#and nostalgia for something that feels so deeply intimately familiar

[pearlprincess02]

norman fucking rockwell! by lana del rey (album astrology)

virgo sun in 4th house

norman fucking rockwell! by lana del rey embodies the essence of a virgo sun in the 4th house, radiating a core identity that is introspective, reflective, and deeply rooted in realism. this album’s central creative focus brings a careful, almost surgical analysis of the american dream, relationships, and vulnerability. like a virgo sun, it dissects flaws with a sharp eye, revealing truths through precise lyrics and raw imagery. set in the 4th house, it feels intimate and nostalgic, capturing moments of melancholy and longing for something deeper, as if lana is both cherishing and challenging her inner world. the album’s energy is honest and earthy, grounding listeners in emotions that feel lived-in, like memories or family stories shared in quiet moments at home. it’s an album that expresses itself with virgo’s critical sincerity, wrapped in the 4th house’s yearning for connection and roots.

“there’s somethin’ that i never knew− i wanted”

virgo moon in 4th house

with a virgo moon in the 4th house, norman fucking rockwell! pulls listeners into an emotional depth that feels both raw and quietly profound. the album’s mood is tinged with a delicate sadness, a bittersweet yearning for understanding and truth. the virgo moon here brings a deeply introspective, almost analytical tenderness to the lyrics, peeling back layers of love, disappointment, and hope with precision. there’s a calm, measured sensitivity that allows listeners to feel safe delving into their own vulnerabilities as they experience the music. in the 4th house, this emotional tone feels almost like home—like flipping through old photographs or contemplating memories that linger in familiar spaces. it creates an intimate, inward journey that speaks to our need for comfort, familiarity, and authenticity. this album connects with the listener’s inner world by revealing beauty in the mundane and inviting reflection on the fragility of love and dreams, grounding emotions in earthy realism while enveloping them in an aura of nostalgia.

“oh god, miss you on my lips; it’s me your little venice bitch; you’re in the yard, i light the fire; and as the summer fades away; nothing gold can stay”

gemini rising with gemini part of fortune in 1st house

as a gemini rising with the part of fortune in the 1st house, norman fucking rockwell! presents itself with a magnetic, curious allure that draws listeners in with wit, duality, and a playful edge. this album’s public image is vibrant, sharp, and intriguingly complex—embracing gemini’s charm and cleverness while hinting at deeper layers. its visual branding and aesthetic, from the album cover’s americana imagery to the videos’ nods to nostalgia and pop culture, feels effortless yet richly layered, as if it’s a conversation between past and present, reality and myth. the gemini rising energy brings an air of unpredictability and intrigue, inviting listeners to engage with lana’s world of contrasts and contradictions. marketing and imagery capture this dual spirit, creating a first impression that’s intellectual, charismatic, and ever so slightly mischievous, promising something both familiar and fresh. with the part of fortune here, there’s a sense of serendipity and luck, as if the album’s image effortlessly resonates with audiences and taps into the collective moment, making it memorable and instantly iconic.

“you lose your way, just take my hand; you’re lost at sea, then i’ll command your boat to me again; don’t look too far, right where you are, that’s where i am; i’m your man”

virgo mercury in 4th house

with mercury in virgo in the 4th house, the lyrical content of norman fucking rockwell! is sharp, introspective, and rooted in a deep sense of realism. the lyrics carry the precision and detail of virgo, revealing moments and emotions with a clear, almost unfiltered honesty. mercury’s influence here creates storytelling that is thoughtful and reflective, dissecting themes of love, loss, and disillusionment with an analytical edge that feels both sincere and grounded. each line feels meticulously crafted, offering an unembellished look at vulnerability and truth, as if capturing fragments of a diary or intimate conversations. placed in the 4th house, the album’s communication style feels personal and nostalgic, connecting with listeners on a soulful level as it explores themes tied to home, belonging, and the complexities of inner life. the intellectual themes are nuanced and subtle, inviting listeners to look deeper, to examine the flaws and hidden beauty in relationships and in the american dream, through lyrics that are poetic yet accessible. mercury in virgo here gives the album a voice that’s precise, thoughtful, and capable of sparking introspection, drawing listeners into lana’s world with a sense of quiet depth.

“there’s things i wanna say to you; but i’ll just let you live; like if you hold me without hurting me; you’ll be the first who ever did”

virgo venus in 4th house

with venus in virgo in the 4th house, norman fucking rockwell! embodies a refined, understated beauty that is both nostalgic and hauntingly intimate. the album’s aesthetic feels grounded and meticulous, capturing moments of love, longing, and heartbreak with a sense of elegance that avoids excess and embraces subtlety. venus in virgo brings a careful attention to harmony, with melodies and arrangements that feel earthy and almost vintage, drawing listeners into a world that’s as comforting as it is melancholic. each song feels like it’s been crafted with care, balancing raw emotion with an appreciation for simplicity and detail. in the 4th house, this aesthetic takes on a deeply personal, home-like quality, evoking images of cherished memories, quiet rooms, and intimate spaces. romantic themes within the album resonate with a sense of authenticity and vulnerability, exploring love not through grand gestures but through the quiet, often imperfect moments that make relationships real. this placement gives norman fucking rockwell! a timeless, nostalgic charm, creating a listening experience that feels like returning to something familiar yet emotionally stirring.

“but, at best, i can say i’m not sad; ’cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have; hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have”

virgo mars in 4th house

with mars in virgo in the 4th house, norman fucking rockwell! channels an energy that is both quietly intense and precisely controlled. the album’s drive feels measured yet purposeful, much like the meticulous nature of virgo itself. while there is no overt aggression or overt boldness, the music conveys an undercurrent of tension and quiet determination. mars in Virgo imbues the album with a sense of practical passion, as though the energy behind each track is carefully calculated, yet not without emotion. the pace of the album moves with intention, never rushed but always purposeful, drawing the listener into its rhythm with a steady, almost meditative cadence. the intensity is subtle—passionate, yes, but expressed through careful restraint and precision. in the 4th house, the drive is tied to a desire for emotional truth and inner security, as if the music is a way of navigating personal reflection, confronting past wounds, and seeking peace within. the assertiveness here is grounded, never too forceful, but rather commanding through its quiet vulnerability and introspection.

“is it safe to just be who we are?”

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[scribeofmorpheus]

Bellanaris [2.5]

[Part 1] [Part 2][AO3]

When he could cry no longer, spent and heavy with the weight of a thousand years of suffering, Revas helped him remove the armour that was as much boon as it was burden. With every buckle they undid together, every piece they removed from his body, she was graced with a new wound or gash.

As more bits of armour came off, Revas felt inclined to kiss each new or old scar she’d never seen marble his skin before. In the greyness of the Fade, his once freckled and youthful complexion became weathered; pallid.

She gasped when she saw the three deep claw marks on his ribs from where the dragon had scraped flesh. With care, she traced her fingers around the dried blood, holding back tears of her own this time.

When he’d fought the dragon Lusacan in his wolf form, she’d only managed to catch glimpses through rubble and broken walls, but what she’d heard had frightened her more. The ground-shaking forces with which both beasts had clashed had made it impossible to breathe beneath Tevinter’s streets.

She remembered catching a glimpse of those eyes. Six flames in the dark. All striking and set upon his enemy. It was then she finally comprehended the stark differences between them. His power outweighed that of any being she'd come across; a whole league beyond the power she merely borrowed with the mark. A mark that had elevated her to religious saviour.

With a sharp inhale, Solas winced, and Revas realised she’d placed her entire palm upon his wounds as if attempting to heal them with magic.

Frantic, she pulled her arm back, eyes wide, “Did I hurt you?”

“You could never, vhen’an,” he shook his head. The muscles near his mouth pulled to one side, though battered, he looked as sly as the wolf he was. He smirked up at her, eyes carrying memory, fondness, and a little joy. A deep rumble of pleasure rose from his chest. Not quite a laugh, but close enough. “Your hand is cold.”

Revas frowned, placing her hand on her cheek to feel its temperature. It was impossible to tell if she was flush or cold. But the hand felt as she did: stable.

Then Solas laughed, awareness arrested within the warmth of her eyes, “It was nice. Soothing almost.”

Then it struck her in a wave of nostalgia. That night in the marshes, when she’d fallen ill with a sickness in her lungs, when he’d applied a balm to her exposed back, their skin touching in such an intimate way that left them both flushed.

She returned her hand to his side, biting back the urge to smile when he sucked in a breath again.

“Better?” she asked.

“Familiar,” he breathed contently, gaze dipping lower still, towards the curve of her lips. “And something I have yearned so deeply to for.”

He leaned in first, this time. Head dipping low, eyes turning hooded with desire and exhaustion. He tilted his head to make sure he’d take her lips with the uncut side of his mouth. Revas pressed herself closer, relenting to his desire as his tongue brushed against the top of her mouth. His fingertips raked at the side of her scalp in lulling motions while the pads of his thumbs stroked either side of her cheeks. With a moan, he surged forward, swallowing down what sounded like a moan and a grunt of pain all at once. The way his tongue moved with hers, Revas could have sworn he was trying to speak the word vhen’an into her very being, over and over again. And just as her head began to spin, he pulled back, collapsing to the ground with a tired sigh and a sad smile.

“You can never be free of me now,” he laced his fingers with hers. “It seems I am my most selfish with you.”

“I would not care to be anywhere else than right by your side,” she replied.  

Revas lay beside his half-naked form, accepting his advances as he nestled beside her, his ear pressed to her heart.

[roadkillxd]

❝ heaven is here if you want it. ❞

I wanted to share another OC tidbit. This one is a small exploration about the relationship between the captain and Grim, and also fleshing out Grim's characterization.

Price x FTM!OC Grim  ↪ 603 words — WIP

Grim’s eyes were shut, facing toward the showerhead as the cool water ran down his sore and battered body. It trickled across his stinging cuts and aching bruises, soothing his roaring thoughts to a white static, as all pain did.

He hadn’t realized he was shivering until he could feel heat emanating a few inches behind him, the shift of an arm reaching past him to fidget with the shower controls.

“You’ll give yourself hypothermia,” Price’s gruff voice murmurs, hot breath fanning across Grim’s neck, making him flinch.

The man’s voice is honey soft but never smooth—comforting in ways Grim desires and equally fears.

It’s nostalgia, memories buried past years of suffering—of a small frame in a too big jumper, little hands clasped around a steaming mug of apple tea, honeyed and with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Flushed nose and cheeks and blue fingertips, warming by the fire after a long day of shoveling snow off the drive.

The water slowly warms until the captain deems fit enough to step fully into the spray along with the shorter man. He places large, calloused hands on Grim’s hips, his thumbs rubbing in little circles against the pale skin.

It’s not intimate, never is, but it’s familiar. It’s not romantic, and it’s not love—love is always just outside the door, looking for a way in—it began as an arrangement, not a proposition, and became a burning habit.

Price had been clear when he’d offered.

Holding the highest rank of a non-commissioned soldier had its perks, but a private washroom with his quarters wasn’t one of them. The captain didn’t see the black ink like the others, and so he knew, and he offered his own private shower Grim’s first day on base.

“Don’t mistake this for what it isn’t,” he’d said, voice low, leaned up against the front of his desk as Grim stood in a loose parade rest before him, “first of all, the boys wouldn’t give two shits what bits you’re packing, but 141 isn’t the only team on base, and I can’t speak for everyone. Secondly, this isn’t a proposition. There’s no give and take here. You get my shower if you want it and I get my peace of mind. Understood?”

It took four months for those rules to change. The captain was a stubborn bastard, but equally so was Grim.

The shorter man released a shaky exhale, turning in Price’s hold, the warm water tickling his spine as he blocked the spray. Price’s hands remained steadfast on his hips, and Grim’s own spanned up the plane of Price’s stomach, palms flat against the furry, tanned skin as he smoothed up and down the muscular torso, feeling not too dissimilar from petting a horse, he thought for a brief moment. 

His ever-present dead expression shifted minutely, the corner of his lips twitching up for a mere second, and Price smiled softly in return, staring down at those big, blank gray-green eyes that refused to meet his own.

Price wasn’t hard, and Grim wasn’t aroused, despite the attention they gave each other’s bodies, smoothing hands over scarred skin, digging calloused fingertips into tense muscles, pressing kisses to collarbones and shoulders.

They’d had sex before, of course, only quick and dirty in the sense of its context, no matter how thoroughly and deeply Price worshiped Theodore's body, always taking his sweet time.

This, however, was a practice in contact, an exchange of warmth. Under all the pain, Grim yearned to touch a body that wasn’t bleeding or cold and stiff with rigor mortis, and Price, despite the consequences, was something of a romantic.

