#THE GOLDEN PLAINS SCENE PLEASE TAKE ME

[eloves-writes]

🤍 with Max verstappen. 🌶🌶 pretty pretty please

i really really enjoyed writing this one🫡🫡

song lyric prompt: “oh i’ve never done it, let’s make it cinematic” naked in manhattan ~ chappell roan 🤍

warnings: loss of virginity, sex, fingering, swearing

minors dni

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“you are serious? you haven’t done it before?”

you shook your head.

max looked at you incredulously. he was supposed to be helping you practice different circuits on the racing sim since you were new to the team, but as it had gotten later at the redbull factory, you’d ended up sat on the floor next to the sim talking to max endlessly about your careers as he demonstrated his best laps for you. conversation was easy with him; as intimidating he seemed on track, he was actually very talkative once he got started, and you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t listen to him talk for hours. whilst having a crush on your teammate wasn’t technically against the rules, it felt like a slight misstep, even thought it was practically impossible when max was so fucking hot. after a particularly impressive lap time, he’d remarked that that feeling was ‘better than sex’, and you replied jokingly saying you wouldn’t know, which had lead you here.

“you don’t have the time? you don’t want to?” he probed, apparently more interested in your lack of a sex life than finishing the mock practice session he’d started.

“um, i just haven’t, i guess,” you laughed awkwardly.

“wow,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “you’re very beautiful, you know y/n. not to mention how talented you are on the track.”

“are you trying to tell me something, verstappen?” you joked, completely unserious and not expecting his reply at all.

“no. i’m … offering.”

your face dropped. “what?”

“there’s no one here. if you want to do it, why not do it with me?”

your brain short circuited. 3 time world champion max verstappen had just casually offered to take your virginity. he had an inarguable point; why not do it with him?

“ok,” you said simply, feeling like a complete rookie once again. you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

he was still in the driver’s seat of the sim, a wanting lust in his eyes. he had found you hot since the first time you got into the redbull car and overtook him on a flying lap, finishing the practice session just 2 tenths ahead of him; he had wanted to fuck you since you got out of the car afterwards and teased him about it.

“come here, schat,” he encouraged, motioning to his lap. you carefully stood up and straddled his lap.

“don’t look so nervous. i’m not gonna hurt you. unless you want me to,” he added with a smirk.

“i don’t think i’m there yet,” you laughed, easing into his lap more. “what do i do?”

“well have you kissed someone before?”

you embarrassingly shook your head; you didn’t think any of your teenage ‘kisses’ really counted towards anything.

“ok,” he said nonchalantly, tucking you hair behind your ear. “let’s start there then.”

he pressed his lips against yours, letting you get used to the feeling before you kissed him back, the movement coming to you instinctively. his hands remained firmly on your waist as he deepened the kiss, with his fingertips gripping you tightly as if he needed to hold you there. it felt like a movie scene, kissing him with such passion as the sunset cast golden streams of light through the large window at the other end of the room.

once you seemed equal parts comfortable and needy, max pulled away. “can i take your shirt off?”

“okay,” you replied. he lifted the redbull shirt over your head, revealing a plain but cute blue bra. you were glad you’d at least worn matching underwear, even if they weren’t particularly sexy. max ran a finger under one of the straps.

“can i take this off too?”

you nodded again. nobody had ever seen this much of you before. he expertly unfastened your bra, slowly taking it off you before throwing it to the floor with your shirt. his eyes darkened at the sight of your bare boobs.

“so perfect,” he commented, mostly to himself, before palming one side with his large hand. he gently pinched your nipple, watching it harden beneath his fingers and enjoying the soft gasp it elicited from you.

“take yours off,” you whispered as he continued to play with your nipples. you tugged at the bottom of his matching redbull shirt so he knew what you meant. he smiled at you before obliging, adding it to the growing pile of clothing. his chest was beautiful, toned to perfection but not too muscled, unlike his biceps that were thick from years of vigorous training. you knew he was bigger than you, but this visual confirmation made you involuntarily grind yourself against him.

he took this as a signal that you were ready to go further, helping you out of your jeans and underwear. you felt completely exposed, but it somehow turned you on even more knowing it was max you were exposed to. you sat back onto his lap, starting to worry about getting his jeans damp from your growing wetness. he placed a hand at the top of your thigh.

“i’m going to touch you, ok?” he said, making careful note of your body language and facial expressions in case you were uncomfortable. that was not the read he was getting; you wanted him, badly, and it was obvious.

“ok,” you breathed, his finger tracing the length of your wet cunt.

“all this for me, y/n? pretty girl.”

you murmured in agreement, completely lost in the moment. his fingers moved smoothly against your clit, making you moan out and place your hands on each of his shoulders to stable yourself as he begun to tease your hole, starting by inserting just one finger and pumping it gently in and out of you.

“feels good, max,” you confirmed, whimpering a little.

“going to put another in, ok? get you ready for me.”

he inserted another finger, your pleasure increasing, especially as he angled his hand so the heel of it bumped your clit as he fingered you. you’d touched yourself before, but having max do it was a completely different feeling and you found yourself releasing onto his hand sooner than you thought.

he coaxed you through your orgasm, telling you how good you were and encouraging you to cum until you were so overwhelmed with pleasure you came with a loud moan.

“you like that, schat? huh?,” he said as you came down, brushing your hair back behind your ears.

“yeah,” you managed. you felt unashamed of how needy you were for him.

he took your hand and placed it over his crotch. even restrained against his jeans, you could feel how big his hard cock was.

“that’s what you do to me,” he said, staring intensely into your eyes. “unzip my jeans, schat.”

you followed his order, unbuttoning the top and sliding down the zipper. he nodded, encouraging you to keep going. he moved his hips up so you could slide the jeans along with his boxer shorts down past his ass and push them down his legs just past where you sat. his cock hit his stomach, leaking a little precum from watching you orgasm minutes earlier. he ran a hand over himself, jerking it to show you that it wasn’t scary.

“can i?” you asked, nervous again. max nodded and you copied his movements, your hands much smaller than his.

“ok, baby,” he moaned, moving your hand away. “gonna make me finish before i even fuck you.”

“what do i do?” you asked again, eager to have him inside you.

he instructed you to place your knees either side of him on the race seat so you could hold yourself up, and lined himself up with your entrance. you sank down onto him, gasping at the way he filled you up.

“ok?” he asked, hands finding your waist again.

“yeah,” you replied. “feels weird. good weird.”

max laughed. “you want to start moving?”

you nodded and brought your hips up and back down again, sliding along his cock. “like that?”

“yeah like that. that’s good, baby.”

you did it again, feeling butterflies in your stomach and pleasure building up. max guided you up and down with his strong hands, never looking away from your perfect face and the expressions of pleasure that were gracing it. as he sensed you getting closer, he decided to help you and thrust his hips upward to match the pace you’d set for yourself, which slammed the tip of his dick into your g-spot and you really realised what sex was all about. it felt insanely good, bordering on too much but not crossing the line. max was getting close too; having his beautiful young teammate bouncing on his dick was really working for him, as he continued his praise of you.

“taking it so well, schat. so pretty, you feel so good,” he moaned.

his words pushed you over the edge, another orgasm washing over you and the fluttering of your walls as you came was enough to push max too, and he spilled out inside of you.

you both went still as you came down from your highs, panting and sweaty, yet each of you thought the other had never looked better.

“that was good, yeah?” max asked as you both re-dressed.

“really fucking good,” you laughed. “i see what i was missing out on now.”

he chuckled as he checked the size of the redbull shirt in his hand to determine which was yours and which was his. he threw the smaller one to you and you put it back on.

“you know, if you wanted to make this a regular thing, i would be happy to do that.”

you looked at him and smiled. “sure. thanks, by the way.”

he smiled back. “the pleasure’s mine, really.”

[nataliasquote]

Mustang | cowgirl nat au

Summary: The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind?

Warnings: Natasha is a hot cowgirl, cowboy slang

wc: 4.3k

note: this is for all the cowgirl Nat simps out there (yes you know who you are @katyaromanoffpetrova ). And also for @milfs69420 who drew the inspiration for cowgirl Nat in this scene (i’m obsessed with that drawing no joke). I hope this lives up to expectations!

-⧗-

A loud yell echoed across the grassy plain, rising above the sound of thundering hooves and the distant shriek of a stream train whistle. One lone rider, racing across fields she knew like the back of her hand. Strong thighs squeezed the flanks of the midnight horse beneath her as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her face up to the sky, letting the golden rays of the sun soak into her skin. Not once did her balance falter, years of riding making her feel like an extension of the steed beneath her. Her cheeks started to burn with how hard she was smiling, so she placed both hands back on the reins and kicked her horse to speed up.

There really was nothing that Natasha loved more than riding. It was her escape, her outlet, her way of breaking away from her usual daily duties. Was she out on her horse a bit too often? Her father would say yes. But if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff hated, it was being told what to do.

She’d caught up with the train rolling steadily along the tracks and Natasha leaned forwards, scarlet hair, tied in a single braid, flying behind her from under her hat as she raced beside it, trying to keep up. She could feel the muscles of her horse flexing with every stride they took and the rusted green walls of the carriage were almost in reach of her fingertips if she stretched out towards it. The smoke puffing out of the chimney tainted the air that she breathed in, but she barely noticed it through her euphoria. She knew where this train was headed, towards the larger cities, so she broke away and turned back to her hometown, slowing up as they trotted under the town’s welcome sign.

Most walked their horses through the streets on foot, but Natasha stayed seated, guiding her horse through the swarms of townspeople and down to the large house at the end of the main street. She hopped down and tied him to the fence temporarily, making sure he had enough hay and water before she strolled into the house.

Not even bothering to take her boots off, Natasha waltzed into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. She tossed her hat onto the table and let out a sigh, staring at the small red symbol on the front of her hat.

“Natasha,” a gruff voice called after her. She rolled her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”

“Out,” was all she replied. She didn’t turn around but could feel her father’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. And his disapproving tone was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago, for the opening ceremony.” Without looking at him, she knew how he was standing. Arms folded across his chest as he took up almost the entire doorway. “Yelena was upset you weren’t there.”

Natasha scoffed. “No she wasn’t, she couldn’t care less.”

“I felt betrayed, actually.” Great, now her sister had joined in. “You’re always choosing Liho over me, don’t you feel my pain?”

“I’m sure you���ll live,” Natasha deadpanned, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

But that was a rarity as the mayor’s daughter. Her whole life was scrutinized, and many people disapproved of her non-traditional ways. “Is there anything else required of me? Or can I leave now?”

Yelena appeared in the corner of her vision, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Well, I was going to ask if you would come by the range, seeing as you-“

“Ok, so that’s a no.”

“Natasha, be nice to her please. It’s Yelena’s big day!” Alexei’s voice seemed to be in constant ‘public speaker’ mode, which was fine for pretty much everything except quiet conversations in the kitchen. He was too close, and Natasha scraped her chair back and reached for a glass to fill up from the pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Reluctantly, she offered one to Yelena, who accepted with a soft smile. Alexei took their ignorance of his statement to disappear back to his office, and Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I knew you liked me really.” Natasha deadpanned her comment but Yelena only stifled her giggle behind a sip, the sweet beverage coating her tastebuds deliciously. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. But promise me you’ll shoot this week?”

“I was planning to anyway,” Natasha admitted. “Do you have riding targets too?”

Yelena let out a ‘ha’ and leaned back in her chair, chin tilted towards the window. “What do you take me for, an amateur? That’s like asking if Barton sells beer.”

“Speaking of, fancy a drink?” Yelena gestured to her half full glass with an eyebrow raised. “I was going to go down to Barton’s if you want to join me?”

Yelena thought for a moment, watching a lone ice cube float around her glass. “I would, but I promised Kate I’d meet her at the stables and you know what she’s like if I cancel on her.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha. Ok, so maybe she did feel a little remorse over missing the ceremony, but never would she admit that out loud. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and tell Ma to not wait up for me at dinner. I’ll sort myself out.”

“Roger that,” Yelena gave a mock salute and Natasha just rolled her eyes in jest. She grabbed her hat, slipped it on her head and wandered back out of the door, but not before she slipped a few snacks for her horse. Liho was still waiting patiently for her and he swished his tail as he approached, rather fed up of just standing around in the sun.

As Natasha brushed him down and gave the stable a quick tidy, her mind wandered back to the open grassland. What she’d give to never return home, just riding to her heart's content and staying in whatever town she came across. Or just sleeping under the stars, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the thundering hooves of wild horses echoing behind the mountains on the horizon. She craved the freedom that the cowboys had and the small taste she could get would never suffice; she lusted for more.

With a small threat to Peter, the stablehand, to not hurt Liho, Natasha wandered back into the town centre, stopping off at the ammunition store on her way for a magazine refill. She shot the test targets to pieces purely for the fun of it, knowing her aim was impeccable. The owner just rolled his eyes but let her continue; this behaviour was expected. After all, Alexei was a well respected and slightly feared man, which rubbed off onto his daughters too. And Natasha’s fiery temperament was almost as famous as her father was. No one with any brains would ever challenge her to a duel if they wanted to keep their life.

The redhead’s eyes cast over the centre-most building, the brim of her hat concealing the sign on the front. But she didn’t need words to tell her what it was- she knew her second favourite place like the back of her hand. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she pushed the wooden saloon doors to swing open, hitting the walls beside them with a crack.

With her hat still dipped low, she paused, surveying the entirety of the room in one fast sweep. Partially content with what she saw, Natasha tipped her hat from her head and tucked it under her arm, feeling strands from her messy braid to fall and frame her face. Green eyes darted across every familiar face, occasionally leading to the subtle tug of a smile to play on her lips if she felt particularly fond of someone, but not many had that blessing. She didn’t pay two minds to the rest of the townspeople once she’d locked on the one person who didn’t think she was completely crazy.

Wild yet utterly desirable, Natasha somehow held every single person captive within her presence. The general chattering subsided as she moved between the tables, even the men who spent their days airing their lungs over bottles of brandy and rum paused their drinking to take a good look at her. If Natasha even cared, she’d be repulsed, but noticing the way the men of the town looked at her had become a thing of the past. She would never settle down so why bother?

The red velvet-topped bar stools were smooth under her jeans as Natasha slid onto one, her hat coming to rest atop the wooden bar. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her green plaid shirt and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her forearms with a sigh.

“Didn’t see you at Yelena’s gun range opening today,” the bartender commented as he slid an open bottle of beer in Natasha’s direction. He knew her well, and he should, as her childhood best friend. And Natasha may be unpredictable but her beer choices never wavered.

“Oh don’t tell me you were there too. I swear, if one more person asks me about that I’m going to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Her hand fell to her holster for effect, making the bartender step back, hands raised in surrender. Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked before taking a sip of her beer. “My Pa gave me an earful when I was barely through the door. I don’t see why it matters, Barton, it’s just an opening.”

Clint threw the tea towel he was holding into the sink over his shoulder. “I’m just talking, but she’s your sister, so isn’t it in your duties to go to that kind of thing?”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed look, her brow bone casting a shadow across her eyes in the dim light. “You mean that as her sister, or as the mayor’s daughter? I plan on using the range anyway, so why do I need to show my face now? It’s not even about me.” She puffed out her cheeks and rested her chin on the hand that was placed on the beer bottle rim. “If I was Lena, I’d be happy my sister didn’t show up. She can have the spotlight for a change.”

“Where did you go, exactly?” Clint was the only one who would listen to Natasha’s tales, so he just let her talk whilst he worked. Gave him something refreshing to think about instead of his unruly customers.

“I caught wind of a new group riding out by the Ridge yesterday, so I wanted to check it out. Saw nothing but Ol’ Joe moving his cattle. Swear that man digs for his cannon ev’ry chance he gets.”

“Well, he’s not the best with people,” said Clint, only realising afterwards that he’d just stated the obvious. “Is that what you want though? A group like that?”

