#me n the other kids would run around playin for a bit

[dexholderr]

the remnants of a night spent with friends around a bonfire under a starry night sky, carried away by the morning breeze

(^thought of this in relation to one of my names n it made me like it more :])

[fiction-boys-rule]

Imagine...being single on Valentines Day and the Leverage team set you up on a date with Eliot.

Pairing: Eliot/(Y/N)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff

Word Count: 4,615

Second post this week, I’m on a roll! Been feeling Eliot very much, and once this idea came into my head, I had to write it. Happy Valentines Day, and remember you can celebrate any and all forms of love. Hope you enjoy :)

As you open the door, you are blinded with red. Literally. Bright red decorations hanging across the ceiling, roses on every blank surface, balloons taking up the space the furniture doesn’t, and varied pastries and snacks themed with pink or red. 

“What the hell?” You mumble, walking slowly into the apartment. 

You close the door softly and run your fingertips over the rose petals of a bouquet. Then it hits you. 

Today’s the 14th. February. Valentine's Day. Oh no.

You should have stayed home instead of offering to work the pub today. 

’Why did you have to be so nice? Did Nate even say thank you?’ You reprimand yourself. 

“Ah, finally, you’re here.” Sophie says.

You turn and see her standing by the couch, wearing a stunning red dress and gazing at you with an eager look. You’re getting a bad feeling about whatever is going on. 

“Hi?”

“I apologize for Parker’s antics. She seems to have taken advantage of Nate’s approval. This is all a bit over the top, isn’t it?”

You stare at her with what must be a confused and lost look because she just smiles and motions for you to sit on the couch. You walk over reluctantly and sit, fidgeting uncomfortably. She sits and smiles, taking your hand in hers.

“I am very proud of who you have become while being with us. We don’t say if often, but we do appreciate you. Nate also appreciates you. Though he can’t seem to get it through his thick skull how much he needs you. I trust you very much and I know you won’t let me down. You look lovely today, by the way.”

You look down after trying to process her vague statements and suddenly curse yourself for listening to stupid Nate’s ‘recommendation/mandatory orders’.

‘Wear red. Go with the theme of today.’, his text had read.

You hadn’t really known what he had meant and since you weren’t exactly one to look forward to this holiday, the ‘theme’ he had mentioned had gone completely over your head. You had picked a simple dark red dress that had your specific likings, down to the length and skin it showed that made you infinitely comfortable and confident in it. It even has pockets!

“Uh, thanks? You look good too. But I’m kind of confused with-”

“Don’t you worry, darling. You will do great. I know you will. Now all you have to do is trust the process and be true to yourself. Be confident in the way I know you are. Don’t hold back and be honest about your feelings. Fear holds us back. Don’t let it control you.”

“Okay? But Sophie-”

“Ah ah, it will be fine. All will be explained soon enough. Don’t let me down, darling.”

She kisses your cheek and suddenly stands. You try to walk but she holds a finger up as she walks to the door. She opens it and the rest of the team are standing on the other side. They walk in, staring at you. 

‘What the hell is going on?’ you think.

Parker and Hardison have curious looks on their faces and Nate looks smug as ever.

“We’re all going out tonight on our own little adventures as pairs but don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything. We’re all counting on you.”

“Sophie, what the hell-”

“Hardison, when I told you to grab a box, it wasn’t a suggestion!”

You hear Eliot yelling before he comes into view. He stops walking and glances around the room.

“You weren’t kidding about the party. Where are you going?”

He looks over at the four of them and they just smirk at him. It all happens so quick. Parker and Hardison grab him, pulling him into the apartment. He struggles to resist with the boxes in his hand. All of a sudden, the door is closed and a lock clicks. 

“First drawer on the left below the TV!” Parker yells.

You hear them burst into laughter and their footsteps fade.

Eliot stares at the door a moment before turning back to you. His face matches your thoughts: ‘What the hell just happened?’

“Did you have anythin’ to do with this?” he grumbles, setting the box down.

“No! I was just supposed to come for my shift today but then Nate told me to come upstairs first. What did they tell you?”

“They just said there was a mandatory team meeting today and to bring boxes in from the van. What the hell is goin’ on?”

You walk over to the TV and open the drawer Parker had mentioned. Eliot walks over and you see an envelope with hearts all over it addressed to Eliot and you. Well, at least that’s what you think it means. It only says: To the Two Lovebirds, Love Sophie & Parker.

You frown over at Eliot and find him giving you the same look.

“I don’t have the patience for their little jokes today, man.” he grumbles, going and sitting on the couch.

You open the envelope and start reading the letter inside.

“You both must be very confused about what’s going on, but trust all will be explained soon. We have big plans for you both today and wish you well on your journey of love. Don’t let us down.”

“Are they playin’ cupid or somethin’?”

“Um, I think so. It says we have to stay the whole day in here and if we try to escape we’ll face the consequences.”

“What the hell is this? I ain’t a hostage!”

“Don’t try to break the door down. If you do, you’ll owe Hardison a new van because that’s how much that high security door cost. We are watching your every move, so don’t do anything you don’t want us to see. We can hear and see everything. Have fun and if you succeed, feelings will be revealed and a happy ending will be your reward.”

“Happy ending?”

You suddenly realize what Sophie means and your stomach drops. Why did you ever tell her about your stupid crush on Eliot? Why is she so confident he’ll like you back? She is literally going to make you be so embarrassed and get rejected in the worst way possible: being stuck in an apartment with him and working with him. You could strangle her right now.

“Um, Eliot?”

“Man, I just wanted a cold beer today and to maybe cook a nice meal.”

“Eliot?”

“I’m goin’ to kill Hardison when I see him. I’m goin’ to hit him so hard his ancestors hurt!”

“Um, Eliot?”

“What?”

“I think we just got set up on a date by the team.”

Two Weeks Earlier…

“Really?” Parker exclaims.

“I’m telling you, it’s a great idea. They both like each other, we will just push the natural cycle of love a little faster. Who are we to get in the way of love?”

“What are you two up to now?” Nate grumbles, walking into the apartment.

“Do you think Eliot likes Y/N?” Parker asks.

Nate stops walking and almost chokes on his drink.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Nate. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her? How he treats her? She’s the only woman in his world. But they’re both stubborn and afraid to make a move. I just want to move it along.”

“Well, what if they don’t? You can’t be sure-”

“Well I know she does. But you know her. She’s never going to tell him. We have to do something, Nate.”

“Sophie, can you just take a back seat for once? Let the man build up the courage. I mean come on, we never wanted dating to be a thing in the team.”

“Yeah and look what happened.” Hardison mumbles, tinkering with his new system.

Nate rubs his face, sitting down.

“Unplanned things happen. Look, maybe they like being single, or they aren’t ready-”

“Well, why don’t we find out?” Sophie interrupts.

“What? How? Eliot is never going to tell you.”

“Well, I know Y/N has feelings for him. I also know he would never lie to her.”

“Here we go.” Nate mumbles, leaning back on the couch with an annoyed look on his face.

“We cannot let both of them be single and unacquainted with their love for each other! That is a tragedy! We have to do something! Aren’t we their friends?”

“And how would we do that?” Hardison mumbles.

“What do we get out of it, Sophie? Another couple in the team and more risk. Maybe Eliot and her losing their focus. I can’t have that. We can’t have that.”

“A bet, perhaps?” Sophie smiles.

“A bet?” Hardison asks.

“That way we all have something to gain from this.”

Nate grumbles, shaking his head.

“Parker and me will bet on their love succeeding.” Sophie says.

“I am very confident in this little scheme of yours failing.” Nate says.

“Hardison?”

“I'm going to go with Nate for this one. Eliot doesn’t seem like the type to hold back his stupid charm.”Hardison says.

“Alright. What are each of you willing to lose as punishment for losing the bet?”

“I’ve always wanted to see what you store in that little storage unit of yours.” Nate says.

“My prized possessions?”

“Yeah, and if you lose, Hardison and me get to each take five things from it.”

“Five?” Sophie exclaims.

“If you’re that confident in the power of love.” Nate says.

“Fine. Alright, I can do that. What about you, Parker?”

“I think she shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with her bunny for a month.” Hardison smirks.

“A month? Without my bunny?” Parker whines.

“Or any other stuffed animal you have.”

“Trust the process, Parker.” Sophie mumbles to her.

She looks over to her and sighs, nodding reluctantly.

Hardison smirks, continuing his tinkering.

Parker looks at his system and smirks evilly, “I want to be able to play games on your new system for a month.”

He whips around and glares at her.

“What? On the new system? This took me six months to make!”

“Well, you’re so confident, right?” Sophie says.

He looks between them, panicking.

“But, but I just-”

“Are you going to do it or not?”

He sighs, looking back at his system.

“Fine. But can there be a time limit per day? It overheats, and-”

“Fine, two hours.” Sophie says, smiling at a frustrated Hardison.

“Fine! Fine. But if you break it-”

“What about you, Nate?” Sophie and the rest of them look over at him. 

“He has to stop drinking for a month!” Parker yells.

“A month?! That’s ridiculous-” Nate protests.

“Oh come on, you’re the one who doesn’t think it will work.” Hardison says.

Nate looks between them before sighing and standing.

“This is ridiculous. A month. A whole month. Alright, okay. You’ve got your deal.”

They all laugh.

“Well, I see many benefits to this little bet.” Sophie says.

“I get to see what you hide away. I need more decoration, anyway. And I think you have great taste, Sophie.” Hardison says.

“I get to play video games and annoy Hardison!” Parker yells cheerily.

“I get to see the beginnings of love.” Sophie says.

“And sober Nate.” Hardison says.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Parker asks. 

Nate grumbles incoherently, opening another bottle and serving himself.

“Oh darling, I forgot to mention that to set the mood, I’m going to have to get decorations, and their favorite meals and pastries.”

“Cake!” Parker yells.

“Yes, and lots of roses, and-”

“Just use my card.” Nate grumbles before slamming his office door shut.

They all burst into laughter, their new plan ready to be set into motion.

Present Time

“I can’t believe this.” you mumble, sitting on the couch next to Eliot.

Part of you feels betrayed by Sophie, but the other part of you feels strangely anxious and excited. She has to have some sort of confidence in him having some sort of interest in you. Right?

“Alright, so now what? We just stay in here all day?” Eliot protests.

“First activity of the day, preparing a meal. Who can nurture love when they are on an empty stomach? Using the ingredients in the fridge provided, prepare a meal to enjoy together and get to know each other more.”

“They better have gotten good stuff and not left a bunch of crap to cook with.”

“Well, at least you get to cook your nice meal?” you ask nervously.

Eliot looks over at you, smiling slightly.

“I guess. And I’ll be honest, you’re the person I’d rather be locked in an apartment with instead of any of the others.”

“They can hear you, you know.”

“I know.” he grumbles.

You laugh, smiling.

“Well, we might as well make the best of our time here. Not like we’re going anywhere. I hope you didn’t have a date planned for later today.” you joke.

“I did, actually.” Eliot says, standing.

Your heart skips a beat and your smile falters. Of course he did. Why were you stupid enough to think he would confess his feelings right away?

“With my couch and a nice cold beer. Can’t get much better than that. Come on. Let’s see what crap they left us.” 

He walks to the kitchen and your smile returns. You walk over and sit on a stool, reading again.

“Before starting, look in a box located to the right of the fridge. In there, you will find two necessary things needed for your cooking.”

You look up from the paper, seeing Eliot looking with disgust at two pink aprons, filled with bright red hearts. One says ‘Hers’, and the other says ‘His’, with arrows pointing at each other. You can’t help but burst out laughing, seeing Sophie’s ridiculous ideas.

“Do we really have to wear these?” he grumbles.

“Yes, unless you want to see what kind of ‘consequences’ they have in mind.”

You take one, putting it on and smiling at Eliot’s obvious level of discomfort.

“Next, begin your cooking and remember, food is best when made and served with love.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eliot opens the fridge and soon forms an idea for a meal. 

You are chopping up vegetables for a salad and your eyes wander over to him as he delicately cuts and cooks the rest of the food. His eyes are meticulous and hands precise. He obviously loves cooking and is great at it.

“Do you cook much?” he suddenly asks.

You continue cutting.

“No, not much. No one ever taught me. You’d be the first. What-”

His arms surround you and his hands go over yours.

“Hold it like this. Less chance of cuttin’ yourself and it’ll be done faster.”

“Oh, okay.” you whisper, following his directions. 

His body warmth comforts your back and you hear low sounds of approval as he watches you do what he told you.

“Good girl.” he praises before going back to the other side of the counter.

Butterflies form in your stomach and you almost cut yourself.

‘Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.’ you think.

Afterwards, he leads you to the very decorated dining table and makes you sit. He sets a bottle of wine down and serves you. He goes back over and serves two plates and brings them over. You almost laugh at the sight of him wearing the apron. He sits down and you mumble a ‘thanks’ before taking a sip of water. He smiles at you and motions for you to take a bite. You do, and you can’t help but nod your head vigorously and have another bite.

“This is so good, Eliot. Oh my gosh.”

“It’s because you helped.”

“Oh, please.” 

You both clink your glasses and have a sip of wine, eating in comfortable silence. 

“I didn’t get to uh, tell you before. You know, with all this stuff. You look good today, Y/N.”

You blush, looking down and hiding your face with your glass but not drinking anything. After a moment, you reluctantly meet his eyes again.

“Uh, thank you. You do too, by the way.”

He smiles and your heart beats faster. After you have eaten and cleaned the kitchen, you grab the paper again. Eliot rips rather hastily at his apron and throws it on a chair. You giggle and watch as he rolls his eyes. You take your apron off too and run a hand through your hair. You sit on the couch and start reading.

“Hopefully your meal has satisfied part of your inner hunger. Now, it is time to play a game. If you tell the truth, there will be no punishment. But if you do not, a punishment awaits. Grab the box below the bar and look in the box for further instruction.”

Eliot grabs it and walks over, sitting beside you. You open it and grab the paper on the top.

“Time for a drinking game. There will be a series of questions you will be asked from a stack of cards labeled with each of your names. Ask the person the question and if they don’t wish to answer, then they have to take a shot.”

You look away from the paper and see the cards set out on the table with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“Not my drink of choice, but I’m guessin’ that’s the point.”

“Before you start, there are two accessories needed to play this game. Look in the bottom of the box and once you have put them on, you can start.”

Eliot pulls out two red headbands with bright pink hearts at the top. You laugh loudly, seeing as Eliot’s face scrunches up as he stares at them in his hands.

“I ain’t puttin’ this damn thing on.”

“Oh come on, Eliot! The faster we do this, the faster we can leave! What’s the point of just sitting around and doing nothing? Let’s have some fun. Liven up your wardrobe a little bit.”

“No way in hell.”

“Eliot, do it for me? Please?”

His eyes stare at you with a curious look in them. He is reluctant, but eventually he gives in and puts it on. You try not to laugh at him again as you put yours on.

“There. Matching!” you say happily.

“You look cute, I just look stupid.” he groans.

You blush at his compliment and giggle. He rolls his eyes and hands you your stack of cards.

“Let’s just start.” he mumbles.

The questions start off pretty innocently and at one point, you’re wondering what the whole point was of this game. But suddenly, you’re reminded of Sophie’s wit.

“Have you ever had a crush on a colleague?” Eliot asks.

You blush and quickly look over at your shot glass.

“You’re gonna chicken out now?” he teases.

“No! Okay um, yes.”

“When?”

“It doesn't ask anything besides yes or no! You’re cheating!”

Eliot laughs, making you glare playfully at him.

“Okay, you go next.” he says, taking a drink of his beer.

“Okay, um. What kind of underwear do you wear?”

You burst out laughing as Eliot coughs.

“Are you gonna take a drink?” you ask shyly.

“What, you really want me to give you and the cameras a show? I ain’t lettin’ Hardison see anythin’. He’s already seein’ me wear this stupid thing on my head.”

“Yeah, I think Parker wrote that one.”

Eliot serves his shot and drinks it, grimacing slightly.

“Okay, you next.”

He takes a card and looks between it and you a few times. He clears his throat.

“Uh, what does your dream first date look like?”

You are taken aback by the question and you actually start thinking about it for the first time in a while. Dating hasn’t been a priority for you, especially lately. 

“Well, I like quality time. So going out to eat, or taking a walk somewhere. Showing them something I really like, like my favorite film or talking to them about my favorite book. I think a night in would also be really nice.”

You look up and his eyes have a soft look in them. He smiles slightly and clears his throat as he looks away and sets the card down.

‘Damn it Sophie, your plan is working.’

“Okay, next. What’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?”