[kuroosdarling]

what ifff, knight!kuroo one day decides u two have messed around enough n that he can’t keep doing this. In a heated argument, he tells u that he doesn’t want u anymore n u should find someone else but in fact, he’s so deeply in love with u that it hurts. n that is exactly why he lets u go, for u, for the sake of ur kingdom. He turns cold, just does his duty n doesn’t involve himself further in ur life..

it hurts more when he starts calling u "princess" n not by ur name. no more casual chatting, no fun...n u just bear it. ur parents want u to marry the charming prince who had taken a liking to u during the ball...n well, u agree coz how long could u deny them anyways? everyone’s happy but there's one person whose heart absolutely shatters upon hearing the news. he has no right to be heartbroken after all, he wanted this to happen, right? he reminds himself.

u look absolutely stunning on ur wedding day. Tetsu cannot stop looking at u n he constantly has to remind himself that u are not his anymore but if desiring another man's wife is a sin then he's more than willing to be a sinner. coz he still does want u so so bad.

u ask ur trusted handmaidens to come with u to ur husband's kingdom. n unfortunately, ur father suggests Kuroo to go with u too since he's the person he trusts the most to keep u safe n u feel most comfortable with him by ur side. Kuroo wants to say no badly, but he settles for a "as u wish, ur highness".

oh it’s a pain for him. he watches ur new husband give u kisses, he sees u two walking into the same room. it’s when he catches u alone that he expresses how much he hates all of this, how he should be the one to give u kisses n hold u. u catch his lips in an instant, he pulls back slightly but gives up when he sees ur pretty face. that one kiss turns to two, three n more. n those kisses lead to hot, passionate, intimate moments when ur husband’s not around. the sneaking around, subtle touches, longing stares….

he can never be yours fully, n u can never be his. he’s the “other man” who’s breaking a marriage, he feels guilty, but all those thoughts are thrown out of the window when u ask him to meet him in private, when u kiss him so sweetly n when u look so beautiful on his cock.

n u feel bad because ur husband’s not horrible by any means but no one could compare to ur tetsu, the only man who hold ur heart.

whew the knight n a married princess no less?? how scandalous!

gosh im sorry u must be sick of me typing brainless things into ur asks 😭

zuro anon

ZURO MY LOVE ! sorry this took me a second to get to, i wanted to give it my full attention :3 never apologize for sending stuff like this omg i live and breathe for it <333

okay this hurts my heart SM !! but in the absolute best possible away. bc it would b so realistic for him to pull back like that to try and protect his heart. but ultimately breaking it more … oh god 😭 im unwell.

imagining the night before the wedding you go to visit him in the middle of the night in hopes he’ll say he loves you, to tell you not to marry him, something.

but he doesn’t 😔 bc at the end of the day he’s a good knight and he knows that you marrying the prince is what’s best for the kingdom. he holds a certain amount of responsibility and he knows he can’t keep you from doing your duties.

or maybe he does — to an extent. he gives you one last night with him, the ultimate send off. making you come undone over and over again and savoring every time you mewl out his name. he knows it’ll hurt 10x more the next day when he sees you walk down the aisle to your betrothed but he can’t help but be a little selfish, even for a moment.

and then after some time and the two of you reunite?? ur right, there would be so. many. conflicted. feelings. UGH !! but there’s a certain level of nostalgia and familiarity with sneaking around with him, which is the warmest welcome being in a new place. your heart truly does only belong to him, and eventually if it comes down to it and your husband found out, you wouldn’t be that mad.

ur right, the scandal would be delicious >:3

[mysticmusingg]

Embracing Change: The Magic of Home and Shared Moments

Once again, I found myself at his house, a place that holds countless memories of our time together. It was here that we forged a deep connection, sharing intimate conversations, laughter, and tears. This house became our sanctuary, a home away from home, where we experienced the joys and challenges of life side by side. As I sat there, a rush of nostalgia washed over me, knowing that our time in this place was coming to an end. During our meeting today, we engaged in open and honest conversations about our feelings. I expressed my emotions, sharing my sadness and anticipation of missing him.  While he may not readily express his emotions, I know deep down that he will miss me too. We reminisced about the day we met, our first conversations, and how our connection gradually grew into a beautiful relationship. Each moment we discussed held profound significance, further reinforcing the depth of our bond.

As we sat near the window, with the rain pouring outside, we shared a cigarette and engaged in a heartfelt conversation. In that moment, I realized the immense comfort he brought to my life. Despite the impending separation, being by his side felt like home. We discussed our hopes, fears, and dreams, and the genuine connection we shared. किसी ने सही ही कहा है "कुछ लोगों के साथ सिर्फ वक्त बिताने से सब कुछ सही हो जाता", and this conversation actually made everything feel right.

In an unexpected twist, we found ourselves driving in the rain, an experience neither of us particularly enjoyed. We laughed and embraced the simplicity of the situation, finding joy even in something we typically disliked. It was a testament to the magic of our friendship, how we could create beautiful memories even in unexpected circumstances. As our meeting neared its end, a mix of emotions overwhelmed us. We both understood that change and distance awaited us the following day. The thought of leaving him and the familiarity of his house left an ache in my heart. Yet, I also recognized that love knows no boundaries. Our connection is strong enough to withstand the physical separation, and I am committed to nurturing our friendship despite the miles that will soon separate us.

Today's meeting served as a bittersweet reminder of the beauty and impermanence of life. We shared laughter, tears, and expressed our hopes and fears. In the face of imminent change, I deeply appreciate the memories we have created and the friendship we have cultivated.Our time together in this house holds a special place in my heart. It was here that we came close, sharing numerous conversations, cooking for each other, finding solace in each other's embrace, shedding tears, and sharing laughter. This house became a home, a sanctuary where our friendship blossomed. Though challenges may lie ahead, I choose to embrace change with an open heart and trust that our paths will cross again someday.

Our friendship has taught me that farewells mark new beginnings. As I bid farewell to my dear friend and boyfriend, I will hold onto the cherished memories we have shared and the love that binds us. In this journey called life, friendships are the threads that weave a tapestry of beautiful moments and valuable lessons. So, as I embark on this new chapter, I will continue to embrace change, treasure the memories, and foster meaningful friendships that transcend time and distance. 

[ayahimes]

😘 😘 😘

international kissing day / not accepting

𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 , 𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 . it's a burning mark embedded deep into her skin ( to be claimed , to be his ) . how it makes the ice within her soul melt , that glacial part of her a servant to his whim . sapphire gaze moves to where he'd kissed her , the invisible brand still seemingly hot . somehow the ghosted touch of haitham still lingers even after he's pulled away from her . how long had it been since she'd felt such familiarity ? such intimacy masked by the innocence of touch ? too long , she thinks . ayaka pulls her hand back to her chest , the other wrapping around it . to be reunited under such circumstance seems almost cruel . it had been months since she'd last seen him , since she left sumeru on a one way voyage back home . little did he realize that in her absence she'd left part of herself there with him .

a kiss on the wrist is something lovers do , and they are , indeed not , lovers . the gesture is bold and intimate , but done without any prying eyes . it seems almost laughable at his timing for such a greeting . methodical , as usual . ❛ it's ... ❜ a pause , lips parted as words fail to come out . she had known why he was there ; ayato had extended the invitation to invite the grand acting grand sage at her wedding . yet , to see him in the flesh after so long creates a pang of nostalgia which she had eluded for far too long . ❛ it's nice to see you again , haitham , ❜ her voice is tinged with sadness , her eyes saying everything she cannot . she pushes all of those feelings of anguish aside , her manners lost to her body's need for touch . perhaps it's pushing the boundaries of what they are now but in more ways than one he is still important to her . the small of her moves to him , arms wrapping around him in a hug as she invades his personal space . even if they had ended things she still cared for him deeply . ❛ i'm sorry for this ... but i hope it isn't awkward ... it's just been too long . ❜

[aleburton]

Alex wished she could have provided Zach with a more substantial response. In a setting more intimate, just the two of them, she might have shared the deeper sentiments she held about the piece he had written. She would have expressed her regret for not realizing the depth of his pain, for not recognizing how much he needed her, while also acknowledging that she, too, was grappling with own hurt. She contemplated what might have transpired had she answered his call on that particular evening. In the quiet recesses of her thoughts, she envisioned an alternate scenario. Learning of Zach’s troubles and his incarceration, she would have driven straight down to the Los Angeles County Jail, ready to bail him out, regardless of the cost. She would have taken him home, nursed each of his wounds until he was better, and stayed with him for as long as he needed her to. Maybe even forever. A quiet laugh escaped from between her lips as she entertained the thought, reminiscing about the depth of her past love for Zach. The recollections of how fiercely she loved him and the lengths she would go to ensure his happiness were unbounded. Perhaps it was a good thing she hadn’t answered. Would their situation be any better, or would it have continued to worsen? She lifted her gaze, observing the excitement radiating from Andrew at the prospect of breathing new life into Zach’s career. His smile stretched from ear to ear, reflecting his genuine love for music and the artists he took under his wing. It was difficult not to appreciate his simplicity, especially now in comparison to Zach. Her heart swelled with gratitude for the life they were building together, and she marveled at the journey that had led her to this point. She was in love with him and hoped she would never have to be the subject of someone’s sad love song again.

As Kylie stood up from the piano stool and crossed the room to comfort Zach, Alex’s eyes followed. He appeared to be need of something, drifting out of a daze, and Kylie, with her dainty fingers, squeezed around his knees. Quickly, she picked up where Zach had left off, seamlessly continuing the conversation with Andrew. It was evident that, as much as might have hesitated to admit, they seemed to be good for one another. Kylie hadn’t been tainted by the tumultuous past that marked her history with Zach. She slid into the role that Alex had one occupied, unscathed and ready to receive this newly tempered love from him, a love that Alex herself had never experienced. They were a team, openly and proudly displaying this camaraderie that went clearly extended beyond their musical interests. It made her want to choke down any feelings of nostalgia she had. The past, with its dangerous, violent, and traumatizing ending, contrasted starkly with the present. This was their new reality, and she needed to reconcile with it. Zach delved into his creative process and Alex took a steadying breath to calm her nerves. The mention of a familiar name stirred a number of emotions within her, all positive but she could not bring herself to smile about them. Ryan, whom she had loved and still did, though now from a distance. While Alex had managed to maintain her relationship with Eden, there were boundaries needed to protect her sanity. The fact that Eden continued to spend time with Zach and, later Kylie, out of obligation was difficult for her. She did not want to complicate matters more by adding in another person so close to him. She prayed that Ryan understood.

He likely did. She and Ryan were similar beings, sensitive, and deeply affected by the occasional turmoil of their relationships. They had weathered the same hurt on the night when Eden had drunkenly attempted to kiss Zach, a wound from which he appeared to have bounced back more swiftly than Alex. And Ryan and Eden survived, still together, after all of this time. Andrew practically bubbled with excitement, recognizing the potential goldmine of material they were sitting on. However, he was astute in reading the emotional currents of the room, sensing that something was plaguing Zach. He didn’t seem to share Andrew or Kylie’s enthusiasm. Despite Andrew’s inclination to step in, gently correct, and highlight Zach’s numerous talents and accolade, Kylie took the initiative. Her voice, soft and soothing, wrapped around him, lifting him up in a supportive embrace. You’re lucky. I hope you know that. Andrew nodded his head, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “When he’s ready,” he replied, understandingly. Feeling uncomfortable and yearning for relief from the moment, Alex cleared her throat quietly and shifted, placing her bare feet on the floor as if on autopilot to stand. To escape. Simultaneously, Zach announced his exhaustion, a subtle pea to shift the weight of the conversation away from himself. Alex turned toward Andrew, her hand curving gently around the back of his neck as she suggested, “Maybe we should pick up another time. He’s tired, and honestly, I am too.” Andrew, meeting her gaze, silently agreed. He turned his chin slightly, pressing his lips to her wrist, where her warm pulse beat just beneath the surface. She smiled. “You’re probably right. That LAX to JFK flight is not for the weak. Kylie, how long did you guys plan on staying? Maybe we can put aside some time before you go to flesh out that new song, and how we can make your music video dreams a reality.”

Uncertain of her emotions in the moment, Alex only knew that she needed the night to be over. Her past was glaring at her, and she felt a need to retreat, to think without the constant reminder only a few steps away. As she glanced up at Zach, her soft features likely appeared hardened, though not necessarily out of anger. It could have been tiredness, emotional depletion, or perhaps the full depth of reality settling in – something she wasn’t quite prepared to confront. In an attempt to create physical distance, she left the living room and returned to the kitchen to start clearing the table. Andrew would probably intervene shortly, insisting that Lucy would handle it in the morning, but she needed something to busy herself with until they departed. Methodically, she began collecting the champagne glasses, one by one, walking them over to the sink. She placed the glasses down, and a momentary urge to reach out to Eden washed over her. She had to tell her about what had happened. She peered around the kitchen, a realization dawning upon her that her phone was still in Zach’s possession.

As Zach sang, he held back. With the venue so small and the setting so intimate, there was no need for him to utilize the full effect of his vocal abilities. Even in doing so, anyone familiar with his voice would recognize the stark difference between its timbre then and now. He was healthier than he had ever been, and it was evident in the artful, easy swoops of his singing, the control he wrought over his breath and agility, the easy application of rasping without harming his already shot respiratory system. Though he had avoided their faces throughout, when he turned back he saw that Andrew had noticed the change, and was grinning ear to ear. It was true that Zach held the promise of all Andrew could give him in high esteem, and was reluctant to risk the opportunity to work with him; but Zach was an undeniable goldmine for the Label. Andrew could take the Dupree legacy and send it, straight shot, to the moon by having their name attached to Zach’s return. Not only was it greatly anticipated, but the nature, depth and ability surrounding the star everyone assumed they knew had since transformed. Despite his enthusiasm, and wanting to meet him in the middle, Zach could do nothing but search for Alex’s eyes. She gave him little in the way of a response; a stoic, unintelligible expression held her pretty face hostage as Kylie applauded and squealed on her piano stool, and Andrew began to praise him.

Zach couldn’t hear any of it. He was sucked through a time vacuum, spit out on the other side in that cold holding cell, knuckles white around the iron bars and jaw cemented as he shook the metal into clamorous life. “Calm down. We’re going to need a different number to call if you want outta here by tomorrow morning. Last chance.” Zach abruptly stopped shaking the bars, a cruel half-laugh pushed out from his nostrils. Unsteady on his feet, one eye half-closed with the swelling and with blood drying around his nose, he rebutted. “Respectfully, sir, fuck that. Let me call again. She’ll pick up this time.” The officer had peered at him as though in a certain amount of pain, giving him a look like a wince, then he passed his stubble-rough chin over his shoulder in muttered conference with another cop. Zach shook the bars hard, his foot and knee slamming into them in incoherent unison, the cocktail in his blood triggering a sudden violent rise. “Fucking. Please! Just wait - she’ll -” The cop interrupted him, square shoulders and thick brow. “Son, are you a danger to yourself?” Zach was hysterical; his laugh was so loud and sudden, like a bad dog yanking on its chain. All he saw in his mind was a rapidly unravelling reel of Alex. “What does that mean? Am I gonna try killing myself if you leave me in here overnight?” He smiled, sinister and abandoned, his palm coming down on the bars to rattle them. “If I say yes, do you have to let me out and send me to the psych ward?” He laughed cruelly, spinning away from the bars and landing hard on the plastic bench, flattening his back out. He groaned. “I can’t die, sir. Tried that already. Tried it twice, actually.” He laughed, manic tears squeezed down his temples and disappearing into his hairline. “Just wait,” he hummed, a facade of calmness becoming of him. “She’ll call back.”