Natasha pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of what her future looked like, she knew it involved a lot more open space and a lot less… people. “Not a group, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Nat, you know it’s not safe out there on your own. You need your home, a family.” Clint was family orientated to the core, but the same couldn’t be said for Natasha. “You know it’s even worse for women.”

“I can handle myself,” Natasha scoffed, feeling rather put out by his insinuation. “I don’t need a bunch of asshat guys telling me what to do!

“I know, but-“

“If I wanted an argument, I would have stayed at home,” she pointed out. Clint’s mouth opened before he closed it with a huff, thinking better than to protest again. Natasha’s hands tugged her hair out of her braid, reveling in the feeling of it falling loose around her shoulders.

She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the anxious feeling bubbling low in her stomach. With each passing day, the small town life rattled her and the walls of the village seemed to close in. It had taken root in her chest since she was a child, that feeling of longing never quite subsiding.

Clint moved off to serve customers further down the bar, leaving the redhead lost in her own mind. Slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the glass bottle.

What did she want? Natasha knew how her dreams played out, but Clint was right; where was her stability? The thought of being alone was heavenly, but that was coming from someone who had never truly experienced it. She’d been surrounded by people since the day she was born, and those fleeting moments of freedom with just Liho for company were the best she’d felt.

But what did a future full of that entail? She’d idealised it to the point where she was biased, getting defensive whenever anyone tried to make her see sense. She may not see eye to eye with her father anymore, but the stubbornness she inherited from him was a clear determiner of her roots and more importantly, her home.

A cacophony of whistles erupted from the tables behind her, snapping her out of her spiral and Natasha turned on her stool to take a look at the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Natasha, which was rather uncommon in this town. Most of the women wore skirts, so seeing another in jeans that wasn’t Natasha, Yelena or Kate had heads turning.

Natasha watched the way the stranger’s hand instinctively flew to her holster as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, a bitter contrast to the sun blazed street just outside. The saloon was always kept dark, just the way Natasha liked it, but it did look a bit intimidating from an outsider’s perspective.

Ignoring the outstretched hands of drunk men that grabbed at her from their seats at the closest tables, the woman picked her way through the crowd, her hips swaying in her jeans and brown fringed chaps as she rounded the final table and slumped down onto a stool. Natasha peered at Clint out of the corner of her eye and tried to hide her smile, taking a long sip of her beer bottle as the stranger sat four seats over.

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” The stranger asked Clint, her hat still sat squarely on her head. A strange move in Natasha’s eyes, but it added to the air of mystery around her and the redhead couldn’t help but watch her reflection in the glass opposite.

“I’ve got a couple bottles of whiskey if that’s what you’re after?”

“I’ll get a glass of that, thanks.”

Natasha pulled a face, impressed. “Going for the hard stuff, I see.”

The stranger didn’t turn her head, keeping her eyes down and focussed on her hands that rested atop the bar. “Something like that.”

There was something different about her, something refreshing. Natasha stood up, grabbed her beer bottle and wandered down the bar, now appearing on the seat beside the stranger. She leaned on the bar, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the curve of her hips in her jeans. The stranger’s head moved slightly, trying to get the best view of Natasha that she could.

Clint read his friend’s body language like he was fluent, and quickly swapped her bottles so she was presented with a fresh drink. Natasha waited a couple of seconds before striking up conversation again, not put out by the stranger’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Is this seat taken?”

The stranger shook her head and scooted over, nursing her glass of whiskey with both hands. She was nervous and guarded and Natasha saw the twitch of her fingers that seemed uncontrollable.

“I’ve not seen you before. You not from around here?” Her southern drawl was laid on thick, emphasising the rasp in her voice that came out when she spoke properly. Natasha’s skill set didn’t stop at shooting. She was incredibly proficient at flirting and Clint loved to just stand back and watch her pick her next target that wandered into his bar.

The stranger finally turned to Natasha and lifted her hat from her head, revealing her face and piercing eyes that bore into Natasha’s. “Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?”

Natasha laughed around the rim of her bottle and readjusted her stance, using her movement as a way to take in the woman with a quick flick up and down. “I know my people,” she replied, gesturing to the full tables behind them. Her eyes fell to the stranger’s lips. “And I’d remember a face like yours, darlin’.”

The mysterious woman’s cheeks flushed red and she took a swig of whiskey, welcoming the burn that flooded her chest. The hot feeling racing through her body was purely alcohol induced… wasn’t it?

The brunette ducked her head down, embarrassed. “I’m only passing through. Had to stop off at the stables to get my horse’s hooves checked. Ran across a thorn patch, she did.”

“Well, Bishops’ will take good care of her. And in the meantime, does the gorgeous woman have a pretty name to match?”

Whiskey was by far the best choice she could have made- it could account for the now permanent flush that took residence in her cheeks. The woman turned on her stool and let her knees fall open loosely, her body language much less guarded.

“I’m Y/n. And you are..?”

“Natasha Romanoff, at your service.” The redhead quickly put her hat on and tipped it forwards, eliciting a laugh from the woman opposite. Clint eyed their interaction as he dried some glasses, grinning to himself at how effective Natasha’s charm truly was. She turned it on with the tip of her hat and a flash of her smile, making men and women alike stop dread in their tracks.

“You’re the mayor’s daughter?” Something flashed across Y/n’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came and Natasha couldn’t decipher it.

“Yeah,” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Y/n gave her a smile, nodding to the stool beside her. Natasha sat far too quickly, like an obedient dog. One glance from a gorgeous woman had turned her to mush- what was happening?

A couple of loud thuds resonated from the back of the room and Natasha rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who sat there regularly. “Hey, Romanoff, give us a dance, will ya?” A leering voice echoed above the general hum of conversation and Y/n watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and adjusted her gun that sat in a holster on her hip.

“Give it up, Stark, you’re barking at a knot.” The man in question jeered at her and banged his beer bottle on the barrel table, several men around him doing the same. “If you wanna watch me dance, you better pay me for it.” This only gained her more nonsensical yelling and a man on Stark’s table threw a dollar bill in her direction.

But Natasha just stood up, squared her shoulders and fired her handgun in their direction, the bullet slamming into the wall mere inches above Stark’s head. She blew the smoke off her gun with a cocky smirk and shoved it back in the holster. The entire saloon fell silent, aside from Clint’s mutterings about yet another hole to fix thanks to his fiery friend.

Natasha waited a second longer, almost daring Stark and his guys to test her again. But they didn’t, now only watching her warily as she turned back to her new woman who was watching with a slack jaw. Natasha felt a burst of pride surge through her chest and she puffed it out slightly, sinking down into her seat with one foot up on the footrest, her legs manspreading.

“I’m sorry about that, that was no way to treat a new lady.”

Y/n snickered, shaking her head. “Oh please, I ain’t a lady. I’ve seen worse men than that in towns over, they really never change.”

Natasha’s gaze had drifted to the way the brunette’s hair fell over her shoulder, and how soft it looked despite being so exposed to the elements. But at the mention of different towns she snapped, eyes wide.

“You’ve visited other towns?” She tried to keep her cool, but there was truly no hiding her excitement. This woman had everything Natasha wanted and more.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she admitted, watching Natasha’s face change. “But I ain’t got much work at the moment. There’s not many people that trust a woman to do what a man can do.”

“So you’re just… floating between towns?”

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Yup, it’s just me and my girl. And the occasional over-friendly landlord who tries to get up in my business.”

Natasha’s mind was racing like a mustang. She felt almost childish, wanting to hear stories of her travels and what the world was really like. Y/n could see her curiosity, it was too apparent to mask, and it was like a breath of fresh air. All too often she was met with disapproving glances and was often the butt of circulating gossip, housewives and prostitutes judging her uncommon way of life. But she was happy, and no one was about to take that away from her.

“Where are you from?”

Y/n’s smile faltered and she traced the rim of her now empty whisky glass. “I don’t think about that. Doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m never going back. There’s nothing for me there. My life is out here now.”

“I wish,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Y/n heard it but didn’t comment. After all, they were just two strangers in a bar, nothing more.

“So, if you’re the mayor’s girl, you must know what there is to do around here.” Her words had an element of teasing to them, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a laugh. Ten minutes in and already poking fun at who she was. Why was that so attractive? “There’s a barn dance later if you want to come?” Natasha suggested. “That is, if you’re sticking around for that long.”

“I’ve got a compelling reason to now,” Y/n teased, toying with the hints Natasha had been sending her way.

Natasha quirked her brow and raised an arm behind her head, her bicep flexing slightly under her scrunched up shirt sleeves. “Well, I never turn down the chance to take a pretty girl to a dance.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes in playful accusation “Is that a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Her words were heavy and even Clint raised his eyebrows, having been listening in to their conversation whilst he polished glasses.

“Then you’re in for a real treat, darlin’.” Natasha held eye contact and took a swig of her beer, licking her lip as a drop escaped. Y/n stared back at her and then coughed, using that as her excuse to look away. Anyone could feel the air shift and Clint walked away, shaking his head with a smile. God, Natasha certainly knew how to play this game.

“Where did you say you were staying?” Natasha continued, probing yet more information out of the poor woman.

“Here, actually,” Y/n answered, gesturing towards the door that led to the small assortment of lodgings that the saloon housed “ ‘S the only place willing to take someone like me.”

“Barton!” The man in question looked around guiltily. “Keeping things from me now, are we?”

“You were out! When was I gonna tell ya?”

Natasha grunted and jutted her chin out at him, furious that he’d watched their interaction knowing exactly who this woman was. And Y/n found the whole ordeal rather funny, having made the connection that they knew each other a little while ago.

“Well, if you’re stayin’ here, I know where to pick you up later.”

“Inviting me to a dance and picking me up? Do all foreign girls get this treatment from you?”

Natasha winked coyly, sliding her hat along the bar where she’d left it. “Only the special ones.”

“Oh you’re flannel-mouthed!” Y/n exclaimed, to which Natasha only shrugged cockily. “I’ll be waitin’. Right here, so don’t be late.”

“Roger that,” Natasha responded, mimicking Yelena from earlier. She stood up with a flourish, placed her hat on her head and took Y/n’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it, treating her like a proper lady. Clint wolf whistled her, receiving an insult thrown his way before Natasha had disappeared back through the doors she’d come through, leaving them swinging back and forth with the momentum.

“She’s a wild one, watch out.” Clint nodded after the redhead, silently laughing to himself at her dramatics. Always one for the exits, she was.

But Y/n didn’t even notice his amusement. She was gazing at the gunshot hole left in the wall across the room, and more specifically, thinking about the woman that put it there.

“The wilder the better, I always say,” was all she replied, her mind now miles away. Sure, she said that about horses, but Y/n was starting to think that applied to the women she surrounded herself with too.

[tangerinesilk]

－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other. 

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later. 

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.” 

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-” 

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up. 

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman. 

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…” 

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek. 

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you. 

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head. 

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice. 

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted? 

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time. 

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass. 

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.” 

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.” 

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor. 

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure. 

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them. 

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock. 

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning. 

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw. 

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing. 

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

[revserrayyu]

2.5 Xianzhou continuance thoughts [part 4]

**SPOILER warning** for the end of the mission, covering the conversations between the Yaoqing trio, the Generals and everything else. If you haven’t cleared the story yet then go do so. Or go farm some relics. Do a ten pull. Go frolic outside. Do whatever you wish except ruin your own story experience with spoilers by reading ahead.

The way my heart sank thinking that Jiaoqiu truly didn’t survive his injuries..

..only for us to see Trailblazer and Bailu messing around, weeping at a hastily put together grave for March because she disappeared out for their sight for two minutes. Hoyo must take great pride in successfully giving me a heart attack.

Pfftt, I’ll enjoy the lighthearted conversation while I can though I guess. We truly didn’t do much during this mission with all the POV switch ups that happened, though I still love that they’re allowing us to speak more. All the Trailblazer voice actors are great and I hope we continue to hear them more often in the future.

Annndd that the panic settles back in. Jiaoqiu’s injuries were no doubt the worst, while Feixiao probably faced some drawbacks from all the fighting and madness she endured, but Moze too? I guess he did get attacked by Hoolay and his followers once the warhead realized he was spying on them, but then Moze was seen later on the Skysplitter when Feixiao at the bloody heart and he did eventually find Jiaoqiu somewhere with the help of the Trailblazer, so surely he couldn’t have been that hurt if he was running around everywhere, yeah? Perhaps exhaustion caught up with him after all the chaos, or he knows how to deal with pain rather well. Possibly both.

Why am I not surprised to hear that Feixiao is the kind of person who can’t be confined to a hospital bed. Even if she left in plain sight, I’m sure she would’ve quick enough that no one could even catch her to bring her back.

Seems the whole Yaoqing trio shares this mindset too. Moze could easily sneak out in the shadows whereas Jiaoqiu probably just walked himself out with an excuse like “I’m a healer, trust me when I say I’m fine” or something.

Oohhh buddy.. I love it when characters have different roles in status or have to act a certain way around each other but one of them tells the other to forget the formalities and just be truthful because their relationship is worth so much more than that, like yes she’s his general and he’s her healer, but I have no doubt they’ve become such close friends over the years too. Also, the way the scene doesn’t show his entire face.. god, what nice foreshadowing.

Aww sweetie nooo! Please don’t blame yourself! If anything, blame the plot. It’s like the four stars had a rough time in Penacony and now it’s the five star’s turn on the Xianzhou. And I’m sure I mentioned it before but the trio’s voice actors are all so talented and completely nailed these two story patches. The emotions are perfect.

WHAT IF I CRIED HUH?? Is that what Hoyo wants? For me to become a sobbing mess after thinking Jiaoqiu healed perfectly fine?? AAAaahh.. I’m not entirely sure if the blindness is a result of Hoolay’s attack or a side effect of the poison Jiaoqiu drank, but either way I’m so incredibly sad. Our handsome foxian has already been through hell from being Hoolay’s hostage, did we really need to take away his eyesight too?? Man.. if anything, I will say it was clever of Hoyo to make the one character who always has his eyes closed end up blind because then they wouldn’t have to change up his model at all. It might seem off-putting whenever people use his ultimate and see his eyes now though. Aah, his pretty golden eyes.. I’ll admit that they did seem a bit dull during that one scene of him all slashed up and bloody on the floor, but I didn’t think it was anything serious. More like it was an art style choice and he was so worn out from the attack and knocking at death’s door.

Tell me why I don’t believe his smile and that’s he’s only saying such a thing so Feixiao doesn’t bury herself under all the guilt she feels. Looking back now though, I can appreciate the subtle hints about his condition before Feixiao revealed it. I remember Jiaoqiu mentioning how he recognized the sound of Feixiao’s footsteps when she approached him, so pair that with how the game framed his face before in the previous shots where his eyes weren’t visible and yeah.. smart moves. Sigh.. he once left his role as a military healer to prevent himself from watching more people rush towards their death and now he’s not gonna see much of anything.

Bruh.. he faced the foxian’s worst enemy, got taken hostage by them, watched people die in front of him, got seriously attacked and purposefully drank poison at some point, yet despite all that trauma, he solely cares about how Feixiao is feeling? GOD HELP ME he’s too precious and sweet! I adore him so much and his devotion to her has me so giddy and weak. In a shipping context or not I fucking I love the bond these two have y’all.

I mean.. I guess? In exchange for losing his sight, Hoolay was definitely defeated, which grants all the foxians a big sigh of relief to finally be rid of the monster that haunted them and treated them as slaves for centuries.

More importantly than that (to me at least) is knowing that Feixiao’s moon rage was actually taken care of. Part of his ‘About Feixiao’ voice line is “I cannot leave this world before she's cured” and our man really kept his promise. I wish he didn’t have to go through such extremes to achieve one of his biggest goals in life but hey, if Jiaoqiu says he’s fine, I’ll choose to believe him. Just a little bit.