You both burst out laughing at the change of mood. He shakes his head and genuinely looks embarrassed.

“No, absolutely not. Not goin’ there. Give me the damn bottle.”

You are still laughing as he takes the shot.

“Wow, not even a hint. Was it really that dirty?”

“Next question. What don’t you like about me?”

“Nothing.” you answer quickly, watching as his eyes snap up to yours. You curse yourself as you realize you let your thoughts get the best of you.

“Well, um. I mean, I can’t think of anything. Right now. Um, I don’t know you that well, I don’t think.”

He nods and sets the card down. Shit. You didn’t mean to offend him.

“Sorry. I think that’s the shot talking.”

“Yeah, you’ve only had one.”

You both laugh and you appreciate how it lifts the mood of the room.

“Alright. Um, would you ever kiss me?”

Eliot looks at you, a small look of discomfort on his face. His eyes soften, gazing at you.

“Are you going to drink? You can, you know.”

You laugh lightly to fill the uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Yeah, I would.”

“You would?” your heart starts beating faster.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I would.”

You stare at him, starting to smile.

“I think that’s the tequila talking for you.” you smirk.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

You both smile and you look down only to find that your cards are finished.

“Is that it?”

“Guess so. About time. Don’t know how many more shots or damn questions I could handle.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re getting pretty red, Spencer.”

He glares over at you as you bite your lip and hold back a smile. You grab the paper again.

“Congratulations on getting to know each other better. Now there is one last stage of today’s date. In a box in the bathroom, you’ll find accessories to use for your move night. You can eat the snacks throughout the apartment. Enjoy.”

Eliot stands and comes back with a box. You open it and the laughter makes its way out of you before you can stop it. Eliot frowns at you before he looks inside and he suddenly sighs and puts his face in his hands.

“Now you have found your matching onesies for tonight’s movie night. Enjoy your snacks and we hope you are comfortable. Again, we can watch you with the cameras so keep it PG-13.”

You laugh again as you pull them out. Sophie has picked one of your favorite animals and Eliot got a dinosaur onesie.

“Well, let’s go put these on, I guess.”

“They’re lucky I’ve been drinkin’ enough for this.” he grumbles before getting up and taking his onesie with him.

A few minutes later and you have both changed and picked a movie to watch together. All the snacks are on the coffee table and more pillows have been added to the couch. You don’t remember doing that.

“Do you think we’re livin’ up to their expectations?”

He looks funny holding his beer bottle with the top of the onesie over his head. He looks cute. How does he look cute? Oh gosh. You just shrug.

“Maybe. But we’re still here, so I guess.”

He nods slowly and takes another drink of his beer. 

You shiver as the room gets colder and cuddle closer into the pillows. Eliot notices and watches as you struggle to find warmth.

“Damn Hardison must have turned the air conditionin’ on.” he grumbles.

You glare at the cameras, knowing what they’re up to.

“Here.” Eliot hands you a shot and you frown over at him.

“It’ll warm you up. Plus, it’s no fair I’m more buzzed than you are.”

You roll your eyes but take the shot anyway. You clear your throat and he takes it from you.

“Come ‘ere.” he grumbles, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

“You do know what they’re doing, right?”

“Are you cold or not?” he asks, looking lazily over at you.

Sighing, you make your way over and you tense as his hand surrounds your shoulders. He finishes his beer and lays back again. You start the movie and find comfort in his warmth. He pulls a blanket over you and hands you a bag of your favorite snack.

“How-”

“Movie’s startin’ sweetheart.”

You smile and appreciate his thoughtfulness. After the movie is done, several empty bags and containers take up the coffee table. You both have a short discussion about the movie before you fall into silence again.

You glance at your phone, “Damn, it’s almost midnight.”

As if on cue, you yawn and look back at Eliot.

“You know, I never thought I would actually enjoy today. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Even if I had to wear these stupid things.”

You laugh and nod.

“Yeah, I had a great time. I hadn’t really talked one on one with you before. It was nice. Thank you for cooking. Thanks for not running out of here, too.”

You both laugh and his gaze turns serious.

“You know, I was bein’ serious about what I told you. I know Sophie isn’t one to do these things without a good reason to.”

He doesn’t have to tell you what he’s talking about for you to know.

“I know.”

His hand is on your thigh and you bite your lip.

“The question is would you?” he mumbles slowly. 

You only take a second to think before you gather all the courage inside of you and respond. All the months of you keeping your secrets and feelings inside suddenly come spilling out in one word.

“Yes.”

Eliot slowly leans forward. His eyes glance down to your lips and you both close your eyes as he gently kisses you. Your hand goes to his neck as his other hand pulls you closer. You’re so close to each other, and it’s better than you could have imagined. He pulls away and smiles down at you. 

“Never thought I would do it like this, but I’m still glad I did. I might not kill Hardison, after all.”

You both laugh softly before he kisses you again, even more gently. Eventually, you both pull away and end up falling asleep together in each other’s arms. In his embrace, it feels as though nothing can beat the feeling. You wonder why the hell you waited so long to make a move. You thought you would strangle Sophie after this little stunt of hers. But now all you want to do is hug her.

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team has been in the van for the past hour watching the developments.

“My system. My poor system! I’m sorry, baby!” Hardison cries out, leaning his head on the desk.

They all roll their eyes. Parker cheers and claps her hands, laughing.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it. What kind of games can I play?” she asks eagerly.

Sophie smirks over at Nate. He slowly looks over at her, a look of disappointment on his face.

“I hope you liked your gift.” she says.

“You bought me a bottle of whiskey.”

“I know, darling. And I hope you absolutely love it.”

Nate groans, leaning back and cursing why he ever thought this was a good idea.

Sophie had stolen love all right, and Nate had secretly never been prouder.

[undermattsun-archive]

japan national team x reader | w.c 1.3k

a/n: omg guys here’s the super cute epic collab fic i made w all my frieednsies <33 we all worked superrrr hard on this so pls don’t be mean!!!!!!!!! pls enjoy its xoxox and don’t forget to follow everyone here on this kidnapped by hq collab <33333333333

warnings: not proofread bc who does that xD (guys pls free me from this hell i’m in so much pain i didn’t even look at this i skimmed over it i left it as is, gg)

Read this while lsitening to the best song evar!!!!!!!!!!!1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_cXhBy78T4&ab_channel=JonasBrothers if you dont listen whil reading ill eat ur family MONCH MONCH MONCH

i go dwnstars, yelling ‘by mum!’ bfor laceing up my wite convrrse hightops (NOT blck becauz u cant sharpi on it) wth 1d lyrics scribbled on it. i rmb to draw a directioner infinite sign on mywrist. perfect, i think to mysdlf.

I never thot i would get to go to the olympics all the way on the other side of the planet in toky o japan! It was a dream come true for a simple, average, run of the mill girrl like me, who is 5’7 with naturally wavy hair, that’s not curly or strait and eyes as blue as the dark blue part of the ocean. 

I been dreaming of the olypoics since fetus. I just knew I had to be here, but I never thought it would actually happen. The only thing that would make it better is if I had a smezxy smexy boyfrwend! (A/n: Tee-hee! Maybe even two! (Or five! <333) haha! Aren’t I so quirky? <3)

I’m Wearing A Mint Green Crop Top That Ties In The Front And Some Denim Shorts With Black Converse. I Don’t Need Makeup Because My Skin Is Naturally Smooth And Clear And My Lips Are Already Red #wokeuplikethis And I Listened Only To MCR And P!ATD On The Plane Ride. I Bet You Dont Know Who They Are, THey’re My Favorite Banxds And Are Super GOod And Like Underground Bands. (A/n: Okay But If You Don’t LIke Welcome TO THe BLack Parade GTFO Of My FIc I Don’t Need YOu Here xoxo) 

ok so like,, im on my way to the olympics but then like, i get kidnapped !!! the car i was in was like super expensive and i cant see anything with the blindfold on. i hear voices of men all around me though, for like, a whole 30 minutes before they bring me somewhere and tie me up? "Take Her BLindfold off," one of them say, i hear. and im so nervous. but it's like a dream when they tug my blindfold off and im met with the prettiest emerald orbs ever looking back at me.

my stomach knotted in fear (more like an angry swarm of butterflies fluttering around ) i feel like screaming or squealing or both bc those eyes belong to someone so gorgeous . even more gorgeous than harry styles. hes like a god. i woukd so worship his foot. or something. (squee omg i can’t believe this is happening. i bet you wish that it was you huh?) 

bro who tf has emerald orbs green eyes im blanking rn

^ yo i was gonna ask i cannot for the life of me remember who

his #afff14 sppheres peered into my soul i really just felt seen. i took a deep breath before fainting he was just so pretty. *one hours later* i woke upa nd saw the pretty viridescent peepers staring into mine. like he was literally two inches away from my face omg i could feel his minty breath on my lips it smelled so good.

“My name is atsumu miya,” he said gruffly, the gruffness in his voice so gravely. “And me and me mates here think yer the most gorgeous girl weve ever seen. I blink up at him, orbs gleaming amd full of tears. 

“What do u mean, i’m just a normal quirky girl?” I say shakely, biting my lip. I bit my lip as the piss blond man spoke.

“You don’t know ur beautiful.” YOUR INSECURE DONT KNOW WHAT FOR YOUR TURNING HEADS WHEN YOU WAlk THROUGH THE DO OO OOOOOR

“U may be a normal quirky girl but ur OUR nroaml quirky girl now” his friend said with a deep voice. It was so deep that i almost thot it was like the ocean, he had curly balck hair and his eye were sooo mysterious (a/n i loooove sakusa i can’t believe him and his friends kindapped me omgggg XD)

“Stop it go away” osamu said (hee hee i can never remmber  tell which twin is which LOL i think its osamuuu) “no u have to share” sakusa responded angrily. I starred at them and didn’t know what theyd do next!

I looked over to he side ans see sakura pulling out hand sanitizer passing it around to his teamates. The green orbed boys huff as they put it on. i wished i could see his whole face hes so sedy, look over here pretty girl, i gasp pulled from my thoughts by their captain kita walking into the room with his hands on his hips and was theat aran? “You look even better in peroiusn” aran said to me, walking over to me “how do you know who i am?” i ask.

“listen bbygurl...” he yealls, pulling out a chair to sit acros from me. “you dont get to ask the questions, we are your new masters, and you shall do as we say.” i gulp nervously, my stomach feeling like a sharkndao is happening inside. “we hope u will be worth every penny we payed foru.” 

“M-m-m-masters?” my head felt like it was spinning in a teacup from disney land as i thought about what he just said to me. what did this mean? was i gooing to miss the olympics?? I wanted ot hate him with his super smug look on his face but i cant deny that he looks kind of hot and i’m into guys who look just like him,, the other guys r also relly attractive it makes my heart race. I look around trying to find answers when i make eye contact w a really really reall y tall guy who i thinks name is gao only to see another really really relly tall guy next to him,, hyakuzawa?

“what are yo going to do to me then?” ((*lenny face))

you ask, stomach bubbling. maybe i shoudnt have ateen that stale pizza earlier and washed it down with watermelon-lemon minute maid because now i felt like it was gonna come up. ((ew gross um tw vomit mention hehe)

“Dont worry were going to grab seme din din soon lil one,” one of them says. His name espapes me. Hes a ginger. They wont answer me for some reason and i suddenly miss my freedom when i would go to school (i go to an expesive private school for rich kids ahahah).

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME??” i yell again batting my fists against the ginger but he doesnt even blink. Ive decided hes hot but in a short king kinda way. His hair reminded me of of like cheeto coloured fine thread woven into waves.,,, like the ocean xD (ans...this has an ocean theme)

sudenly there was another voice it was yalling “BOKE HINATA BOKER” i looked with my stricking dark blue orbs and there wasd inother pair of stricking dark blueor bs like the ocean and blck hair. his voicde was veryy deelp an sexxcy (a/n lololol i luv u gakeyama kun *w*)

theres suddenly a loud voice in ur ear screaming directly into ur eardrum " BAKA KAGYEAMA BAKA"  (wtf our they communicating ????  ? )    i cringe at the yellign and another pair of strong arms bulls me away . i land against a hard, solid chest, i can feel the six pack thru his track Suit. 

and then my alarm clock playin what makes u beatyful goes off n i woke up. 

amen.

i rub my eyes wakng up, starrn into the mirror at my super borng brwn ugly eyes and brsh my equaly borng brwn hair. i lok up at m wall and see harey stylz and niallr starinf back at me on t walls. i sigh dreamily. they wud twll me my brwn uairs beatufil. 

[shawnssongs]

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 ⋄ 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

02. 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

It’s the first day of senior year (also we’re just going to pretend they’re all seniors in high school, the pogues and the kooks, including Rafe at Kildaire County High)

series masterlist 01.

an: sorry this chapter is kind of boring! I promise there’ll be more action in the next one :)

warnings: typos, probably wc: 1.4k ish

thanks @jjmaybankx for the moodboard!

It was finally here. The first day of senior year. JJ never cared much about school since it had never been on his list of priorities, but he always loved the first day. He’d usually spend all summer working or hanging out with his friends, so being the social butterfly that he is, he loved catching up with everyone else that he really only saw at school. Plus, at this point, he needed to catch up with his own friends as well. He felt like he hadn’t seen John B, Kie, Pope, and Sarah in months, and other than a few “hey”s here and there, he truly hadn’t.

John B was the same way. Ever since finding out what happened to his father, he’d gotten back on track with his education. His grades improved junior year, especially with the help of Sarah Cameron. John B was ready to catch up with his friends, but he was really just waiting for JJ. His best friend had been MIA all summer.

“John B!” Kiara greeted with open arms when she noticed her best friend standing next to his beaten up Volkswagen.

John B accepted the hug gladly.

Sure, JJ had been absent, but John B had also admittedly been spending more time with Sarah than with the rest of the pogues.

“Where ya been?” He asked her with a smile.

“Around,” Kiara chided, “unlike you, lover boy.”

John B chuckled at Kie when he noticed Pope approaching. They all greeted each other, catching up a bit when Pope asked where Sarah was.

John B shrugged in response. “Met a new girl. She told me she was going to show her around.”

“Sarah loves strays,” Kiara acknowledged.

“There he is!” Pope cheered, gazing behind John B and Kiara at the missing member of their group.

“Man of the hour!”

“Where have you been?” John B asked when JJ was close enough, reaching his hand out for a quick hug.

Kiara prodded. “Yeah, what have you been doing all summer?”

JJ just smiled, playing it off. “I was hanging around at the beach.”

“So were we.” Pope added.

“Guess we didn’t cross paths.” JJ shrugged.

“Or you were too busy checking out tourons to talk to your friends.” Kiara crossed her arms across her chest accusatorily.

“Nah, I did meet this one cool chick though.”

John B noticed the little twinkle in his eyes. “You mean she put out?” He asked, earning a punch in the arm from Kiara and a glare from Pope.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Sarcasm dripped through JJ’s voice. Clearly, he was the one with that reputation, not John B.

The group continues to giggle like children and tease each other as they caught up outside Kildaire County High.

Meanwhile, Sarah Cameron had been incredibly helpful to you so far. You met her just a few days ago when you found out you’d be staying in the Outer Banks instead of moving back home. She agreed to meet you early and show you around the school a bit so you wouldn’t be too lost on your first day.

“Do I look okay, Sarah?” You ask her, noticing all the students walking around in cut off shorts and crop tops. You weren’t allowed to wear just anything like that back home at your private school, so you really weren’t prepared. In a pair of linen shorts and a button up tee, you felt a bit out of place.

“Sure!”

“I’m really nervous.”

“You look terrific,” she complimented.

“So this is Kildaire County High?” The school seemed surprisingly active. It was small, and rundown, unlike your school back home, and even though your old school was large and daunting, somehow you still felt more intimidated by Kildaire County. The uncertainty was causing your nerves to run rampant.

Sarah gripped your arm to calm you. “I know it’s not much, but you’ll love it. Come on,” she smiled, “I’ll help you find your first class.”

With Sarah’s help, you managed to make it through your first couple classes of the day until it was finally time for lunch. The cafeteria looked run down and dirty, but luckily Sarah pulled you outside to meet Kiara, who she’d described as her best friend.

“Y/n, this is Kiara. Kie, this is Y/n!” Sarah introduced giddily, excited to have another friend to do girly things with like shop and do each other’s hair and makeup. The boys would partake sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. Kiara was just as stunning as Sarah, the two of them contrasting in every way. Kiara’s skin and hair both darker than Sarah’s golden complexion, the straightened strands of Sarah’s light hair next to Kiara’s curls. As beautiful as they were, somehow you didn’t feel envious. You felt content. You felt sure that these two girls were people you wanted to keep around. Back home you never got that feeling. You were always comparing yourself to the other girls, trying to be like them or dress like them because that was what was most desired. Here, with Kie and Sarah, you knew they’d accept you for you, and you weren’t afraid to be yourself, because they clearly weren’t.

