#just before it was Italian music. So much so people kept dropping Italian words in sentences around me

[icharchivist]

i understand the point people are making with those posts but it's always a bit funny to me when i see those posts about like "god people are so weird with how they talk about Japanese/Korean culture, imagine we do the same thing with Germany and suddenly start to drop German words into our sentences like that that'd be so weird" and it's like, yeah, i can imagine that, very well, that's what living in Europe in the late 2000s during the Tokio Hotel mania was like.

Like, unironically exactly like that.

I get the original point, i really do, but this might be the wrong example.

[nyaheum]

My Annual Eurovision List - 2023

Completely based on music videos until we actually see some staging. Don’t come at me.

37. POLAND

Solo – Blanka

LMAO fuck TVP. Jann would have been my winner.

36. LITHUANIA

Stay (ČIŪTO TŪTO) – Monika Linkytė

Bleh. I know some people really like this song, but...bleh. There’s nothing here that sticks with me. The song was over and I forgot what it sounded like. I don’t know, I’m used to more from Lithuania.

35. IRELAND

We Are One – Wild Youth

This is the point where I feel like too many bands are hurting this year. They would have been fine any other year, but comparing them to the other bands this year, they’re quite weak. I also expect them so sing “We are Young” every single time...what is fun. up to anyway? (hiatus, apparently.)

34. AZERBAIJAN

Tell Me More – TuralTuranX

Uh...it’s a song. Their name reminds me of Duran Duran. Remembering the name of Duran Duran was the main thing I did while listening to this song. I abolutely HATE spoken word, oh my god. And apart from that, this sounds like one of those songs from an average to slightly bad romcom. Not even the ending song, but the one from the middle, the part where the producers knew that they wanted to convey the passage of time so they simply chose to do a montage.

33. ALBANIA

DUJE – Albina dhe Familja Kelmendi

The guy singing in between is absolutely taking me out. Definitely would’ve liked this more if the chorus hit harder, like this it’s just...kind of sad? But not the good kind, the melodramatic kind (which I can appreciate, to a certain extent, but not to THIS extent.)

32. CYPRUS

Break A Broken Heart – Andrew Lambrou

Did you know that Andrew actually wanted to participate for Australia in 2022? Yeah. I googled this while listening to the song because it has nothing that pulls me in. It’s fine, don’t get me wrong, he has a great voice, but...eh.

31. GREECE

What They Say – Victor Vernicos

Why is he a child. I like the chorus, kind of, but that’s pretty much it. Very meh.

30. LATVIA

Aijā – Sudden Lights

Another song that really takes its time to build up to nothing noteworthy, which is a shame, because in its basics, I quite enjoy it. It’s just a little...frustrating when the chorus comes and goes and nothing in me has changed? Idk lmao.

29. SWITZERLAND

Watergun – Remo Forrer

This is my grandma’s favourite song this year, yay? For some reason I keep reading his name as Ferrero Rocher. The letters barely match, I think it’s just because this is Switzerland. (yes, ferrero is italian, idk.) Oh, the song? It’s fine. It’s not his fault he’s not Gjon.

28. ICELAND

Power – Diljá

It’s fine. Feels very generic, but doesn’t hit hard enough to justify it. Specifically considering it’s Iceland sending it.

27. ARMENIA

Future Lover – Brunette

Surprisingly good in theory, but in the end I only actually like the middle part. The beginning is well sung but a little too slow for me, and I don’t really enjoy the end in general? I’m very unsure with this.

26. NETHERLANDS

Burning Daylight – Mia Nicolai & Dion Cooper

I don’t find any joy anymore either, dude. We’re so in synch, damn. Why does the first chorus do that thing where it teases a nice build up for half a second just to drop immediately? And then the second one doesn’t even properly redeem it. Ruined the whole song for me, genuinely. Not that I liked it a lot before, ehem.

25. DENMARK

Breaking My Heart – Reiley

I listened to this and kept thinking that it sounds like a song I already know, but...turns out it was just this song the whole time. Apparently someone at my local radio station really likes it. I don’t, really, I feel like I might be too old for this type of music. Talking about this...you’re telling me Reiley is OLDER than me? What the hell.

24. ITALY

Due Vite – Marco Mengoni

Second year in a row where Italy doesn’t really do it for me, damn. At least it’s a lot better than whatever was going on last year with Brividi. I still liked Supereroi a lot more and think it should have won. Meh.

23. SAN MARINO

Like an animal – Piqued Jacks

Certainly a song. All I could think about while watching this is one Youtube comment simply saying “He is a little hot” because...they’re not wrong? The song itself just doesn’t hit – but I have the fleeting suspicion that this might be fixed by having the sound mixing done by literally anyone that ISN’T San Marino. I don’t even dislike it or anything.

22. ESTONIA

Bridges – ALIKA

I know that everybody loves this, okay? It’s good enough. Perfectly good ballad. It’s not her fault I dislike most ballads. I do like the last minute though, it picks up a lot, I enjoy that.

21. AUSTRALIA

Promise – Voyager

I love how Australia is really going through the classic Eurovision evolution. My right ear also likes the song. I watched the music video, and I think the left one just didn’t get invited or something. It’s actually REALLY off-putting.

20. SLOVENIA

Carpe Diem – Joker Out

Please don’t come for me, but why does everyone love this SO much? Like, I like it a bit too, but not as much as everyone else seems to? I genuinely feel like I’m missing something here.

19. BELGIUM

Because Of You – Gustaph

This is so groovy, I don’t know why everybody hates it. (I mean, I DO know, but apart from that...it’s not that bad.) It’s not the best thing I’ve ever heard, and the aspect ratio of the official music video freaks me out, but it’s very camp – which is a good thing, obviously this is Eurovision after all!

18. UNITED KINGDOM

I Wrote A Song – Mae Muller

I had no expectations for the UK, mainly because I missed all of the teasing they did, so I’m completely fine with this...it just feels like a lot of songs this year sound similar to this? Maybe I’m going insane. But it’s nice to listen to. I wouldn’t turn the radio off if it came on.

17. GEORGIA

Echo – Iru

Imagine how much more this could have slapped if it was in Georgian. Just imagine. It’s fine like this too, and I’m sure it will be elevated by the staging, but...just imagine, honestly.

16. ROMANIA

D.G.T – Theodor Andrei

Okay, let’s ignore the performance for a bit, and just judge the song. I quite like it, actually. His voice is nice, it’s absolutely something different, and I always give a native language bonus.

15. MALTA

Dance (Our Own Party) – The Busker

The revamp did good things for this song. I like a good saxophone, and I feel like this is quite underrated in the community. It’s fun(ky), I think they will be great live, and the music video is definitely worth a watch while you’re at it.

14. SPAIN

Eaea – Blanca Paloma

I feel like I shouldn’t talk about this song without my lawyer. It’s growing on me, very slowly, but there’s still only select parts of the song that I really like, while the rest is just something I have to go through to reach them. Like the salad you get when you order a steak with fries. (I also just liked Agoney a lot more.)

13. PORTUGAL

Ai Coração – Mimicat

After a song I absolutely couldn’t stand last year, Portugal absolutely delivers again. Feels very authentic to Portugal, I really like her voice, it’s quite fast-paced, I really enjoy it.

12. SWEDEN

Tattoo – Loreen

It’s a song. I don’t know, I don’t care about it, it’s good, sure, but it’s absolutely not a winner for me. Also, the pre-chorus sounds so much like another song I know, but I cannot figure out which one and it’s driving me insane. (I have to admit though, rhyming pain and rain IS true lyrical genius, and whoever wrote that part should win an award.) I like the studio version more than the live version by the way. Yes, even with the performance. Don’t ask me why.

11. MOLDOVA

Soarele si Luna – Pasha Parfeni

I love that as long as we have Moldova, Eurovision will never be boring. This is genuinely nice, too, and fills the void Fulenn left in my heart last year perfectly.

10. FRANCE

Evidemment – La Zarra

C’est très...French. Obviously. Good French, but French nonetheless. Groovy, though. I can appreciate that it’s not really a chanson chanson.

9. UKRAINE

Heart Of Steel – TVORCHI

It’s completely fine. Quite good, even, but I just don’t think that it lives up to the songs Ukraine sent the past decade or so...which is understandable, not only because of their situation, but because the song sent by the winning country never really is. I still really appreciate it for it’s modern tone and the bass. (still preffered fiinka though sorry)

8. CROATIA

Mama ŠČ! - LET 3

This is my absolute guilty pleasure this year. I even rather like it musically, I quite enjoy it away from all the chaos. Of course, the chaos is the main reason I like it. What would Eurovision be without these songs, seriously? BRRRR, TRAKTOR.

7. ISRAEL

Unicorn – Noa Kirel

I know people don’t like this because it sounds like three songs mashed together, but I quite like it. Why? Probably because I listen to K-Pop, I’m used to the mashed-together-sound, and I quite like it. Apart from that I enjoy the song, of course, although I’m purposefully ignoring the lyrics.

6. SERBIA

Samo mi se spava – Luke Black

I listen to music like this quite a lot, so I obviously enjoy it...I’m just very afraid that it won’t really land at Eurovision, not with the juries and not with the televote. But I’ll be optimistic and delude myself into thinking that there’s no way it won’t at least make it out of the SF. (And I would absolutely believe it if it was in Semi 2 instead of Semi 1.)

5. NORWAY

Queen of Kings – Alessandra

She, Queen of the Hype! For good reason though, this is GREAT. Very Eurovision, very European in general, I love good party music.

4. CZECH REPUBLIC

My sister’s crown – Vesna

PLEASE PLEASE LET THEM BE GOOD LIVE. I can’t take another Austria 2022. This is SO good. I love it musically, I love the mix of languages, I might have a small crush on their rapper, please let them be good live. Please. I beg you. (I have a bad feeling, though. Especially the chorus just seems very hard to replicate life. I’ve seen the NF, I know.)

3. GERMANY

Blood & Glitter – Lord Of The Lost

I’m still so...in awe that we’re actually sending something good this year? Like, how did this happen? Who did we sacrifice for this? (Answer: Electric Callboy.) This kind of music just feels very German, even if they’re singing in English. My only critique is that I want him to growl more, but if their Eurovision stage is anything like their winners performance at the NF, I’m not worried.

2. AUSTRIA

Who The Hell Is Edgar? - Teya & Salena

No, seriously, who is Edgar? I only know Teya & Salena. This is such a bop – WITH a message, damn. Easily moved into my Top 5 immediately after it came out. Probably my most listened to song this last week. It’s REALLY addicting. What the hell, Österreich? Not both of us going through change right now, aww.

1. FINLAND

Cha Cha Cha – Käärijä

This song came out, I heard it once, and decided it’s my winner this year. Only Gladiator could have possibly challenged it, but we know how that went, so this is my undisputed first place. Please, juries and televote, do not rob our small king.

[deanwax]

A TALE OF TWO THEATRES

Two juxtaposing journal entries about theatre shows I've seen, and how art can upset you as well as make you feel alive.

***

9 June 2022

Very unpleasant experience at theatre last night. I didn't journal it - I didn't even put a set snap on Instagram. I'd rather forget. It would have been a nice show, except it's hard to call it a show. Instead, it was a 50-minute endurance test of Man vs Sound. I can handle brief loud noises. I can handle many sustained loud noises. I cannot handle 50 consecutive minutes of absolutely BLARING, maximum bass, penetrating music with virtually no reprieve. It was. So. Loud. Ridiculous. It was all I could do [to] physically block my ears and try to suppress urges to tear out of there like a bat out of hell or yell at the sound technician. I could not focus at all. It got comical at points - like oh, good, there's a fucking tuba now. That was a hostile creative choice. But not for long. Then the discomfort set back in. It would have been much the same if the actors simply yelled in my face: YOU'RE AUTISTIC. YOU'RE AUTISTIC AND THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU AND EVERYONE IS GOING TO KNOW THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU. Awful. And I usually mask very easily because I was socialised as a girl.

I made a comment in the survey afterwards and I managed to keep it civil, but I am angry that I even had to divulge that I'm on the spectrum at all because of such a stupid production decision. I had to listen to Softy's Green River Stones meditation song he made on repeat the whole train ride home. I am very grateful for Tama's Discord server. They were sympathetic (especially Sunny who is autistic too) and helped me feel better. And I picked out a nice Italian restaurant for lunch on Saturday, so there's that to look forward to, too.

WALK - July 2022 - Blue Room Theatre

[scrawled in the top margin] (my hand in agony from writing fast due to excitement)

Absolute joy of the form! (Joy of the form! Joy of the form!) Oh! Another dance performance, completely and literally in the dark: I was as a newborn babe. Strobe lights blind us and we glimpse a lone figure in the doorway of a set filled with dark shapes. The lighting in this show was incredible: the lights danced just as much as the dancer. It was an incredible [symbiosis]. The figure tried to walk forward from the doorway but kept getting pulled back into the light. The music was alien and surreal.

[annotated in the margin] -> core memory: the shell of human ears against a writhing silhouette. fantastic.

It became almost primordial when the dancer crawled inside a misshapen swathe of fabric suspended from two wires. They writhed like a worm and then the fabric raised to reveal a great monstrosity of pleats, silks, ruffles and fringe bathed in green light. It moved as though two people were puppeting it, I was genuinely second-guessing myself that someone might have been hiding there since before the audience filed in but no: it was just ingenious costume (set?) design. A face and hands emerged from the beast and then the dancer too, walked away from that. They emerged in tin foil armour that eclipsed their vision, with a chest plate resembling a labia.They sat in a pyramid of light strips that rapidly oscillated bright colours. In a frenzy of techno they started to struggle, the armour twisting and turning backwards, the helmet eventually pulling free and levitating in the pyramid on a wire. Rave music starts to doof. We're all wired. The dancer pulls on a fringe coat (yes!) and a baseball cap with a full veil of fringe (YES!!) and they DANCE. They dance to the primordial gods. They dance as thought the helmet is their enemy. They dance until they drop.

Unclothed and amidst their fabrics, a spoken word poem plays. It speaks of hurt and defense mechanisms, of fear and armour. It's definitely rape trauma. And everything makes sense! But the poem also speaks of hope: a world that is gentle and and bright and shimmering. The dancer delicately gathers up their things, playfully exploring their set as though they see it from a new perspective. A sexy dress is held up against their body. They waltz with it and carry it backstage. They return and uncover a green wig in the corner. It briefly represents a new lover.  Then they don the wig themselves and a new, more colourful fringe jacket (YESS!!!). And then things get CAMP. We're talking a full werk and lip sync to an empowering pop song. In these moments I understand the cultural significance of drag. Proximity and empathy is required to fully enjoy it, which is why the distant commercialism of Ru Paul's Drag Race falls flat. I was giddy, laughing and clapping like a child. An absolute joy to behold.

***

Author's note: They are very passionate about inclusivity at Blue Room. Loud noises have been disclaimed in the show warnings ever since and earplugs are now available for shows with loud sounds.

