gave them both quite the scare when she was born due to being so small and having some lung problems due to her asthma. Via comments that Damon becomes like an overgrown puppy whenever it comes to Violet.

#br0ken colors damon #br0ken colors #broken colors #damon br0ken colors #br0ken colors oc

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thedragonagelesbian · 1 year ago

Note

Oc flower asks for Cyrus- Sunflower, Violet, Wisteria

flower asks (thank you <333333333)

Sunflower - What name(s) were you originally thinking of calling your OC?

God, it's been so long since I made Cyrus, I can't remember anything else I considered? I initially made him ~2017 as the twin brother of my other Hawke, Belladonna, for an inquisitor!Hawke AU*. I wanted to give him a 'C' name to match with Carver, since I already had Belladonna & Bethany, as well as something sufficiently fantasy-ish and soft-sounding for my gold-hearted hunk of a warrior.** I might've also considered Cyril?

*No one asked but I had to abandon that idea after this version of Cyrus proved to be too much of a stabilizing influence on this version of Belladonna, countering her penchant for self-destruction to such a degree that the original character stopped working. I don't think I'll ever write them together again, but with their new and improved 2024 characterizations, they'd definitely make each other worse, not better.

**Original Cyrus was also human, bald, and heavily bearded asofjpf there were some. adaptations. when I decided to reuse him for sapphim & vaelsmod's (then) recently released Playable Elfs mod.

Violet - Do a voice claim for your OC?

I really like Nicholaus Boulton's voice acting for m!Hawke, it's hard for me to imagine anything different for Cyrus! I love that he also does the voice for Malcolm in the Legacy DLC, since Cyrus desperately wants to have his father's deep voice, whether via imitation pre-voice drop magic or approximation through voice drop magic. Also @/zevsurana has some great posts about how... performative and strained m!Hawke's red dialogue options sound, which I love as an additional detail for Act 3/post-Kirkwall!Cyrus & ranger!Cyrus. To the extent that the anger and aggression are real, they're also very much a coping & protective mechanism to try to keep himself safe.

Side note, now that I'm finally spending some time with another BG3 OC, it's wild how different some of the acting direction is across the voice presets. Voice 7 (Cyrus' voice) sounds way more tired & done with things than Yiseeril's voice (8). It's very fitting, especially for ranger!Cyrus.

Wisteria - Does your OC have a skill they'd like to learn? What is stopping them?

Varies depending on version/setting

When he's living in Val Royeaux between games, DA2!Cyrus spends a lot of time being frustrated that his brash sword & shield skill set isn't well-suited for Orlais. He tries to learn some more subtle rogue maneuvers from Varric & Zevran, but he never takes to it, being so utterly antithetical to how he's fought & conducted himself for all his life.

Both paladin versions of BG3!Cyrus (so pallybarb/Karlach & Halsin romancing timeline, and shadow sorc/Astarion romancing/turns into a sword timeline) want to further develop their Elvish, as it's a skill that has turned quite rusty in the ~century since his parents died. Pallybarb!Cyrus has a very willing & eager teacher in Halsin, though going to the Hells with Karlach has paused their lessons for the time being. Meanwhile, shadow sorc!Cyrus is a bit too distracted with the. Nonstop existential body horror that is this version of the game for him, so it's not something he's pursuing right now.

And ranger!Cyrus wants to learn to dance!! Though he has a complicated relationship with it, he loved dancing with Wyll sosososo much and wants to be able to do it well to give Wyll the dance partner he deserves and so they can show off in front of the other Baldurian nobles.

#cyrus hawke #cyrus bg3

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keikakudori · 2 years ago

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Their views vastly contrast ⸺ he knows, albeit it is in his heart to see, to understand what severed them. Ukitake knows the dangers of facing the mirror, by which he means how is he to depict truth from reality ( something best akin to the phrase: in the eyes of the beholder ). For those of the Seireitei, they’re no strangers to revelation.

❛ Have these thoughts always been ? From what point has our acquaintances become untrue ? ❜

Voices hummed at the edge of hearing, lives rising and falling like breathing stars; sparks flashed here, dimmed and burnt out there, all of it witnessed by his eyes. On and on they sang, a constant flow of input and awareness both as eyes closed while he bathed in the presence of life and death eternal. Distant galaxies, the heart of the world, the roar of the sun --- each was a symphony of sound that danced and spun beneath the surface of thought and knowledge. Endless, eternal, it strummed across the scope of his mind's eye, strings plucked and pulled tight before releasing again; resonant harmonious notes of sound.

But a visitor had come to him today, a visitor whose life was a precious thing, and he had still let him be. The power that pooled within was one that aided in survival; there was no need for his hands to reach out and consume it. This one he had always been fond of; it had never changed. A teacher of old.

Tea was an easy thing to offer, as were other vintages and delicacies; even like this, Aizen Sousuke had come to find that he still desired food and drink. Power needed fuel needed intake --- such was how it played out. He turned with easy grace, feet moving to direct him towards his visitor at last from where he had stood before the railing, gazing downwards towards the weight of Soul Society where it spread out below, ravaged but not broken. Changes were being made, even now. He knew the changes, just as he found himself knowing the weight of every soul that passed on the streets below. The system---...

Ah. His thoughts were drifting again, and he focused at last upon his visitor, offering a smile.

❝ Are you asking if I always had such ambition, Ukitake-taichou? ❞ A change in that voice, a reverberation that played out like thunder against the earth's bones; it vibrated, a stirring thing that contained within it a power unlike any other barring what he had given to the one who was his right hand ( the one that was arguably consort and lover and lodestone and more to the newborn god ) upon his ascension. ❝ Would any answer I presented satisfy your curiosity? Please, enjoy some tea with me. It's perfectly safe. ❞

No, no poison laced drink nor food, all of it handled and prepared by those that served him.

Only when both had tea in hand and were seated ( though one might see that Aizen did not fully come in contact with the cushion he sat on, if they looked closely enough ) did he consider the answer that he could give.