The way Moze was here the entire time and he didn’t even know… aaahh. Considering Moze was here way before Feixiao first showed up, he probably moves too quietly for Jiaoqiu to even hear him. I wanna bet that Moze left the Alchemy Commission after Jiaoqiu did just to make sure the guy didn’t get himself lost or walk into any danger.

I fucking hope they can find someone to help him! Also, I absolutely LOVE that it’s her now making a promise to find a way to heal him! All those years of Jiaoqiu stressing about finding a cure for her moon rage and Feixiao gets the chance to pay back all his efforts. Kinda surprised that Bailu couldn’t do anything about Jiaoqiu’s sight, but perhaps she doesn’t know how to or isn’t strong enough for such a thing yet? Not even Lingsha could’ve helped I guess. Who knows.

Ma’am.. I love each and every little thing about you, but can you relax? Please?? You just snuck out of the Alchemy Commission, which means you probably aren’t even full healed yet, and we’re already chatting about rushing into more battles? How about we take a break for a little bit and go enjoy the real Wardance. Sound good?

Me and Jiaoqiu sharing exactly one brain cell.

Just hearing her say “wildfire” made me miss our favorite Underworlders even more. At least we’ll get to see a whole bunch of Luka during the Wardance event.

Ah, even more name drops to taunt my hopes with. I’m still bitter we were teased with Jingliu’s return. Speaking of a certain blonde man though, can we ask him to cure Jiaoqiu’s eyes? We don’t exactly how skilled Luocha is with healing since everything about him is a giant mystery, but I think it would be a nice reason to bring him back, if only for a moment. I know he’s still locked up but whomever does eventually heal Jiaoqiu will be put on my good side.

Well, at least we finally get an idea of what our “traveling merchant” has been carrying in that coffin of his.

Having the Swarm be mentioned right before Ruan Mei.. oh dear. What kind of chaos are we in for next time there’s a mission on these ships.

Now then, I know our mad scientist was mentioned at the very beginning of the quest by Himeko regarding some fossils, then again once more towards the middle by Feixiao when she was chatting with Yukong about how the Verdant Knights found the wreckage of Whistling Flames ship, so that of course got my hopes up that we might finally learn more about Tingyun.. but I wasn’t expecting to hear her speak!! Thank heavens she’s actually alive! Whether by chance or because Ruan Mei has already.. you know, used her as a test subject, who knows. I’m leaning towards the latter option personally but regardless! I’m so thrilled for her! I’m not even that big of a Tingyun fan but my mouth was literally hung open in a huge grin when I heard her voice again. I can’t imagine how her voice actors must’ve felt being called back after so long in to give just a single line for this character again after what happened during the main story.

Speaking of powerful one liners, Feixiao receives a second one about Jiaoqiu after you complete the entire mission. Ain’t that grand.

Behold! I’m finally done with all this rambling and I can finally start the Wardance event! I’ve already seen some characters and cutscenes that I’m excited to learn more about. I do enjoy Luka but hopefully I can just breeze through it and not take an abundant amount of screenshots this time.

[goodnightmemes]

GLASS ONION: A KNIVES OUT MYSTERY (2022) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You can’t keep making excuses for every one of [name]’s insane whims. ❜

❛ Genius always looks like insanity at first, though, right? ❜

❛ Hey, please stop fire-spinning inside. ❜

❛ I say it like I see it, no filter. If people can’t handle it, that’s their problem. ❜

❛ You’ve got to stay off the Twitter. ❜

❛ Are you mocking me? ❜

❛ This can’t Shazam. It’s a lamp. ❜

❛ Where’s my speargun? I gotta pack. ❜

❛ He told me you haven’t left the bath for a week. ❜

❛ My mind is a fueled-up racing car, and I got nowhere to drive it. ❜

❛ I need danger, a hunt, a challenge. ❜

❛ There’s someone here for you! With a box! ❜

❛ Hello, stranger danger. ❜

❛ Excuse me, I love your accent. I had to try it. ❜

❛ You must be very special. ❜

❛ When you throw a murder mystery party, you do it right, buddy. ❜

❛ I’m not here. ❜

❛ He’s just staying here. He’s going through things. ❜

❛ This rich-people shit is weird. ❜

❛ This is stretching my stride-taking abilities. ❜

❛ Okay, let’s stop talking and actually start hanging out and having fun. ❜

❛ Why is it on the roof? ❜

❛ I wanted to ask, what are you doing here? ❜

❛ Is this part of the game? ❜

❛ I’ve learned through bitter experience that an anonymous invitation is not to be trifled with. ❜

❛ You really try. I like that. You really make an effort. ❜

❛ You never know when shit’s gonna go down. ❜

❛ I’m uncomfortable. I’m gonna go for a swim. ❜

❛ It’s true. I say it like I see it. ❜

❛ If you want to shake things up, you start with something small. ❜

❛ That’s the place where you have to look within yourself and ask, “Am I the kind of person who will keep going?” ❜

❛ That was some real red-pill stuff. ❜

❛ Every single one of you is holding on for dear life to [name]’s golden titties. ❜

❛ Wow. That was so real. ❜

❛ I’m a truth-teller. Some people can’t handle it. ❜

❛ It’s a dangerous thing to mistake speaking without thought for speaking the truth. Don’t you think? ❜

❛ Are you calling me dangerous? ❜

❛ A few cocktails before I’m murdered. ❜

❛ Halle Berry! That has a kick. ❜

❛ This simple thing that you thought you were looking at, it suddenly takes on layers and depth so complex, it gives you vertigo. ❜

❛ Every time we’ve gotten to the point where I’m going to strangle you, you pull something like this, and it’s magic. ❜

❛ I wanna be responsible for something that gets mentioned in the same breath as the Mona Lisa. ❜

❛ This is reckless. And you’re gonna get somebody killed. ❜

❛ It’s been a memorable weekend already, to be sure, but now the real fun starts. ❜

❛ Tonight, in this very room, a murder will be committed. ❜

❛ Well, to be clear, I mean, I didn’t know what a “blood diamond” was so… ❜

❛ What am I supposed to do now? Play Yahtzee all weekend? ❜

❛ I like the Glass Onion as a metaphor. An object that seems densely layered, but in reality the center is in plain sight. ❜

❛ It’s like putting a loaded gun on the table and turning off the lights! ❜

❛ Well, I’m out of here. Tomorrow morning. Gone. ❜

❛ You’re murdering my vibe. ❜

❛ So you come here, in your Gucci flats, telling us that we owe you? ❜

❛ What do you want? A check? You want performative pity? ❜

❛ I want the truth! ❜

❛ But me, I’m tired of pretending like you’re the victim in this game. ❜

❛ That changes things, right? ❜

❛ Have we ever not pulled through? Pulled it off? ❜

❛ We won’t know the cause of death without an autopsy. ❜

❛ Listen, I must insist that nobody touch the body or disturb anything around it. ❜

Are you treating this as a crime scene then? ❜

❛ I’ll pay you one billion dollars to tell me which one of them tried to kill me. ❜

❛ Oh, fiddlesticks. ❜

❛ Is that a speargun? ❜

❛ Oh, hell’s bells! Just, everybody, just stay here! ❜

❛ I can peel back the layers, I can take it to a point, but what lies at the center, only one person can tell us who killed [name]. ❜

❛ You’re not in the bath again, are you? ❜

❛ Heavens, the dog ate the caviar again. ❜

❛ It’s a stupid idea, right? ❜

❛ Listen, I want to be clear, huh? I am not Batman. ❜

❛ Any feelings of reverence or respect that you had for me when you crossed my threshold, buttress those feelings now. ❜

❛ Yeah, I’m trying real hard to buttress, but this sounds nuts. ❜

❛ Is this safe? ❜

❛ I shouldn’t be here. This is nuts. But I’m here. So let’s do this. ❜

❛ The reality-distortion field ends here. I can’t let you do this. ❜

❛ Look me in the eye! You know it’s a lie! ❜

❛ You must be really great at Clue, huh? ❜

❛ I’m very bad at dumb things. My Achilles’ heel. ❜

❛ This is your last chance to back out. ❜

❛ I think it’s really shitty what they all did to you. ❜

❛ I sold my soul for this. ❜

❛ I thought you said you didn’t drink? ❜

❛ That’s hard kombucha. That’s Jared Leto’s hard kombucha. ❜

❛ We’re running out of time! ❜

❛ Please. Think of the danger here. You gotta step back and let me handle this. ❜

❛ I never email anything that I wouldn’t want to see on the front page of The Times. ❜

❛ I think maybe you should take up drinking. You’re just killing it. ❜

❛ Something is just teasing the edge of my brain. ❜

❛ Oh, if I ever meet Jared Leto, I’m gonna whoop his kombucha-brewing ass. ❜

❛ My therapist says this is a toxic relationship. ❜

❛ We will do what we always do. Deny, half-apologize, and then go silent awhile. ❜

❛ Please tell me you did not think sweatshops are where they make sweatpants. ❜

❛ I will do whatever I have to do to save myself, and he is my only lifeline. ❜

❛ This never happens in Clue. ❜

❛ He’s a son of a bitch. Leave his ass. ❜

❛ I don’t feel sorry for him. He deserved what he got, and you are better off without him. ❜

❛ Please don’t kill me! Oh my God, please don’t kill me! ❜

❛ I’m not trying to kill you, you crazy bitch! ❜

❛ Shitballs! ❜

❛ It hides not behind complexity, but behind mind-numbing obvious clarity. ❜

❛ A veritable minefield of malapropisms and factual errors. ❜

❛ Oh, please. Just tell us who tried to kill me. ❜

❛ Nobody tried to kill you, you vainglorious buffoon. ❜

❛ What is reality?! ❜

❛ Does he keep a vial of poison in his tooth or something? Is that a rich person thing? ❜

❛ Oh, it’s so dumb, it’s brilliant. ❜

❛ No! It’s just dumb! ❜

❛ You dim-witted, brainless jackass! ❜

❛ Your one murder, with any panache at all, and you stole the whole idea from me. ❜

❛ Wow! We got some big accusations flying around here. ❜

❛ You need evidence, and you’ve got nothing. ❜

❛ Anywhere you go, it’s going to be your word against mine. How do you think that’s gonna go? ❜

❛ There’s nothing I can do. Except maybe offer you some courage. ❜

❛ I hope your little bitch tantrum gave you closure ’cause it accomplished nothing! ❜

❛ You’re ruined. ❜

❛ Did you get the son of a bitch? ❜

[hisnamesdylan]

What I think they could do in the tv series if they ever decide to un-cancel it (the scene is George going back to Portland Row after getting the book they were looking for in The Empty Grave. I replaced the part where the driver finds him.)—>

He’s walking home. It’s dark and ominous. Does he know he’s being followed? Maybe. Probably. It focuses on George then pans to the men following him. The one in the lead having a gleaming golden blade. They begin to approach with more of a purpose and catch up with him. George is surrounded. He doesn’t have a chance to put up much of a fight.

The fight itself you don’t see much of. Just a solid punch to the face. And a few bone-crunching kicks to his already crumpled body.

The noise is slightly muffled and the vision is going black. You hear hurried receding footsteps and a vague hope for a siren you’re not 100% sure is there.

Cut scene. The next time you see George he looks pale. Ghostly. Corpse-like. He looks dead. The hurried footsteps are back. This time coming towards him rather than running away. The sound is still muffled, but someone calls out. They sound worried. Fearful.

“George! GEORGE!” It’s Holly. The vision and sound become clear again as Holly kneels beside her hopefully not-dead friend. She’s a mess. “George. Oh, God. George. Please be okay. Please be okay. George. Please. Answer me!” Her sobs make her harder to understand. “HELP! SOMEBODY! PLEASE! HELP!”

Her cries for help turn into just plain crying. Sobbing. Her hands shake as she fumbles to check his pulse. She’s unsure if she can’t find it because she’s nervous or because he’s dead. She’s barely aware of being pushed aside when the EMT arrives. They move him onto a stretcher and load him into the back of an ambulance. She tries to follow. Someone stops her. She fights them, but she doesn’t have the strength. “Please! Let me go. Let me go with him! He’s my friend! He’s my friend!” How many times can she repeat herself? Why don’t they get it? But they’re already driving away.

Holly would have collapsed back onto the street, but someone’s holding her up.

“Holly.” The voice was familiar. “Holly. Let me take you home. You need to tell the others. They need to know. Please.”

The cold rain started to bring her back to her senses. That and the voice. Who she now knew was Kipps. How long had it been raining? When did Kipps get here?

It must have been raining when she left Portland Row. She vaguely remembers that now.

Holly looks up at Kipps. She recognizes him. Of course she does. But her mind is struggling to be present. It’s still somewhere with George on the ambulance ride.

He says her name again. This helps. She nods and allows herself to be lead back to 35 Portland Row.

[formerly-wraith-caller]

Fia's ending is not the restoration of a natural death : a theory

There are plenty of confusing things going on in the Elden Ring lore. Given that we learn it piecemeal through dialog, cut scenes,, and various item descriptions, it's understandable that we don't all end up with the same interpretation of what's happening. One thing I frequently see is the claim that Fia's ending, "The Age of the Duskborn", is a return of the balance of life and death to the Lands Between. I strongly disagree that this is what is being communicated by her ending, and would like to posit the opposite. It is the insertion of an alternative yet equally unnatural lifecycle, one of death unending.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

So we can all agree on this much: Fia is allied with Those Who Live in Death. Per her dialog:

"I wished to be a mother to Those Who Live in Death. So it is that any loathing, any hatred that overshadows them, I must bear, as a matter of duty, with my own flesh."

"I am the guardian of Those Who Live in Death."

Her goal is to uplift TWLID from what she feels is persecution, and to lay with Godwyn and give him another life:

"We, who humbly live in Death live in waiting to one day welcome our Lord. What right does anyone have to object? Our Lord will rise, the Lord of the many and the meek."

"With [the cursemark], Godwyn can take his rightful place as First of the Dead, and claim a second, illustrious life."

"The new life of the golden prince, and first Dead of the demigods, as the rune of Those Who Live in Death. Please, do one thing for me. Brandish this child, my rune, and take for yourself the throne. Stay the persecution of Those Who Live in Death by becoming our Elden Lord."

What are Those Who Live in Death? Per the Skeletal Militiamen Ashes:

"These are the spirits of militiamen who live in Death, and will continue to rise again until properly finished off. This is the grotesque fate of those who come into contact with deathroot."

So we can take a few pertinent bits of information from this. Becoming one of TWLID is likely often involuntary. Corpses buried in the ground aren't going out huntiing for deathroot to rub up on, after all, and we know that the deathroot spread through the lands by infecting the Erdtree after Godwyn's half-death. I won't rule out the possibility that there are living people who voluntarily choose to become TWLID, but given that the majority (if not all) of the undead we encounter are at an advanced stage of decomposition, we can assume that's not terribly common. This is relevant because the nature of TWLID is a point of contention between Darian, Fia, and Rogier.

Darian describes TWLID in no uncertain terms as a blight upon the world:

"Those Who Live in Death fall outside the principles of the Golden Order. Their mere existenece sullies the guidance of gold, tainting its truth. And so it is the vermin must be exterminated, down to the very last."

They run counter to the tenets of the Golden Order. Death was sealed from the Lands Between, and souls of the dead are intended to return to the Erdtree. It's also worth noting that, well, TWLID aren't exactly a friendly bunch. The Skeletal Militiamen Ashes refer to their fate as "grotesque" for a reason, and they don't limit their aggression to the player character. We first encounter Darian apologizing to the body of a person killed by TWLID for being unable to give them their "proper rites".