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

What’s your favourite type of exercise? I don’t really exercise, haven’t for years and given how weak my body’s gotten from illness for years deteriorating my muscle strength...walking for more than a very short period of time before having to sit so I don’t drop would be a godsend so walking

What type of alcohol can you not stand to drink? I’ll drink anything I can get my hands on, though I’m not a big fan of champagne

Do you play The Sims? What’s your favourite one? I used to all the time...but I haven’t since like, they came out with the vacation one and the one where you can get pets so goes to show throwback lol I loved those expansions/spin offs that came out then and had so many more options for houses, hard to choose just one and I’m so far behind I’m sure I’d love the more recent ones too

Whose wedding did you last attend? my fiance’s cousin’s in December 2021

Have you ever received a parking fine? no

What time did you wake up today? kept dozing on and off for most of the day

Do you know anyone who has a hyphenate name? I’m assuming this means last names to which yeah a few

Have you ever studied colour theory? no?

What can you hear right now? listening to music and tv in the background

Are you in any group chats? Who’s in them? none

Do you have a lisp? unfortunately because of severe underbite and jaw issues yeah...I try putting my teeth together when I talk like how most people talk but you can still see and hear the lisp since physically I can’t fix it without surgery...very very very self conscious about my jaw/teeth/talking...

What are you afraid of? darkness, spiders, silence, abandonment, losing everyone...

What are your fingernails like right now? short

How many pillows are on your bed? two

Are you more a numbers or words person? words

Do you separate your laundry? no, never have

If any food or drink could appear in front of you, what would you get? ALCOHOLLLLLLLL...and a pound of crabs with old bay seasoning! 

What languages can you count to 10 in? obviously English...and Spanish, Italian, and I can “say”/read Roman numerals 

Who in your family are you most similar to? as much as I hate it with every bit of my heart and soul, my mother.

Other than Christmas, do you celebrate any religious holidays? I mean, Easter is religious but I wouldn’t say I “celebrate” it, plus I’m not religious 

Have you ever worked in retail? Where did you work? oh dear lord that’s half of my resume is retail...Six Flags (yes that counts), Forever 21, Kohls, Walgreens (pharm tech but counts still, plus also covered the front register sometimes)

Do you have an Instagram account? Do you use it often? yes and no

Can you parallel park? I used to be able to but not anymore lol not gonna chance it

[sirserpentine]

Angel slicked his hair back and spun into Pentious' arms, still holding his hand. It was a twisty, pretzel-like situation.

"Pfft, 'can ya foxtrot,' 'can ya waltz.' Of course I can!" He grinned. "You think just cause I'm a star I don't know the classics? I was BORN for this, baby! I–" In the middle of his sultry purr, Angel hesitated. Eyes dropped away from his friend's face. He wouldn't be able to live up to this little speech once they'd actually started. "I, I mean I used to... when I was alive, y'know. I haven't done it for... you know how it is, I usually just..."

His ruse unraveled so fast. He hugged his lower arms together, looking like he was about to cry or something— but he kept it together. He didn't want to make Pentious sad.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, is it okay if you show me how?" You can lead, too, he added silently. "I got people linin' up to dance with me, but it's not... like that. I don't remember."

I wanna remember.

He could remember. He could remember all of it, just not the dance, not the steps. He remembered sights, he remembered smells— huge Italian banquets with relatives he had never seen before, and would never see again. The food, like a hug from his grandmother. The music, like liquid gold. Bouquets of roses. Chocolate fountains. Gunfire.

His father, his brother, and his sister.

He remembered avoiding dancing as he grew, since it had ceased to be something he could do for enjoyment and had become instead what society viewed as a romantic gesture. He'd been forced to dance with girls.

He didn't want to dance with girls.

"Hah- there I go again, ruinin' the mood with my stupid stuff!" Angel laughed and rubbed his eye with the bottom of his hand. "You don't haveta if you don't wanna, Pen. It's late. We could do a parlor game or somethin' and then go t' bed."

The way Angel's smile dropped and how his arms flew around himself reminded Sir Pentious of the physical impact of a wayward grenade so much that for a moment he really wondered if the spider had hurt himself.

His words were quick to diminish that worry, but only partially. There was pain, for real, but not the kind you could see pushing and pulling at a body, but one that came from deep within. Certainly familiar for everyone who had left their original world behind. It was for Sir Pentious as well.

"...I know," he said simply, with the rare feeling of grandiose words being futile right now. "I know," he repeated, and his hand already raised up to wipe away a tear from the corner of Angel's eye, but switched lanes at the last moment to give a slight ruffle to the wild nest of his hair.

"Pish posh, you haven't ruined anything," Pentious said with a reassuring smile and a confident lilt in his voice. "Of course I'll show you how it is done, foxtrot is rather simple, really. Just follow my steps and you'll-"

But just the slightest glance down at their feet... well, Angel's feet made Pentious realise that it would be impossible. He didn't have any himself. He couldn't walk, never mind step. It was surprisingly easy to forget, especially at a moment like this. In his self-decorated study, with a classic piano playing in the background, he had forgotten that he wasn't a rather passable looking man anymore, the one whose shoes would click onto the ground and who'd run and walk and smile without fangs. Who wasn't such a vile-looking... creature.

Pentious stared at his tail for a moment and then looked back up at Angel, who by now must've realised their problem as well. Then, not able to stop himself, he let out a rather loud laugh.

"Oh my, well, I think I need to adjust my teaching angle a bit. Uhm...The pattern of the steps could go, slow, quick-quick and slow again..." He tried to move his tail in demonstration in a way that at least resembled foxtrot's common strut, but found it rather difficult, even though he had to go slowly for Angel's sake just as much as his own. After a moment, he pondered if there was an easier way to go about it, and grinned at Angel as an idea struck him.

"Hohoh, this is rather tricky! Let's try a move that requires no legs from me and no steps for you, ssshall we?"

He brought both of his hands down to Angel's waist, in between his arm pairs, and in one solid movement lifted his friend in the air and spun around quite fast. The confidence in his movement hinted that this might have not been the first time he had used surprise twirls to cheer up someone close to him. It was a method that usually guaranteed at least one delightful shriek of a giggle, if not a full-on smile. He really hoped that Angel would be no exception.

[rek1s-headband]

hello! First off, just wanna say your writing is amazing and gives me so much joy with how well you write the characters. Secondly, mayhaps a set of headcanons for poly!y/n with Langa and Reki or a cute date one shot?

➯ A/N: Hey! Thanks for the request, hope you enjoy:)

➯“Lady and the (two) tramps” poly date one-shot

➯ Characters: Reki Kyan x Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

i know it says “lady” and the 2 tramps but thats just cause yall act out a scene from the movie dw its still a gn reader

➯ Warnings: none:)

➯ Word count: 2K

You skipped down the stairs at the sound of someone enthusiastically knocking at your door. You could only assume it was Reki, he always picked you up before the two of you headed over to Langas, whose house was furthest out of you three. You flung the door open, grinning when you saw Reki smiling up at you from the doorstop. You let out a scream of delight, jumping into his arms as he responded with a laugh. You heard his skateboard skitter along your driveway when he dropped it, arms coming up to wrap around you as he spun you around.

“Hey sweetheart” you heard him muffle into the side of your neck as he held you close, and you could feel the smile on his lips. He slowly brought his head out, hair ruffled and a dopey grin on his face. You reached up to fix his hair, reciprocating his greeting with a smile of your own. You brought him around the side of your house to collect your skateboard and help him retrieve his from where it was cast on the floor. He reached out to offer his hand to you, bringing it up to kiss it when you accepted. “Shall we go?” He cocked his head to the side, smiling brightly when you nodded and stood onto your skateboard.

And so the two of you made your way to Langa’s, you shooting him a quick text to let him know you were on the way. You and Reki made light conversation as you skated along the roads of Okinawa, talking about where the three of you would go today. It was a Saturday, which usually meant it as date night for you three. What you did on your dates changed quite a bit, but according to Reki, Joe had some new recipies on his menu that he wanted to try, and he thought you and Langa might like them. Joe’s was a regular date spot, the three of you annoying the shit out of the poor man with your antics. You would stay there for hours, simply asking for water and breadsticks until he threatened to kick you out in an attempt to lengthen your visit. He would never actually kick the three of you out though, he loves you too much. You hope.

You picked up your board as you and Reki got to the front of Langa’s house, both of you knocking at the same time. You could hear his mother behind the door calling him excitedly, telling him his partners were at the door. You heard what sounded like Langa practically falling down his stairs, and you and Reki shared a look, both wondering just what was going on in the house. Based on Langa’s dishevelled demeanour as he stepped out the door, something of the sort had indeed happened. His expression quickly picked up when he saw the two of you waiting for him. He pulled the two of you into a hug, giving Reki a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around to press one to your forehead. And once again you were skating down the road, except this time it was all three of you, headed to Joe’s to stuff yourselves with his new meals.

The smell of Italian cuisine wafted through your nostrils as you took in the scenery around you. Joe’s was particularly packed today, but your booth was empty as usual, the three of you slipping into it while laughing at something Langa had said. After the first month or so of you going to Joe’s on Saturdays, he’d started reserving the booth for you to ensure you had somewhere to sit. You sat beside Langa while Reki slid into the other side of the booth. You’d swap who sat where every week, for example last week Langa and Reki sat on one side while you took the other. Joe made his way out of the kitchen, smiling when he saw the three of you sitting down. He made his way over to you, menus in one hand and a notepad in the other.

“I was wondering when you kids would finally show up! Thought you’d decided to ditch me this week.” The three of you laughed while he placed the menus down, looking at you expectedly. “so let me guess,” he pointed at you, “breadsticks?” You laughed while Reki shook his head, to which Joe gave him a puzzled look. “No? But its what you always seem to get. In a rush to leave today?” Langa flipped through the menu, pointing out a few things to you with one hand while the other snaked around your waist.

“Not today, were on a mission.” Reki explained while you slid down in your seat, stretching and getting comfy while Langa practically salivated over the menu. “We heard you’ve got some new stuff on the menu, and we wanted to make sure we had enough time to try it.” You and Langa nodded enthusiastically while Joe chuckled, checking his watch.

“Well you’re lucky you didn’t get here later, I have just enough time to whip up the new ones for you before I close up. So dont go getting too comfy, I’ll have to kick you out within the hour!” You smiled at Joe, sliding even further down into your seat and cuddling into Langa, exaggeratedly putting your arms around him as you batted your eyes as Joe.

“Oh dont worry, we wont get too comfy!” Langa played along, practically lying down in the booth with you as you faked being asleep. Reki giggled across from you, snapping a few pictures of the two of you. You shot into the booth beside him to look at the photos, horrified when you realized he had posted them on his story. You pouted as he pulled you into his side, giving you a quick kiss as he explained how cute the two of you looked. You slid back into Langa, both of you pretending to ignore Reki, laughing when he started whining about how he’d leave and make you two pay for everything yourselves.

When the food finally came, you all watched with wide eyes as four big plates were put in front of you: a new spaghetti and meatballs with “improved sauce”, a huge pizza littered with [whatever toppings you like], a lasagna dish with extra crispy cheese, and a big basket of garlic bread. Langa was practically foaming at the mouth beside you as you watched Reki immediately lunge for a slice of pizza. You turned around to thank Joe before grabbing your own fork and diving into the lasagna.

After the three of you had demolished the better of 2/3 of all the dishes, you grabbed the pate of meatballs, declaring you wanted to try something with them. “It’ll be cute! Come on” you begged as you set up your camera. The plan was to recreate the scene from The Lady and the Tramp, taking turns sharing a string of spaghetti before meeting in the middle. They eventually agreed, allowing you to hand them a string of spaghetti to put in their mouth.

First was Reki, who kept sucking too fast and pulling it out of your mouth, just eating it for himself. Eventually he got it right, pulling you into a sweet kiss in the middle of the table. You had to tap him to make him take away his hand he’d placed at the back of your head in an attempt to keep you there just a bit longer, worried that people were staring. He giggled, watching as Langa made his way to the other side of the table so you could properly film it. Reki gave him a quick kiss before Langa gently placed the spaghetti in his mouth. However, he kept laughing and had to replace it multiple times. Finally he stopped laughing long enough for you to meet him in the middle, giving him a soft kiss. When you broke away he was quickly getting up and coming back to your side, declaring it was him and Reki’s turn. They took the longest, Langa’s laughing and Reki’s speedy eating combining to create absolute chaos. When you finally had it filmed, you looked around to see the restaurant completely deserted, Joe yelling a muffled “Get out!” from the kitchen. You picked up your boards and ran out, leaving your money on the table and yelling a “Thanks!” In Joe’s general direction.

You skated along the road, stopping at a corner store to pick up some snacks for while the three of you were skating. Reki was playing music from his speaker as you talked, acting as background noise while you laughed together. Just as you had been picked up, you and Reki skated with Langa back to his house. His mom was already waiting for him at the door, waving at you excitedly when she saw the three of you come into view. You all went up to the door, giving her a hug and making small talk while you said goodbye to Langa for the night. After Reki said goodbye and walked over to talk to his mom, you wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek and holding him tight. He laughed, rubbing your back as he pulled away from the hug to run his hand through your hair and along your cheek, pulling you back in for one final kiss. You and Reki waited until they had both gone inside before skating off, headed for your house.

You hung around your door with Reki for a few minutes, not wanting to go inside and for the night to be over. Soon enough though, you were telling Reki he needed to head home, not wanting him to skate home by himself too late. He chuckled, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head. “Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t defend you and Langa? I’ll be fine sweetheart.” He pulled away to look at you, smiling down at you while he rubbed your face. You leaned into the touch, telling him you were still going to worry and he should head home regardless. He faked a pout before grinning, pulling you close and giving you another kiss, swaying you as your hand came up to mess with his hair. When you finally pulled away, you stayed in his arms for a little while before finally stepping closer to your door, letting go of his hand last as you opened it. You waved goodbye to Reki before blowing a kiss, which he caught, bringing his hand to his mouth.

Before you closed your door, Reki stood onto his board and began to make his way down your driveway. “Goodnight sweetheart!” He yelled as he looked behind at you, nearly falling off his board because he wasn’t looking at where he was going. You laughed, waving back.

“Goodnight my prince!” You could see him smile at the nickname from the end of your driveway, before finally pushing off. You closed the door when he left your sight, smiling to yourself as you made your way back to your room. You looked at the videos you took earlier that day, smiling when you heard Reki cheer in the background of you and Langa’s video. You sent them into the group chat the three of you had, laughing at the pictures Reki took of you and Langa and saving them to your phone.

Maybe the three of you might make a reappearance at Joe’s the following day. After all, the food was delicious, among other things..

[brattyfics]

— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @amorestevens​

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, pining

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: Thank you for all the patience and support! I love love love seeing replies and reblogs :,)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Journey to Azzano

October 24, 1943

Yet another sleepless night. A night spent away from the nurse’s tent, handkerchief in hand, with eyes cast towards the heavens. The stars stared back, silent watchers from above; the petrified audience to a grotesque display of gore, violence, and inhumanity. Lottie knew that they were nothing but balls of gas, great masses of fire that drifted in that infinite chasm of space millions of lightyears away. Somehow, her heart still broke for them.

How painful it must be to be a star, she thought, To see the Earth, to see its people, to see the love and hope. To be forced to watch its destruction, its pain. Oh, how the stars must weep, gazing down at the broken bodies of men and boys, women and children, all victims of such a cruel war.

Still, the pain of a star could never come close to the pain of a nurse. The stars would never hold those bodies in their arms, they would never fumble for a tourniquet as blood spilled from a fresh wound, the stars would never have to slide a man’s eyelids shut, his skin cold to the touch.