❝ No. These thoughts, this ambition, were not always within me. They took years to become, to grow; the simple injustice of the system promised that I would be left to witness things that simply were not right. Perhaps -- it was the first time that I was tasked with tracking down a dissident and slaying her was when it truly began. All because she killed a nobleman who had harmed her younger sister. I still remember her face. If I could have let her run ---... but I believe that was a test given me by my captain; to see if I would fit myself within the precedents laid out back then. ❞

A moment to sample the tea, his eyes all but closing. The violet tracings on his features almost seemed to glow, even as the bladed forms of the 'wings' he wore now stirred as if caught by errant breezes, swaying slightly from side to side. Then the depths of silver and sable were snapping open again; far gone were they from the depths of gentle brown, gleaming like moonlight spilling over snow.

❝ I simply saw what you have seemed to have forgotten, what so many have forgotten. This system is harsh; it is cruel, even. But the laws that are in place protected a man who murdered his own spouse; he was not executed for it. He was not imprisoned for it. The man simply did what he did because he knew he could get away with it. And no one saw fit to enact the laws that proclaim those not of noble birth will suffer and perish for taking such actions themselves. It is imbalanced. ❞

His free hand lifted, the nebulae visible within the depths of the chest that was split open to reveal the hogyoku, the crystals that surrounded it at cardinal points pulsing with their own inner glow, matched by the inner flesh of his arms.

❝ Would it appease you if I were to say it was from the time when I first met Kaname? Or Gin? Or perhaps it was when I was a lieutenant and I grew to hate the man that I loved so dearly for how he treated me? I would not say it became untrue; it is simply that none of you saw what I did. ❞

Those eyes lifted to fix to Ukitake's own, boring in like brilliant augurs into the depths of green.

❝ No child of the Rukongai will ever starve or be used again beneath my rule, Ukitake Juushiro. I will not permit it. They should not have to suffer, to fear for their lives, not in their afterlife; they will be guided to their next one peaceably when they are ready. I will make sure of that. That is when it became false; that is when it changed. When I realized the travesty of the children in the Rukongai and how they were permitted to suffer. I am certain that you more than anyone would understand such sentiments. ❞

Aizen sipped again at the tea.

❝ You are not faultless yourself; or do you think nothing of the badges you gave to Kurosaki Ichigo and Kugo Ginjo? They were similar and yet dissimilar. Or do you not think of it at all? Answer me that. ❞

#ask tbt;#kamikakefell #[ verse: soul king ] all the stars will fall from grace with your name engraved in the dust of their deaths.#hee hee hoo hoo i get to finally crack open the soul king verse for aizen

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songs-about-girls-like-me · 1 year ago

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chapter 6: the school camp pt.2, romance defeat

In an obvious turn of events, I found myself in the bathrooms mirror and still didn't like my look for the disco. Not that it was bad, it just didn't have the vibe that I wanted… and I looked underdressed as hell. But I decided again to not let that make me feel stupid or ruin my night. The idea of a dark place blasting music was so exciting for me, like a concert or a club and I was ready to dance my heart out. Nothing was stopping me from dancing, not even my ugly shirt.

The september air was fresh and the sun was just finishing setting as I left the sinks with my long shadow. I walked pass the stone benches where most of the girls were sitting and made my way to the path of gravel to wait.

"Hey" one of my classmates was there too.

"Hey" I said back.

"Are you excited? Do I look alright?" She seemed nervous, with a glimpse of a rush in her eyes. I understood the feeling and broke into a smile, excited, though I praised myself for looking chiller. I looked so chill. Maybe a bit too chill, but whatever.

"Yea, you look great" I said to her. The sun had disappeared between the trees in a matter of seconds and it was officially dark now.

"Thanks!" She sighed. She was significantly taller than me and was kinda popular, but in a way where she was more like... an exact live version of an insecure pawn to the actual popular girls, like in a disney channel movie type of way. I noticed she was wearing lip gloss and felt a bit like a baby bug next to her. I guessed she had something to talk about, and me, being so extremely low profile made her trust in my secretiveness. "Rees. I like someone, do you want to know who he is?" There it was. A smirk crossed my face. I loved secrets almost more than anything.

"Yea, tell me"

Our instructors were now asking us to follow them.

"Girls, follow the line, let's get back to the house!"

"You promise-promise to keep it a secret?"

"Yes, duh"

"I like [random boy]" said Emma as we walked up the path of gravel. In the dark, I managed to hide a grimace from her. I'd known girls found him cool and hot, but hearing it in the flesh was crazy. He was popular, but had zero appeal in my eyes. He looked like an ugly TV host to me, with a horrid gelled hairstyle.

"Oh, cool" I assured her.

"Do you think he could like me? Like… do I look nice?" I though she should care about anything else but that dude. I didn't find her cool (mostly because of this insecure pawn attitude she had) but still: it was insane that she liked him. I just guessed love was like that.

"Sure!" I nodded my head as we made our way around a flower bed of violets. "He- you're awesome Em." I had to suppress my disapproval on her crush while I tried giving her my take on what she should do, cause she kept asking. [Random boy] was ugly but "cool/popular" and I guessed that's just school hierarchy. Then my heart started feeling the electronic dance pop coming our way from the main living room in the house.

The disco was mid but it felt like a big deal, and I liked the fact that the space had a lot of windows, all with a dark view to the woods and they had an actual disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Our teacher, a 40something man with a really funny vibe who said math was "his passion", was there as a chaperone/ adult in charge and he helped making strobe lights with a lantern. Half an hour later, the room was stupidly hot with tween's sweat despite the weather being around 12°C and they had already played Pa Panamericano by "Yolanda be Cool and DCUP" twice. I was having fun, and appreciated that the music was actually really really loud, to the point where it was hard to talk over it. Ella and I had danced together to some songs and got really excited when they played California Gurls cause it was the song our teacher was choreographing in Jazz. But when some Ke$ha or Jason Derulo got played, I would become someone unrecognizable. TiK ToK was already an anthem and I felt great to be able to dance to it in a party type of context. I tried hard to not feel shy. I knew I could be cool and have fun, and so I kept dancing, with my hands in the air and moving my hips like yea.