In the present, he shuddered out from the memory like shedding dead skin, blinking the picture to life before him. “What? Thank you,” Zach muttered, tossing a glance to Kylie like a life buoy ring to the water’s surface. She picked up in a millisecond, floating from the piano stool to his side, loping a small arm over his broad shoulders. “Two hundred was a shot in the dark, but he has a bunch. Over a hundred, for sure.” She nodded, smiling at him, pulling her arm back to squeeze his knee. “Right, Z?” Zach looked at Andrew and cleared his throat, then nodded, the aural information he’d missed floating back to him. How the hell did you pull that off? The answer was almost laughable. Well, that’s simple, really; if you’d take a casual look to your left. He’d pulled it off because it had been survival; he’d done it because he couldn’t stop, or he would’ve done something much worse. Far more stupid. Zach only shrugged, a sheepishness becoming of his face. “I guess I had a lot to get off my chest. And, well, you’re familiar with Ryan Santos?” Andrew nodded; of course he was. He had done his research. Not to mention Ryan had now produced records for a great number of industry hit-makers. Zach’s eyes instinctively cut to Alex, but only for a second. A glimpse of their old life; when Ryan was her close friend, too. “Mm. Well. I wrote a lot just for myself, just fucking around and trying to process shit. Whatever. But any Ry got his hands on were polished within two days.” Andrew blinked, taken aback. “You’re saying a lot of these are recorded? Finished?” Zach reluctantly, slowly, nodded, leaning back into the sofa and away from the bodies closing in on him to breathe a little. “In a loose sense of the word. Demos. I’ve never listened to any of them back, really. There’s a strong possibility most of them are dogshit.” Kylie scoffed, then, shaking her head. “Don’t do that,” she said, the most like her private self she had sounded all night; voice an octave lower, her tone lacking that self-preservering spring. “They’re brilliant. You know they are.” 

Hand still sturdy on his knee, she turned to Andrew in all sincerity, flashing those impossible blue eyes. Now she was sure of her own fate, she was not concerned with Zach usurping any interactions; Andrew wanted both of them, and this had been made clear enough with ink to paper. “I swear to you. Whatever he puts out next, it’ll be unbelievable. You’re lucky. I hope you know that.” She was deadpan; dead serious. Zach felt he needed to squirm free of the whole evening. He wanted desperately to be enthralled by talk of his future, but he would not be free of the ghostly hand wrapped around his throat until he and Alex had had a chance to clear the air. If she told him she wasn’t comfortable with him putting any more music out about her, then at least three quarters of that backlog was lost. But maybe that was for the best. Zach produced a hard smile, gaze flitting over the three of them. “Let’s shelve the me talk for another night. OK? I’m jet-lagged.” He waved his hand dismissively, then set it atop Kylie’s, subtly sliding it from his knee. “I can’t give the conversation what it needs. Not right now. Talk about Kylie. Or Alex. Or - you, Drew.”

[mechieonu]

it's been years since i first watched this scene and i still receive the most unholy dopamine hit when I rewatch it. it's SO good

The PHENOMENAL cinematics, the instrumental of his world playing as the sirens are blaring, their banter when Elise—previously terrified Elise—points out the BURNING MASS OF SHIP HULL AND INDICATES YEAH, LET'S GO FOR IT. the way he hefts her up into the air and they almost make it, the explosion and crash afterwards, and then the disbelieving, delirious laughter because wow, we could've died right there. and elise's motif gently sweeping in afterwards.

my ramblings simply do not do it justice go watch the cutscene!!

[supernovafics]

𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 (𝟏)

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

summary: in which you didn’t expect to end up in this “thing” with tom. a thing that you hated referring to as an affair even though that was technically correct. all of this was selfish and sometimes you hated yourself for it, but somehow you found yourself having such a strong love for tom in such a short amount of time that it negated all of the ways in which you knew this was wrong. however, all good things must come to an end, right?

warnings: explicit language, cheating (on the reader’s part), so much angst, mentions of sex 

word count: 3.5k words

author’s note: i have been working on this for a few months and i’m very very proud of the end product (probably my favorite thing i’ve written on here so far hehe). originally this was 8.1k words, but i thought that was too much at once so i split it up in two parts and the second part will be up tomorrow! for now i hope you enjoy this first part :)

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Make sure nobody sees you leave. Hood over your head, keep your eyes down.”

Hearing the beginning lyrics of the familiar song surprised you. Not just because you knew the song, but also because the words in it stuck out to you, especially at that specific moment. And then there was the fact that this song had never been on the playlist until right then. 

You knew every song on that car ride playlist, which you and Tom had curated over the past three months, like the back of your hand. Even when you and he weren’t together, you would sometimes listen to it just for nostalgia. To remind you of what you missed during the times you wouldn’t see each other, which actually happened more often than not. 

“When was this added to the playlist?” You asked. You wanted to see Tom’s face when he responded, but you were driving, as you always did. You never did mind, though, being the one that drove when you and Tom would have these secret late-night meetings. You actually really loved driving, especially around the random streets of London that were your home. 

“I think it’s quite fitting. Honestly, it should’ve been the first song added to the playlist,” Tom answered, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could just hear the amused smile gracing his features. 

You sighed and shook your head, trying to bite back your own smile. “I hate you.”

“I actually think that’s the complete opposite way you feel about me,” Tom responded, and this time you glanced over at him, holding his gaze for a quick moment. 

He was a thousand percent right with his words, but you didn’t want to admit that. Although, when you two were engaged in much more intimate moments, the quiet murmurs of multiple “I love yous” were usually the only thing you both would say. 

You thought about those words and how quickly they managed to become a reality. It was a reality that you could never fully have, but it was still something that you, nonetheless, cherished deeply. And even once it was long over, you would still hold those moments and feelings you had for Tom close to your heart. 

You knew you would especially look back on the start of it all with a weird fondness. Mainly because it took place on a night that started off poorly, but it quickly managed to turn into something different. 

• • •

Six Months Ago

Movie production wrap parties had always been your favorite. Seeing the entire cast and production crew come together to celebrate the work that had been done over the past few months always warmed your heart. It almost felt as good as watching the final product of the movie.

However, you couldn’t find the heart to enjoy the party like you normally would, so instead, you found yourself on a random balcony in the expansive house you were in. 

Your long term boyfriend, Matthew, couldn’t make it to the wrap party of this latest film you had been working on as a Lead Production Assistant, and even though him accompanying you to work parties was a rarity at this point, it was still slightly disappointing because this was the first time you had a pretty significant role on a film set. 

Instead of focusing on that disappointment, you wanted to have fun just like you always did, but it felt different this time. For some reason, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that your relationship was deteriorating, and as much as you didn’t want it to, you couldn’t help but think that maybe that was the way things were meant to go. 

You and Matthew had been together for almost two years but had known each other for closer to three. He was a writer, an astonishingly good one, and at first, it was endearing, how deeply he cared about his work. However, now it almost felt like you were always an afterthought. 

And you were starting to wonder if it was worth it.

If it was worth it to be with someone who you were almost certain could never love you as much as the words he would write down on paper. You had never admitted that thought aloud, and you did not know if it was a thousand percent true, but for some reason, it really did feel like it.

This was not the first time you had these random thoughts of doubt toward your relationship, but it was the first time that it was not just a lingering, fleeting thought. 

Before your brain could continue spiraling, you heard the sound of movement from behind you, and you jumped, startled. 

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. When you found this random bedroom that had a balcony attached, you did not expect anyone else to find you because of how big the house was. The wrap party took place at the director’s home, a huge place in the random suburbs of South London. After making the appropriate amount of small talk to the few friends you made during filming, you debated on simply leaving the party and wallowing in self-pity in the comfort of your own home, a home that was shared with your boyfriend. But, you decided to wander around the house instead because the thought of going back to your apartment made you feel even more sad. 

Somehow you managed to find that balcony you were currently on, which felt completely isolated from everyone else. Because of that, you fully did not expect anyone to interrupt your spiraling thoughts. 

However, you realized how wrong that assumption was when you saw a guy standing at the door of the bedroom that adjoined the balcony. 

“Oh, hi, sorry,” He immediately said when he noticed you and your simultaneous confused and surprised expression. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“I think there’s one through that door,” You said, pointing to the door that was next to what you assumed was the closet. 

“Thanks,” He responded, and even though it was dark, you saw him smile. When he disappeared through the door, you turned your gaze back to the night sky. 

Your phone pinged in the pocket of the jeans you were wearing, and you didn’t know why but you expected something from Matthew, maybe a text where he was actually apologetic about missing tonight. But, when you checked it, it was just a random email notification. You thought that you’d feel disappointment, but instead, it was a slight relief that washed over you, and you had absolutely no idea what they meant. 

Maybe you truly were over your relationship. 

The sound of a door opening caught your attention, and when you turned, you saw the guy exiting the bathroom.

He looked at you. “Thanks again, and sorry again for accidentally scaring you.”

“You’re welcome, and it’s fine,” You told him. “Honestly, worse things have happened to me today.”

“Shitty day?”

“It’s feeling like a shitty life.” The words left your mouth before you could fully process them, and you immediately regretted it once you said them. This was a stranger, and for some odd reason, you were divulging things to him that you had never admitted out loud, things that you didn’t even fully understand yourself. “Sorry, I promise that’s an exaggeration. Anyway, let me change the subject. How was your pee? At least, what I’m assuming was a pee? Wait, that was weird.”

A laugh that you were not expecting to hear passed the guy’s lips, but you were pleasantly surprised by the sound. “Um, it was good. Very refreshing, I guess.”

“That’s good to know,” You nodded your head for reasons unbeknownst to you. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on anymore.”

“Me neither,” He responded, finally walking toward you and standing next to where you were leaning on the railing of the balcony, instead of being across the room. 

It was dark in the bedroom, the only sort of light coming from the moon, so it wasn’t until he was fully standing next to you that you took notice of who he was. 

“Tom.”

He was the lead actor in the film you just worked on, and his performance had been phenomenal, which was something that actually did not surprise you. You weren’t the biggest Marvel fan, but you highly appreciated his Spider-Man movies. 

You hadn’t realized you said his name out loud until he met your gaze and looked at you expectantly. 

“Um, you really did well in the movie,” You decided to say. It was the first thing that came to your mind, and it was the truth, so you decided to just go with it. “I mean, we haven’t seen the final cut yet, but from what I saw on set, your performance was great.” 

“Thank you,” He said, and you could hear the actual sincerity behind the simple two-worded statement. “You also did really great work on set.”

You laughed a bit. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend like you remember me.”

“No, I do,” Tom said, his words nothing but honest. “I specifically remember it was one of the last days of filming and the main Assistant Director was out because he was sick or something, so you took over his job for the day, and you did it even better than him.” 

You actually remembered that day very well, and you had been so proud of yourself that you managed to do such a good job on something that you had never done before; it made you realize how capable you were of doing more. Matthew had acted like he was happy for you when you told him, but you knew he didn’t really care. 

It felt nice to actually be seen. And it was sad because you could not pinpoint the last time you felt that way. Suddenly, you felt flustered and way too nervous around Tom. “Um, thank you. That really means a lot.”

“I never got your name, though.”

“It’s Y/N,” You said, attempting to mask the nervousness in your voice by smiling.  

Tom nodded. “What brought you up here, Y/N?” 

You thought about how to answer his question, and you could not think of the best way to do so. You could either tell the whole truth, which you knew would potentially lead to more questions that you would not want to answer. Or you could lie and not have to talk about Matthew at all. Instead, you decided to give the smallest of truths. 

“I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to people tonight, so I thought wandering around would be better than going home. And somehow I found this balcony.” Technically, it was the truth and technically you weren’t completely lying, and that was all that really mattered because, for reasons you could not distinguish, you did not want to lie to Tom.

Before he could respond or things could descend into a silence that you were unsure would be awkward or not, you let yourself say the first thing that came to mind. 

“Do you ever feel like your life could be different? Like, you could be doing something completely different with it, and still be happy. Maybe even happier?” 

You were not entirely certain what made you ask that question, it was the first and only thing you could think of at that moment, and honestly you liked the randomness of it. And maybe it was something that had been subconsciously weighing on your mind for a while now. 

Tom was an actor, a successful one at that, so you knew he would probably say no that he didn’t see his life being any different, but you were still interested in hearing his answer. Mainly because even though you knew of him, he was still pretty much a stranger in your eyes, and something told you that there was some depth there. 

“I think it could be so easy for things to be different for me. And I don’t mean that in a ‘I hate being an actor. I hate being famous’ kind of way. But, more so in a ‘I got so lucky, I could easily not be here right now’ kind of way,” Tom said and you were actually surprised by his words and the fact that he felt that way. “Sometimes in this industry, everything feels just like luck. Like, it was only because I was in the right place at the right time and impressed the right people that these opportunities fell into my lap…” He trailed off for a brief moment. “I don’t know, that probably sounds insane.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” You were quick to shake your head. “Honestly, it makes me kinda sad that you feel that way because you’re actually good at what you do, y’know? It’s not just because of luck that you get to do what you love, you deserve it.”

“Yeah, but there are thousands of people in this industry that are just as talented, maybe even more so,” He said and you could hear the sadness in his tone. It made you want to hug him but you refrained from doing so because you were positive that would be weird given that you were still just strangers, for the most part. “Sometimes it’s hard to not think that maybe there is someone out there that could be doing this better than I am, but I was the one that got lucky enough to get it.”

You didn’t debate his words because, for the most part, they were true. That field was so oversaturated with talent, mainly filled with people who would not even get a chance, so maybe a lot of it really was just luck. 

“What do you think you’d be instead?” You asked him, genuinely curious about what you would receive as the answer.

“For a long time, I was interested in being a veterinarian,” Tom answered, and there was a happier lift to his voice that you immediately took note of. “I love animals, and I have a dog, Tessa. When I was younger, I thought it would be really cool to just hang out with dogs and cats all day.” 

“I could actually see that for you,” You told him, a small smile gracing your features. “I don’t know why or how to explain it, but I really do.” 

“I will take that as a compliment,” Tom smiled back. “What would you be instead?”

“I don’t know what exactly, but I think I’d be in the states. New York City preferably, because yes I am one of the millions of people that romanticize it. But, I don’t know, I guess overall, I just hope that I am happier.”

“Are you not happy now?”

It should’ve been such an easy question to answer, and for most people, it was. But, for you, it felt like the scariest thing in the world. On the surface, maybe you were happy, but deep down, you had no idea how you were really feeling. And the thought of being brutally honest and answering that question made you want to cry because you knew the truthful answer would be so fucking hard to accept. The truthful answer would force you to reevaluate probably everything going on in your life, and you were far from ready to do that. 

