#‘choir never complete’ = the originals slowly getting picked off STARTING WITH HER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

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Killer Queen

Hello Tumblr buddies!

Here is the next part to Killer Queen. It’s like two hours earlier than normal because I have gospel choir this evening so I wanted to get it posted before then so I have like 12 minutes to do this and get on zoom!

Hope you all enjoy. Thank you as always for all the lovely love and comments!

Suze xx

“The beauty of love lies in giving, not in getting.”

Taron was watching every person who left the backstage area and after twenty-five minutes had yet to see Robyn walk through and as he sat holding the flowers, he could feel his heart beating a little faster with anticipation.

Then he saw her as the curtain opened for her so she could walk out into the hall. He grinned as her hair was still in a curly mess and her make-up from the show on but she was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a black tank top and his heart skipped a beat and he found it so unbelievably strange that it was this Robyn that caused his heart to skip a beat and not the sexy one she portrayed on stage as Mimi. She walked straight over to her parents and gave them both a big hug and started a conversation with them and he sat for about a minute before he couldn’t wait any longer to see her and he stood up with his flowers a little in front of his face and made his way down the aisle.

He could hear her talking about the stage construction to her dad and caught the little glance she gave him but when she looked away, Taron realised she hadn’t recognised him.

Taking matters into his own hands, he spoke up. “So, this is what you get up to during your shows then, chicken, huh?”

He watched as Robyn’s head turned back to him again and he moved the flowers from his face and the beautiful smile he expected from her was so much more and her whole face lit up when she realised he was standing there about three meters from him.

“Taron!”

Robyn dropped her bag on the floor beside her parents and took to run towards him and threw herself into his arms, Taron laughing out loud. He had seen her take to a run and quickly put the bunch of flowers he had for her on a chair beside him and he caught her with two arms as she practically launched herself at him, his hat falling from his head to the ground and he was glad he managed to keep his balance of his body as she hugged him tight, his arms wrapping around her just as tight.

“Hello chicken.” He laughed as she really gave his body a tight squeeze.

Robyn was in complete disbelief when she saw the person lower the flowers and could see and hear it was Taron and without even questioning it or thinking twice, she dropped her bag to the floor and ran to him, almost jumping into his arms and hugging him so tight against her, feeling him hug her back just as hard. She buried her head into neck and breathed in his scent and exhaled happily. It was Taron and he was here in Kilcreen and at her show and her wonderfully warm blanket was hugging her just as close as she was hugging him and it was felt wonderful to be back in his strong muscular arms that lifted her very lightly off her feet for a quick second before putting her back down, snuggling right into her, his nose grazing her neck as he found his usual cosy spot, his hands wrapping right around her waist. She automatically lifted her right hand to the nape of his neck and up into his hair but her hand stopped and stalled when she didn’t feel his hair run through her fingers as it always did but instead, she was met with sharp short strands. She immediately pulled out of the hug and looked at him and her mouth dropped a little.

“Surprise!” He grinned and chuckled as Robyn lifted her hands to his head and ran her fingers over his very short hair.

“Taron, your hair.” She said with some surprise and melancholy in her voice.

“Well somebody thought it would be fun to dye it green.” He replied. “I had to do something.”

“But it was just the tips. Not all of your hair.” Robyn could still scratch his head and she did so, seeing Taron immediately closing his eyes as she did but he had not enough hair for her to run her hands through, so gently gave his scalp another long scratch. She smiled as she saw he still had his eyes closed once even after she had grazed his head with her finger tips and with his shorter hair, she could see the scar on his forehead more clearly but also every stunning feature of his handsome face too. She loved running her hands through his hair, mostly because she knew how much Taron liked it but seeing that Taron still easily relaxed into her hands on her head, she tilted her head to take in his full face and quickly came to a very positive conclusion. “I like it.”

Taron opened one eye. “What?”

“I like it. It really suits you.” Robyn grinned. “I have never seen it this short before. Well not in person anyway.”

“This is not the reaction I was expecting.” Taron’s eyes closed again as Robyn dragged her nails down his whole head and back up once more. “God, I have missed that.” He whispered almost hoarsely, moving his head down towards his chest as her index fingers rubbed the nape of his neck in those soothing circles he adored so much.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him as she took her hands away, knowing her parents were watching their interaction very closely. “You are supposed to be in New York.”

“That is why I said surprise Robyn. I came a day earlier to see the musical, which by the way…” He picked up the flowers from the chair. “These are for you. Congratulations.” Taron leaned in and gently kissed her right cheek. “You were phenomenal.” He gave her the flowers. “Killed it.” He grinned.

Robyn took the flowers from him and closed her eyes as he kissed her cheek. She then looked to the exquisite bunch of yellow, pink and red roses. “Wow Taron. These are beautiful and thank you but how are you here?”

Taron chuckled. “Always about the details chicken.”

“Always so spill.”

“I think this is where we will say goodnight.” Lizzie walked over and gave Taron a large smile. She had never seen her daughter run and jump into the arms of a man before and while it made her laugh, she was so happy for Robyn and couldn’t be more pleased for her and Taron’s special plan for the evening. “Your dad and I are going to head home.”

“Oh, but I didn’t even get to talk to you properly.” Robyn accepted her mams hug.

“Taron flew here a day earlier to come and see you in your show, who do you really want to spent time with? Your parents who you see nearly every day or a man who stepped off a plane from America to come here to see you.”

Robyn nodded against her mother. “Thanks for coming.”

After she had given her dad a hug and Taron said goodnight to her parents, Robyn turned to look at him, shaking her head. “Full of surprises Mr. Egerton.”

“I have to give you a run for your money.”

Robyn placed her flowers on the chair and took a step closer to him. “Can I have a proper squishy hug now that my parents aren’t watching?” She asked him a little shyly.

“You had better get over here.” Taron opened his arms and this time Robyn walked into the hug, his arms going around her waist holding her tight against him. He immediately dipped his head into her neck and sighed happily. “My spot.”

“Sorry Taron?”

“Nothing.” He replied.

Robyn rubbed his back with her two hands before finding the nape of his neck and although she knew it would take a while to get used to his new haircut, which she actually did love, the tight cut just highlighting his stunning facial features more, she got the same sigh and reaction from him that she always got when she stroked the base of his neck. It was a hug she had craved earlier mid-way through the show and now as she hugged Taron tight, she allowed herself to take in his wonderful body heat and immediately felt comforted after the earlier drama by being in his arms. She moved her hands from his neck and rubbed his back up and down slowly, feeling him take a long breathe and nestle a little tighter into her. She didn’t even think about her action before she did it, and just placed the light kiss against his jaw before laying her head under his chin, Taron automatically moving his head so she could fit into his body. She eyes closed and she sighed happily, almost feeling the smile on Taron’s face as he wrapped her up securely.

“How are you even here?” She asked him. “And I know you are here and it’s obvious but how Taron?”

“Remember that phone call on St Patrick’s Day?”

“Yeah, the change in your tour.”

“Well it had originally included today but I explained to Matthew that I had planned to surprise you today.”

“Taron…”

He could hear the warning tone in her voice so quickly hurried on his story. “Matthew was quite happy to move some things around Robyn with Lyndsey’s help. He knows how important this trip to see you was and easily moved some interviews to Sunday, just like I told you it had changed. It just means the official tour starts a day earlier and I am on flight to Japan straight after the radio interviews on Sunday but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I can’t even describe how much I needed to be here for you and surprise you and my God Robyn you are insane on stage. It’s so much more in person then on DVD. You were so incredible and I didn’t see Robyn up there, but Mimi.”

Robyn smiled into his chest. “Thanks Taron. Mimi is a big change from Robyn.”

Taron moved his chin away from her head so he could look at her. “I am not going to lie. I liked it a lot. Mimi is quite free and can I say sexy?”

Robyn saw the glint in his eyes as they darkened. “You can definitely say it and sure I might as well admit, it is very easy to feel it in those hot pants and fishnets.”

Taron laughed. “See hot pants. Very comfortable!”

Robyn laughed hard at his words. “I hated the costumes at first but I have definitely grown to love them, a lot. They help me with the character.”

Taron didn’t answer her but just nodded and smiled. He was worried what his mouth would say without his brain thinking straight at that moment as he thought about the purple shorts, so decided it was best to say nothing.

“You really came back from New York this morning and straight to Dublin?”

“Yeah chicken I did. I have had this planned for a while.”

“My mam has been in on this hasn’t she?”

“Yep.”

Robyn looked to Taron, his face in a wide grin and something suddenly clicked with her. “You were the one who moved my penguin.”

“Sure was chicken.” He laughed.

“You snooped in my old bedroom.” She said.

“Yep. Lots of things to snoop in there but not many places to hide.” He watched as Robyn’s face went from confused to eyes wide open. “Found your lipstick then.” He said as he gently touched her still red stained lips with an index finger.

“You were there in my room? When I was looking for my lipstick!” She cried. “Where on earth were you?”

“Down the side of your bed. Like I said, lots of places to snoop, not many places to hide. I literally rolled off the bed and down the side onto the floor.”

“How did I not see you?”

“You were too concerned with the lipstick. I don’t even know how I managed to hide in time. I just rolled over as you opened the door.”

Robyn grinned. “I can’t believe you were there the whole time and my mother in on it too.”

“She was worried you were going to catch me out.”

“Not on a show day. Only one thing on my mind.”

“That’s what Lizzie said.” Taron smiled and removed his hands from her waist when he realised it was still on the floor so he picked it up and put it back on his head.

“I like this hat.” Robyn reached up to fix it so it sat better on his head. “I like this look. I really like the hair Taron.” She watched his face turn doubtful. “No, I really do. I say this constantly to you, but it suits you. Is it for your movie?”

“Yeah. Trying out some looks but mostly because my hair was green.”

Robyn laughed and happily sighed. “I still can’t believe you are here.”

“I am right here Robyn and at the moment there is nowhere else I would rather be.”

“Night Robyn!”

Both looked to the hall doors to see Jane waving their way and they waved back.

“I like your friend Jane.” Taron said to her. “She is a really nice person.”

Robyn nodded agreeing. “Yes, she is and a good friend.” She turned to Taron. “So maybe we should head back to mine then. I know I am in desperate need of a shower and to wash my hair.”

“I really like all these curls.” He said, his hands going straight into her hair. “Really curly.”

“Takes bloody ages to put in but I need to wash it out.”

“I don’t suppose you want this look for tomorrow for work.”

Robyn looked to him. “I have the day off tomorrow.” She said as she started to walk away from him to pick up her bag, picking up her bunch of flowers as she moved.

“What?” Taron followed her.

“Yep no work tomorrow. The show is hard on my voice and I decided I would take Friday off just to spend the time at home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah seriously. I had actually planned to surprise you at the airport tomorrow when you arrived in Dublin but you are already here so I don’t have to do that.” Taron had the biggest grin on his face and she tilted her head as she stared at him. “What is that grin for?”

“I get a whole day with you tomorrow.” He replied. “You don’t have to go to work. I wasn’t expecting that at all!”

Robyn smiled. “No I don’t and yes you do. So, shall we head back to mine? We are walking if that is ok. No point in driving when I can walk.”

“That is fine by me.”

Taron walked with Robyn out of the hall still with the smile on his face. His plan for Robyn had just fallen completely into place and instead of her having to go to work, he could now take full advantage of the picnic basket Lizzie had set up for him and he knew Robyn was going to love every bit of it.

As they walked back to her house, Taron had never seen Robyn so chatty and giddy, one point turning around so she was walking backwards in front of him, her words coming a mile a minute as she spoke excitedly about the musical that evening and he just smiled at her nodding or throwing in one word answer her way, barely able to get more than two in at a time. He actually thought his face was going to hurt him tomorrow he was grinning so much and as she turned back to walk beside him, he linked his arm with hers, trying to slow her walk down, knowing he couldn’t do a thing about her chit chat and enthusiasm.

“I swear Taron, that fire man’s pole will either kill me or cure me by the end of this show. Nearly slipped off it last night.”

Taron chuckled. “I heard you tell your mam that when I was hiding. You really think I wouldn’t let you live it down if I found out?” He asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“Not with the way you glided down it this evening chicken. Not at all.”

Robyn pushed into him a little making their straight walk go a little sideways but Taron guided them straight again. “So, tell me about your travels. How were the interviews in New York?” They always tried to text or call each other at the end of the day and Robyn had yet to catch up with him about his trek to New York.

“Good. Really good. You were brought up.”

“Naturally.”

“But once that tough subject was tackled, it was the normal PR stuff, questions about the movie and shooting in New York and that. Few awkward moments as always when the chemistry with the interviewer isn’t there or they don’t seem to be prepared. During one interview Matthew and I just started to ask each other questions at one point just to pass the time, the guy sitting opposite us so dreadful but it was good Robyn. I am really looking forward to next week, especially the Asian part of the tour.”

“Only because you want more fried chicken.” Robyn said to him as they started to walk down the dark road to her house.

Taron laughed. “Not gonna lie, I am very much looking forward to that. It’s so bloody good but I know the tour is going to be a good one. Matthew and I are finally glad to be promoting the movie. I think back in September, he thought the movie wasn’t going to be finished so is relieved to have it out there ready for everyone to see.”

“I am looking forward to seeing it.”

“I think you will like it.”

“Well I liked the sneak peek I got and am really happy to hear that you are excited for the tour. I hate how hard it will be to keep in contact with you though. You are going to be ridiculously busy and travelling over so many time zones.”

“Just leave me a message Robyn and I will always ring you back as soon as I can. It is only for three weeks and then at the end of the three weeks we get to see each other again.”

Robyn nodded agreeing. “It’s going to be a long three weeks.”

Taron moved his arm so he could swing it around her shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me that. I usually wake up not sure where I am most of the time and Lyndsey fills me full of coffee to keep me going.” Taron felt Robyn slouch a little under his arm. “Just the way it…”

“Is. Yeah I know.”

“But you do get a full day extra with me tomorrow before all the madness starts.” He added.

“Yes, I do and if I haven’t said it already by the way, thanks for the surprise. It was the best.”

“You are more than welcome.”

They walked up her drive way and Robyn gave her flowers to Taron so she could route out her key from her bag. With a good dig down the bottom, she pulled out her set of keys and on finding the one she needed for her front door, slotted it in the lock and opened the door.

Taron stood back a little and let Robyn walk into her home, his whole body a little tense with the apprehension for when she took in the next part of her surprise. He smiled a little and shook his head as Robyn was completely distracted by turning off her alarm and hadn’t even looked into her home yet to see the glow of the fairy lights in the dark of her sitting room. Lizzie had told Taron that she would nip over to Robyn’s and turn on all the fairy lights for him so her daughter would be completely taken aback but his normal very attentive Robyn was still floating on cloud nine and on a high from performing and had yet to notice the tent in the middle of her open plan living room.

“Hey Robyn, look up.”

He rolled his eyes as she looked at him with a blank face. “Sorry?”

He stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around. “Look up.” He repeated and waited for about three seconds before he heard the gasp from her.

“What… How... Is that… Taron! A tent!”

Taron caught another glimpse of a very animated Robyn and he couldn’t help but laugh as she dropped her bag on the floor, abandoned the half turned off alarm and walked over to the tent he had made her. He quickly finished punching in the code for her alarm and closed the front door behind him, picked up her bag and left it on the breakfast bar with her flowers before following her over to the tent, watching as she gently touched the opened door of the tent. She turned to give him a wide grin and ducked inside.

“Oh my God! This is fucking amazing!”

Taron stood at the opening to the tent and could only smile as he watched Robyn turn in circle inside the sheets, looking up, her face wide with glee as she took in all the lights. He took a step further in and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, still grinning as Robyn ducked a little so she could walk around the whole tent, passing him by and ending back up in the middle. She then looked down and she started to giggle and he could only laugh with her.

“You made me a tent.” She said quietly her laughter suddenly stopping, looking to Taron as he stood a little inside the home-made tent. “And covered it in fairy lights.”

Without another word, Robyn took two long strides over to Taron and enveloped him in a hug feeling unbelievably overwhelmed by what the man who came to surprise her had created in her sitting room and not only overwhelmed by it all but also very emotional and she tried so hard to keep herself from crying with happiness a little but she was losing the battle very quickly and tears formed in the corner of her eyes and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep them at bay but one escaped and slowly rolled down her cheek. No one had ever done something so kind for her before. No one had even thought about giving her such a surprise and she was completely stunned with what Taron had done for her, astounded by his breath-taking and generous gesture.

“Robyn?” Taron was a little concerned with the firm hug that Robyn was giving him. “Darling are you ok?”

“Just need a minute.”

“Take as long as you want.” Taron placed one of his hands on the back of her head, her hair a mass of curls under his hand and moved his head to place a kiss on her temple before he returned her wonderfully snug hug. He would never tire of hugging Robyn and gently started to rock her a little from side to side, glad to hear a little laugh from her as he did so. “The minute is at least two now chicken.”

Robyn lifted her head from his shoulder and avoided looking at him straight away, wiping the tear she could still feel on her right cheek.

“Are you crying? Robyn, I didn’t do this to make you cry.” He said, his voice a little concerned. “I wanted to make you smile.”

“You did.” She assured him. “They are happy tears. Taron this is so wonderful. You did this?”

“I am a master tent builder.” He said with a delightful grin. “Though your parents gave me all the supplies.”

“How long have you been in Kilcreen?” Robyn asked him as she took a step away from him, but held onto his hand so he had to walk with her.

“I got here about four? Your mam picked me up at the bus stop and I hid in your old house for a while before I could come over here and set this up for you.” Taron stayed close to her as she looked around the tent again.

“This is amazing Taron. Look at all the lights. I love it so much. Thank you Taron.” Robyn leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“It’s just a little tent. Thought we could have a sleep over inside.” His grin grew as Robyn’s did. “You sure they are happy tears? I don’t think I have seen you with happy tears before. Actually, I don’t think I have seen this overly emotional side to you before.”

Robyn nudged him a little. “You are seeing a lot of new things today. Shorts shorts, curly hair and happy tears.”

“And I love them all. So, you up for a sleep over tonight?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Taron.”

“You said that already.”

“I just can’t say anything else. This is just so beautiful.”

Taron wrapped his arms around her shoulders, so her back was against his chest and rested his chin on her right shoulder, smiling as she lifted her right hand to cheek. He was so glad she loved the tent, though he didn’t doubt for a second that she would.

“Thanks rocketman.” Robyn said again, still in awe of what he had pulled together for her. “I can’t wait to just lay down in here but I really need a shower.”

“Before you go and shower, I want to show you some things. Come and sit for a second.”

Once they had taken their jackets off, leaving them on the couch along with Taron’s hat, they sat opposite each other in the middle of the tent, Robyn only realising he had pulled cwtch and her True Heart Bear from her bed as she sat down.

“Do you think cwtch would let us have a sleep over and not join us?” Smirked Taron as he sat crossed legged in front of the picnic basket, Robyn opposite him, pulling cwtch over too.

“No probably not. What you got in there?” She asked him lifting one side a little but Taron took her hand away and closed the lid with a grin. “Alright, ok more surprises.”

“First off, I don’t think I told you how proud I am of you Robyn. You absolutely shone on the stage tonight and I fully believed you were Mimi.” He saw her cheeks blush a little, even under all the make she wore. “This tent and the few surprises in here are for you and I don’t want you to say I don’t have to do these things for you alright? This is what we do for each other ok? You know what you have given me, I don’t need to remind you, even though I think about it every day and even more so now during promotion as every interviewer asks me about what happened in Florida. Matthew was right. There would be no Kingsman if it wasn’t for you and don’t look at me like that. It’s true Robyn. I know you still get flashbacks of what happened and I get them too. That’s why these little visits and surprises are so important for me to give to you, just as much as you give them to me. You gave me my life back Robyn and I know you say I don’t owe you anything, but just let me have the evening ok? Let me do something for you, to show you that I am and always will be so thankful for your friendship, love and constant support.”