“Hey!” Kiara greets, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!” You smile as she reached out for a hug.

The two girls caught up on each other’s summers a small bit of time since they’d spent most of it together. You gathered that Sarah is dating a cute surfer boy named John B, and Kiara has a thing for a studious kid named Pope. It wasn’t long before Sarah asked you how your summer in the Outer Banks had gone, and boy were you glad to tell.

“I met a boy at the beach.” You boasted, unable to hold back your smile.

The guys ate their lunch by the Volkswagen because Sarah apparently didn’t want them to scare away the new girl she’d befriended. He didn’t mind though. They had a lot of catching up to do.

“Okay, so what happened with that girl you met this summer? Stop playin’ around.” John B asked his friend sternly, not wanting anymore jokes.

“Nothing!” JJ lied, but he knew he couldn’t get away with it.

Pope rolled his eyes. “Sure, nothing.”

“Come on, you guys don’t want to hear all the horny details, right?”

The guys pestered him until he finally gave in.

“Alright! I’ll tell you.”

“Oh he was so romantic!” You gush. “And cute. Really cute.”

The girls ooh and aww as you continue your story.

“He ran by me, showing off, splashing around.”

“She swam by me and got a cramp. I saved her life, man.” JJ embellished. “She almost drowned.”

Pope and John B didn’t believe him, but they let him keep going. “Took her surfing, showed her the ropes.”

“We went strolling along the beach. We stayed out until ten o’clock.”

“We made out under the dock.”

“Then what?” Pope asked.

“We got friendly.” JJ quirked a brow, smirking at his curious friend. “Down in the sand, if you know what I mean.”

“He got friendly, and he held my hand,” you explain to the girls, recalling the memories. “He was sweet. He just turned 18.”

You pause, the girls watching you in anticipation. “It got colder. That’s where it ends. That’s when we made our true love vow.” You knew it’s sounded extreme, but you wouldn’t explain it any other way. You loved JJ Maybank, even if you only got to spend one summer with him, and losing your virginity to JJ was you vowing your love to him.

“Y’know, I told her we’d still be friends.” JJ shrugged. “I wonder what she’s doing now.” He truly did, more than the guys knew. Y/n was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now she’s just gone, clear on the other side of the States.

“He sounds real nice.” Sarah smiled. She was a hopeless romantic, of course. She loved the story.

You agree. “He was a gentleman.”

“What was his name?” Kiara asked, sure she’d recognize any of the locals.

“JJ. JJ Maybank.”

Kiara noticed Sarah’s eyes widen and just before she was able to tell you, Kiara kicked her leg under the table.

“Maybe if you believe in miracles,” she started, “he’ll show up again, somewhere unexpected.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course!” Sarah chimed in, a bright smile adorning has face.

The six of them went back to class as the bell rung, all blissfully unaware of the events to come.

an: kinda hate this ngl... excited for the next chapter though :) thanks for reading, and please send feedback!

also, ty to now both @milaonthemoon​ and @storiesbymads​ for your spotify playlists that helped while I wrote and edited this :)

tags: add yourself! PLEASE PAY ATTENTION AND SPELL YOUR URL CORRECTLY (or comment if you just want to be tagged in the series) series @talksoprettyjjx @hazelgirl355 @ssjiara @socialwriter @milaonthemoon​ all fics @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @harrysbbby @maybe-maybanks @maybankdreams @ilovejjmaybank @i-love-scott-mccall @sarahcxmeron @obx-direction-sos @mahleeyuh @jjmeybank @simonsblue @deviouscharitos​ all obx @thelocalpogue​ @maybankiara @ewgrossiknow @poguelifesurfshop @stargazingstarkey @pogxe @t8-er-tot @amanecer-cora @rudths @x-lulu @pixelated-pogues​ @apoguecalledjj @hiddleless @sungieeeeeee @letsgotothehop @tcmhollnd @jjs--whore @jjswhore @miawantsapuppy @talksoprettyjjx @dani-c2 @hemmoemotional @kennedywxlsh @drew-starkey @beth-winchester21​ jj @teamnick​ @everyonesababe​ @infinitydols​ @ritasunflwr​ @jjaybank @theloveofpeterparker strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, and PLEASE let me know if there are any mistakes. also sorry this looks so weird..

[obxparadise]

Cop Car

JJ Maybank x Reader 

Word count: 1,354

~A fic based on the song Cop Car by Keith Urban/Sam Hunt~ 

A/N: If you like this, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine. Credit goes to the owner*

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Man, they weren't playin They sure put those cuffs on quick You tried to sweet talk 'em They didn't fall for it, but I did

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Regret was the only word that wasn’t apart of JJ’s vocabulary. Whatever he did, he did with purpose. With reason. With pride. And he never regretted a damn thing, even after some Kook had called the cops on him for pulling a gun on Topper at the Boneyard.

JJ didn’t even have the chance to run as he’d been surrounded by three different police vehicles. Trying to fight law enforcement wasn’t the brightest idea either, as he now was sporting a busted lip, bruised ribs, and a torn white shirt.

In the back of the cop car, JJ sat with his head against the driver’s seat headrest, his blonde hair sticking out in every which way. The cops had done a number on him, and every time the car drove over a bump in the road, the pain in JJ’s ribs would start up again. Biting his lip, he tried to redirect his thoughts away from the pain.

“Where’d you get the gun, son?” asked Officer Shoupe. Chuckling softly to himself, JJ shook his head. There was no way in hell he would open his mouth. The cops in the OBX couldn’t be trusted. JJ learned that the hard way. “I said, where did you get the gun?”

“I have the right to remain silent,” JJ reminded, lips pulling into a smirk as Shoupe and his partner, Deputy Thomas shared an irritated look. “Ain’t that what you told me?”

“You keep actin’ out, you’ll end up just like your daddy,” Thomas remarked, hoping to rile up the sixteen-year-old boy. It didn’t though. After enduring years of abuse from his father, JJ became desensitized to comments about his dad. Letting things roll off his shoulders was better than dwelling on feelings and trying to make sense of them, at least in JJ’s mind.

“Hold on, Thomas,” Shoupe said, quieting his partner as he turned up the volume on the radio. Leaning forward, JJ could only hear bits of the dispatcher.

Robbery at Denny’s…unarmed female…seventeen…black tank top, white shorts…

Shoupe and Thomas eyed each other momentarily before pulling into the Denny’s parking lot which they had been conveniently driving by. Shoupe put the car in park before turning around, “This ain’t gonna take long. Don’t try anything stupid.”

JJ snickered as the two officers stepped out of the vehicle. “No promises, buddy.”

Not even five minutes later, JJ’s head perked up at the commotion out front of Denny’s. Almost instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep red as Deputy Thomas pushed you into the car, slamming the door behind him. JJ happily drank in the sight of you, slightly embarrassed that his cargo shorts had constricted. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? What’s your name, baby?”

Clenching your jaw, you eyed the smirking blonde beside you. JJ Maybank. The devilishly handsome Pogue with anger management problems and daddy issues. He was notorious for smoking weed, fishing, and stealing. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

“Y/N,” Not wanting to make small talk with a known criminal, you leaned forward toward Deputy Thomas. “Officer, is this really necessary?”

“You stole from the store,” Thomas answered.

“It was a candy bar,” you retorted, wriggling your wrists in the handcuffs. “And I said I was going to pay for it, I just didn’t have enough cash.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken it,” JJ piped up, flashing a bright smile. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, princess.”

“It was for a child,” you said, teeth gritted together. “I was waiting for my brother to bring me a dollar.” As both officers ignored you, you leaned in closer, softening your voice. “Look, I really am sorry, okay? The little girl was upset and I just wanted to see her smile. This is all just one big misunderstanding.”

JJ eyed you curiously when you shot a wink his way. For a brief moment, his pulse quickened. Were they actually going to let you go?

“Sorry, kid,” Shoupe replied. Groaning, you sat back against the seat, your attempt at sweet-talking the officers one big failure.

“I’ll be damned,” JJ laughed, causing you to let out your own. “You had me fooled.”

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But there was somethin' bout the way The blue lights were shinin' Bringing out the freedom in your eyes

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JJ was captivated. The whole way to the station, his eyes stayed glued to your face, which was solemnly pressed up against the window. The black bandana around your head kept the curls away from your cheeks, giving JJ the chance to appreciate your beauty. You were stunning, no doubt about that, but there was something about the way the bright blue cop lights brought out a twinkle in your eyes that kept JJ staring. He could almost see through you, into your free-spirited soul. You weren’t a Pogue, but your personality didn’t scream Kook either. You were somewhere in the middle, and JJ was overcome with a sudden itch to get to know you.

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We talked, we laughed We sat real close By the time they let us go I was already gone

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“Wait, you brought a gun to a party?” You asked, rolling your eyes as JJ gave you a proud nod. “Are you insane?”

“Insane is my middle name,” JJ gloated. “And besides, the douche had it coming. He tried to drown my best friend. That shit won’t fly with me. And apparently,” JJ nodded toward the two officers, “Bringing a gun to a party doesn’t exactly fly with asshole 1 and 2 up front either or else I wouldn’t be here.”

You giggled as Shoupe and Thomas exchanged irritated glances, clearly fed up with JJ’s antics. Turning back to JJ, you noticed he wasn’t trying to hide his staring. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Not my lips, sadly,” Warmth crept up your neck as JJ laughed, running his tongue along his lower lip. “Sorry, it’s just…I can’t help but think you and I come from two different worlds. Here I am being arrested for possession of a weapon, and you’re being arrested for having a heart of gold.”

Your heart skipped a beat as JJ offered a shy smile. Boldly, you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind though, as his cheek lay against the top of your head, staying in that position until you arrived at the police district.

You were let go almost immediately, but JJ had a harder time of convincing the officers to let him go. After twenty minutes, JJ was able to talk himself out of jail time. How he did it, he was clueless, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it. Instead, he ran out of the district as fast as he could, almost colliding with you.

“They let you go?” Grinning, JJ grabbed you in a hug. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

JJ set you down before massaging his wrists. “Don’t ask questions, baby, just be glad I did.”

“Well,” you said, hands slapping against your thighs, “It’s been quite an adventure, but it looks like it’s the end for us.”

Pushing his hands deep in his pockets, JJ stepped forward, a gleam in his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What?” your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to see you again,” JJ admitted. He was smitten with you, and if he were being honest, he didn’t want the night to end. Your smile was beautiful, your laugh was contagious, and you had a sense of freedom that drew JJ closer to you. “What do you say?”

With a new sense of confidence, you grabbed JJ’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to his bruised cheek. Smirking, you looked at the troubled boy who, if you learned anything about him that night, was a sweetheart under all the rough layers. “What kind of trouble are we getting into next?” 

[itwillbeall-dwight]

sonata no. 4

kate denson/yui kimura; fluff; love confessions; music performances; 3085 words

a/n: bro i love country roads so much do you Know how much i do. do you know.

i’ve been sitting on this one for a while, i’ve been kinda nervous to post it because this isn’t something i relate to as a trans mlm. but i think i did a good job! they deserve so much happiness. also this is a call for kate to please call me god ma’am you are So pretty.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Well, uh… any requests?” She seemed almost sheepish now that she sat there, self-conscious that the old thing was oddly silent.  Yui leaned against the top of the piano, folding her arms atop it and resting her chin on them. “Go wild. Beside you singin’, I’ve never… heard your music.” “You’re not missin’ much.” “I’m sure I am.” She looked up with a soft smile, face going a little red as she cleared her throat, hands hovering over the keys as she muttered to herself, before she began to play. 

Another day, another trial in the fog, four poor souls fighting for their lives for the entertainment of some eldritch crowd. This time, the dusty horizons of Glenvale were the sight of such an event; the trial ground mostly silent aside from the occasional scream of pain from one of her fellow survivors. Though that hadn't been often - thus far, with two generators powered up and ready to go, the four of them running circles around the Hag, the poor forest witch so out of her element amongst the dust and sand of the American wild west. That wasn't going to make them pity her, though, and her bony fingers still swiped at them like claws, and she still growled with the same hunger and malice, seeming to only grow angrier with each failed attack.

 The gentle creaking of the nearby hook from a silent wind was only drowned out by the sounds of turning gears and electrical sparks, the smell of rusted copper wires carrying up to her nose and making it wrinkle as she gently crossed over another pair of wires, routinely, as she had learned to do from her trials before. From the corner of her eye, sunkissed arms reached out from the depths of the generator to pull down a nearby leaver and turn a crack, listening to the machine groan and sigh before it purred to life, lights atop it flickering on to signal the third one down-

Before she could stand to her feet and revel in the small victory, the gentle yet surprised yelp to her side caused Yui to look down the trap door atop the gallows down at Kate, now sitting on the dusty ground below, rubbing her tailbone with a pained wince on her face.

"Break your back, cowboy?" She called down, with a small smirk on her face, squatting with her elbows resting on her knees.

The singer looked up with a pained grin, laughing weakly, that in itself sounding like music. "S-sorry... kinda forgot it did that.

Yui chuckled a little, trying not to pay attention to the way her face glowed when she smiled, hoisting herself down the hole with a bend of the knees and a light thud, before holding a hand out to help Kate to her feet.

Which she took. Her hands were soft, like silk, and her grip was somehow both delicate and firm as she pulled herself up to stand, taking a moment to almost shake her hand before pulling it away and resting it on her hip.

(Yui hoped she didn't notice the way she instinctively moved to grab it again, just to hold it for a little bit longer.)

"Well, those generator's ain't gonna finish themselves, huh? Let's get  a move on." Her instructions were like honey - sweet, and thick with kindness and a southern twang that was distractingly enticing.

But she held it together, just enough, to nod. "Yeah, got it. Saloon?"

The other survivor nodded, a default sweet small befalling her features. "Great idea, hon." 

After the two had checked along the horizon of the dusty town to find nothing more than a loose tumbleweed, Kate led them through the back of the saloon, where even the sound of her boots against the old rotting floor, or the way she talked to herself as she dispelled out the talisman's left in the wood with her flashlight was enough to make the stonecold expression so default to Yui's face soften.

 So she had a crush on Kate Denson. Who wouldn't? The girl was perfect, practically untouchable, even in the fog, always excited for a new adventure in every trial and willing to try anything more than once, always celebrating when they escaped but never solemn or disheartened when they didn't, always willing to lend an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, and never short of a song to get everyone happily singing along. Yui'd had crushes before (she was only human, after all), but never like this - they were always fleeting, passing by before she would care to even give them a chance, her work and ambitions drowning her. But here in the fog, there was no tarmac, no smell of burning rubber or old gasoline, the only roaring not coming from old dirtbikes but from whatever monster of the week wanted them dead... but with Kate, she was head over heels for her, and wanted more than anything to be her girl, to be the wind on her back, but somehow always knew there would never be a chance. Maybe that's why she hesitated, even with a thousand chances.

 She was so caught in her thoughts that she didn’t realise that Kate had stopped walking in front of her, bumping into her back with a quiet litter of a sheepish apology before stopping. “Hey, Denson?”

“Huh?” She seemed to snap out of her own head and look back to Yui, before glancing around. “Oh! Oh, right. Generator.”

“What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing bad, just…” Kate looked back in front over her, as Yui looked over her shoulder and followed her eyes to the old piano, the racket as if someone was falling on the damn keys, over and over. 

“...You play?”

“Vaguely. Helps to tune your guitar, gives it somethin’ to tune it to, ya know? I did lessons as a kid, ‘n my mom would take me to recitals with a camcorder and freak out every time.” She laughed, that sweet honey laugh, that slowly fizzled out into a sound that came from sadness. “...I kinda miss playin’, sometimes.”

That made sense. Yui knew the feeling; tearing up the road on a bike wasn’t the same as kicking up dirt running on adrenaline from an asshole with a knife, but it was the closest she was ever gonna get until they got out of here. Her hands hovered over Kate’s shoulder’s for a moment, before she gently placed them there, weathered palms holding perfect skin, warm to the touch. “We’ll figure somethin’ out. For now though-”

“Generator. Right. You’re not subtle.”

“...Sorry.”

Kate giggled, shaking her head in dismissal, not really minding the acknowledgement of her reminiscing was far from the point of them being there, letting herself be pushed upstairs to the generator on the balcony.