So, instead of being a thousand percent honest and risking opening a can of worms that you weren’t ready to face, you once again answered with a small truth. 

You turned your head toward Tom, his eyes immediately met your gaze, and you offered him a tiny hint of a smile. “In this moment right now, as I am here with you… Yes, I am happy.”

You truly did not expect Tom to lean in and press his lips against yours following your answer to his prior question. But when he did, you fully accepted it. You didn’t know why and if asked, you would probably stammer through some random answer, but you did kiss him back.  

It was soft and sweet, and your thoughts were not even on Matthew or how weird your life felt at the moment. The only thing you could think of right then was how movie-like this all felt, and as someone whose career involved movies, the thought did not surprise you. Kissing someone you barely knew on a balcony felt like the start of a cliche romantic comedy that you would definitely watch and probably even enjoy. 

Your hands took on a life of their own, and your fingers weaved through Tom’s brown locks, which elicited a small sigh of contentment from him, and that only spurred you on to do it once more. Tom’s lips began attacking your neck, nipping and biting, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit because of how slightly ticklish it was while also softly moaning at the feel of his mouth. 

Things were becoming far more heated, and you knew that you would need to stop it now before it all became even more intense, but you really didn’t want to. Instead, you did want more to happen, and you could tell by the way Tom’s soft hands were beginning to linger underneath your shirt and trail upward that he did too. 

Although you were in what felt like a secluded part of the house and far from the party that you actually had almost forgotten was going on, the bed still felt far too risky, so you knew you couldn’t do that. 

“Bathroom,” You whispered in between quick kisses. “Let’s move this to the bathroom.”

Tom simply nodded his head and followed your lead as you began maneuvering toward the bathroom. The two of you barely disconnected yourselves from one another as you walked the few feet to the door. 

It was darker in the bathroom, but that made it all feel better for you, safer.  

The two of you continued kissing, and your hands continued exploring and fondling, and overall everything felt entirely good and right. Everything except for the small part of you that told you that you needed to tell Tom about Matthew. You didn’t want to divulge that information, instead, you actually really wanted to omit it, but something was gnawing at you, telling you not to lie.

“Hold on,” You muttered abruptly after pulling away from Tom’s lips. When you met his gaze and saw his confused yet concerned look, it made you close your eyes as you admitted, “I have a boyfriend.” 

“Oh, okay,” Tom said and gave a small nod as he backed away a bit.  

“But…” Your voice trailed off because you didn’t know where you were going with that statement. Until you did. “But, I, uh, really still want to do this.”  

“Are you sure?” Tom asked, his voice soft, and you knew that he would be fine either way. 

He just wanted you to feel comfortable, and that was what made you say your next words with a small smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”

• • •

You thought that after that night, you were going to break up with Matthew. But, when you saw him the next morning bearing congratulatory flowers and a stuffed bear for you, you could no longer find the courage to end things. 

Instead, you convinced yourself that what happened with Tom was just a fluke, a momentary relapse in judgment, a one-time thing. You also convinced yourself that it was not something you needed to tell Matthew about because of how insignificant it was.  

“Where are we headed anyway?” Tom asked. 

Illicit Affairs was still playing softly in the background, and you hated how right Tom was when he said that that should’ve been the first song added to that playlist. Instead, the actual first song was Electric Love by BØRNS. You wished that song was playing right then. 

“I was thinking Brookland?” You responded to his previous question.

Tom nodded, and his hand found your free one that wasn’t on the steering wheel and intertwined them. The small but meaningful action made your heart squeeze. “Brookland sounds good.”

The final notes of Illicit Affairs played, and then the next song from the playlist came on, and you finally felt like you could somewhat breathe again. 

It was weird because, although you should have, you had never considered what you and Tom were doing as an affair. Not even once what you two did went from happening one time to a second and then to many, many more. 

Your mind made these two vastly different parts of your life— what included Matthew and everything else, and what solely included Tom— completely separate from one another. One part you considered as real life, and the other you considered as a faraway dream that you could only sometimes get a glimpse into. And you knew that soon you wouldn’t be able to peek into that part at all.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

let me know your thoughts<3

(part two coming tomorrow!)

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

through the mouth | i. hajime

➳ tags ;; fluff, feeding lol, implied poc!reader

➳ wc ;; 966

➳ a/n ;; ive been thinking abt this fic for months. im desi n in desi culture, you pretty typically eat rice w ur hands. ik filo ppl and many other cultures do it too - and it’s like a pretty intimate thing? to feed someone rice with your hands so. that’s what this is. 

so this is a love letter to all the people who grew up eating with their hands. i love you <3

➳ plot ;; you teach hajime how to eat with his hands. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

You don’t mean to say it when you do. 

But, the dish on the plate is a cultural memory. The smell of spices, fried onions and garlic, all kinds of familiar flavors of home. It makes a warmth blossom in your chest, it smells like home. You were surprsied that Iwaizumi seemed so eager to try it. 

It’s food from a place you’ve long seen. A home a way from home, a nostalgia for somewhere you’ve only been briefly. It’s the memories your family took to pass down on to you. The only thing you’ll really be able to give your children - since your language is broken and your dress is unfamiliar. It’s one of the few things you keep with you. 

You’re surprised that he tucked his chin over your shoulder and watched you. Stir spices in a pan, try and remember how it was made. It was comforting to hear him tell you it smelled good - the ever growing excitement and how his stomach grumbled. It wasn’t a presentable dish - not the kind you’d ever eat in front of your friends. 

It’s the kind with odds and ends - ingredients you have to go the specialty market for. It’s not presentable or very pretty in the way you’ve been told food is supposed to look. 

But it’s a part of you so deeply, your stomach flips with excitement. It tastes how you remember - that’s a luxury too. When you serve on a plate - you understand why he wants to try and eat it with a utensil. It makes sense that when people see food like this - they would go through that first too. 

But your memories are of your family - aunties and grandmas and big sisters and mothers who closed their palm to take the rice and feed it to your childish mouth. Your slick tongue and impatient, fidgety body - the promise of “just one more bite” before you go back to playing. 

It comes out of you before you can stop it. Makes you freeze in place. 

“It’s weird not to eat this with my hands,” 

At first Iwaizumi just stares at you. The utensils, both a spoon and chopsticks, clatter onto the table. His eyes blink at you owlishly - and you flinch in fear. Of some looming or lingering judgement. 

None of it’s there, not really - it’s just Iwaizumi with his head cock to one side. His elbow rests on the table, cheek pressed to palm. He’s curious - no judgement or anger in his voice. You blink this time - remember he’s not like them, but more like you. You huff through your nose. 

“Ah.. yeah. When I was little - I had to learn how to eat it with my hands. It’s like.. something you do for kids or for people you love,” 

The explanation is rushed and fast - but Iwaizumi can feel your lingering worries. You probably wouldn’t listen even if he told you how he doesn’t find it weird. He hums. 

“Can you show me? Like.. how to do it?” 

Your eyes widen. It’s not something you’ve forgotten - you couldn’t even if you wanted too. It’s a muscle memory, how you shape your food with your fingers. How to eat this way. You nod, a little blank. His laughter fills the room and quells your worries.

And your hands shake when you do it, but there’s a relief - a joy and familiarity in how you shape your fingers to fit the bite into your hand. It makes you giggle to see him stare - how his eyes follow your movements in wonder. Like it is something to beautiful, interesting enough to be wondered at. 

You take the first bite without thinking. It’s like a hug from someone you’ve known your whole life. It feels good and warm and safe. It’s good - a noise of delight passing your lips as you eat. 

He’s mesmerized by it and  by you - heart swelling with love to see you embrace something about yourself in such a way. 

“How..did you do that?” 

You giggle. You seem like you’re whole. Glowing. 

“It takes practice,”

“Then.. would you feed me?” 

He grins at you, full of mischief. Your memory floods with familiar moments - where your family fed you with their hands. When wives fed husbands with theirs. This kind of love - this practice of family, much bigger than the one you find anywhere else. You didn’t think you’d get to take it with you in this way - thought when you grew up to broader horizons you’d have to let it go. 

Your stomach flips with a familiar warmth as you nod, signal him over to you. He scoots over, opens his mouth and closes his eyes waiting. A heavenly light washes over you both as the sun sets. You gather up the best bite you can for him, tearing pieces off with your fingers and feeding him.

It’s a love that knows no language - this intimate feelings. How you feed a helpless child or a youthful lover. How you love with your hands and your mouth and tongue. It’s the way you have learned I love you, please eat.

He accepts your bite gracefully with an open mind, chews and swallows and makes a pleasant moan. 

“Damn, that’s good,” and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leans over to kiss your cheek “You gotta feed me like this all the time, it’s way better” 

And you snort a laugh and kiss him again. He opens his mouth, another bite, and your body becomes a place of solace. A reminder that we can feel love anywhere in us, but especially through the mouth. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[notyourdayrdream]

Tan Hands and Tan Lines

Day Three, Side A: Ubiquitous

(read it here on AO3)

Nobody wants to spend their summer vacation working. But spending it with your two best friends wasn’t too bad. So when Mercedes told Rachel and Kurt that there were two openings at the retro fifties diner in downtown Lima, they jumped on the opportunity.

Diner in the Sky started out as a relatively slow job. It had just opened a few months ago and the word hadn’t gotten out to much of the city that it even existed. In those early days, Kurt and his friends spent the afternoons and nights singing through the empty store, twirling on black and white checkered floors. Finn and some of the other New Directions would stop by before the sunset and order milkshakes with fries. He and Rachel would not-so-mysteriously disappear for five or so minutes, and Kurt noticed the way Mercedes and Sam giggled around each other. He eventually cornered her during a graveyard shift, and she admitted that they had been dating in secret since prom. It took two days for Mercedes to win Kurt back, after buying him the new Marc Jacobs piece he had been dreaming about.

It was a cute job with even cuter outfits. Until July fourth came around.

The mayor of Lima stopped by that night and made a big show of it all, forever putting the little diner on the map. The appearance knocked out every ubiquitous fast food joint in town. It’s been packed every night since.

“I need a number five without onions!” Kurt hears Rachel scream into the kitchen, followed by the clanging of a few plates. She storms out a minute later, hair sticking to the sweat on her face.

“I hate this job,” she grumbles to him as she makes her way to another table of hungry customers.

Kurt leans his body weight against the counter. The metal is cool against his skin, a nice distraction from the oppressive summer heat. The bar isn’t nearly as packed tonight as the rest of the restaurant, mostly just little kids ordering heart attack inducing malts and ice cream cones. He’s adjusting the stupid rectangle shaped hat on his hat when he hears the door jingle at nine o’clock on the dot.

Blaine Anderson strolls into the diner with his little private smile, pulling his usual denim jacket off as he goes. He’s humming again, a pop song Kurt notices. Probably Katy Perry. He overheard Blaine tell Rachel she was his most listened to artist last week. Not that he was listening to hear if his name came up in conversation or anything like that. That would be crazy.

They meet eyes for a brief second, hazel to blue. Blaine grins before sliding onto one of the red leather barstools. “Hell again?” His cheeks are flushed pink, but Kurt blames it on the heat.

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, sounding breathier than usual. Blaine has a way of doing that to him. With his funny quirks and ability to make restaurant issued bowties sexy, the Dalton Academy junior has snuck his way into Kurt’s heart from the second he started working with him.

There’s a particularly loud crash in the corner of the building, followed by a baby screaming. Blaine takes a moment to sober himself, eyelashes fanning out on the apple of his cheeks. “I better get to work. I mean, I should get to work.” He’s flailing, adorably so. “I mean, I should check that out.” Blaine stumbles. The back of his neck is red as he walks away.

“Remind me again why you won’t ask him out?” Mercedes says with a poke to Kurt’s shoulder. Her hair is still intact, textured curls bouncing at her shoulders. The only way you’d know she had been working was the ketchup colored stains on her baby blue dress and apron. “He’s obviously into you.”

Kurt’s thought about it so many times, and the answer is that he doesn’t know. Competing schools wasn’t an excuse, it was summer. Besides, the Warblers had been so gracious in their loss at Regionals that they invited the New Directions over for coffee at the Lima Bean.

Truth is, he was scared. He’s never had a boyfriend, let alone asked a boy out or even told one they were handsome. This is still Ohio, and being out and proud has its consequences. He knows Blaine is gay at least, so his crushing isn’t creepy.

It sort of terrifies him to care about someone so deeply. When Blaine came in with red rimmed eyes after his fifteen minute break one night in the middle of June, Kurt sat with him as he ranted about how awful his dad was. He’s the only friend Kurt has that likes to watch old black and white movies for fun. Blaine makes him laugh so hard he cries, and everytime he brushes past Kurt during the busy nights, the spot tingles for until he gets home.

Kurt sighs. “I don’t know.” He rests his head against the edge of the soda machine. “Crushes are so damned difficult.” Mercedes hums in sympathy.

“It’ll work out, boo. Even if Rachel and I have to force the two of you to close together like last time.” He can feel her laugh beside him, and soon he’s laughing too. That was a good night.

“Kurt! ‘Cedes!” Rachel all but screams, turning a few heads. After knowing the girl for two years, he’s convinced she only has two settings: Loud and Louder.

Her face is bright pink and there’s a deep crease between her brows. She’s got her Business Face on. “What’re you two doing? This large party just came in, and you guys are just sitting here! A little help would be appreciated!” She huffs, pumps tapping against the floor as she walks to the back at a dizzying speed.

Kurt and Mercedes share an eye roll before going opposite ways. The party Rachel was talking about is huge, five adults and three kids under ten years old. After finding a table large enough so they’d all be comfortable, he pulls out a notepad and asks what drinks he can get them started with.

An older woman starts speaking in rapid fire Italian, gesturing to the rest of the group, who nod in return. Kurt instantly regrets taking up French instead of literally any other language.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hoping they could understand. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

A younger man with a beard cocks his head and speaks in an incredibly thick accent. How a family of Italians decided to spend a summer in boring Ohio confuses him. “Could we get another waiter?” He stutters through the sentence, and Kurt feels bad to inconvenience them.

There’s a familiar tingle on his left shoulder. “I can help them,” Blaine whispers, side-stepping him to get closer to the table. He says something to the family, who grin back at him. He has that effect on people.

“You speak Italian?” Kurt hisses. This guy is just full of surprises.