Robyn reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. She couldn’t say anything to counter his words or dispute his little gesture of surprises because Robyn did love to give him little surprises too and as she was learning from being with Taron and in his company and from listening to her friends, she deserved little surprises too.

“Can we share them together?” She asked.

“Some of them yes but some are only for you.”

Robyn nodded. “Ok well I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a tiny bit excited because I am. So, thank you so much for the beautiful tent and whatever is in this picnic basket.”

“Is that your polite way to say hurry up Taron?”

“Yes, so come on rocketman!”

Taron chuckled and opened the right side of the picnic basket. “First I know how much you love a good pair of PJ bottoms so these are for you.” Taron reached in and took out a pair of ocean blue cotton pyjama bottoms and on them, pictures of dolphins. He handed them over as she held her hands out to take them and he could already see the giddiness returning to his beloved Robyn.

“Dolphin PJ’s!” Robyn exclaimed. “These are amazing! I have never had a pair of dolphin PJ’s.”

“Never?” Asked Taron stopping with his hands in the picnic basket.

“Never. I always found them hard to find but you always manage to find the most amazing things for me.”

Taron only smiled a little and reached into the basket fully. “And they go with this.” Taron handed over a pale blue t-shirt to her too.

Robyn took the t-shirt from him and frowned a little as she let the material fall open. “Taron, I know I like my PJ’s a lot baggier but this is way too big for me.” She held the t-shirt up against her.

“That is because it is mine.” Robyn lowered the blue top to look at him. “The bottoms didn’t come with a top to match but my t-shirt matches so you can have it.”

“Taron I can’t take this.”

“Keep it.”

“But Tar…”

“It’s yours and it’s blue so you get to have it and I want you to have it. I have many other t-shirts.”

“Thank you Taron. It’s perfect.” Robyn knew he wasn’t going to give in to her and folded the t-shirt and laid it on top the bottoms, watching as he reached into the basket again.

He pulled out two squishy packets. “A face mask and a hair mask and I have request for the hair mask which I will get to later.” Taron handed over the face mask to her but kept the hair mask himself. Robyn didn’t question him but put the face mask with her pyjamas. Taron then opened the left side of the basket and took a packet of miniature chocolate cupcakes out. “Something sweet we can both enjoy and I didn’t bake before you ask.”

Robyn smiled as she took the cakes. “Baking is our thing. You are not allowed to do it without me.”

“Ok now close your eyes.” Robyn completely trusted Taron, so doing as she asked, she closed her eyes. “And hold out your hands.”

Once her hands were held out, she felt him place something in her open hand and when she opened her eyes she grinned widely. “Turtles.”

“Lyndsey got them for me because I was so caught up in interviews and she also got these.” Taron took a packet of rainbow nerds from the basket too and gave them to Robyn. “She knew about the rainbow cake and thought these would be fun too.”

“You will have to get her to get us more turtles when you are in the States over the next three weeks.”

“Don’t worry I will.”

“And these rainbow nerds are amazing. The sour apple ones are yum.” She pulled open the tab on the pink packet and poured some straight into her mouth., grinning as she chewed, going for another mouthful, passing them to Taron as he held his hand out for the box. In the same way as Robyn, he lifted the packet and poured the tiny colourful sweets into his mouth, some falling from the packet. Robyn chuckled as he tried to save them, but failed miserably as they landed on the duvet he was sitting on.

“You gotta get your lips right around the hole.” Robyn said without thinking, her hands going to her mouth as she giggled deeply, knowing her whole face blushed beetroot red.

“Yeah alright, relax there.” Taron smirked. He shoved the box back towards her. “You think you are so good at it, show me.”

Robyn took the box from him. “Okie dokie.” She held the box to her lips and making sure they completely covered the little opening, quickly moved her head back and lifted the box, so the sweets poured right into her mouth, taking the packet away quickly, not spilling one. She shook the box a little at Taron, who reached over the grabbed it from her and copied her movements exactly but two little sweets slipped out past the right side of lips. He caught them with his fingers and ate them quickly.

“You didn’t see that.”

Robyn smiled at him. “See what?” She held her hand out for the box and he passed it back. She took another two mouthfuls before sealing the box closed. “Gonna be on a sugar high once that’s hits my blood but they are so good.”

Taron nodded his head agreeing, watching as Robyn added the box of Nerds to the little pile she had been making before going back to the basket.

“I am sure you have one of these already but I saw it in the airport in JFK and had to buy it for you.” Taron a little playfully, guided a green bear from the basket and Robyn fully grinned when she saw it was a little Good Luck Care Bear. “I thought it was quite apt for this week.”

Robyn stretched over and took the plush from his hands. “I don’t have a little one and it’s perfect. Thank you Taron. It’s so thoughtful of you. I know exactly where I am going to keep it.” She looked at his raised eyebrow. “On my desk in work. I have a perfect space for it.”

He didn’t give her an answer or look at her, concentrating on the basket in front of him but her answer made his heart do another one of those jumps it liked to do at times around her. “And last but not least is this.” He reached into the basket and took out a piece of pink card that looked like it was ripped but when Robyn took it from Taron, she could see that it wasn’t ripped but the edges were cut with a scissors. “It’s a card from my sisters. They wanted to wish you good luck for your show so made you this card.”

Robyn looked to Taron with wide eyes and then to the handmade card she held. On the front of the card was a hand drawn picture of some people. The girls had drawn four people on a beach and on closer inspection Robyn read the writing above each person and saw that Rosie and Mari had drawn herself and Taron along with themselves on the beach in Aber and across the top in large pink and purple letters were the words ‘Good Luck Robyn’. She opened the card and read the two-page letter inside, laughing as they asked when she was coming back to visit them with cwtch and thanking her once again for kissing Taron.

As Robyn read the writing inside the card, Taron moved around so he was sitting beside her, his knee touching her left as he sat cross legged again.

“Your sisters are so wonderful Taron. How did you even get this? You haven’t been home to Aberystwyth.”

“I have had it since the start of my promotion last week. Mam and the girls came to visit me in London for a night before I left because we wouldn’t see each other for a while and they had made this and demanded, and I mean demanded that I give it to you.” Robyn chuckled, imaging the lecture Taron had gotten from his sisters. “They also demand a picture of us holding the card so they knew I gave it to you. You mind?”

Robyn shook her head and Taron reached into his pocket to get his phone. “Oh wait. I am still half dressed as Mimi.”

“They wanted to see that too.” He chuckled. “It wasn’t as much fun trying to explain to them the story of RENT. I had to leave a good few details out.” He turned his camera to selfie mode and held it out in front of them, Robyn holding the card up with a grin and Taron took the photo. “They will be thrilled.”

“They are such sweet girls Taron. This was such a cute little thing for them to do.” She turned and knelt in front of him. “Thank you Taron. It’s all I seem to be saying lately but thank you so much for all of this. No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

“And that is why I don’t want to you question it. You do such wonderful things for me all the time, like making me tea, cooking me breakfast and giving me the best massages ever.” She reached over and lightly scratched his head, still getting used to the feel of his very short hair. “I am allowed to give something back and if a tent smothered in fairy lights and some dolphin PJ’s are part of it, then so be it.”

It was an awkward hug as Taron was still sitting with his legs crossed, but Robyn knelt up and hugged him once more. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome. Now go and have your shower but don’t put conditioner in your hair.”

“You want me to pull all my hair out with a comb when I brush my hair wet because that is what will happen if I don’t put conditioner in.”

Taron chuckled. “No, I don’t want that. I want you to use this.” Taron stretched over and picked up the hair mask from where he left it. “Except I want to be the one to use it.”

Robyn squinted at him. “You are going to have to explain that to me Taron because I haven’t a clue and that sugar rush hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“I want to use this for you.” Taron could see that Robyn’s performance high was slowly leaving her body and that tiredness from being on point for two and a half hours straight was kicking in as he took in her confused look. “I want to put the hair mask in your hair for you so when you have washed your hair, come out to me and we can use this for you tonight.”

“You want to put the mask in yourself.” Questioned Robyn.

“Yep.”

“In my hair?”

“Yep.” Repeated Taron. “Robyn just go and shower and come back to me and leave everything to me ok and stop looking at me like that. You don’t have to work tomorrow so I can throw an extra few surprises your way at the last minute.” He continued speaking when Robyn didn’t answer him. “In London last month you knew I was feeling a bit off, looked after me as you always do so now it’s my turn and I want to treat you to a hair mask that has been kindly provided to me by…” Taron looked to the mask in his hands. “Aussie staycation.” He grinned her way. “And your mam. Just go and do what you are told for a change ok? I will be waiting here in the tent for you. Bring extra towels so we don’t get hair mask everywhere.”

With a nod and no words, Robyn got to her feet and walked out of the tent and toward the bathroom, leaving Taron a little perplexed with her silence but she had done what he had asked so decided to leave the silence be. He hadn’t planned on using the hair mask for Robyn but because she didn’t have to go to work the next day, he wasn’t worried about keeping her up late, even though it was already past eleven thirty. He knew they could have a lazy morning and day tomorrow too. When Lizzie had told him on St Patrick’s Day that she loved anything to do with her hair, Taron had then asked his mam what he could do for Robyn in the same way she had given him the massage, and after Tina has teased him mercilessly about his shoulder massage, she suggested a hair mask for Robyn but Taron had to apply it to her hair and with the help of Robyn’s mam, one had been left in his basket of presents and he was very much looking forward to paying some of Robyn’s kindness back to her with what he knew she loved. If when he played with his hair was anything to go by, his little hair mask treat would be perfect for her.

He crawled over to the couch and pulled her laptop from it and sitting with his back against the couch, opened the computer up and turned it on, waiting for it to load. Once the internet had loaded on the laptop, he searched for the pizza take out from her favourites bar and as the page came up, clicked in her saved items and ordered a medium pizza for delivery. He was starving, not really eating a proper meal since breakfast in New York and he had been dozing on the plane as the meal was served and missed out but he was sure Robyn wouldn’t have had anything to eat since lunch, knowing her nerves would have taken her appetite away so would probably appreciate some food. Once paid for, he hoped the fifty-five-minute arrival time was long enough to get what he wanted done. He closed down the laptop and shuffled out of the tent, listened for the shower and once hearing it running, slipped into her bedroom.

The clothes Robyn had been wearing were thrown across the bed, on top of his suitcase which he had left on the bed and he took her clothes and folded them neatly, leaving them on her make-up table. He opened his case and frowned at the state he had thrown everything in earlier that morning. He was had a very early morning photoshoot followed by back to back interviews and just about had time to grab all this stuff before he had to check out of the hotel and get to the airport. He groaned as he pulled out his clothes, making a face as he completely regretted mixing his clean and dirty clothes up. He had packed enough to keep him going for a month but without access to a washing machine, he definitely needed to wash some things before he headed back to London on Saturday morning and was back on a long haul flight on Sunday evening and knew Robyn wouldn’t mind if he used her washing machine. Gathering what he had worn, he made his way into the laundry room and put a wash on, making sure to add some of Robyn’s fabric softener knowing it always left his clothes with a lovely fresh scent and not just because it would remind him of Robyn as he wore them during his tour.

Once back in the bedroom, he routed through his case and pulled out a pair of cosy cotton shorts and a t-shirt and quickly changed into them as he heard the water stop in the shower, left the bedroom and the door slightly open.

He replayed Robyn’s reaction to his surprise in his mind as he walked into the kitchen to get the coffee maker going, needing a hit of caffeine into his body. As he set the cup in place and popped a cappuccino pod in, he leaned against the counter, running his hands down his face, stopping at his mouth to cover a long yawn he had no control over, a little tiredness from travelling setting in. Robyn had reacted in the way he had imagined and even more emotional than he thought she would be. Robyn had changed so much since he had met her all those months ago in Florida and the woman who refused point blank to accept help, her whole body closed to him, now openly and easily showed her emotions before him and it was such a new personal supportive acceptance for the two of them to be open with each other emotionally and he was never worried to show Robyn how he was truly feeling. He had heard from a number of people what a dick Keith was and it was obvious that he was why Robyn had been so protective of herself and it did not only anger but hurt Taron when she had said no one had ever done something like what he had done for her before. He shook his head and turned to his coffee as it finished brewing. Robyn was everything to him lately and when he was asked about her in the interviews, before he had found himself frowning as he gave his rehearsed reply supplied by Lyndsey, now he smiled, his reply altered to say that Robyn was one of his best friends, he was ever so thankful for her and they were spending time together getting to know each other because they felt it was pretty important considering she had saved his life.

He dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee along with a dash of milk and once stirred, took a sip. He wanted more than anything to show Robyn that not every man on the planet was a tosspot and he thought he was on a pretty good path so far and although the tent had been mainly for Robyn, he couldn’t wait to lay down in it with her and return the cuddles she was always willing to give him.

“Hey Taron?”

He turned his head when her call his name.

“Yep.” He shouted back her way.

“I forgot to bring the dolphin PJ’s with me. Could you get them for me please?”

“Yeah sure of course.”

He left his cup on the kitchen counter and ducking into the tent, picked up the blue PJ bottoms and his t-shirt and carried them into the bedroom and her closet, Robyn standing behind the slightly opened door, her hair wrapped in a towel but he could see a glimpse of bare wet shoulders. He handed over the pyjamas to her.

“Thank you.” Robyn took the clothes from him. “Give me a few to comb my hair out and change and I will be out to you.”

“Take your time.”

Once she closed the door, Taron only then remembered to breathe and his eyes rolled behind his closed lids. He had missed the wonderful scent that was always left in the shower after Robyn and he had actually bought the same brand and scent of shower gel that she used, just so he could keep the same wonderfully fresh scent around him all the time. With his head in a little spin, he walked back into the kitchen and picked up the coffee he had made taking a seat on the stool at the breakfast bar. “I love you Robyn.” He whispered into his cup, his hands wrapping around the ceramic tightly, letting the heat from the cup calm his shaking hands down. He needed to get control of his hands quickly because soon they would be buried in her hair and needed to keep them steady.

Robyn stared at her reflection in the mirror and ran her right index finger over the dark skin under her eyes. She only realised how much the show took out of her when she was out of the shower and had taken the make-up off when she got home. Working the same time as show week was always rough but she only felt tired once she was dressed in her pyjama’s and in bed, though the next day always brought the excitement and adrenaline of another show that kept her energy levels going.

She rubbed some night time moisturiser to her face and was glad to see she finally managed to get all the mascara from her eyes. When she got out of the shower, she laughed at the face that stared back at her, long black lines of eye make-up down her cheeks, Robyn never able to get all of it off in one go and having to go again with more eye make-up remover to ensure all the black was gone. Thankfully she had asked for the PJ’s after she had taken all the stage make-up off and didn’t greet Taron with a panda face.

She sighed, a little smile on her lips as she thought of Taron. Wonderful, caring, loving and thoughtful Taron who had come a whole day earlier to surprise her. Who had insisted on making sure he could follow through with his plan, organising with Lyndsey and Matthew that he could do so and change his promotion for his movie, just for her. Placing her hands on the sink, Robyn sighed once more. She was completely at the mercy of her emotions when it came to Taron and her hugs were becoming tighter to the point where she didn’t want to let him go because it was getting harder and harder to do so. When she ran and jumped into his arms, she didn’t think twice, just doing it and he had caught her and hugged her so close to him and when his nose grazed her neck and he snuggled so deeply into her skin, she shivered delightfully. He just had a knack for nestling perfectly against her and it was as if her neck was made to fit Taron seamlessly and Robyn nearly expected him to place his face there every time now.

She reached up and pulled the towel from her hair and groaned at the wet curly mess she was left with. On one hand she hated that Taron had asked her not to condition her hair but on the other, her heart raced and her stomach dropped at the thought of Taron putting a hair mask in her hair himself. Robyn wasn’t a stranger to using a hair mask, but had never anyone else pop one in for her before, except maybe her hairdressers and she was a little apprehensive about the intimacy of it all and she was wondering if this is what Taron felt like when she had given him his shoulder massage. Robyn loved doing things for others, showing them how much they meant to her through her actions. It was something she rarely saw returned though and was slowly getting used to Taron wanting to do things for her too. Keith was always about taking, never giving and even something as simple as sitting on a couch together always involved space between them, or a cushion whereas with Taron, Robyn had to be almost right on top of him or she felt weird. Robyn just needed to be close to Taron full stop and it was getting easier to admit it to herself that she was in love with him and after his wonderful overwhelming surprise, she only loved him more.

She cringed as she ran a wide toothed comb through her hair and cursed Taron as it took her much longer than normal to get the knots out and it hurt, but once she was finally finished, she was ready for that hair mask. Her hair desperately needed it. The constant curling was causing more breakage then she liked and mask would solve a lot of her hair issues at the moment.

She pulled on the PJ bottoms Taron had gotten her and smiled widely as they fitted perfectly on her waist and length and knowing how particular she was with her pyjama bottoms; Taron had gotten it right without question. She picked up the t-shirt and held it in her hands. Another piece of his wardrobe to add to her collection. All she needed now was a pair of his trousers and she had a complete outfit.

She didn’t want to wear his t-shirt right at the moment and walking to her closet pulled on a sports bra and a blue tank top, knowing that the hair mask was either going to be messy or a success and she wanted to use the t-shirt to sleep in so left it in her closet to change into once the hair mask was done. Making her way into the laundry room and closet, she grabbed some towels and hearing the washing machine going, she figured Taron had popped a wash on to have some fresh clothes before he left again for the busier part of his tour. It made her smile so much that Taron just naturally made himself at home in hers now and she loved that he felt so comfortable in her house that he could do so without asking. It was what she had told him to do the first time he stepped in through her front door.

She opened the door of the laundry room and walked out. Taron was sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking from a cup.

“That is the first and last time I don’t put conditioner in my hair.” She commented, as she stood opposite him, the countertop between them.

“Not fun?”

“No, not fun.” She repeated. “But all yours.” She added, a little shy smile on her lips.

“You think it’s better done outside the tent?” He asked her.

Robyn held up the towels. “Should be ok inside the tent. Everything is happening in this tent. You went to so much trouble, I intend to get full use from it.”

He smiled. “You trust me?”

“With my life.” Robyn answered. “And always.” Carrying the towels, she walked away from him and into the tent. “Come on Rocketman, I am looking forward to this.”

Taron drained the last of his coffee and stood up, putting his cup in the sink, followed the path Robyn had taken, ducking to get into the tent, ready and excited to finally return a treat of his own to her, ready to give her just a piece of relaxation that she gave him in London.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Cuddles #Surprise #Hugs #Friendship #Proud #Presents #Gifts #Doing things for Others #Feelings #Emotions #Robyn and Taron

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lurbukthebard · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Arvel the Swift, Ralof (Elder Scrolls), Ulfric Stormcloak, Lokir (Elder Scrolls), Nord Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Original Nord Character(s) (Elder Scrolls), Alduin (Elder Scrolls), Original Dunmer Character(s) (Elder Scrolls), Kynareth (Elder Scrolls), Kyne (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Thu'um (Elder Scrolls), Dovahzul (Elder Scrolls), Retcon Timeline Summary:

He was not chosen by the Gods, he is just who remains. The Last Dragonborn is dead and no one is left to stop Alduin and his consumption of the world. Landfall is here. The dreamer, the Godhead, is finally becoming awake. It is up to Arvel the Swift, the down on his luck Dunmer thief of Bleak Falls Barrow, to somehow find a way to save the world. He must defeat Alduin without destiny on his side. A normal person must do the work of demigods and the divines. His task is supposed to be impossible, but the truth is never easy to see.