Fia describes TWLID as "meek", yet their acts seem anything but. Darian describes them as vermin, yet the undead have no control over their fate. Interestingly, Rogier does not clearly throw his lot in with either of these ends of the spectrum, and claims to want to "save them". While it would seem that he feels the best way to do this involves working with Fia somehow, it's less clear what it means to him to save TWLID. He doesn't mention Fia (though she mentions him, making it plain they trade information), so it's harder to understand his motivations. It's tempting to think he wants to save the dead by integrating life within death the way Fia does, but I'd like to suggest an alternative: he wants to put them to a real, proper death. He is the midpoint between the extreme alternatives offered by D and Fia, extermination or prolilferation.

Rogier gives a little insight into what motivates him when he says:

"I've spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot. The world has grown crooked, and if you intend to put it to rights, you'd better understand what happened to make it that way, hm?"

He isn't talking cursemarks and new overlords here, he is talking about understanding what broke everything to begin with. We don't hear talk about the might of the Golden Order(though he does spare it a little admiration in spite of his apparent heretical ties), nor about uplifting the meek undead, nor any reverence for the Prince of Death. In fact, Rogier refers to Godwyn's corpse as "that thing", hardly in line with the sort of respect Fia holds for Godwyn. In order to save the dead, he knows he first has to work out why they exist to begin with. He tells us that if he could inspect Ranni's cursemark, he will "have the answers [he has] sought for so long."

Of course we get a bit more of an explanation for Rogier's interests when we ask him why he wants the cursemark. He tells of us his desire to save TWLID, explaining that in his research he has discovered something of their nature. Again, I think this relates to the fact that TWLID didn't intentionally become what they are, coming into being by random chance through no fault of their own.

"These souls have committed no offense. They have every right to life, only, they happened to touch upon a flaw in the Order."

It's hard for me to decide what he means by this. The SOULS have committed no offense, but TWLID are what they are because they are bodies persisting without the soul. They have a right to life, but does this mean life within death? Or does it mean a proper death, so that they may be given back the life stolen from them when their souls couldn't be returned to the Erdtree due to their affliction as one of TWLID? Something pointed out to me by elden_things is that, in the original Japanese version of this part of his dialog, he says:

"They violated nothing. They only lived in earnest, and thus, they came in contact the law's flaw."

"They only lived in earnest" is A LOT different than "They have every right to life". One is simply understanding that TWLID are not necessarily malicious fiends but an unfortunate accidental byproduct of Godwyn's death, the other more explicitly sympathetic. Taking the Japanese version could lend more credence to the idea that Rogier is not necessarily advocating for the integration of life within death into the Order. He understands that the Order needs repaired, that it is broken, but also that it is able to adapt:

"In the past, [the Academy of Raya Lucaria] obeyed laws which contravened the Golden Order, or so I'm told. Fascinating, isn't it? That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past. With the Order broken, twisted, and in need of repair, such adaptability is more important now than ever."

Interestingly, Rogier doesn't ever deride the Golden Order the way Fia does (referring to them as "dogmatic brutes" seeking to deny Godwyn's ascension and, well, murdering Darian). He actually appears to admire its ability to change with the needs of the current age, and he doesn't talk about upending it or tearing it down, but repairing it. He feels this can be achieved by understanding the things that broke it to begin with. He must understand why TWLID exist, and to do that he must understand deathroot, and to do that, he must understand the nature of Godwyn's death, and to do that he must understand the cursemarks, and so on until we get to the knifeprint and the Night of the Black Knives itself, the genesis of the Shattering and the origin of TWLID. This is how ends up pointing us towards Ranni's cursemark, rather than Godwyn's. It's unclear if he knows Darian had the latter, but I personally assume he didn't, and that this is why he went to inspect the corpse beneath Stormveil. He wanted the cursemark for his research, and Darian knew better than to let anyone know what he had, especially Rogier who he would know was working alongside Fia at this point.

Returning to Fia's ending. Her story culminates in her fashioning the Mending Rune of the Death Prince. Right away its description can cause some confusion:

"Formed of the two hallowbrand half-wheels combined, it will embed the principle of life within Death into Order. The Golden Order was created by confining Destined Death. Thus, this new Order will be one of Death restored."

It's understandable to see the phrase "Death restored" and assume this means that people will be able to die naturally again whereas before they couldn't, both due to Marika's removal of the Rune of Death, and because of the curse of the deathroot causing TWLID. But let's back up to the first half of that item description: "it will embed the principle of life within Death into Order". So which is it? A restoration of real death, or the integration of the living dead into the Order of the world?

Reviewing Fia's dialog would strongly indicate the latter. She states she wants to be like a mother to them, a guardian, to bear the scorn they receive. She wants Godwyn to have a new, "illustrious" second life, calls for his rise as the Lord of the meek and many undead. If it were merely a matter of his second life as the mending rune putting the living dead to rest, how is that significantly different from what the Golden Order is doing with its hunters? Why oppose them instead of joining them in their quest to end TWLID if you both seek to give rest to the dead? The Order wants to "eradicate" them, but we see what this means in practice when we fight a Mariner alongside Darian: sanctifying the undead so they can't rise again, and weeding deathroot so more can't be made. In what way is this not being put to rest? Beyond that, what would Godwyn/the rune be lord of if his meek and many are dead and buried? What persecution needs to be stayed if there are no undead to receive mistreatment?

Then there's the actual cut scene from the Age of the Duskborn ending. Everything in grey shades and shrouded in mist, the light of the Erdtree dimmed, and most worthy of note, the swarms of flies at our Tarnished's feet. We've seen these flies before in the Deeproot Depths before Godwyn's body, as well as on Rogier when he's dying of deathblight. The flies are very heavily connected with deathroot and TWLID, another indication that this is not an ending of a peaceful and natural death, but the inclusion of the living dead in the world order. These same living dead who we have already established are unlikely to have chosen this fate for themselves. Is it really a mercy to be left to what the game itself refers to as a "grotesque" fate, one which you have no control over and don't choose for yourself?

A final nail in the "this is a return of true death" coffin for me is the simple fact that there already is a rune for giving people natural deaths. It's the Rune of Death, the same one the player can obtain from Maliketh. If Fia's intention was simply to give a peaceful death to people in a world plagued by the immortality given to it by Marika, wouldn't it be more sensible to seek this rune instead of fashioning a new one altogether, one that it kills her to create? (I know people believe Devin killed her, but I'm pretty confident she's already dead. She gives us a farewell before laying with Godwyn to create the rune, and talks to us like she won't be there when she asks us to take the rune, and the other two NPCs who fashion mending runes die in the process as well.)

If you've made it this far, feel free to share your thoughts. It's always interesting to read new perspectives, and I'm sure there are things I've missed or even totally misunderstood. There's a huge amount of information tucked away in this game and it's very exciting to learn something more about it.

[amypihcs]

Hello friends! Incredibly late as i am, what our doctor tells us today!

John H Watson is very fond of his detective now

We KNOW that Holmes had been jumping up and down and vibrating as soon as Hilton Cubit passes him the papers. AAAAND IN FACT...

Well, we knew. Just... JUST HOW FOND WATSON IS! Holmes is whistling, Holmes is singing, Watson is looking at him with the fondest eyes ever. And bringing him a cup with cut fruit so he eats something.

Don't you say, Watson. Now let's send a telegram! And let's see if the answer is what Holmes expects!

i said... let's see if the answer is what Holmes expected... AH FUCKIT. Posteitaliane!

Fidgety anxious Holmes! DOES IT TAKE MUCH FOR A TELEGRAM TO ARRIVE??? Ah well, a letter at least... Ah-ha, ah-ha

FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCK. LOST THE TRAIN. FUCK. Holmes' suspicions were right. (I SAY, YOU COULD SEND CUBITT A TELEGRAM! It would've arrived!)

Something tells me that the answer to the telegram at this point was unnecessary and just gave Holmes more anxiety. Hope Watson manages to calm him down enough to sleep, since his powers of detachment are not working all this much today... poor Holmes.

Swift cut, morning, hop on the train, HOLMES EAT SOMETHING PLEASE, we get to Norfolk and...

Oh fuck. Damn. What shouldn't've happened JUST HAPPENED, APPARENTLY! Let's hurry!

Poor Holmes. He feels depressed and i can't find fault in it... Watson, let him lie on your shoulder, he needs a hug soooo badly.

Ah finally at the manor!

And here's the police. Wanna work together or do i need to deduce the living shit out of you? I will do ALL I NEED to obtain justice. And i INTEND TO. Luckily the inspector is happy to work with Holmes, phew.

Watson... Watson, PLEASE. stop glaring daggers at the man. PLEASE. He's trying to do his job. Now, let's question the servants, we're trying to work PROPERLY.

UH! Noted! And now to the room!

Ouchie! At least he died painlessy. And quickly. Now, hophop, away with the body!

What were you doing, inspector? I am literally showing you how to examine a crime scene. USE YOUR DAMNED EYES! There's a bullet right there! Watson, PLEASE, those heart eyes. Now, remember the powder smell?

THIS is why you should've taken not of it! You hadn't followed? Not much surprised. F, inspector, today Holmes doesn't take prisoners.

Hello, handbag!

Add this to the evidence and now we SHOULD GO OUT IN THE GARDEN, since someone hopped out of the window.

WATSON! Eyes on the footprints, not on your husband's handsome backside, please. And allow me to correct you, YOU are the golden retriever of this man's cheetah. Ah here we are! Cartridge of bullet number 3.

NOW I WANT THAT MAN. Holmes just gives plain instructions and... sends a stable boy?

Write a coded message, mess with your own handwriting, and watch as Mr Slaney falls in the trap with the whole of his shoes. Well, inspector, be useful and call some more cops to help you! Now we wait.

Holmes doesn't like this case at all!

Holmes: Watson... Watson i wanna go home... Do you know when we can take a train? Watson, you'll do better to cuddle this detective better once home. But we'll see how it will go in the next episode!

[freuleinanna]

trials (and errors)

aaaaaah fuck it. so I was having a hard time writing the fic between being dead inside and quitting my job & job hunting. it still isn't finished, and I've been struggling with writing a longer piece in English as well, but whatever, I'll just keep trying.

P.S. I'll be posting by chapters (AO3 too) in hopes of winning myself some time. P.P.S. I've posted excerpts from it here, here, here, and here. P.P.S. Just a note. I didn't want to make Marisa or Asriel specifically likeable. They're young, and youth is often about ugly emotions & being wrong most of the time. Special thanks to @stillgoingstrongforeternity for inciting the idea!

Exiled from the public's eye, young Marisa Coulter is preparing to go and stand trial for adultery. On the other side of Oxford, young lord Asriel Belacqua is preparing to go and stand trial for murder. A lot has been said about how 'as soon as they met, they fell in love'. That is exactly what made the rest of it so hard.

Chapter 1: Creatures.

Animals turn wild in isolation.

Notes:

I've sprinkled my own hc's from 3-sentence fics all over this, so if you feel you recognize something, that's cause you probably do.

Please know that I resent the idea of turning Edward Coulter into a monster.

Hilda the Maid is just an OC, don't mind her. She's there for the scene.

The old maid's daemon, a house cat, is peering at the golden monkey from behind his human's legs.

'You're not dressed,' a tone of cold disdain matches the stare, no trace of respect in either. Frankly speaking, Hilda never had much love for her, tolerating Marisa reluctantly for the sake of her adored Edward, but now – well. No room for pretense. The boy she nursed in childhood lies rotting in his grave, yet she who wronged him is alive and well.

With a side-glare equally hostile, Marisa puts the drink aside. It is untouched, she cannot afford drinking before the court, she's not that reckless (is she yet?), but the oaky smell is enticing and her lips are dry with thirst. She licks them slowly. It's a game – a craving she must endure, the taming of the beast. She's become good at that.

'Take them away,' her voice is hoarse with disuse, and Marisa wonders if that croaking would be any similar to her daemon's, should they break silence again. 'I shan't wear 'em.'

On the bed, two dresses are set out: both black, both criminally distasteful. Fitting a widow, Marisa supposes, chosen undoubtedly by Hilda herself. She doesn't bother to mask a grimace looking at baggy silhouettes of plain cloth with mournful ribbons in abundance and humble sleeves that cover the wrists – the humiliation of wearing something so bland, even for theater, turns her insides. She buried a husband, after all, not herself – unless you count the exile.

'Yes, you shall.' The house cat narrows his yellow eyes hissing. 'You shall, if I have to wrestle you into one.'

Marisa turns her head, and even the stuck-up old maid can't deny how much the gesture suits her: the arrogance of it, the will. Light from a window catches her eyes; hellfire burns blue as she leans forward in her chair, elbows on her knees:

'Try.'

'A vermin, that's what you are.'

She blinks, her jaw clenches and unclenches at the words. She sits perfectly still. Predators always do.

'A pest, a parasite from the beginning, and he never knew, no, he was too good a man for that. I told him, but he wouldn't listen. I saw you for what you are, though, you little, rotten–'

'Dear Hilda.'

A pause. Hackles raised on opposite sides of the room.

'You will address me as Madam, or I will personally rip out your foul tongue and send it to whatever beggar family Edward had kept you here to support.'

It’s the longest sentence Marisa has uttered in weeks. Her daemon is baring his teeth instead of her – they always feel a little closer at their worst. How fascinating. The house cat stands rigid, its tail twitching in a half-curl close to the legs. The woman's stance is much the same. With visible restraint, she keeps her hands clasped above the apron as servants learn to do, but disgust dripping from her voice is undiluted and more candid than a knife making the cut.

'You may be a lady of the house by marriage,' she spits, 'but you're nothing more than a greedy, dirty pithole.'

The predator leaps.

Even as it leaps, it agrees with the judgment.

The golden monkey screeches, the cat is yowling – Marisa springs to her feet and makes exactly two furious steps before stopping herself, her robe flying and then settling around her. Hilda does not move. Marisa suspects why. All her life, she, too, has never felt a single reason to fear something she could dissect, and pull apart, and learn its nature. Knowing the nature, that’s the key. Poison rolls over her in waves of sizzling acid, and she could swear the woman sees that right underneath her skin, she is a horror.

It feels weird, though, not having power over someone for a change. Weird and destabilizing. Marisa can't afford that either.

An idea comes not by itself, but conjured from the depths of the sadistic artistry that is her mind now, and her lips twitch in triumph.

'Alright,' she nods, 'I'll wear a dress. A fitting dress to honor our dear Edward.'

Possessed, she flings the wardrobe open – a splash of exuberant colors, rich materials, silks, laces of such intricacy it's like a tapestry of its own, everything she hoarded with dragon-like avarice running from (a greedy, dirty pithole) her girlhood of virtuous restraint. A crimson one she chooses, holding it to herself and turning around.

'What do you think? Does that render all my grief?'

The dress covers the knees, but then it doesn't cover much else. Marisa can still taste the satisfaction of seeing the seamstress look away nearly in shame, pricking her fingers on a needle, as though at that instant, fitting the dress to Marisa's figure, she fully realized her own bleak mediocrity and it marked her for life. Cap sleeves were embracing the tender arc of Marisa's shoulders, and a cleavage, though humbly narrow, was running down her bosom just low enough to hypnotize anyone looking with hints of delicate plumpness as she was breathing.

It was a scandalous dress. The thought of wearing it ached in her lower belly with pleasure of anticipation.

'At least pretend to have some dignity,' – oh, the repugnance in it.

Marisa laughs. She slips out of her robe and throws it sideways – the monkey jumps to catch it, turning his back immediately, eyes averted. Marisa doesn't see, but small black paws clutch at the clothes where it carries the warmth of her body, half-stroking it, half-choking.

Сool crimson clings to her every curve as she releases her hair from under it and turns around.

'Zip it up.'

Poor old maid, her face is wrung with contempt so profound she cannot speak. A useful trait in servants. It stirs something in Marisa, pulls her eyebrows into a frown. Then it comes – Thorold, that reticent man Asriel always had around, his trusted accomplice in every deed; her mind recoils from the danger of pursuing the memories further. Too many things she can’t afford.

A glance over the shoulder; a sharp, imperious snap of fingers.

'Now, Hilda.'