 They were mostly quiet, though Yui did ask for her to talk about the piano more, mostly just to hear her voice. The things Kate was saying didn’t entirely make sense to her (she was never the most musical, but understood when things sounded nice, at the bare minimum), but hearing her sound so excited was more than enough.

The conversation eventually stopped, shifting as Adam came to join them, short of breath and bleeding through his coat, medkit in hand and asking for assistance, which Kate was happy to give. Yui kept her focus on the generator, as best she could, but the ghosts playing the piano just below her kept catching her ear. And as Kate came back to the generator, happily talking to the teacher that now joined them as if they weren’t in a trial trapped in the old west, she knew what she wanted to do.

 They escaped with relative ease, the struggling with never really catching up with them, all four of them escaping with some new items in hand, thanks to Zarina, who had done an excellent job keeping the Hag occupied in the dusty streets. Yui hadn’t seen Kate much for a while after that. When one was busy, the other was not, and when one was enduring a trial, the other was scouting out a realm for any clues to their escape (routine exercise). But that was fine, in terms of her little plan - the less she saw, the better. And besides, she didn’t think Kate would notice, or even care. But soon, they spoke again, after another group of four were sent to fight for their lives.

 “Hey, uh, Yui?” Her sugary sweet voice gave the survivor a start, jumping as she was cleaning a flashlight from the small pile she’d accrued.

“Ah- oh, uh… hey.”

“Hi! Uh… can I ask you somethin’?”

For a moment, her mind jumped to the best-case scenario, but Yui cleared her throat before she could daydream any more on that. “Um, sure?”

“Have you seen… any coins?”

“...Coins?”

She nodded. “Well, Jake was checking through the stock and, uh… says we’re missin’ a few. Haven’t seen him that riled up about somethin’ since… well, ever.”

Yui almost laughed. “That boy is a damn dragon, I swear.”

“Think he likes to just… have things.”

“Things like coins we can’t even use?”

“Well… yeah.”

Yui scoffed a little, rolling her eyes before she put the flashlight down on the log beside her, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward where she sat, looking up at the singer. “I… have an idea. But you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I… OK? You can tell me anything-”

“No, no,” she cut her off. “...I want you to come with me, somewhere. Just the two of us.”

She raised an eyebrow. Yui quickly picked up on the signal.

“...Nothing bad, promise.” The street racer offered a hand, beckoning with a slight movement of her fingers.

She took her hand with hesitation, though quickly squeezed it to affirm her choice. Yui gave her a small smile, hoping it wasn't shaky, before standing to her feet and leading her away into the forest, taking a path with downtrodden leaves, as if she’d taken it before.

 It wasn’t long until the fog cleared again, old leaves crunching under their feet replacing with the grains of sand and dust, trees becoming rotting wooden buildings, while the sky above them twinkled with stars, no air pollution in sight.

“...The saloon.” Kate said from behind her, as Yui stopped them in the walkway just in front of the imposing building. “Is there something here?”

“I… yeah, in a way. ...Look, you wouldn’t tell Jake-”

“Yui, you didn’t…”

“It’s not like we need them anyways! ‘Sides, I thought that old cowboy might appreciate ‘em, and then I could, ya know… negotiate.”

“...For what?”

“Well… the piano.” She cocked her head back towards the instrument, before looking back at the singer, who’s face had softened a little bit from the lecture she was about to give. “You said you missed playing, and you give so much to everyone else, so I thought…”

As the street racer trailed off, Kate smiled, cupping her hand between two of her own, and shaking it. “Well, that’s… mighty kind of you.”

“Y… yeah.” With a free hand, she rubbed the back of her neck, before letting herself be led inside, to the piano, noticing that as Kate sat down, she was hesitant to move her hand away, to flex her fingers and prepare herself.

 “Well, uh… any requests?” She seemed almost sheepish now that she sat there, self-conscious that the old thing was oddly silent. 

Yui leaned against the top of the piano, folding her arms atop it and resting her chin on them. “Go wild. Beside you singin’, I’ve never… heard your music.”

“You’re not missin’ much.”

“I’m sure I am.”

She looked up with a soft smile, face going a little red as she cleared her throat, hands hovering over the keys as she muttered to herself, before she began to play.

It was a slow song, soft and loving, and though she was rusty and stumbled her words as she missed a key or hit a wrong note, she still powered through. Yui watched her face, the way she performed even when no one was watching, and how her music really was like sugar and honey, sweet and enticing. She tilted her head and smiled to herself, looking at the features on Kate’s face with a deep, profound love, as if she could stand there and listen to her forever - and she would, if forever was the time they had.

 She finished with a bittersweet note, slowly opening her eyes and looking up to Yui, face flushing a little from the way she was staring at her. “It’s… nothing special. Just a little somethin’.”

“Well, it sure sounded special, to you. And that makes it special.”

“I… guess? Thank you, Yui.” She gently pulled the cover back over the keys, resting her elbows on it. “It was based on a… dream, I had. I remember writing that on the school bus and working on it all day, ‘cos a teacher of mine tried to take the sheet music off’a me when I wasn’t payin’ her mind… can’t stop me grabbin’ it back when she left the room though.”

“Dick.”

She laughed, nodding in agreement though never saying it outright, gentle laughter fading into silence and a soft smile that they shared before the singer averted the gaze put on her.

 “What was the dream about?”

“Hm?” She looked back again, as Yui was still looking at her.

“The dream you had, about that song. What was it?”

“Are you… sure you want to hear it?”

“Kate, we have as much time as we want. Only the ghosts’ll hear you.” Yui pressed her back against the side of her piano, folding her arms across her chest. “C’mon.”

The musician took a pause, sucking in a breath and then letting it out slowly, before she caved and told her tale. “It was… a drive, some red car with the roof sawed off, a crappy convertible that can’t withstand the rain. Ferrari, I think. We were going pretty fast. It was twilight, against the backdrop of the ocean from the cliffside, the pinks and oranges were so… vibrant and free. I stuck my head out of the window and yelled, you know, like a drunk girl at a concert, came back in with my hair across my face, smile stuck to me. S-she was smiling too, my sunset lover. Auburn hair, cut in a bob, sunglasses so big you could hardly see the freckles that dusted her cheeks. Plump lips with bright red lipstick. A dazzling smile. She moved her hand from the gearstick to hold mine, brushed her thumb against my knuckles. She smelled like… pineapples? Or mangos. It was a tropical smell. Very fruity, and nice.”

Yui watched her twirl a bit of her hair between her fingers, face going a little pink as she recalled her dreams, the light dusting of the blush overlaying the freckles and reminding the street racer just how deep she was.

“We pulled up to a car park, near some old beach bar I think, right in front of a bamboo fence that separated the tarmac and the sand. She reached in the back to grab her sunhat - ya know, one of those big floppy things - but I grabbed it from her first, and after she playfully tried to get it back to me, our faces were so, so close… I could smell her fruity smell, and I… we kissed. God, it was like heaven, it was like the world was nothing but at the same time everything, because she was… well, she was it. I dropped her hat out of the window and I’m sure the wind stole it, but I didn’t care. She didn’t care.”

 Yui looked down as she finished, watching Kate fiddling with her hands as her elbows leaned against the piano, trying not to look too embarrassed but failing miserably. It was almost adorable. She swallowed. “...Does it have to be a car?”

“Huh?” Kate looked up to her. The other survivor averted her gaze.

“T-to go on your twilight beach trip, does it have to be in a car?”

“I.. I suppose not? Why does it matter?” She blinked, and paused… before a shy smile spread across her face. “Yui, you-”

“I just- I have… a bike. Means a lot to me. I’ve taken a lot of girls for a ride, but I’ve never… rode to the beach before… maybe, you know, if we make it out of here, I can… take you to that beach.” She fiddled with her collar, forcing herself to meet Kate’s eyes, feeling the heat on her face. She took a breath, before taking to shooting her shot. “...Maybe I can be your sunset lover.”

 Everything else was a rush after that, but at the same time everything around them seemed to stand still. Kate ran hand down Yui’s arm, her touch like silk and skin like sunshine despite the dirt and grime of the fog, fingertips brushing against her softly and delicately before she held onto Yui’s hand, looking down at her perfect nails and running a thumb over her knuckles before she looked up to the other woman through her eyelashes, the smile she had never leaving her face, like an invitation to come in closer. An invitation which Yui took with grace, as with her free hand she cupped the singer’s cheek, moving down to plant a kiss on her lips, one that was slow and tasted like sweet fruits, as she’d always imagined it would, moving her hand down to hold onto Kate’s hip as she still sat at the piano. As she pulled away, she couldn’t help but smile, feeling the other survivor’s lips twinge into a smile of her own as she took Yui’s chin between her forefinger and thumb, grip both firm and gentle and oh so welcome, keeping her close and looking deep into her eyes, her other hand interlocking with the street racer’s that she still held, going in for another kiss; quick, and sweet, before letting her move away again, moving her hand to twirl her curls (perfect and blonde as ever), between two fingers.

“I… wow.” She was breathless, looking down for a moment.

“Yeah?” Yui laughed, then making the singer giggle in response, rubbing the back of her neck rather sheepishly - why did she say that?

Didn’t seem to matter much, though, as Kate seemed… almost… charmed. “...Yeah.”

 She stood to her feet, looking down at the hands still intertwined, gently rocking the union back and forth before she felt a forehead pressed against her own, the two of them sharing a smile that no one else would see, by the window of the old saloon. Well, no one except the old cowboy who had just returned, watching them from across the way, flipping an old, coin in between his fingers.

[fmdkiana]

【✧】━━━━━ 🌿 k i a n a     i n t r o     p l a y l i s t 🌿 ━━━━━【✧】

these are nineteen songs that i’ve been listening to while making kiana’s blog [x] some i came across, some randomly thought of, and some suggested by lovely muns i’ve been chatting about kiana to. since she’s a character that i’ve adapted for the purpose of famed, these songs have helped ground me in the person she is. i hope the songs and descriptions below will help you learn kiana a little better too

1. to be torn by kyla la grange

this first song was a suggestion from someone, and i think set the tune for the rest of my choices. apparently it’s from beauty and the beast? lol anyway it describes this desire to be torn, a carnal need to be used. the heavy sound of it is kind of haunting, a bit sad, but also strong. the emotion can be felt even without the lyrics. kiana has this part of her that deeply craves being important, whether it comes at her own expense -her own tearing- or not. also forewarning that a lot of these overlap on the same concepts. shrug emoji

2. intertwined by dodie

intertwined is a song that immediately came to mind for kiana after to be torn. when this song came out, many people saw it as a cute love story, wanting to be intertwined with a lover, and have them be the safe space when you have a troubled head. however, dodie made a video debunking this, against her natural inclination, because the song describes something severely unhealthy. the following music video also helped many people to see the gore that’s strung throughout the lyrics. it Actually describes a relationship where the participants have put all of their source of happiness in one another, and it’s left them codependent, but ever seeking more. kiana has this perpetual trouble in relationships, especially romantic ones

3. bite by troye sivan

i can be the subjective of your dreams, your sickening desire is a pretty good sum up of where the inspo comes from. it’s difficult, when talking about the negative parts of kiana, to not talk about her ex-boyfriend. i have lots planned to talk on so i won’t go on forever here, but it reminds me of how all it took was the tiniest invitation for kiana to “become his.” that’s how she works. come here puppy, don’t bite, and she’ll heel at your side forever. at least, back then. she’s someone who seems difficult, because she’s very asocial, but with the right formula, it could be so easy to slip her into your arms

4. hell in heaven by twice wish

this song is a bit similar to intertwined, i would say? someone who feels stuck, drowning in a “hell” that is only saved by a piece of “heaven/paradise.” yet they’re in between the place of hell and heaven, constantly confused of where they land, because they’ve placed their hope for salvation in this one, singular place/person. they want to be freer than they are, yet their salvation keeps them locked away. open the door to heaven, let me walk on the cloud. the day i’m trapped in you, save me, hold me tight

5. dinner & diatribes by hozier

a few different levels come from this song. while it was created with the idea of how tedious social gatherings are, the story that comes from it makes another world. kiana is asocial, and struggles with fear over social situations, which make something like dinner parties quite stressful for her. she’s also someone who isn’t fond of small talk, and more likely that type to say ‘talk to me about your deepest fears,’ but... she actually means it and isn’t saying it to be pretentious. she would much rather see the sickest, nastiest parts of someone, soak all of that up, than talk about whether the food was good. the music video describes this in part, but also gives a hades/persephone but worse type of story that is also quite kiana aligned. that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of

6. creep by radiohead

i want you to notice when i’m not around. so fuckin special, i wish i was special, but i’m a creep. not to ‘have you ever seen me without this hat’ on you, but lissen! kiana is forever convinced she’s an outsider. the things she likes are more Cool these days than they were when she was a kid, but the feeling of being ostracized for liking them back then will always live with her. she’s an insecure overthinking fuck at times too. and also desperately wants to be someone special, and unique, as if having that would make her pain of feeling different worth it

7. seigfried by frank ocean

the meaning of this song is pretty different from how i view it in relation to kiana. for her, the focus is on the idea of ‘settling down’ being... acceptance of normality? her whole life, she’s been searching for someone and/or something that makes her feel special. she became an idol for this exact reason, dated her ex for that reason, seeks the relationships she does, thinks she could still have superpowers for this reason. but the truth is that she’s pretty normal. her hobbies are very normal people type things. her talents aren’t anything that would have her being called top of the line. her thoughts are all things other people have thought of. her booksmart intelligence isn’t any stronger than the average. she is very normal, and the tiny part of her that acknowledges that usually shoves it away. but on occasion, she wonders if she should accept it, and settle

8. gimme love by joji

gimme gimme love is all you really need to know lol kiana doesn’t stick around easily when she’s not being given the same kind of world-ending affection from those she’s chosen to share that with that she gives out. she gives at Least 110% of her love, affection, and loyalty into anyone that she has chosen to keep closest to her heart, and if she isn’t getting that back, she can feel dejected, unloved, and unimportant. she may give people like this a few chances to change, but her expectations, or “standards,” won’t change

9. pain by king princess

cos i can’t help turning my love into pain is the strongest lyric that ties back to kiana. the overall message isn’t as strong because king princess has a different view on a relationship as described than kiana. for her, it’s yet another kiana will put herself in the face of terrible parts of relationships. the trouble is that she enjoys it, and seeks it, thinking it’s the ultimate show of love. not to pain one another, but to be pained without them. also realizing after all these i should be saying this applies to her inner circle friendships as well, but the standards are just a little less heavy

10. any song by zico sun

not one for big gatherings, kiana likes to have her social interaction either through the wire, or in small groups (duos are best to her tbh) the song has an upbeat tune that contrasts against the lyrical meaning of something more about... any song will do, something to drag away the sadness that’s living inside. kiana functions a bit like that, always seeking her uniqueness to bust out and save her from her own mind thinking she’s not good enough

11. why won’t they talk to me? by tame impala

she is asocial, but that doesn’t mean being a hermit,, an otaku,, whatever you want to call her, is a life full of happiness. she functions very well on her own, but when she has that for too long, it can be damaging to her head as well, especially when she has inner circle friends or a romantic relationship. when not speaking to these people, the need for human connection seems unbearable to deal with, and anxiety runs rampant

12. alien by lee suhyun

her mama told her she’s alien, but actually it was herself telling herself she’s alien mixed with influence from pop culture making her want to be a superhero and kids who told her she was a freak, all coming together in the desire for weirdness to be a Cool thing. kiana will wish til the day she croaks that she will have a realization that she has a special power

13. stressed out by twenty one pilots

ki doesn’t care about the core message of this song. many people relate to oh no bills~ adult stress~ but kiana doesn’t. even if she wasn’t born into a family that could live comfortably, and didn’t become an idol making phat stacks, she would feel the same. to her, it’s an inevitability. HOWEVA the beginning lines are 1:1 for how she wishes to be something extraordinary, and is supa insecure that she isn’t. i wish found some better sounds that no one’s ever heard. i wish i had a better voice that sang some better words ... i was told when i get older all my fears would shrink but now i’m insecure and i care what people think

14. true crime by epik high ft. miso

not exactly 1:1 word by word, since there’s several perspectives coming in one song, however, the overall message i think can be summed in it’s a true crime to be without you. other lines like i’d open up my chest for your entertainment, that was the line that drew me to originally put this in the playlist. i’m not sure on a story behind the song, but it strikes me as something bonnie & clyde-esque? there’s themes of being on the run, lying on the pavement dying, stuff like that. that kind of relationship is strongly the ideals kiana holds for her romantic and close platonic relationships