Lottie was becoming quickly acclimated to the smell and feel of death. It never seemed to leave her skin, no matter how thoroughly she washed her hands. Though they were constantly rubbed raw, she could not rid them of death’s stench or its thick grime that seemed to coat every inch of her skin.

After they’d left Pantelleria, the SSR had scrambled to stay afloat, constantly caught in the crossfire of other Italian campaigns. The Germans had weaseled their way into northern and central Italy, with carnage in their wake, the nurses of the SSR were left to care for their victims. Lottie had come to know death as intimately as one knows the curves of their lover’s body, all the dimples, ridges, and edges.

“No number of bandages would’ve saved him, Lottie,” Gladys would whisper, “We’re nurses, not miracle-workers.”

“If I remember correctly, folks at the SSR sure love to rant about that ‘miraculous’ serum we developed.” “Betty, you know what I mean.”

Lottie wished she could be a miracle worker. The men that she managed to save definitely thought she was, but who wouldn’t think so highly of the woman who saved them from certain death? It would have been a comfort to visit them in the recovery ward, but the SSR would whisk them away, further north and closer to Hydra before she had the chance.

The SSR found themselves in Siano, a village an afternoon’s trek away from Salerno. At another time, it would be quite lovely. The quiet little community was nestled between small mountains, far too grand and looming to be called hills. The greenery was lush and the air was crisp, mingled with the saltiness from the nearby sea. A cool, sweet breeze kissed Lottie’s cheeks and became entangled in her curls that had finally been loosed from her strict bun. With every graze of the breeze against her cheeks and every rustle of the grasses beside her, it seemed that the very earth was breathing beneath her. Every movement was a great inhale or exhale that emanated around her; the only calming element to an otherwise restless night.

Their camp was just outside the town, stationed in an expansive field which was quite likely an abandoned pasture. Camp had been sloppily thrown together, after a horrifically bloody day in Salerno, morale was low and they knew their stay would be short-lived. Agent Carter had mentioned that they were urgently needed in Azzano; there was a POW situation up there that involved Hydra. Their stop in Siano, as Colonel Phillips had explained, was merely for recuperation. With a day of bloodshed behind them and several days’ worth of traveling ahead of them, rest was needed by all.

But she couldn’t really rest, could she? Lottie would always be on edge, on high alert, until she had her boys by her side once more. At every camp, in every campaign, she searched for the 107th. For any sign of a USO show. So far, she had come up with nothing. Nothing but disappointment.

All that she could do was gaze up at the stars and wonder if a pair of clear blue eyes were doing the same.

Somewhere in Azzano

Liquid fire in his veins. Muttered words in German. Leather straps that dug into his skin; they kept him from writhing in pain. Days bled together and he could barely find the willpower to stay conscious, blurring the lines between his dreams and reality.

Bucky didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was going on, either. All he knew was agony, frustration, and a girl. His best girl, Little Lottie. The first time he’d seen her, he was sure that she was real. He had just undergone the first round of… whatever this was, and all of a sudden, she’d appeared before him, dressed just as she’d been when he last saw her— white uniform, thick stockings, and a heavy coat that seemed to swallow her whole.

He’d tried to yell at her, warn her about how dangerous this place was, but he could only muster a choked groan which had earned him a blow to the head. After that, she kept appearing— every time he was poked or prodded at, she stood in the corner of the room and watched over him with a smile on her lips. His head would loll to the side with exhaustion and their gazes would connect; it was the only glimmer of hope in the midst of his torture.

His Little Lottie would only speak to him in his dreams, but she wouldn’t speak, really. No, she’d do this thing he’d seen her do to Stevie hundreds of times when he was sick in bed. With gentle hands, she would smooth his hair away from his forehead, freeing the sweaty, bloodied strands that clung to his skin. She quieted his groans of pain with soft sounds and breathy hums of her favorite songs— mostly from the musicals they had gone to see in the thirties. Little Lottie was fondest of numbers by the Gershwin brothers, he’d noticed, as she was always humming one of their tunes in his dreams.

Any anger toward her was forgotten, but the fear remained. Fear for her safety devoured him from the inside out; if Hydra ever got their hands on her, there would be hell to pay.

Siano, the next day

“Y’know if you’re gonna make a habit of this, I might as well take your pillow for myself.”

Lottie blinked her eyes blearily, taking in the figure of Betty before her. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep outside. Again. The first time it had happened, they’d been camped out in Salerno and while her companions had gone to bed earlier, she’d attempted to calm her nerves with a midnight cigarette. Suffice to say, the cigarette had done its job, though she’d woken up with a terrible pain in her neck.

This time, the pain was located in Lottie’s lower back, probably due to the uneven ground she’d fallen asleep on.

“Believe me, Betty, I don’t intend to make this a habit,” Lottie gritted her teeth in pain as she attempted to maneuver herself off of the ground.

Betty sighed and grabbed her hands, heaving her up, “C’mon, we don’t have all day. Colonel Phillips wants the tents down as soon as possible.” She jerked her head in the direction of the other three nurses a few yards away, they were evidently having a difficult time with the canvas and poles of their tent.

The two of them rejoined their group and Gladys tossed a pack to her with a smile, “Your stuff’s all good to go. Figured you needed the extra sleep.” Lottie squeezed her shoulder in thanks and observed Nancy and Mary as they argued over the correct way to pack up their tent.

“First we need to disassemble the poles, then we wrap up the canvas and—”

“No, we need to take care of the canvas before we can—”

Agent Carter stalked toward them with a rather agitated look on her face; only she could look powerful crossing an uneven field in heels. Lottie bundled up some poles in her arms, trying to stow them away in a pack before they could be berated for being the last ones to finish.

“Ladies,” Agent Carter began, voice firm, “You did not go through a year of training just to be the last ones done packing up your tent. We need more speed from you five to reach the one hundred and seventh in time.”

Lottie nearly dropped the metal poles in her arms and choked out a gasp, “The one hundred and seventh?” That was the regiment with the POWs? The POWs that had fallen victim to Hydra? Her heart was suddenly beating a mile a minute, her stomach was all in knots.

Agent Carter furrowed her brow, likely confused by her reaction, “Yes, they were vastly overpowered in a recent battle. We’ve been summoned to provide medical care to the survivors as well as to assist in a reconnaissance mission for information regarding the whereabouts of the POWs.”

She was tempted to ask about Bucky, to see if she’d heard anything about their survivors, but she ultimately decided against it. It was unlikely that they already had extensive knowledge regarding those who had been saved or lost.

“We’ll be done in a jiffy, Agent Carter,” Nancy nodded, removing the poles from Lottie’s grasp.

After another minute or two, their tent was packed away, and each nurse was outfitted with a hefty pack that carried their belongings. Together, the nurses and the rest of the SSR agents began their trek through the Italian countryside, keeping close in their groupings. It would have been far easier to be transported by plane, but the agents had to take as much caution as possible with Hydra's threat level. If traveling by foot kept the lowest profile, then that was what needed to be done.

Lottie’s four companions broke out into quiet conversation to pass the time while fearful thoughts weaseled their way into her mind. What if Bucky really had been taken by Hydra? What would they do to him? Would they kill him? She’d heard of their horrors from Erskine, and she’d even seen their ruthlessness at his assassination. The dark thoughts that began to swim around in her head made her want to be sick. Lottie wanted to double over and retch, to alleviate the sick feeling that crept into her at the thought of Bucky in Hydra’s clutches.

“You alright there, Lottie? You’ve been awfully quiet,” Gladys sidled over to where she was walking, only a foot or two away from the rest.

“I don’t think so,” Lottie began, her voice strained, “I mean, with the one hundred and seventh and everything, I just, I don’t know how to—”

Gladys nodded, a sad look on her face, “I know, it’s a dreadful situation, isn’t it? I can’t imagine how those survivors must feel. Having your comrades stolen away from you in a bloody battle.”

“It’s not just that, it’s also—”

“Oh yes, definitely more than that. Not only the mental anguish but the physical, too. I mean, we’re here for a reason, we’ve got to be prepared for the worst when we get there. I’ve heard they’re in absolute shambles.”

Lottie fisted her hands in frustration, “Gladys. Bucky’s a member of the one hundred and seventh. That’s his damn regiment. And I haven’t a clue of whether he’s dead, alive, or barely holding on in some dingy cell, so I would really appreciate it if you would spare me the monologue about how terrible their situation is.”

Gladys stared at her, a look of shock painted on her face, “Lottie, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I— gosh, I feel absolutely awful now, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lottie grabbed Gladys’ hand to squeeze it, their arms knocked together as they walked side by side, “I just need to think optimistically right now. If I start thinking about all the atrocities, I might go crazy.”

Gladys squeezed back, a faint smile growing on her lips, “You’re right. Think optimistically. I bet he got out of it just fine, with a few scratches though. But he’ll be waiting for us real patiently, waiting for the fine nurses of the SSR to patch him right up.”

She found comfort in Gladys’ words. It was much nicer to picture him that way, sitting in a medic tent cot, wounds scabbed over in blood, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Maybe he'd be cracking jokes with the other poor souls stuck in that tent, his eyes alight with humor and that lopsided grin threatening to send that cigarette straight to the ground. He would be a bit battered and bruised, but he’d be there waiting. Waiting for her.

[flourgirl]

When The Party’s Over

Part II to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn x Reader

Summary: The closer that Peter gets to Gwen, the more he realizes how irreplaceable you are to him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A few curse words here and there.

A/N: There’s going to be a third and final part to this story, so if you’d like to be tagged in it, please shoot me an ask or a reply and I’ll gladly add you to the tag list. Hope you guys enjoy this new part and happy reading :-)

“Counted all my mistakes and there's only one Standing out from the list of the things I've done All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go” -Where Do Broken Hearts Go, One Direction

It had been 17 days since you had last seen Peter and all you could do was sit in your favorite coffee shop and stare at all the muffins in the case. Peter loved muffins. His favorite flavor was banana nut, and usually the two of you would jam out to all of your favorite songs while you waited for them to come out of the oven.

“Y/N,” Betty said, snapping you out of your daze, “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at the pastries for, like, five minutes.”

MJ put down whatever book she had decided to read this week. “Yeah, if you want one, go for it. You deserve it. Here, I’ll pay.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded up $10 bill, dropping it onto the table in front of you, and returned to her book.

“You could get a slice of cheesecake,” Betty suggested. “I know how much you like the raspberry one from here.”

But all you could think about was how you wished Peter loved you the way that he loved those stupid banana nut muffins.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, crossing your arms and closing your eyes to take in the soft jazz music that was playing alongside the chatter of the café. “But I’m keeping the ten bucks.”

“Maybe it would help take your mind off of things if you met someone new,” MJ suggested without even looking up at you. It was honestly amazing how she could carry on a conversation while still being so engrossed in her book.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Betty agreed, “You’re so smart, and pretty, and you made all of the baked goods currently taking up lots of precious space in our kitchen.”

“You’re a stress baker,” MJ added. She was right. Over the past two and a half weeks since that night, you had baked three cakes, four pies, and seven different kinds of bread. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night you tried out the new focaccia recipe you had been eyeing.

“I don’t know, guys,” you said, slinking further down into your chair. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay,” Betty reassured you. “Take all the time you need. But we’re here for you, Y/N.”

And that’s how the rest of that day went. Lots of suggestions on ways to stop thinking about Peter and you shooting them down. No matter how Betty and MJ tried to make you feel better, your mind was stuck on the nine voicemails and thirty-two texts he had sent you saying how he was sorry for whatever he did and how he just wanted things to be normal again.

Except you didn’t want normal. You wanted him. You wanted his bad puns and the way his sweaters smelled when he let you borrow one. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t know that he had broken your heart.

----------------

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t like Gwen. She was outgoing and confident, and he liked how it felt like she was always the center of attention. People wanted to talk to her, or sit next to her, or even have her know that they existed.

But she wasn’t anything like you, and the more time that Peter spent with her, the more apparent that became. She didn’t rant about reality TV or get so overwhelmed during public speaking assignments that the only way she could calm down was with a hug from him. In many ways, she was perfect. Except for the fact that she wasn’t you.

“We’re still on for Flash’s party on Saturday, right?” Gwen asked as she walked with Peter out of the lecture hall where they learned about vascular mechanics.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t even remembered that she had asked him to go to that until she brought it up just now. He was too stressed out wondering whether or not you’d ever speak to him again. 

But what did he do to make you upset? He had promised that if you wanted to leave the party, you could tell him and the two of you would go. Except you never said anything. You just got up and left, without even saying goodbye. You hated him and it killed him to not know why.

Despite this, he wanted to be the good guy and not disappoint any more people, and so he took Gwen’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there.”

----------------

If someone had told you that you’d run into Harry Osborn in the middle of Arthur Avenue, you’d say they were crazy. And if that same someone said that you’d ask him on a date, they’d be even crazier. But somehow, some way, that’s exactly what happened.

You were on the way to interview a third-generation restaurant owner for your Italian class. You had never been very good at foreign languages, but you would use any excuse to take a trip to Little Italy. The nervous knots in your stomach from the possibility that they would only speak in a dialect that you couldn’t understand was worth it, because this little nook of the city was home to the best arancini in all of America.

To be honest, it seemed unbelievable that he’d be there, at that exact time, in that exact place to where you’d run right into him. You had been too busy reviewing the notes you had taken during the interview to see that you were on a direct path towards face planting into his torso.

“Fuck,” you grumbled, staring down at your notes scattered on the sidewalk at your feet. The guy you had just ran into kneeled down to gather them into a neat stack, handing them back to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, which caught you off guard. Who the hell was this? It wasn’t until you stared at his face for a few seconds that you recognized him. That guy that Gwen was with at the party. He looked a lot different in his button down and khakis compared to the sweatshirt and baseball cap he had on when you had first met him.

“Uh, hi. You’re Gwen’s friend, right? Henry.” You knew his name. You just didn’t plan on letting that you knew it.

“Yeah, but it’s Harry. Sorry about that, by the way. So, anyway, what brings you all the way down to Little Italy? It’s pretty far from campus,” he told you, as if you didn’t know that. I mean, you had walked all the way here, hadn’t you?

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.”

It was the first time in a while that someone wasn’t fawning over him just because he was rich. Honestly, it was really refreshing. “I asked first,” he noted, mimicking your crossed arms with a smirk.

Who does this guy think he is? 

“Listen,” you sighed. “I really don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my apartment and finish up writing this essay that’s due at midnight.”

“So you’re taking Italian, I presume?” he asked, it suddenly becoming quite clear as to what you were doing on the other side of the city.

“Yeah. And let me guess, you were eating brunch at some fancy, expensive restaurant that your dad owns, drinking some $100 bottle of wine while some nerd you pay does your homework, huh?”

“No,” he laughed. “I was helping put together Thanksgiving dinner baskets for underprivileged families down at the soup kitchen.”

It was only then that you noticed how annoyingly handsome he was. Essentially, he was the male version of Gwen. Same blonde hair and preppy style that just screamed “I have a trust fund.”

“Of course. What, did you need a good photo op ever since the Daily Bugle ran that issue where they called you a spoiled playboy who loves to party?”

You had no intentions of entertaining him, especially since he was a friend of Gwen’s. The girl that had kissed Peter right in front of you, and pretended like she couldn’t remember your name. The girl that Peter was probably with right now.