The cat daemon treads forward. Coarse hands jerk the zipper up, shaking Marisa mercilessly in the process. She feels a hard pinch at her back as the maid smoothes the dress over, and bites a giggle down through the wince. It is very, very familiar – that overwhelming need to let cruelty out in little bursts. Oh, Hilda, so righteous. So susceptible to provocations. What fun it would be–

The woman slams the door behind her without saying a word, taking the victory and leaving Marisa alone in the room.

As she regards the empty space, resembling a child that's just been told off by a mother, her fingers tremble. A (greedy, dirty pithole) storm is raging, locked in a ribcage with nobody to lash out on, nobody to stand witness. Her claws dream of a victim to dig into. They only find her own self, and of herself, she’s had enough to make her permanently sick.

The monkey chatters sharply. Marisa glares. Hateful creatures, both of them, she thinks, like broken mirrors only capable of showing the worst parts. Their worst parts have grown wild in isolation, clashing all the time. Following an impulse, she holds his gaze, then sinks to her knees, leans forward – then, after a moment of consideration, growls. Her upper lip curls to show teeth. Vocal cords strain dangerously. A menacing grumble is rolling somewhere so deep in her throat she didn't know a sound like that could be produced.

Her daemon drops to all fours and mirrors the note, prowling toward her. Golden fur on his neck bristles, he even paws at the ground a couple of times as if aiming for a blow. He wouldn't dare, and neither would she, but both feel rabid for wanting to. Snarling, they inch the distance between them. Stare at each other, face to face – repulsive, repulsed, and ugly. Shivering all over. Then, as abruptly as it started, it stops.

Long – silence.

Long, long silence.

Marisa sniffs her nose and rubs it with a bent wrist before getting up. She doesn't give her soul a second look; surely, he knows when his purpose is served.

The actual, normal mirror reflects her as she is: miserable and ridiculously clothed. What was she thinking with that dress. She isn’t going to wear it, not really, not unless she wants to be skinned alive at the hearing. In a fit of irritation, she arches to reach the zipper, pulls it down, then frantically undoes it all the way. The dress is flung to the floor and lies there like a pool of dried blood.

Must have gone mad, her heart. Pounding. She’s no short of heroic trying to catch her breath, but it keeps escaping. She would love to escape too. Instead, she'll have to drag herself in front of the Consistorial Court, and let them dissect her, and pretend to be so very sorry as she’s trying to collect her own intestines afterwards.

That’s not all, though.

Biting on a nail, Marisa struggles to understand where her anxiety comes from. Leaving the house – yes, sure, because at least she knows these walls, albeit hates them; she’s made herself a proper hermit here. Spectators throwing shame, knocking on a glass cage to wake an animal. Losing every chance in life over something she had no control of. That just makes her bitter, not afraid. There’s also facing Asriel.

As soon as she thinks it, her senses are flooded.

Rage on the rocks with two fingers of fear, completely irrational. There’s nothing they can say or do to each other, now that the worst things have already been said and done, and still her head is spinning with thoughts of what she’ll say, what he'll say, how he'll look at her and if he looks at all. To be honest, she can’t lay a finger on what it is exactly that scares her. Maybe, that she'll remember the good things.

And then, there's Lyra. . .

–the reaction is instant and brutal. Her body bursts with phantom loss so excruciating she wants to gnaw her wicked arms off for recalling the sensation of holding a child. She had wished Lyra out of them, but now that she is, her whole body wants her back despite direct orders. It's irrational, too, and she growls again, guttural sounds almost prompting her daemon to look – but she is naked, so he doesn't.

What’s infinitely strange is she has never found any particular fondness in her for Lyra. Why would she? For goodness' sake, she is barely twenty-three, she has no more comprehension of being a mother than of being a panserbjørn, yet the longing, purely physical, is there. Something's changed in her, like her integrity has been compromised. Like she’s been invaded and pillaged, robbed of something she never quite wanted but is barely restraining herself from crawling on her knees after. It’s humiliating.

Is it humiliating to have had a daughter?

Daughter, what an alien word.

Her own body betrayed her when it decided to awaken and be barren no more. It wrote a love story – then branded Marisa with it as punishment for not reciprocating that love. Her breasts are still swollen. There's a soft roundness to her waist and hips, skin marked with tiny scars from stretching. Women with bodies like that are supposed to nurse children, but that's a thought as empty as her womb.

She thinks instead of standing trial for adultery. Of whispers, gossip, judging looks, and whatever comes next. If she is to survive, it’s by molding herself back into a presentable form. By getting clean, cleaner than ever. Even if clean means scraping that sad little love story off her skin with sandpaper.

It doesn’t help that, for the life of her, Marisa cannot un-feel the irreversibility of changes left in her by becoming a mother.

Especially since she hasn’t, really. She gave birth. Those are different.

She can't afford focusing on that now.

In the end, she chooses another dress: elbow-length sleeves, no cleavage. Indigo blue, like the depths of the ocean where the creatures are lurking. The monkey comes to sit at her feet, completing the armor with the last golden piece. Entice, beguile, disarm. Asriel will see through it, so let him. At least the rest won’t see the wounds.

Chapter 2

[inevitablemoment]

The Pact (Book #1 in the Claridge Court series) Playlist

i. let's get together (hayley mills)

let's get together, yeah yeah yeah // think of all that we could share // let's get together, everyday // every way and everywhere // and though we haven't got a lot // we could be sharing all we've got.

ii. love alone (katelyn tarver)

it’s on the line // i’m waiting for a sign // i see it in your eyes, i // i know you really feel the same

iii. if only (dove cameron)

a million thoughts in my head // should i let my heart keep listenin'? // 'cause up till now // I've walked the line // nothing lost, but something missin'

iv. i belong to me (suzan erens)

i'm here when you need me // i live and i die with you // to share all your troubles // i'll laugh and i'll cry with you

v. belle [reprise] (susan egan)

i want adventure in the great wide somewhere // i want it more than i can tell // and for once, it might be grand // to have someone understand // i want so much more than they've got planned

vi. you'll never walk alone (celtic woman)

at the end of the storm // there's a golden sky // and the sweet silver song of the lark

vii. ready for a miracle (fiona kernaghan)

if you could be anything you want // would you play nonchalant // or loosen up those tight heartstrings?

viii. kind of woman (rachel bay jones)

i've no special glamour // no bait I can twirl // for I'm just a plain everyday // commonplace come-what-may // average ordinary wonderful girl!

ix. london boy (taylor swift)

you know I love a London boy // i enjoy nights in brixton, shoreditch in the afternoon // he likes my american smile, like a child when our eyes meet // darling, i fancy you

x. [i love you] for sentimental reasons (linda ronstadt)

i think of you every morning // dream of you every night // darling i'm never lonely // whenever you're in sight

xi. l-o-v-e (nat king cole)

love is all that i can give to you // love is more than just a game for two // two in love can make it // take my heart and please don't break it

xii. one moment more (mindy smith)

oh, please don't go // let me have you just one moment more // oh, all I need // all I want is just one moment more // you've got to hold me and keep me now

More under the cut

xiii. so this is love (ilene woods & mike douglas)

i'm all aglow // and now i know (and now i know) // the key to all heaven is mine

xiv. love story [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone // i'll be waiting // all there's left to do is run // you'll be the prince and i'll be the princess // it's a love story // baby, just say yes

xv. the shoop shoop song [it’s in his kiss] (linda ronstadt)*

does he love me? i wanna know // how can i tell if he loves me so?

xvi. lovely, lonely man (sally ann howes)*

how did he touch my heart? // how did this feeling start? // this glow that feels so warm inside // this sudden summer storm inside

xvii. she's in love (cast of the little mermaid on broadway)

she's in love, she's in love // see her blush, see her grin // got to be love she's in

xviii. i won't send roses (robert preston)

i won’t send roses or hold the door // i won’t remember which dress you wore // and should I love you, you would be the last to know // i won’t send roses and roses suit you so

xix. i promise you a happy ending (robert preston)

i promise you a happy ending // like the ones that you see on the screen // so if you’ve had a bad beginning // love will come out winning in the closing scene // i can promise you a happy ending // that has you, loving me, loving you

xx. starlight [taylor's version] (taylor's swift)

don't you see the starlight // don't you dream impossible things?

xxi. uptown girl (billy joel)

uptown girl // you know I've seen her in her uptown world // she's getting tired of her high class toys // and all the presents from her uptown boys // she's got a choice

xxii. la vie en rose (cristin milioti)

hold me close and hold me fast // the magic spell you cast // this is la vie en rose

xxiii. doll on a music box/truly scrumptious reprise (sally ann howes & dick van dyke)*

you cannot see // how much i long to be free // turning around on this music box // that’s wound by a key

xxiv. mine [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

do you remember we were sitting there by the water? // you put your arm around me for the first time // you made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter // you are the best thing that’s ever been mine

xxv. a million dreams (p!nk)

however big, however small // let me be part of it all // share your dreams with me // we may be right, we may be wrong // but I wanna bring you along // to the world I see

xxvi. tightrope (michelle williams)

but I’d follow you to the great unknown // off to a world we call our own

xxvii. so close (jon mclaughlin)

oh, how i could i face // the faceless days // if i should lose you now // we're so close to reaching that famous happy ending // almost believing this one's not pretend // let's go on dreaming, though we know we are // So close // So close // And still // So far

xxviii. wildest dreams [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

say you'll remember me // standin' in a nice dress // starin' at the sunset, babe // red lips and rosy cheeks // say you'll see me again // even if it's just in your // wildest dreams

xxix. love song (matthew james thomas & rachel bay jones)

private little jokes and silly pet names // lavender soap and lotions // all of the cliches and all of the games // and all of the strange emotions // singing a love song

xxx. i guess i'll miss the man (rachel bay jones)

i guess i'll miss the man // explain it if you can // his face was far from fine // but still I'll miss his face // and wonder if he's missing mine

xxxi. top of the world (michael arden, ciara renee, and ensemble)

for all these years // you've stayed alone // and free from danger // we shared your fears // it wasn't safe to trust a stranger // but maybe we were wrong here // could she belong here?

xxxii. ocean away (barlow & bear, ft. darren criss)*

am i the one to blame // when we’re dancing in the same room // but you’re an ocean away

xxxiii. if i loved you (joey richter & mariah rose faith casillas)*

if i loved you, you would know it // if i loved you, i would show it // if i loved you like you should be loved // loved you like i'm capable of // if you were the one i'm thinking of, whoa-oh // oh, babe

xxxiv. hopelessly devoted to you (olivia newton-john)

but now // there's nowhere to hide // since you've pushed my love aside // i'm out of my head // hopelessly devoted to you // hopelessly devoted to you

xxxv. tonight i celebrate my love for you (roberta flack & peabo bryson)

tonight, i celebrate my love for you // and that midnight sun // is gonna come shinin' through // tonight, there'll be no distance between us // what i want most to do // is to get close to you

xxxvi. written in the stars (elton john & leann rimes)

you are all i'll ever want // but this, i am denied // sometimes, in my darkest thoughts // i wished i never learned // what it is to be in love // and have that love returned

xxxvii. a whole new world (peabo bryson & regina belle)

a whole new world // a new fantastic point of view // no one to tell us no // or where to go // or say we're only dreaming

xxxviii. delicate (taylor swift)

my reputation's never been worse, so // you must like me for me

xxxix. 'tis the damn season (taylor swift)

there's an ache in you put there by the ache in me // but if it's all the same to you // it's the same to me

xl. dorothea (taylor swift)

if you're ever tired of bein' known // for who you know // you know // you'll always know me

xli. in whatever time we have (darius dehaas & kelli rabke)

from this day forward, nights won’t seem so black // from this day forward, we will never look back // in whatever time we have // we will make the most of time // and at least we’ll be together // in whatever time we have

xlii. never knew i needed (cassandra steen)

i must admit you were not a part of my book // but now if you open it up and take a look // you’re the beginning and the end // of every chapter

xliii. say you won't let go (james arthur)

i'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed // i'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head // i'll take the kids to school // wave them goodbye // and i'll thank my lucky stars for that night

xliv. ours [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

and it's not theirs to speculate // if it's wrong, and // your hands are tough // but they are where mine belong in // i'll fight their doubt and give you faith // with this song for you

xlv. electric touch [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

all i know // is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life // got a feelin' your electric touch // could fill this ghost town // up with light

xlvi. enchanted [taylor's version] (taylor swift)

and this is me praying that // this was the very first page // not where the storyline ends // my thoughts will echo your name // until i see you again

xlvii. far longer than forever (liz callaway & howard mcgillin)

sure as the dawn brings the sunrise // we've an unshakable bond // destined to last for a lifetime and beyond

xlviii. karma (taylor swift)

ask me what i learned from all those years // ask me what i earned from all those tears // ask me why so many fade // but I'm still here

xlix. something good (julie andrews & christopher plummer)

somewhere in my wicked miserable past // there must have been a moment of truth // for here you are, standing there, loving me // whether or not you should // so somewhere in my youth or childhood // i must have done something good

l. lover [first dance remix] (taylor swift)

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue // all's well that ends well to end up with you // swear to be overdramatic // and true to my lover

li. evermore (josh groban)

i let her steal into my melancholy heart // it's more than i can bear // now i know she'll never leave me // even as she runs away

li. cruel summer (taylor swift)

snuck in through the garden gate // every night that summer just to seal my fate // and i screamed for whatever it's worth // "i love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?!"

liii. you are the reason [duet version] (calum scott & leona lewis)

if i could turn back the clock // i'd make sure the light defeated the dark // and spend every hour of everyday // keeping you safe

liv. come to your senses (alexandra shipp & vanssa hudgens)

i finally open up // for you, i would do anything // but you turn off the volume // just when i've begun to sing

lv. if i never knew you (michael crawford & sherie rene scott)

i thought our love would be so beautiful // somehow we'd make the whole world bright // i thought our love would be so beautiful // we'd turn the darkness into light // But still my heart is saying we were right

lvi. promises (reeve carney & eva noblezada)

i don't need gold, don't need silver // just bread when i’m hungry // fire when I’m cold // don't need a ring for my finger // just need a steady hand to hold // don’t promise me fair sky above // don't promise me kind road below // just walk beside me, love // any way the wind blows

lvii. paper rings (taylor swift)

i like shiny things // but i’d marry you with paper rings

lviii. [this will be] an everlasting love (natalie cole)

you brought a lot of a sunshine in to my life // you filled me with happiness I never knew // you gave me more joy than I ever dreamed of // and no one, no one can take the place of you

lix. at the beginning (donna lewis & richard marx)

life is a road and i want to keep going // love is a river i want to keep flowing // in the end i want to be standing // at the beginning with you

lx. ever ever after (carrie underwood)

no wonder your heart feels it's flying, your head feels it's spinning // each happy ending's a brand new beginning // let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through // to ever ever after

[artsy0wl]

Volitile Contact and Dragon Protection

This idea spawned from Champion Night Terrors and Every Offense, Sir, but I Never Liked You Either. Now Especially. It’s a way for me to kind of try something out. A scene. A branch off/what if.

The plan is for a three chapter thing. And as always, link to the AO3 page at the end.

CW: Mild Violence and unwanted contact. Rose is a Jerk and Raihan’s not having it.

What was he witnessing? Raihan went looking for Leon, wanting to meet up with Leon after a practice match with Melony. They were going to grab dinner then go stargazing on top of the Hammerlock Gym. A simple evening of relaxed bliss.

Beating Leon to the locker room, Raihan decided to catch him in the runway. He didn’t have the patience to wait for Leon to get to the locker room, despite knowing Leon would be changing regardless. All Raihan expected was to catch his boyfriend, a pinch tired and plenty sweaty. What he found was not that. In fact it was much more sinister.

Leon, was, in fact, in the hallway, but he was not alone. Nor was the air pleasant. Leon was backed against the wall, his sponsor, Rose, cornering him. It was so surreal and unexpected that Raihan was frozen in place.