Including original characters and cannon characters from Skyrim, Oblivion, and Morrowind, this story is a complete retcon of the story to defeat Alduin. This is my project while I sit in self isolation, so hopefully this will be updated a lot.

Chapter 3: The Hall of Stories

Summary: Arvel finds the treasure of Bleak Falls Barrow and steals something back from the Nords. Additional backstory about Arvel is added. He was born in Morrowind but was forced out when he was young due to the Red Year. He mostly grew up in the Grey Quarter. He has seen the worst the Nords have to offer and harbors a particular hatred for Ulfric Stormcloak.

Finally, Arvel the swift would have his prize. His light feet and quickly moving legs carried him through the tomb of Bleak Falls Barrow. The Draugr, nightmarish walking corpses that often plagued Nordic Ruins, were easy to sneak around and avoid. In the off chance one would notice him, ghostly blue eyes would flare and Arvel would run back into the shadows. No corpse walker could outrun Arvel the swift.

After sneaking through the dark gloom of the barrow and avoiding the shallow graves of the ancient Nords, Arvel reached a large hall with many runes and carvings on either side. Images of Nord heroes and Gods were littered across the walls. An image of a woman dressed as a hawk seemed to shift and twist in the faint light of Arvel’s torch. She was above all the others and had a mighty host of woodland animals and beasts at her command.

“Ah, so this is it. The Hall of Stories.” Arvel spoke to himself triumphantly in the dusty room. At the end of the hall stood the puzzle door, with 3 rings of iron around a keyhole in the shape of a dragon claw, just as he expected. He was swallowed up by excitement. The power and treasure of Bleak Falls Barrow, untouched for thousands of years, was on the other side of that door.

Arvel pulled out the golden claw. He held the puzzle’s key like it was an oasis in the desert. Just like he had heard in the old Nordic legends, the answer to the puzzle was in the palm of his hands. The combination of ancient symbols to open the door were carved into the palm of the claw. With a deafening crack the puzzle door twisted open and slowly retreated into the floor.

“Let’s see what power and riches these ice-veined Nords left in here.” He said out loud, drawing his sword and walking confidently into the final chamber of the barrow. He felt a mix of anticipation and contempt, a perilous brew.

After so many years of living in Skyrim, Arvel had gotten used to being a second class citizen below the Nords. He had lived for a time in the Grey Quarter of Windhelm, where the supposedly heroic and honorable Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak treated the Dunmer refugees like dirt. His parents had died of the flu in the cramped slums of Windhelm in their first year living there after they fled Morrowind. It was a sickness Ulfric could have rallied his Nordic healers to cure. Instead, the Jarl didn’t lift a finger to help. It felt damn good to finally be taking something back from the children of Skyrim.

The innermost chamber of Bleak Falls Barrow was astoundingly beautiful, as if Kynareth herself had blessed the place. The barrow had opened up into a massive cave. A peaceful creek of clear blue water ran around a raised platform, holding a final sarcophagus and a massive carved wall with a statue of a dragon's head at its peak. A quickly flowing waterfall from the top of the cave ran behind the wall. Arvel then spied what he desperately wished to see, a beautifully engraved chest, no doubt with many treasures inside.

As Arvel began to sneak his way to the chest, wary to not wake the draugr inside the coffin, the wall began to … chant. It made Arvel jump in surprise. It sounded like all of the sudden a full choir of people had begun to sing. The words were in an ancient tongue that Arvel had never heard before. Now with a closer look at the wall he could see many runes and words carved all along its length. The words almost seemed to be alive and singing with throats of their own. One of the words started to glow with a blue haze, but then subsided back into the ranks with the others, as if it had crept out to look at him and then retreated back.

Arvel then realized that this chanting was probably going to blow his cover. As if on cue when he had that thought, the heavy lid of the coffin behind him flew open, and a grim Draugr clad in rotting armor began to crawl out. Even with his quick feet, Arvel would not be able to reach the chest and dash out of the way before the corpse walker would catch him. He held his sword up and prepared to fight this monster.

Arvel the Swift, willy and cunning Dunmer thief, would not let any Nord come between him and his prize, living or dead. He rushed over and stabbed his sword into the Draugr before it could properly get out of the coffin. The corpse didn’t even register the blow as the blade went straight through its chest and out the other end. Arvel couldn’t draw his weapon back out of the rotting body before the zombie brought down its own sword, nearly cutting off Arvel’s hand.

The thief quickly slapped his hand back away from the blow. Still, he could not evade the Draugr’s heavy strike with its other arm. The corpse swatted Arvel away like he was a rodent, flinging him back to the base of the chanting wall with superhuman strength. Arvel rose from the cold stone weaponless, save the dagger in his boot.

Before Arvel could think of a counterattack, the corpse ran over and knocked him back to the ground. He looked up, breathless, as the Draugr lifted its ancient blade over its head and plunged it down. He had only a moment to respond.

Arvel remembered his ancestor’s words. He could not die in this forgotten tomb. At the last possible second he rolled on his side and grabbed hold of the corpse’s arm. He lunged up and in one fluid motion drew his dagger and planted it in the Draugr’s stark blue eye. The ancient Nord screamed and collapsed to the ground. Slowly, its guttural death cries smoothed. The Draugr’s voice joined the chanting of the wall while the body stayed motionless.

Arvel belted out a cry of triumph. He had defended himself against all the tomb had to offer and now would capture its wealth. But when he opened the chest, it did not radiate with a golden hue like he had hoped. The sole object inside was a large stone tablet, carved with a dragon’s head and an engraved map of Skyrim below it with many dots and markings.

“What in Oblivion is this supposed to be?” Arvel was sorely disappointed. He wanted riches, powerful magic, or anything else he could sell for a quick price in the black markets of Riften. Where was he going to sell this? Still, he shoved it in his bag.

The chanting wall began to grow louder and the defeated Draugr started to twitch on the ground. Arvel knew it was his cue to leave this disappointing tomb, but he needed more. Before the corpse walker could resume its vigilant watch over the wall, Arvel snatched up its sword. As he picked up the blade he noticed a deadly cold chill come from its sharp edge. He was glad he hadn’t been pierced by the weapon. It certainly was better than his old rusty sword, stolen from a bandit in the wilds of Eastmarch.

Arvel escaped through a side passage in the cave. After a quick walk in its dark depths, he saw a light up ahead. He escaped through the cave mouth to the surface world. He was on a ridge above the Falkreath forest. It was midday and the wind heralded clear blue skies. The trees were as green as morning and grew tall among the massive mountains.

Arvel rested for a while on the rocks, disappointed at his lack of treasure but glad to see the sun again. He hadn’t seen the sun for many weeks when his family desperately journeyed west to escape Morrowind during the Red Year. He would never forget it. The ash clouds from Red Mountain had blocked out all light and hope. He knew more than anyone how to appreciate the sun and clear day. The clear air softly kissed him and he closed his eyes for a reprieve.

His rest was interrupted by a familiar smell. Arvel caught the scent of ash and smoke, fire and death. He opened his eyes to see a dark cloud journeying over the mountains. A trail of black smoke rose from the ruin of Helgen.

#ao3 #my fic #update #fan lore #skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr

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sassyshoulderangel319 · 6 years ago

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Karaoke Date

So my last two MLQC one-shots went from really long to fairly short and this one is solidly in the middle. I recently had a lot of professional musicians tell me I have a good singing voice so this just felt like a lot of fun.

I was sitting in my office when my phone rang. Glancing at the Caller ID and contact photo, Kiro’s smiling face and bright eyes were looking back at me. I picked it up. “Hey Kiro,” I greeted.

“Miss Chips!” Kiro replied happily, like he didn’t think I would answer. I chuckled.

“What can I help you with?”

“I came up with a brilliant idea! Hear me out,” he said dramatically. “You and me: karaoke!”

I blinked. “Uh… Kiro?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a superstar. Why would you even think that’s a good idea? You get mobbed stepping out your front door. Putting you on a stage in some bar under a bright spotlight and singing a song—even if it’s not one of yours—would be the biggest security risk I can think of. Your agent would kill me if I let you—”

“But that’s the thing! There’s this new karaoke place in town where you’re in individual rooms but your microphone is projected into all the other ones. You can lock the door and sing completely anonymously. I could go in there and sing someone else’s song and no one would know it’s me!”

“I’m pretty sure everyone would know it’s you because they can, y’know, recognize your voice… but I guess you have a point.”

“So you’ll go with me?”

“Sure.”

“Great! I’m gonna come pick you up from work tonight if that’s okay!”

I smiled. “That’s just fine. I’ll be waiting for you.” If that wasn’t the motivation I needed to get everything done in the set work schedule today rather than going overtime, I wasn’t sure what was.

“Why are you smiling, bossman?” Kiki asked.

“A friend is picking me up for karaoke after work,” I said. I purposely left Kiro’s name out of the conversation because I knew Kiki wanted me to date him and I didn’t want her to have a full-scale squeal-fest in the middle of the office when it was this early in the morning.

“Oh have fun!” Kiki said.

“I will. Definitely.”

*****

“Good evening, Miss Chips. Your chariot awaits,” Kiro said, opening the car door for me. It was a nice car—not as expensive as Victor’s but still a piece of art on wheels. He had on a hat and hipster glasses, covering his blond hair and bright eyes, as well as baggy, dark clothes. His jewelry was still the same but I’d only ever seen him without his earrings once or twice, and never without his ring. Not even at the summit. How that hadn’t given him away, I’d never figured that out. Maybe the people at the summit weren’t looking for his telltale styles.

“Hi, Ki—” I greeted, cutting myself off from saying his name. I ducked into his car. “What should I call you tonight?”

He shut the car door once he made sure I was safely in and jogged around the hood to the driver’s side. He slid in himself, so fast he nearly knocked his hat off. He gave me a dazzling smile. “I think tonight I should be… Lee. Just Lee.”

I smiled. “Okay. Lee. How was your day?”

“Long and exhausting, but I’m all better for seeing you.”

What an absolute sweetheart. “Aw. Thanks. I’m better for seeing you too.”

He beamed at me and we drove off. The radio was playing classical music, strings and winds running around each other, competing for dominance and then blending together in a perfect choir.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Kiro said.

“I’m just… listening to the music. I figured you were more of a pop radio guy.”

He snorted. “Just because I sing that stuff doesn’t mean I like listening to it in the car. Classical is so much more interesting. Have you read sheet music?”

“All the time,” I said. “I’m a pianist. And I play the cello a little.”

“Yeah. So you see my point. Pop music is so boring from a sheet music perspective.”

“I agree,” I said, thinking back on when Anna bought me a book of the most popular music of the year for piano and the music was waaay below my skill level and so simple I didn’t even need the music to figure it out by ear.

“Finally. Usually people seem shocked that my own genre isn’t my favorite,” Kiro remarked.

“Well we’re all more complex than people tend to think. We like to put things in boxes, but people never fit in boxes,” I said. Kiro hummed in agreement and kept driving. I realized he was a much safer driver than any other guy I’d been in the car with recently—except maybe Lucien. Gavin was reckless and Victor drove so fast—but Kiro was pretty cautious. I got the feeling that maybe he didn’t drive very often.

We got to the karaoke place in good time. I handled the check-in while Kiro stood just slightly behind me, not making eye contact with anyone but holding my hand. We were escorted to a private room. There was a tablet set into the wall where we could make song selections and order food and stuff.

Kiro locked the door and winked at me. “Don’t wanna be caught by any fans,” he whispered before examining the equipment. There was a bright smile on his face. “Ah, man! It’s been so long since I did something silly and normal like this!”

“Well let’s not waste time, then,” I said, crossing to the tablet set into the wall. “Let’s see… how about…” I started listing off his own song titles with a playful grin on my face. Kiro came up behind me, his torso pressing against my side and one hand resting on my shoulder to read past me.

“No way am I doing one of my own songs. That’s how I get caught,” he said.

I giggled—I couldn’t help it. “I knooow. I’m just playing with you.”

He tsked. “How rude, Miss Chips,” he teased.

I snorted. “How about this one?” I gestured to a song title. “I mean, if you want to do a duet.”

“Of course I do! I can’t wait to hear how good you are!”

I laughed. “Hold your horses, tiger. I can carry a tune but I’m nowhere near your level, Mr. Superstar.”

Before I could say anything else, Kiro reserved the song for us. The tablet gave off instructions so we’d know when it was our turn. Someone else’s slightly-off-key singing was echoing over our speakers. We turned it down a little so we could talk.

We just chatted for a few minutes. There were only two songs before us, according to the queue on the tablet screen.

When we got to be on-deck, Kiro and I took our microphones.

He looked at me as the guitar began. “Tell me somethin’ girl… are you tired of this modern world…” He had such a beautiful, crisp, clear voice. It captivated me and pulled me right in. I stared at those bright blue eyes and could have gone for a swim in them. He sounded incredible. I wondered if anyone recognized his voice.

He sang it better than the original recording with What’s-His-Face. Maybe I just like singing something straight—without overdoing the stylization. Kiro didn’t bother with fancy riffs or vibrato.

It was my turn to pick up with the female part. I cleared my throat away from the mic and then held it close. “Tell me somethin’ boy… aren’t you tired of tryna fill that void…” I started quiet but confident. I knew the lyrics—and even if I didn’t, they were on the huge TV screen that was meant for karaoke. Kiro stared back at me, both of us just holding the other’s gaze.

For the life of me, I couldn’t read his expression.

I held the mic slightly farther away from my mouth so I could let out my full belt. I’d always spoken with a loud voice and accompanying that was a singing voice that could fill a Broadway theater. I’d been taught how to sing quietly, but letting loose felt so much better.

“I’M OFF THE DEEP AND WATCH AS I DIVE IN—I’LL NEVER MEET THE GROU-OU-OUND!”

Kiro stared at me with his jaw going slack. I felt my ears reddening and my voice wavered as though I was performing in front of an audience looking right at me instead of just Kiro.

But he picked up the harmonies perfectly when he was supposed to come in, and he knew them. He didn’t even look at the lyrics on screen. Neither did I. We didn’t need them. I did the vocalization in the middle, slowly building up the volume and then repeated the refrain. Kiro added the harmonies again.

I didn’t realize until the song petered out a few seconds later that we were standing within inches of each other. His warm breath brushed over my face.

I put the mic back on its stand. Kiro did the same. After a few moments, another song started up, signaling to us that our equipment had been turned off. Kiro immediately grabbed my arms with a massive smile on his face.

“Miss Chips!” he exclaimed. “That was amazing! Why didn’t you tell me that you could sing like that! You should come on stage at my next concert!”

I shook my head. “Oh no. I don’t sing in front of crowds that big. I don’t… sing in front of crowds, period. But thanks, Kiro.”

He fell onto the couch in our little room. “I cannot believe you never told me you were that good! You should be in front of the camera as a star—not behind it producing.”

I chuckled and crossed over, standing next to him but turned slightly toward the tablet screen so I could look at the food menu and the other songs. “But I like my job,” I said.

He leaned forward, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me down onto the sofa.

Except he misjudged the angle and I ended up falling right across his lap with a, “Whoa—WHOA!”

He caught me with a hearty laugh. “Whoops! Sorry,” he said, sounding entirely and genuinely unapologetic. But the sparkle in his eyes dissolved my irritation completely.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“We need to make this a regular thing. Come and do karaoke. I can’t go the rest of my life never hearing you sing ever again—you sound so good!”

“Kiro…”

“I’m serious, Miss Chips. It can be our little getaway thing. Or you can come to my place any time you wanna practice. I just… I’ve discovered my new favorite artist,” he said.

I snorted. “Thanks,” I muttered.

He brushed a few strands of my hair out of my face, eyes peering deep into my soul with earnest affection. We froze right there for several moments, someone singing what could have been Welcome to the Black Parade in one of the other rooms. The song was fuzzy though, tuned out as we focused solely on each other.

Heat spread over my face, originating from my ears and crawling down my neck too.

So many thoughts swirled through my head all at once that I couldn’t make sense of any of them. One of them, though, rang out loud and clear, like a bell, as I stared at Kiro’s smiling eyes.

I love you.

The thought pulled me up short and my face got even hotter. I must have been turning bright red. I slowly picked my way off Kiro’s lap and went back to the tablet screen. “Want to get something to eat?” I asked. “I’m hungry.” I hoped that would be the end of it. Not that I wasn’t enjoying the moment but… I wasn’t ready to say those three words out loud yet. Kiro was… a great guy and I really liked him but he was so busy all the time. I didn’t know if I wanted to get involved in a relationship with a superstar.

If there was ever a way to get thrust into the spotlight without being a public artist myself, that was it.

“Something wrong?” Kiro asked gently at the sudden change.

“No. Just hungry. Haven’t eaten since noon and it’s…” I glanced at the clock on the tablet screen. “Holy—wow. It’s seven-PM. No wonder I’m getting a little woozy. I haven’t eaten in forever.”

Kiro pressed against my side again as I browsed the food menu. We picked what to eat and I returned to the sofa. Kiro stayed at the tablet for a second though, scrolling through songs.

“Wow,” he said. “They have a lot of my songs here.”

I snickered. “Everyone loves your songs and wants to sing them, I guess,” I said.

He turned and fell back onto the sofa next to me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!”

“Well—it’s just—you just—you went all red and got up like I… like I did something wrong.”

“It was nothing you did, I promise,” I said. “It was just… I felt like you were looking right into my soul. I psyched myself out.”

Kiro smiled. “Maybe I was looking into your soul,” he teased.

I defaulted to playful mode to get over the awkward. “Oh yeah? Did you like what you saw?”

He leaned incredibly close to me. “I loved it,” he said seriously, so breathy it was almost a whisper. Immediately my heart hammered against my sternum so hard I thought it might break my ribs.

There was that piercing look again. The one where he was seeing the contents of my heart and soul laid bare. He was so close that if I barely shifted forward I could kiss him.

Over the speakers, someone was singing one of Kiro’s love songs—one I’d listened to… way too many times. Especially on days I was feeling lonely or down on myself. It was hard, even over a recording, not to feel like Kiro was singing right to my heart. Singing for me and only me.

And I’m sure everyone who listened to that song felt the same way.

The karaoke singer definitely didn’t have the nuance of Kiro’s voice, nor Kiro’s charm, but they sounded good.

But all of that was at the very back of my mind while the artist himself was looking at me like he was trying to shine his sunlight on the deepest, darkest depths of my heart.

And there was that thought again, amongst the too-fast swirling other thoughts.

I love you.

Feeling impulsive—and knowing we had quite a while to wait for food to come—i leaned forward, closing the distance between us.

He met me with enthusiasm, his fingers sliding into my hair. I felt the ring on his right finger brush my left earlobe. My nose was squished against his cheek, letting me smell his skin. I couldn’t tell if I recognized his aftershave or not but it had a sharp sweetness to it.

Just like him.

His fingers flexed in my hair, pulling me even closer to him. I relaxed against him, letting him take the lead.

“I love you,” I breathed against his lips. “I’ve fallen for you hard. And I don’t intend to try to get up.”

He chuckled, his eyelashes brushing my cheek, not pulling away from me either. “I love you too,” he replied. “Every love song I ever wrote pales in comparison to how I actually feel for you. I never had the proper experience to write about being in love accurately until I fell for you.”

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-One: Bewildering Experience ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

There’s certain social rules when it comes to high school. Navigating as many of them as you can means getting through those four years a little less scathed. While it’s tedious at best for most, there can still be moments that stand out positively for students. The typical dredgery of classes, homework, tests and exams have the occasional break in the monotony.