A group of girls with boys started forming in one of the corners of the room, leaving out everyone but the "popular crowd" to dance between them like they were any different from the rest of my classmates. Like we were all kids, except for them who were actually cool and grown-ups, and were actually meant to be in this party scene.

I didn't care about other girls outdoing me in terms of hair or clothes, or the fact that they had more friends or those aeropostale shirts. I didn't mind if they were closer to our teachers, or talked to boys. Or the fact that I was wearing my grass-stained jeans tonight and they had brought body mist. But for some reason I minded the dancing. And the popular girls had this obnoxious air about them while dancing, as if they could dance better than the rest of us girls. They, and specially Mia (yes, the one who had cursed on the name of Jazz and then found it too hard) were now showing off their dance skills as if they deserved to be thought of as "cooler than everyone else". I couldn't help but care. They all were dancing in a group mixed with girls and boys. I needed to prove to myself that I could be seen dancing. And I kept catching Mia, looking conceited, with her eyes closed and slightly uncordinated arms, quietly making everyone agree to her being the coolest newest most awesome girl here. And I cared. I was not going to silently agree to her being awesome. I knew I was a better dancer. To the trained eye (meaning, me) she even looked clumsy, while everyone liked how she danced.

So I danced and when I felt shy I reminded myself that my dance teacher had given me a little more attention lately, and I forced myself to losen up and listen carefully to the music (which is what I do even to this day lol). I danced telling myself I was really cool and then at some point I decided I needed water. The place was really dark as I crossed the room and got to the hallway leading to a second lobby where they had put out a cart with small plastic cups of water. The lights were dim, coming from the kitchen in the next room. Aaaand I lowkey knew Brody was going to be there and that's why I chose to get water right at that moment, even if part of me thought I was being insane.

"Hey" I picked up a cup from the cart. He was wearing a padded black nylon jacket that seemed too warm. I would always forget how “whatever” he actually made me feel. His outfit was better than mine but I reassured myself that my vibe was cooler. I was chill and outgoing.

"Hi" he said.

"Needed some water" I drank from the small cup, finishing half the water in one go.

"Same." He seemed nervous. Or maybe he was just sweaty. The vibe between us was a bit weirder than usual but I still wanted more water.

"I'm having fun, are you?" I tried to make conversation.

"Yes. Kinda needed a break"

"Yea. It's so hot." He nodded and I drank water. He drank water too. "Aren't you hot?" I asked, noticing beads of sweat on his face.

"Yes! I actaully am. I should take-" He stopped mid-sentence and took the jacket off.

These cups were probably the ones they used to make 100ml lime jelly for our dessert, and when I finished two of them, I took them to a trash can nearby. I picked up a third cup. We were too quiet for a second. And then for another second. I didn’t know what I had expected or wanted from this scene. I didn't like him like that, he was just a boy, and a short one at that.

"Oh, you're here?" a voice appeared from the hallway. It was Mia, and her blonde curls made an actual cool look, even if it was a bit messy with the humid air. "Oh, you took your jacket off? Why? It's kinda cold." Brody and I had been talking from across the cart and I almost felt she didn't notice me cause I was standing 1 metter away from him. But I knew it was impossible.

"Do you want my jacket?" Brody stepped up to her, looking a bit more confident for the first Time.

"Yes, sure." Mia turned around to face me but avoided eye contact while he put the jacket on her shoulders. I suddenly felt as if I shouldn't be there. But I was there first and I actually wanted water so I tried my best to pretend I though nothing about it. I took another sip from my cup. "Thanks.” She gave him a smile. “Come on, let's get back!! Wooo!" she said.

"Sure!" He said meeting her energy.

I was left alone with my water. I felt pissed off. And I felt young looking at them act like that, even if they didn't even looked cool. She took him so swiftly though, I was lowkey impressed even if I was also pissed. I could’ve never done that. It didn't really matter if she took him, cause I never would've. I wasn't decided on anything like that.

I kept thinking. Mia and Brody made no sense together. She was way "cooler" than him. And she didn't seem emotionally involved at all. I thought someone had probably matched them together. I could see Miles, Brody’s friend, behind it. He was the one trying to create a scene that day he told me Rome thought I was pretty, or liked me or whatever it was. Somehow I had no doubts, it was Miles. Either way, Brody wasn't anything mine or even close to me, and I was okay with that. I accepted my defeat on romantic drama for the night, knowing the only bubbly feeling a would get in my heart was the beat of the music inside my chest, and I took the third plastic cup to the trash. It was good that I didn't actually liked lame ass Brody, and the fact that I could keep on dancing all night (at least until 9 or 10pm) .There it was, a beat I recognized making a fuzz inside my heart: it was Justin. The first notes of Baby were playing in the main room and so I sprinted my way back to the hall. "Ohhh, Ohhh" I was screaming and was physically caught to stop my run by a bunch of my nice girls classmates, just in time for Justin to start singing the first verse.

#chapter 6 #chapter six #the school camp #romance defeat

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celestialholz · 2 years ago

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Today in Gay People: Hassel.

There's something I've noticed about our resident art teacher, and that's... well, Flapple. I mean, we all know how gay the whole Applin deal is, but... well, it's where it is that's particularly interesting.

This is Steven Stone's team.

This is Cynthia's team...

This is Wallace's team...

I could go on. (And yes, I'm using champions because, like Hassel, they're important, powerful NPCs with a proper team, and let's be real here, Hassel is five minutes, that Tournament Dragonite and a fuck to give away from kicking Geeta out of his office.)

But the point here is... well, that penultimate slot. The fifth slot in a champion's team - or fourth, in Hassel's case - is reserved for the vice-captain role. It's the Pokemon hardest to take down before the ace, meant to weaken you up - the secondary signature mon. We see here with Milotic - defence for days, Marvel Scale, offensive too. And we see it with Armaldo - excellent attack, difficult type. And then we see it with Gyrados - Dragon Dance, Earthquake, power. Utility. That second-to-last slot is designed to weaken you up for the finale, the real powerhouse of the squad. Leon does it too - his fifth slot is the starter strong against yours, the one you may not have a counter to if your team-building isn't on point.