“Please… I have to go.” Leon requested. “I have plans.”

“With that arrogant dragon leader, I know.” Rose recalled. “You know I don’t like him. He’s no good for you and is nothing more than a fleeting distraction. Besides, I need you at the tower. We have a few things to go over.”

“I can’t.” Leon tried pushing Rose back. “And you can’t tell me who I can spend my time with.”

Pushing Rose did very little as the man was not backing down. Since that didn’t work, Leon tried to squirm out of the situation. Away from Rose. Yet, Rose refused to let him. Sneaking through an opening resulted in Leon’s arm being grabbed and Leon’s frame being slammed against the wall. It wouldn’t stop Leon for trying, but it did make it harder.

Impatience grew as did Rose’s voice. “Enough!”

Leon flinched at the response, his frame dipping. Both hands landed on the sides of his face as Rose forced Leon to look at him. Hands tried to pry Rose’s off of Leon, but his head was slammed against the wall, which stopped Leon’s struggling.

It also made Raihan’s stomach sink, snapping him out of the horrified daze he was in. This was cruel. Plain and simple. He slowly and silently inched closer to the duo, not wanting Rose to harm Leon the moment he saw Raihan.

“You will cancel those plans and come to Wyndon.” Rose ordered. Leon squeaked as Rose dragged his face close enough for Rose to whisper in his ear. “I’d hate to have to punish you again, but I guess I have to.”

Leon winced. “N… no.”

Fingers ran through Leon’s hair. “We can’t damage that face of yours. It’s too valuable. Too mesmerizing.” His hands moved around Leon’s neck. “Your voice, on the other hand, could be silenced.” He tighten his grip to prove his point, closing Leon’s airways long enough for the champion to struggle. “Or maybe,” a hand moved to the bottom of Leon’s chin, “I could see what all the fuss is about. See what people love about you. See why he loves you. As your sponsor, I should know these things.”

Golden eyes widely opened. He tried to move his face away from Rose, but Rose’s grip stayed firm, moving to the side of his face and latched onto purple hair. This lead to struggling and Rose’s free hand grabbing Leon’s throat, chocking him slightly. Rose began closing whatever gap between them left when a hand landed on Rose’s shoulder.

“Or you could let him go.”

Raihan yanked Rose off of Leon, punching him. Not expecting it, the man stumbled back as Raihan approached Leon. The man before Raihan was stone cold. His mouth was opened slightly and his eyes were glued to the nothingness around them. Leon’s shoulders slumped beneath his cape and not a sound escaped his throat.

Raihan wanted to grab Leon, hold him, but he couldn’t. Not after Rose touched Leon like that. Raihan could take the cape off of Leon, lifting a weight of his shoulders and getting him to respond just enough for them to leave.

“I’m going to take this off of you, okay?” Raihan sighed, dislodging the cape from Leon.

A twitch surged through Leon, though he remained unchanged. He stood in place, zoning out. He was in shook. Unwavering shook.

Throwing the cape over his shoulder, Raihan contemplated his next move. He seriously considered grabbing Leon, throwing him over his shoulder, and running. He would apologize for it later. After what felt like an eternity, Leon’s hand landed on his shoulder, but before Raihan could react, Leon pushed him aside.

Thud

A fist, meant for Raihan, slammed against Leon’s face. Blood flew out of Leon’s mouth, as realization set in. Raihan was horrified, while Rose seemed stunned and almost… remorseful.

Ready to retaliate, Raihan noticed motion from Leon. His frame was violently shaking, his legs buckling. Reacting first, Raihan picked Leon up before he could hit the floor, carrying him bridal style. It was then that Raihan realized the back of Leon’s head was bleeding. No doubt caused by his head getting slammed against the wall.

“How, fucking, dare you!” Raihan growled, glaring at Rose, who was trying to recompose himself. “What’s wrong with you? He’s the champion. You’re sponsor, damn it.”

“You have no business here.” Rose lectured.

“I have every right to be here! I love him, damn it! Which is infinitely more than I can say about you!” He looked at Leon, who was unconscious and breathing erratically. “I’m taking him to a hospital. If you even think about following me, I’m not holding back. Not even for Leon’s sake. And if you even think about coming to the hospital… or if I so much as see you crossing the street to get there, it’s on sight.”

He wanted to scream, rip into Rose, but Leon’s condition was much more important. Turning his back to Rose, Raihan ran out of the stadium. Leaving Rose behind, he knew he didn’t care about what happened to Rose. Not that he cared to begin with. Leon was all that mattered right now. That was his priority.

[captn1999]

Bette Character Stories

California Sunrise In 1895, the gates of the Lumière Factory opened. As the workers filed out of the factory, a breeze with the smell of film stock also blew from Boulevard des Capucines to the west coast of the City of Angels. The ample sunshine and the typical Mediterranean climate in California had brought more opportunities to Los Angeles. Using the magnificent scenery as their background, countless film companies had gathered there, building an empire of film and television of a new era.

Silent film or talkies? Black-and-white or color? It was at the end of 1930 and no one cared about such meaningless topics anymore. The producers, resourceful and power-wielding, could pluck stars out of the sky, shape them at will and throw them away when they twinkled no more. No, my friend, don't call it "cruel;" it is plain fact that a sophisticated machine like the movie industry needs to renew its parts from time to time.

The girl with a dream finally opened the golden gates to the factory. She hoped to win a place among the radiant stars, and she made it. Thanks to the little "tricks" they used in the film production, even the most experienced movie critics could not tell the difference between the real star and the stunt double from where they sat. That was how she became a cheap substitute for those valuable assets.

Studio Notes "Act 4, take 10... Oh! You know how honored we are to have you on set... Just one more take, please? You were perfect, it's just the stupid wind... Now action!" "Oh! You will never understand me!" "No, Maria, please don't—please listen to my confession..." "Cut! Excellent, James, you deserve a break... Bette, c'mon, your turn!" "Bette in position... Action!" "Splash!" "Alright, go dry yourself... Where's our supporting actress? It's her scene!" "Act 5, take 1, action!" ... "Alright... Bette, here's your paycheck." "Um... Excuse me. Is this all I get, sir?" "Well, you are down on your luck. We reshot that window-breaking scene today, and it was costly..." "But, but..." "But we need an 'important' extra for the next scene. I'm wondering if you're interested, Bette." "Um, yes, sir! I've very interested... "I'm open to any part, even if they are not that important..." "Good, I'll let you know when there's an audition. So now, look at the queuing people behind you. Maybe we can talk later, huh?" "O-Okay..." "Next, James..."

An Official Interview Pandora Wilson: You seem nervous. What's the matter? Pandora Wilson: It's just a simple interview. Bette: Um, par-pardon me, it's just such a great honor! Pandora Wilson: I thought actors would be used to the camera. I would assume them to be more composed in an interview. Bette: M-Maybe? But technically, I've never played a real part... Bette: I mean, um, not everyone working in Hollywood is a star, right? Pandora Wilson: It seems you do not enjoy what you do, am I right? Bette: I may be good at it... but I don't... want to stay where I am. Pandora Wilson: Do you have a dream? Bette: ...I believe... It's just a matter of time until that the dream comes true.

[votestaynight2]

12th Day - moonlight (II) (Scene 2)

And we get another bad end! Tune in tomorrow for the correct choice!

―――Now's my chance. It's not just a surprise attack. Tohsaka and Archer, Caster and Kuzuki. If their powers are equal, even I can make a difference.

I can let Archer take care of Caster, so if I can stop Kuzuki for a while, Tohsaka can shoot him from a distance…!

"Shirou…!?" "――――――――" "――――――――"

I run down the stairs. I have "strengthened" the wooden sword in my hand. I suppress the pain in my shoulder. I can't let Caster know that I'm wounded.

"Are you out of your mind…!? Why are you here…!?" "What are you saying? You're the one who told me to go to the church. I didn't think I'd run into such a situation here either."

Tohsaka gasps. Good. I said that on a whim, but it seems Tohsaka understands now.

"I'm going to help you. I should be of use in this situation, right? …Complain to me after we defeat Caster." I slowly close in on Kuzuki so that I'll be able to protect her.

"…You idiot. You and Rin would have survived if you had not come out."

"Huh――――?" He mutters as if he's given up. Before I realize what he means… "Caster. This makes three against three. You should have no complaints. Get Saber." Kuzuki uses his Command Spell to order Caster.

"Wha――――" …Saber's bindings are released. The golden-haired girl falls powerlessly to the ground and――――

"No way…!? Saber shouldn't be under her control yet…!" "Yes. That's why I used the Command Spell and ordered her to kill you guys. It was my Master's order. I did not want to use it, but I had to, right?"

…Saber gets up. Her body is covered with her silver armor, and in her hands is a golden sword I have never seen before――――

"…You got me, boy. I only have one Command Spell remaining now. This is for my protection, so I cannot order Saber by force anymore. …My plan to make the Holy Grail eternal has been foiled. I can only make one wish come true now, but――――"

"I shall have fun here before that. Saber. Show them your true powers, as they have spoiled my wish."

Saber readies her golden sword and steps toward us.

" " Archer is silent. Instead of telling Tohsaka to run, he stands in front of Saber. ―――It is… …The final loyalty of the knight that understands he cannot protect his Master no matter what.

Saber and Caster begin their attack. There's no way to counter-attack nor is there time to run away. How can a mere human defend against it when even Archer has abandoned all hope?

Saber and Caster. Ordered by the Command Spells, the two Servants attack mercilessly――――

Taiga Dojo!

Hello, everyone. It is time for the counselor of life, time to resolve all your secret problems. This is today's guest. The one living in Ryudou Temple in Fuyuki City, Caster-san (Pseudonym), 28 years old (Estimated). Hello. Please give me your best regards… (The voice is changed for privacy reasons) Oh my, you are beautiful. What's wrong? Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't have any problems.

Um, well… I think I'm not standing out… People say I'm plain compared to the other six, not a good character, and that I'm too old… Oh, that's terrible. Oh, what is this? It says here that you are a fortune teller. …Yes. I actually want to be a housewife and raise a warm family. I returned to work in hopes of decreasing the burden on my husband, but I'm getting tormented at work as well… What should I do!? I want to change! I want to be a more lovable character! Haha, that's impossible! During the development phase, it was said that "Caster turns into a loli with hyper power", but we only need one loli! Give up your hope of being a cute character! …Sigh. You're right. I kind of realized it, but it's just too painful… I'm doing my best, you know? I secretly saved up, hired a guard, and set up surveillance cameras everywhere. But my husband doesn't even thank me for my hard work! Just a while ago, my plan was foiled by these kids that suddenly appeared… I'm working so hard, but I'm not getting compensated for it! Fujimonta-san, can someone like me find happiness? Nope. It's your fault, Caster-san. N-No way… Even here, they abuse me…? All right, I'm bored with this now! The case is settled! That is all for the life counseling by Fujimonta!

[jellysweets]

“you can’t have him! thoma is mine!”

thoma x gn!reader they/them pronouns used

genre(s) : fluff to angst to fluff, romantic fluff

warnings: reader has a mental breakdown. everything is in lowercase, probably some improper grammar. reader has hinted at thick thighs bc i do and uhh yeah so yeah sorry😭 btw some swearing also maybe ooc idk.. intended ayamiya!!

synopsis: y/n helps out around the kamisato estate occasionally, and ayaka asks them if they’d like their position to be official art become a true maid to the kamisato clan.

wc: 2.1k

kat’s ramble: FIRST POST!! yipee! so happy to finally start writing fics!! sorry if this is kinda bad ..😭 i personally don’t like it so.. btw h/c means hair color & h/l means hair length if u saw that and didn’t understand ! also one scene is inspired by horimiya in that scene between hori & remi 🤭🤭 horimiya fans ifykyk xx

as you were watering the flowers that decorate the kamisato estate, a familiar face approached you with her usual sweet smile.

“ah, lady ayaka, good morning.” you greet. ayaka sighs softly, “y/n, i told you to not greet me with such formality,” she smiles. “i appreciate the kindness, but you’re no stranger to me, nor the kamisato clan. you’re well acquainted with most in the kamisato family, so there’s no need to be so formal.”

“i know, i know,” you chuckle. “i just feel it’s more respectful to address you with more formality. though, i do apologize. i know you’d like to get a breather and be treated like an ordinary pedestrian, so i’ll make sure to call you plain ‘ayaka.’” you smile.

her eyes widen for a second, “oh! im here to ask you something on behalf of my brother because he was far too busy to find time to speak with you,” she places a hand on her chest. “i know it’s a lot to ask of you, but the kamisato clan is in need of a bit more assistance..”

you drop your watering can, “are you asking if i’d like to be a maid?” you ask softly in surprise. “well, i.. yes. i am.. i hope that’s not too much for you to handle, we would love to have you as an additional maid. lately, thoma has been exhausting himself.” your eyes widen at his name.

thoma.. someone you’ve been in love with for so long. you want to spend every second of every day with him. you feel at your best around him, and he opens someone inside of you that you didn’t know was there. and to think you might get to work aside him? uhh hell yeah, you’re accepting her offer.

“i would be happy to work for the clan.” you state with a warm smile. ayaka hums in glee, “thank you so much! i appreciate everything you’ve done for us already. and when you start helping out thoma, please don’t exhaust yourself as well. you’re a dear friend to the kamisato clan and i don’t want you to forget to take care of yourself because we can’t take of everything on our own.”

“i promise to take care of myself alongside working, i don’t want to upset you by overworking myself to the brim of exhaustion,” you place a hand on your heart. “and i’ll make sure to take good care of you and your brother.”

ayaka smiles, “please show up around 9am tomorrow and thoma will take good care of your training.” she smiles and you nod.

“lady ayaka!”, a voice yells from a distance away, you and ayaka look at the way it the voice came from. “ah, im apologize, y/n! i have to go now, see you soon!” she waves and runs off into the distance.

you blush a little, working with thoma everyday?, you think

you pick up your watering can and continue to water the flowers with a warm smile.

you showed up 2 hours early in hopes to spend some time with thoma before you start working, you cheeky little one!!

you sat on one of the steps of the kamisato estate and waited for thoma to arrive. maybe 5 minutes later, a chipper man with high energy walks up to you while humming. seeing him makes you feel so ecstatic and warm. “y/n!” thoma smiles.

aaaaaaaa he’s so cute!! you literally roll on the floor inside of your head. he’s a human golden retriever and u just wanna cuddle him for the rest of time. “you’re pretty early, ayaka told you to come at 9, right?” thoma tilts his head slightly in curiosity. “yes.. but i.. showed up early in hopes to spend time with you…” you admit sheepishly.

thoma blushes a little be quickly shakes it off with a smile. “i’d love to spend time with you, y/n! and i already can’t wait to start working with you. you could come along to give the animals the sweaters i made them !”

you tilted your head and smiled and the light wind blew your [h/l] + [h/c] hair and he thought you were oh so attractive/stunning/gorgeous (ur pick, whatever term u find urself most comfortable with!)

he blushes and tries to hide it with the back of his hand like some shojo male lead in anime (yoo shojo fan alert woops)

“ah- w-well we should get going before we don’t have enough time,” he stumbles on his words. “stay right there, i have to get them.” he runs off into the estate. he enters a room, hunches over, and puts his hands on his thighs, huffing and puffing. “crap.. they’re so cute..” he stands up and regulates his posture, his heart still beating 100 miles per second.

he shakes his head and grabs the sweaters he hand knit in his spare time. he looks down and smiles at them. exiting the room and returning to the spot where he left you. waving at you when he approaches you.