Blaine puts his head down and smiles. He shrugs like everyone in America is fluent in the romantic language. “I spent a few summers in southern Italy with my grandmother when I was younger.” Because of course he did.

“Oh,” Kurt offers lamely. “Okay, well tell them I’m really sorry for any inconvenience.”

Blaine smirks at him and turns to the table. He says something to them, laughing afterwards. Kurt watches behind him, amazed at the way Blaine can make anyone feel so important. Not to mention Italian is such a hot language to hear coming out of his mouth.

A kid who can’t be above twelve pipes up, pointing back to Kurt. The rest of the family looks back at him too.

Kurt pulls at the edge of his crisp button down. They’re looking back and forth between him and Blaine, unnerving him beyond belief. He feels called out and exposed even though he has no idea what’s being said about him. So he just returns a wavering smile and turns to leave and prepares to never show his face again when he hears it.

Amore.

That stops him in his tracks. Love? Kurt’s no language expert, but the word is pretty universal in every one of them. He turns around to ask Blaine for a translation, but to his surprise he’s gone uncharacteristically silent.

Blaine eventually stammers through a reply, hands stuck stiffly at his sides. Kurt hears him murmur, “I’ll be back with your drinks,” before walking into the kitchen as fast as he can. He won’t make eye contact with Kurt the rest of the night.

Diner in the Sky closes at eleven every night, and it takes another thirty minutes on a good day to scrub stains from the tabletops and lock everything up. It’s Kurt’s night to close up. Usually either Rachel or Mercedes is on schedule to help him, but since his luck is just absolute shit, he has to clean up the place with Blaine.

Closing up is usually an intimate job. Just two people, the nostalgia of an old diner, and a jukebox. Depending on who you’re with, it’s either heaven or hell. Kurt’s not sure which one he’ll get tonight. The other two times he’s had to suffer through it with Blaine, it’s been fun. They dirtied dishes making vanilla shakes and doo-wopping along to the jukebox tunes.

Tonight feels like purgatory. Blaine avoids him at any cost. If Kurt goes to mop the kitchen floors, he goes to the front room, and vice versa. He won’t speak to him, or even acknowledge him when he accidentally sweeps Kurt’s feet. It’s fine at first, Kurt can handle the awkwardness. But eventually, it simmers to anger.

“Can I talk to you?” He calls after Blaine. He stops like a kid caught in the cookie jar, hand freezing on the light switch. He turns slowly, eyes as big as saucers.

“Yeah?”

Kurt glares at him for a moment before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what that family said to you, but it gives you no right to be so absolutely rude—”

“They said I looked like I loved you.” It comes out as if it pains him to say.

That sentence makes any anger Kurt has, flow out of him and into a pond on the floor. Love?

He scraps up any dignity he has left and smiles to himself. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?” Blaine snaps, coming to sit on the stool next to him. His leg trembles on the floor. Kurt can recognize now the little tells he didn’t know he ever noticed; how Blaine presses his thumb and ring finger together when he’s especially nervous, the way his eyes seem to light up when he looks at him.

“Love me?” Kurt continues, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He wants to hear him say it.

Blaine doesn’t answer, instead opting to bury his head into his hands. Kurt hears him mumble to himself. Something about not the right time and tan messed everything up. His stomach flip flops.

“So,” Kurt drags, tapping the edge of the metal counter. “Love, huh?”

“Shut up,” Blaine mutters. They sit in comfortable silence for a little, until the hum of Ella Fitzgerald fizzles off the record. Then, Kurt feels a warm, almost clammy hand on top of his. It’s enough of an answer for him.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Unforgettable pt. 4

HI FAM 

WOWOWOW SORRY THAT THIS UPDATE IS SO LATE I HAD A HARD TIME BRINGING THIS OUT IN THE WAY I WANTED.

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

Warnings: language, a hint of angst

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

The night you returned from your secret adventure was filled with confusing emotions. Why did talking to that covered stranger, whom you now know as Dabi, come so naturally? Why was it so easy, despite the fact that he’s a villain? And why, God why did touching pinkies send a jolt through your body leaving you unable to forget what that felt like.

You wish you could forget how that felt but you can’t. Not because of your quirk, but because it made you feel safe, made you feel differently than with your interactions with anyone else. Including Hawks.

But then a new feeling was emerging. It wasn’t just a sense of freedom; it was a form of vindication. You did something without the hero commission or Hawks knowing and the emotion was indescribable. Maybe this was your way out, your means of escaping the overprotective clutches of the hero commission. Who cares that they adopted and took you in off the street? The pros and cons of this are relatively even so the thought of escape finally feels within reach. Not just for you, but for Keigo as well.

You and Dabi had continued to meet up once, sometimes twice a week at the same spot on the same bench. You two never disclosed too much information about your work lives but gave enough information that was allowable. Dabi would talk of successful missions and failed trysts, always going off about an unmentionable master plan and a newbie that was bothering him. You would talk of stressors, your eventual dreams, and sometimes you’d sprinkle in bits of your past.

It was weird how Dabi was so interested in knowing more about your childhood friends and your relationship with them. You didn’t mind though, because finally you were able to talk about these things with someone who didn’t experience it or try to put a cap or limit on your feelings. You truly began to confide in him.

So much so, that 5 weeks into your meetings you had allowed him to walk you home. He would drop you off a couple of blocks away, just in case anyone was nearby. Over the weeks, little bouts of affection between the two of you began to grow. Lengthened hugs, prolonged handshakes, lingering touches… Sometimes it reminded you of the closeness you have with Hawks, but something about these flittering touches seemed more intimate, more special.

You tried your best to calm the rush of emotions you would feel around him, chalking it up to be the feeling of harboring a secret and not getting caught. Yeah, that’s it. Tonight was one of your usual trips to the neighborhood grocery store that was sanctioned by the commission. They told you going out at night was better because less distractions and less of a chance to run into trouble that could lead to a potential overload. Bullshit, just what the hell were they really scared of?

As you’re walking back, noting the coolness in the air as you tug your scarf closer to you lips, you walk pass your secret meeting point. A hidden smirk comes to your face as you think of the number of times Dabi has met and left you at that spot.

That’s why it was weird for you to see someone in that exact spot right now.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you secure your bags closer to yourself. The overhead light is faded which makes it harder to see who is actually there. Your gut tells you to run and leave the person be, but a whisper changes your mind.

“(Y/n)…”

You gasp, almost dropping your bags as you approach the shadow.

“Dabi?”

Sneaking him into your apartment had your adrenaline pumping. You were bringing someone who wasn’t a hero into your home! A home secured by the hero commission and watched like a hawk. You trod along carefully, being aware of the blood coming from his stomach and legs and trying not to have any fall on the carpet. If anyone saw the bloodstains leading up to your door, they’d know something was up. Even now, his face is covered almost as if he was planning on coming to see you. Sure you two had talked about it, but even you knew how risky that was.

You hear him hiss beside you as you close the door to your apartment. You pull him closer to you as you take off his and your shoes. Once that’s done, you hurry him to the bathroom and sit him on the closed toilet.

“Okay, let me get a good look at you.”

Once you take him in, it takes all you have to not cry out. Despite the knowing charred skin, there’s blood coming from the middle of his shirt and some from his leg. Your eyes reach his face and you see there’s traces of blood as well. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you mutter. You try you best to avoid his gaze but that doesn’t matter because his eyes are everywhere except yours.

“With pity. Like you’re sad for me.”

You reach for the first aid kit from your medicine cabinet and grab a towel. “But I am sad Dabi. Careful this may sting a bit.”

“That’ll be nothing. I’m used to pain.”

He notices you flinch when he says his truth. Since most of his body is burned and not compatible with his quirk, a little sting from alcohol won’t hurt him. He also takes note of the care you give him, not even wincing upon seeing his leg. You keep working up his body and you shyly ask him to take off his shirt so she can attend to the wound there.

His rough and warm calloused hand stops you. “Don’t.”

“Dabi, I have to in order to treat the wound. Please, just let me.”

His grip loosens and he mumbles out, “just don’t regret seeing me.”

You sigh deeply and start to remove his bloody and tattered shirt. Once it’s over his black locks, you can’t help the tiny squeak that leaves your lips. Scarred, charred, and stapled skin greets you. It’s gruesome, it’s painful, but it’s mostly saddening. To know that he deals with this every day hurts you more than you thought it would.

You begin to dab at the wound to help it heal and stop bleeding. It’s not lost on you that despite his scars, his physique is immaculate. Toned skin meets burned skin and the contrast in shades surprises you. You don’t feel your breath quicken as you finish working his stomach wound.

Your eyes finally meet his and you push yourself up to your knees. “Let me see your face.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not gonna let you drag and spill blood all over my apartment. Let. Me. See.”

“Little mouse, be careful. You don’t want to get on my bad side right now. I’ve had a fucking night.”

“So let me help you! Please.”

His sapphire eyes darken at your pleading words and then soften. It was bound to happen eventually, maybe he’ll have to kill her now, regardless of how he feels or thinks he feels. His shoulders droop in defeat and you take that as an invitation. You come closer to him, slowly taking off the glasses obscuring his eyes. You’re immediately taken back by how beautiful his eyes are. They seem familiar, but everything feels familiar with him so you let it go.

Next, your hands graze his ear which you feel is slightly burned and covered in piercings. Slowly you unhook the strap around the back of his ear and do the same to his other ear. Dabi is now completely exposed to you. The scars and staples match the rest of his body, but they don’t take away from how handsome he actually is. Your hand naturally goes to his cheek to feel it underneath your fingertips. It’s rough but velvety, a comforting and very him touch.

You feel his hand grab the one on his cheek and you fear he wants to pull it away. However, he does the opposite and pushes it closer to his face, almost like he’s melting into your touch. He looks calm, relieved even. His eyes had shut naturally at your touch, nostalgia running rampant as the feel of your hand on his is something he thought he’d never feel again. He sighs lightly, not realizing how long he had been holding his breath.

This act is so intimate, but the two of you barely even recognize it as such. You raise your other hand with the towel to wipe away the blood spots that taint his unmarred skin. He let’s you continue to clean him off as the sound of the light buzzing and the bathroom fan become the soundtrack for the evening. Once you finish wiping his face, he grabs your other hand which makes you drop the blood clad towel. Dabi pulls you in closer, now your lips merely inches apart. His eyes drop to your lips as they part ever so slightly and then back up to your eyes.

“Dabi I-“

He silences you by firmly placing his lips on yours. The kiss starts out curiously slow, as you two take time to take in the feel of each others lips. Unlike him, he waits for you to feel comfortable before pressing deeper into your lips. His tongue invades your mouth and you welcome it, causing Dabi to moan slightly at the feeling. You pull back, perturbed by the noise and your eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry, did I do something weird?”

He chuckles and brings your forehead to his. “Doll,” he pauses to find his words but comes up empty, “shut up.” He pulls you in again, this time with conviction. Your confidence soars as you start to roam your hands all over his body. You can tell he wants you to stop touching his scars but you keep on anyways, giving them tender touches. How long had it been since someone, more like you, had touched him in such a loving and caring manner?

Even when he was first getting burned from his quirk, you had been there when the both of you were younger. You had offered healing solutions and open arms when it seemed no one had cared. So part of him hoped that you would recognize a tid bit of the feelings he wants you to feel, to experience within this kiss. He wants to press on more into the kiss but he knows better. He always does.

So he pulls away.

“Why,” you pant, “why did you stop?”

Dabi bites at his burned lip with lust blown eyes. “Wouldn’t this be better not in a bathroom?” You become flustered at that and remove yourself from the man in front of you. He stands up with you and you want to aid him because of his wounds. “It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it might.” You two walk out of the bathroom into the partially lit hallway. He stops your progress by pressing you into the wall. He growls out, “c’mere.”

The wall behind you supported you as he stole your breath. You never thought you could feel this way with someone again. Not to say that you haven’t, but relationships never progressed this far. However, as you briefly break for air, you think about the only other person who has ever given your heart butterflies without you realizing it.

“Hey kid, I had some time to sneak away and-“

Your heart rate shot up at the unexpected intruder. Anxiety began to swell as you took in the scene before you. Hawks was here in your apartment watching you make out with a villain he may or may not know. “Ke- ah Hawks! What, uh, are you doing here?” You barely register Dabi glaring at your longtime friend as your thoughts race a mile a minute.

Hawks is completely unsure of what the fuck he’s seeing. Why was he pressed up against you? Why was he here? How did you actually meet this burnt guy? “(Y/n), what’s going on? Do you, do you know him?”

You understand what he meant but you couldn’t meet his intense stare. Your avoidance answered his own question and he relaxes his shoulders. He had to keep his cool and pretend that he is completely unaware that a grade A villain was making out with his best friend. His stomach dropped at that realization, which confused him greatly.

He continued to stare at Dabi who had the most sinister grin. The temptation to hurt him was immense but he held back. His golden eyes didn’t miss your blown out eyes and pouty lips. You really wanted Dabi? What was wrong with him? He knows he’s been gone for over a month but…

There’s that feeling in his stomach again.

Dabi breaks the silence in the cramped hallway. “You gonna turn me in hero? Gonna arrest me for messing with someone who’s precious to the hero commission?”

Keigo whips out his sword-like wings and aims it for his neck, recreating a scene they’ve done before. “Watch yourself. What are you doing here?”

“Clearly I was invited. Why are you here?”

Hawks steps closer. “I’ll be asking the questions,” he seethes. “Just how the hell do you know (Y/n)?”

“Hawks, please.”

“I met her in that park you had been scoping out for weeks for her.” He oozes confidence in a sly way as he presses the tip of the wing into his own neck. “If you take me here, they’re gonna know you two broke the rules. And from what she’s told me she’s on a tight leash.

“Wouldn’t want her to be put in a tighter cage now would we?”

Your eyes finally meet Keigo’s and realization settles in. He lowers his weapon and his gaze on yours softens. Shit, how did things get so fucked in the weirdest way? “Dove, did you really meet him there? And you know that he’s-“

“A villain,” you finish for him. “Yes I know. I didn’t plan on talking to anyone, but he was anonymous to me at the time. It felt nice having someone to talk to.” You subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself and sink into yourself. Keigo cautiously approaches you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

He sighs and then speaks, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to contact you and I wanted to check in on you. Guess I didn’t need to.” He steps away from you and you quickly felt colder.