For Hinata, this is her final year. A senior at last, whittling at her schedule until graduation next Summer. A rather model student, her college is all picked out, major decided, and all that’s left is to get through this last batch of school days until...well, more schooling. But surely college won’t be nearly the task high school has been, right?

Well...so she hopes.

Hinata has always been a bit of a stereotype. The quiet, nerdy, shy girl...with a crush on the star of the basketball team. Fairly academic, she also branches into some of the more artsy institutions of her high school: choir, theater club, and the occasional art class. She even participates in volleyball and tennis. Her grades are top notch due to her diligence, and...lack of a social life, really. Her quietude means mostly being ignored by her classmates. A few like Sakura, maybe Ino, occasionally drag her along for something. But for the most part, she’s left to her own devices.

The only real talking she does is digitally. She texts, she IMs on Discord, lurks on social media...but she devotes most of her time and energy to her classes, clubs, and sports.

Most of the year passes fairly normally. The typical teenage drama, class difficulties, club activities...and then they enter the last quarter of the year. Hinata’s still in her clubs, and after Winter quarter off from sports, enters her last high school tennis season.

And that’s when things start to get...weird.

For the longest time, Hinata’s crushed on one Naruto Uzumaki: aforementioned basketball player, but also baseball. Alongside him is his best friend, Sasuke Uchiha. Naruto, however, has long crushed on Sakura: a rather jock-like girl who plays sports all year round, ending with softball. The pair seem to be teetering on the edge of finally going out, and...quite obviously, that left Hinata in a bit of a funk.

...but then the unexpected happened.

Sasuke offered to come watch her play. Which, Hinata supposed, wasn’t that unthinkable. They’d been talking about it, Naruto excusing himself due to watching Sakura’s upcoming softball match after Hinata had admitted to planning to watch the boys’ baseball game. She had been rather disappointed until Sasuke spoke up.

...and then he went and confronted her about her dead-end crush once the others had gone.

Hinata was...a bit flabbergasted. But he had a point...Naruto was never going to see her the way she saw him. But it was the subtle hint beneath it that left her a bit bewildered.

...was he…?

A challenging quip resulting in his blush and stutter all but confirmed it: he, in turn, was crushing on her.

...it was completely unexpected. He was one of the most popular guys in their year…! And he...he liked...her…? Why? She’s quiet, uninteresting, unnoticed...not anyone someone like him would care about!

And yet...he did.

Disaster nearly struck when - on her way to the game - she’d gotten a flat tire on her bike. But lo and behold, none other than Sasuke’s mother - also headed to the field - offered to give her a ride. Sitting next to both Mikoto and Kushina, Hinata had watched as they achieved victory, needing only one more win to make it to state.

He’d been surprised to see her there. Made a bit of flustered small talk. And then they’d parted ways rather...awkwardly.

And it only got worse the next time she really got to see him. Nailed by a flyaway baseball bat, he’d been left with a sizeable split in his brow. Hinata, excused from a cancelled practice, offered to take him to the nurse.

Cue more careful dancing around each other, Mikoto even teasing him when he drove home (Hinata accompanying to make sure he was okay to drive).

By then, it wasn’t quite so shocking anymore. Sasuke, quite obviously, despite the breaks in social hierarchy, was very smitten with the class wallflower.

...and after all her considering it, Hinata has decided...maybe she could like him back. He’s a lot sweeter than his typical aloof persona shows. Maybe not quite the brash charm Naruto has that she originally fell for, but...it’s nice. She feels rather at ease talking to him.

So, Hinata decides to break some social rules of her own.

Waiting outside the locker rooms after an afternoon of practice, she ignores the curious looks the other boys give her, clearly suspecting she’s up to something. But Hinata just waits until the proper one emerges.

“Hi!”

Startling, Sasuke looks to her with wide eyes...and then promptly goes pink.

...she’s really starting to like when he does that. It’s just so funny compared to his typical composure. To think, she has that sort of power.

“...uh, hi?”

“I got out a little early, so I thought I’d see how your practice went,” Hinata then offers, still smiling at him.

...it’s his turn to look suspicious. “It was...fine? Why?”

“Just make sure you didn’t take any more b-bats to the face.”

His flustered expression gets all the worse, going from pink to bright red. “No! I’m fine, that was just...a freak accident. Besides, you’d probably find a way to hear about it if I did,” Sasuke then mutters, shoving hands into his pockets.

Hinata’s expression warms. “Sorry, I don’t m-mean to tease you. I really do hope you’re okay. How’s your forehead…?”

“It’s pretty much healed up. Really wasn’t that bad.”

“Good.”

After a moment of just...standing awkwardly, Sasuke tentatively starts walking, seeing her follow. “...so, did you...need anything else?”

“No. Not really.”

“...uh, okay. How, uh...how was your practice?”

“Fine! It was a bit of a light day since we have a game in two days, so...coach doesn’t want us too burnt out. That’s why I was able to catch you!”

“Oh...what team are you playing?”

“Iwa. They’re sort of our rivals in tennis. I’m r-really hoping we beat them. We’re already too low in the rankings to go to state, so...this is really our big push for the end of the year.”

Genuine concern bleeds through Sasuke’s expression. “Oh...sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. I’m h-hoping it means I can make it to some of your state games!”

“Oh, well…” Sasuke itches his neck, looking a little sheepish. “We still have one more game against Suna...we’re not there yet.”

“But I bet you will be,” Hinata counters, smiling. “You guys have done r-really well! And it would be so neat if you made it there your last year…”

“Yeah...I hope so. My brother’s soccer team went all four years, and won his junior year. I’d like to at least brush up against that, honestly.”

Hinata glances over at the wistfulness in Sasuke’s tone. “...I see. Will he...will he be able to come watch?”

“Maybe...he’s just out of college and working pretty heavily, so he might not have time. But I think the games are live streamed, so...maybe he can catch it that way.”

“That’s true. But...I hope I can go. I think a group of seniors are planning to skip out and go if you make it to the finals!”

“Really?”

“Mhm! I’d go with them, even if my dad might get mad...I’ve never skipped school before.”

Sasuke considers her for a long moment. “...why do you want to go so bad?”

“Well, it’s been a while since any of our school’s teams made it to state! I want to support them.” Looking up, there’s a small sparkle in her eyes. “...and that means you, too.”

A hint of pink creeps back into his face. “...well, uh...thanks.”

“Sasuke…?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure. What’s up?”

“I know you’re awfully busy with baseball and stuff, but um…” She looks to the ground, tucking hair behind her ear as she walks. “But...I was wondering if you’d like to...g-go out with me sometime?”

Sasuke actually freezes in his tracks.

Ending up a few paces forward, Hinata turns back toward him, seeing his wide eyes. “Would...would that be okay?”

“You...you’d wanna…?”

Dropping her coy teasing, Hinata softens, smiling warmly at him. “...I know we started off a bit, um...a bit awkwardly. With the whole...Naruto thing. But...it’s been nice getting to know you a little. You’re a very sweet person, Sasuke. I guess...I never got to see that until recently. I was too busy looking at Naruto, and...well, you seem to like to keep that sort of thing h-hidden.”

Slowly, Sasuke’s posture loses its tense edge.

Hinata glances aside, expression a bit unreadable. “...I’m sorry if you...if you had to keep this to yourself for very long. I know how that feels, and...I’m sorry for never noticing.”

“...well, I wasn’t exactly open about it. I just thought...y’know...you couldn’t really be interested with Naruto around.”

“...well, you were right. He’s never going to see me that way, and...maybe I need to try looking elsewhere.” Shyly, she glances up to him. “...maybe at...someone who already sees me.”

Nerves showing through his expression again, Sasuke dusts pink across the bridge of his nose. “...I’d...I’d like to try that. I know the year’s almost over, and...maybe we’ll end up apart once college starts. But...I really do like you, Hinata,” Sasuke offers in a rare moment of openness. “So...yeah. I’ll let you know when I’ve got some time where we can...do something. Hopefully a day will line up, right?”

She nods, smile back in place. “Okay. Here, I’ll...give you my number. And we can...text about it later? When you’ve got a moment?”

“Yeah, sure.” With digits exchanged, the pair stand in silence for a moment. “...y’know, I...wasn’t expecting you to do that. You really caught me off-guard,” Sasuke admits with a huff of a laugh.

“I f-figured I would,” she agrees with a laugh of her own. “But...well, one of us had to say something, right?”

“Yeah...glad you did.”

“...me too. Anyway, I...better get home. Homework and all that,” Hinata sighs.

“Yeah, same. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay!” Giving a beaming wave, she takes off toward the bike rack as Sasuke makes his way to the parking lot. There’s a happy little flutter in her chest. It was a bit of a bewildering experience on both sides, but...for once, she’s glad she took a leap.

Now to see where it will take her…!

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to days 149, 168, and 183!) More sportsverse! And I'm slowly making up my behind days xD With this I'm just one behind now, though I'm not sure when I'll have time to be 100% caught up. October is gonna be busy both irl and in regards to writing, so...we'll see! Anyway, we have Hinata leading the charge for once! Nervous, blushy Sasuke is best Sasuke. And I like Hinata having her bold moments...especially when it's something like this! We officially have a relationship going, woohoo! Maybe another prompt will let me write a date xD We'll have to see! But yes, for now I've got some irl stuff to get done, but! Thanks, as always, for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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wannawrite · 6 years ago

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Best Of Both Worlds

who?: Wanna One’s Park Woojin

genre: 🌸

type: scenario

word count: 4.3K

TW: coarse language

blog navigator.

who said love and evil don’t mix?

love-hate! AU

I have so much to say about this AU

⁃ admin l

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say? I dare you to repeat that shit again!” Your steely glare bore into the sarcastic hazel orbs of Park Woojin’s.

Aka the most annoying person, you had ever encountered.

Woojin sighed and casually repeated his sentence. “I really like your, yes, your best friend, Clara and yes, you should help us get together.”

The words took your brain too much time to process, too much time functioning around Park Woojin.

“Wow,” you drawled. “I lost brain cells trying to comprehend your words so bye, time for me to leave.”

The most, you managed to amble two steps away from him before e caught your elbow.

“Let me go you idiot! Or I’m going to yell to this whole neighbourhood that you bullied me!” You threatened, beyond angered.

Reluctantly, Woojin released his grip on your arm.

“Why should I even help you? Clara has a heart of a puppy! She can’t even harm a damn fly! Why her?” you groaned, picturing a harmful image of Park Woojin and Clara together.

He was the embodiment of the devil while she was the angel who was in charge of the choir in heaven. As a couple, it would be awful.

Disgusting.

Woojin beamed happily. “Because you love your best friend and you want her to be happy,” he explained like he was stating the obvious.

Giving him a once over - just in case he changed in 0.5 seconds, you decided that he was definitely not cut out to be boyfriend material, let alone Clara’s sort of boyfriend material.

You snorted. “She’ll be miserable with you! What kind of guy pours his milk into a bowl before the cereal. Uncultured! Strike one!”

Woojin frowned, teeth gritted. “That was one! time when we were 8 years old!”

Then, as if a light bulb flickered on inside his rather dull head, he smirked. “Don’t you remember when we were 8? And you had this massive crush on Lee Daehwi?”

A hot red seared your cheeks at the mention of that day. The day Park Woojin embarrassed you in front of all your neighbours at the monthly barbecue. Back then, he was the only one who knew you had a crush on Daehwi.

How? Woojin stole your diary in kindergarten, deciphered your illegible handwriting during nap time and discovered your secret crush.

What a gentleman.

“You better shut your mouth before I rip out your vocal cords, sew them back then slowly snip the seams one by one!” You growled threateningly. At least, you hoped to seem more collected than you actually were.

The imagery is really starting to take its toll on me.

“Do you always have to be so graphic?” Woojin rolled his eyes. “All I’m asking is for you to put in a good word for me. What have I done to you?”

Done to me?

A perfectly cut nail jabbed its way into Woojin’s chest accusingly. “You? What have you done to me?”

“I mean, you invaded my privacy when we were kids. Told the whole neighbourhood and the Lee family that I had a crush on their son! Then everyone spent two years thinking I was a slut because you claimed I kissed two people in an hour!”

Woojin took one look at your finger on his chest and flicked it away. “Talk about harassment now.”

You wanted to scream in his face and perhaps tie him upside down to a tree.

Woojin was such a jerk! Helpful next-door neighbour my ass!

You stormed ahead of him, eager to arrive home. Just breathing the same air made your head spin. Slamming the door in his face seemed perfect.

“That was when we were kids! I’ve apologised!” He yelled from behind you before stretching his long legs and catching up with you.

“Sure.”

A sigh left Woojin’s lips as he dramatically pinched the bridge of his nose in mock despair. “Fine. I have a proposition anyway.”

“I’m not interested,” you shot back, boredom filling your tone.

“It involves Lee Daehwi,” he hummed casually.

Those three words. Someone’s name. Those were enough to make you freeze, and cause your heart to pound.

You cleared your throat and tried to appear nonchalant in front of Woojin, hoping he would not notice.

“Okay,” you groaned reluctantly. “I’m listening now.”

If only your complete infatuation allowed you to tune out to whatever Woojin would propose.

Hell, who would make a deal with the devil?

“How fickle of you. I’m wondering if Daehwi even deserves someone like you,” Woojin commented, a teasing smirk on his lips.

Annoyed, you kicked an innocent stray pebble on the sidewalk, wishing it was Woojin’s face.

“Get on with the deal or I’m backing out.”

The boy put his hands up in mock surrender, faking shock. “Woah, okay.”

Surprisingly, he obeyed.

“I’ll set you up with Daehwi, if you help me get into Clara’s good books.”

“You make it sound like-“

“You don’t even have to help me until your ship is sailing,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who else would you go to? I’m Daehwi’s best friend and your next door neighbour, so perfect !”

It sounded like the most perfect proposal in the world. But Woojin wasn’t from this world. Far from it. Down under.

However, because of my stupid adoration for Lee Daehwi, I’m going to give Woojin a chance.

And Clara sleep paralysis.

But how bad could it be? It’ll be a win-win situation at the end.

Hopefully.

Clara’s a strong woman, she can handle herself. Like this, I can also regulate Woojin’s behaviour around her, maybe even sabotage it.

Thoughts like those filled your mind as you weighed out the pros and cons.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and offered Woojin an outstretched hand.

“I believe you’ve got yourself a deal.”

It was way past visiting hours at your house, after dinner and the time when the whole family was doing their own thing.

For example, you were holed up in your room, watching the latest drama on your laptop and grinning like an idiot.

That was when your father knocked on your door and announced that someone was here to see you.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, you padded out to the living room to meet your uninvited guest.

“You!”

Your jaw fell open in disbelief and shock, a finger instinctively pointed accusingly at the person sitting on your sofa.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, clearly frustrated, mildly annoyed Woojin had to see you in your lazing around outfit.

“Well, hello to you too. I feel so welcome here,” Woojin replied sarcastically.

While you were in your comfiest t-shirt and shorts, Woojin was clearly dressed up for a night out. That fact alone made you worried.

Plopping yourself into space next to him, you asked once more, “What are you doing here?”.

Woojin grinned like the Cheshire cat, wide and proud. “Someone I know is throwing a party tonight and...Daehwi will be there. Facts only.”

“And if you’re lying?”

In all honesty, you wouldn’t put it past him for lying.

He scoffed. “Why would I be? Our pact starts today. The faster I get you and Daehwi together, the faster I can get Clara.”

Woojin stretched out a hand, eyes almost challenging you to grab it. “So, party or no?”

Taking his hand, you shook it. “Give me a while, I need to change and tell my parents. Drinks or whatever are in the fridge.”

Daehwi. Daehwi. Daehwi. He’ll be there.

“Impossible,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the crowd frantically for any sign of Woojin or Daehwi.

Half an hour after losing Woojin, he was still nowhere to be found. Sure, he had instructed you to wait in the kitchen while he fetched Daehwi but he was taking way too long.

Plus, the kitchen began filling up with hungry drunkards and you figured it was time to scram.

Even though this party could be considered ‘small’, you weren’t exactly familiar with any of the faces.

Who even threw this party? Their snack selection sucked.

“Y/N!”

Finally!

Pushing through the crowd, you reached the other side of the house, from where Woojin was calling.

“Damnit! Don’t you know how to pick up a phone?” He flashed his phone screen in your face, the device was calling yours.

“Sorry. But you, you took way too much time to fetch him,” you fired back. “And, I called you twice as well!”

Luckily, Daehwi noticed your presence and decided to break the ice.

“Hey y/n, good to see you. Woojin never mentioned you would be here tonight,” he said with a smile.

“Hi!” You glared in Woojin’s direction to ask for help. “Uh, I love giving surprises so, here I am!”

You swore he facepalmed.

“Uh, I love parties and all!” You added much to Woojin’s horror.

To your relief, Daehwi only chuckled in amusement.

“Oh my god! Guys, it’s MY song! This is MY jam and...it’s time to dance! Come along,” Woojin shouted, dragging you and Daehwi to dance without waiting for replies.

“Oh, I didn’t know you listened to Taylor Swift,” Daehwi murmured. Woojin paid no mind to his accurate comment.

Woojin didn’t. As his next-door neighbour, all you had heard for the past few nights were pop and rap songs with the occasional ballad thrown in.

“Guess he’s trying out something new,” you added, trying to seem casual and composed.

In reality, your heart was going to leap out of your chest.

Quite a graphic scene.

Suddenly, Woojin announced that he needed a drink, or saw someone he knew, whichever excuse came first. He left you and Daehwi in the centre of the dance floor with a wink.

Shit! That prick knows I can’t dance!

Act composed. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

“I love this song,” you said, attempting to groove but ended up stepping on someone’s toes.

“Um, looks like you and Woojin have similar tastes, haha! Y’all must spend a lot of time together,” Daehwi responded, somewhat unsure of how to react.

Crap!

“Oh, nah.” You quickly tried to brush off the assumption. “We’re just neighbours. You know that. You’re my neighbour too. Wait, why am I telling you this. You already know this. I-“

Ahh, the rambling.

Inhaling deeply, you calmed down and gathered your words properly.

“Sorry for my rambling. I think the party has me a little woozy,” you explained sheepishly.

People began to jostled you around, so you ended up finding your spot on the sidelines. Daehwi trailed after you.

He shook his head in, disagreeing. “Don’t be.”

Then, his thick brows furrowed with concern, eyes searching for any signs of distress. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call Woojin? You should be heading home if you’re feeling unwell.”

This is why he’s so perfect. He is THE sweetest man on this planet and no one can change my opinion.

“No!” The yell was a little too loud, causing a couple of odd looks to be thrown your way. You hastily made up a believable excuse, trying to smile flirtatiously, “Uh, I just got here. Besides, we just met!”

“I’ll be taking that away from you.”

In one swift motion, Woojin had swooped your cup of ‘whatever it was from the kitchen bar’ and throwing it into the trash.

You blinked twice at him, almost unable to believe what had just happened. “Woojin! Wha-“

Daehwi looked relieved to find Woojin. “Thank god you’re here! Uh, I...oh! Youngmin hyung!”

He looked to you, then to Woojin and back to you. “If you don’t mind...”

Woojin nodded in ‘Youngmin’s’ direction, grabbing a hold of your elbow. “Go ahead.”

Your mutter was incomprehensible.

“I guess, I’ll see you guys around! Nice meeting you here! Drive safely!” Daehwi bid the two of you goodbye with a wave. He disappeared pretty quickly into the crowd.

“Do you want to stay?” Woojin gestured to the most happening place of the party. Sighing, you rubbed your temples and shook your head, kicking the trash bin on the way out.