“I’m not going to pretend like that wasn’t part of it, but believe it or not, I’m not actually as big of a selfish asshole as the papers make me out to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I can tell by the cashmere sweater vest and leather loafers that you’re wearing that you’re so down to earth.”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry decided to change the subject before he pissed you off even more. But what he chose to mention next was the one thing on the planet that you didn’t want to talk about.

“So, uh, I guess your friend Peter is with Gwen now,” he started, which had somehow managed to make you dislike him even more than you already did. Sure, there was no way for him to know how you felt about the whole situation, but it still pained you to think about how you had become an afterthought to who you thought was the guy who would always have your back.

You blinked back at him, frowning. “Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered. And then there was another awkward silence.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. It’s obvious I’m taking up some very precious time in your day,” he said, offering a weak smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” 

It suddenly dawned on you that you might have been just a little too hard on him. He seemed nice enough, even if you weren’t a big fan of the company he kept. Before you could even really think about it, you called out, “Wait!” and walked over to meet him when he had turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, nervously toying with the hem of your sweater. “I’m just in a really bad mood.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, although he wasn’t quite as confident as when the two of you had started your conversation. “We all have bad days. I hope yours gets better.”

“It could, if you’d let me buy you a coffee,” you said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Sure, it was nice to think that Peter would probably be upset once he heard that you had asked someone out and he knew nothing about it, but a small part of you was asking just because Harry Osborn seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to have around.

“Sure,” he answered back, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to be in a perpetually perfect messy-but-not-too-messy state. “Have you ever been to Hungry Ghost in Brooklyn?”

Your eyes lit up. “That’s actually my favorite café! They have this really awesome grand piano in the middle of the room, and every Friday they have an open mic where anybody can sign up to play it.”

Your enthusiasm honestly surprised you. It was nice to have something to talk about that didn’t somehow involve Peter.

“Actually, I’m signed up to play tomorrow night,” Harry told you, “Do you like jazz?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. You loved jazz. “Definitely,” you confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, cool. Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you buy me a coffee if you come watch me play tomorrow night.”

“Deal,” you agreed, before turning back towards your apartment, all giddy with excitement to tell MJ and Betty about what had just happened.

----------------

“You probably didn’t know this, but Y/N’s been hanging out with Harry Osborn,” Ned said, walking into the common room wearing his “special” Hawaiian shirt, which Peter knew meant he was going someplace fancy. “They’re kind of dating.”

Peter looked up immediately from his linear algebra homework. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about what Ned had just revealed, but he didn’t know why. He was with Gwen, and if you wanted to date Harry Osborn, then you could. But still, he found himself being just a little bit jealous that some other guy was filling in for him.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking back down at his homework. He couldn’t focus anymore, so he just shut the notebook and threw it from where he was sitting on the top bunk onto his desk. “How long has that been going on?”

“Two days now, but they’ve been spending every minute together since. Betty said that they bumped into each other on the street and she just asked him on a date out of nowhere,” he replied, tying his shoes to go meet his girlfriend for date night. “I just thought I’d let you know, in case you saw them when you were out and got mad at me for keeping it from you.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter sighed, lying on his back, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Anytime, man. Now I gotta go. M’lady awaits,” he said. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that his roommate had just tipped his imaginary fedora.

Harry Osborn wasn’t even your type, Peter thought. You didn’t like guys as “pretty” as him, and you had always been more into brown eyes, not blue. So what was the appeal? His trust fund? Peter knew that you weren’t that shallow. It was just that, well, he couldn’t imagine you falling for someone like that.

You’re with Gwen, Peter kept reminding himself. So many guys would kill to be in your place. It wasn’t until he checked the time that he realized that he was actually about 20 minutes late to meeting her for the party. The stupid party at Flash Thompson’s tacky apartment that he didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

It was an understatement to say that Gwen was pissed when Peter knocked on her front door over half an hour late to the time they had agreed upon.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” she complained, smoothing out her sparkly silver dress that caught the light just right when she moved.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed, grabbing her hand as they walked down the street. “Uh, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Whatever,” Gwen said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

When they finally arrived at the party, the bowls of potato chips and mini pretzels were nearly empty. The floor was sticky, and Old Town Road boomed from the speakers in the living room. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Peter told Gwen, leaving her to greet all of her friends that had been waiting for her to show up. 

As Peter wandered towards the keg, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Harry, and all the things that he didn’t know about your newfound relationship with some guy you had just met. He still didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He should be happy you had found someone you liked. In high school, all you ever talked about was finding the perfect guy, and if that was Harry Osborn, who was Peter to make a fuss about it?

But that didn’t stop Peter from filling up his plastic cup more times than he should’ve that night. It wasn’t until he was being dragged back to his dorm room by Gwen after puking on Flash’s couch that he realized what was wrong. He wanted to be that guy. The one who got to hold your hand and cuddle with you during scary movies. The one that got to love you and be loved by you.

----------------

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn

P.S.: Sorry to all the people I forgot to tag on this one! I didn’t know that when you answer asks privately, they go away from your inbox. Please shoot me another ask or reply to this post so I don’t miss you again!

[overkill-max]

Wedding mini-fic

A mini-fic of what happens during and after the wedding. From the perspective of Maya’s mom. 

---

Looking back at the wedding pictures, she thinks she looks out of place. She sees herself without makeup, in a plaid shirt. Having left her husband that same day. He was on a rant about Maya and her “lifestyle choices.” Katherine was cowering, just as her daughter described her. Feeling suffocated. She looked at Lane, all the anger directed towards her daughter, that would soon turn to her, and she felt herself turn into the husk she was before she left.

For an instant, she thought about Maya.

“I have to go pick up ice.” Katherine whispered. Lane did not hear her. He never heard her. Or Maya. Or Mason. Or anyone else.

She grabbed her purse and her mask and left.

 //

She did not pick up ice.

Maya’s house was empty.

Katherine didn’t know where to go. The only other place familiar to her was the fire station.

 //

She walked in not knowing her daughter would be admitting she forgot to write her vows. Carina mentioned that it did not matter, that it was sweet and perfect that Maya, someone who was overprepared and had lists and clipboards, had forgotten to write down a list. She was too excited to start their lives together.

“I love you, and I choose you. Forever.” Hearing her daughter say that with such joy, made her cry. Interrupting their vows. She apologized but the way that her daughter and her soon to be bride looked at her, both lighting up, let her know she made the right choice.

//

Maya and Carina were happy for most of their wedding.

Then they realized that another firefighter had taken her job. Or cost her the job. Katherine was still confused about how a person can get fired so casually.

She thought she would need to hold her breath. Whenever Lane was upset, she would walk on eggshells to avoid setting him off.

Maya looked betrayed and sad. But not devastated. She was not angry. Her wife excused them with a polite smile, then took her outside.

Katherine did not know if she was allowed to follow or not. She wanted to comfort her daughter. Yet it had always been hard. Maya was so much like Lane. Hiding everything away until it exploded in unhealthy ways. Lashing out. Wanting to keep everyone from seeing her in pain.

She worried about Carina.

It was a lovely wedding.

She should not have followed them, but she did.

//

“Maya, it’s okay.” It was soft. “Bambina, you are a fighter and so smart and strong. If this captain job is what you want, you can get it back or get another captain.”

Maya said something too soft for her to hear through the door.

“No, you are an amazing good captain. This is just them punishing you for supporting your fire fighters and not the administration… remember what you told me? Why they were afraid to do what you did?”

//

Katherine went back to the party.

//

She does not remember the rest of the party. Only what the pictures tell her.

//

The thing she does remember is how her daughter interrupted her own wedding to ask her friends to help her move in with them.

Even fire fighters from the other shifts helped. Five men stayed outside with Lane. The rest carried things she pointed to from inside the home she used to call hers. Packed her bags. “Mama B, you need your passport.” Carina… her new daughter in-law said.

It made the room feel smaller. Lane controlled that. He had all of that in his gun safe. In the office he kept locked up.

“Maya.” Her daughter nodded.

They were alone in the room where before she had always been too scared to move. Constantly drowning. No wonder her daughter chose to be a fire fighter. She was used to the feeling of having to work hard to breathe.  

Carina talked at her. Katherine did not have the mental capacity to forms sentences or words. Still feeling on edge. Never safe. Never safe in this house.

She appreciated how at ease the other woman was. How kindly she smiled. Not in that ugly way others did. Where they pitied her. Seeing her as both a victim but also deserving of Lane’s anger for not standing up for herself. For going back.

Carina was just as she remembered her at the spaghetti dinner. Genuinely excited to spend time with her.

It made her feel uncomfortable and happy at the same time.

Even Maya’s patience with her ran thin. Often lashing out in anger. Raising her voice. Narrowing her eyes the way her father did. She was so much like him. It broke her heart to see it.

Yet, Katherine understood that. She was comfortable in that. Had lived with that.

Carina was unexpected.

//

Maya returned with a stack of folders and a gun.

Katherine flinched.

“Maya, no.” Her daughter-in-law commanded.

“But…” Maya tried to argue. “No. Bambina, look at your mother… look at this country… Look at what happens when you have so many guns in the house and so many fears… I don’t want that in my house.”

Maya mentioned her father. It struck a new type of fear in Katherine.

“What makes you think he cannot buy another gun if you take this one? How much angrier is he going to be if that happens?”

Katherine swallows. She hated that Lane had a gun. Feared that he would use it against her. Or worse, the kids. Maya knew that. If he was angry, he might.

Carina understood anger. Escalation. Violence. She saw blood and death. The result of things like this.

“You take your papa’s gun and you have to be ready to shoot him with it. This thing, it will not end well. Leave the gun… this is only about your mama… you take that thing into our lives and you make it about something he thinks is his. You make it into a fight.”

Maya leaves in a huff.

“You are not his. You are yours.” Carina tells her. Firm voice. Needing to be heard. Soft hands. Wanting to comfort.

She nods.

They leave.

//

Everyone that helps set up her room stays at their house.

“It’s the after party.” Carina shouts happily. She puts on music and begins making pasta in her wedding dress.

Warren and Bailey come from the fire station with the men and women that stayed behind to clean up.

Cases of alcohol get brought into the house and people keep drinking and dancing. Victoria sings. Maya comes out in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. She kisses Carina and takes the knife from her. Telling her to get comfortable.

“Please don’t angry chop my pasta.” Her daughter-in-law begs. Maya shrugs. Pretending she’s not listening. Mimicking angry chopping.

“Mama B, make sure she separates the pasta and hang it to dry.” Carina shouts, laughing as she leaves the kitchen and bumps into Andy.

 //

The whole night was chaotic and filled with laughter and love.

//

Katherine wakes up early the next day. Not knowing what to do without Lane dictating every minute of her life, she lays there. Unsure of what she is allowed here. This place has her things, but it doesn’t feel like hers. It feels borrowed. Like last time.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen. Tip toeing around the place. Unsure of how quiet Maya and Carina need her to be. She is a guest.

“Suocera!” Carina enthusiastically greets her from the stove. Katherine nods. Confused. “Buongiorno.” She tries. It’s the only word she knows in Italian.

Carina laughs as she shakes her head. “Right... It… it is… you are the mother of the wife?” She asks. Not knowing the word.

“Oh. Mother-in-law” Katherine quickly fills in.

“Yes, suocera.” Carina repeats and smiles. Flipping over the French toast in the pan. Katherine stands there and Carina waves the spatula around. “I made espresso, but if it’s not your thing, you can add the water. Cups are there. Explore.”

“Can you grab me the thing?” Carina asks. Pointing vaguely behind her.

Katherine smiles. Uncomfortable. She likes the house. It is lovely. But Lane liked things to be a certain way. To stay there. For cabinets not to be opened unnecessarily.

“Uh.” Katherine stops. Looking at the counter.

“Maya, the thing! You know, the thing.” Carina says louder. Katherine freezes. Carina turns around, smiling and her face drops. She turns pale. Katherine waits for the explosion.

“I’m sorry.” Carina tells her. Voice softer. Hands moving wildly as she tries to find the words. “I’m sorry, suocera. I know when I get excited it seems like I am yelling. But I am not yelling at you. Or at Maya. I… I am not yelling.”

Katherine feels the tension in herself. In the other woman. As Carina wants to comfort her but does not step closer. She waits. Looking torn. “Boundaries.” Her therapist’s voice says inside her.

Katherine tilts her head down. Looking at the floor. She barely nods.

A small invitation is all it takes to be swept up in a tight hug. Carina pats down her hair and kisses it. “I’m sorry, suocera. I’m learning too.” Is all she says.

She cries and she is held.

The French toast burns, and Maya runs in to witness her wife running with a flaming pan, heading outside. Her mother is coughing. The water is on in the sink. Putting nothing out.

“Carina!” Maya shouts as she stares at her mom. Instead of finding the cold, angry blue she is used to, she finds worry. There is no blame. It feels like no time has passed but her daughter is different. This is not the same woman that told her she needed therapy for thinking what they went through together was abuse. For knowing it was wrong.

She runs out and takes command of the situation. Taking the hose from her wife and making sure there are no flames before heading back inside with a waterlogged piece of bread. Black from the flames. The kitchen is filled with smoke but there is no fire or damage.

Maya hugs her mother and Katherine feels like she can breathe. Even with the smoke. She cries. Her daughter had never been soft. But she changed for love. Katherine never felt strong. But she learned from her daughter. For her daughter.

She wonders what will happen if she stays. If this place becomes her home.

//

Katherine thinks she looks out of place. When the pictures come back.

She does not feel out of place.

Not then. Not now.

Carina is laughing beside her. Pointing out all the pictures that make her smile.

Three months feel a world away.

 //

Katherine was worried about Maya. The offer came from Carina.

She did not want to overstay her invitation. But finding a job as a home maker that was scared of men shouting or froze at every loud noise, meant her prospects were limited. Especially in a pandemic.

She wanted to find her own place. Or even a shelter. To let her daughter build a new life without the old once holding her back. But Carina was so nice. So welcoming. She was so soft and safe that it was hard to feel bad about not trying hard enough.

Maya was different too. She was still reserved. But she was brighter. In a way she never thought Maya could be. The last time she visited there was so much anger. Denial. She was closed off and lashed out when people got too close to the core of who she was. So much like Lane that it hurt to look at her and see nothing but steel staring back. Cold. Lifeless.  

Now she was nothing but awe and love.

Katherine liked it. She liked knowing who her daughter had become without all that pain. Without the constant pressure to achieve. To make Lane proud.

 //

She asked, once. When Maya was not home.

Carina was direct. She never made them guess. She never hid her feelings or what she wanted. She was stubborn. And she always answered. Even when she could not find the words. She would answer. Because Carina liked clarity.

Katherine understood.

Walking on eggshells while not knowing what would set Lane off made her appreciate Carina’s openness. Even when it made her uncomfortable. Or mad at herself for not being able to reciprocate. She still liked who Carina was.

“I get to have a family again.” Carina shrugged. Passing the sheet of pasta through the metal press.

Katherine waited. Carina was the daughter that she always imagined other parents had. She giggled easily and gossiped. Filled the silences with laughter and words.

“I did have a family. But it was before. Then mama left and I stayed so Andrea could go. And it was just papa and me. He was so angry, and their marriage was so terrible that I hated the idea of family… but then…” She smiled softly.

“Then Maya became my home and family was something I missed… I… in Italy… you are expected to move with your husband’s family. To have your suocera and their nonna and all these people constantly in your life… I wanted to have that…” Katherine nods.