“okay, lets head out!” you nod and walk with him to the usual spot where you give the cats treats and try to befriend that one feisty dog that refuses to open up to you, but you’ll never give up. thoma always laughs at your attempt to befriend the pup and then has to take care of your injury when he bites you and makes your hand bleed.

you arrive to the spot shaded by the tree and you sit down on your knees. thoma looks over and sees your thighs. he darts his eyes somewhere else and he blushes a little, god he just wants to rest his head on your thighs and take a nap.

the cat walks up to you and sits in your lap, “ah- it’s not easy to get this on you in this position.. mm.. there you go!” you pick up the cat after putting the kitten sweater on her, “you look so cute in this!” “mew!” you let out a big smile.

he hands you one of the hand knit sweaters, “wanna put this one on her ?” “of course!” you began calling to one of the cats softly and putting out your hand.

“it seems she likes it,” thoma smiles at you. “and look, he looks dashing in this, does he not?” thoma gestures to the dog sitting on his lap in the red sweater. “aww, he does!!” you smile.

time seems to fly as you put the sweaters on and have fun with thoma. “aah, shit! it’s 8:50!” you groan. “aww, we ‘outta head back then,” he frowns. “you need help up?” he puts out his hand to help you up. you reach out your hand and take his in yours.

you head back to the estate, and he never lets go of your hand. he didn’t even notice, but you did and you were blushing the whole way back.

you arrive at the estate and thoma let’s go of your hand, still not addressing it.

“alrighty! ready to get to work?” thoma asks. “yeah!” you respond enthusiastically. thoma smiles at you, and thoughts are racing in his head about how excited he is to begin working with you.

your first week of work is done and over with, and you’re exhausted. you wake up in your home in inazuma city, and you hear a knock on your door. “mm..” you groan as you walk to the door.

you open it and see a familiar face. “hi, y/n!” ayaka greets with a smile. “la-… ayaka.. good morning, i didn’t expect you to come visit.” you say groggily, wiping your eyes.

“im terribly sorry for showing up out of the blue, and it seems you’ve just woken up. i came to invite you over to the estate today, i’d like to hang out.. and.. i also need some advice.” she looks at the floor nervously. “ah, okay! i just need to get ready, i’ll be over soon.”

ayaka leaves with a wave, and you close the door. you open your closet and pick out an outfit. you brush out your [h/l] hair, and head out to the estate.

you knock on the door to the estate and ayaka greets you with a smile, per usual. “y/n, so glad you’re here,” she smiles. you nod. you hide your hands behind your back so she doesn’t see how hard they’re shaking. what “advice” did she need? she doesn’t like thoma.. does she? no, that’d be ridiculous. but.. what if she does? thoma would for sure like her more than you.

she’s rich but humble, she’s beautiful. she’s one of the kindest people in inazuma. you’re just.. you. she has so much more than you, he could never want you. and that’s the harsh reality you’ve forced yourself to face. “ah, come in!” she steps away from the doorway and gestures that you come in with her arm.

you walk in with a smile and feel refreshed. ayaka doesn’t know about your feelings for thoma, she doesn’t have any ill intents if this is about thoma. you manage to calm yourself down with a deep breath. you take a seat on her futon and she sits down beside you.

“so, y/n.. ive thought about asking thoma to the festival, and i need you to help me pick my outfit..” ayaka says looking straight down at the floor, you can see her hands shaking slightly.

your heart drops when you hear his name. “thoma?..” ayaka nods, and she stands up. she picks up three gorgeous kimonos custom made by ogura mio, “im not sure what to wear, and i haven’t even asked him yet! ahh, please help, y/n..” ayaka sighs.

“i’m sorry, but i can’t let you have him,” you mumble under your breath. “im sorry, i didn’t hear you. can you repeat that?” ayaka says. “you can’t have him! thoma is mine!”

“w-wha?” ayaka’s eyes widen. “i.. im so sorry..!” you yell as you run out of her room. why would you say that? thoma doesn’t belong to anyone. he’s not yours, he’s not ayaka’s, he’s not anybody’s. “y/n!” you hear ayaka yell from the distance.

you don’t stop running, you just keep going to your home. the tears keep streaming down your face. you open the door to your home and run to your room.

you fall to the floor. the thoughts start rushing in.

he’ll never want you, thoma isn’t yours. he’ll never be yours. you can’t give him anything. you can’t provide him anything. you’re an idiot.

you fall to your knees, “stop! please, please. i don’t want to hear this. don’t make me face the truth..” you sob as you grip your hair with wide eyes. you pass out on the floor. you’ll have to sort out everything with ayaka the next day.

you wake up to ayaka sitting on her knees next to your futon that she probably laid you on when she saw your previously unconscious body. “..ayaka?”.. you groan as you sit up. “y/n!!” ayaka hugs you suddenly. “ayaka.. im so sorry..” a tear falls from your eye as you hug her back.

“it’s okay,” she says as she lets go of you and smiles. “there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” she winks. you look to your left and there sits thoma. ayaka walks out of the room to give you some privacy.

“y/n..” your eyes widen, “thoma.. im sorry. i should’ve never said that, you’re not-..” thoma cuts you off. “i love you,” his face flushes red due to his sudden confession. “..so much. i want to be yours.” he smiles at you. “wha..-“ he cuts you off again and kisses you. his lips are really soft, he’s so gentle, caring. making sure not to hurt you.

he releases of your lips and smiles at you again. “thoma.. i love you too.. can you pinch me?” “wha.. no! i promise this is real, there’s no need for that, y/n haha!” his laugh is so cute omlqlNaAhaaaHAee you hear a slight clap sound outside of your bedroom door

you stand up and open your bedroom door, revealing two embarrassed inazuman girls looking back at you, whom are laughing and you are just confused. “sooo, y/n.. ayaka doesn’t actually like thoma!!” yoimiya reveals.

“i asked yoimiya to the festival.. ive known you like thoma for so long. you really didn’t hide it that well, y/n..” ayaka laughs.

“agh!” you gawk, putting a hand on your heart and pretending to be offended. thoma walks up and embraces you from behind, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he chuckles.

“it seems my plan worked!!” yoimiya puts her hands on her hips with a big grin. the four of you laugh and you can only think..

thoma really is mine…

— reblogs are appreciated ! —

[tempobrucera]

I'll kiss you again

Pairing: Thomas x Reader Summary: Finding a box of old love notes in a second hand store, can't do that much harm, right? Reading them together with your crush on Valentine's is a good idea after all, right? Word Count: 5k Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst. Listen, they're idiots. One mention of porn as a joke and another mention of sex if you squint (that scene does exist in my head tho - but good otherwise this would be another 4k and no one has time for that). Otherwise just fluff and sfw.

Please reblog, if you liked it <3

Based on this prompt. Thanks for the prompt @l0standn0tf0und. Thanks to @maneskinbrainrot who let's me bubble about Thomas' shirt collection every other day and thanks to @writingmaneskin <3

"You found something?" Thomas bumps his hips slowly into yours and eyes the box in your hand curiously.

"I think so.", you say. You aren't quite sure why one unspectacular box captured all your attention since you saw it. It's golden and has a bee in a ring of flowers painted on the lid. "You?"

He looks back to the box in your hands before he almost slams the shirt he's carrying with him directly into your face: "Yeah. Look, we match, even when you just have a boring empty box."

It's a golden shimmer with flowers on the shoulder on the right side, the left side is black and has tiny golden bees all over. Some would call it hideous, tacky or just plain terrible - you know he'll look great in it and looking at his face, you know that he loves it already and that you can't wait to actually see him probably wearing it to death.

"Really you!", you tell him. Then you lift the box up to his ear and shake it slightly. "But here's where you're wrong!"

"Oh, it's not empty?" Now he looks at it more interested than before. "What's in it?"

You show him the tiny pieces of clear tape keeping it shut: "Guess, we have to buy it, to find out."

When you both stand at the till of the tiny second hand shop Thomas took you to, he takes the box out of your hand and puts it on top of his shirt. "I'll pay!", he looks at the woman scanning both items instead of you. He knows how much you hate this. Even when you sometimes joke that he could just pay everything you want and you could do nothing more than his laundry in exchange because you know how much he hates it. Deep down you hate him paying for you, it's not why you spend time with him. You really don't want him to think that's the reason either.

"Oh, this is your Valentines present?", the woman looks adoringly at both of you, "Cute! Please let me know where I can get a boy like that, I sure could do with one."

"What?" Thomas looks at her confused, slightly terrified - red blush creeping up his neck. You can only look at her with wide eyes before Thomas repeats himself. "What?"

"I'm so sorry.", she tells him, "I thought ... God, this is awkward, I'm really sorry. It's just ... Look."

She flips the box around to show both of you what she means. There's a sticker on the base. OLD LOVE NOTES. That's what's written on it.

"Oh."

"That's why I thought ...", she looks at him. You still aren't saying anything. "We were wondering who would finally buy it, it has been here for a while, you know ... and you both ... I just ... I thought ... Actually, nevermind."

"It's ok.", he smiles at her, "You still want it?"

You don't look at him but you slightly nod your head. She apologises again when he pays and another time when you all say your Goodbye's.

As soon as you're outside the door, he breaks out in laughter: "That poor girl."

"Sorry", you say quietly, "I didn't see that stupid sticker."

"Hey. It's no big deal, really. We will just laugh about it, 'kay?", he stops laughing. When he's closer to you, he brushes a strand of your hair that fell into your face behind your ear. You look over his shoulder and see the girl from the store smiling at you, then she just disappears inside again. "You want to read them together? Have dinner tomorrow, or something?"

"Sure, why not." Only after you said it, you realise what day tomorrow is. "Wait, do you not have better plans for tomorrow? Like seeing your girlfriend or something?"

"Gianna and I called it off weeks ago", finally he takes his hand from your face, "I'm sure that I told you."

He did, you still have the conversation in the back of your mind.

"I just realised that it's not going to work.", he lets the wine swirl in his glass, "It's better this way before I really hurt even more people."

"You can just say no.", Thomas' voice brings you back to now and then, "I can sulk in my misery alone."

"Nah, lets sulk together." Now it's on you to laugh and he gives you a thumbs up. "You paid for them, you deserve to read them as much as me."

"Cool. I'll bring the wine."

"Which leaves me to cook, of course.", you try to mock him but you can't go through with it any further when he looks at you again.

.###.

The next morning, you ask yourself if it wasn't stupid to say yes. You realise that you'll have no time to cook either. And you're close to just cancel your plans with Thomas, he would understand - he always does.

I just bought wine for tonight. Looking forward to later <3

After you read Thomas' text, you feel like you can't cancel anymore. If you would be honest with yourself, you also don't really want to cancel anyways. It's just nerves. It's just Thomas, you tell your stupid brain, everything will be fine. It always is with him.

In the end you settle on ordering food that you'll pick up from the restaurant after all your responsibilities are done with. Lasagna, it's what you would have cooked anyways. It's Thomas favourite in the whole city, he himself told you so on one of your first adventures together after you met him by accident. Some tiramisu, pistachio gelato and some chocolate-hazelnut soufflé from the same place. And some Spirito Natalizio gelato, you still have leftover from Christmas. You remember Thomas staying over after drinking too much, sleeping on your couch, one night between Christmas and New Year's. How he was leaning against your kitchen cabinets just in his shirt and his boxers, spoon in his mouth. How he told you, he's pretty sure he ended up in heaven and how he got a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth as well. You didn't touch the second tub you had of it since then, it's still closed in the back of your freezer because the taste of panettone and dried fruit would bring you back to that morning in your kitchen. Gelato on your nose and Thomas laughing so hard that he has to hold his stomach.

.###.

To your surprise Thomas is on time, actually he's at your place 20 minutes earlier. He wears the shirt with the tiny golden bees on it - and looks as good in it as you imagined it. His hair slightly tousled, like you love it on him.

"I thought I would match your box for tonight.", he says, then he kisses you on your forehead. Instead of kissing your cheek like he normally does when he greets you.

You follow him into your kitchen and watch how he puts bottle after bottle of wine onto the kitchen counter.

"God Thomas, do you want to get alcohol poisoning.", you ask him starring at the the six bottles of white wine and the two bottles of Aperol.

"I would like to get drunk out of my mind.", he admits. Normally there would be a joking tone in his voice but you can't hear it now.

"Sure, I'm just not drinking myself into a coma with you.", you tell him when you turn the oven on, "I'm back in a minute."

When you come back, there are two glasses of wine on the counter already. You can see him inspecting one of the take away boxes you pulled out of the fridge earlier.

"I love that tiramisù.", he licks his lips, "They make it with espresso martini."

"I got some gelato and some chocolate soufflé as well.", Thomas turns around to look at you. "And I got some lasagne. Sorry, I didn't have time to cook."

"Good that I didn't eat much today.", he laughs and looks back at the boxes, "I'll pay you back for it."

"No, you don't. Not this time, you'll eat it and you'll say thank you and that's it. Food was my responsibility, I could have spend less if I would have wanted to.", you tell him before he has to chance to speak up again.

"Thank you!"

He says thank you again after you finish your food. The lasagne, some tiramisu and some gelato. Two and a half glasses of wine for each of you already. Instead of in the living room, you ate sitting on your window sill in the kitchen. The best view of the city in your whole flat. During summer you would see the sun set during this time, today it's already dark but the city is glimmering in lights.

"You want to open the box?", Thomas asks. Wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. He offers the cigarette to you and takes another sip of his wine when you take it out of his hand, slightly brushing his fingers.

"Sure, I'll get it quickly and we can go to the couch.", you answer, giving the cigarette back to him.

"Take your time."

.###.

"No, you didn't.", you almost drop the box of notes to the floor. "Thomas, please tell me you did not."

He looks at the wooden floor boards, hand behind his neck scratching it awkwardly: "I would have gotten it when you moved flats already and Vic finally couldn't stop me to do it and it'll probably die with me but when you don't want it but I'll take it back with me when I leave later, you really don't have to keep it and I won't be annoyed or anything about it I'll just -"

"Stop talking so fast, maybe?"

"Right.", he says more quietly. "It just felt inappropiate to show up without anything."

You look at the tiny oleander tree standing in the middle of the room again and try to ignore the clear bag of Venchi chocolates on your desk, especially the chocolate hearts scattered inbetween your favourites. You want to kiss him but you also want to slap him in the face. He shouldn't be allowed to do this to you.

"You'll not take it back.", you tell him, "How did you get it inside anyways? It clearly doesn't fit in your bag?"

"Left it outside and just got it inside when you didn't look?" Thomas smiles at you, biting his lip slightly.

"Thank you.", you kiss him on the cheek. "It stays by the way."

.###.

You both sit down on the couch, box on the table next to the bag of chocolates. Even when you really want to cuddle up, you stay on your side of the couch. Inappropiate, you think. He shouldn't be there on your couch. He shouldn't have brought a tree into your home that you'll have to look at every day from now. He shouldn't sink further into your sofa cushions, sighing. He shouldn't look at you when he bites into one of the chocolate hearts. And your heart shouldn't do these stupid cartwheels watching him. Inappropiate.

"Do I have something on my face?", he asks and just now you notice that he stares back.

"No, no, all good."

"'kay.", he takes another bite and continues mouth full, "Come here, I don't bite."

You do get closer to him after that, not as close as you would under any other circumstances but Thomas isn't having it. He grabs the box from the table and when he sinks even deeper into the cushions, he pulls you closer. You can see how he puts his feet onto your table before the last bit of chocolate appears into your view.

"So much for you don't bite.", you chuckle a little bit but shake your head.

"I don't bite people, I only bite chocolate hearts."

You groan, a little bit frustrated. You really don't need the image of Thomas biting someone in your head.

"I don't want the rest of your nibbled on chocolate.", you say, "Stop eating them, these are mine."

"Who said these are for you?", he jokes back.

"Those came with my tree. My tree, my chocolates." You feel yourself relax more and more and melt into his side easier than before.

"No hearts for me anymore," he raises his hands defeated, "got it. I probably don't deserve any anyways. Hey .... You know that you can - You can lay your head in my lap if you want to."

You didn't notice that your head isn't on his shoulder anymore. It's more somewhere between his ribcage and his stomach. He carefully starts pulling the tape from the box while you get comfortable and put your head into his lap.