“Hawks…”

“I’ll always be second won’t I?” He had meant to keep that to himself but the rhetorical question escaped his lips in a low whisper. You heard some of it and that made you heart lurch. Your heart had been going through a roller coaster the entire night.

Hawks then makes eye contact with Dabi. “Hey, can I talk to you? Alone.”

Dabi looks over to you and you nod at him and motion for the two of them to go out to your balcony. You walk back to your room and attempt to get a control on what was going on in your heart. How long had it been since you’ve had your heart torn and tugged in different directions? Ever since Dabi came in the picture and Keigo had gone undercover, your emotions had been a big jumbled mess and now it’s gotten more tangled.

The two men stand adjacent to the window, so only Hawks could potentially be seen from the outside. Hawks starts out first, “So this is who and where you’ve been running off to.”

Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Listen here bird brain, I still don’t like you or trust you. But (Y/n), she’s someone special to you isn’t she?”

“She’s my best friend since we were young,” he retorts.

“Hmm,” the ravenette ponders. “And how long have you been in love with her?”

That causes the blond to hesitate slightly at his response. Anger had dissipated from his being with just one question. “And how long have you had feelings for her huh?”

“You’re avoiding the question, hero. And what’s it to you? So what if I have feelings for her?”

Hawks chuckles darkly, “Shiggy isn’t gonna like that you know.” He stops to finally collect his own thoughts and how to handle this brand new information. “Look, I won’t tell anyone. Hero or villain, this stays between us.” The urge to cry hits him hard and he swallows it down as he always does whenever it comes to matters of his heart, especially regarding you. “And you better not hurt her.”

You had reentered the room to catch the last sentence Keigo says before meeting your eyes. He can tell that you heard what he had just said and slaps on a camera ready smile. You already know that those are fake, but you can’t imagine why he would fake a smile to you until you see his beautiful golden irises that shine like the sun.

They’re dull, somber, lacking the luster they usually have. And that makes your stomach do backflips. He flies out your window and into the cool night. Dabi comes up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist.

“Is he always this protective of you?”

You turn to face him and you glance up into his captivating eyes. This is a comfortable and welcoming place to be. But if Keigo made your stomach do backflips. Dabi’s made yours do frontflips.

And you weren’t sure which feeling was better or worse.

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

Taglist: @cupcake-rogue @shinsouskitten @luluwiie @kacchaneatsass @abonshit @kiribaku-queen

[otome0heart]

[Fanfic] MLQC Secret Santa 2020: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Victor)

A little late but this is my belated present for @mrs-victor-li for the MLQC Secret Santa ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁) I really hope that you like it.

Also, a big thank you to @ginkgowritings for organising this and being patient with my delay. I really, really appreciated it (灬ºωº灬)♡

Title: The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Words: 3786

Notes: Even though I tried to merge it in the Dates timeline, in the end the story diverts from the canon, though it’s set after the Rooftop Date (possible spoilers if you haven’t read it). Also, this was partly inspired by the wonderful analysis of Victor’s character “Waiting for your consent” by @sharinluna. I just had time to revise and edit it once so please, forgive any big mistakes that you see and point them to me so I can correct them ^^ Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.

.

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

The curtain closed for the last time that evening and the clapping died little by little in the great hall. The audience started gathering their things and the young woman looked at her companion, her joyful expression turning into a  puzzled one, as he sat down again. Victor returned her gaze with a tiny smile playing on his lips and she did the same, beside him.

“Are we waiting for something?”

He crossed his legs, making himself comfortable.

“The corridors are crowded right now, we’ll take the same amount of time to get out whether we’re there or stay here for a while.”

She hummed, a brief musical sound emerging from her throat, just like the ones she had enjoyed not so long ago, her eyes turning back to the now quiet stage and her feet moving in a spontaneous dance to a melody only she knew. At that moment, Victor would have given anything to know what was on her mind. She seemed to have gone to a world of her own though she was just at an arm’s reach and that unsettled him. He studied her profile in the warm-lit box partly hidden from prying eyes by a dark red curtain that framed her delicate features. They were in an impasse in their relationship which made him unsure of where he stood. He had told her of his feelings for her some weeks before but she had not answered him yet. However, as they had continued seeing each other outside work, he had noticed very little changes in her attitude towards him, mixed signals that sometimes led him to think she felt the same, others that gave away a sense of an inner struggle. And he knew why. The fact that his corporation was the main and only investor on hers made her tiptoe around him, not getting closer but not wanting to offend him either.

He pressed his lips in a thin line. He was not blind to the fact of other men appreciating her as well, she was a fine young lady with plenty of good qualities and the owner of a company; but he was also a mature man who separated work and personal clearly, and if she were in love with someone else, he would retire like the gentleman he considered himself to be. And if she thought that he was so petty as to retire his investment because of that, then, maybe she was truly a silly girl.

He breathed a silent sigh, shooking his head and relaxing his features, as the sounds of conversation in the hall started to fade. Whatever the future held for both of them, he was not going to waste his time dwelling in what-ifs. He would enjoy every single occasion he had to be with her at work or out of it until she made her mind up, starting from the fact that that meaningful evening was his alone.

The hall was almost empty by then, and he looked at his watch.

“Shall we go?”

Deeply lost in her thoughts, she startled a little upon hearing his voice.

“Yes, sorry” she smiled lightly and stood up just after him, grabbing the white coat on the back of her chair.

He extended his hand and she doubted for a few seconds just before giving it to him and turning around. As he helped her, he admired her exposed neck and upper back, normally covered by her hair, this time styled up in a braided low bun where she had held a hairpin with some poinsettia flowers. He could not help a smile. She had gone all out for the festivity and wore a dark green knee-length satin dress with some applique work on the body and sleeves, and red ankle-strapped shoes. She could pass as a very elegant dressed elf. A lovely one, he had to admit.

He put on his black coat too, and together, they left the box seat. There were only a few people in the corridors who had probably had the same idea as Victor. Some of them greeted them, glancing curiously at her as they exchanged a few courtesy words with Victor.

Finally, they exited the theatre, a cold gust of wind greeting them. It had snowed heavily while they had been inside and there was a thin layer of white covering the dark coloured pavement and the road. She let out an excited laugh and bounced on her heels, enjoying the sound of the crushed snow under her feet. He shook his head slightly, an amused smile drawing across his mouth and then, offered her his arm, which he was surprised to see she took without hesitation. Probably, she was more worried about falling down and making a fool of herself than about her confused feelings towards him.

At a leisure pace, they walked down the steps of the building and headed to the parking lot where he had left his car, a few blocks from there. They made their way in silence at the beginning, watching some scattered snowflakes fall from the trees lining the road, profusely decorated. From time to time, Victor stole glances at her, enjoying the Christmas lights reflected in her pupils and the expression of awe in her features, as if she saw them for the first time.

‘Childish’ he thought, aware that precisely that earnestness she possessed was one of the things that attracted him to her deeply.

And then, a soft hum reached his ears. Distracted as she was with the ornamentation, she had unconsciously started to sing disconnected fragments of the melodies she had listened to at the theatre, happy ballet songs about sweets and fairies, and dancing snowflakes and flowers. A pleasant feeling filled him inside and he breathed satisfied, focusing on her lovely voice.

.

No matter how many years she had seen Loveland’s Christmas illumination, it managed to amaze her every single one of them. Beautiful figures, curtains of stars, snowflakes projected on buildings and Christmas trees in the squares, they were all different from the previous ones, bigger and more colourful.

Without barely realising, she had started to hum, the familiar songs that she had heard so many times before that night finding their way from her mind and heart to her throat. Her father had brought her to see The Nutcracker ballet for several years in that same building they had been to that night. When Victor had suggested going to the theatre on Christmas Eve, she had hesitated a bit. Even though they had had lunch and dinner together a few times after his confession, it had never sounded as much as a date as that one, especially given the romantic connotations the day held for most people. It had been when he had told her that he had tickets to attend to The Nutcracker ballet that all her doubts had vanished, replaced by nostalgia and excitement and, as she had watched the dancers on the stage and heard the beautiful, happy melodies of the dances, warm feelings and memories from her childhood had filled her.

The streets were crowded with people of all ages, walking busily from shop to shop in search of a last-minute present or watching the decorations. Here and there, they also passed couples hand in hand, and she wondered if they looked the same to them, holding arms and strolling so close together. She lowered her head a bit, hiding her chin in the fuzzy neck of her coat. Victor declaring his feelings for her so straightforwardly that night a few weeks ago on the roof of LFG had left her confused and unsure. With his fiercely demanding attitude and his mighty position, she had never suspected that he could see her as something more than a “dummy”, a silly girl that stood up to him and that most of the time was never up to his standards at work. In very few moments, he had let her see what was behind his poker face and his tyrannical ways, allowing her to discover a fiercely loyal and protective man with a warm heart who loved his family dearly. And during those glimpses, she had felt closer to him, that the walls between them cracked and collapsed bit by bit, though sometimes, they were rebuilt again in the blink of an eye. She had wondered then if all that was in her imagination and his affection, just a dream. However, his words were deeply engraved in her heart, and his voice, loud and clear like that day, resounded in her mind once again.

I wouldn’t go near another woman. All I want is you…

Heat flushed her cheeks and she side glanced at Victor to see if he had noticed, but he was looking ahead, at the entrance of the car park just a few metres in front of them, across a square, and she breathed, relieved.

He had not mentioned the matter again. Unlike the idea she had of suitors from what she had heard from her friends or watched in films, he had left her space to think, not trying to be a constant presence in her daily life or influence her feelings in any way, not meddling in her bonds with the men who were important to her. His attitude towards her had been the same, overbearing and not giving her a special treatment, and at the same time, considerate and lenient with her whims. True to his word, he was waiting for her to see the light, even at the risk of that never happening.

The atmosphere in the square was very similar to the one in the bustling streets, though the decorations and colours were much subtler, giving the place a cosy, intimate glow, so different from when they had crossed it in the late afternoon on their way to the restaurant where they had a reservation for an early dinner before heading to the theatre, with the hot shades of the sunset reflecting on the glass windows of the nearby buildings, tinting the world as if it was on fire. 

“Everything is so beautiful…” the girl sighed looking at a group of reindeers made with small white lights, except for one which was red. “It’s like stepping into a winter wonderland.”

“Well, I agree that it has its charm and that people feel compelled to spend is a great incentive for business.”

She lifted a brow, regarding him with an incredulous stare.

“I can’t believe you said that… Where’s your Christmas spirit? Don’t you feel anything special seeing so many awesome and creative things made with just garlands and trees and lights, the families walking together and the children so thrilled?”

“Like the one I have beside me?” he replied jokingly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

She pouted despite clearly seeing that he was trying to provoke her, and turned her head away. However, a second later she forgot about it as her eyes fell on the loveliest decorative ensemble she had seen that day.

“VIctor, look!” the young woman exclaimed as she left him with fast steps, walking to a space between two trees where a string of bulbs in the shape of a holly branch hung. On top of it, two robins, also made with fairy lights were perched, looking at each other, one with its wings slightly opened, the other giving it what looked like a sprout of leaves and small white balls.

A young couple a few meters away from her laughed and she turned in time to see them kiss fully on the mouth, making her flush upon realising what that little sprig in the bird’s beak was.

The two teenagers parted from each other and glanced at her, giggling again and walking away. She looked at Victor, panicked but unable to move from her spot, not knowing what to do. He was just a few meters away, watching her with an unreadable expression that stirred an unknown feeling inside her.

Then, suddenly, everything stilled and there was no more sound of chiming bells moved by the cold breeze, no more rumour of excited voices and nervous chuckles. As if he had decided something, he walked to her, slowly, like a majestic lion, but at the same time, she had the impression that he was giving her a chance to escape, that just a step back would stop him completely, as the suspended time. But for some unknown reason, she could not do it. Her heart was beating strongly in her chest, almost deafening her, her breath coming in short puffs of steam between her slightly parted lips. She lifted her gaze as he stopped in front of her. His mauve eyes, always crystal clear, were darkened by the night and the emotion that glimmered deep inside them. But there was more, a flicker of uncertainty that surprised her. She had never had the impression that he could be insecure about something, and yet, there was so much she did not know about him.

And also, there was her. She could see herself reflected in his pupils and she felt that she was the only one that mattered in his world. That thought alone made her feel an inexplicable spark of happiness and warmth spread inside her chest.

He lifted his hand and slipped it gently behind her head cupping the nape of her neck, and his thumb swept over her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin. She was looking at him with her big eyes, shiny under the Christmas lights and confused at his actions. How he longed to cross the distance, physical and emotional, that separated them and feel finally complete, silence the yearn that surged in his heart each time he saw her. But he had promised her to wait, to leave her space so she could see him as the man who desperately loved her instead of just the powerful CEO that held her future and that of those under her in his hands. So, he would have to settle for just a little display of affection, just for the two of them.

He leant forward and, as she lowered her lids not knowing what to expect, he brushed her forehead with his lips tenderly, lingering just enough to breathe in the floral fragrance of her hair and feel the softness of her skin.

He let go just after his kiss, taking a step back, and suddenly, the young woman found herself missing the heat radiating from him, protective and comforting.

“Shall we go?” he asked, bending his elbow for her to slip her hand around again, as the little bulbs clinked together in the breeze and the atmosphere filled with laughter and noise once again.

The girl nodded, not really trusting her voice, and took his arm, both of them walking straight to the parking lot entrance.

Once they paid and found the car, he opened the door for her, waiting until she had taken off her coat and sat down comfortably to close it. Then, he did the same, leaving his garment on the back seat and took his place on the driver’s seat.

She leant her head back on the headrest as he drove carefully along the snow-covered roads, one of her hands folded over the other, where she still could feel his warmth, as if it wanted to keep it as much as possible. Her mind had been wandering to him quite often during those weeks, when she was not working, trying to decipher what she felt for him, but until that moment, she had not got a clear answer. It was difficult for her to separate the authoritative figure he represented from the caring man whom she was so precious for, as she understood that seventeen years ago, she had made a strong impression on him while she had completely forgotten about his existence. However, he was becoming a crucial figure in her life now, someone who pushed her past her limits and encouraged her to do her best; someone who she could count on and spoiled her just enough to make her feel happy again on a bad day. She was not sure if it was the light he was expecting or not, but the only conclusion she had reached was that she wanted to know more about him, to uncover layer after layer of the pragmatic LFG CEO and see the man behind the finance emperor.