“I know it’s selfish to want you to stay. Americans, you like your life to be individual and separate and borders and very yourselves. But… I feel like a momma chicken. I like all of the people I love in my house. In my roof. Happy and in each other’s life… it feels… warm. Like a home.” Carina shrugs. Cutting the pasta into small sheets.

Katherine smiles. Liking the idea that family, home, could be something other than what both her and her daughter have known. What her daughter-in-law has known. That it could be built on new traditions. Starting with a wedding she was underdressed for but still belonged in.

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Je T’aime (T.C.)

Another request for the angel, @thestarsaregivenonceonly​ . This is sooo fluffy, but I think we all could use a bit of that right now. Hope you enjoy, doll 😘

(fluffy smut for the soul, jealousy)

“Timmy, you’re making a mess!”

You were incredibly grateful that your boyfriend had found a project that kept him in New York for a few months. You’d just recently moved in together and were getting into each other’s rhythms. This included working on dinners together, much to your delight.

You squealed, trying to dodge Timotheé’s attempts to smear tomato sauce on your face.

“Just let it happen! You know you can’t outrun me,” he taunted, cornering you against the counter. He swiped it across your nose while you giggled and twisted away, spreading the sauce in a stripe across your cheek. “Ha! Gotcha!” he cheered, licking the last of it from his thumb.

“You’ll regret this, Chalamet,” you replied, wrinkling up your nose and poking him in the chest.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” He wiggled his eyebrows and locked you between him and the counter with his arms.

You ducked below his arm and slipped free. “Because, I’m going to use ALL the garlic! Not only that, but then I’m going to make you kiss me ALL night,” you replied smugly as you spread the fresh garlic cloves evenly across your flatbread.

Timotheé whined loudly behind you as he pulled a paper towel from the roll. “Ruuuuude. But fair is fair, I suppose.” He grinned, wiping the sauce from your face. “You’re much less intimidating without your Italian war paint.”

You giggled, standing up on your tiptoes to peck his lips before returning your attention to the ingredients before you. You opted for a few slices of fresh mozzarella, some basil, and a sprinkling of olives. Once you finished, you popped into the preheated oven. You caught Tim singing softly, his body moving to the music playing from your phone as he happily assembled his own pizza. A wave of adoration for the lanky boy washed over you, and you wandered over to wrap your arms around his middle.

“Hi,” he chuckled, patting your arm while his eyes fretted about to choose what flavor combo struck him that evening.

“Hi,” you hummed happily, watching him intently as he piled on more and more. “There’s no way you’re going to eat all of that!”

“We never eat two pizzas! We need to have people over on pizza night,” he replied, turning around, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands.

“I guess we are all the way moved in now and could do that,” you thought aloud, swinging your clasped hands. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Well, I was talking to C/S about coming over for drinks sometime this week. Maybe we could invite her,” he suggested casually, releasing your hands to put his own flatbread into the oven.

Of course.

You felt your elated mood drop sharply upon the mention of her name. The media had erupted with excitement when it was announced that they would be working together, and, as always, the fans began “shipping” them right away. Now, you’d been trying very, VERY hard to not feel insecure about all of it, and Timotheé always assured you that the relationship was strictly professional. While you had learned to brush off the media’s intense assumptions, it was hard to ignore it coming directly from the source. He often came home with wild stories that seemed to all circulate around her, even mentioning pet names they’d developed for each other. He knew you were sensitive about it, but it felt like he didn’t even try to hold back. You tried so hard to ignore your insecurities. You knew he would never sneak around on you, that this was just how co-stars interacted, and he was just one of those magnetic people who makes close friends rather quickly. But no matter what you told yourself, the little, green monster in you refused to let it go.

“Oh,” you replied dumbly, cursing yourself for letting it slip.

Timotheé turned around, his brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“I just- I mean don't you think that would be kind of awkward? Just the three of us?”

“Nah. She’s been wanting to meet you, remember?” Could he really not see what was going on?

“I don't know… Don’t you want to just.. be home? I mean you see her all day, right?” You cringed, hearing how blatantly jealous you sounded.

“Oh, babyyyyy. This isn’t about her at all is it? Are you jealous?” he cooed with a grin, cupping your cheek. He clearly found this all very amusing.

You pulled away, feeling horribly embarrassed. “I’m not jealous! I just figured you’d want some time to yourself,” you insisted, busying yourself by checking in the oven.

“Ahhh, you are! Look how blushed your cheeks are! Somebody has a crush on meeee,” he sang, hugging you tightly from behind.

“Timmy, stop it,” you choked, suddenly on the brink of tears. You were humiliated.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, love, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.” His demeanor completely switched, turning you around to look at him. Worry filled his features, making you crack. Like the flip of a switch, you were suddenly sobbing into his shirt, leaving him wholly confused and concerned. “Baby girl, what is it? Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You pulled back, wiping your eyes harshly. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” The timer chimed and you turned around, pulling dinner from the oven.

“Don’t be sorry, angel. Just tell me what is going on- Is this about C/S?” he pressed, his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms.

You sniffled, turning around to face him. God, he was a saint. He was nearly in tears himself as he fought to understand what could possibly have you this upset. You took a deep breath, trying to find the least confrontational way to express what you were feeling. “I-I just.. I’m having a hard time with everything this time, for some reason. I just feel like maybe she’s new and more exciting, and you’d rather have her around than me.” You felt even more ridiculous saying it out loud, but you couldn’t deny your own insecurities.

Timmy shook his head, clearly pained by your words. He pulled you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Mon amour, I’m so, so sorry I made you feel that way. I’d choose to have you around over anyone in this entire world, you know that right?”

You sighed, letting out a weak laugh. “Yes, I do. I just have such a hard time believing it sometimes.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “The only reason I reacted the way I did was because I can’t even imagine loving someone the way that I love you; it’s a whole other breed of love. I can’t imagine you being jealous over little, ole me,” he laughed, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Ugh, stop being so perfect,” you groaned with a smile, hiding your face in his shoulder. It was amazing the way he could soothe your worries in a matter of sentences.

“No, god, don't say that.” He shook his head, holding you close with one hand tucked securely at the nape of your neck. “And trust me when I tell you…” He leaned down, his lips just barely brushing over the shell of your ear. “No one excites me like you do.”

You shivered at his change in tone, peering up at him with flushed cheeks. “Yeah?”

He held your face, tilting his head as he captured your lips with his in a kiss so tender you thought you might faint. His tongue skipped across your bottom lip, lightly tugging it between his teeth. “Absolutely,” he breathed. “Let me show you?”

You blushed darkly, giving him a nod. He took your hand and tugged you off to your bedroom, dinner forgotten for the moment. You let him push you into bed and pull your leggings down your legs while you made quick work of your shirt, leaving you in a lacy bralette and matching panties. He groaned at the sight, his head falling against your stomach before looking up at you. “You don’t even know what you do to me; it’s so unfair.” His voice was low and needy, making you ache.

You laughed softly, sitting up to pull off his shirt. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply before you could get distracted with him. He wanted you to know that this was all for you tonight. He sucked on your lower lip, asking for entrance. You happily obliged, releasing soft sounds of pleasure into his mouth. He seemed to have this way of kissing you that made you feel all of his attention and adoration for you. No one had ever made you feel the way he did, and that’s why the thought of losing him to another terrified you so much. You hoped that he felt the same flips in his stomach for you.

“Come back to me,” he whispered gently, sensing your overthinking as though you were saying it out loud. You met his eyes, so full of love and concern. “I will spend every day of my life convincing you- I intend to, if you’ll have me.” He pressed kisses to your forehead, nose, chin, and travelled down your neck.

“Yes. Please,” you responded breathlessly. “I need you.”

Feeling just as needy, Timothee slipped out of his sweats and boxers, settling between your thighs and wrapping your legs around himself. He carefully pressed into your warmth, his eyes fluttering closed as you clenched around him. You would never tire of watching him feel good, no matter the form. He wore every emotion like an old cardigan that swallowed him whole. He brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek as he bottomed out, your hands roaming his chest and tangling into his precious curls.

“Let me love you.” Your heart just about broke. He was nearly pleading with you.

“Forever,” you replied, pulling him to your lips. Your bodies rocked as one, breathy moans and sighs bouncing off of the ceiling back to your ears to make you shiver. You felt foolish for ever doubting him. His mouth abused your neck, setting your bones ablaze with pleasure.

He quickly found himself becoming too excited, so he slowed and carefully pulled out. You watched him curiously, realization settling over you as he lowered his mouth to trail kisses down the valley between your breasts to your stomach and down between your legs. He eyed you as he circled your sensitive bud with his tongue, watching you moan out his name and lose your hands in your hair. You rocked your hips against his tongue. Always eager to give, Timothee reveled in every second of your pleasure until you were falling apart against his mouth and fingers.

Panting heavily, you pulled him back up to you and kissed him feverishly. His back was against the headboard as you sat in his lap, grinding your hips against his. Few words were spoken, but confessions slipped from you both as you held one another close. You reached between your bodies and slid him back into you. You both sighed in ecstasy. “You feel like… you were made just for me,” you breathed, beginning to lift yourself up and drop back down into his lap.

He cursed, watching your every movement with intensity. “I was.” You both got lost in each other, kissing and touching every inch within your reach.

“I’m close, amour,” he soon whined, head lolled back as he gazed up at you and his hands gripped your hips. You were both covered in a sheen of sweat, leaving his face glittering and breathtaking as always.

“Me too. So close,” you whimpered. You increased your pace, his hips rising to meet you now and hitting you just right. You tensed suddenly, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Timothee moaned against your collarbone, whispering sweet nothings and holding you close. He came soon after, spilling his love inside of you with stuttering thrusts. His hands slid across your spine as he trembled in the afterglow.

“I love you, my girl. Only you, forever,” he panted softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. A shy smile tugged on his lips, making you melt.

“Je t’aime, Timo.” You kissed his forehead, content to stay right there in his embrace forever.

[astranva]

Heather.

Word Count: 2k

Category: Angst

Warning: Language? idk

Request: pls write an angst based on Heather by Conan gray i love ur writings sm

Summary: In which Harry is the Heather of his own story.

this won’t have a second part, let’s keep it sad 💀

thanks for requesting, anon! hope you like it and thank you sm🤍

// masterlist //

..

You were there for as long as Harry could remember, and that was so many years.

He was convinced that many scriptwriters and directors heard of your friendship’s story and that was how most rom-coms were made.

But the rom-coms had something that Harry was yet to have – the happy ending he kept wishing for.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Sure, you were a little oblivious but it was also a little unfair saying that was the only reason why Harry hadn’t gotten his happy ending because he knew that at the end of the day, it was him not making a move and admitting his feelings for you throughout all these years.

Harry remembered how for his 16th birthday, you had saved up to get him and yourself tickets to see Coldplay live.

He remembered how you cried as you hugged him after his X Factor audition as you all stood backstage.

He remembered how excited he was when he first introduced you to the rest of the boys when they were put in a band. Hell, you slept over with them at Robin’s for a couple of days.

He remembered how you flew out for the weekend when Zayn had left the band, knowing that Harry needed your presence.

He remembered how you were the first person he went to when he decided to make a debut solo record.

He remembered waking up to your singing in Jamaica, munching on honey toast as your face would light up the moment he came to view – “Good morning, H! I squeezed some fresh oranges for you.”

He also remembered how his face would heat up when he was just a kid whenever his family would mention that you and him were bound to end up together.

He remembered how his first heartbreak wasn’t from a relationship of his own, but it was when you got into one at 16. He hated it.

He remembered helping you with your dates, reacting to how you thought a new crush was, holding you as you cried.

Harry remembered how despite being in love with you since he was a teenager, he didn’t take a step towards having you more than a best friend.

And God, his journals were proof of that love; the love songs, all those ones about unrequited love, the short poems he wrote in the dead of the night.

He had cringed when he told you that he was seeing someone, only to have you become excited and genuinely happy for him.

If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

He was staying over at yours, a normal occurrence for when he was home. He could’ve as well just sold his house at that point.

“Have anything I can wear? This isn’t too comfortable.” He had asked you as the both of you lounged, watching a stand-up comedy.

“Yeah, just choose whatever you want.” You nonchalantly said, not caring if he went through your clothes – not like this was anything but normal for the both of you.

“Too lazy to move.” He mumbled, looking up at you from where he was; his head resting on your lap as you played with his hair.

The smile that came to your face was one Harry mirrored without knowing, staring at you as you continued to watch the show. “I’m not moving.” You stated.

He groaned, standing up, “Will you still play with my hair when I come back?”

At that, your eyes moved to him, “Yes, you baby.”

That was all the assurance he needed before he walked to your room and opened your wardrobe, going through your clothes without messing anything up; you liked your clothes neatly folded at all times.

Reaching one lilac sweater, Harry took it out before holding it over his upper body, finding that it would probably perfectly fit.

Taking off his own top and putting on yours, Harry’s breath instantly hitched in his throat, stomach tied up in knots.

It smelled like you.

It smelled like fresh vanilla detergent and the coconut scent he adored so much.

Running his hand slowly across his body, Harry turned to look at the mirror, eyes falling on the item that screamed your name louder than the beaded necklace you had made him months ago that decorated his neck – “Golden, because that’s what I think you are” you had said.

He gulped, fingertips grazing the material.

“Harry! You’re missing all the good bits!”

“Coming!” He shouted back, hoping you didn’t catch the crack in his voice.

After one final look, Harry had walked back to you, placing his head on your lap.

“Good choice.” You had commented softly.

“Yeah?” Harry almost whispered, “Feels comfortable. What material is that?”

“Just polyester,” you shrugged, “Hate how it looks better on you though.” You had joked, giving him a gentle tug to his hair.

Harry had giggled, closing his eyes as you scratched his scalp softly, “Thanks.”

After that day, it was like Harry claimed the sweater. He’d beeline to it the moment he stepped a foot in your house, frowning at you on some days when you told him that it was getting washed.

Days turned to weeks, and before Harry could do as much as blink, you were back from your work with a smile brighter than usual.

He was sitting on your couch that day, in the lilac sweater, a smile drawn to his face as soon as his saw yours, pausing the music that was playing from his laptop. “You look happy.”

And you were, because you had given his cheek a soundly smooch of greeting, unaware of Harry’s cheeks reddening.

You hummed with a nod, “I have a date tonight with, quite possibly, the cutest person I have ever met.”

He wasn’t expecting that.

Harry was not expecting that.

His smile faltered, only staring at you.

“They’re just,” you sighed, staring at the ceiling with a hand to your heart, “A dream, you know? Hey, wait! You know them!”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” you nodded eagerly, “Chelsea introduced them when we went to that pub 2 weeks ago, remember? Charlie?”

“Oh.”

And he did. He remembered how pretty Charlie was, how they seemed to keep conversations going and made sure everyone was listened to, how Charlie’s style stood out in the pub, how their jokes made everyone laugh – including him. He remembered how Charlie’s eyes lingered on you when you talked, how the both of you seemed dived into a conversation of common interests. He hated it.

Charlie really was a dream. Yeah, he hated that, too.

Harry had helped you decide on an outfit, his chest feeling as if it clenched around his heart to a point where his cage would combust.

He helped you with your hair, spraying the back of it for you because you had always complained about not reaching that part well.

Fuck, he even painted your nails that night – they were in lilac.

And he was there when Charlie picked you up, a genuine smile on their face that looked nothing like the petty one he wore.