15. shine by pentagon (shouldve been knight but bad bois image PLAYIN)

i cannot explain to u the random joy this dumb song gave me when it came out. it’s similar to power up like i just?? get so happy lol anyway the whole premise is like nerdy person has a crush n theyre like oh my god~ why would u like me~ i cant say i like u~ it’s super fucking cute. i’m a loser who loves you. yes, i’m a misery. to you, i’m a nuisance, i’m an outsider, but in this world, i only need you. that’s where the kiana part comes in strongest, or explains it in one sentence. she worries she isn’t enough for others but her affections are always incredibly strong. also she’s cute

16. tail by sunmi dimensions soloist 2

when i first heard this song, i needed to play it again to pay attention to the lyrics because i had the feeling it was kiana-esque. i was right, but i would say that it’s where kiana could go at her worst. has she been there? i’m not so sure. perhaps teetering on the edge of having her claws out, but really, for now, it’s just that the potential is there

17. she’s my religion by pale waves

so as to not repeat myself too much and because this is so much fookin writing already, this is another song that talks about how deeply and dangerously kiana falls into others. she’s no angel, but she’s my religion, always finding ways to numb the pain ... made me feel like i was finally enough ... she needs this love just as much as me

18. space cadet by beabadoobee

this song has similar themes to alien, but rather than about being special, it’s about being in a shitty place and letting your mind wander to create a better reality. ki has her interests, her extreme love of her fandoms, because it’s an escape for her. that’s not something i personally approve of, however, it’s a common reality for many people. living in these online spaces and thinking of these fictional worlds gives her a place to go to when the irl world is too difficult for her to handle

19. me! me! me! by teddyloid

you might think this is a meme addition and sure! to a degree it is! but i’m also going to talk about it as an actual piece of music and visuals. first we’ll talk about the music video. kiana feels complicated about the type of anime fans that oversexualize everything, so in general, she likes a message that’s against those types. the message of addiction tearing real life relationships apart also is something kiana sorta needs to hear. the lyrics of the song itself talk about an all consuming type of relationship, and dissects it to explain how it wasn’t love, but worship, which was dangerous to them both. it’s a song that kiana perhaps would need to take to heart, but i, as her mun, am unsure if she ever will. that depends on the connections she forms, and what types of people are goading her on, or trying to get her to stop

[soultek]

American Country Love Song - Jack Hoskins x Reader (The Outsider)

@thatgirlinthecemetery​ @lipstick-and-lycanthropes​ @deanyta-wrc​ @fancycinderella​

I’m not gonna lie I was kinda blown away by your responses! I got inspired again - so, here’s a fic with a 24 hour turn around time! I hope you enjoy this one just as much 🥰💜 Thank you so much for all your kind words!

Author’s Note: Here we are again! You really all outdid yourself last fic, I have to say, I was blown away by the response I got. I’m so happy to find more people that love him!! (I certainly have more ideas in the works-!)

We changed the lyrics to this beauty by Jake Owen!

Disclaimer: The Outsider & The Outsider HBO (+ all associations) not mine / lyrics not mine / one again I capped the cap (I always like those kinda arty not looking at the camera shots when I cap and Jack is no different)  Premise (Well. I guess it’s a snapshot fic, there’s not much ‘Premise’): It’s essentially one of those “the 5 times that...” Fics. So, may I present to you, Five different kisses - by Jack Hoskins.

Words: 2874

Warnings: Hmmm... slight sexual Pre-Amble

_______

Wonderin' who's gonna kiss who first, you know what I'm talkin' about Hey baby what you doin' tonight? It's butterflies and Bud Lights Under the stars and on the stripes of a beach towel in a spring break town It's playin' in the night air, through the speakers all night long Couple kids just livin' that American country love song It's one last kiss in the driveway Hey radio DJ, can you play that song that she loves So I can turn it up, and maybe turn her on An American country love song In every town and every place There's a boy who's tryin' to take a chance and dance And find a way to run away with her heart In the back of an old Ford truck In the bar just lookin' for love In a pair of oh my blue eyes Let them fireworks start That American Country love song Ain't never gonna quit playin' on and on and on, and on So let's raise a glass Cheerleaders and quarter-backs Cowboys and country girls All around this small town world To the same old pick up lines We've tried a million times All the bad and good as it gets To the ones that you ain't met yet In the bar just lookin' for love In a pair of oh my blue eyes Let them fireworks start That American Country love song Ain't never gonna quit playin' on and on and on

---

Your first kiss was never particularly how you might have envisioned it. Even though it also shouldn’t have surprised you. Jack Hoskins was a drinker, and your little bar happened to be one of his favourites. He didn’t always arrive sober, but you liked it best when he did. Then you could control his measures and at least try your best to look after him. You always worried that if he got too drunk he wouldn’t come back. He opened up to you pretty easily; and soon enough you knew his life story. Sometimes you thought he aught not to be telling you the things he was, but you wouldn’t stop him – only listen. That was all Jack needed, still, he kept coming back and you wanted to give him something back, so you told him a little about yourself – and started to have real conversations about things. It was always nice to see him. You weren’t sure if you should, but you always looked forward to him coming around. And with the way Jack was, it was always bound to happen. You had yet to need to point at your sign and say “I have the right to refuse to serve you.”, Jack always seemed to behave here – but you’d heard enough stories around town, from friends of yours that also owned and tended bars, that this wasn’t normal. You didn’t know if he’d been banned from any full stop, but you did know that the weird little strip club only let him in because he was a member of Cherokee City PD. Tonight though he was in one of his worse moments, and it was shot after shot after shot. The only reason you didn’t cut him off was because it was so close to closing time. He would have to leave soon anyway; what worried you is he’d find somewhere else open. Jack’s truck was in the parking lot and there was no way in hell you were about to let him go driving. “…I’ll be fine!” “Jack! You’re slurring your words! I’ve called you a taxi!” You’d also like to point out to him that you were having to support him as he staggered across the parking lot. “Well what about you-!?” “I can drive just fine – do you need anything from your truck? House keys? Anything?” “No.” “Okay…” You breathed, thankful, continuing towards the parked up taxi. “Now before you do anything stupid, give me your keys.” “What-!?” “It’s for your own good, hand ‘em over.” Jack grumbled, but didn’t put up any more fight than that as you pocketed them. You told the taxi driver his address, to make sure it was clear (and Jack wasn’t about to start bar hopping), and opened the door for him. “You gonna be okay?” “I’ll be fine.” Unfortunately you didn’t doubt this wasn’t new to him. “Good, I’ll bring the truck back tomorrow. I’m not sure you’re gonna be all that fit to drive with a hangover.” There was momentary silence, nobody moved, even though he should be getting in the cab and going home. Instead Jack tilted his head, blinking. “What?” He continued to stare, and you looked around you, “What? What’s wrong?” You weren’t uneasy; Jack never made you feel uneasy. He laughed, “Nothin’.” “Then what is it?” Jack’s laugh continued, “You’re just… you’re really beautiful.” You raised both your eyebrows and tilted your body, arms folded, “Okay- get in the cab! You’re clearly very-” You didn’t manage to finish the sentence before he pulled you in, lips on yours. You froze when you shouldn’t have. You should have pushed him back, told him to stop. He was drunk, and you could taste an amalgamation of liquor on his lips. You didn’t want him to stop. But you were aware of the cab meter running and pulled away, heart racing; fast – too fast. You were taking deep breaths and blinking furiously. “J-Jack, get in the cab and go home. Please?” before you do something else you might regret… “Y- Y/N!” “Please?” Yet you took his hands; “I’ll see you soon, okay?” “Y/N!” You turned from the cab and hurried across the parking lot as he called after you – but by the time you’d turned back, the car was pulling away – so at least you know he was heading home. You didn’t leave the bar until much later than you envisioned – the buzz of alcohol remained on your lips, and you couldn’t get the feel of his body against yours - arms around you, hands on your back – out of your head. Maybe he wouldn’t remember tomorrow; you weren’t sure if you’d be disappointed if he didn’t. You’d surely find out. When you pulled the black RAM Truck smoothly into the unoccupied parking space by his apartment, and the electronic voice told you you’d reached your destination, it was late morning. You peered around as you stepped out; this wasn’t an area of Cherokee City you knew too well; but it looked like a good neighbourhood. You were glad of that much at least. By the time you had ascended the stairs to his apartment Jack was at the door; half opened and peering shyly at you. “Hey!” You were cheerful, in no way did you want this to be an awkward interaction. “Hi…” Jack seemed hesitant, “How are you?” “I can’t complain, how’s the hangover?” You grinned “Believe me I’ve had worse.” “Mmm…” You nodded, thinking ‘well that’s good!’ probably wasn’t the best phrase to use. You held out his keys, “I think you’ll find she’s still in perfect condition!” “Right.” He chuckled, “Thanks!” “You’re welcome. Better this than any other scenario, right?” By the look on his face you thought you probably shouldn’t have let that slip out either. “Yeah… I guess…” He looked to the keys, “Well, wait, what about you – how you gonna get home?” “Oh,” You gave a shrug, “Call a cab – it shouldn’t be too bad!” He pointed behind him, “Do you – do you want to use my-?” “No!” You waved your mobile at him, “I’m covered, but, thank you!” Jack nodded, biting his lips together, and you waited for the sentence you could see him fighting to say; “I’m- I’m sorry.” “For what?” “Last night, I was drunk and I-” You cut him off with a shake of your head, and small knowing smile; “Don’t be.” Before Jack had a chance to respond you held your hand up in goodbye and started back towards the stairs, “See you around Jack! You’re welcome!” “Y- Y/N!!” He called after you and this time you did stop at the top of the stairs. Jack had let your response sink in, and there was a pink tint to his cheeks, “Would… would you like to stay, for a bit?” Your little smile slowly became a grin, and this time you expected the response your heart gave you; “I would love to.” *** If you thought him going on cases was bad for you, then him going away hunting was ever so slightly worse. Depending on timing; but usually he was gone for around a week. At least on cases it might be hours; but that always made you jumpy because cases could be just as dangerous. And sometimes Jack found himself in dangerous situations. You didn’t want to lose him now. Sometimes he’d invite you out with him but, you both knew that was little more than courtesy. You didn’t really want to go, and it was unlikely you ever would. Still, it was sweet of him to ask and you always made sure to decline politely. Sometimes you might even smile and add; “Next time!” Jack did let you help him pack for his trips, and that was at least enjoyable – the faster you packed, the faster he went, the faster he was back to you… - but then again, loading it all into his truck wasn’t. You sat on the tailgate of the truck swinging your legs with a small pout, this wasn’t a long trip – but it was a nice day, and your friends were having a nice summer BBQ. Jack had pretended to think it over very carefully, but you both knew where he’d be happiest. That didn’t make you any less downhearted that he’d be missing it. He loaded the last of his things and turned to you, still sitting there. “A’right, sweetheart, lets shut this back up.” “Aw…” You slipped off and watch him lock the hatch back in place, “Do you have to go?” You always whined at him like this with a jokey smile “Would that I could stay.” He gathered you in his arms, making you laugh, “Ah no – I know when you’d rather be out there than with me!” “Not at all!” Though Jack couldn’t help but laugh with you, “You know I’d much rather stay here!” “Yeah, yeah!” You cupped his face and pushed up on your toes to place your forehead gently to his; “Stay safe, okay?” “I will.” “Check in, even if it’s just when you get there.” “I will!” “And come back to me-!” “Baby…” He gave you an are you serious?! look, “I’ll be back – tonight!” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you pulled him to your lips, winding your arms around his neck. “Still doesn’t seem soon enough to me!” Jack only smiled as he pulled you into a tight hug, pulling you from the ground, “I promise, it’s not gonna be as long as it feels.” “I’ll miss you.” “You will not-!” He scoffed, “You have your friends, go have a good time!” Jack placed you back on the floor and stole another quick kiss, before he rounded the truck and jumped into the driver’s seat. You backed away as he started it up and wound down the window, “You can say Hi from me, if you like?” “I’ll make sure to tell Ralph how much you were gutted you were gonna miss him-!” Jack couldn’t help but laugh hard at that; “Oh, okay, I see how it is!” You gave a wink, before blowing him a kiss, “Go on! Go enjoy yourself without me!” “Awww-!” He reversed onto the road, “That’s so hard!” Jack’s clear sarcasm had you laughing, “Shut up!” “I love you!” You shook your head; “I love you too-!” He gave a final wave, with a wink of his own; “Later sweetheart.” Yeah you’d miss him, and you’d worry about him. But Jack was right, he’d be back soon. By all accounts this was a short one. Besides, you had a party to get ready for! *** From time to time however, he’d use his precious few vacation days on you, and you would get to go on a real holiday together. Sure, Florida was only one state over but it afforded pretty beaches and still wasn’t Georgia. You would much rather be with him out here than close to Cherokee City, where they could just call him back and away from you. Jack was always so much more relaxed too, holding hands with you and walking down a beachside boardwalk. He looked happier too, and that was important. The sunset was just beginning and you’d had yet another amazing day out here, winding yourself around his arm and fingers laced with his, you talked softly as you made your way back to the hotel. You didn’t know how many days you had left; you didn’t want to dwell on it. Time wasn’t a construct if you managed to pull him away from work. Jack was probably thinking on it, in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t saying it out loud – or letting it affect him. A fact for which you were grateful. “You look beautiful.” He murmured, as if he hadn’t been musing this all evening since you’d put this sundress on. But it was the way he was saying it now, in the quiet of the evening, that really made you blush and giggle. “Stop it!” “What, no! You do – you should let me say it, you deserve to hear it…” You squeezed his arm a little tighter and rested your head against his shoulder shying away from his face; “Well, thank you…” then you did look to him, with a small smile, “You look particularly handsome tonight.” He scoffed, “Yeah alright, that’s enough from you.” “NO…!” You untwined from him and stepped so you were ahead of him; fingers still linked with his; “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to tell you that?” “It just ain’t true. At least what I said was true-!” You frowned, eyes narrowed, pulling him closer as you slowed to lean up against the railing; “Don’t you presume to tell me what I can say is fact, Jack Hoskins.” “She says.” “Don’t you start…” You ran your hands up his chest, before drawing him in by the collar of his shirt. Jack placed his hands either side of your body; you were perfectly framed by the setting sun – and if he’d thought you looked beautiful before… “You should just let me love you.” “Don’t I?” “You can be a little awkward about it.” “Oi-!” But you weren’t about to let him finish the thought as you tugged him into a kiss. Fierce enough to shut him up, gentle enough to entice him into kissing you further. His hands ran down to your hips and lifted you up to sit on the rail. You had to steady yourself against his shoulders with a small gasp, but he supported you delicately. Kisses becoming soft and romantic against the appropriate back drop. He tasted like sunshine and summer, the salt from the beach and sea air; perfect and everything you wanted. He kept his hands balancing you as he pulled away, blue eyes shining to match the sea as they were bathed in late sunlight. Slowly Jack wound his arms around you, placing his head gently to your chest to listen to your heart and closed his eyes. You smiled, comfortable in his embrace, running a hand through his hair before resting them around his shoulders, turning to look back out to sea. “It sure is beautiful tonight…” “You should see it from where I’m standing.” You chuckled, “I guess it can’t be too bad, huh?” His arms tightened around you; “As long as you’ll let me stay.” You grinned, turning back to him, and embracing him fully, “As long as you like.” ***

It wasn’t always sweet and romantic. No relationship was, after all. Sometimes you just needed him. Sometimes those kisses were hot and heavy and your breathing was short and sharp. Tonight was no exception, sitting on your kitchen counter with Jack between your legs. It might have started with a sweet kiss, but it wasn’t staying that way as you ran through the buttons on his shirt. His kisses were hot and heavy and everywhere on your skin he placed them burned like contact from fire. You just wanted more, and more, and more… His hands gripped your hips and pulled you forward; you gasped at the friction but you craved it. Winding your legs around his waist, your lips found his again as you pushed his shirt from his shoulders. His bite of your lip was not gentle and you gasped again, tilting your body away from him. Jack went for your neck, hands running under your own shirt. “Jack… Jack please…” you whispered, “Jack, I need you…” You felt him smirk against your skin as he continued his trail of kisses, shuddering as his teeth graved your skin. “Jack-!” His lips found yours again as your shirt found the floor and you whined against the travel of his hands, and then moaned louder as his hips ground against yours; “J-JACK!” He only chuckled, kissing you again; you didn’t exactly need to tell him how much you desired him; “Hush, baby.” If his tone of voice wasn’t making you shiver you’d almost call it soothing, “I know what you want…”  His next kiss was teasing, an almost kiss that ghosted your lips and he held you back from the gratification of a real kiss, “and I’ll give you what you want…” Jack found your neck once more as he moved his hand between you. Your body immediately arched into his as you cried out; cheeks flushed and suddenly his kisses seemed even hotter than before. “Just be patient…”

***

You didn’t ever want this to end. It was comfortable, you felt safe. For the first time in years you felt home… as if you were finally with the person who was meant for you.