... And then we have Hassel.

... Now, there's a few things to note here.

Flapple shares the same quad weakness as Noivern, which leads. That's, er... different.

Flapple, statistically, is the weakest Pokemon here. Not by a lot - Dragalge is only ten points or so better, but it's a defensive Pokemon. It's meant to fill that role, as well as being a counter to Fairies.

Flapple isn't the utility mon most penultimate-slot mons are.

... And yet, here it is. Now, I could draw upon Hassel's six-mon Tournament team here, which adds Dragonite into this slot instead, but the Tournament is Hassel fucking about. He's been chilling in the staffroom and someone's gone "oh, that champion-rank kid's up, get out here." The Elite Test line-up is him at work. He's specifically chosen to leave a pseudo-legendary at home... for Flapple.

And why would he do that? @edgeanescence pointed out on the EphemeralArt Discord that the penultimate slot is meant to represent the trainer; the personality and the heart of them, as well as acting as vice-captain. And, well...

Cynthia's is a Milotic. Grace, beauty, the defence of Sinnoh against Cyrus.

Steven's is an Armaldo. A fossil, a Rock-type, the strongest of all fossils at the time - perfect sentiments for him.

Wallace's is a Gyrados. Power, controlled by a former eighth gym slot; ferocity in water.

... And Hassel's is a Flapple. Like him, she has power, but what she represents as a Grass/Dragon is much more important to him than raw offence or defence. She is his softness; she is his tears, and pride in his students; she is part-Brassius. Whether Brassius gave him the Flapple or not is irrelevant, though it's pretty compelling that he did - this man takes a representation of his heart and of his love into battle over the Dragonite, who has 120 more points of stats. By rights, even if he's leaving the Dragonite at home, Haxorus should be here if this is about power, not Flapple.

And you can tell me that it's about game balance as much as you like, but oh look:

Brassius's rematch team, everyone, and look at that penultimate slot.

Look at that Arboliva sculpture, with Brass's own spikiness and Dragon-type purple-tinged blue.

Brassius is not like Appletun, the obvious counterpoint here. Brassius is drama; Brassius is a man formerly weak, much like Smoliv; Brassius is not home comforts, apple pies, yet he's surprisingly kind and encouraging. Reminding you of anything?

... Ah, yes. Arboliva, depending on mood. And, if you're not already convinced...

That's Flapple, in the Violet dex. Strong, and covered in clay. Like a fucking artist, or a man who loves a sculptor.

When the chips are down, when they show up to work, when they have important, key battles, Hassel and Brassius don't just take their Pokemon to the arena.

They take themselves, and they take each other.

#ephemeralartshipping #brassius x hassel #brassius #hassel #pokemon scarlet and violet #... you know I'd say I was done with these old gays at this point #but who the fuck am I kidding #I haven't even done the artazon art yet lmao #honestly game freak what the fuck #I am so desperately normal about these old men #*soft scream*

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nobodyeverasked · 3 years ago

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masterpiece; choi yeonjun

(5,592 words) - large

summary ➣ Y/N and his boyfriend, Yeonjun, are tasked with working on their school’s mural together. However, still running on the high of their recent confession, Y/N and Yeonjun soon discover that staying on task and finishing the mural by midnight will be the most daunting challenge they will ever encounter.

genre ➣ fluff

.・゜-: ✧ :- .・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・. -: ✧ :-゜・．

The beginnings of night began to emerge, blooming past the horizon in warm violets and pinks, and the vivid coral light of the setting sun leaked into all the cracks of the doors of Y/N’s high school. Hallways were empty, classrooms were wrung dry of the life - or at least, the attempt at the spirit - that those dreaded morning announcements always tried to convince their students they have. All the walls were colourless, scrounging for whatever they could of the sunset trickling in through windows that had yet to be cleaned; all except for one. One that existed in its own world of frustratingly bright amber light that spilt out into the silence.

The relentless glow came from the art room at the corner of the school, the beating heart of the student body that always radiated with the colour that people were in such desperate search for. Focused hums and scratches of brushes against canvas filled the space in the room that the silence couldn’t as a silhouette danced along the walls and the half-finished, wall-sized canvas stretched before it. This silhouette, the figure carving themselves in the light and bringing colour to every corner of the canvas was Y/N, who was working calmly, quietly, and diligently on his school’s newest project and initiative.

The school wished to celebrate the renovation of one of its oldest standing hallways, and Y/N, being one of the school’s most well-known art students, was practically handed the responsibility of doing so. He took the job the moment his art history teacher pulled him aside to tell him about their project, his passion overflowing with the mere thought of being able to make a difference with something so close to his heart such as art.

There was nothing Y/N loved more than a quiet night with nothing to his name but the flicker of a desk lamp and a brush between his fingers to create something only he could - however, the school had much better lighting than he did, so he supposed he’d manage with being able to see more. Here, he felt at peace, leaving his thoughts on a canvas, all the feelings he couldn’t explain in colours he could never get twice, and all the words he dared not to say in every single one of the brush strokes he left to adorn the canvas. There was no pressure to keep the conversation, the four walls and whatever Y/N chose to paint next were always the best listeners. And the sunlight that managed to sneak itself between the bristles of all his brushes reminded him that there was no need to be more than who he was.

Art was Y/N’s second language, something he could always rely on and fall back on when all else failed him.

Y/N never thought that there would be a time when he could share a language he could only speak to himself in murmurs at his bedroom desk or into the watercolours he’d balance onto park benches. However, a chance encounter with the guy at the back of his art class left Y/N with the only person who has ever understood him, the only person who had ever taken the time to understand him even more. Paint beneath fingernails, colours between hands held along seasides and across picnic blankets, mindless strokes of dirty, dry brushes against pocket-sized canvases to fill in for the small talk Y/N always dreaded. His days were filled with all of the things he’s only seen in daydreams.

Choi Yeonjun was the name of the guy who made all of that possible, who took him in his arms as they stood tall on thrones of wildflowers and sketched the sunset into each other’s paint-stained hands.