“Do you need us to bring you anything, mate? We’re having Italian.” Charlie had offered.

Why did Charlie have to be kind and polite? What happened to the assholes they portrayed in rom-coms?

“No, thanks, Y/N made me lasagna earlier.” Harry had chuckled, watching you smile at the interaction.

“Go to sleep by 9, Mr.” You had joked as you left, Charlie’s hand on your back.

“You know it.” Harry had mumbled with a weak smile, giving you a nod.

By 7, Harry was almost sure he yanked all his hair out, despite the mirrors assuring him that he didn’t.

By 8, he tried to eat, but the nauseous feeling that ran through his body at the thought of you with someone else made him put the casserole back in the fridge.

By 9, Harry had called Mitch to break the news of your newest date, only to hang up so soon when Mitch was beginning to tell him how he still might have a chance.

By 10, he wrote a song. One full song.

By 11, he had the tune for it.

By 12, Harry watched you kiss someone who wasn’t him and he had no one to blame.

“How was it?” He managed to utter, watching you stand against the door with the widest smile.

“Perfect.”

That was the beginning of everything but what Harry wished upon a constellation for, because by the second month of you seeing Charlie, you had made it official.

Charlie was perfect in all aspects; hell, even Gemma liked them when she met them as the 4 of you had brunch one day.

But then Charlie was around your house more that Harry just wasn’t that comfortable to sleep over anymore.

He remembered how the three of you were watching a movie one night, Charlie having been wanting to get to know Harry more since he was “someone Y/N talks about and loves so much” – Charlie said that with no drop of pettiness, Harry wondered how they did it – when Harry just couldn’t take any more of you cuddling someone who wasn’t him and before you and Charlie could process it, Harry was out with an empty excuse – “I forgot my guitar at Mitch’s.”

His guitar was resting against the very couch he was sitting on.

But nothing prepared him for that one moment.

Charlie had invited him for the barbecue party they were hosting and if it weren’t for your puppy eyes, Harry would’ve been sulking in the comfort of his house and not in his car while he was on the way to oh-so-perfect Charlie’s.

He heard Lizzo playing the moment he got out of his car, and it was how he knew that it was your playlist playing.

He had brought cake with him, walking cautiously with the boxed dessert in his hands.

The door was opened, a few smiling people passing by him before he was met with yours, only as always, your face lit up once you saw him.

“You’re here!” You didn’t care that he was holding anything in his hands that restrained him from hugging you back because you threw your arms around him, leaving a kiss to his cheek, “Everyone’s been asking for you. Something about how it was weird seeing me without you.” You giggled.

“Partners in crime, eh?” He smiled at you, referring to the phrase you have been using with one another since school.

“You bet,” you wiggled your eyebrows, “Oh, shoot, sorry, didn’t notice you had this. Um, come, let’s put it in the kitchen.”

You were comfortable in Charlie’s house, Harry noticed. It was no surprise; he would’ve been more worried if you weren’t seen as you had been together for 6 months.

Placing the cake in the fridge, you and Harry then walked to where everyone was.

And that was when he saw it.

Charlie lied on a lounge chair, laughing and looking all attractive, in the very lilac, polyester sweater Harry had found comfort in.

He watched as you walked over, Charlie instantly putting a hand to your waist as they smiled up at you before you leaned down, pressing your lips against one another.

“Act natural, would you?” He heard Chelsea’s, a mutual friend, voice beside him.

“What?”

“If you can’t be happy for Y/N, try to act natural around them,” Chelsea sighed, her heart breaking for her friend as she looked at Harry who was yet to move his eyes from the couple, “Charlie’s great, you know?”

“Yeah,” he gave her a dry chuckle, “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why aren’t you happy that at least they’re not an asshole?”

“Just,” Harry looked at his friend, a defeated look on his face before the sound of you squealing gleefully grabbed his attention, watching as Charlie had their arms wrapped around you from behind, the both of you laughing as your friends all smiled in awe, “Just wish I were Charlie.”

[moonbeamwritings]

hold my drink?

Summary: You’re at some mafioso party with Mista, Giorno, and Trish when Trish drags you off to the bathroom. You leave your drink with Mista and he’s all too pleased to be able to protect it for you.

Author’s Note: Slight tw?? There’s nothing explicit, save for a few swear words, throughout this fic, but if the implication of someone trying to mess with a drink makes you uncomfortable, then definitely consider skipping this one!

Mista liked partying, just not this kind of party. He found himself lingering in the doorway to some stuffy sitting room, everyone sitting around, smoking cigars as some outdated Italian pop played over the speakers.

It was a work party, as Giorno had so lovingly called it, a way to gain the trust of his new syndicate. It made Mista roll his eyes. Sure, there was dancing, but nobody really wanted to see some 40-something year old mafioso dance with someone who definitely wasn’t his wife, right? Mista certainly didn’t.

As he scanned the room, his eyes finally landed on you. You’d moved across the room with Giorno so he could introduce you to someone and now, it seemed, you were locked in a conversation that was less than thrilling, if the expression on your face was anything to go by.

Trish appeared in the doorway next to him, “Having fun?”

“No.”

A glass of deep red wine appeared in his vision.

“For your troubles,” Trish spoke, “maybe you’ll be able to have fun now.”

Mista sighed happily, taking the glass from her hand to take a greedy sip, “You’re a lifesaver.”

“You flatter me.”

His eyes returned to you as he started up a conversation with Trish. He couldn’t help it, you just looked so beautiful and he had barely even been able to talk to you. Your face glowed with the warmth of the room, an easy smile on your face as you gingerly held your champagne glass. He really had it bad, it was almost embarrassing.

“Uh, Mista. Hello?” Trish began snapping her fingers in front of his face, trying to reign in the lovesick gunman, “You’re not even listening to me.”

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly, turning his body to focus on Trish, “what were you saying?”

Trish just kept going, “You’re so into them it’s almost hard to watch.”

“Don’t start,” Mista warned, take another swig of his wine, “I don’t even wanna hear it.”

“Do you even realize what you just looked like?” Trish started to laugh as she did her best to imitate the look on Mista’s face, slightly parting her lips and fluttering her eyelashes.

Mista felt heat creep up his neck and onto his face and ears, “Trish.”

“You’re whining cause you know I’m right.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Nope.”

“Yup.”

“No.”

“Oh, look who it is,” Trish spoke, glancing over Mista’s shoulder as you came over to see them.

“Hey guys,” you greeted looking between your two friends, “Trish, it’s your turn to talk to people.”

“Nooo. You’re kidding?”

A solemn look crossed your face, “I wish. Giorno wanted you to talk to someone.”

She sauntered off, grumbling about gross, boring men as you took her place on the other side of Mista. 

“You look miserable,” you pointed out, chuckling, “was it something I said?”

“No,” Mista rushed to answer, waving his hands wildly, “of course not. I’m glad you’re here, uh well-”

All you could do was laugh, reaching a hand out to steady one of his, “Mista, I’m just teasing.”

He forced out a laugh as he tried not to think about the warmth of your hand on his, “Oh, right.”

You fell into a comfortable conversation with him, feeling much more relaxed than you had been with the group you were just with. There was just something about Mista that was so… safe, if that was even the right word. He was always so friendly, so excitable that he often had a special way of making you feel at ease.

After a few moments, however, Trish interrupted you both as she grabbed at your elbow to force you to go to the bathroom with her.

“Will you hold my drink?” You asked Mista before being whisked away. 

He nodded eagerly, offering you a sweet smile, “Of course!” He watched as you weaved through the crowd before disappearing. 

Mista rocked his weight from foot to foot, trying to decide what to do with himself until you got back. He really didn’t want to get dragged into some unwanted conversation and he also didn’t want to move a muscle for risk of not being able to find you afterwards.

So, he stood in the same spot, focusing on the music coming through the speakers and paying close attention to your glass in his hand.

His few minutes of bliss were interrupted by a guy appearing in front of him.

“Hey man,” he started, squaring his shoulders and holding out a hand, “I’ll take that.”

When Mista was too confused to respond, the stranger continued, “The champagne. They told me to come get it from you.”

Mista’s eyebrows furrowed. Who the fuck was is this guy, he thought angrily. He’d never seen him before and he was almost certain you’d never met him either. The whole situation was bizarre. He’d heard you and Trish talk about this exact thing at other parties before, but he could hardly believe that it actually happened.

“Uh, yeah I don’t think so,” Mista responded with a scoff, “Why don’t you go bother someone else?”

The man had the audacity to look offended, further emphasizing that you had asked him to come retrieve your drink from Mista. It made Mista’s blood boil. He found himself to be a relatively protective guy, but this situation really made him want to pull out the Pistols and go to town on this asshole.

He shifted just slightly, subtly keeping your drink just out of reach, “Don’t make me tell you again, dude.”

At the same time, he saw you come back through the crowd, waving Trish off as she returned to Giorno’s side.

You smiled at Mista before taking your drink from him, “Who’s this?”

All Mista could do was smirk, all too pleased that this man’s attempt to screw with your drink failed so miserably, “Dunno. He seemed to know you though, right bud?”

The stranger quickly excused himself, rushing through to another room. Good riddance, Mista thought.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, turning your eyes away from the fleeing man to look at Mista.

“He tried to tell me that you asked him to take your drink from me,” Mista answered honestly, “I told him to fuck off.”

You felt your heart drop as you shuddered, the worst case scenario playing through your head, “God, Mista, thank you. That’s really scary.”

His face softened at your words and reaching out to touch your arm he replied, “Don’t thank me. I’ll always be here to protect you, ya know.”

You placed your hand over his, “You better be.”

[chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky]

“I never thought I’d see a Crusader Priest in a hoodie.”

Nile says it innocently, not thinking anything of it. If anything, she was trying to lighten the tension in the car, the five of them stuck in the back of a van, their hands tied. It annoyed her how easy it was to restrain them once someone got the jump on them. She would assume that immortals would be imbued with super strength, but she feels as mortal as she ever did. Booker was right, as usual. Just because they can’t die, doesn’t mean they can’t hurt.

Except as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she feels like she wants to take them back. Nicky sits across from her, tied to the side of the car as far away from Joe as the captors could get them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the two of them together were far more dangerous than separate. She’s watched the move together like water, all encompassing and forever together. He stills, his hands in front of his chest, head bowed. In prayer, she doesn’t think so, but if she didn’t know he was over a thousand years old, she would figure he was.

Glancing in the van, she looks for someone to explain what she could’ve said that was so wrong. Nile can’t help it, her eyes go to Joe, who hasn’t looked away from him.

It’s like staring at the sun, watching Joe gaze at Nicky. Blinding, beautiful, painful, and intense. It feels all encompassing and private, as though the moment becomes a physical presence around her. “It is a reminder.” Nicky says softly from his corner of the van. “I think it is important to remember your mistakes.”

“You know how I feel about—” Joe starts.

“Yes, you have mentioned before.” Nicky looks up, his icy eyes attempting something light, but even Nile can tell it’s nothing more than a blanket covering something dark.

“I think I can say the speech by heart.” Booker offers offhandedly, Joe glaring in response. “I’m just saying you two aren’t as private as some people would encourage.”

“You would think that after two hundred years, you’d be used to it by now.” Andy says, her voice only mildly irritated in that way that Nile has come to learn as annoyance with having to get out of chains. She wonders absently if she’ll ever get simply annoyed with capture. Where the fear filters out and it’s merely inconvenient.

“No, I still think we need to start investing in safe houses with insulation and separate rooms.”

“You know that everyone would sleep in the same room regardless.” Andy snorts, getting even a laughless breath out of Nicky. Andy relaxes at that, Nile slightly jealous at how she can read them. The woman is also focused on Nicky, whose hands are wringing together ever-so-slightly. Joe watches the movement.

Finally, Nicky looks up to Nile, his eyes warm. “There are certain things that stay with you, no matter how much you want to forget. You would think over time, they would melt away, like the rain on a window. But… others do not.”

Nile can feel Joe’s frustration to being tied up from across the van, his legs stretched out and nowhere near Nicky. He makes a huff, which Nicky merely snorts at. The two look at each other and she’s certain there’s a conversation happening she’ll never be privy. That is, until Nicky speaks.

“It was the first time I decided it was not God’s will to do what we were sent to do.”

***

The battlefield is ripe with the stench of death. Nicolo swallows, looking at the lives around him. His shirt is stained with blood of the lives he’s taken, and with a bit of his own. He’s understood that God has given him a gift to reanimate – despite his terrifying first few deaths, Nicolo understood his purpose. He wasn’t meant to die, until his finished God’s vision of the world.

There’s a shout from behind him and Nicolo flinches, reacting in a violent swing that would make the most vicious of warriors flinch. Before he can even register what is happening, a figure falls at his feet, eyes wide and noises coming from his mouth that Nicolo knew would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Nicolo startles.

He’s seen this man before.

Except there’s no way that could be possible.

This man has died in his hands. From his hands. Even though Nicolo didn’t like to admit it, he also had been on the receiving end of the man’s sword.

Except, this time is different.

Nicolo drops his broadsword and places a hand on his cheek as the figure collapses. He has the sort of curls that easily twine around his fingers, and eyes that seem to carry Universes. Universes that makes Nicolo think of the lessons that God has tried to teach him, but he could never find the answer. The man before him, blood staining his teeth and dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man he’s seen many times.

Nicolo utters a quicker prayer, dropping to his knees. This is not like what they have taught him. The man before him is the sun and is light and Nicolo draws closer. “I am sorry.” He finds himself saying in a shaky voice, even though he knows the man won’t understand.

Except.

Something incredible happens. The pulsing of his heartbeat grows stronger under Nicolo’s touch, the faint rhythm making his breath hitch. He looks down at the man’s shirt, still stained with blood, but no longer spreading. Nicolo jerks his hand away, shocked. He knows he shouldn’t be – he’s seen his body heal in the mirrors he found in camp, but… this was supposed to be God’s will.

He was taught to hate the man before him, and yet, here he heals.

“Praise God,” Nicolo mutters because he doesn’t know what else to say.

The man grips Nicolo’s hand, the blood stain in it smearing against he own. He slowly catches his breath and mutters under his breath, a language that Nicolo knows not, but sounds like poetry and music. He wonders if the man ever gets tired of speaking because he isn’t sure he’d ever tire of hearing his voice.

“Nicolo, what are you doing?”

He startles at his name, Nicolo standing up to see a few other priests standing before him. Like carbon prints of each other, thoughts and opinions copied until he isn’t sure if they kept their humanity any longer.

For the first time, he sees.

He sees like he hasn’t before.

In that moment, Nicolo reaches truth.

He swung his sword in a violent motion, thinking anything different as a threat. Except, the man desperately trying to get to his feet behind him, was not threatening. He held on Nicolo’s hand as if he was trying to teach him something. Something he knew Nicolo needed to learn.

Instead, Nicolo killed him.

He was not a human, not a priest, he was a feral animal unleashed unto the world under the guise of destiny. Perhaps…

Perhaps destiny had answers humans couldn’t understand.

“What are you waiting for?” They ask.

The world is quiet to him. Even though he hears the screaming around him, the fight and the lives lost, Nicolo hears nothing but the wind. He listens for God, for destiny, for whoever to tell him that he was wrong.

The man behind him says something, the words washing over him. He may not understand the words, but he understands the feeling.

Destiny.