Like the quiet night in bed together, lying on your backs as if you were in a field looking at stars, his hand clasped around yours, the feeling of the warmth of his body. When Jack shared his dreams with you. When you started formulating dreams of your own, when they included him. When you saw your future... that kiss was sweet and innocent - but full of promises; these ones to be kept. Like the ring around your finger.

The beginning of the rest of your life together...

---

Thank you for enjoying these so much! It’s very sweet of you all! 😘😘😘😘

He’s fun to write when I get inspired for him..!

[aeromuses]

 Ch. 2 Valentine Blues (A Hey Arnold Fan Fiction)

   Previous Chapter.

   “Across, through the loop, a little adjusting, a little tug AAAND - perfect!” 

   Despite his previous Valentine blues, Arnold now had a patient, almost smug little smile on his face, upon looking back at his reflection in the mirror, holding onto his tie as confidently as he could, before reaching up to graze his fingers through the ends of his cornflower hair like they were a comb, making sure it stood up straight. He was proud of himself for remembering the way Gerald had taught him to to tie a tie last summer, unlike his cooky grandfather, who he appreciated more than anyone, but who was also just a little too old to remember things like tying a tie. 

   “Maybe Gerald was right and...all I needed was that nap.” 

   Maybe tonight there will even be someone as dateless as I am. Yeah, that’s the spirit.

   Meanwhile...

   With Helga’s phone buzzing uncontrollably, nearly vibrating off the end of her bed, she was getting ready as quickly as possible. Of course she was lucky to have a dad who ran beepers, but God were they LOUD when they wanted to be, just beeping all over the place. 

   “Gee whiz, Phoebe, just a second!”

   Doesn’t she know that i’m getting ready? The words ‘Arnold’ and ‘dance’ didn’t register in her little miss smarty pants brain?

   In spite of everything however, Helga answers nonchalantly, resting her Bob’s Beepers cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. She was in a pretty decent mood after all, despite the slow burn of nervousness that she had grown accustom to when it came to Arnold related things.  “Helga G. Pataki.” Always, always professional...

   Putting her multi-tasking skills to work, she yanks a collection of hanging dresses all to one side, nearly stepping inside of her stand in closet that’s filled with pink to the rim, until she finally finds the one perfect dress she’s looking for, reserved all the way in the back. “Aha! Yeah, you were saying Phoebe?” 

   Cheap brush dipping into her semi-stale mascara, getting to the good stuff at the bottom of the half-way goopy bottle, she begins to doll up her eyelashes, listening intently. “Uh-huh...oh, criminey! Phoebe, do you have any high-heeled shoes that I could borrow? I just...for some reason, I just can’t seem to find my other heel!”

   Meanwhile, on the other line...

   “I will be there in exactly 1 minute and roughly 30 seconds, Helga. Already fully prepared and on my way. Remember the last time you dressed as Cecile? Well if I remembered correctly, I recall you reporting that you lost one of your heels that exact night you wore them, and well...since then I’ve been keeping an extra pair under my bed, just in case. That’s precisely what i’ve been trying to tell you this entire time. So sorry for all of the phone calls, I just HAD to reach you, you see...”

   “Oh, wow.” Phoebe really was impressive. How did she do it? Well, there was no time to question that. However, at the end of the other line, she could somehow hear her friend smile before saying, “I know you would do the same if it were me in similar circumstances with Gerald...not that I would ever land in said circumstances myself, but well...you get what I mean. It’s the very least I could do Helga.” 

   Did I really leave my shoe behind that night? 

   Helga’s memory, suddenly coming up foggy as she pondered this question. She was feeling so many emotions that night, that she had forgotten how she had even gotten home all on her own in the dark, probably wanting to head straight back before Arnoldo noticed anything too characteristic of the girl behind the mask.

   “Phoebe, you really are too good to me. Just come on in, okay? Bob is watching TV downstairs and Miriam is passed out.” 

   Smiling to herself, she hit the ‘end call’ button. She was actually pretty excited to see Phoebe, and even go to the dance together. Sure, Geraldo was still a total geek, but he wasn’t half bad for Phoebe she supposed. As long as he didn’t mean funny business! Everyone knew that they would be talking to ol’ Betsy if that were ever the case.

   Hearing a light 3 knocks on her parents door down below, despite her insisting that Phoebe just barge right in, she knew that was indicative of her friend’s arrival, which meant soon, very soon, Cecile would be making her way to P.S. 118. 

   BACK AT THE DANCE

   “See, Arnold? This ain’t so bad.” An optimistic Gerald chimed in, as he and his best friend leaned beside the punch bowl. “They’ve even got your man playin’-”

   “Dino Spumoni.” They both said in unison. “Yeah, you’re right Gerald. I don’t know what I was thinking, moping around back there. There’s more to dances than just...girls, I guess. Take this punch bowl, for instance. It’s not entirely bad once you get past the tartness...it’s actually, actually pretty good for-”

   “Couldn’t help but overhear you enjoying that punch, Arnold, Gerald? I’m happy you like it! It’s homemade, straight from Sheena’s kitchen! Gee, we must have spent about an entire hour making it the other night, isn’t that right Sheena?” 

   “Oh, yes!” The hippie-looking girl replied just about as squeakily as Eugene, only more relaxed, her usual content smile on her face, before nodding and grabbing another refill of punch.

   “You were saying Arnold?” Gerald had a look of amusement on his face, as Arnold sheepishly tugged at his collar, laughing unhumorously, a bit nervous now about tasting Eugene’s punch, despite having decided long ago that him being a ‘jinx’ was just all in his head.

   “Yeah, right.” Arnold only smirked, his eyelids suddenly drooping over his eyes, the way they always did, drifting off to the sound of Dino Spumoni’s music. Before he knew it, he was off in his own world, the chatter of the children around him simply fading away as he melted into a putty of relaxation. The entire room felt like a boat, rocking back and forth in a gentle swing, as Arnold’s creative mind processed the tune filling up the auditorium, each musical note causing him to drift away farther. 

   That is, until...

   “C-Cecile?” 

   From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn-

   “Hey, ARNOLD. Hey Arnold!”

   “Huh?” His head whipped around for a moment, confused. As Gerald was speaking to him, he could have sworn he had heard Harvey the postman speaking in his low, mature tone. “Hey Arnold, you still got those Valentine’s Blues?” He had heard the voice say, before snapping right back out of it, and once again hopping back to reality, a very concerned looking Gerald staring at him. 

   “Cecile? Who’s Cecile? You mean that pen-pal from France from a couple years ago? The one I took to get hamburgers?”

   “Yeah! Wait, yes, but n-no. I saw her, right there Gerald!” He exclaimed, pointing to where the blur of pink had flashed before him. “But not Cecile-Cecile...Cecile! The other Cecile! I mean...it’s confusing.”

   “ARNOLD, snap outta’ it. What would Cecile be doing here, on Valentine’s day? We live in America, remember? And say what?” He exclaimed, simply worried for his pal. He couldn’t explain how much it really freaked him out when Arnold pulled stuff like this. It was like, inside his head it made sense, but on the outside it didn’t look good at all. 

   “Gerald, I can’t explain it any better than you can. I was drinking Eugene’s punch, just listening to Dino’s music, and the whole room got all...weird, and-and-”

   “Whatever you say, Arnold...whatever you say. Hey, i’m gonna go grab a slice of one of those cakes and bring it over to Phoebe. She likes the lemon meringue best. You gonna be alright? Maybe lay off that punch for a while...” Gerald couldn’t help but snicker, wondering how anyone would let Eugene participate in making the punch for the whole grade to begin with. 

   Meanwhile, Arnold was still trying to piece things together. Phoebe? Since when did Phoebe walk in here? Didn’t she always come in with...Helga? Just her name alone, causing an almost involuntary shutter to wash over Arnold. Thinking of Helga was still, well...a little awkward, just like it had been running into her the other day. 

   It was strange though, that Phoebe would walk in all alone. She wasn’t exactly the type to walk or ride all the way to school by herself. And yet he had just seen her, stepping through the entrance way alone. Or was that the same time he saw Cecile walk in?

   Arnold blinked a few times, rubbing his forehead as if to correct his thought pattern, only even more confused than before. Well, it wasn’t exactly his business anyway...and Phoebe would be okay now that she had Gerald to escort her. He had always had this habit of watching over others, making sure that they were getting along okay.

   With a sigh, he stared down at his cup of punch, watching his funny, semi-distorted reflection before tossing it into the nearest garbage hiding underneath one of the impressively set up tables of snacks. He had to admit, this year the decorations were looking much better than the last. It was almost like the place was set up to take place in France or something, with all of the Paree related designs. 

   Just then, it was nearby that he heard Rhonda Wellington speaking to Nadine and Peapod kid, a look of satisfaction on her face. “I stayed up ALL night, just designing this entire area. I would say it’s the best dance to date, since the most popular girl designed it.” 

   At that, Nadine nodded, half-smiling, half-smirking to herself, just happy that Rhonda seemed to be placing her energy into something creative. A moment later, they all threw their heads back and laughed dramatically. “Quite impressive, miss Wellington...quite impressive.” Said Peapod kid.

   Well, I guess this was it. Without a date, he would just stand here and observe, watching everything and everyone around him as he often tended to do, just letting the evening unravel, allowing himself to space out just a little bit, all the while the lights turned down low, only a small flicker appearing.

   But wait...

   Another flicker, and another...

   Soon those same soft flickers were washing over the dance floor in an array of tiny hearts, a slow tune playing to paint a pretty picture. In the center of the dance floor, Arnold couldn’t believe it. No one else was paying attention, all in their own little world at the snack bar or getting their picture taken, leaving this one, singular spot secluded, just for the two of them. 

   “Cecile?” 

   “Ar-nold.” There came that interesting accent, causing a small, nostalgic smile from Arnold himself.

   “Is that really you? Am I...imagining things?”

   “I...are you happy to see me?” 

   “I...don’t know, Cecile, it’s just-” His thoughts speaking for themselves, it wasn’t as though he weren’t happy to see Cecile, just confused more than anything. 

   “Arnold, dance with me.” She almost whispered, attempting to hide the desperation in her tone.

   “I...I can’t. Not until I, know who you are.” 

   “What...what do you mean?” And there it was, that soft tone that came out from under Cecile’s accent every so often, that made Arnold all the more intrigued, but also suspicious, and most of all, curious. 

   “Cecile, how did you even get here?” 

   Despite Arnold’s previous claim, he had found himself placing his hands on her upper waist, where it was proper to dance, as her shaky arms nervously lowered onto his shoulders, following suit, while the hands of said shaky arms were lowered, trying their best to remain graceful sitting atop his shoulders, just barely brushing his neck and hairline.

   And that’s when they began their dance, Arnold’s eyebrow raised, reminding Helga of the April Fool’s Dance, just a tinge of embarrassment coming to her cheeks. “I...like I said, I can’t tell you who I am.” Her voice plain as day, Arnold was peering into her eyes, searching... just searching. 

   Then, suddenly, just as quickly as the curiosity had arrived, it had also disappeared, his expression dropping to a relaxed smile, eyelids drooping downward in all of their half-lidded glory, for the girl before him. “You know, it’s been a while since i’ve seen you Cecile, and i’ve...grown up a little since then. You may even say, I forgive you for what happened.” 

   Forgive me? Was he being serious? Helga’s thoughts screamed to her from under her veil. God, Arnold thought he was such a noble steed! So far along his own moral compass to realize that she didn’t exactly need his APPROVAL or rather, forgiveness for what happened. What WAS he so SMUG about anyway?

   Not realizing her hidden personality coming out to say hello, however, amongst her coupled secret thoughts of judgement, she murmured out sarcastically. “Oh, wow, thanks.” Only to retrace her steps both mentally and physically, seeing as she involuntarily began backing up with her dancing heels as well, nearly tripping backwards.

   It was then, without realizing, that they were suddenly doing the tango, the music having switched up a notch as a new musician took up the stage. “I, I mean-” She sputtered out, but it was too late. Arnold had that dreaded smirk on his face and he was taking her all over the dance floor, gripping her waist and wrist so very tightly as they danced in union, dipping her back and causing her to nearly have a heart attack.

  “Monsieur!” She squeaked. “Too fast - you’re going too fast!” If she wasn’t too careful, she was sure she would end up punching Arnoldo’s lights out. What could she say? He just brought it right back out of her, I guess, with his infuriating little mind tricks. And she thought she was bad. Is this how he had treated Lila, and all the other girls? Well no wonder he was dateless! Criminey! 

   “Don’t do the tango back in France, huh?” Arnold had no idea what was going on with him, but he just couldn’t stop. He knew that Cecile wasn’t who she said she was, but why was he feeling so...just so, like he had to do this? Had to get BACK at her somehow? 

   But his thoughts of course were interrupted, by the speechless look on Cecile’s face, looking almost as though she were crying out for help, as her eyes wandered off to the snack bar far behind them, searching for her best friend, Arnold just barely noticing this behavior, as his eyes wandered with her own.

   PHOEBE....PHOEBE, SAVE ME!

   Back on the other side of the bar.

   “Did you guys hear something?” Came a peep from the short, dark-haired girl.

[kpopchangedme]

The Wingman | Jae

Jae’s late for pick-up at the daycare center and he worries his favourite teacher hates him now... That is, until his son accidentally saves the day.

Protagonists: Park Jaehyung & You (ft. his 4 yo son)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: SFW - Romance - Single Dad - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “That’s... Not mine?”

Requested by: @noona-clock, I hope you love this :D

DAY6 | M.list

As soon as his car comes to a halt in the empty parking lot, Jaehyung jumps to run in direction of the rainbow entrance. The gray commercial building, probably dating back to the 60s, would be as boring as it gets if it weren’t from said colourful door. Without slowing down, he pushes in, not even bothering to put on the designed slippers after kicking off his shoes. 

“Bongbong?” He calls in the now empty place, breathless.

“Ahoy, Mr. Park,” you greet, emerging from the office and waving both of your hands his way.

You’re wearing an unusual accessory tonight; a black eyepatch over your right eye and he frowns in worry. Did you hurt yourself? Jae feels even worse now that he sees you’re here. You’re the new daycare teacher, and he finds you adorable. Of course, you’re the one who got stuck here with Jaebong because of him. As if reading his mind, you turn to look at the time on the digital clock above the playground. 7:15PM; it beams, taunting Jae. Ok, he’s never been this late for pick-up before, it’s bad. It’s a Friday night and he’s sure someone like you has better things to do than care for someone else’s son after-hours. You must hate him now.

He rubs his nape nervously. “Hum, it’s just Jae, actually.” It’s overly awkward being called by his last name since you’re around his age. 

“Ahoy, Mr. Just-Jae.” You repeat, smile widening, and he finds himself staring, at a loss of words. What’s with the ‘ahoys’ and the eyepatch? “Your son is around, here somewhere, but you’ll have to fight him first.” 

“I’m sorry to be so late,” confused, he takes a few steps inside the playroom, “I wasn’t supposed to be the o–” 

“ARGH!” A high-pitched scream interrupts his excuses at the same time as something stings his right thigh. “All aboard!” When he looks down, Jae finds his son with a plastic cutlass and a way too large black pirate hat on. He’s standing inside a toy box where he was most probably hiding, waiting to ambush his father.

Oh… That is what’s going on with your eyepatch. The young boy is frowning threateningly, brows furrowed in a grimace mimicking disgust. He’s wearing eyeliner, and large lines are drawn across his face from the same pencil. What is probably meant to be a beard is traced on his chin, and a very impressing mustache is stretching on both sides of Bongbong’s mouth, ending up in curls on his cheeks. Someone should give you a raise for your imaginative makeup skills.

“There he is!” You say, pointing although it’s not obvious already. “Beware!”

“Jesus,” Jae mutters, struggling not to laugh too at this most unexpected sigh. Ultimately he decides to play along: “But... That’s… Not mine?”

“W-Wait what?” He raises his head in time to witness doubt and panic twist your soft features.

“My 4 years old had a lot less facial hair this morning...” He explains, making you laugh in relief. Jae grins, proud of himself, you’re even prettier when you’re laughing at his jokes. “That isn’t my son,” he points to the fierce pirate at his feet.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing a little soap won’t wash away. We might have taken it a bit too far playin–”

“PIRATES!” Jaebong yells, slashing his leg once more, and this time Jae kneels at the hit, acting wounded. “I am Cap’n Bong, and I give no quarter!” Bongbong squeals when his father counterattacks, caging him for a tickle war. Losing, the boy laughs until he’s practically panting, struggling to say something Jae doesn’t quite catch. When he’s released, he repeats himself awfully serious; “You’re not mommy...”