Her eyes fell on her hands again, and a light colour appeared on her cheeks. It had also been the first time they had stood so close together since his confession, making her aware of her masculine presence and his status as a possible lover, someone who would have access to her most private thoughts and feelings, who would expect more than a platonic bond. Her face turned scarlet red at the mere idea of Victor and her crossing the invisible line that until that night had been clearly drawn between them. She recalled the warmth of his hand on her skin and the slight shiver that had run down her spine at the brush of his lips, awakening on its course a million of unfamiliar but thrilling sensations and she bit her lower lip. 

“You're normally not so quiet” he said in a soft voice, his eyes on the road, and she turned her head to him, brusquely brought back to reality, which made silence fall between them for a moment. “Did you not like the performance?”

“I loved it!” he side-glanced at her briefly just enough to see if she was feigning her sudden enthusiasm. “Sorry if it seemed the other way…” she doubted briefly and then, she continued, her nervousness at being caught in her recollections set aside. “You know, my father brought me there several times when I was a child and a teen. it was like a Christmas tradition to see The Nutcracker together around this time. Then, I spent the rest of the winter playing the different melodies on the piano. In spring, I put the scores away until the following December, when we started the circle again. Tonight’s ballet has brought me many memories of those times” she looked at her fingers, still laced together. “It’s been long since I played them, I’ve been too busy…”

He kept silent, but she saw that his brows were knitted together in a frown and she knew that he was doubting his choice.

“I’m glad to have reminisced about those moments. It made me appreciate the dancing and the music much more and keep my memories of my father alive” she turned towards him and that grabbed his attention. “Thank you for taking me there, Victor.”

His posture relaxed visibly and the thin line in his forehead disappeared.

“You’re welcome.”

A few minutes later, he parked his car in front of her building. Despite the slight tension still tangible in the cabin, the young woman felt comfortable and wished she could enjoy his company for a while longer. Then, a sudden idea came to her mind.

“Do you want to come up to my place and have some hot chocolate?” she asked on a whim, surprising him.

His slightly widened eyes watched her for a few seconds, his features not revealing any of his thoughts, making her squirm awkwardly and then, shook his head.

“No, thank you. I have a meeting early in the morning.”

She seemed surprised by his rejection but did not feel discouraged and tried again.

“It won’t take long, and it’ll warm you-”

“You don’t need to do this” he interrupted her words, trying to end her struggle and laying his cards on the table.

“What?”

“To feel pressured. I told you I’d be patient so take all the time you need to sort out your feelings about us. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable or obliged with me, so I apologise if I overstepped-”

“I know” she replied with a light nod, interrupting him. “You can be imposing and a tyrant but also, respectful and considerate so I know that you’d never force or rush me to do anything I’m not completely sure about” she stared into his eyes with a serious expression which took him slightly aback. “I trust you.”

Those words reached the deepest part of his thundering heart. Never in his life had he felt so relieved and so right, reassured that his actions were correct and that she appreciated them. He had feared so many times that his confession had only made things between them even more difficult but she was too afraid of offending him. And at the same time, he had been worried about interpreting her acceptance of his advances as something more meaningful than it really was. Knowing that she was considering his feelings carefully and maybe taking baby steps towards a relationship between them filled his chest with even more love for her.

“Thank you for this evening, Victor” she smiled unfastening her seatbelt. “It’s been wonderful.”

He nodded, his features softening upon seeing her returning to her normal self.

“Goodnight.”

And then, she leant forward, putting her hand on his arm to bring him to her and kissed his cheek, a silent touch in the darkness of the enclosed space they were in which left him breathless for a second.

“Goodnight” she whispered, her eyes gazing at him briefly before turning and opening the door of the car.

He watched her run towards the entrance of her building, her coat still in her arms and her green skirt fluttering behind her, still puzzled by how fast everything had happened. She reached the gate and just before disappearing, she looked over her shoulder with a small smile playing on her lips and her cheeks flushed. Then, she was gone.

Victor brought his hand to his face and brushed his cheek with his fingertips. He still could feel the warm pressure of her soft lips on his skin and the caress of her breath sweeping his ear, the subtle fragrance of her perfume surrounding him, giving him a glimpse of what it would be like to have her in his arms.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, breathing deeply trying to calm himself down and focus on the road. He started the car and, using his turn signal, joined the traffic on his way home, a soft smile curving his lips as he started to hum under his breath one of The Nutcracker’s melodies.

It seemed that, even though there was still a long way to go, she was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

THE END

[marie-dufresne]

Fast forward; the fall of ShinRa. Geostigma is on the rise and Rufus is reduced to a wheelchair. Marie manages to find the lodges and sees her former employer for the first time in almost a year.

@ivory-paragon

There were memories and there were dreams. Lady Marie Devereaux could not tell them apart.  How could she, when all of her life had been dictated to her. An accident had wiped her memory entirely, or so she’d been told, and as she ‘recovered’, she was fed stories and pills, stories and pills, stories and pills.

Her husband, Colin, only wanted to see her well again.

Why then, she wondered, despite all his attentiveness and patience and benevolence, did she harbor a raw, deep seated fear of the man?

The things she recalled before she woke up were not real, she’d been told. They never happened, and yet they felt so real. So concrete. She could see faces, hear voices, feel textures.

But for all the things she was told happened?

There was nothing.

Why couldn’t she conjure up a shred of a memory? A familiar smell, or image?

It felt wrong to doubt him when he was waking her up with gentle kisses on her forehead, serving her breakfast on a tray in her suite. They didn’t share a bed in this manor. She needed to recover, he claimed. Then they could be intimate.

It suited Marie just fine. She felt no attraction to her husband as guilty as she felt to admit it, but he’d mentioned they’d been trying for a baby the past few years. They’d try again when she was well.

After three weeks she was left only with a slight limp from where her hip had been injured and after two months, there was no physical evidence left of the accident and she took to what she’d been doing for—how long had they been married? Fourteen years?

It seemed odd to her, to be married for fourteen years and not seek medical help to conceive. If that was right, she’d been all of eighteen and in prime shape for child bearing when they married.

Over the months locked up inside the grand estate, Marie did not begin to trust the past life she didn’t know. Not with the expensive clothes he dressed her in or the jewels or the gourmet foods served to her day in and day out. Instead, she began to doubt.

Her memories, the ones she thought could be real, had faded into nothing more than strange feelings of nostalgia and a recurring nightmare of a bustling street, a telephone, and her crying out for a friend. Or perhaps a lover. She didn’t know.

She didn’t even recall the name.

It happened by accident, her discovery that would either save her or ruin her. Too hasty in picking up her morning tablets, too slow to catch it before it tumbled down the drain. Ah, that was alright. Skipping one dose wouldn’t kill her. They were only meant to keep her balanced. It had been almost a year since she’d been taking them. Surely she’d be fine skipping one dose.

She didn’t tell Colin. It didn’t feel right to tell him, and she carried on, planning out the next season’s gardens, deciding to add an elaborate water feature to the grounds. He liked when she tinkered with the estate. It kept her busy.

Combing through a catalogue of plants, a question popped into her head that had her sitting upright.

What happened to Midgar?

Midgar? She laughed quietly, shaking her head and turning the page. She hated the idea of cities. She hadn’t ever been there, had no desire to be there, so why she was thinking about it now, she didn’t know. And what happened to it? Nothing as far as she knew. Why would anything happen to it? How silly.

The question wore on over the afternoon and it ate at her. It ate at her so much that while Colin was in a meeting in his study, she meandered into the library to tackle the archived newspapers, if only to quell the obnoxious mantra of a question.

That was until she discovered there wasn’t a single newspaper in the library. For a man who made a point of keeping up-to-date on the planet’s happenings…why didn’t he keep newspapers?

She briefly considered asking him casually. How was Midgar these days? Should they make a trip into the city? They were society elites after all. Shouldn’t they show their faces?

Sighing, Marie tapped her fingers onto a standing globe before giving it a little spin. No. She hadn’t been permitted to leave the property since the accident.

Another thing that didn’t sit well with her.

Feeling fuzzy, she opted for a nap. That evening, before bed, she dropped another tablet down the sink.

That night brought her dream, this time with flashes of colour. One colour. Red.

The morning brought her nausea, vomiting, and chills. The dream was gone. The second question Colin asked after her wellbeing was if she’d taken her medication.

He counted them. She’d been smart to dispose of them.

It was all she needed to know something was wrong in her household and through the pain and the sickness, she continued to forego the ‘necessary’ medication. Her dream was stronger, bits and pieces of what seemed like a fantasy were reappearing in her mind, and her fear of Colin Devereaux only grew stronger.

There wasn’t any communication to the outside, save the telephone but she was smarter than to try. They did have an extensive collection of encyclopedia, so again she took to the library. This time it was while he slept, at half past three in the morning. The night, dyslexia, and the tail end of her detox all working against her.

She had the orange pill bottle clenched in her right hand, flipping through the pages of the volume she’d selected, finding nothing. She read the name of the medication seventeen times, working letter by letter to no avail.

She sat back with a sigh, flicking off the tiny lamp she’d brought with her before turning it back on again, eyes roaming the bottle and finding an ‘active ingredient’. That was available in a different volume, and her stomach turned to stone as she read it, chills of a new kind settling underneath her skin.

“….working as a memory suppressant in several trial drugs thought to aid victims of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Never fully tested, it was pulled from all clinical trials due to ethical controversy and potential for misuse.”

With her hands pressed against her mouth, Marie stopped the sobs that shuddered up from her chest. Not here, not now. She had to make it back upstairs, back to her suite where if she was found, she could pretend to have had a nightmare. After that, she had to leave.

It didn’t matter wholly what the truth was anymore, what were memories and what were dreams and what were fantasies. What mattered now was survival.  For going on ten months she’d been living with a monster. A man drugging her and manipulating her to what end, she wondered.

The next morning she had a name, a name from her dreams and she felt a little better. It also brought with it a number. She’d always been good with numbers and when she spied the telephone from across the parlor after breakfast, she wondered if he would answer if she dialed.

She had a friend somewhere out there in the world, or had at some point. Maybe he could help her.

But calling him from here was not an option. What if he didn’t remember her? What if she’d done something terrible?

For three days, she resisted the urge to flinch when Colin walked in the room. For three days, she kept her hands busy with estate work and leisure so he couldn’t see them shaking, and for three nights, she combed the encyclopedias until dawn, looking for something she could use to give herself a head start.

Finally, on the fourth night, she added some liquid from a sleeping gel into her husband’s nightly cognac. He wouldn’t sleep suddenly, but he would sleep longer and far more deeply once he turned in.

With only a few pieces of jewelry in her handbag, she slipped out of the one blind spot the estate security offered, and ran into the night.

At sunrise, she found herself in civilization. A small town by the looks of it, directions written on a wooden post at the crossroads. Junon wasn’t far, but she wouldn’t be able to walk there. She’d worn her most sensible shoes, but she’d been running for nearly six hours.

She traded a ring for a a bath, hot breakfast, and a truck ride from the innkeeper who was more than eager to do whatever she needed of him.

In the city, her first stop was a jeweler. Even without memories, she knew that trading would only get her so far. She needed cash. Whether she was truly Lady Devereaux or not didn’t matter; she held herself well enough not to be questioned and left the establishment with a purse full of gil, less the bribe she’d paid to have any evidence of her being there destroyed.

Next, a cellphone. One that couldn’t be traced, that had no bill. What did they call them?

“A….burner phone, ma’am?”

The clerk shifted uncomfortably at the woman before him. She didn’t seem all there.

“Yes,” she replied, straightening a bit. “I need a burner phone.”

“No one who buys one of these it up to anything good, you know,” he joked, “you’re not dealing, are you?”

Handing over the gil, Marie looked up with an icy glare, unappreciative of the humor.

“I’ve just left my abusive husband,” she said, lifting her chin, “and I must find Reno.”

The young boy didn’t hand over the box, instead offering to set it up for her. He didn’t know who this ‘Reno’ was, but if what she said was true, maybe he should help.

“I’ll also need to know the fastest route to Midgar,” she informed him, “I think I belong there.”

The second clerk froze from stocking shelves to look over at the counter, sending the boy a questioning glance. Where was this woman from?

“You’ll uh…you can take a boat,” he settled on, “uh…buy a ticket to ‘Edge’ though.”

Marie accepted the phone he handed her, slipping it into her purse. “Edge?”

Realizing this woman was either off her rocker or had been isolated for too long, the young cashier didn’t want to upset her, so he shrugged with a small smile. “New Port Codes, I think,” he told her instead, “maybe it’ll end up being safer for you too.”

Satisfied with this, Marie headed to the harbor and bought the next ticket on the fastest ship. Alone in her cabin, she lowered herself to the bed. If Colin was after her, there would at least be enough distance between them that when she got to Midgar, she could vanish. Or if not vanish, possibly enlist the help of someone.

With the phone in her hand, her heart raced. She had a number, and she had a name. Aside from that, she had nothing. She didn’t recall this ‘Reno’ or why they were of any importance to her. When had they met? Were they involved with her accident?

She wouldn’t know unless she tried, so with trembling fingers, she dialed.  After four rings, there was a voice on the other end.

“Yo listen you got the wrong number.”

Marie’s brow wrinkled. What an odd way to answer the phone.

“…Reno?”

A little sigh, followed by a groan. “Ayyy okay so you ain’t got the wrong number but if this was about the other night, I was drunk and—“

“Reno it’s Marie.”

Silence.

She prayed it wasn’t confused silence. She prayed he knew who she was. She prayed that he was someone who would help her.

There was shuffling on the other line, followed by a slamming door. “Where the fuck have you been.”

The demand came out as a hiss, but the tone of concern did not go unnoticed by her.

“I don’t know; I—“

“All I get is this freaky voicemail, you go missing, and a week later the fucking world starts to end! What the—“

Her eyes widened as muffled groans and growls of frustration came through.

“The President is in a bad way, Marie. He…we could really use you, and you—you were just gone. No one just vanishes like that unless we make it happen. You know that.”

She didn’t know that, and she didn’t understand the cause for concern but she did know about the voicemail. She’d relived it almost every night since she’d stopped her suppressants. Wherever she’d been—Midgar, she assumed—she’d been running from someone. She’d called him for help.