“I was waiting for a sign from God.” Nicolo finds himself says. He takes his sword in front of him, spreading his legs in the attack stance he was taught too many years ago. “And this is not what God wants.”

The confusion on their faces is only for a second. They twist in something inhuman, in something that he was taught to fear. But, Nicolo was not afraid.

Before they can reach him, Nicolo lets out a gasp. Looking down at his chest, he sees a curved sword impaled through his chest. “My god,” Nicolo mutters.

“They will torture you.” The man whispers in his ear in a broken Italian. Desperate. “They will call you… demon. You can’t let them. We need… time.”

Nicolo feels his breath on his neck, a shiver running down his spine. “I will find you.” He mutters, his words catching as he sees black spots curling around his eyes. “I-I—”

“I am counting on it.” The man says. “And I you… Nicolo.”

Nicolo lets out a choke of a laugh. “Not fair, you know me.”

The man takes the blade out of his chest in a quick movement. Nicolo falls to his knees as he does so. He has fallen to his knees so many times. Except, this time, he feels free. Even as he can feel his body fight against the wound, the skin stitching back together like the chainmail wrapped around his head, he’s never felt more alive.

The man stands over him, a bright smile on his face, his own wounds nothing more than a ripped shirt. He blocks the sun, but then again, maybe he is the sun. “Yusuf.” He states, placing his hand over his chest. “Until we find each other.”

“Until…” Nicky chokes on the blood pooling in his mouth. “Until we find…”

He can’t say anything further. Instead, he’s lost in the sun and the world and the Universe. There’s nothing in the world that’s made him feel like this. He staring at a man he was taught to hate and he feels… infinite. He feels as if he’s watching the sun rise after a cold night, the frost on the leaves dripping onto the ground. He feels like he’s heard a psalm for the first time, understand God in a way he’s never thought.

His mind goes blank.

The chainmail falls off his head, his body covered in metal. The chains were off. Nicolo was free.

***

“I spent my life in metal.” Nicky says. “I need to remember what I learned.”

“Plus, watching a man walk around in chainmail isn’t exactly discreet.” Booker offers. “But I’m in full agreement that you should do that.”

“Fuck off, Booker.” Andy snorts under her breath, but she’s still searching between Joe and Nicky.

“But, why?” Nile asks, unable to stop herself. “Why would you want to remember all of that?”

Nicky sucks in a breath, his eyes meeting Joe’s. It’s soft and powerful and unyielding. He doesn’t even tear away to answer Nile, his attention forever Joe’s. “To remember that you can try to do what you think is right, but you can be wrong. That mistakes you make can be transformed into something beautiful. By… someone beautiful.”

The moment is fraught, tense, and intimate.

“My god, I need alcohol if you two are going to be like that.”

Joe and Nicky snap out of whatever gaze they’ve lost each other in, both laughing at themselves. “Book’s right,” Andy says, relaxing ever-so-slightly when Nicky smiles, the haunt behind his eyes fading slightly. “Let’s use that energy to figure out how get out.”

“Oh, you haven’t?” Joe asked, bringing his hands up. Nile’s startled to see that there’s no zip ties on them, his wrists not even pink with the pressure anymore. “I just couldn’t wait.”

He crosses the back of the car with a couple strides, placing his hand on the back of Nicky’s neck and pulling him close. The car rattles and bumps, Nile staring that the two, very aware of the handcuffs on her wrist.

“Yeah,” Booker sighs, rolling his eyes at her. “That’s the most pressing thing at the moment.”

There’s no heat in it and she finds herself joining him in her fond exasperation.

It lasts another ten seconds before Andy seems fed up with the whole scenario and kicks the two of them. Another thirty until they’re all free.

A final sixty for the five of them to job out of the car, the bindings nothing more than a memory.

And the memories fade, as insignificant memories do.

Nile hangs back with Booker and Andy, Joe and Nicky in a world the three will never be invited. As the moon shimmers against their shoulders, she thinks she may be alright with that.

[ravennm84]

Lyre Festival Fraud

This was another prompt that I found and just ran with it. The prompt itself was based on the Fyre Festival Disaster that happened in 2017 where 5,000 people were scammed out of thousands of dollars per ticket for what was supposed to be a luxury music festival. I didn’t take the story to quite that scale since most middle schoolers don’t have that kind of cash. There will be a sequel to this coming out soon. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Over the past few weeks since Marinette had come back to class, she couldn’t help but notice that Lila seemed to be up to something new. For one, the Italian girl hadn’t been bothering her as much as before. There was still the occasional quip and barb thrown in her direction, but nothing compared to what she had been doing before. She wanted to write it off to the deal Adrien had made with the girl, the blonde had confessed the truth to her after the photoshoot and promised her that he would never let things get that out of hand ever again. But something just didn’t seem right.

Lila was sticking to a single story about a party that she was planning on an island south of Venice over the long weekend next month. She was going on and on about it being a private island, with beautiful scenery and a rich history. Her mother was setting it up for a bunch of politicians, and all of the celebrities Lila knew were coming. A five-star chef would be there to make everyone the most amazing food. Many of the musicians she knew were planning to do jam-sessions, so there would be live music. The way she described it, it was going to be the biggest private event that Lila had ever been involved with.

Marinette and Adrien kept keen ears pointed in her direction, more than they normally would. Something about this particular story seemed different from her usual lies. It didn’t sit well with either of them

They could admit, the Italian was smoother with this lie than she was with any other she had spouted since joining their class. She had started mentioning the party a little here and there, then the different celebrities, then the hotel and bringing in the chef. How expensive it all was and how her mother was planning everything. Then, the following week, Lila dropped a bomb that had almost the entire class squealing and scrambling.

“You won’t believe it! Mama said that I could invite all my friends to come to the party so I’ll have more people my age to talk to!” Lila gushed as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Seriously! That’s awesome, girl!” Alya cheered excitedly.

“But I have to be up front with all of you about something, and I want you to know that if I had my way I would never ask, but my mom insisted.” Lila’s expression quickly turned uncertain as she looked around at her ‘friends’ before taking a breath and continuing. “Whoever wants to come, has to take care of their own travel and pay €300 up front for the food and accommodations. I really wish I didn’t have to say that, but there was nothing I could do to change her mind.”

“That’s completely understandable, dudette.” Nino grinned as she slung his arm around Alya’s shoulders. “But still, for two nights in a swanky hotel and all our meals handled, that’s a total steal. When would you need the money?”

Lila’s face lit up again saying that she would need the money at least a week before the party so her mother could book enough rooms and make sure there would be enough food. Mylene asked if they needed their parents to escort them, and Lila promised to get them the needed forms to travel. She also asked Alya not to post anything about this on her blog, as this was supposed to be a private thing with a lot of big-name people and they couldn’t risk word getting out. The journalist readily agreed but made Lila promise that she would be allowed to post pictures after the weekend was over, which Lila readily agreed.

Marinette and Adrien looked on with worry as their classmates began making plans for the weekend in a few weeks. After class let out for the day, Adrien convinced his body guard that he needed to study with Marinette for an upcoming test. Since the man liked the girl, her parents, and had a soft spot for their bakery’s salted caramel scones; he allowed it. Up in her room, the two teens set their homework aside and jumped on Marinette’s computer to see what was going on with the Italian. 

“What do you think she’s up to?” Adrien asked her.

“Not sure, but it’s strange that she kept saying how I shouldn’t ask for money when I do commissions, then turns around and asks for €300 per person.” She says, looking up private islands near Venice. “I mean, she has to know that she can’t just ask for money from everyone and then not follow through since she would have to give all of their money back.”

“Agreed, she could try and say that the money was non-refundable, but I don’t think they would accept that.”

She hummed in agreement before pulling up a map. “The only private island I can find close by is Isola Santa Christina, but that’s North-East of Venice, not South. And I checked the availability for that weekend, and it’s not reserved. The only island South of Venice that could be considered ‘private’ is Poveglia.”

The blonde’s brow shot up when he heard the name. “Isn’t that the haunted island that’s been closed off to tourists for a long time?”

“Since the 1960s, when the mental asylum closed.” She nodded, as she continued to read. “And before that, it was where they sent people dying of plague and other diseases to die and be buried. It says right here, there’s over 160,000 people buried there in ‘plague pits’ and it’s nearly impossible to walk five meters without walking over someone’s remains.”

Adrien’s lip curled in disgust as he read the information and history of the island over the French-Asian girl’s shoulder. “Well, she did say that the island was private, historic and had a view. And the island does have a lot of history and it’s private.”

“And there was a plan to turn the old asylum into a luxury hotel a few years back, but that fell through.”

They continued reading the different articles on different islands around Venice, but none of them seemed to fit. Adrien agreed that Lila wouldn’t be so sloppy with her lies to invite everyone to a weekend party and then have to give everyone their money back… but what if she never had to see anyone again?

“Do you mind if I look something up really quick?”

“Did you think of something?” She asked while standing from her desk chair so he could take a look.

“It’s just a hunch,” he muttered, his fingers quickly typing at the keys. “I think you’re right, Lila wouldn’t ask for money if she was just going to have to turn around and give it back, even if she used the ‘deposit’ excuse to keep part of it for herself. That can only mean that something else is going on.”

It took a few minutes, but he found what he was looking for on the Italian Embassy’s website and twitter page. Different people wishing Ambassador Rossi a fond goodbye before she transfers back to Italy before the holiday weekend. “She’s not coming back,” he said between gritted teeth while Marinette looked over his shoulder.

“I want to say that I can’t believe Lila would do something like this, but she purposely got me expelled, almost got me akumatized, and almost caused another Scarlet Moth incident. Stealing from people she won’t see again is well within the boundaries of what she can do.”

Adrien turned the chair to look Marinette in the eyes. “What should we do? We tried the high road, that was a mistake and I’m still kicking myself for saying that, but we can’t just sit back and let all of them get scammed for €300.”

“It will be more than that,” worry evident in her voice. “It will be the €300, whatever they have to spend on their tickets there and back, and whatever money they’ll spend on someplace to stay while they’re there, if they stay in Venice.”

“We have to try,” Adrien said, just as determined when he forced Lila to lie to get Marinette back into school. “Maybe if we talk to everyone, one person at a time and explain what we found, we might be able to convince them to look into things a little deeper and figure it out themselves.”

Marinette hesitated. “They didn’t believe me before, why would they believe me now?”

“Because I’ll be with you every step of the way to show them that it’s not just you, I promise.”

~oOo~

Adrien kept his promise, he stayed with Marinette as they pulled their classmates aside to show them what they found. Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose and Chloe seemed to really listen to them and agreed that it seemed a little too good to be true. The others were more hesitant to listen and turned their questions to Lila, who was quick to spin her lies about the comments on Twitter being taken out of context, that her mother’s coworkers were only saying goodbye for the weekend. Then she turned on the fake tears and accused them of spreading rumors and lies when she was just trying to do something nice for her friends. That resulted in the majority of the class shunning Marinette and Adrien for the weeks leading up to the holiday. 

Nearly the entire class gave Lila €300 each before the deadline she had set. Adrien and Marinette had been ‘uninvited’ to the party; Chloe scoffed and said that she wasn’t about to waste her time with a bunch of people she didn’t even like; and Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose all claimed that they couldn’t afford it. Lila was leaving school a couple days before the weekend to “help her mom prepare for the party” but gave everyone instructions on which dock to meet at for the boat to pick them up and ferry them to the island. 

Friday morning, the two of them tried again, practically pleading with their friends not to go, that it had all been a scam. This was met with a lot of harsh words, insults, and Alya declaring that she could no longer be friends with someone as vindictive and jealous as Marinette. That left the girl in tears, but the four that stayed behind were quick to comfort her and took her back to her house after school for a movie night. After the others left, Marinette sent a quick email, hoping for a positive response.

The movie night was followed by a jam-session on Saturday at Juleka and Luka’s place. It was a blast to have Adrien on the keyboard with Kitty Section again, it was a little difficult without a drummer but it was still fun. When Marinette got home, she was relieved to see a response to her email waiting for her and read it before she went to bed.

They had a picnic in the park on Sunday, along with Marc, where Adrien was having a photoshoot so he could sit and eat with them during his breaks. The photographer liked the natural energy and look of the group so much that he took multiple pictures of the three couples, as Vincent put it. There was another email waiting for her when she got home, she read that one twice and rewrote her response three times before sending it.

On Monday, the six of them hung out at the bakery with Tom showing Marinette’s friends how to make the perfect croissant and the best way to pipe frosting onto cupcakes. They had a blast and ended up having a frosting fight at one point, which ended with a large round of giggles and Adrien striking a victory pose since he had gotten hit with the least amount of frosting. Everyone had a great time and went home with the goodies they’d made. The final response in Marinette’s email put a smile on her face, knowing that she had done the right thing.

~oOo~

Tuesday morning and the five of them weren’t sure what to expect. They had decided to go with a united front and met at the Dupain-Cheng bakery so they would go to school together. Sabine gladly handed all of them fresh pastries before they left and wished them luck. Marinette’s parents had been made aware of Lila’s deceit and how she had likely scammed their classmates out of a lot of money. Hearing this, the two bakers had been making multiple calls to the Board of Governors about their daughter’s expulsion and other incidents that Adrien had brought up that had to do with Lila. From what they had heard, it was likely that their school, M. Damocles, and Mme. Bustier would be under heavy scrutiny very soon.

Entering the classroom, none of them were prepared for the dead silence from the rest of the class. Everyone looked to be experiencing different levels of confusion, anger, and absolute exhaustion. Everyone except Chloe, who looked smug as she grinned at everyone in the room. When the five of them came in, her smile grew as she looked directly at Alya. “So, how was your weekend on that private island in Venice? Was it as fabulous as Lie~la said it would be?”

Mylene, Sabrina, and Kim all started crying; Nino ducked his head to hide behind his hat, Max's head dropped to the desk with a thunk, and Alya’s fists clenched so hard that her nails cut into her palms. But it was Alex that had the most colorful reaction as she slammed her hands on the table and practically screamed.

“Shut up, you blonde shrew! Grrr! I swear, if I ever see that liar again, I will hit her over her head with my skates until she apologizes.” Her eyes turned to Marinette and Adrien, still angry but with a bit of self-loathing. “You were right. We all waited on that dock all day until the police came and took us to the station. We had to spend the night in the police station and wait for our parents to come get us. Alya tried to argue that it was just a private party and even pointed out the island that bitch said it would be on. But no~, that island was closed to the public and has been for 50 years!”

“We tried to tell you,” Adrien said hesitantly when Alix stopped ranting to breathe.

“Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents so mad,” Nino said, barely lifting his head to look at his friend. “They’re talking to a lawyer about what they can do, but the law dude said that the most they can do is file charges against Lila for the scam and that none of use are likely to get any of the money back.”

“My parents grounded me until the lawsuit is settled or I pay back all the money they spent on coming to get me,” Ivan told them, his large shoulders drooping almost half-way down his back.

“By my calculations, that is unlikely to happen,” Max said, not even bothering to lift his face from his desk. “When taking into account the amount of money that she took from each of us, that she had us go to Venice of our own accord, the fact that her mother is an ambassador and therefore bestowed Lila with diplomatic immunity for her actions; there is not much the law can do.”

Unable to help herself, Marinette turned to look at Adrien as a small smile graced her lips. Adrien gave her a bigger smile that confused everyone, even Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka. “You should tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Alya asked, not sure if she could deal with any more surprises for the rest of the school year.