Instantly, Jae’s smile straightens, remembering the reason why he’s so late. He wasn’t the one supposed to pick his son up at the daycare in the first place. His ex was supposed to spend the long weekend with him, but she called at the last minute saying something came up at work. Jaehyung had to cancel his plans and drop everything. He could’ve called his own family to help, but he didn’t want to burden them… Or for his mother to rant about his ex in front of his son.

“Mommy couldn’t fly back from Japan for the weekend... It’ll be just you and me, little buddy.” Jae glances your way, apologetic for the both of you. “I’m so sorry, daddy came straight from practice as soon as he knew.”

“That’s okay,” the little boy says sternly, dropping his pirate act altogether. He walks away to get rid of his toys and Jae groans, burying his face in hands, disheartened.

He wishes Bongbong wouldn’t be so calm about all this. He’s so used to being let down by people in his life all the damn time, already familiar with rejection. He’s only a child, he should get angry and cry, instead he just takes everything calmly. Jaehyung must damage control every time she screws up. All of this is eventually going to blow up.

“Is your wife away on a business trip?” You innocently ask, voice neutral. Jae notices you’re holding your purse and keys, ready to go out… With the eyepatch. Maybe you really hurt yourself and it wasn’t all for your brief pirating stunt.

“Um, yes... But she’s n–”

“Mommy isn’t daddy’s wifeeee!” Bongbong comes back trotting, grimacing at the apparently unthinkable, “EWWww!”

Your brows shoot up in surprise and Jae makes a weird sound, halfway between a snort and a chuckle at his theatrical ways. He totally got that from his side. “Oh, I’m sorr–”

“It’s alright. We’ve been separated for a long time.” He interrupts to reassure you, eager to move on. “It’s just us; the dream team.” Grabbing his son’s tiny hand, Jae pulls him towards the exit and begins to help putting on his shoes. “Let’s go, little buddy. Your teacher seems to have plans and we’re really lat–”

“I can!” Bongbong whines, snatching away the pricey Nike Air Max his uncle Younghyun got him. Nowadays, he hates whenever someone tries to help, but his father keeps forgetting. “That’s not true. Teacher doesn’t even have a boyfriend!”

Jaehyung bites down his lip as he slips on his own shoes, avoiding looking straight your way. You clear your throat, embarrassed. If Bongbong could score a (partially) toothless 4 years old ‘girlfriend’ on his first day of daycare... Jae is sure a grown woman like you has no problem finding a date on Friday night. Probably with a good man who isn’t a mess, and who doesn’t have to adapt his schedule around his young kid all the damn time. 

“Girls don’t need boyfriends to have plans, Park Jaebong.” You fake-scold, ruffling the little boy’s hair, but he’s too concentrated on the Velcro tapes of his shoes to mind. Jae feels himself go all mushy at the sight. “But he’s right,” you add, clearly for the older Park, “I don’t have any...” As soon as you realise what you just said, your eyes round in dismay. “Plans, I m-mean, not a boyfriend! Euh, I’m not in a hurry… So, you can take your time, it’s really no trouble. As long as you come to pick him up, I’m fine.” Jae’s blood rushes to his brain as his heart begins to beat faster. You’re flustered, but he’s not sure why. Surely it has little to do with him. “But I don’t have one either… A boyfriend I mean…” His mouth opens in confusion at your clarification. “Nevermind, forget I said that.” You hurry to add, wincing before running a hand in your hair to mask your uneasiness. Jae breathes out, trying to make sense of the last 30 seconds. That was unnecessary right? You didn’t have to share that personal information with him.

“Do I get to have ice cream now?” Bongbong asks dryly, totally ignoring the general atmosphere between you two grown-ups. He stands back up to slide his hand into his father’s. Jae is thankful for the distraction, since he has no idea what to do with himself after what you said. The little boy turns to you to explain; “When mommy doesn’t make it, I get ice cream.” 

“Yes.” Jae replies softly, somewhat ashamed to be exposed for bribing his son with sweets. “Anything you want.”

“Double chocolate.” Bongbong says without hesitation when his father holds the door for everyone to get out. 

“Sure, double chocolate,” Jae agrees while you’re locking the daycare doors, “with chocolate sauce...”

“Yeaaaah!” His kid grins pleased with that small win. “Teacher, which flavour do you want?” Jae, who was starting to walk for his car, stops, suddenly frozen still. It seems his son misunderstood since you’re all leaving at the same time, “Buddy, I don’t think–”

“Daddy always eats cookie dough with chips in it…” Bongbong pulls his tongue out, unbothered. “No good!”

“Really?” You laugh and Jaehyung smiles despite himself, gazing at you a little too long. At least until he feels his face warm up, and he has to look elsewhere. You still haven’t moved to get to your own car. Should they walk you, or would that be too weird? “Strawberry ice cream is my favourite.” 

Bongbong’s whole face lights up and he offers you a thumbs up, approving. “Can teacher come with us, daddy? Pleaaaaase…” 

His son tugs at his hand, pleading, and Jae simply stares in awe. He didn’t expect this opportunity at all. “I, euh, I don’t know...” Jaebong’s got game. No wonder he’s the one with a girlfriend. “Do you want to join us for ice cream, Teacher y/n?” He risks, smiling dumbly when he says your actual name. Jae waits for your answer, heart racing as you toy with your keys. Shit, you’re hesitating. You’re probably weirded out by him even asking you that. Shit. Shit. He feels lightheaded, he’s about to make a joke to get out of it.

After an eternity, you choose to smile back, saying softly; “I never say no to ice cream, Mr Park.” Immediately, Bongbong cheers, starting to run for his father’s car without waiting for you two. 

Breathless, Jae hovers, dancing from one foot to the other; “It’s just Jae actually.”

“Jae.” You try, and a shiver runs down his spine. “I’m just y/n.”

“That’s settled then.” He tries to stop smiling by biting his lower lip, but he fails. “There’s only one more thing, y/n…”

“What?” You ask, obviously nervous as you both start walking to join Jaebong. 

“It’s not that I mind,” Jae inhales sharply, “But… Did you hurt your eye or–” You gasp in horror, realising something. “Oh my God!” Taking the pirate eyepatch off too fast, you get the elastic entangled in your hair. “That’s so embarrassing…” you groan, wincing. It must hurt when you pull at it, but in your panic, you don’t seem to mind at all. 

“It’s nothing,” Jae chuckles, choosing to ease you by making fun of himself, “imagine needing your 4-year-old to help you ask–”

“DADDYYYY!” Bongbong interrupts loudly, tugging at the car’s back door in repetition. “IT’S LOCKED!” He ruins the moment. “OPEEEN!”

Jae shuts his eyes, dispirited, and you burst out laughing, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. When you’re done, you roll your eyes at him and he shrugs, unlocking the doors with his remote. Perhaps Bongbong is still a bit too young to have reached his full potential as a wingman after all. One thing is sure though, thanks to him you’re getting ice cream together…

And it sounds like a much more promising Friday night than what Jae could’ve ever hoped for.

DAY6 | M.list

[thelastspeecher]

I was going through my de-aging tag on my writing blog because I was in the mood for some cute de-aging fluff, and rediscovered my De-Aged Ford AU.  My De-Aged Ford AU sort of kind of served as the basis for my Recoil fic, but they do vary a bit.  Here’s the tag for it on my writing blog.

Anyways, as I was reading, I remembered that I started writing a scene that took place after Fidds had been aged from a baby to a tot, but I never finished it.  And so I decided to finish it.  Here it is.  Some smol Fidds for your soul.  Enjoy.  Note: This takes place immediately following this ficlet.

——————————————————————————————

              Fiddleford sighed.  He was sitting on the floor of the living room, ignoring the television currently on.

              “What was that for?” Stan grunted from his seat in the armchair.

              “I’m bored,” Fiddleford whined.  He knew his tone was petulant, but he didn’t care at this point.  Ford and Lute had been gone for much longer than expected.

              “You don’t like what’s on?” Stan asked.  Fiddleford looked at the TV.  The channel it was turned to was ESPN.

              “No.”

              “Fine.”  Stan clicked the remote.  The TV skipped through a series of channels before landing on a cartoon.  “Here.  Scooby-Doo reruns.  How’s that?” Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

              “Stanley, I ain’t-”  He stopped, his eyes widening at Scooby-Doo being led somewhere with a Scooby Snack. “Ooh.”  Fiddleford laid down on the floor and propped himself up on his elbows. “I want a Scooby Snack,” he said offhandedly.  Stan chuckled.

              “Same, kid.”  Fiddleford was too distracted by the adventures of the Mystery Crew to point out that, under normal circumstances, he was actually a few years older than Stan. Angie walked into the living room. She glanced at Fiddleford, enraptured by the TV, then raised an eyebrow at Stan in a silent question.  “He didn’t like football, so I changed the channel. Guess he likes cartoons more.”  On the TV, laws of physics were suddenly defied by Scooby-Doo and Shaggy as they ran off a cliff and tread air for a few moments.  Fiddleford laughed.  Stan’s mouth quirked into a small smile.  “Can’t really blame him.”  The front door opened.

              “Hello?” Ford called.

              “Living room!” Stan shouted back.  Ford rushed into the living room.  He held up a bag of candy.

              “Lute bought me the good jelly beans,” Ford said proudly.

              “Shh!” Fiddleford said, waving a hand in Ford’s direction.  His eyes were still glued to the screen.  Ford blinked.

              “Fidds?”

              “Shh!  They’re goin’ to find out who was behind the hauntin’!” Fiddleford said.  Stan turned off the TV.  Fiddleford let out a small yelp.  “Hey!”

              “Ford and Lute are back,” Stan said.  “We need to figure out what we’re doing next.”

              “But-”

              “Scooby-Doo can wait,” Angie said patiently.  Fiddleford huffed in frustration.  Ford took a seat on the floor next to Fiddleford.

              “Want one?” Ford asked politely, showing Fiddleford his bag of jelly beans. Fiddleford shook his head. “Good.  More for me.”  Ford tore open the bag.  “It’s good to have you back, Fidds,” Ford said.  He popped a few jelly beans into his mouth.  “I was worried about what would happen, once you got re-aged. Would your mind still be there? Or would it not?  Actually, how aware of things were you?  It couldn’t have been enjoyable, if you were aware. I mean, you were a baby.”

              “Swallow,” Angie said, “then talk.  No talkin’ while yer chewin’.”  Ford rolled his eyes, but swallowed the candy.

              “Fine, mom,” Ford muttered. Fiddleford sat up.  He stared at Ford.

              “Why would ya call her that?  She’s my lil sister!  She’s younger ‘n you!”

              “Yes, but she’s also acting like a mom,” Ford said.  He took a white jelly bean out of the bag, inspected it carefully, and then put it back into the bag.  Lute entered the living room with a bunch of plastic bags.

              “Ya best not be spoilin’ yer lunch with candy,” Lute said.  Ford set the bag of jelly beans down on the floor.

              “No…”

              “How ya feelin’, Fidds?” Lute asked, ignoring Ford’s obvious lying. Fiddleford shrugged.

              “Bored.  Stan put my toolbox out of reach, so I don’t have much to do.”

              “You can help in the lab with me,” Ford suggested.

              “Uh, no,” Lute said.  “Fidds is too tiny.  It ain’t safe in the lab fer a toddler.”  Fiddleford looked at Lute.

              “But Stanford gets to help?”

              “He’s eight.  Yer ‘bout two.  That’s a difference of six years,” Lute explained.  “And anyways, Ford doesn’t help out as much in the lab as he’s implyin’. Angie has him help her fer an hour a day, tops, then sends him back to us.  A lab is a dangerous place fer kidlets.”

              “What am I s’pposed to do all day, then?” Fiddleford demanded.  Lute grinned.  He dropped one of the bags he was holding onto the ground and nudged over to Fiddleford with his foot.

              “Ford brought up that exact question.  It’s part of the reason we were gone so long.  We had to find somethin’ that would occupy ya.”  Fiddleford looked in the bag.  “Whattaya think?”

              “Really?” Fiddleford grumbled.  He reached in and retrieved a plastic screwdriver.  “Really?  Ya thought this would make me feel better?  Playin’ engineer?  I have a master’s degree!”

              “Think of it as a challenge,” Angie suggested.  “If ya can make a killer robot usin’ child’s toys, yer really the top of yer game.”

              “No,” Fiddleford said shortly.  He removed the other plastic tools from the bag, as well as a toy toolbox. “Seriously, what can I do with this? Nothin’!”

              “Sounds like a challenge to me,” Stan said.  Fiddleford crossed his arms, pouting fiercely.  “Don’t act like that, Sticks.”

              “Don’t call me Sticks.”

              “No dice, pipsqueak.  I already got used to calling you that.”

              “But that’s-” Fiddleford started.  Angie cleared her throat.  All heads turned in her direction.  “Yes, Angie?”

              “Now that Stanford ‘n Lute ‘re back, we can have some lunch.  Lute, care to put away what you purchased?  Stan ‘n I will handle feedin’ the boys.”

              “You got it,” Lute said with a salute.  He put the toy tools back in the plastic bag and picked it up.  As he strolled away, whistling, Fiddleford began to get to his feet, only to feel himself being lifted in the air. Fiddleford let out a squeak of protest.

              “I’m too hungry to wait for you to crawl to the kitchen,” Stan said.  He was the one who had picked up Fiddleford, and slightly adjusted his hold, so that Fiddleford was partially sitting on Stan’s arm.  Fiddleford looked down at the ground, which was much further away from him than he wanted. He quickly grabbed fistfuls of Stan’s shirt to steady himself.  When he and Stan arrived at the kitchen, Ford was already sitting at the table, devouring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  A similar but smaller sandwich rested on the tray of the high-chair by the table.

              “No,” Fiddleford whined as Stan headed for the high-chair.  He tightened his grip on Stan’s shirt, but Stan easily pulled him off and placed him into the high-chair.  Fiddleford pouted at him.  Stan frowned thoughtfully.  “…What?”

              “Something’s missing,” Stan said.  His expression brightened.  “Oh!” Stan stepped away.  Fiddleford sighed and picked up his sandwich. Before he could take a bite, Stan returned, holding a bib.  “Gotta keep your clothes clean.”

              “What?  No!  I’m not wearing that!” Fiddleford protested. Stan ignored him.  He began to fasten the bib around Fiddleford’s neck. Panicking, Fiddleford threw his sandwich at him.  The sandwich hit Stan’s face soundly, smearing peanut butter and jelly on his nose and chin before falling to the ground with a muffled slap.  Both Stan and Fiddleford froze.

              “What-” Angie started, turning away from the counter.  Her eyes widened.  “Fidds!”

              “He was trying to put a bib on me!” Fiddleford whined.  Angie propped her hand on her hip.  Fiddleford recognized the gesture.  It was the same one their ma made when she was frustrated. “I refuse to be treated like a child.”

              “I’m not angry, don’t worry,” Stan said, finally unfreezing.  He wiped the smears of food off his face with his sleeve.  Angie sighed.

              “I ain’t makin’ another sandwich.  Stan, you aggravated him.  You can make him his lunch.”

              “What?  But-”

              “No buts,” Angie said firmly.  “You were tryin’ to get his goat, to see what he would tolerate.  Don’t act like ya weren’t.”

              “That’s not the whole reason,” Stan mumbled.  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “I thought it’d be cute.”  Ford, finished with his sandwich and now eating carrot sticks, sniggered.

              “Whatever.”  Angie crossed her arms.  “Make him somethin’ easy to eat and not too tough on his tummy.  I’m goin’ to…I don’t know.  Just stare at the wall fer a bit.”  She stomped out of the room, muttering.

              “Is Angie all right?” Fiddleford asked quietly.  Stan picked the sandwich off the floor and tossed it in the trash.

              “She’s a bit overworked, I think,” Ford replied.  Stan, already looking at the contents of the fridge, nodded.

              “Lute and I are doing most of the kid stuff, but she’s doing all the science and still has to make dinner.”

              “Not to mention, you’ve requested her help with some childcare situations,” Ford added.  Stan removed a container of applesauce from the fridge, brought it over to the counter, and took a bowl out of the cupboard.

              “Yeah.  Like the last time we needed her to step in.”  Stan looked over at Ford.  “Or did you forget that you were the reason we needed backup?”  Ford turned red.

              “What happened?” Fiddleford asked.  Ford flushed more.