When you were seated in Woojin’s car and definitely out of earshot, did you begin to spill the short encounter to your friend.

“He asked me if I was okay!”

“He does that all the time.” Was his muted reply. “...But good job, I saw you guys talking.”

Woojin took a left down the lane.

A scoff left your lips. “Of course, until you interrupted us and threw my drink in the trash.”

He remained nonchalant with his answer. “Okay. Whatever that was had reached your brain and you were acting like a malfunctioning Ken doll. I saved your ass from embarrassing yourself in front of Daehwi.”

Reclining into the plush leather seat, you nodded playfully. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

With another turn, Woojin cleared his throat. “So, about our deal...”

“Yeah, yeah, Clara and all.”

Honestly, no bones in your body were excited to introduce Woojin to Clara. Even though she had witnessed your ‘banter’ with him, she never knew who he was. Plus, she was the nicest type of friend who thought of everyone in the best possible light.

Most people.

Woojin? Definitely.

Settling on her contact, your finger hovered directly above the illuminated blue button.

Text or call?

“How about next Saturday, a double date, bbq place next to the library?” You suggested.

“Double date?” Woojin questioned, brow quirked.

“Yeah, you, me, Daehwi, Clara. She loves barbecue by the way. I’ll say you suggested the idea,” you said, throwing in ideas as they came.

A smile broke out on Woojin’s face, so wide it made your heart flutter. You reached over and pinched one of his cheeks.

“You’re blushing,” you sang with delight.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Woojin admitted without hesitation. “Barbecue?”

“Text sent!” You confirmed happily, nearly tossing your phone to the back seat.

“Let’s get it.”

You: hey Clara, caught a fever, not coming to school so help me tell everyone, okay?

Clara: omg :((( i hope you get better soon and I’ll drop by later. Get some rest now💖

Right after you received her reply, you sent a heart back and threw your phone across your room.

The fever had really gotten you all worked up. It was incredibly annoying that your immune system picked and chose the times to malfunction.

Such as a fever two days before you were scheduled for a double date!

Wonderful.

The thought of cancelling the date mad you blush hotly with anger and frustration. Maybe you cried once or twice thinking about how the ‘breaking the news’ scenario would play out.

All you could do was to wait for the fever to subside then sweet talk your way into your parent’s approval. They would feel uneasy.

You hissed, retracting a hand away from your forehead that burned like hot coals.

Well, nothing could materialise unless the fever broke.

Sulkily, you slipped under the blankets again and hoped for rest to come.

Somehow, you wondered if Woojin had noticed your absence from school, or whether he noticed you hadn’t left your house that morning.

The fever must have severe impacts on your prefrontal cortex. Who would think of him? Why do I want him to notice? Do I want him to care?

At least, you managed to quietly slip into a serene dream.

“Rise and shine, brat .” A voice rang, echoing off the walls of your brain.

“Get up! You need to wake up! Your forehead’s burning, you have to take your pills!”

Mum? But,,,mum doesn’t swear and she’s meant to be at work. Clara? Clara never swears! Besides, she has tuition today. Neither of them have deep voices...Dad is at work too...

Woojin?

Wait, it could be Daehwi?

Trying to guess the person from voice alone was a seemingly easy task for a person whose brain wasn’t being eaten up by a fire.

Strange, it placed Woojin on the list too.

“What,” you whispered, unamused.

Claps sounded through the atmosphere, and a sarcastic voice followed suit. “Fantastic! Sleeping beauty has awoken! Though, I must say you look much more like the beast when asleep.”

At that comment, your eyes flew open and you leapt up to confront the intruder.

“Park Woojin! What are you doing here?”

Isn’t this the second time in two weeks that he has adventured into my house? First my living room and now my bedroom?

“Woojin! Now, I have to disinfect my whole house because of your germs!”

With a gentle push on your shoulder, you fell back onto your bed. “Relax,” Woojin said. “I come in peace.”

He gestured to his mysterious metal tureen, a teddy bear and a balloon. “The notes are from your friends. Clara got you the balloon and, I bought you the bear.”

Weirdly enough, you felt paper wings of tiny butterflies flap in your stomach and heart begin to thud.

“Oh,” you muttered wordlessly, accepting his teddy bear.

Woojin then proceeded to offer you the container of chicken broth stew, saying how he spent hours broiling it. He also managed to brag about his excellent chef skills.

After which, he presented a folder of all the work you had missed, with a sticky note of instructions. It was neatly organised and even had colourful sticky tabs.

“Clara collected the work and asked me to deliver it,” he clarified.

Clara’s handwriting was a whole lot neater and more cursive than his boxy letters.

Still, you played along, not wanting to put him in a spot.

“Why are you doing all this for me? You really didn’t have to.”

A part of you was reluctant to hear the truth because Park Woojin came up with the most ridiculous reasons ever. But the other half wanted to know if this meant something, at least platonically.

For a minute, Woojin distracted himself by looking anywhere but in your direction.

“You idiot,” he finally snickered. “I still need my favourite wingman for Saturday. Can’t have you bailing on me.”

You sort of knew he was joking and truthfully, it made a whole lot of sense. Yet, why did it somehow hurt?

Sensing the shift in your mood, Woojin grew anxious. He gave your shoulder a pat. “Hey, all that aside. I came here as your next door neighbour and your friend. You can call me anytime.”

Reassuring.

His words were so reassuring.

Friends.

We were friends now.

Maybe you were sick and ignoring his usual stupid, goofy side and tapping into the soppy, emotional perspective but you appreciated this unseen side of your new friend.

“Thank you for caring,” you expressed with gratitude.

He gave a charming boyish nod before enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

Woojin looks like the kind of guy to give good hugs

A glance at the clock told you that you were five minutes late to the barbecue place.

The main reason: the cool, calm, playful Park Woojin was having a total breakdown in his bedroom

First, it was about the colour of his shirt. Then, how he did his hair and how many earrings he should wear.

The past hour or so was spent on you trying to encourage and reassure him.

“Cheer up! You always look amazing in everything and you’ll look even better when you show off your cooking skills! I know you can make a mean fried rice!”

“But, what if-“

“No buts! You can do this! You’re Park Woojin! And, you have me! The best wingman in the world!”

Your energetic pep talk seemed to have calmed his nerves for the time being.

Meanwhile, you received text updates of food Daehwi and Clara had ordered.

It seemed like the two of them hit it off well in the short time they had been sitting at the same table. Their casual banter got on your nerves more than it should have.

Yet, your mind was more preoccupied thinking about Woojin.

He had barely uttered a word to Clara.

Deciding that enough was enough, you kicked him in the shin under the table.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed. “What the hell?”

“That’s...not...how you grill meat, Woojin! Let me teach you how. I think food is an essential part of a conversation starter, don’t ruin it,” you warned through gritted teeth.

“Hey! It's not like you do any better in cooking,” Woojin shot back, clearly not getting the message.

Clara smiled sweetly and awed. “These two argue like a married couple! How cute!”

You picked up the scissors and gave a little ‘snip-snip’. “I’ll chop off my ring finger before he ever proposes!”

Clara motioned for you to calm down before whining about your dramatic ways.

“I think they’re funny,” Woojin suddenly defended. “I-I mean...it’s fun to challenge someone.”

Daehwi and Clara exchanged not-so-subtle looks.

Oh no.

They think that this ‘double date’ is for them to wingman us! Plus, they do look like they enjoy each other’s company.

Woojin would be so crushed! I need to warn him.

“Woojin,” you coughed. “I think I left my...wallet in the car. Could you come with me to get it?”

Wordlessly and with shaky hands, he passed you the car keys. You swore you saw him suck in a deep breath when your fingers brushed.

You felt sparks too, you were just better at concealing them, for the sake of Clara and Daehwi.

Woojin couldn’t stay here alone. What if they get the wrong idea and interrogate him until he is forced to reveal our pact? That’ll end his chances with Clara forever!

This pact was so stupid!

But it did give me some of the best moments of my life. Woojin bringing soup over, going to parties together...

“Uh, I forgot where we parked the car.”

Groaning, Woojin got up from his seat, back to his usual self. “Seriously? I suppose it comes with age. Your skin looks a lot more wrinkly than before.”

Yes, he was back to his usual self.

“You’re insufferable! I can’t believe it,” you grumbled, quickly steering both of you out of the shop.

Out of sight, you filled him in on how the current, dire situation. But that didn’t faze him one bit.

“Hello? Woojin! You have to talk to Clara okay? Giving her a yoghurt smoothie every day isn’t going to suffice!”

You continued to talk once the car came into sight.

“Besides, you were so nervous about meeting her! Chill, calm down. Now’s the perfect time to use all your charm on her!”

“I like you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, jaw dropping open as you locked eyes with Woojin. Surely, he’s kidding.

Right?

It has to be his confession for Clara. That’s what he’s so nervous about! He just needed to rehearse with me.

A half-hearted laugh let your lips. “Woojin, don’t play with my feelings. At least give me a warning before you practice your confession on me.”

He glanced away then looked straight into your eyes.

“Hey, Clara,” he began confidently.

You offered a thumbs up for encouragement.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re an amazing person but, it isn’t working out between us-“

A frowned etched into your face and you reminded that it was love confession, not a breakup scene.

“I like your friend, y/n. So, please help me tell them to stop being so dense!”

I. Like. You.

What the hell.

“You don’t have to tell me anything now, or ever. I just wanted you to know,” he said. “Come on, let’s go back before they finish lunch.”

“Why do you like me?” you blurted out. “I mean, we hated each other from day one, remember?”

He shrugged, his cute shrug. “You are a lot different from the version that I ‘hated’. I think getting to know and understand you made me realise how much I enjoyed being together.”

“As for Clara, I was infatuated, we talked about it on one of our many yogurt smoothie encounters. She...likes someone else anyway, but I’m not hurt or anything.”

Even though your face burned and your head hung low, every single bone in your body was bursting with joy.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally admitted.

Truthfully, your whole Daehwi crush had died down the more time you spent with Woojin. Daehwi was a good friend and Woojin? Well, you had to work that out.

“Can I get back to you on it? We live next door, we can talk any time,” you suggested shyly.

Woojin burst out laughing. “Woah. You gon’ break my heart just like that? Bold. I like it.”

Ahhh, my favourite side of Park Woojin is back.

Snickering, you fought back. “Can’t wait till I set your hair on fire and you’ll feel what it’s like to be...roasted.”

“Oops, forgot you feel that all the time whenever I’m around.”

Woojin rolled his eyes and smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Funny, but you’re the one always getting clowned. Remember that time I threw slime into your hair, you never realised and your crush had to point it out to you? History can repeat itself today.”

Damn, now I’m going to lie awake tonight thinking about that incident.

“You better take that back before give you all the burnt meat today!” you declared. “God, I can’t stand you!”

Chortling, Woojin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Watch out for cars. Your blind ass is going to get run over one day.”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, leaving a shiver running down your spine.

“You know you love me.”

Two fingers gently pinched his cheek in response.

“Please. I love barbecued meat more than you. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But secretly, once he was looking away, you grinned, stretching from ear to ear and your heart never felt warmer.

#admin l #wanna one #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 scenarios #park woojin #produce 101

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anchoredtether · 6 years ago

Photo

Title: A Cappella

Author/Artist: AnchoredTether

Rating: T [mild swearing, graphic depictions of violence]

Pairings: Plance [Lance x Pidge]

Series: Harmonious Conjunction

Chapter: 2/?

Summary: After discovering a secret (or not so secret?) talent of Lance’s, Pidge finds herself realizing how little she actually knows about her longtime obnoxiously flirty teammate. She thought she had Lance figured out, but the more she learns the more she realizes the complexity of the Blue Paladin’s personality. It turns out her curiosity just might be the death of her.

Timeline: Takes place after the end of season 5

CHAPTER 02 ][ A CAPPELLA

Pidge made a mental note to look into her hacked Garrison files still on her laptop and find Lance's file, delve into his test scores or something to find out the hidden whatever it was that piqued her interest in the Blue Paladin. The team went on a mission the next morning to free citizens from Galra forces, so Pidge didn't exactly have time to work on her "research." Between shooting warships and forming Voltron and fighting Galra soldiers, it wasn't until a few days later that the crew found some much needed peace and quiet after an exhausting battle.

"This juice is incredible, Hunk! What's it made of?" Lance slurped his straw obnoxiously as he finished his seventh serving of the stuff. They were all lounging in the common room, enjoying some refreshments Hunk whipped up from the planet they were currently occupying.

"You don't wanna know." Hunk replied ominously.

"Ew, please don't tell me this is made of intestinal juices or something." Keith made a face at the cup in his hand.

"Gross Keith! Why would your mind go there first, of all places??" Pidge stuck out her tongue as if the juice she was just drinking was, in fact, made up of intestinal juices.

"Ohmygosh guys, it's not from something that bad!!" Hunk cried. "Give me some credit!!"

Lance had turned a few shades paler. "So...." His eyes slowly moved to glare inquisitively at his friend. "What iiiiiis it made of??" When Hunk didn't answer, Lance stuck out his neck. "I GOTTA KNOW MAN! I DRANK SEVEN CUPS OF THIS STUFF!"

Hunk sighed. "It's from a plant similar to a coffee bean, one of the natives showed me how to make it."

"Okay, so it's like coffee, I can handle that. Tastes more like pineapple orange juice though, which is weird."

"But the 'beans' used to brew it come from... from..."

"FROM WHERE?!?"

"....from the regurgitations of a creature that looks like a field mouse."

"SO WE'RE EATING MOUSE VOMIT JUICE!?!" Keith looked ready to snap, but the whole crew looked equally disgusted or abhorrent.

"But...it's delicious mouse vomit juice." Hunk protested.

"It's perfectly safe, Paladins." Allura assured them, the only one aside from Coran who seemed unphased by this information. "Food preparation can come in all kinds of strange forms. This juice that Hunk learned to create is actually incredibly nutritious and will no doubt help you all replenish after a hard battle!"

"Allura's right, ya know." Coran butted in, taking a pitcher of the stuff to refill his own cup, then went around filling everyone else's cups despite their looks of disgust and horror. "Besides, there are plenty of weirder drinks you Earthlings are accustomed to, such as the deliciously disturbing drink produced from Kaltenecker."

"Oh don't remind me of that." Allura said softly as if she were reminded of a nightmare.

"What!? I thought you two loved milkshakes. You drank em faster than Lance." Hunk said.

"Ehhhh, yeah." Lance took a sip of his refilled mouse vomit juice before continuing. "I showed them how one 'acquires' milkshakes and they were... horrified."

Pidge still frowned at the drink she held in her hand. "That's perfectly normal on Earth. We get milk from cows, goats, camels, yaks... all mammals get milk from their mothers as infants. I'm surprised you Alteans are weirded out by such a... natural concept. Or do you guys not... breastfeed...?" She only realized how awkward the question was after she said it.

Lance interrupted the awkward silence with his obnoxious slurping.

"How are you still drinking this stuff?" Keith asked, impressed but disgusted.

He shrugged. "It tastes good. You can't let the psychological-ness of it get to you. Let your taste buds decide if you want it."

"That is something Lance would say." Shiro finally spoke. Although his expression was hesitant, he drank the juice as well.

"That is something Lance would say." Keith echoed in agreement.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lance didn't quite sound offended, but moreso confused.

"Well, I'm sorry about the uhh... 'psychological-ness' of this, as Lance puts it." Hunk apologized. "I'll try to make something less... you know what, I just won't tell you guys what's in my recipes anymore."

Pidge sighed. "That's probably for the best."

In the end, it was mostly Lance, Hunk, Allura, and Coran who drank the juice. Shiro seemed to like it the more he drank, but Pidge downed her glass like it was medicine (complete with disgusted noises) while Keith gave his cup to Lance. They slowly trickled off from the common room one by one, heading to get ready for bed after a long day of fighting.

][ --- ][

Pidge retired to her room, ready to take off her Paladin armor and plop down on her bed, but she decided instead to take a well-needed shower. She was normally a morning shower person, but her shoulders were sore and she figured the hot water would help her relax to get an even better sleep. She gathered her towel and pajamas and headed towards the bathrooms. As she approached, she heard something that sounded vaguely familiar, something that reminded her of Earth.

It was music, no, singing, faintly coming from the bathroom door. When the door slid open with a whirring sound and she stepped into the steamy room, she could hear it with greater clarity. She recognized the song, but she couldn't put a name on the artist who originally sang it. Pidge had more of a taste for techno and movie soundtracks, so the more popular songs were less familiar to her. She was drawn further into the communal bathroom, lingering just past the edge where the mens side began. She was mesmerized by the voice, the words beautiful and passionate.

This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for? Why don't we break the rules already? I was never one to believe the hype Save that for the black and white I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked, But here they come again to jack my style That's alright I found a martyr in my bed tonight She stops my bones from wondering just who I, who I, who I ammm Oh, who am I? Mhmm... Mhmm...

Pidge's honey brown eyes widened as she realized who was singing. It was Lance. Since when could Lance sing? How had she not known? But now that she thought about it, she had never heard him sing. Usually individuals who had a voice like that were constantly singing, whether along with their headphones, with the radio, or a cappella at random spurts. It seemed incredibly contradictory - Lance, the one who was always batting his eyes at women and sliding smooth pick up lines, didn't ever use his siren-like singing ability to woo the ladies. Why would he hide such a talent? Lance wasn't exactly one to be bashful. He continued, and Pidge couldn't help but sit down on the cool tile floor and listen intently as he sang the chorus even louder.

Well, some nights I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change. And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights I always win, I always win...

She couldn't help the small giggle when he started singing overlapping parts of the song, although he did it amazingly well for a one-man-choir. She was about to head towards the girls' side to shower when he ended the song, but as she was in the middle of getting up onto her feet he started singing another song with hardly any pause to catch his breath. This song had a much different feel than the last, but Lance still sang it with all his heart.

I am a question to the world, Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms. And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway… You don't know me, And I’ll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you'd understand? I'm a boy, no, I'm a man.. You can't take me and throw me away. And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here.

Pidge was standing now, her towel and clothes held tight to her chest, her eyes staring vacantly at the floor as his words struck something deep inside her. She knew this song. She loved this song. It reminded her of home, of Earth, of her family, and it brought tears to her eyes. She could hear the music in between the words Lance sung. As the song enveloped her core, she felt how the words applied so strongly to the boy who sang them, the boy she was starting to finally better understand.

And I want a moment to be real, Wanna touch things I don't feel, Wanna hold on and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change? They’re the ones that stay the same. They don’t know me, 'Cause I’m not here.

And you see the things they never see All you wanted, I could be Now you know me, and I'm not afraid And I wanna tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me As long as I know who I am

When she felt the tears spill over her lashes and fall upon her towel did she blink rapidly, snapped out of her trance. His words weren't just notes to be sung. She could tell this was a favorite song of his and the words resonated with him and who he was. In a sense, hearing him sing I'm Still Here felt more personal than something akin to reading his diary. Pidge contemplated leaving the bathroom and going back to her bed so he wouldn't know anyone heard him, but she couldn't find it in her feet to leave the bathroom. She wanted to continue listening, not only because it made her bittersweetly nostalgic for Earth but because it was a side of Lance she never knew... a side she was starting to admire, if only in secret.