"I doubt I'll get this sense of happiness from anyone else. I've never experienced anything close to it before. Thank you.", he reads the first one, then comments, "Cute."

He drops the second one on your face for you to read: "I miss you already, I wish you could stay here with me."

"Oh my ... Please, why are people writing this down.", he giggles looking at the new note he picked. He clears his throat and tries to sound as posh as he can, "You're all I think about these days ..."

He interrupts himself by giggling again. So far it's not too bad, you think.

"All I think about is how your face looks when you're close. Oh god ... God. Why do I have to read this? Your pretty little cock. Please."

You laugh so loud that Thomas squirms under you a little bit: "Well, at least we know now that they were into each other."

"Didn't the sticker say it's a box of love notes, I didn't see anything about porn. I can't read the rest of this, sorry."

You have a look on the really long note and after two more sentences, you agree with him. Maybe this should stay between the people involved in this love affair. And not between you and Thomas, who is blushing profusely.

"Moving on.", you say and put the other note to the read ones, "Leonora. I hate this situation and I know that I brought this onto myself but things don't feel right. I want my best friend back, I know that I haven't lost you and I'll do whatever it takes to get your trust back. I am very proud to be your friend, I want this back. I'll never forget the first night I kissed you. Raffael."

"Ouch!" Thomas wraps one of his arms around your waist, "You think they managed to go back to being friends?"

"If he was honest in his note, I want to believe that they managed. That they are still part of each others lives." You really want to believe that they made it back to being friends after this.

"I hope so.", he grabs another note, "Looking at us now, I still can't believe we ended up together. We only started dating such a long time after meeting each other for the first time and I don't know what I did to deserve someone who's as great as you."

You shiver slightly when Thomas moves his fingertips over your arm. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and puts it around your shoulders. It's the red fluffy blanket he showed up with in front of your door at your old place. The week that your heating broke down in the middle of winter and you almost cried on the phone because you were cold and frustrated with the little Italian you spoke and not understanding what people wanted from you. Thomas just showed up, wrapped you into a blanket, made you a cup of tea and then tried to translate stupid things from your tenant agreement, in the end with the help of his mum and Damiano because he also didn't had a clue what's going on or what anything means. Now you aren't shivering because you're cold - you're shivering because you ask yourself if that note can become true for you as well.

He hands you another note, written on a crumbled sticky note shaped like a star: "P.S. Thom, I really wanted to kiss you."

Thomas looks at you confused for a second, then grabs the note from your hand and reads it himself, his eyes going a little bit wider.

"P.S. Mattia, I really wanted to kiss you."

"Yes.", you laugh, "That's what I just read to you."

"Mhm." Thomas isn't saying more than that, just looks at you and still holds on to the paper when he gets a new one out of the box. "Don't stress it, if he doesn't want you it's not love. If he does, see how it goes, it'll end right even when it's not what you want it to be."

"Good advice.", you mumble into his shirt.

"You think so?" Thomas rearranges the blanket over your shoulders, "Even if you would really want it?"

"I guess?", you start playing with the hem of his shirt, "You can't really change it anyways, right? Maybe some things just don't happen for a reason, maybe it's just what it's supposed to be? Maybe people shouldn't worry about what didn't happen?"

"But maybe it's not?", he plays with both notes in hands. "What if something just went wrong somewhere? If it was supposed to be but something messed it up? When the other person just doesn't get a hint even when they really should? When someone is waiting, nothing happens but it did already? Aren't these lost chances?"

"Thomas," you take the notes out of his hand, "how much wine did you have?"

"Fi- six glasses?", he takes the notes back, "I mean ... Even when you would know that both people want the same but are for whatever reason just too stupid to get it right, would you still think the same?"

"Maybe they're not supposed to get it?"

"But ...", he sounds frustrated.

"Maybe they should just say something, instead of waiting for their hints to be understood." You are a liar, you tell yourself. You know, that you could have said something by now but you didn't and you won't do it now either. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Do you think it was a note someone wrote to themselves?"

"Oh, I didn't think about that." You poke one of the bees on his shirt until he smiles at you again and you move on to poke the next and the next one until he starts laughing and then asks you to have mercy on him. "Give me the next note, please."

"Here.", he holds the whole box in front of you.

"I love how your hand fits in mine."

"Do people really say that?", he asks looking at you. "Like for real?"

"Guess so?", you take his hand in yours, "Look, your hand is ... It's really big, you know."

He puts his hand up, so you can press your hand against his after you sit up a little bit: "No, other hands like yours are just tiny."

"Sure," you roll your eyes at him, "but they still fit together really well, see."

"Yeah, I think, I got it." Thomas laces your fingers with yours and before he can pull his hand back from the gentle embrace, you lay your head back into his lap. Hand still in yours, pulling his arm around your waist - he doesn't complain.

"I hope you still think of me when you see the snow. I'm sorry, I couldn't love you right.", he reads another one, "Why do I get all the sad ones?"

"What do you think happened to them? Do you think it ever reached the person it was for?" He really does get the sad ones.

"Maybe? Maybe it didn't -", he stops - stroking his thumb over your hand, "Maybe they got it but they just forgot what the snow was about."

"Thomas," you squeeze his hand in yours, "you just made it sadder, not better."

You read a few more notes to each other. Him still getting the ones that are sadder than the ones, you pick for yourself.

"What was your favourite one?", you ask looking up at him.

"This one." He shows you the now even more crumbled paper between his fingers. "P.S. Mattia, I really wanted to kiss you."

"Why this one?" You take the note from him. You liked it but it didn't stick out to you, except for Thomas taking it and not letting go off it after you read it.

"It's mine now, that's why."

"What are you on about?" He smiles when you look up at him confused - you don't get where he's going with this. Thomas moves you in his lap and then leans down until his breath tickles against your skin. Brushing his lips over your temple, leaving a kiss there. Another kiss right next to your ear. Leaving one right on the corner of your mouth.

"Thom," he stops moving, "Thomas, please. Please stop kissing me as a joke."

You can't take it anymore. All the times he kissed you, teeth clinking together, when he lost a bet. Damiano and Vic cheering in the background while Ethan just rolled his eyes. All the times, he drunkenly asked for a kiss on his cheeks. How your lips landed on his every single time because he moved his face. How you never learned your lesson. All the times, he kissed you right under your ear on a night out, whispering into your ear that it's just fun. All these kisses between girlfriends, tours and press, and your boyfriends that came and went. You really can't take him kissing you as a joke anymore.

He presses one last kiss onto your closed lips before he gets some space between the both of you again.

"With all due respect to Mattia, it's my note now because you used my name when you read it to me."

"What do you mean?", you can hear yourself stutter, "I didn't, I didn't do that?"

"You said Thom when you read it, I heard it." You would like to disagree but you know that he probably heard correctly and his name just slipped past your lips. "Do you really think I buy all my friends a fucking tree and carry it around the city making a fool of myself on Valentine's? You can't really think that."

You didn't think that but you also didn't think anything more about it either: "I thought, you're just being nice?"

"I also didn't kiss you as a joke. I never meant it as one either." Thomas looks at you and you know that he means it. "I'm sorry that I did something for you to think that."

"You said, it's just fun?" This is where you know, what you heard and he can't tell you any other. "Multiple times."

"No ... I said It's just fun if that's what you want it to be or at least ... that's what I meant. But you didn't want that either, so I dropped it.", he explains. "Vic made it her job to make me kiss you every time I lost a bet with any of them after her girlfriend pointed out how you look at me and she cursed herself how stupid she was. I always wanted to kiss you when I did and I wanted to tell you, believe me. I tried when I told you that I broke up but you were so busy with your photo assignment from work that I gave up that day. I just went home and got drunk. I tried before as well but it never worked."

"Thomas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm such a big idiot. God, I'm that idiot who can't get a hint, right?" Now it's on you to brush one of his strands of his hair that fell into his face behind his ear. "What happened that night, you didn't talk to me for a few days afterwards."

"I don't know? I went to Gianna's to get something I left at hers but I ...", he stops talking - it doesn't matter - he's there with you now. You pull him closer to your body, "and the next morning I woke up crying into Bidet's fur and Damiano making breakfast he said I don't deserve. I was afraid I left some stupid drunk voice mails or something."

"I'm sorry." You know that you are repeating yourself, it doesn't change that he deserves to hear it. "Thanks for telling me now. You still want to kiss me?"

"Can I?" Thomas' voice is barely a whisper. He moves closer to your face. "You sure? I promise it's really not a joke."

"I know."

You pull him in closer by the collar of his shirt. He brushes his lips lightly over yours before he deepens the kiss, carefully licking over your lips. The box falls down to the ground - you'll take care of it tomorrow. You don't want to think about anything else then Thomas' lips on yours right now and for a bit longer.

.###.

When you wake up the next morning, you want to get closer to the body next to you. But when you open your eyes, you're hugging your pillow instead of Thomas. You could swear that you fell asleep with him in your arms hours earlier, maybe just too much wine and a vivid imagination. But your clothes are scattered around your bed in a way that screams desperation - not in the way you would undress yourself. You swallow and try to tell yourself that there's a normal explanation, one that isn't maybe it was only fun after all. But it's only 8:45, band practice never starts before 9:30 and Thomas will make it a challenge to only get up at 9:25 when he can help it. But Thomas' side of the bed is slightly cold and he's gone.

You get up and the box with notes making a mess in front of your couch also tell you, that you didn't make up last night. You're cleaning them up mindlessly - the note to Mattia missing. The oleander tree also didn't disappear, it still stands proudly in the middle of the room. Only the buzzing of your phone gets your attention.

15 missed calls

17 new messages

Missed calls from Thomas: 9

Missed calls from Vic: 4

Missed calls from Damiano: 1

Missed calls from Ethan: 1

And then you tap onto your messages.

Thomas

I'm really sorry, I'm a stupid idiot

sorry for not waking you up but it was so fucking early and I forget that we had a flight just before 8

I really should've mentioned that

I just wanted to make clear, that I didn't just piss off

The note I left was terrible, wasn't it?

It was Damiano approved tho, he helped. I should've known it's too much. I should kill him for telling me to actually get a pen and write it down.

I'm sorry.

You really don't have to say anything.

jus tell em that you don't hate me or if you do tell me that as well

Vic

Could you just text him, please.

He's going literally bananas and Ethan will probably lose it soon.

He didn't even sleep on the plane like he normally does, he just chewed on his nails.

He already threatened to kill Damiano.

He already called a fucking a taxi to get back to the airport and just fly back home. Ethan had to drag him out of it again because we can't play a show without him.

I just noticed that you probably are still asleep. I forgot the time difference, he's driving everyone that insane. How the fuck did you fall for him?

Oh and please tell me if the note is really as cringy as he thinks it is. I need the gossip. Damiano told me it's private and he's not sharing lmao. Bitch please, I'll find out one way or another anyways.

Ethan

Please text Thomas before I strangle him. No offense - xo

Even after reading them in the right order, you're still confused. What note is he talking about? You're making yourself a coffee before you take it back to bed to answer their texts. You fluff up your pillow when a receipt falls out of the fabric. You laugh at Thomas' being a mess but the same urge that told you, to hold on to that box, tells you to look at it.

It's the receipt for the oleander tree. On the back however is something written in tiny block letters, you know that it's Thomas' writing. You know it from birthday cards and from footnotes he leaves between his sheet music if he doesn't have it on his phone.

"I'm glad that I kissed you. As I was before when I couldn't say anything. I'm glad that I kissed you, even when it gives me a new addiction. Even when it'll ruin every kiss from now for me and it'll take me a lifetime to forget. Even if it will leave me bruised. I would do it again, I'm glad that I kissed you. As I was all the times before without you knowing. I'll kiss you again."

You settle down back into your pillows with your coffee, you start typing but everything ends up deleted and you decide to call him instead.

Before he can say anything you scrape together all your courage: "I love you."

"I ...", he starts - you can hear Damiano in the background. "Lucky me. I love you too."

You can hear Victoria cheering in the background, how Ethan is trying to shush her, the loud bastardo following.

"I'm glad that you want to kiss me again."

"I will. I will, I promise."

You put the note into the box, on top of all the other ones. Wondering if some day, someone will buy a box of old notes, finding Thomas' note to you and if they will make up a story why it was written, just as you did the night before. Maybe the sad notes haven't been as sad as Thomas wanted to read them, maybe they had the or another happy end right around the corner as well.

.###.

The love notes were inspired by this Vice article and this tumblr post. I want to make it really clear that especially the last one was written completely by myself though. This panettone ice cream does exist and is a Christmas special you get during Christmas, so does Venchi the chocolate shop.

Shitty gif which I was too lazy to scale to an appropiate size? Also mine.

Taglist:

@writingmaneskin, @iamtashaquinn, @teatrodellavita, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @its-afucking-mess, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @cheese-toastie-11, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso

[giantkillerjack]

Yo the writing in this movie is weak as shit

Like, the animation looks good and there are some fun segments, but why is the writing so fucking WEAK???

This is fuckin' embarrassing.

41 years since Miyazaki's Castle of Cagliostro established Lupin could be likeable, and you have somehow made a movie in which Lupin threatens a girl with sexual assault and then also there is a sympathetic Nazi character?????

And! AND! what is this shit?? What is this utter laziness??? EXPLAIN TO ME HOW THIS NOTHING-ASS PLAIN WHITE BREAD CHARACTER DESIGN IS NOT JUST ANNA FROM FROZEN??? EXPLAIN IT TO ME.

And she's next to the Lupin characters, who are so dynamic and alive! She looks like an unfinished 3D model base this is nothing.

And, more importantly, will someone please explain to me why this horrendously-written character is present for the climax instead of anyone in the Lupin gang???

Like, let me be absolutely fucking clear: All this girl actually does in the movie is nearly cause a second Holocaust. Literally, her actions are the thing that allows the Third Reich to nearly regain power. That is the only thing she actually succeeds in. She fails at every other thing she tries to do!

And I don't care that she feels bad about it! I don't care that she did it accidentally! The fact is, this is literally the only impact the writers gave her in the story! The only explicitly Jewish character that survives the movie! They just! Didn't catch the optics on that, I guess! They don't give her something heroic to do later in the film that has any tangible weight to it, either! The old Nazi character does that! They just plum forgot about Laetitia I guess! Too bad she takes up 60% of the screentime in this film!

I mean, this movie starts with a Nazi shooting a Jewish man in the head, and then that Nazi raises that man's granddaughter as his own in order to trick her into doing Nazi shit for him. In the first scene he interacts with her in a parental capacity, it is clear that she fears being beaten by his metal cane. That Nazi then goes on to be framed in a sympathetic and undeniably warm light by the film. He actually does more for the good guys than Laetitia does! His death is given way more weight than the Jewish character he kills at the beginning.

Gods, this is shit. This is so fucking disrespectful.

I mean, if Laetitia was a golden retriever, the plot would have changed literally not at all.

In fact, it would have absolutely been an improvement because then her actions, characterization, and relationships with the other characters would have made sense. She would have been way more likeable too!

GENTLEMEN, If your female character could easily be replaced by a lamp, a prized possession, or a Pomeranian, then you have fucked up.

"Arf! Arf arf! Grrrrrr!!!", "MANGY DOG!!"

And Laetitia is, no mistaking, the main character of this film. THIS film. You know? The film called Lupin that is supposed to be about Lupin except it's actually about the world's most generic girl reacting to Lupin??

And all this focus on Laetitia comes at the expense of time with the Lupin gang!

Fujiko has like 4 lines!

Goemon has like, 6!

No one in this movie has a character arc, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE LITERAL ABUSIVE-PARENT NAZI CHARACTER.

OOPSY DAISY.

Anyway, the main value of this movie is that Jigen is so so so so hot. But damn. I do think he could've still been hot in a non-shitty film. 🤔🤔🤔