He hadn’t answered.

By the time his voicemail beeped, she’d been snatched and all she could do was scream.

In this moment, she knew it was Colin Devereaux himself that had taken her.

Taking a breath, she leaned forward. “…why…would Winston ShinRa have any use for me?”

She was terrified of the answer. The President’s reputation was a filthy one riddled with cheap affairs and illegitimate offspring. If she’d had any part in that…

“Winst—what the—No! Rufus, blondie! How can you not even—what happened to you?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand coming up to cradle her forehead, “I…I’ve been forced to take memory suppressants. I only just stopped taking them and I can’t…I’m sorry but I just can’t remember anything about myself.”

More silence, and she thought for a moment how almost comical it was. Reno was never silent. It pleased her that she knew this.

“Well that’s great,” he sighed, “scrambled eggs for brains. Well seriously, you should get here. Brick wall memory or not, you might be able to do somethin’ to lift his spirits.”

Her?

“…why me?”

This silence was different, as if it were a subject he wasn’t used to, or perhaps was uncomfortable broaching.

“…because you’re in love with him.”

Marie stared ahead at the wall of her cabin, any words she might have had to object swallowed by the fact itself. Who was she?

Luckily for her, Reno wasn’t in the mood for dwelling on sentiment, if he ever was, and charged ahead, a familiar teasing tone directed at her.

“Yeah, you don’t remember? You were always up his ass like some kind of pet or something.”

He cursed. It was low and under his breath, like he couldn’t believe the situation they were in, like he didn’t need more on his plate, but it was followed by a low groan.

“Tell me when you’re scheduled to dock. Rude will pick you up.”

When she’d given him the information she needed, the call ended and she took a breath, the phone trembling in her hands. She realized she didn’t know—or remember—what sort of person Rufus ShinRa was. Was she jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? Reno might have known she loved him (maybe everyone knew), but he hadn’t said anything about the president’s feelings for her. What if, especially in the bad way he was in, she was met with resentment or rage?

She had, after all, disappeared.

At the port, this ‘Edge’, Marie recognized nothing. Where had her city gone? Panic rose up in her chest and as her eyes searched for anything familiar, she felt her body freezing her where she stood, grumpy passengers pushing by her as she stood in the way, so out of place in her glamorous, tailored clothing and sophisticated hairstyle.

A hand on her shoulder took her attention away from the sight before her and she looked up, met by an unsmiling face and sunglasses. Unsmiling, but not unkind. She knew this man—or had, at some point.

“Rude?”

His hand slipped from her and he beckoned her forward with the smallest of nods. Dutifully she followed, sliding into the car, clutching her handbag. After a few miles of silence, she looked over and smiled.

“I’m sorry I don’t have much to say…I’ve…had a confusing year and I don’t remember you enough.”

“…”

His lack of response didn’t seen to be from displeasure or annoyance, so she smiled again and tried to relax enough to sit back.

“…it’s fine.”

She believed him.

Marie didn’t keep track of the time they spent driving and she didn’t try to initiate any more conversation. Maybe she could have asked questions to prepare her for what he was taking her to, but she found herself tired of being told about what her life had or hadn’t been. She’d have to see for herself.

He lead her into the lodge and though first her eyes settled on Reno lounging on a sofa, the moment she caught sight of Rufus, confined to a wheelchair, the tightness that had been building in her chest burst.

She knew his face. She knew it.

The room tilted, memories assaulting her. Small, brief flashes of moments. A swirling pool of mako, a slaughtered lamb, a pink fluffy pen, the smell of a cappuccino, a knife at her face.

His hands on her.

She shook, standing there, her life seeping in through the cracks and she felt something stronger than anything she’d felt before.

Despair.

“I…”

There was so much she could have said, that she wanted to say, working her way through the confusion of sorting out everything before her, but there was only one place to start and in only a few steps, she was before him, falling to her knees, tears she understood and justified brimming in her eyes, but as they fell, no makeup smudged, not anymore.

“I’ve failed you, sir.”

[catte-bard]

Flufftober Prompt #4: Music

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People were staring. 

Bellona could feel their eyes on her as she moved across the floor. Men and women trying to be subtle in their conversations, but Bellona could feel their gazes following her. Whispering of her as she passed.

The city of Eulmore had decided to host its own celebration of the night sky returning to Norvrandt. As well as celebration of their new leadership in Master Chai-Nuzz.  And such a celebration would not be complete without having the Warrior of Darkness and her companions as guests of honour. 

Still recovering from the Crystarium’s boisterous festivities, Bellona had been hesitant about attending. However, Alphinaud had insisted that it would be proper. They had been personally invited after all. And he did not want to imply any favoritism towards the Crystarium. 

And so she had accepted the invite.

Lady Chai had fussed over her all morning. Trying to get her ready for the evening’s events. Picking out dresses and jewelry to wear and styling her hair. It was rather pleasant and even reminded her of her own experiences with her mother back home. 

Laughing and chatting with each other. Trading stories about Alphinaud and Chai-Nuzz—for the men were not allowed to join them on their day trip. It was a nice day of sweets and tea and gossip. And it had been enough to make her chest ache with nostalgia.  

“That white-haired beau of yours is going to have his jaw on the floor when he sees you tonight.” The woman had tittered while brushing her hair. 

She was talking about Thancred of course. 

Bellona didn’t know how she had been aware of their relationship. Was it that obvious to an onlooker? They tried to keep it a secret but had they simply not been subtle enough?

She had said nothing on the woman’s comment. But her blushing cheeks did not go unnoticed. Lady Chai catching her expression in the mirror’s reflection.

This of course led to some teasing and prying. Trying to get Bellona to tell her all about the “handsome roguish fellow” that she was courting. Indeed it was like talking with a mother. And unlike with other people, Bellona had actually found herself willing to talk about it. 

Share all the “dreamy details” as the woman had put it.

And Lady Chai had made it her mission to turn Bellona into the most “beautiful maiden” at the party. Promising her that she would turn heads and steal hearts. And perhaps break a few as well when they found hers was already taken.

She was absolutely turning heads right now. And was thankful that the thrum of the orchestra drowned out most of the conversation. The few fragments she caught made her blush with bashfulness.

The dress picked out for her was different from the typical dresses the ladies of Eulmore wore. It was slim and form-fitting. Showing off the graceful curves of her body that her travel clothes hid. Made of a dark blue fabric with glitter spotting it, making it reminiscent of the night sky. Dulia-Chai had truly outdone herself.

The attention didn’t bother her—she was used to the attention. On the Source she had gotten many awed stares and excited whispers from people. Though here she felt so exposed without the familiar layers of clothing she usually wore. 

Nervously, she fiddled with her skirt; she could feel her face growing hot as she looked through the crowd. She was running a bit late but the other Scions should be here by now. Perhaps already mingling amongst the crowd. 

How long had it been since she’d attended a proper dance? Far too long. She knew not what to do with herself. Usually she would mingle herself but a sudden wave of anxiety had her in its clutches. All confidence she had as the Warrior of Darkness had been stripped away. 

“Bellona?”

A familiar voice caused her to turn around. And her heart almost leapt from her breast when she saw Thancred there. In a sea of unfamiliar faces, his was most definitely the one she had wanted to see the most. And she could not help the beaming smile spreading across her face. 

“I was looking for you.” She almost sighed in relief as she strode up to him, taking his hands in hers. 

A lop-sided grin. “And I for you. Thankfully, I needed only follow the excited whispers about the Warrior of Darkness’ arrival.” He gave her a look up and down, admiring her appearance for the night. The astonished grin on his face seemed to grow bigger. “Twelve, Bel, you look...gorgeous.”

The man cleaned up well himself. Black pants, white dress shirt, and a cream-coloured waist coat assembled his attire for the night; complemented by a deep green cravat around his neck. The gentleman hiding behind his persona as the roguish gunblade-wielder. 

“I could say the same about you.” Bellona beamed. “I think I see some of that former bard shining through.” She jested and placed a loving hand against his cheek. 

“My dear, I have always been a bard.” He told her and turned to kiss her palm. “And you will always be my most treasured muse.”

Bellona smiled at his flowery bardisms. A part of Thancred that she hoped never would change. It was part of his charm, part of the reason why she loved the broody man.

“Do you know where the others are?” She asked. 

“No but I’m sure they’re around. We’ll probably see their faces later.” He told her. “But for now I believe it would be appropriate of me to ask the Warrior of Darkness for her first dance of the night.”

He took her hand in his, bowing his head slightly and letting his lips brush against her fingertips. 

And she was faintly aware that they were being watched more closely now.

Now who was this handsome fellow the Warrior of Darkness seemed so intimate with? Already she could hear the excited whispers and gasps and giggling. They most definitely would be the talk of Eulmore tonight.

Over Thancred’s shoulder she spotted a young man confidently approaching with two drinks in hand. However, he stopped short when he saw her and Thancred together. She saw a brief flash of jealously and then defeat across his face before he slumped and walked away. 

She regarded him with sympathy, remembering Dulia-Chai’s promise that she would break hearts tonight. And she hoped the poor lad’s was soothed by some other pretty face who wanted to dance. Though she was sure Thancred might have earned some envy from him and a few other individuals. 

The Warrior of Darkness, a legend come to life. Their hero and saviour. And none of them hardly had a chance to charm her before this roguish fellow came in and swept her off her feet before them.

“You dance?” She smiled with a brow raised. The man was gifted with his tongue and the blade but she knew not if the same could be said about his feet. 

“I’ve had my few occasions which required it.” He said.

“Then I would love to join you, Master Waters.” She accepted.

“Right this way, Mistress Marcellus.” And he bowed deeply before looping his arms through hers. 

Together they made their way to the dance dance floor. A few guests moving to make way for them. Their hushed conversations making her feel self-conscious again. She could feel her face turning hot at the feeling of their gazes.

“Ignore them.” Thancred murmured to her. “Focus on me. Focus on us.”

And they were on the dance floor with the other swaying, twirling couples. The song the orchestra played was a slow and gentle melody. Something easy to fall into step with. 

Focus on me.

Thancred’s words echoed in her mind as she watched the tender expression on his face. He took one of her hands and another rested upon her waist. And she placed a nervous hand upon his shoulder. 

When had been the last time she danced with someone? Far too long. And the anxious thought of embarrassing herself and Thancred intruded into her mind.

“Relax.” Thancred whispered to her. 

Relax. She told herself.

Thancred was there. He wouldn’t let anything happen. Everything was going to be alright. 

And he pulled her into the rhythm of the music. Movements mirroring the ones of the couples around them. His steps were graceful and confident and she was reassured she would not make a follow of herself if she followed his lead. 

It was so easy to lose herself to the music then. Focused on him and this perfect moment, Bellona cared not what the other guest saw. Cared not about what they said. Only about sharing this lovely moment with the man she loved. 

She saw nothing else but his handsome face. His warm eyes. His lovely smile. For a moment, it was just them...Just two smitten souls and the beautiful melody of the orchestra. 

“You’re beautiful.” Thancred suddenly murmured, breaking her from her trance.

And Bellona laughed. “I do believe you’ve already told me that.”

He gave her his charming, lop-sided grin. “Have I? Well perhaps you deserve to be told it more than once?” He hummed. And the man looked at her thoughtfully, suddenly growing very quiet. “Can I say something selfish?” He eventually spoke, his voice hushed.

Bellona tilted her head. “Go ahead.”

“I never want this moment to end.” He admitted. 

She laughed gently and rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes as they swayed with the music. “I don’t want it to end either.”

[deadendairgetlam]

irisviel and arturia had the kind of relationship that always felt like a “maybe”, “could have been”, or “in another world, perhaps”, but even so, it seemed so very familiar to them that it’s hard to remember how fleeting their time together was in reality.

fate in general is a series that put a lot of emphasis on relationships formed and strengthened in a short period of harsh circumstances, and irisviel and arturia’s was no exception. their bond was as conditional as most servants’ are in some ways, yet displayed indications of unconditional affection in others. it was a thing meant to be defined by limits and boundaries, yet contradicted and crossed over so many that the line between them blurred to the point where it was hard to distinguish where it lay.

maybe friends. could have been lovers. in another world, not as resigned to a grievous fate, perhaps something lasting. undeniably, and regardless of any what ifs and lost chances, there was a strong sense of companionship between them, an intimacy that was tentative and dangerously indulgent and achingly necessary to find some light in the darkness of the inescapable shadow the grail war cast over them.

there was a lot between them didn’t have to be, perhaps even shouldn’t have been. irisviel wasn’t obligated to treat arturia kindly, and arturia wasn’t obligated to go to greater lengths than necessary to see irisviel enjoy herself. certainly, they were both tied together by duty, but the mould that defined their relationship wasn’t shaped by it.

part of it may have been that they were so alike in nature, both never quite treated as human and resigned to the inevitability of it. both were willing to sacrifice themselves again and again if it meant protecting the people they care for. both are loyal to a fault. they were not identical, of course. arturia doubted, whereas irisviel never quite let herself, but there were enough parallels that echoed between them that finding comfortable common ground was easy and natural.

and then there were hints that they began to learn together with an almost childishly wide-eyed curiosity. they’d both been isolated from more lighthearted feelings and much more, but they experience them together. they learnt and grew to the extent that they could in the limited time that they had.

they treated each other as equals, because in many ways they were. they complimented each other as much as they contradicted one another. arturia was not treated as more than, and irisviel was not treated as less than. whereas arturia was physically strong and irisviel fragile, irisviel possesed strength of mind where arturia steadily showed that her uncertainty left gaping holes in her mind’s barriers.

for all of this significancy, as was to be expected from the dying, they didn’t last, fading. that doesn’t mean that the memories didn’t linger, buried deeply into the crooks and corners of the emiya household before it even became to be known as such.

arturia remembers, even if she doesn’t speak much of it, it’s apparent in the small things. the memories are too intimate and fond to be kept anywhere but held closely to her heart, her grip never loosening enough to fully share them out of fear that putting them into words would dull the lucidity of them even more than nostalgia already has.

irisviel wasn’t the last person to recognise and treat arturia as human, but she was likely the first to do so since arturia’s crowning. that can’t be forgotten. it’s rather sad that one of the only to acknowledge her humanity beneath the weighted mantle of king was never quite human herself, arturia knows, but irisviel means all the more to her for it.