Finally she made her way towards the girls' showers, albeit slowly. She hesitated to turn on the water because that meant it would be harder to hear Lance's voice, but eventually she shook her head and willed herself to take her shower. Lance unknowingly serenaded her and she found herself standing under the stream of hot water completely lost in thought. In time she heard the shower water stop on the opposite side of the bathroom and the Blue Paladin's voice ceased its beautiful chorus. For a moment Pidge panicked, realizing that he would know that either she or Allura had heard him, and shut off her water. It was a desperate attempt to hide the fact she was there, and Lance would never be a hundred percent certain unless he dared to walk over to the girls side and see Pidge's feet beneath the curtain. There was a long, terrifyingly anxious pause of silence where she tried her best to hold her breath. To her relief, she heard the door to the bathroom open and close and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

She didn't know what to think of the whole encounter.

And for Pidge, not knowing what to think was a first.

#harmonious conjunction #my fanfiction #plance #flirtyrobot #plance au #voltron #vld #voltron au #vld au #plance fanfiction #flirtyrobot fanfiction

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that-buckley-gal · 6 years ago

Text

Powerless - Chapter Five

June 21, 1943

June 15, 1943

Dear Bucky,

I went out to the Spades Club in Manhattan last night with a couple of girls whose men also shipped out yesterday. Don’t worry boo; everyone involved went home alone, myself included. But I hope you don’t mind that the cat is out of the bag about our engagement.

You know Edna and Annie Collins? They saw my beautiful ring and asked me where I got it. Of course I said it was from Romania. They asked how I got it. The answer was from you. The two of them put two and two together and you know what they did next? They completely made a huge deal about it. By the time I left, nearly all the girls in the bar knew my name and were coming up to congratulate me on our engagement. The only thing that could’ve made it better is if you were there. But duty calls, and you’re off protecting America like the great man you are. I love you.

Forever yours,

Madison Rogers

6/18/1943

Miss Madison Nicole, Thank you for the picture, though it’s not the one I would’ve chosen. I hope you can replace that picture; it was my favorite. The Spades Club, huh? I remember when I took you dancing there for the first time. I’m glad you’re doing okay, or at least seem to be. But from the stamp, it says your letter was sent out the day I left. Miss me already? It’s okay though because I miss you too. It’s not what I expected…to be here, and even so I’m not staying long. We’re being relocated somewhere else – I’ll let you know where as soon as we get the order. Anyways, I’m glad the word’s out about our engagement. That should be more than enough to keep them boys away from you. I don’t want to hear about any funny business, Mads. I love you, Bucky Barnes

I smile and hold the letter over my heart. My light blue eyes wander over to the clock on the wall, seeing it was a half past 11. Figuring I should do laundry today I move to start collecting my clothes. I’m in my bedroom when there’s a knock on the door. Confused and slightly paranoid, I move over to the door as quietly as I can, looking through the peephole to see a woman in a green suit. My eyes wander over her uniform and dark, curly hair, which made me smile widely. The woman’s ruby red lips purse slightly as she studies the door and I know who she is. “Agent Carter, I assume?” I ask through the door. The woman visibly starts before her dark orbs narrow. “Yes, I am. And I’m to assume your Madison Rogers?” “English. Perfect,” I said and open the door with a smile. “Steve told me about you in a letter he sent me.” She stared at me for a moment before her professional demeanor faltered as she smiled. “And he told me about you when I drove him back to camp.”

“Would you like to come in, Agent Carter?” I ask.

She let herself into my apartment and I closed the door behind her. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” I ask politely, now wondering why an agent showed up at my door on a Monday morning. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.” “Okay,” I said. As I put the kettle on the stove, it occurs to me that Steve’s been in Jersey for nearly a week now. I then peer at the woman at my kitchen table. She’s leaning back slightly as her eyes scan the living room. I follow her gaze and I see that she’s looking at family photos. Her gaze lingers on a photo of Bucky, Steve, and I at Coney Island before turning the other way. The kettle began to whistle and I set tea bags into two cups and I set those down on the table before grabbing the kettle with a dishtowel. I carefully pour the boiling water into the two cups before setting it down. “How do you take your tea?” I ask. “Have you a lemon and honey?” Agent Carter asked back. “Yep,” I said. I move to the fridge and pull out a lemon and grab the honey and move to sit back down. “Now that Steve’s gone, I’m free to buy any grocery I want.” I didn’t miss that little smile when I mentioned Steve, but I also didn’t comment on it. There are certain rules one must abide by before asking personal questions. So, the agent and I fixed our tea the way we liked before taking quiet sips. “So…” I start. “What brings you here?” The agent takes another drink of her tea before shifting as if uncomfortable. “Oh, God,” I said. I covered my mouth with a hand. “Steve didn’t manage to get himself killed did he?” “Not exactly – ” “Steve, Steve, Steve.” Distress. At this rate, I’ll have gray hairs and a billion wrinkles before Steve begins to form laugh lines. “Steve is alive!” The agent burst. Then she cleared her throat. “There’s been a situation yesterday, where our colonel threw a dummy grenade. Steve jumped on top of it, completely unaffected by the fact he could’ve died.” This woman was going to be my sister-in-law someday. I could tell just by the overly fond tone she was using describing this “incident”. That is, she would be if I didn’t kill Steve the next time I saw him. “Really?” I feign interest. If she knows my true plan, she’ll protect him. “I believe I’m getting off track here,” Agent Carter says. “Right, look – Agent – ” I start. “Mm,” the agent spit in her tea. “Call me Peggy, please. It’s only right.” I handed her a napkin. “Only if you call me Madi, Peggy…” “You’re the only other person in Steve’s family, am I right?” I nod. “Well, not exactly. My boy-fiancé is his best friend. They’re practically brothers. But he’s…overseas right now.” Peggy looks down, picking up on my hesitation. She gave me a moment to relax before looking back up. “He and Steve are both wonderful gentlemen for serving your country.” I nodded once more. “And I’m sure you know Steve tried to enlist five different times before he got accepted?” “You’re preaching to the choir, Peggy,” I said. “Are you curious as to what made it possible for Steve to be accepted just recently?” “Yes.” “Steve was selected to be a part of a certain government project.” This caught my interest. “Now, officially I’m not supposed to tell you what I’m about to, but since you’re Steve’s only remaining family, it’s right you know. This is Project Rebirth.” Peggy pulled out a file from under the table and I took it, flipping through the files and notes. I listened as Peggy explained everything she knew, occasionally asking a question or adding a comment. “Wow. I always knew Steve was special, but all this? Woo…” I said. “I understand it’s a lot to take in at the moment,” Peggy said. “And I’ll be happy to bring you to speak with the doctor who created the serum if it will make you feel any better about this.” “You know this guy?” I ask, pointing to a photo of an old guy. It was major coincidence that he was the same old guy who stared at me at the World Expo last week. “That’s the doctor, yes,” Peggy said. I debated my options then asked Peggy if she would spare me five minutes. Then I quickly cleaned myself up and got dressed. Peggy then led me down to a car, which drove us around Brooklyn a few blocks.

The car stopped in front of an antique store. I followed her inside curious as to what it was we were doing there. “Wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?” An old lady called with a smile. “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella,” Peggy said. I didn’t think too much of the exchange before the elder moved behind the counter. Peggy then disappeared behind the counter. I stared after her. After a moment, Peggy poked her head around the corner with a steely expression. “Well come on.” I scurried to catch up to her, and she led me through a bookshelf that led to a lab. “Cripes,” I said as I took in the space around me. This foreign material was ruffling my feathers and not in a good way. The halls were empty, save for Peggy and myself, as we wandered further into the secret hallway. A few steps later, Peggy pulled open a big white door and led me through it. “Doctor,” Peggy said. “I have someone here who’d like to speak with you.” I move to stand by Peggy once more and then my eyes lock with the eyes of the man from the expo. His stare softened as a bittersweet expression overtook his features. I move to him slowly and soon, we’re standing directly in front of each other. “Hallo,” the doctor said. I detected a German accent. “I am Dr. Erskine.” I shake his hand. “I’m Madison Rogers; I’m Steve’s younger sister…” “Steven is good man.” “He is.” I then explain that Steve’s my brother and that if he dies, it won’t be just him getting buried. It was something that made the doctor chuckle lightly over, which made me upset. Before I could get too angry, Erskine explained that what I said reminded him of his niece, and once again, he was wearing a bittersweet expression. “What happened to her?” I asked once I fully recognized the expression. Steve had the same look for weeks after our mother passed away. “Tuberculosis.” “My mother died from that,” I said. “I know how it feels… I’m sorry.” “You look exactly like her.” “Oh.” Awkward. “I’m sorry.” Erskine shrugged and turned away. I was unsure if I was supposed to leave or not. I stood still and looked around the lab, noticing that there wasn’t any other person present. It was just Erskine and I. I swallowed hard and moved to stand next to the doctor as he shuffled through papers. “Knowledge is power, Ms. Rogers.” The doctor moved and opened up a case that held eight vials of a blue liquid. “You are a great person from what Steven says,” the doctor mused. I feel a chill run through me. “I originally started developing this as a cure for my niece, but it just never worked. Eventually, the wrong people began to spread word of my formula though, and that’s how Johann Schmidt heard of it. I will be using six on Steve, but I fear what will happen to the remaining two vials.” “What are you talking about?” I ask. “Do you think something will happen to them?” “I know Schmidt,” the doctor responded airily. “I have a feeling something bad will happen tomorrow.” I open my mouth to argue against him when he grabs a vial and all but shoves it at me. I take it so it won’t fall and the doctor tells me to hide it, which I dumbly do. Dr. Erskine then started to shoo me out, telling me to never come back. I couldn’t even come tomorrow to see that Steve was okay. Not that I wanted to anymore. Not when I had this vial of the supposed super-soldier serum with me currently. I was numb and too in shock to really discuss it with Peggy. I knew I couldn’t tell her yet. When she dropped me off back at my apartment, she promised Steve would be home tomorrow evening. Then she told me to rest because I was looking a little pale before leaving. As soon as she did, I set the vial on the kitchen counter and stared at it. I had to hide it until Erskine came back to his senses and asked for it back. “Yep, hide it,” I tell myself. “But where?” Break-ins were very rare, but even still. Imagine if this serum got into the enemy’s hands. My heart began thudding in my ears and then my mind goes fuzzy. Time seemed to go slowly as I paced through the apartment, searching for the toolbox that Bucky left here.

Once I found it I grabbed a flathead screwdriver and a hammer and rushed to my room. I scanned my room and rushed over to my nightstand and moved it to the side before stabbing the flathead into the floor, and using the hammer to get it further under the floorboard. After the floor was opened, I carefully set an old dishtowel in there and rested the serum on top of it, before securing it with a second towel. I carefully moved the floorboard back into place, and then the nightstand.

Nobody else would ever know it was here.

#powerless #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #the first avenger

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fireandgloryrpg · 7 years ago

Photo

Congratulations PJ and welcome back! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Dorian Rhoads with the faceclaim of Grant Gustin in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

!! tw: death mention !!

Out of Character Information:

Name: PJ

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 20

Timezone: EST

Activity: I do work full time and I typically work the afternoon shift, so most of the time I’ll be able to get on either in the morning or early afternoon but the bulk of my activity will be at night, typically after 10:30-11 PM. On my days off, however, it’s fair game.

Original Character Application:

Name: Dorian Rhoads

Age and Birthday: 23; 11/11/94

Faceclaim: 1) Grant Gustin 2) Dacre Montgomery

Heritage: Son of Apollo (Roman)

ABILITIES: Enhanced reflexes, peak archery ability, photokinesis

Affiliation: First Cohort

Headcanons:

1) Dorian has been writing and playing music since he was in the first grade. It started out in his music class playing the recorder, as he began to write simple melodies, and continued into middle school when he picked up the saxophone in the school band. He worked with his band director to start feeling out other instruments, having an insatiable desire to learn as much as he could about not only the rudiments of playing as many instruments as he could get his hands on, but also composition and theory. By the time he graduated high school, he’d picked up the saxophone, clarinet, various percussion instruments, guitar, piano, and he’d even joined the school choir.

2) Dorian’s fighting style consists almost exclusively of playing defensively. Being naturally agile, his strategies revolve around wearing down his opponents by dodging and dipping around their attacks until they get tired out, at which point he shifts to offense. In close range combat he prefers twin Pugio and the occasional Gladius, and for long range combat he arms himself with a bow and arrows.

Biography:

!! tw: death mention !!

Dorian was always a kind soul. From the day he was born he was always smiling at people, some he’d never even met before. His parents taught him that whatever he put out into the world would eventually come back to him, so he did everything he could to be a good person. Most of the time he’d translate whatever positive energy he had into music and lyrics, having been playing the guitar as well as many other instruments from a young age.

Dorian was born in Greenpoint, New York and moved to Queens when he was five. He lived a middle class life, taking what was given to him and not taking any of it for granted. Growing up his mother was a massive influence on his music taste, driving him to pick up a guitar and countless other instruments. It was odd actually, the fact that he could pick up any instrument and gain a loose grasp on how to play it within an hour. Something about making music brought him a feeling of joy that nothing else in his life had. It started out with the guitar but by the time he’d gotten to middle school and he’d been introduced to their symphonic band, his repertoire expanded to include the saxophone, percussion, and even the piano in the jazz band. By high school he’d been recognized by the school’s band director as one of, if not the, most talented musicians they’d encountered in years.

By the time he graduated high school he’d filled six different notebooks with various pieces of music written for various instruments. It was clear that he had a gift, and the representatives at Berklee College of Music had certainly taken notice of that. Dorian himself had heard nothing but good things about the school from his band director with whom he’d grown extremely close to over the years and it quickly became his dream school. The interview and audition processes were a breeze for him and it wasn’t long before he could consider himself an official student of Berklee College of Music in the class of 2016, majoring in Contemporary Writing and Production.

The Summer before his first year at Berklee, however, it seemed fate had other plans for Dorian’s future. A vacation to San Francisco with his mother and stepfather seemed like exactly what the family needed before Dorian would be shipped off to school, but the reality was that it was the decision that would prove to be their undoing. They decided to take a hike up Land’s End, a seemingly harmless idea for a little family fun, but it wouldn’t be long before things took a turn for the worse. To any passersby, it would look like the family had stumbled upon a mother bear at the wrong time, but Dorian saw a completely different scene. A hulking Minotaur burst through the trees and claimed the lives of his parents before sending Dorian over a cliff, plunging him to a watery grave. When he made contact with the water everything went black, and in what seemed like minutes he found himself in an infirmary in an unknown location. When the doctors noticed that their patient had finally come to, they were quick to run to his bedside. He had more questions than they’d ever have time to answer, but the answers he did receive weren’t ones he wanted to hear. His parents were dead. Killed by a beast Dorian had never even seen before. He was only alive by the grace of the gods, as they told him. He was brought to where he resided, Camp Jupiter, by the Roman god Apollo, Dorian’s birth father. It was so much more than he could ever process, and the days that followed were some of the hardest of his life. His entire world had been turned upside down, his future in shambles.

Once he’d finally been able to regain his bearings, he met with the Praetor and discussed his options. It was then that he decided to remain at Camp Jupiter to embrace his demigod heritage and train in the Legion, vowing to train as hard as he could in an effort to never again allow a tragedy such as what he’d experienced to befall him or anyone he cared about. Time passed relatively quickly, weeks turning into months, turning into years until his dedication to his vow paid off, landing himself in the First Cohort.

Para Sample:

The sun hadn’t even gotten the chance to rise before Dorian was awake. He never allowed himself to sleep in, always making his way to the training grounds before they got too busy. He liked as much solitude as possible while he warmed up; it eliminated distractions and distractions were not a thing Dorian could afford. He had to maintain his focus on the task at hand and prepare himself for the day as efficiently as possible. Bow slung over his shoulder and twin Pugio strapped to his belt, he trudged down the path that lead to the training grounds in silence, breath visible in the bone-chilling air.

“Pick up the pace, Dorian!”

His attention was drawn away from the scenery as his mother’s voice called out to him. The warm Summer sun warmed Dorian’s face as he jogged ahead to meet his parents. He was far too easily distracted by his surroundings, causing him to lag behind a fair amount.

“Sorry, sorry.” he muttered, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. “Can’t blame me for gawking, can you?”

“You can gawk all you want when we reach the end of the trail.” his mother insisted, taking a much needed sip from her water bottle before securing it into the pocket of her backpack. “Michael’s already a fair distance ahead of us. C’mon, time to make up for lost ground.” She motioned for him to follow as he began jogging ahead, Dorian quick to follow.

Thunk. The sound pierced the air as Dorian’s arrow found its target, hitting the stack of hay dead center. Another arrow knocked, a slow, calculated breath. The arrow loosed and flew through the air, splitting the previous arrow down the middle. There was a moment of hesitation, chest steadily rising and falling as his gaze remained transfixed on the target. Something felt off. He couldn’t place it, but something was itching at the back of his mind. He shook his head, choosing to push the thoughts aside as he made his way toward the target to retrieve his arrow.

The sun had already begun to set, the sky a mixture of soft shades of blue. There was an eerie quiet that had set upon the wilderness as the three made their way down the trail. Suddenly, the sound of a roar off in the distance made them stop in their tracks.

“What was that?” Dorian asked, looking to his parents and hoping for an explanation.

“I’m not sure,” Michael answered, peering into the woods, eyes squinted in an attempt to see better. The sound of galloping grew louder and louder, the patriarch protectively stepping in front of his family before a beast ten times the size of any bear burst through the trees.

“Dorian!” The sound of his name ripped him from his blacked out state, finding himself straddling his sparring partner with his fist raised, ready to deliver a final blow. His chest heaved as beads of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek, arm slowly falling to his side.

“I–I’m sorry.” he muttered as he pulled himself to his feet, outstretching an arm to help his partner to his. He could feel the disappointed stare of his friend burning into the back of his head, finally turning to meet her gaze.

“I think it’s time for you to call it a day,” She suggested, arms crossing over her chest as she glanced over Dorian’s shoulder to make sure his sparring partner was okay. As much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’m getting a little tired anyhow.” He agreed, turning toward the man he’d almost knocked out cold. He opened his mouth to speak, but the male quickly cut him off.

“Dude, it’s fine. We all have our bad days. I’m fine, I swear.” He insisted, offering the son of Apollo a reassuring smile. “I’ll just have to get you back next time.”

The tease got a gentle chuckle out of Dorian, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

#accepted #Dorian Rhoads #death mention tw #tw death mention

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sdsuconcertchoiritaly · 5 years ago

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Day 4: Florence, Part 3 - New Year’s Eve 🎆

I wake up this morning exuberant despite not sleeping for as long as I would have liked. Breakfast in the hotel restaurant features just about anything you can think of: pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, yogurt, cereal, salad, roasted tomatoes, pastries, exotic fruit juices, and on and on. The coffee is especially good and much needed.

Today‘s itinerary consists of a couple art galleries: le Gallerie dell’Academia and le Gallerie Degli Uffizi. We start the morning with a 20-minute walk to get to le Gallerie dell’Academia, famous as the home of Michelangelo’s David. A new local guide, Alissandra, meets us at the hotel. She and I talk quite a bit over the course of the morning and I really enjoy her; we’ll see a bit later on that she has some spunk when it comes to dealing with other tourists and groups trying to encroach on our space or interrupt her presentation.

We pass through some familiar areas on the walk to the gallery, heading further north of il Duomo than we’ve been so far. We pass by the former Medici mansion on the way, and Alissandra tells us about how the Medici family—one of the major ruling families of Florence throughout the last 500 years—were first merchants, then bankers, and then politicians, quietly amassing wealth and power over generations. (Many members of the family are buried in the Medici chapel in the nearby church of San Lorenzo.)