Y/N felt a wistful smile emerge on his face as he thought about Yeonjun and rocked up on his toes to reach the top of the canvas. His futile attempts to reach the canvas’ edge, however, were stopped as he heard the shifting of boots against tile by the doorway, catching a familiar figure out the corner of his eyes, a silhouette that’s eclipsed his in the blue velvet of the night.

Turning to meet them, Y/N’s smile flourished into a bright, radiant grin when he saw Yeonjun returning the light in their stare. Despite the short time they’ve known each other, there was this potent, nearly intoxicating nostalgia seeping beneath his surface when he saw Yeonjun’s eyes spin the overhead lights into the silvers and gold that both of them felt like they have experienced for lifetimes before they met in this one.

Yeonjun’s smile always left Y/N clutching at the heartstrings Yeonjun would strum against every night they were left pressed up against the headboard of Yeonjun’s bed, fingers running down Y/N’s spine.

A shimmer sang proudly between them when Yeonjun made his way closer, this feeling that always lingered faintly beneath the surface of all the times they’d stutter over their goodbyes back before Yeonjun grabbed Y/N’s hands and took his leap of faith. It was a sensation that would always cloud Yeonjun’s thoughts and vision whenever he’d see Y/N flash a grin as he struggled to wipe paint off his face; only for Yeonjun to reach over and make it so much worse. Yet it was something that Yeonjun would never explain to himself until it left him as they reluctantly separated at the bottom of Y/N’s front lawn, pushing and prodding at the curfew they had forced on them after they both showed up at Y/N’s door past midnight.

By the time Yeonjun realized what all these things were, what he was really feeling, he thought it would have been too late. The tail end of their senior year is catching up with them already, with time already slipping from their fingers, glory days losing their shine even before they knew where they’re going or what they’re doing with the rest of their lives. They barely had time to paint their own pictures, and both Yeonjun and Y/N were scared of losing all their colour before they even knew what those colours were.

However, when Yeonjun took Y/N’s hands in his own at the highest point in town - dangling on the edge where the rolling hills kept their rows of townhouses and empty streets prisoner - they knew that as long as they had each other, the portraits they’d need to paint of the versions of themselves they barely know didn’t need to be finished yet.

“Hey, babe.” Yeonjun’s words were sweet, bright like the sunlight they dive into with tangled hands and no fear. There was no room for fear when they were together, and the shapes Yeonjun sketches into Y/N’s back were a constant reminder that there was nothing to ever be scared of. They didn’t see the shame in what the sunlight brought out of them anymore, they didn't look at the sunset and discover that they’ve wasted another day of their lives in each other’s arms. Nothing was a waste with Yeonjun, everything was so special, another colour in their sky they could use to paint each other’s skin with.

“Hey…” Y/N’s voice was barely able to trickle from his lips before Yeonjun chased it and tied their lips together, taking the back of Y/N’s neck and taking all of him in. A hum from Y/N, delicate and thin, ran between them as they pulled apart.

Just looking at all the shimmers in Yeonjun’s smile made Y/N realize how difficult working on this mural with his boyfriend was truly going to be. He’s still trying to grasp the fact that Yeonjun thought it was a good idea to say yes to the art teacher’s offer to join Y/N in the first place.

They claimed to not be good at much, but one thing they always knew how to do was derail each other from anything remotely productive. Laptops and textbooks and notepads and wrinkled pieces of paper are all thrown to the side of wherever Yeonjun could pull Y/N onto his lap for kisses and moonlit whispers and early nights and late mornings tangled up in one another.

“You got so much done! I thought this was a couples thing…”

Yeonjun stood behind Y/N, hands on his shoulders, as he looked at all the progress Y/N had made. Colours and figures and hidden meanings already spanned two-thirds of the wall-length canvas. All Yeonjun could do was stare in awe.

Everything Y/N did sent Yeonjun spiralling in amazement, however, when he could see Y/N speak in a way he could never put together in words with no more than shitty watercolours and a brush that was a single-use away from shrivelling up in his beautiful hands; those were always the moments where Yeonjun finds himself tripping and falling in the love that led his stolen glances in the first place.

Y/N tried his best to shy away from the kisses Yeonjun pressed to his ear and down his neck, but he couldn’t help but lean into every single one of them.

“You mean a ‘collaborative project’...?” The words plastered on the information booklet Y/N’s teacher slid over to him one afternoon before class still rang crystal clear in his memory.

Turns out Yeonjun didn’t fully read the brief before jumping at the opportunity to spend yet another sunset with Y/N at this school. This would be the first time, however, that they didn’t need to slip quietly through hallways with held hands or run away from the janitors who always caught them combing through old yearbooks in the photography classroom. Oddly enough, the only time they ever wanted to be at school was after-hours; whenever Yeonjun would grab Y/N by his paint-stained hands and pull him down corridors and secret linked passages through classrooms until the lights shut off above them and the sun set below the field that’s holding way too few of their weekend naps on picnic blankets.

“When you say it like that, it sounds less fun.” Yeonjun frowned and turned Y/N around to make sure he could see the sullen and disappointed shine in his eyes.

“Babe…” Y/N whined as soon as he caught a shimmer of the pout Yeonjun plastered on his lips. The way the world ‘babe’ singed the ends of Y/N’s tongue, dripped from his lips in a sweetness that will never fade from his memory, Y/N could never get enough of it. “You know I had to finish as much as I could before we’d find every way possible to not finish this.” Y/N would always beckon the memories of Yeonjun pulling him away from all his plans and obligations, greet them with a smile as they took him over and left him in the daze that always clouded his mind whenever Yeonjun’s hands settled in just the right places.

Whether it be Yeonjun putting flowers in Y/N’s hair and tucking golden daisies behind his ear, bringing Y/N’s face away from the screen with a tip of his chin before colliding their worlds, or turning study sessions inside out as Yeonjun took Y/N down on his living room couch and making the room spin before the flashcards could even hit the floor. They always found a way to make actual work the most difficult thing in the world they’re creating together.