“Well, after Adrien and I figured out what Lila was up to, we recorded one of the times she bragged about the trip and how much money she was getting from you. I emailed the video, your names, the dock where she told you to go, and all the other information to Ambassador Rossi on Friday night to let her know what was going on.” 

All of their jaws dropped as Marinette continued to speak. “I don’t think she believed me at first; but then she got a report about a bunch of unaccompanied minors from her daughter’s school being detained in Venice and that she had apparently allowed them into the country. She was shocked and confused that any of you got through customs without an adult, but then Ambassador Rossi noticed a stack of documents were missing and figured Lila must have taken them and forged her signature to make the scam more believable. I talked to her again last night; she’s forcing Lila to plead guilty to fraud and forgery, any charges that the Italian government was going to file against you are being dropped, and she's clearing out Lila’s savings to pay the money back to your parents.”

Now the entire class was crying tears of joy and relief. They knew that they’d messed up when it came to Marinette and Adrien, Alya especially towards her best friend. But they were more than willing to work their butts off to make it right, no matter how rough the road ahead of them might be. 

[llnewobsessionll]

New Territory (Aro Volturi x human!reader)

A/n: Thanks for the ask! I had lots of fun writing this, hope you enjoy it!

Description: Y/n goes with Alice and Bella to Volterra to save Edward, in Volterra y/n meets Aro, her mate, due to past trauma y/n has difficulty and ends up running away. Y/n ends up in trouble and Aro saves the day.

Warning: Descriptions of anxiety, ptsd, assault and violence. (Anxiety and ptsd are both mental disorders that affect different people differently, I wrote them as how I experience and handle it, however this does vary from person to person.)

Word count: 3379

The fact that I had left Forks without even an hour’s notice was finally starting to get to me and panic started to sink in, I knew I was allowed, to I am an adult after all, but a trip to Italy from Washington on such short notice would surely be jarring for anyone. But, it had to be done, after all, Bella’s boyfriend was trying to commit suicide. This is also the same boyfriend who happens to be a vampire, all these changes were certainly starting to take effect.

Bella had run ahead to try to stop Edward because apparently, she was the only person Edward wouldn’t see coming, whatever that meant. Alice and I were coming up to the giant clocktower that Edward was apparently in, although moving through the crowds of the St. Marcus Day festival was getting increasingly difficult.

Alice made it to the tower ahead of me and snapped the lock on the inside of the doors that held the doors together… vampires were certainly gonna take some getting used to. She ushered me inside and for a second I was blinded from coming from the bright afternoon light to the very dim interior of the clocktower, around me I could hear the distant conversation but I was too confused by the change in scenery to pay attention to what was happening. When my eyesight finally did return to normal I saw Bella, Edward, and Alice together standing across from two men, two vampires, one of which I think is the tallest person I have ever seen in my life. Behind them, my eyes were drawn to a young girl, or I guess vampire, coming up to us.

“Enough,” she said, her voice powerful, obviously the one holding the cards in the conversation, she drew back her hood and my eye took in her bright red eyes, that’s strange, none of the Cullens have red eyes but she does and so does her two companions that I think about it.

Edward ducked his head in greeting and supplied her name, “Jane” I couldn’t tell if it was a greeting or for the benefit of Bella and me, or just Bella because I doubt he cares about me that much.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” was her only reply.

I don’t know why but the name Aro, or at least I assume the name, made a strange feeling run through me. The feeling confused me and yet intrigued me at the same time, it didn’t feel bad, it was most certainly pleasant. Edward started walking forward with Bella’s hand in his guiding her. Alice followed and grabbed my hand as the two men followed behind us we walked all the way to the elevator, the two men, whose names I have yet to find out followed behind me. I really did not like people walking behind me, especially if I did not know them and their presence behind me caused me to tense up more than I was before and I started to panic. Alice must have noticed my reaction and gently guided me in front of her so I was now behind Bella, this still wasn’t ideal, but it was a hella ov a lot better than just that two strange men behind me.  

We followed the petite blonde girl until we reached an elevator and the small glance at it from between Bella and Edward made me think that we would have to take two trips to get us all to where we were going. I was soon proved wrong when we all packed ourselves inside with zero personal space.

Being so close to so many people, most of which I did not know at all or very well with the exit closed off was not an exciting experience to me and if we had been in there much longer I would hate to think of how I would’ve reacted. The weird opera music only made me more nervous and put me more on edge.

Getting out I once again followed behind Bella and Edward, we walked past a human secretary who greeted us in Italian. Bella leaned closer to Edward to signify she wanted to have a private conversation, why she would try when we were surrounded by vampires of all things baffled me. However, I was so close behind them, even I, with my human hearing, could make out their conversation.

“Is she human?” Bella asked

“Yes” came Edward’s response

“Does she know?”

“Yes,” he once again replied, now I haven’t been around Edward too much but I can see he’s a man of very, very few words.

“Then why would…” Bella trailed off, “she wants to be.”

“And so she will be” came from behind, one of the guys had responded to Bella and Edward’s ‘private’ conversation.

“For dessert,” Jane finished off the sentence, her words made an uneasy feeling appear in my stomach. Not only was it nerve-wracking being around Vampires, but especially when they talked about killing people so casually.

Jane opened the doors that were in front of us and led us inside what looked like a chapel, it had similar architecture to worship temples, if a little grande, but I guess that was to be expected for Italy.

In front of us sat three thrones, and upon each of them sat a vampire, the one in the middle, he had black hair down to his shoulders, and the characteristically pale skin and red eyes, dressed in all black instantly had my attention. Something about him drew me in, I couldn’t place it but it was an instant attraction. Immediately both Edward and Alice were in front of me blocking my view of him and shielding me from his view.

Things were happening around us, conversation and movements, but I was still enraptured by the man, I was trying to look in between the gap that Alice and Edward had, but they kept making it harder and harder for me by moving and blocking my view.

I only came back to when Edward rushed forward, still at a human speed, towards where Jane stood. Jane muttered a word, I couldn’t make out what she said from where I was but Edward seemed to freeze in place and then dropped down to his knees. He looked to be in a great deal of pain and I swear I could see Edward’s vein nearly popping out of his skin from how tense he was.

Bella started to beg with Jane to stop and rushed forward as if to help Edward but a vampire that had been standing beside Jane flashed to her side and held her back. Whatever Jane was doing to Edward stopped when the attractive vampire called her name. She looked as if she woke up from a trance.

The attractive vampire turned to Jane, “go ahead my dear” I don’t know what he was talking about but Jane turned her attention to Bella. Bella seemed to tense and held her breath, waiting for something I would guess. However, nothing happened and tension between Jane and Bella rose. The tension was broken when the attractive male clapped his hands together and let out a maniac sounding laugh, “remarkable, she confounds us all. So what shall we do with you know?”

The man with the brown hair sitting behind the attractive guy piped up, “you already know what you’re going to do.” He sounded bored, but at least he finally provided a name for the attractive guy, Aro. For some reason, something as simple as his name had shivers of pleasure going down my back.

“She knows too much,” the blond one behind Aro added on, “she’s a liability.”

Now, I don’t know what exactly they were talking about, but I understood the situation enough that I knew that whatever the end result of it, it would most likely have Bella and me dead. The prospect of me having to witness Bella’s death sent me into a panic, and that may have caused slight irrationality, stepping out from behind Alice I finally spoke up, “there has to be something, what if they can promise that Bella will be turned? She’d no longer be considered a liability then.” As I spoke I looked directly at Aro, because from what I have seen so far, it was him that was making the decisions or at least the most active decision-maker.

Aro stepped forward, I had clearly intrigued him in some way, “oh and who are you, cara?”

It was at that moment, with everyone in the room looking at me, that my confidence escaped me and all I wanted to do was tuck tail and run to somewhere where I was alone. “Mm, my… name is y/n,” my voice didn’t come out as strong as I wanted it to and even I could hear the waver in my voice.

“Well cara, if Edward promised to turn Bella I do believe that that would solve the problem, although from what I have seen it seems as if he’s… hesitant” Aro seemed to slowly be inching closer to me, or that could have just been my paranoia talking.

“Bella will be one of us, I have seen, in one of my visions” Alice butted in, taking a step forward and slowly fingering her glove off, she took another step forward and placed her hand within Aro’s. The strangest of all is that Aro shut his eyes and looked as if he was concentrating, this confused me so I looked over to Bella and Edward in hopes that one of them would fill me in on my obvious obliviousness.

Seeing my confused face Bella thankfully informed me, “Aro can see every thought and memory you’ve ever had with one touch,” when she said this she did so quietly, almost like if she spoke too loud she would get scowled.

Well, I guess I’ll have to refrain from touching him then, eh?

Both Alice and Aro stepped back, turning to Bella he addressed her, “your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal, go now and make preparations,” he turned to me and reached out to grab my arm, I stepped out of his reach, trying to stop the contact.

“What about y/n, she has to come with us too!” Bella piped up after seeing both Edward and Alice trying to escort her out and leave me behind. Desperately I looked at her, hoping that she’ll take me with her. Even though I feel this strange attraction and connection to Aro I still felt safer with Bella, I was in unfamiliar territory with strangers, and the only thing grounding me was the sense of familiarity that I had with Bella.

“y/n? She’s staying here” Aro said with a sound of finality as he turned around and sat on his throne, completely laid back and absolutely unworried, which was the complete opposite from me as I was slowly starting to give in to my panic as I processed what was happening.

Thankfully it seemed as if Bella wasn’t gonna give up on me, who stood there uselessly by the way, “no! No, she’s coming back with us, you can't trap her here!”

Edward grabbed Bella’s arm and started half-heartedly tugging her out of the room, “Bella, come on, it’s no use.” I knew Edward didn’t like me all that much but to see him abandon me so fast definitely hurt.

Alice grabbed Bella’s other arm when she saw the younger girl still resisting, “Bella, calm down, we’ll explain it to you later, we can’t stop it.” At the very least Alice was doing a much better job at calming Bella down than Edward had, but to hear her be so definite about the outcome of the situation really didn’t help me at all.

Alice and Edward slowly started to escort Bella out of the room, I however still stood there looking at her desperately hoping that she’ll put up more of a fight for me. I knew if I tried to go with them one of the vampires would stop me before I finished taking a step, and there was no hope of fighting off a vampire or running off.

When the door finally shut behind Bella, Edward, and Alice I felt a sinking weight take place in my chest and could no longer stand. I sat down, desperately trying to hold back my panic. Almost immediately Aro was in front of me on one knee reaching for me, all I could manage to do was look up at him, no doubt teary eyed, “please don’t touch me, not yet,” he looked pained when I said that but nodded his head and lifted me into his arms bridal style, making sure that none of our skin make contact and that my pants and top were acting as a barrier between our skin.

It was less than ten seconds later than we stood in a different room, which looks to be a very expensive and immaculately kept bedroom. My face was still slightly buried in his shoulder from the run here.

He place me on the bed and stepped back, he look unsure of how to proceed next, almost nervous, I found it absolutely adorable and wholesome, and honestly a part of me wanted to ask him to stay, because no matter if I like it or not I felt some sense of comfort when I was close to him, but a bigger part of me needed the space in order to think and process all that happened and to calm down enough to think sensibly about the situation.

I couldn’t possibly look at him at the moment so I ended up looking at his shoes at the carpet that he was standing on, “I just need some… alone time, to y’know process everything” it came out as a quiet mumble, but I knew with his hearing he heard it anyway.

Nodding his head, he held his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, “certainly, I’ll come back later to check up on, if you need anything just call me and I’ll be right here,” he looked so delicate, long gone was the man from the throne room who was in charge and self-assured, no all that there was was a courteous, if slightly awkward gentleman.

He waited for my nod of confirmation before he left and suddenly I was alone in the room.

↼♔♔♔⇀

It was later that evening when the sun was almost completely down and several hours had passed and my confidence was back up that I decided to do something that could potentially be reckless. Did I acknowledge the fact that going out into a strange building that no doubt would be full of vampires would be a bad idea? Yes, yes I did. Did I have full knowledge that I had absolutely no clue where I was going and that the vampires drank human blood? Once again, affirmative. Did my grumbling stomach take priority over my safety? At the moment? Yes.

It was about five steps out the door that I truly came to terms with just how big that inside of the clocktower is and the fact that I would most definitely end up lost. But still I continued forward, hoping beyond hope that I could get myself so lost that I could find the kitchen, or anyone nice enough to direct me to the kitchen.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes of me walking around taking turns and going in directions completely at random that I finally came across someone, someone who happened to be a vampire.

The Cullens were vampires and they all seemed to be really nice, even Rosalie as long as you didn’t mess with her, and Aro seemed to be nice enough so I thought that going up to the strange vampire and asking for directions to the kitchen couldn’t turn out too bad, especially considering that Aro, who seemed to be really important acted like he cared for me.

Going up to the vampire I had just opened my mouth to ask for directions when he suddenly turned around and stared at me. That star could only be described like a hunter looking down at its prey, ready to pounce and a shot of fear ran through me. I realized that asking a random person for directions didn’t sound like the best idea and just as I was about to take a step back and retreat he moved. In a split second he had me pinned up against the wall with his hand around my throat, the breath had been knocked from my lungs from the sheer force of his action so even if I tried to call out nothing more than a strangled gasp would make its way out.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking around here, huh?” He hissed, his mouth slowly making its way closer and closer to  my neck, I suppose that’s where my jugular would be, one bite and I would be down.

I heaved in a strangled breath, which was a lot harder than you would think with his hand wrapped around my throat like a necklace. Finally getting enough air to call out I tried to be as loud as I could to draw attention to myself “Aro, Aro, Aro” however just from calling his name three times left me feeling winded and the only other thing I could manage was a meek sounding “please.”

In a blink of an eye, a lot faster than I could process, the weight of the vampire was off me and Aro was standing in front of me with the two male guards from earlier. I slid down the wall with one hand on my throat coughing and trying to get enough air back in my lungs. Between the four vampires, a fight broke out and they were talking but I could hear them over the blood drumming through my ears. The fight only lasted for a couple of seconds before the strange vampire ended up in a pile of limbs on the ground.

While I was still trying to get my breathing back to normal Aro came over to me and crouched down, he looked like he wanted to touch me and comfort me but was holding himself back. At the moment, all I wanted was the comfort that I found around him so I opened my arms up in invitation and as a sign that I wanted a hug.

Relief seemed to come over his face and he pulled me into an embrace. I made sure that I had my hand on the back of his neck so he could use his gift. For a couple seconds he looked distant and I buried my head into his neck so I didn’t have to watch his reaction, I already knew it wouldn’t be good, nobody had a good reaction to memories like mine.

He hugged me tighter and lifted me up, “let’s go back to your room, cara.”

This time he walked us back to the room at a human pace, I would have normally been glad for that but the extra time it was taking us to get to the room meant extra time to worry over his reaction.

“Why don’t we just calm down, yeah” he whispered reassuringly while sitting on the bed with me still in his arms, “I promise nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”

A bout of relief came over me, he wasn’t gonna make a big deal about it or pull away because it made him feel uncomfortable, he was going to stay with me and help me through it.

On his lap I turned so I was stranding him and laid my head on his shoulder. I intertwined our fingers and left our hands on my thigh.

That entire night Aro stayed by my side, only leaving to get me food after my stomach grumbling interrupted us. That night I fell asleep with Aro right by my side and got the best sleep of my life.