The line of people waiting to enter the gallery without a reservation stretches around the entire block. We wait for just a few minutes before entering—one of the advantages of traveling with a group and having everything booked in advance. We stop briefly in one of the first rooms so Alissandra can tell us a bit about Michelangelo’s sculpting method, which deviated in some significant ways from his contemporaries. Notably, Michelangelo did not make plaster prototypes for his sculptures, and he was incredibly particular about the marble he used (so much so that he had a select group of men at the marble quarries who were allowed to handle his marble).

We round the corner into a wide corridor and there is David, standing 15 feet tall at the end of the long room under a frosted glass dome. There are crowds at his feet on all sides. Alissandra tells us that Michelangelo was originally commissioned to create a statue of David to stand on a flying buttress atop the cathedral, but the project was scrapped due to expense before Michelangelo finished his sculpture. This explains some of the strange proportions of David’s body: The hands and head are subtly larger than normal so they could be seen in proper proportion from far below. Given his intended placement high above the streets of Florence, it’s also strange that David’s features are so detailed—shadows in his pupils; veins in his neck, arms, and hands; creases on his leather sling; cuticles on the fingernails and toenails; exquisitely detailed musculature. This level of detail would never have been seen, but this perfectionism is part of Michelangelo’s signature style. David took two years to complete, and Michelangelo was just 26 years old.

We examine David from all sides as Alissandra tells us more about him. Frankly, I’m enamored. He is strikingly beautiful. Magnetic. I can’t look away. I switch lenses to get a few better close-up shots, trying to capture all this in my memory.

It almost seems silly now to go to another art gallery this afternoon, since I know nothing I see will live up to David’s perfection. After some more browsing, we walk a few minutes to Piazza Della Signoria where we break for lunch. Our group heads across the Arno river to find lunch. Problem is, most places aren’t serving food until noon and it’s about 11:30. We do find a restaurant with a lovely four-course breakfast and have a late brunch overlooking the river, directly across from the Uffizi. It’s quite a bit less tourist-y on this side of the river, and there are far fewer people in the streets.

We meet back at Piazza Della Signoria after lunch, near a copy of David that stands where the original stood for several centuries in the open air. The Uffizi Galleries are just off the square. “Uffizi” means “office,” since this building was originally constructed as government offices. The courtyard at its center houses statues of many of the great artists whose work is featured within. We enter through security and climb several flights of stairs to the top floor where the exhibits live in a series of large rooms off a U-shaped corridor lined with dozens of Greek and Roman sculptures. The exhibits are arranged in chronological order, beginning with Medieval art and the early Renaissance continuing through the eighteenth century.

I’ll be honest: Not many of the exhibits were very compelling to me, as beautiful as I suppose they were. If I had a dollar for every depiction of the Annunciation or Madonna with Child on display, I’d probably have been able to pay for admission to the gallery. There are a few pieces that I’m excited to seek out, most notably Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. The sculptures in the corridor get most of my attention, since Greek and Roman mythology and sculpture as a medium are more interesting to me than Medieval Christianity. The ceiling in the corridor is divided into a seemingly endless series of uniquely decorated panels, some of which feature landmarks or historical figures from Florence. It’s rather warm up here, and my morning coffee is wearing off, so my attention and good humor begin to wane.

Sylvie and I get separated from Miranda and Cari somewhere near the exit, and we head back to the hotel to rest and regroup for the evening, making a stop to pick up a couple bottles of wine on our way. Back at the hotel, I sort through my photos of David and nap for about an hour before our appointed meeting time with friends to kick off our New Year’s Eve celebration.

My hotel room becomes our pregame spot, since the room is nice and our balcony is plenty roomy. Friends begin rolling in, each with their own bottle(s) of wine or bubbly. We drink some wine and talk and laugh while Italian music videos play on TV in the background. Having sufficiently inebriated ourselves, we head out to the city center. Our final group is myself, Miranda, Sylvie, Micah, Emily, Lauren, Ted, Sylvia, and Lizzie.

To ring in 2020, there are evidently 20 different celebrations happening in 20 piazzas across the city, each featuring different music or entertainment. We start at Piazza del Duomo outside the cathedral. We get pizza to go from a small restaurant and make friends with a few Italians while waiting in line for the restroom downstairs (they speak no English, which adds to the fun). A crowd is gathering in front of the cathedral where a gospel choir begins performing shortly. We’re in amongst the crowd now, and we stay to enjoy their first two songs.

From there, we walk to Piazza Della Signoria, making a couple stops along the way to sing along to some American music playing in the streets and to grab a round of beers from a small dive bar. There’s plenty of room in the piazza for us to get right near the front of the stage under the fortress at the south corner of the square. Many more people will arrive over the next hour or so leading up to midnight, and we’ll soon move further back since the speakers are very loud so close to the stage. There is a light show set to house music happening on the facade of the fortress. A projector from the top of the building across the square beams an elaborate display onto the facade, weaving the windows and lines of the bricks into a kaleidoscope.

The light show continues until 11:00pm, when a cadre of acrobats take the stage, dancing and contorting their bodies in the air using ropes, hoops, silks, and all manner of harnesses. A few minutes before midnight, emcees greet the crowd and start the countdown. The piazza is packed now. As 2020 officially arrives, locals are passing out cups of champagne seemingly conjured from nowhere. After joyfully greeting those around us and taking a few photos, we move toward the hotel, migrating slowly with the crowd. In Piazza Della Repubblica (and everywhere else along the streets) there are firecrackers and small fireworks going off among the masses of people.

Back at the hotel we find a few choristers and Dr. Diddle, who were partying in the lobby with some champagne. (Evidently a few folks weren’t comfortable being out on their own tonight.) We wish everyone “Buon Anno!” and head upstairs for bed. By now it’s 1:00am, and I clean up the remnants of our earlier revelry and pack up my luggage in preparation for our departure to Venice in the morning.

Steps: 17,447

Miles: 9.0

#corodisdsu #sdstate #studyabroad #florence #newyearseve

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5hfanfiction · 8 years ago

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Family

Lauren’s POV

30 days. That’s how long I had to decide whether or not I wanted to remain married to my wife of 13 years.

She filed for divorce only 3 weeks ago. The trials had gone smoothly and all, we’d split everything. I’d take the house we have in Toronto, considering her job was most likely going to move her somewhere else, permanently.

The kids were going with me. All 6 of them would stay in Toronto at their same schools, in their same neighbourhood. Neither of us could bare to see our children struggle with starting over in a new city. It took a lot of convincing but my wife knew it’d be best they stay in their hometown.

She’d stay with us on weekends, all holidays, and any off-time her job let her have, provided she called me first to double check we’d be available.

I keep telling myself that I should be happy. My wife was getting what she wanted, to be free and off to make music and be a singer and go on tours. The moment I finished my vows, and put that ring on her finger, a promise had been made, to make sure she was always happy. However, every single fibre in my body knew that things would never be the same again, and that scared the shit out of me.

Usually, a couple would get a divorce when they realize they’re no longer in love with each other, but this was definitely not the case. I had no fucking say in my wife leaving me to pursue her career. We’ve never fought, neither of us ever cheated, neither of us are abusive, from what I’ve collected over the past years, we were the perfect couple, yet here I am, still scratching my head to find out why my wife has decided I am no longer what she needs.

“Are you coming to Luke’s play tonight?” my eldest daughter of thirteen years, Cameron, asked me, as she peeped her head through my bedroom door.

I totally forgot. Luke has his play tonight. He’d been practicing for his school’s production of The Little Mermaid ever since he saw the poster up in the hallways. Tonight, I had originally planned to stay at home, lock myself up in my bedroom and cry until I finally understood Camila’s reasoning for leaving me.

“It completely slipped my mind, what time does it start?”

“6pm, but Mama and I are heading off a bit earlier, to grab Luke some food, and calm him down before the show.”

“Oh, are you taking any of your siblings with you?”

“Actually,” she dragged out uncomfortably, “Mama was hoping you could take all of them, she said she wanted us to have some private time to talk about the divorce.”

My poor girl. Cameron’s been with us through everything. On the days Camila and I had university classes at the same time, and it was too short notice to drop her off at a babysitter or daycare, we took the then toddler to our lectures. She had lived with us for four years in our cramped, off campus apartment. When we decided to get married, the priest carried her while the ceremony took place. She’s our babygirl, no matter how old she gets.

“God, come here,” I whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I know you don’t understand what’s happening or why it’s happening, and if I’m being honest, I don’t either. All I know is it doesn’t matter if your mama is off in Rome to produce an album or in London to write a song, I’m always going to be here for you. It’s always going to be me and you, you and me, always. Please don’t be too harsh on your mom tonight okay?”

“How can I not be harsh? She’s abandoning us!” she wailed.

“Camz, I get it, you have every fucking right to be mad, but just try,” I tried to calm her but I knew she was long gone.

There was a quick knock on the door, before my soon to be ex-wife stuck her face in.

“Since when was swearing in front of our children condoned? Ren are you ready to go? I want to be at least 30 minutes early.”

“Sure, let’s go, but please, stop calling me Ren!”

I understand how it’s easy to think it’s always been like this. As if it’s great that Camila’s leaving, since the kids clearly favoured me over her, you know, as if maybe Camila was some kind of step-mom that none of the kids could care less for. That was miles away from the truth.

The Jauregui-Cabello’s have always been a tight knit family. We had dinner together every single night, and all of us could talk to any of us about anything. We were just perfect. We were a family filled with love.

Camila read all the three younger ones a story every night, and she taught the three older ones how to play guitar and piano, how to skate, how to make great sandwiches. Camila and I played equal parts in our kids lives, which was the main reason the divorce was a surprise. I mean, is chasing a career that’d only last a couple years (considering Camila’s 31) a valid reason for leaving your wife and 6 kids?

Your wife and 6 fucking kids?

Originally, when we sat down and discussed the divorce, I told myself I’d stay calm, for the kids of course, but I’m no longer calm, I’m fucking pissed.

Soon, my anger had dissipated to sadness, followed by desperation. How in the world will I raise 6 kids without my Camz?

***

Cameron’s POV

“Now we can walk, now we can run, now we can stay all day in the sun. Just you and me, and I can be, part of your world.”

Amazing. The crowd was on their feet once the choir finished Part of Your World, the final song in their production. My Mama handed me a few roses to toss on stage, one of which purposely hit Luke in the stomach, followed by me screaming “That’s my little brother! Love you Lukey!”

Once the crowd settled, my family and I strolled into the foyer, talking with other kids parents as we waited for our little actors to come out from backstage.

The moment I saw the dark brown curls peeking out from the door leading to the behind the scenes action, I rushed over, encompassing my little brother in my trademark ‘I can’t breathe’ hug.

“You were the best Eric I’ve ever seen! And that fake kiss with you and Anna was perfect!”

“Thanks Cam, do you think Mom liked it?” he smiled cheekily.

“Of course she did!”

“But did, well- did Mama like it?”

My heart dropped.

The kid was so deep in denial with the divorce. I couldn’t blame him though, the only person who could see the divorce coming was Camila. That bitch. Three weeks ago, Camila was my mother and I loved her, I confided in her, I trusted her, and she turns around and leaves our family like this. God, I was so glad Mom had custody.

“Baby, you were amazing!” Speak of the devil. She smiled. It looked real, but at this point I really couldn’t decipher true from false.

“Lulu I am so proud of you, you worked so hard and the production was incredible. Maybe you’ll get me a ticket for your Broadway show someday?” That right there was how I determined who was the better parent. Luke’s eyes lit up at how my mom used his nickname, the proud and hard work card, and his love for theatre all in one.

I found myself trying to remember when Mama could do that, because I knew there were multiple times that she could make us happy using only her words. But her words lately haven’t necessarily put grins on our faces.

***

Luke’s POV

All you could hear were knives scraping against the roast beef or the plates. Occasionally, someone would take a sip of water, then, all you could hear were their gulps. Mama tried to strike up conversation with my younger siblings.

“So, CJ how was kindergarten today?”

“I made cookies with my class, and then hit a little boy for telling me it was yucky to have two moms, then I told him that soon I’d only have one.” the second youngest concluded, digging her face back into her dinner as if it were just another day.

“Okay, we’ll talk about that later, how about you LJ? Is grade two treating you well?”

“Well, we’re doing our butterflies unit right now and I saw one of the girls in my class step on the monarch butterfly we had in our little zoo. She gave me her mars bar so I wouldn’t tell.”

“Wow, alright, where did the mars bar go?” Mama asked, giggling a bit when Lauren Jr. rubbed her stomach and licked her lips.

“How about you Carter?”

He gave Mama a really, really, hard death glare before ignoring her completely. She tried again, but Carter just did the same thing, before picking up his dishes and washing them in the sink, not even bothering to excuse himself before giving Mom a kiss on the cheek and wishing us a goodnight, rushing up the stairs to his room.

“Carter!” Mama called, preparing to chase after him.

“Leave him alone Camila,”

“Excuse me? Cameron you cannot just start calling me by-”

“Don’t you see? None of us are happy anymore! You decided that being free and writing music was more important than your wife and kids! You’re disgusting and you’re tearing our family apart! Aren’t you guys sad?” Cam continued, gesturing to my siblings and I. We all slowly nodded our heads before Mom sent us up to our rooms. I stayed by the stairs, hoping to catch some of the inevitable argument.

***

“Cameron Ally Jauregui-Cabello! What on earth was that?”

“The fucking truth. I’ve been trying to protect them from the divorce but at the end of the day, you chose music over us and that hurts. It hurts all of us.”

“Lauren? Do you have anything to say?”

“Thank you, Camz, I wish I had an older sister like you when I was Luke’s age. Go to bed baby, you’ve got soccer practice tomorrow morning. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I heard Cam’s footsteps approaching but before I could stand up to run to my room, she had already caught me, and intertwined our hands, leading me upstairs.

“Wanna sleep with me tonight bud?”

I nodded, before turning my attention to Carter’s bedroom opening, to ask if he could join us, which we obviously accepted, followed by LJ peeping out her head from her bedroom, asking the same thing.

We all crawled into Cam’s huge bed, and she sang to us a bit until we drifted off.

Give me reasons to believe, that you would do the same for me, and I would do it for you, baby I’m not moving on, I’ll love you long after you’re gone. For you, for you, you will never sleep alone, I’ll love you long after you’re gone, and long after you’re gone, gone, gone.

AN// ciao amigos. so i wrote this first chapter a reaaaallllyyyy long time ago (june) and decided to make it a series because i wanted to get back into writing. rereading the chapters i made back then, i realized how eerily similar the divorce situation is to camila leaving. so basically i’m a psychic who can unknowingly tell the future (camila leaving for music, the family/5H asking her to stay, camila being selfish and snakey, etc.) as we venture through this fictional journey, i just want to clear this up: i do not like camila. she’s a selfish human who is really good at playing the victim and making people feel bad for her, when in reality, she just used 5H to boost her career. i understand the whole “she was unhappy in 5H blah blah blah” she should’ve just said that, rather than making her team create multiple narratives to make her seem like the good guy. wattpad link: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/i8mmphRXAz -z

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #family #submission

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ashswritingplace · 7 years ago

Text

Escape

Here’s another short story, this one about a cloning experiment. I had this idea years ago and only ever wrote a prologue, so I decided to expand upon it, and add a steampunk theme.

Escape

The sound of the ticking clock echoes throughout the empty room. The waves bounce off of the countertops and shining flasks, the spotless floor and the silver syringes, landing into my ear like an onslaught of rhythmic alarms. I thought, if ever I would end up in a laboratory, it would look so much less cliché. For a moment, I am more upset at the banality of my situation than the severity of it.

Cautiously, I rise from my thin bed. The scratchy blankets reach for my hair, which is currently down and curling against my back. Annoyed, I move to tie it up, but realize I do not have my hairpins and clips. It appears as though the maids will not be able to come to me if I call for them, so, defeated, I let my hair drop irritatingly over my eyes.

I am in a hospital gown. This both confuses and offends me: I have no recollections of checking myself into a hospital, and the speckled grey of the shoddy fabric makes my naturally pale skin look even sicklier. Perhaps, I consider, I was too ill for even the castle apothecaries, and they had to send me away.

There is another bed in this room. It is identical to the one I was on, and on it, a girl rests. She is dressed in a similar grey gown, and her dark brown curls drape over her shoulder and spill onto her childlike face. She is the result of bred and pampered beauty, the heir of nobility. For a moment, I watch her chest rise and fall with her subconscious breaths. She is completely unaware of me, the spitting image of her, watching her.

I don't have time to wonder where this twin of mine came from, or why she is here. I break my gaze by looking around the room again for some kind of clue as to why I am here. This hospital is void of any medics. The various colored liquids on the countertops ominously bubble to themselves. Haphazardly strewn across the countertops, numerous scientist tools glisten in the harsh candlelight coming from the lanterns in the room. Thrown between the tools and liquids is a black, leather-bound book, its covers scuffed. I glance back at the other girl before tenderly picking up the book.

It is a journal. A nightmare of a journal, with each entry scribbled in a sloppy penmanship. I flip through a few entries, until I find one about me:

Lady Ambriella currently rests safely in our care. Such a severe struggle was not expected when we abducted her, but we managed to overpower the persistent lady. Her wounds, though not fatal, will need careful observation. I do look forward to what will become of this.

Struggle? I cannot recall an abduction, though I am sure that is something I would not forget. Suddenly filled with a hunger to find out more, I ravenously read on, to a few entries after that:

The experiment was a success. Lady Ambriella and her clone both sleep peacefully now. The clone reacts to stimuli and functions just as the lady herself. We have finally succeeded in creating a perfect copy of a person, and how fortunate for us, it is someone that will fetch the highest bounty. It will not be long now until we are all incredibly wealthy. Just the taste of our assured riches fills me with such joy. What a prize our little lady is proving to be.

A clone...? Am I being used as a ransom? What despicable human being would—

Then, the most recent entry:

No great researchers are immune to defeat. Today, we came so close to our undeniable success, and all was for naught. The lady and the clone were communicating amicably, until suddenly the clone attacked. She grabbed a knife and stabbed Lady Ambriella, damaging our goods. We were able to pry her from the lady, and that is when the clone turned and attacked one of the researchers instead. We were forced to induce both the lady's and the clone's slumber. We have wiped their memories of this event, and we hope that nothing like this could ever happen again. Our researcher was unable to survive his wounds, and later died in the hospital. Finally, we were successful in human cloning, but we created a murderer.

The journal stops there. My eyes slowly rise from the leather-bound book and crawl towards the girl on the bed a little distance from me. She is my clone. She has tried to kill me. What if she wakes and attempts it again?

Swiftly, I set the journal down, and I scan the room in search of a weapon. I grab a syringe and a pair of medical scissors. Then, I seek a way out of this room.

There are no windows here. The room is bathed in shades of white. The tinkling fire and the ticking clocks form a choir of eeriness. Though the scientist tools and sinister-looking medical substances are foreign to my eyes, I know enough to be wary of the toxins and sharp edges around me. There is a single double door in the room, and beside it, there is some kind of lock. Its gears and springs intertwine intricately, and a narrow hole might be big enough for a key. Taking a look around the room for another time, I wonder where such salvation might lie.

I walk back to my own bed, my eyes glued to my clone. This girl is crafted of my DNA. She is closer to me than any human being could ever be. And yet, she has tried to kill me.

I lay down again. Perhaps, I allow myself to hope, this is only a terrible dream. When I wake, I will be back at the manor with my parents, the duke and duchess, and I will resume my duties. None of this will have happened.

I fall asleep knowing far better.

жжж

When I do awake, I am staring into my own emerald eyes, reflected in the flabbergasted girl before me. I watch as she looks me up and down, scoffs, then turns away as if to talk to someone else. When she realizes we are alone, she turns back to me. Her voice is icy, accented from the peaceful, green birthplace we take pride in. "Who are you?" It is more a demand than a question, and her gaze, unwavering, would do much to intimidate someone who did not know her tactics.