“In this space, we are mere colleagues, Junnie, and nothing else.” Y/N struggled to continue, his words stumbling timidly from his tongue when Yeonjun’s hands settled around his neck. With the way Yeonjun’s nickname - the one that made Yeonjun crumble under the melody of Y/N’s voice - quivered as Y/N let it out, Yeonjun knew that Y/N was trying to convince nobody but himself.

“Whatever you say, baby…” Yeonjun leaned in and kissed Y/N’s cheeks before turning Y/N around by the shoulders and letting his touch settle there.

Even under Yeonjun’s hands, fighting not to collapse like the stars that always did just that between their bodies, Y/N still attempted to raise himself up onto his toes, determined to paint over the blank edge of the canvas as it teased and taunted the edge of his brushes.

“Here, Y/N. Let me help you.” Yeonjun fastened his hands around Y/N’s waist, and let a chuckle escape from him as he could already feel Y/N squirm and stir in Yeonjun’s attempt to hold him steady. Y/N was trying his best to stay strong, to finish something, anything, even with the presence of Yeonjun hovering and lingering on him like a daydream he never wants to let go of.

“No! This is against my rights and freedoms! I will bring my attorney into this!” Y/N yelped as he struggled against Yeonjun’s hands on his hips, the feeling of his fingertips teasing at the hem of his sweater with the invisible ink that traced lines on Y/N’s skin over and over again. They only ever showed in the morning light, the blues of the dawn sweet on the tips of their tongues as it melted from their lips and left colours on their sheets and walls and forest paths that only they could see.

Yeonjun snickered with a smirk, letting his pointed gaze fall to where Y/N’s hands pried hopelessly and feebly at his hands. “Bitch- what attorney!? You can barely win an argument without needing three days to think of a comeback!” He only gripped Y/N tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of his head before reaching out to take YN’s brush from between his fingers. “This is a job for big spoons only, so let me help you reach it!”

Yeonjun’s claim made Y/N still under the sunset trickling through the windows, nothing stirring but a snap movement of his wrist to keep his drying paintbrush from Yeonjun’s reach. Pursing his lips and turning around to put Yeonjun under his suspicious glare, Y/N instantly began to poke holes in Yeonjun’s words thinking about the night prior.

Burying himself between Y/N’s arms, taking the place of his history textbook under his hands and pulling Y/N in and bringing his arms around his waist to cast aside the hours they vowed on a rushed walk to first period to spend studying. Yeonjun pressing his back up to Y/N’s chest with an eager and gleeful smile, tying their fingers together and letting shrieks and chuckles splatter onto the walls of Y/N’s room, their safe haven being drawn around them in curtains of gilded light.

That didn’t really sound like Yeonjun being the big spoon…

“Well then, based on last night, that means I can do this all by myself.” Y/N reluctantly brushed off the warmth that swelled in his chest as he recalled the way Yeonjun fell asleep so quickly in his arms to let the shine of his smug smile burn through. And with Yeonjun’s frantic, wide-eyed gaze flooding the proud shimmer that was there mere seconds ago, Y/N’s grin only grew even wider.

“How dare you!? That was an accident and you know that!” Yeonjun, absolutely mortified as he remembered that night too clearly for his own good, nudged Y/N’s chest with an accusing finger - nose scrunched up, pout deep and unrelenting. He was scrambling now, thinking of some way to turn this around, but he fell on nothing but hollow excuses for what he did.

He was a traitor to himself, throwing away his pledge to big-spoonery in a moment of weakness.

“Yeah, an accident… You fell into my arms by ‘accident’-” Y/N relished in Yeonjun’s stammering, tying himself up in the tangles of words that Yeonjun was desperately trying to put together.

“Yes! Exactly! Sheer coincidence and nothing more.” Yeonjun tried to find something to work with as he shook Y/N by his shoulders and cringed under the light of Y/N’s radiant laughter. He drew his arms back to cross them and turned his head away from the feigned innocence in Y/N’s cocky, playful stare. Even as Yeonjun squeezed his eyes shut, Y/N’s delicate touch on Yeonjun’s chin brought him right back to where the shine between their eyes left them. “I vow to never let that happen again!”

“If you say so…” Shrugging, Y/N stroked Yeonjun’s shoulders in mock sympathy, letting another laugh out when Yeonjun relented and gave in to the warmth of Y/N’s embrace, leaning into him. It was never difficult for Yeonjun to let himself fall; the landing below always looked so safe. Although in instances like these - where Y/N’s sly retorts and quick wits always left him on the fringes and ropes of the arguments they’d always manage to spin out of delirium and ivory sunlight - Yeonjun wished that it wasn’t so easy.

Y/N turned around to reach back up to the top of the canvas, only to have its blank spot inches from his reach yet again. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken too soon before thinking that reaching for it again would change anything. He dropped back down with all the triumphant feelings swelling in his chest fading away as soon as he could feel them, and scratched the back of his neck with a breath sheepishly leaking from his pursed lips. He didn’t want to admit defeat and stand in the light of Yeonjun’s knowing smile, but he needed to bite back the pride Yeonjun’s stammering stoked in him and ask him for help.

Yeonjun, hearing Y/N’s idling sighs, turned his head to see the drop in Y/N’s and stepped up to him.

“Everything okay there, baby…?” By the pout that awkwardly fumbled along Y/N’s lips, he already knew what Y/N was going to ask.

“I- uhm…” Y/N’s voice fell and settled into the splatters of paint that adorned the floor, his pout deepening, eyes lowering as he fidgeted with his hands. The cheeky grin that he could practically feel blooming on Yeonjun’s face was already too much to bear. “I need your help…”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. He wanted to let his moment sink in. There was nothing cuter than the way Y/N’s eyes shone up at him just like this, taking in all the setting sunlight before it could go away.

“Sorry…? I’m afraid I can’t hear you-”

“I require your assistance, my love!” Y/N whined and stomped the ground, realizing too late that he wasn’t doing himself any service with the frown he kept on his face. He knew how adorable Yeonjun found all the times Y/N got annoyed at him, and caught Yeonjun fighting the urge to reach out and pinch at Y/N’s flushed cheeks. Y/N’s stumble back was cut short when Yeonjun strode up and touched their foreheads together, a hand curling gently around the back of Y/N’s neck.