I see no reason to lie. I reply evenly, "Lady Ambriella Marie O'Hara."

She rolls her eyes. "Your response lacks comedy, and I haven't the time for trivial jests." I know, like me, her vocabulary must expand when she is irritated. She looks sharply back to me and places a fist on either hip. "Who are you?"

I know nothing I say will pacify her, so instead, I silently move away from her. This angers her, as I expected. "Listen here, you brute." She moves to grab at me, but I slip away from her grasp.

"Be silenced," I say. She grows angrier, but before she can start yelling at me, I cut her off. "You ought to look at this."

I walk towards the countertop with the tools and liquids on it. I pick up the book again and hold it out to her. She stares at it for a long time, untrusting, before taking it. I tell her to read it, and hesitantly she does. A part of me wonders if the journal is true, if she truly does not know the atrocities she has committed. But, as her eyes scan the pages of the journal, my suspicions are confirmed, and I watch her expressions twist to those of dread and disbelief.

Her green eyes narrow, then widen, and her lips part as if to protest, but she cannot fathom an appropriate response. By the time she finishes reading all the entries I have already read, her hands are shaking. She throws the book back to the counter and glares at me, suddenly defensive. "You tried to kill me?"

I hesitate. "You tried to kill me."

She backs away from me warily. Despite her twenty years, she looks like a small child in this moment. Seeing her shake so violently sends shivers down my spine. She is unpredictable now, and as a precaution, I clutch the syringe I grabbed earlier in preparation for any attack she might make.

But she does not. She falls, undoubtedly painfully slamming her knees against the pristine stone floors. I can tell she's terrified, and seeing that look on my mirror image is unnerving. For a brief moment, I wonder if I am the one she is scared of or if, like me, she is beginning to question whether she is the real Ambriella at all.

I wonder if, like me, she is thinking of the words of that journal. Our memories of the situation have been erased. How would we know which of us is the original Lady Ambriella, and which tried to murder her? We cannot know why we are here, or how to get out. With these realizations, I can feel the saltwater start to drip down my cheeks, too. I can hear the other Ambriella, her voice soft, terrified, whispering, "I want to get out, I want to get out, I want to get out."

жжж

For a long time, neither of us knows what to do. One thing is for certain: We must get out of here.

The other Ambriella is still crying, so I gently place a hand on her shoulder. She whips around, eyes piercing, and demands, "What are you doing?"

I shush her. "Bri, it is important that we find a way out, before someone might come back."

"Do not call me that, as if you know me," she scoffs. "Get off me."

"I do know you," I say. "I know you better than anyone. Never mind that. We need to find an exit. If we spend all day crying here, the researcher madmen will return, and they will have their way with us. Is that what you want?"

She sniffles quietly, considering my words. Finally, she mutters, "No."

"Exactly." I extend my hand to her. "We have to leave."

She hesitates, but ultimately takes my hand. Once up, we decide to look around the room together. I find nothing new: It is a vacant room we are in, save for the equipment and the two beds. The large doors seem to be the only way out of this place, and the lock beside them is unyielding.

We must search for hours in silence, until Bri collapses onto her bed, exhausted. "I cannot handle this anymore," she announces, throwing a hand dramatically over her forehead.

I am exhausted too, but I know sitting around will not get us anywhere. I walk back to the door lock and fiddle with the gears. There is no key in this room; I've searched all over for one, with no results. I run my fingers over the fine edges, the metallic points lightly digging into my fingertips. As I press on a certain gear, the lock pops, though I notice no discernable different within the mechanism itself.

Bri looks up at the sound. There is a question on her lips, though she does not ask. Instead, she gets up from her bed and walks to the doors. I continue with the lock, until I hear Bri's voice behind me.

"You did it!"

I look up suddenly. Bri is pushing the doors open herself. I look down at the lock in my hands. Had it been so simple all along?

With the doors opened, Bri rushes ahead, down the hall beyond. I jog to keep up with her, and call after her to slow down, to tread with caution. She does not listen to me. Her bare feet beat against the polished floor of the corridor, and I worry that she will alert someone of our presence.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching from down the hall. "Bri!" I whisper sharply, hoping she listens to me now. She stops, pauses to look at me, then seems to hear what I had heard. She freezes, paralyzed, until I walk to her and move her out of the middle of the hall. We still into the nearest room, and only after we've caught our breath do we think to look around.

The lights are dim here, but reflect off the gelatinous substances contained in the many jars lined on shelves. I try to study one of the jars, only to realize there is a part of something, or perhaps someone, inside.

"What are these?" Bri whispers. I want to soothe the panic in her voice, but I do not have an answer.

"You do not suppose they might be... real?" I approach a jar and pluck it off a shelf. It contains what appears to be a brain floating within the jelly. The one beside it on the shelf has a still-beating heart.

I can see that it takes everything she has for Bri not to scream. The shivers crawling up my spine leave an agonizing discomfort throughout my body, too. Suddenly we are both muzzled as we hear the footsteps approaching again. They are right outside the door, and we both must duck. I can hear her jagged breaths, and I can feel her shaking. We wait for torturous seconds, until the footsteps die down, and we are safe.

Bri is frazzled. "What manner of nightmare..." she mutters. I wonder if I look as petrified as she does. I grab her by the wrist and pull her out of the room, in the opposite direction as the footsteps. I drag her through many corridors and rooms, searching for some way out.

We had been wandering for a long while when the lights blew out. The overhead lamps and the lanterns all seem to go out at the exact second, as if stopped by some magic. We are both bathed in blackness, and I cannot help but let out a scream. Bri forcefully puts a hand over my mouth, quieting me. "Imbecile," she spits, "do you want to get us killed?"

Sounds seem to scream in the dark. The ticking of the clock is intensified now, a constant drum straight into my ear. Some animal from within this labyrinthine laboratory lets out a yelp, and somewhere else, a man moans. They are the sounds just eerie enough to be in nightmares, but this nightmare will not end soon. We remain still as statues, not daring to give ourselves away.

Then, Bri starts screeching.

I jump and back away from her. My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, and I just make out her silhouette. I hear someone else near us now, and it sounds as if Bri is fighting with them. My hands reach blindly to support the terrified girl, but as my fingers gently brush her arm, she screams again.

A candle down the hall starts to flicker. Its little light is all I need to realize Bri is wrestling with a man who is grabbing for her wrists. Without thinking, I swipe at the man. He swears under his breath, then seemingly effortlessly, he throws me against the wall. Hefting Bri up, he begins to run down the hall.

It takes me a moment to recover from the impact. When I do, I start after the man and Bri, led by the dim light. He proves too fast, and the floor is too slippery, and I lose them both.

Tears fall furiously from my eyes. Now I am alone in this horrid place, and my clone—or perhaps not-clone—has been abducted. I want to scream, but I have learned my lesson.

I know that I must continue on. I pick myself up and proceed to wander through the dark halls of this prison. Paranoia bubbles inside me, causing me to stop at every sound, at every slight wind.

I do not know how much time I waste in the dark. My legs grow weary, and my face is drenched in a mixture of tears and sweat. Then, I hear a scream from down the hall. It is my own voice, the voice I recognize to belong to Bri. Filled with new energy, I run the rest of the way to her, hoping I am not too late.

In my pursuit, I run into a room. Though it is dark, I can still make out the pale glow of some jars and their colorful contents, some fangs and bones of furry corpses. I squint through the darkness, but can make out scarce more than that.

"Bri?"

I freeze. My eyes scan the room. There is nothing.

"Bri." The voice is behind my ear, and I can tell it is that of my lost companion. Cold hands run down my arm, leaving a slimy trail where they touch. The metallic smell of blood assaults my nose. The quiver in her voice as she said our name fills me with great fear. I cannot force my voice to respond.

"They've hurt me," she says. It is clear from her voice that she has been crying. "The bastards have hurt me. Unchain, please, you have to unchain me."

My entire body is paralyzed with fear. I cannot move to help her. I cannot even help myself.

"Bri?" Her voice is a plea, one that is agony to my ears. My lips begin to quiver, my hands start to sweat.

She is tired of waiting for me to answer. "My parents will hear of this," she says. She is directing her emotions into anger, into a hopeful retribution, in order to cope. "I will ensure this place is taken down immediately. I am of nobility, how dare I be treated with such hostility, such—" She is cut off by a loud crack, followed by her own scream. I flinch, hard, not knowing what to do.

"Shut up already," comes an exasperated voice behind her. It is a man's voice, though I cannot see what he looks like. "You complain and complain constantly. I do not care the price your parents are willing to pay for you. It cannot be worth it for this insufferable whining. I should kill you now, while I have the chance. Finally there would be peace, then."

Bri turns sharply. Her newfound confidence scares me. "Like hell you will! Who are you? Where are we? What mad plot have you pulled me through? I demand answers!"

"Shut up!" There is another crack, and another of Bri's screams. She stifles a sob. I shiver.

I can hear the man begin pacing. My breaths are frantic, uneven, and I wonder how he cannot hear them. His dialect suggests that he is from the far North, and I wonder just how far we are from the manor, from home. How long until I can return to my family, my people? How long until this horror ceases?

Beside me, I hear Bri pick herself up. She is silent now, though I know she must be holding back more tears, too.

The man grunts and starts away from us. He mutters something about the lack of lighting, then kicks something metallic. The sound makes both of us jump.

I can feel my paralysis lifting then. I reach out for Bri, shushing her before she can make a sound. I can feel that she is covered in what I pray is not blood. My fingers slowly trail her skin, to the cold cuffs at her wrists, to the chains trapping her in place. When my fingers reach her back, she flinches violently away from me. She has been hurt badly.

From a little distance away, I can hear the man fumbling with something. He manages to light a candle, then moves it towards us. I gasp, ducking out of the light. He manages to not see me, and the relief at that blankets me. He locks eyes with Bri and scoffs. "You are staining our floors," he spits, as if he is not the one to blame for that.

The candle dimly lights his face. I can just make out his features, his dark and greasy hair, his unkempt beard and moustache. He is no one I recognize, just a barbarian that I must get away from, but I cannot leave Bri here, not like this.

Suddenly, I remember the weapons I had grabbed from the other room, the syringe and medical blades. I remove both from where I had hidden them in my brassiere, and I run my shaking hands over them. The scissors are sharp, easily able to cut through human flesh. I cannot know what poison might lie within the transparent vial of the syringe.

I look up at the man again. He is keeping the candle steady, studying Bri's pathetic form. My grasp around my two weapons tightens. Can I do this? If it meant protecting myself—if it meant protecting Bri—could I do this?

Slowly, I make my way towards the man, cautious to stay out of the candlelight. It is some wonder he cannot hear my movements. Bri notices me approaching him. She looks back to the man and starts speaking. I cannot hear her well, but it sounds as if she is only trying to distract him. I send her my silent thanks.

Finally, I am close enough to the man that I could touch him. My body is shaking, and I figure this man must be near deaf to not hear the drumming of my heart. I look at his neck, bare and exposed, and my fingers clutch the syringe. Would it kill him? Can I really kill someone?

Knowing I cannot afford to have a moral argument with myself, I take the syringe and I plunge it into the man's neck. The candle falls to the ground, a part of the wax breaking off. The light flickers off. I can feel the liquid pumping into his bloodstream. Once he recovers from his shock, he is quick, and he moves to grab at me. I toss the emptied syringe and defend myself with the scissors, listening as the blades cut through his hand. I flinch and back away, out of his grasp.

He begins to moan in agony. I am thankful I cannot see his face. I listen for his movements, prepping my blades to defend my life. But the man seems to have stopped. He swats helplessly, but I hear him fall to the ground, still groaning. He sounds as if he is being killed. It is my fault.

In just a few moments, he stops moaning. We are still for a long while. I am too terrified to check for a pulse. I do not know which outcome would be worse: our assailant still being alive, or me being a killer. Regardless, for now, we are safe.

жжж

The shock of the situation finally fades, and I turn my attention to where Bri was. "You are okay now," I say.

I can hear her backing away from me. "You've killed him," she says. Her voice is quiet, desperate, terrified. "It is you, you are the clone, you tried to kill me and you killed that researcher and now you've killed him. All this time you had me quaking, thinking that it was me, that I could ever do something so terrible, but it was you all along!"

"No!" I reach to grab her, but I cannot see, and I miss. She strains against her chains to get further away from me. "No, listen to me. I had to do something, I had to protect. I didn't know what else to do."

"Were you carrying that around to attack me?"

There is no way to answer her question that will make me look any less guilty. Bri understands my silence.

"You wench," she spits at me. "Get away from me. Begone with you. How dare you try to touch me, after all you've done." She pulls at her chains again, but they are too firm, and she is too weak. "For a moment, I trusted you," she whispers.

"But, Bri," I plea, "I didn't try to kill you." Not even I can know that, though, and my voice wavers in my uncertainty. "I was trying to help."

"You can help me by getting the hell away from me." She moves away again, but she is too weak to tug at her shackles much. "Find someone who can take me home."

Her words hurt me. I hesitate, not knowing where I could go, what I could do. I cannot leave; I have to convince Bri—or maybe myself—that I am not a murderer.

I move towards her chains and feel where they are latched onto the wall. I silently curse the darkness as I feel for some sort of lock. I find one, a small one, but the key is much more impossible to find. Bri is ignoring me, lacking the energy to argue anymore.

We must be there for hours. I feel around the entire room, even daring to venture into the halls. I am reluctant to leave Bri by herself again, so I cannot get far. She is still ignoring me, or asleep, or eerily still.

I have no choice but to accept defeat. I fall into a sitting position beside the wall Bri is propped against. She does not stir. I wait a few moments, then call her name. She does not answer me, so I continue to prompt her. "Hey, speak to me, please. I'll go mad if you ignore me now."

“Give up,” she snarls. She sounds exasperated. “We’re going to die. No one is going to help us, and we cannot leave by ourselves. Stop trying to make this better." She stops, chuckles. "Look at me. I’m disgusting and pathetic and I’m talking to a murderer. I just want to die. Kill me already.” She looks up at me. Her green eyes are brimmed with tears. “Kill me.”

I step a cautious step away from her. “Do not speak like that--”

It takes Bri all her energy to stand up again, forcing me out of her way. She grabs at my gown, painting it with red. “It’s what you’ve wanted all along. Just finish what you started.”

I say nothing. She searches my face for something, but she does not find what she is looking for. Then, she melts into my arms, sobbing.

I do not know what to do. I shift awkwardly, then place a hand on her head and pat her gently. "I'm sorry," I mumble, almost inaudibly. Because I cannot take the silence, I continue to speak.

"I cannot stop thinking of Clessia," I say, referring to my mare back at the manor. "I cannot imagine how she is managing without me. She must be so frightened." No response. "I miss Mother's voice. I want her to scold me for something, just to hear her again. I wish I could hear Father's songs when he thinks no one is listening again. I miss my bed, the soft, flowery pillows, my room perfumed with the loveliest lavender. I want to get out of here." I cannot stop myself; I continue speaking. I tell Bri about all the things from back home that I wish to get back to, knowing that she must miss them too. I ramble on and on, the only sound in this godforsaken place. I chuckle for a moment. "I miss the light most of all."

My words are followed by a few moments of silence. Then, "I miss the sun."

I look up. Bri has not moved from her position. She exhales deeply.

"I miss the sun too," I say. "I miss staring at it so long your eyes hurt."

"On a summer day, after Mother has told you so many times to not do that."

"Knowing that, no matter how much you disobey her, you will still come home to a freshly baked strawberry tart."

We both start laughing then. Bri is the first to quiet. She moves towards me, and though I cannot see her, I feel her breath on my face. She must be staring at me. She cocks her head to one side, then says, "We're not too different then, I suppose."

I chuckle again. "You're my clone."

She clears her throat. "You are mine." But her voice is free of malice, and she sighs softly. "Hey Bri?"

"Hm?"

But before Bri can finish her thought, there is a distant sound, like someone approaching. In a few moments, light fills the room. I stare into the lantern for a moment, before thinking to look away. My eyes look over the still man on the floor. He has not moved since we've been here, and he is not breathing. Blood is dried along the wounds on his neck and arms. The syringe beside him is dripping silver.

And then I see Bri. She is squinting into the light too, as if she truly believes it is the sun. Her gown is torn along her back, its fabric stained reddish brown. Scarlet puddles around her, its sources scattered all over her body in different scratches and gashes. Her left arm is bent awkwardly. Her eyes are bloodshot, her cheeks glistening with dried tears. She looks pathetic, and I have to remember that she looks like me.

She comes out of her stupor and looks at me, but looks away soon. With the lights on, I can see her rusted chains, and the places where they rubbed her wrists raw. She says something, but she is too quiet to hear.

"Oh dear."

Both of us look up at the sound of a new voice. There is a woman holding the lantern. Her blue eyes look on at us in terror, and she takes a woozy step back. "What on earth have they done to you?"

Bri starts crying again, and I can feel the hot tears trickling down my cheeks as well. The woman sets the lantern down. She walks to the wall where Bri's chains are, and she fumbles with a ring of keys at her waist. Pulling one, she inserts it into the lock, and Bri's chains fall away with a metallic crash.

The woman's eyes fall over the man, too. No expressions cross her face. She stares a moment, then looks between the two of us. "Lady Ambriella?"

Bri does not move. I reply, "One of us is."

"Which one?" She looks between us. "I must return our lady to Lord and Lady O'Hara. They are so terribly worried."

Bri is silent, terrified. She is too weak to respond.

I reply. "It is she." My words surprise myself, even more than they surprise Bri. She looks bewildered, and her lips part again to protest, but she is not given the time.

The woman gently places a hand on Bri's shoulder, causing her to jump. "My lady," she says, "I am so sorry." She soothes her back, runs her hand through her hair. "I will get you cleaned up right away. Come now." She helps Bri to her feet and starts out of the room. Before she leaves, she turns to me. "You should return to the experiment room. Dr. Hambert will be seeking you." With that, she and Bri both leave.

жжж

I do not know how long it takes me to return to our original room. Everything is untouched, and the leather-bound journal taunts me from the counter. I move to sit on my bed. The one across from me is empty.

I do not know when I stop crying. My tears drench the blankets and pillow on my bed.

"Ambriella?"

Footsteps approach, and a firm hand lifts my skin. I see a short-haired woman standing before me. Her bright eyes are squinted as she looks over me. "What are you doing here?" When I don't respond, she looks to the empty bed. "And where is your clone?"

Your clone.

"Lady Ambriella has been taken to be reunited with her family," I say. I wonder how long it will take me to convince myself.

The woman looks to the journal. "Did Shannon take her?" She pauses for a moment, then looks to me. She silently steps over to me, and without warning, she pulls down my hospital gown. There, on my chest, between my breasts, is the scar of a deep gash. My mind goes back to the journal. ...suddenly the clone attacked. She grabbed a knife and stabbed Lady Ambriella, damaging our goods. I was stabbed. I have to be the original.

"A clone took your place," the woman says. "We have to get you back. We must continue our research on her."

My mind is in an uproar. I shake my head. "No," I say. "Lady Ambriella has returned to where she needs to be. I will remain, and do as you please." My voice is more forceful than I intend.

The woman, perhaps Dr. Hambert, looks me over. Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she nods. "I am glad Lady Ambriella will be going home. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we will continue testings." She nods again, and her heels click against the floor as she starts out.

Alone again, I walk to the journal. I pick it up again, and I pen the last entry:

Lady Amrbeilla was taken back to the manor today. The clone remains, and testing will continue as normal tomorrow. The experiment was undeniably a success.

#short stories #writeblr

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