“The magic words…?” Yeonjun’s voice was a low, melodic murmur as it scratched against Y/N’s lips, leaving them a hair’s breadth apart, two atmospheres waiting to collide and ignite, turn mornings into the colour of sunsets in a flash of Yeonjun’s magnetic smile. He guided Y/N backward until his back met the coloured canvas, his other hand threading between Y/N’s paint-stained fingers to take the paintbrush from him in one smooth, seamless movement.

“Pretty please-”

Y/N’s words were severed as he caught notice of a blur of movement from Yeonjun’s hand flashing in front of him. He didn’t notice what Yeonjun did until he felt something heavy begin to drip from the tip of his nose and saw the paintbrush dangling between Yeonjun’s fingers. It still held the mixture of pink and orange paint he was using on the canvas he was pressed up against.

The moment Y/N could finally find the strength to piece his words back together, Yeonjun beat him to it. His eyes claimed a coy, devilish sparkle and his words stung with this sarcastic lilt.

“Pink really is your colour, huh…?” Yeonjun leaned back to admire his work and the scowl that was beginning to flourish on Y/N’s face. He was preparing to flick a little bit more paint on Y/N’s flushed cheeks, but his flinch away from Y/N was a little too slow as he found his face in Y/N’s grasp, his cheeks squished between his paint-stained hands. “YOU-”

Yeonjun’s silent gasp was deafening as he could already feel all the paint smeared all over his cheeks as Y/N lowered his hands with narrowed eyes.

“This means war, Choi Yeonjun.” Y/N’s voice settled once more, pushing himself away from the canvas and keeping space from Yeonjun - he could see him already scrambling over to one of the classroom’s large tables to prepare another strike of paint. He armed himself with a couple of his spare brushes, dipping them in as much of his acrylic paints as he could find. He wasn’t going to pull any punches. Not this time. “WAR! You hear me!?”

Yeonjun couldn’t stop a bright smile from growing on his lips, and he could feel the thin layer of paint on his flushed cheeks already begin to crack from the pulled corners of his determined grin. He and Y/N were stuffed into the hardest year of school they’ve ever had to endure, shoved into places and classes and fake interests like circles into square holes just to appease the art schools that might take them somewhere. They’ve scrawled on as many applications as they could, and scrambled under the moonlight to finish their portfolios. They shared many of those stressful, restless nights together.

Being able to throw all of that away and let it burn up in the amber lights hanging over them was such a nice feeling. And Yeonjun had nobody to thank for this weightlessness in his chest but Y/N.

Tightening his grip on his brushes, the last thing Yeonjun could think about was their half-finished canvas. His canvas-to-be was standing right in front of him with an eager smile on his lips, paintbrush in hand as he matched Yeonjun’s stance from behind a table of his own.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you, Y/N…”

“Do your worst…”

Everything hung still between the Y/N and Yeonjun, who stood on other ends of the room they reduced to a paint-scarred battleground. Nothing stirred, not even a waver between their stare could be felt as all the dust off old easels and frames and nearly broken pots at both of their colour-stained hands.

Mischievous smiles were plastered on their faces, but they didn’t dare to make a sound and shatter the focus that wove the lights together; they threatened to shatter with every moment they hit each other and made their marks and every time they didn’t. They left half the paint Y/N dragged in to heave their final breaths of colour on the ground, and held nothing in their hands but ruined paint brushes - not even a smattering of remorse on them or their near misses of black paint on the canvas Y/N worked away at for hours until Yeonjun spun him off track and declared war.

“Victory will be mine!” Yeonjun yelped as he leapt over tables and toward Y/N, brush in hand that was dripping with the paint blemishing Y/N’s skin and tied up in his hair. A smile was in full bloom on his lips.

Y/N tried to take another step back, but he was met with a wall of old frames keeping him from escaping. His feeble attempts to weave out of range were stopped by Yeonjun’s gentle shoves backward and his teasing nudges against Y/N’s sides keeping him in place. Paint streaked his neck, his cheek, his jaw - all sticking to him like honey - but as Yeonjun held Y/N by the collar and brought him closer, spinning them around tunil his back met the mural, he couldn’t help but let his giggles fly free. He always used to take Yeonjun’s threats with mocking laughter, then kiss them goodbye as he threw them to the side like all of his other whines and declarations.

Maybe he should take his words with a little more than the grains of sand that are probably still holding their footprints by the coastline. The hand holding Y/N against the mural - the true victim of this massacre - was proof enough. With one last struggle against Yeonjun’s grip, feeling it loosen a little but not enough, Y/N felt all of his strength unwind under the light of Yeonjun’s tired smile and breathless laughter. He relented, a reluctant admission of defeat under the brush Yeonjun kept teasingly close to where he already painted over Y/N’s jaw.

“Gotcha…” Yeonjun tapped Y/N’s nose with his brush with a cheeky smile, a fleck of pink paint to seal his victory. Heavy breaths ran dry on their tongues, and their marbled scars - pinks, reds, oranges, blues and all the colours in between - glimmering under the shine of the sunset spilling through the windows.

“Fine… you win…” Y/N whined and a silence soon overtook them, their heavy breaths filling all the spaces in the room that the silhouettes of their shrieks didn’t already take up. Yeonjun now had Y/N’s waist in his hand, brushes cast aside as his touch moved up, the wet paint on his hands following all the curves and edges of Y/N’s hips and waist, diving beneath Y/N’s sweatshirt in a painfully slow fall.

“Of course I did.” Yeonjun leaned back to admire how all the colours mixed and interlaced on Y/N’s skin and how the sunlight in Y/N’s eyes were still the only thing his eyes kept going back to. It was the shimmer in his smile and the air ripped from his chest as he tried to let a breath trickle out into the closing space between them. This Y/N was so beautiful, smatterings of paint on him like streaks of multicoloured moonlight and rainbow stars in the endless night of his flushed cheeks. “I love you…”

There were no thoughts weighing down their conversations or cutting their time short, no wasted time dimming the shimmers in their smile or leaving them to wither under the ivory light of computer screens, no worries breaking the songs of their laughter they could still feel circling the room, soaring above them.

“I love you too.”

There was nothing between them, the marigolds blooming on the edge of the horizon barely had room to bloom.

There was nothing in their way.

Everything, from the colour in their hands to the words that collapsed on their tongues to the breath that trembled in the closing space between. It was all gone, reduced to nothing the moment they entwined their lips. They were stripped bare of all the things that weighed them down, all the things they never noticed bound them to the ground until Yeonjun would pull Y/N in by the collar of his sweater and set them free.

All hesitation melted from where it built up on their shoulders, wherever Y/N’s touch would settle as they fell further into each other’s gravity. Yeonjun took Y/N by the shoulders, colour stained fingertips painting tapestries against his skin and smudging the hair he tangled up in his fingers. They brought each other close, even closer, until they could feel the beats of their hearts burn straight through them and reduce the sunlight that sweetened the hums running between their tongues and teeth to ashes that felt like pure bliss.

All their feeling, every sense was spun into the shimmers of every smile shone in the hallway, of all their starlit nights dreaming of cruising down the interstate at speeds that would make all their worries slip out of their fingers. They didn’t need to dream, as they could find a highway anywhere they dared to trip on folds of the night’s blue velvet, and take their doubts’ places in their hands as they tied theirs together.

There was no safer place to be than in Y/N’s hands, his touch sailing on the streaks of colour along Yeonjun’s waist and up his chest. Everything they could ever want was right here, everything they needed was right in front of them - in the universe they held in their eyes, and with the stars Yenojun would count in Y/N’s every night before he fell asleep, pulled into their orbit.

The rhythm of gold and honey between their lips stained the blank canvas between their lips with the colours of all their memories - the one’s they share in the colours that lined Yeonjun’s hands, and the ones they still have yet to make in all the colours strewn around them.

All the thoughts they lost to their brave touches came rushing back as they pulled back to take a breath. Y/N tripped over himself as he tried to gather the air that their tangled tongues pulled right out of him, the pair of intertwined hands pinned to the canvas above his head only beckoned his silence. Yeonjun wanted to shuffle in the space Y/N left for him with a sly remark about how he can still take Y/N’s breath away, but he wasn’t much better, as his words tumbled out as wisps of shrivelled air.

He forgot how well Y/N could do the same thing, sweep him off his feet and leave him reeling in ways he could never understand.

“So… About this mural, huh?” Yeonjun could finally muster, looking up from where the light of Y/N’s eyes pulled him in even closer to see the shadows of violet and blue they left on the canvas. Splatters of orange and pink lingered in areas on the wall they didn’t know they could reach, and the composition was absolutely destroyed.

Any rhyme or reason Y/N spent the hours trying to meticulously piece together before Yeonjun came in and knocked it over like a house of cards was completely gone. It was an incoherent mess of colour, wisps of the mixed colours from their hands outlining everywhere they took their kiss, everywhere Yeonjun took Y/N’s hands and everywhere Y/N brought Yeonjun to when their lips fit together just right.

Y/N stepped back, still in Yeonjun’s arms, to turn around and look at the mess they created. He wanted to be surprised, disappointed, even a little upset or scared that the work he was asked to do was thrown away for a different chase of colour. But he wasn’t, this sense of indifference washed over him and the flat voice that left him. Of course he and Yeonjun would do this, he wasn’t even shocked that - not only did they get nothing done - but they literally undid work. “Ah yes, this giant and super important school funded initiative…”

“I think it looks great.” Yeonjun rested his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, tilting his head to get a ‘better’ angle of the massacred canvas.

“I agree… If I turn my head, close my eyes a little bit, and look the other way. Then sure.” Y/N looked at Yeonjun and nodded with a cynical smile, only to be pulled into an embrace to share Yeonjun’s laughter. Pulling away to truly get a look at the colours staining their clothes and skin and scattered in their hair, Y/N’s mouth fell open in awe of the portraits they painted on each other. “We literally painted each other more than the canvas.”

“Oh wow, you’re right…” Yeonjun checked himself and the streaks of colour along his skin, and then toward the canvas, the only proof of their work being the scars of dark, mismatched paint strewn about all of Y/N’s efforts. “Maybe we should get to it and pretend that all this is just an artistic statement.” They were both trying to find something to make out of it, but they were both at a loss. “A statement to never leave us alone with anything that requires finishing.”

“I take pride in that, actually.” Y/N didn’t care if he was in denial at this point, shrugging his shoulders. What mattered was that he was in denial with Yeonjun, staring at a malformed, decomposed masterpiece. Staring at where all the colours collided in all the wrong ways with nothing but a smile on his face as he leaned into Yeonjun’s touch, it simply reaffirmed that they were able to spin even the most radiant and beautiful old from the palest moonlight.

“And I take pride in you…” Yeonjun turned Y/N around and held his paint-stained cheeks in his hands, struggling to kiss somewhere on his face that didn’t have paint.

“Aw, Junnie…” Y/N caressed Yeonjun’s arms and held his hands before thinking about how close it is until midnight, their deadline to finish the mural. “Let’s get this done and make all this bullshittery look like the most non-accidental accident ever.” With a silent nod of agreement, they both rushed to the nearest palette they could find, and picked up a few brushes they knew were strewn about the ground somewhere.

“Wait-” before they could get anything started, however, Yeonjun caught Y/N by the wrist and pressed a gentle, but rich and sweet kiss to Y/N’s lips, a smile moulding the sparks on the tips of their tongues as he felt Y/N rise on his tip-toes to meet him. “There, I’m satisfied now.”

Y/N eyed Yeonjun suspiciously before picking up his palette again, lifting an eyebrow with a smirk. He was already rushing to blend in what he had with what Yeonjun and Y/N did to violate his painting, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Yeonjun. He didn’t want to.

He never wants to.

“No, you’re not.”

“No… I’m not.”

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