              “He got stuck,” Stan grunted.  Ford poked at the carrot sticks still on his plate.  “I took him out back to let him run off some energy.  Turned my back on him for two seconds and then he was up a tree.  And too scared to come down on his own.  Lute was at the grocery store with you, Sticks, and I can’t climb worth a damn. So I had to grab Angie.  She shimmied up the tree and brought him down right away, but she was pissed.”

              “I can imagine,” Fiddleford mumbled.  Stan placed a small bowl of applesauce on the high-chair tray.  “…That’s it?”

              “Yep.”  Stan put a small, plastic spoon in the bowl.  “Enjoy.”  Fiddleford scowled, but ate the applesauce nonetheless.  Some time passed in silence, as Ford and Fiddleford ate and Stan washed dishes.  Finally, Ford hopped off his chair.

              “I’m going to go find Angie,” Ford announced.  “She might need some assistance in the lab.”

              “If she says no, come back,” Stan instructed.  “We’ll need to revamp our plans for tomorrow, now that Sticks isn’t a baby.”  Ford nodded and rushed away.

              “What were the original plans fer tomorrow?” Fiddleford asked, struggling to spoon up the last of his applesauce.  Giving up, he scooped the applesauce up with his fingers and sucked on his hand.

              “There’s this baby club in the park.  Lute liked taking you there.  I’d come and watch Ford scamper around the playground.”  Finished sucking the applesauce off his hand, Fiddleford pulled his fingers from his mouth.  “Hmm. I think Lute wanted to take you to the library later today, actually.  That’s probably cancelled.”

              “I’d think so.”  Fiddleford yawned.  “I’m not going to attend any baby activities.”  Fiddleford rubbed his eyes.  Stan looked over at him.  A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

              “Tired?”

              “Yes.  But I don’t know why.”

              “You’re a toddler.  You probably need a nap,” Stan pointed out.  Fiddleford’s protest was cut off by another yawn.  “Yep.  It’s naptime. C’mere, Sticks.”

              “Don’t call me that,” Fiddleford mumbled.  Stan removed him from the high-chair.  Fiddleford rested his head on Stan’s chest.  Stan’s T-shirt was soft, warm, and smelled clean.

              Angie and Lute must have made him wash his clothes.  Fiddleford’s eyes drooped.  Stan ruffled his hair.  Fiddleford’s eyes closed.

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅴ : ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʏᴅᴇ

” – We do not ask that all Guardians fight. That is a choice for them to make their selves, and in doing so, your decision to make, as well. We cannot ask you to risk life after life, fighting for something you do not believe in. But if I might be able to give one simple request -- think it over, Guardian. 

There is none to stop you. Nor will we see you as any less.“

. . .

" I don't want to talk about it right now. "

Like a blanket did uneasiness wrap around her being, snug and tight as words played back in rhythm to her mind. A gnawing ache, something that didn't feel the same way they were spoken, that there was something between the lines she was missing and gods for it, she didn't have the patience nor energy to try. 

Part of her wanted to dismiss it all, that it was just revival jitters - revival jitters? is that what she's calling it? already poorly accepting the idea after several days that she had indeed died, and was brought back, all in the span of a blinking light that followed her every move. That no one in their right mind would be comfortable with something so jarring, that it was natural to be afraid and paranoid of what was to come. Not everyone would jump into a war so willingly, not unless they were truly involved or hampered. Right?

Or was this just her failure attempt to turn a blind eye, a deafen ear to the remains of what had been this planet. This species, he had called it. If so much was at the brink of destruction... why bother coating it in sugar-filled lies that it was an option, that it was a choice, that there fell no consequence to those who refused or did not understand enough to lay themselves proper to the cause? 

Nothing came without bargain. Nothing came without consequence. So why?

A memorizing mess of critical thinking and auto-pilot motive, not even conscious to where her feet had led her next after leaving the Commander out in his perch. No, she just wanted to go away - to breathe fresh air, one that wasn't taint by some means of authority that wanted to treat her idle. That perhaps, indefinitely, that coming to the City would be a mistake, and that she'd feel more comfortable being back in the hole she died in. 

Hah. 

To die and stay dead, that was what their species had meant to do, and yet some foreign object decides to tell them otherwise. An entity these people seemingly knew little about, and yet trusted it so much with everything in their being. It was an absolutely terrifying thought - to put everything into the unknown. Or was it that she was just so closed out in accepting something naturally common - that all of this, was how the world worked. That it was she, who wasn't making sense and making a mess of things. 

     Clarity, where are  you?

Disgruntled features lured to the sounds of panned metal and tools, it is a subconscious effort to silence her own mind. Through several stairwells and open guard rails to the sky, lights sparking upon ships and carriers that failed to detail in her peripheral. The Awoken had come across the Hanger -- a place still untraveled as feet carry her between poles and support, looking for any reason to procrastinate her mind. A blur of people, each without distinct features as she felt her head dizzy, just continue walking forward, you're bound to get somewhere. Anywhere far from the pull of the Light, unwillingly to accept that it walked each step with her, always there -- always fleeting.

" Hey -- Hey! You!     Aye, watch it, you're gonna -- ! "

It's a slice of air that grazes her face that brings her back to the present, doe-eyed features blinking betwixt mechanical pieces that flew inches from her face. Her breath, stalled beneath her throat as a step is taken back instinctively, putting space between she and the injured ship as tools rocked back and forth, pushing out dents and rubbing out scars of war. Had she taken a step too forward, it would have been off with her head -- another mess completely, to add to the list of damages and cosmetics to whomever was waiting their repairs.

Where... was she, again?

" Whoah we geez, louise! What are ya, deaf? You nearly got yourself ping-ponged across the room! "

That voice again - attention turned in favor to its' keeper, a cloaked Exo with narrowing blue optics and face plates to match. Yet compared to Bex and few others she had run into thus far, admittedly far detailed in its' face and expression, a light orange hue igniting in the back of its' throat as it panted in sprint towards her being. 

" I'm all for you guys playin' your games and dares, but, can ya keep it outta the work space? Please? Amanda's done bickered me to death about leaving tools and Hunters around, getting in the way and all -- speaking of which, you're missing your cloak, hurt my feelings a bit but I'll forgive you just this once -- " it blinks, male tone scraping each syllable as it examined Selene head to toe, " --You, are a Hunter, right? Or did Ikora send you? Did she send you? Man, she really doesn't believe in my work ethnic, does she? I told her, I'm stayin here for at least a day - theeen maybe a little road trip, nothin too detailed, but I mean if you want work done, gotta do it yourself, you know? "

" I..- ? "

It was a desperate attempt to keep up with the man at this point, nerves suddenly overtaking the body once more as she gripped tightly at the shirts' end of stomach, unable to keep her eyes still and her breathing paced. Who was this guy? And why did he talk so... much?

" I don't... I-Ikora didn't send me, I - "

" Oh? She didn't? Good, good... wait -- but you're Awoken. Did Mara send you? Is she back? Is she here, on Earth, right now? "

" I -- who?? "

A blink -- servo optics taking a moment before squinting back at her. The Exo raises a hand before speaking again, index finger pointed in her general direction as he began to play out the riddle he'd wrap himself about.

" You're... joking? Right? ... Not, joking? Not joking. That's -- unfortunate. "

" I don't... understand what you're talking about... "

" Then we're at least on the same page, " he gives a half single nod, voice having picked up some, as if impressed. " Okay, okay. You... Ikora didn't send you. Mara didn't send you. Look too... nah, Zavala woulda sent someone bigger. Meaner, too. So that would make you... new? " an uncertainty upon last word, he tilts his head in favor of hearing her out. Like a child, waiting for approval to something truly magnificent.

" I'm... I.. guess? " Selene speaks, brows furrowing up and down in perplexed confusion, shrugging shoulders as she did so but not a finger lifted from the fabric that kept her steady. " I just got to the Tower a few days ago, and I've... talked? to Ikora? and Zav..la? B-But I'm... I don't.. "

"  Wait, wait. Hold on, " the Exo interrupts, realigning his posture and waving his hands in front of himself. " You've already talked to Ikora AND Zavala? And you're new? And we're JUST now meeting? Am I getting this right? "

" Uh... "

" Which means, out of all the important people you've met so far - what about the bird lady? "

" Hawthorne? "

" Weapons? "

" Uh... Ban... Banshee? "

" Old man who never shuts up? "

" He.. he's near Banshee?? "

" Crucible!? "

" The ... man who... yells a lot...? "

" And we're JUST now getting to me? I'm last?! Oh, come on -- " the Exo spirals, flinging his arms in the air as if distressed. Never mind the hurt that sounded in his voice over the matter, as if things had been terribly out of order. " I'm the best one here! And they, none of them -- neither of them mentioned me? Cayde? The Hunter Vanguard? The Golden Gun? The big head honcho himself? "

" Isn't... I thought, Zavala was -- "

" Yeah, yeah, sure, " the Exo waves his hands again, quickly dismissing the clarification. " Big Blue, Command, whatever - but me? I'm the cool guy. I'm the one everyone wants to meet. I'm the voice of reason here! "

That was... saying a lot.

" Ikora mentioned there was three Vanguard... " Selene tries to speak again, this time, parting her sentences in case there was more to be said from the other. " You... You said your name is Cayde, right? So you're the third... the Hunter? "

" Awh, come on. When you say it like that, it's like I'm bottom barrel here. But yes, the names' Cayde, Cayde-6 if you wanna get technical, but not aimin any higher than that. Hunter Vanguard, at your service, " he gives a slight bow, rolling a wrist at his chest while other extends outward.  " And you would be? "

Another chilling clump of empty drops in her stomach at the question, causing only for her knuckles to white as she tugs gently at the ends of her shirt. What point to exchange names, if she was just going to turn into another blur of faces that would come one after the other...

" ...M' Selene. "

" Selene? That's a pretty name. Pretty name for a ... well, I'm sure you got a pretty face when its' not all pensive like that, " the Vanguard comments, tilting his head as he spoke. " How long you been here Selene? Gotta be a few days if Zavala's rubbin' off on ya already. He convince ya into runnin through as a Titan yet? 'Cuz I'm always open to new recruits. Trainings' easy, bounties are subpar, first capes' free and mighty delicate if I do say so myself. Not to mention, we Hunters are the better blend of talent and style when compared to the rest. -- Just, don't tell Ikora I said that. "

" I'm.. n-no. I haven't.. I don't actually.. " 

So much talking. It was impossible to catch every word, every question -- it was so loud. 

Brows pinching upon forehead at the thought, at this point her cheeks began to swell at how clamped her teeth were on the subject. Throat dry from lack of air and breath, her chest felt shallow and her stomach a black pit. Her legs felt heavier than stone, her feet glued to the ground and shoulders so far raised that she'd hardly notice the muscle ache in time.

" ...You ok, kid? "

Had she taken too long to answer?

" Hey. Let's uh... let's wait on all that. Sound good? Lets' get somewhere less crowded. "

Less crowded...? Yeah. That sounded good.

A shaken nod given in response, and she's following the Hunter elsewhere without any further exchange. Focusing on the back of his cloak as they moved, the single red streak upon a tattered brown is what allows her to collect her thoughts as they walked. Forging better words to use for when they were at given destination, that perhaps this time, she'd be able to speak proper and answer quickly instead of acting like some sort of ran over rodent. Little thought to the rips and tears of ones' attire... the fabric itself, speaking louder than any speech the other two Vanguard could have made to convince her the state of denial.

The man before her had fought. And it showed.

Several paces more before he's turning on a heel and causing her to stutter-step her brakes, the Exo looking between she and a door in the distance. As if hesitant on whether to turn back, or continue. Selene remains ever blank in her expression, unsure of how to necessarily respond upon action.

" Here, uhhh... stay right there for a minute, would ya? " Cayde motions, rounding his hands in two finger guns as he addresses his newly found company. " Gotta, lemme... I'll be right back. "

With a hop in his step, the Hunter approaches the door with a swing, the sound of shuffling belongings and metal scraping bleeding into the background of already working mechanics. There's noises that didn't seem too out the ordinary, and then there is the brief shatter of broken glass that comes from the room, followed by inaudible self-talking and sounds of what could only be described as a broom. Selene tilting her head briefly in curiosity -- whether she should check to see if the Vanguard was okay, or if he needed help... --

" Okay! "

Apparently not.

Sliding his hands together as if job well done, the Exo walks out of the room but remains close to its' door. A motion movement for the other to follow, and the Awoken is once more following without inquiring further. The room that had been disoriented, something make-shift of a small cubical office, almost, with several boxes stacked to the ceiling and a fallen over filing cabinet that seemed way out of date. Little shimmers of glass residual still on the floor, nothing that would hamper past her boots but all the same. A snug fit with the desk that had been shoved into place, but it seemed just a little bit quieter than the outside.

" Don't uh... Don't mind the mess. S'uh... storage. Not really much of an office guy. "

He speaks, but it doesn't register to her until after she's in the room and sitting upon the desk to relieve the weight of her legs. Her chest still ultimately heavy, she prioritizes the need to calm down before looking up and over at the other, still remaining against the open door way with arms crossed at his chest. His own attention darting between she and the commotion outside throughout the Hanger.

" ...Th-Thank you, by the way. "

Her voice provokes the attention of the Hunter for a moment, unresponsive aside from a gentle stare back through glowing vision that was shared among all Exo units. As if kept in thought, before giving a nod, turning his head back to the Hanger but his voice still reflecting back into the room.

" Don't worry 'bout it, " his voice carries an accent, but she can't tell in what narrative. Only that its' mildly comforting... as if talking to just another human being. No Light or titles, here. " It's a mess, but, can use this room whenever you need it. Stays unlocked, don't really use it for m'self... too many places to be to sit around. But uh... whenever you wanna talk, " he offers, again rolling one wrist out of the tuck of his chest as he motioned, " Jus' lemme know. When you're ready, that is. No rush -- can leave ya be, if it helps. "

" N-No... that's okay, " she quickly denies the idea of being alone, shaking her head at the thought. Chest ever lighter by the minute, the sounds of repairs dull out and for the first time since leaving the courtyard, she can hear herself speak. " I think I'm okay to talk now... to uh... answer questions again. "

" You sure? "

" Yeah... I'm sure. "

A temporary silence, followed by exhaled huff, Cayde pries himself off the frame of the door while unfolding arms to his sides. Walking over to where several boxes stacked, he pulls out a fold-able chair, a dented, rusted mess but still to do the job. With a heavy flick of the wrist, it folds out and stomps against the metal flooring, flakes of decay and time cracking upon the weight as he sat, legs cocked over as he sat stomach-side against the back of the chair, arms folded upon its' height. His rebellious nature already ringing like a golden light in a pit of dark, receiving a risen brow from the Awoken whom refused to discuss concern with words.

" Lets start over. Th' names Cayde. I'm the Hunter Vanguard here, not really by choice - but, y'know, previous Vanguard decided to croak and we had this dare, and, one thing led to another -- so I'm here now. Zavala's prized treasure, whether he wants to be the bigger man and admit it or not. "

The later comment resulting in a stiffed chuckle from Selene -- she processes his words easier now to detail. Mulling between the man known as Cayde and his relationship with the rest of the Vanguard, between his own words and that of context clues generated from the rest. She begins to see why Hawthorne had left his title... open.

" Selene... I uh... woke up in a sink hole... and was found by a group of others who brought me here. "

" A sink hole? Nice, nice. Well, at least the initial fall didn't bang ya up too bad. You're lookin' good! "

" Th-Thanks... I think...? " her head tilts, though lips curve upward into a half-smile, biting back another chuckle. " I don't... really know how all this works still. Aside from what a few others have told me... and what my Ghost has told me. "

" So you do have a Ghost! Where is the lil' guy? Girl? Some of them have a preference -- like mine has this preference that I stop doing certain things. That I will certainly not stop doing. "

" It's... uh... he? I don't... really know... " Selene attempts to comprehend, the habit of ones' company still something she wasn't entirely certain on whether it was consistently around or if it held other matters on its' own. " It just... shows up sometimes. "

" -- Really, all you need to do is ask, " comes the familiar tone, a flash of light illuminating the office as if on queue. The glimmering white of its' shell rattling as optic scans their surroundings. " Ah, you found someone else? "

" Aw, aren't you cute, " Cayde greets, " Got yourself a sassy one there. That'll make things fun. "

" I'm... what? " the Ghost tilted, the back of its' shell whirling in brief puzzlement.

" Nah, nothin. Don’t worry about it, " the Exo dismisses, flinging a hand. " I'm sure you guys'll get along great. Perfect match for one another. Just gotta work out the speed bumps. "

" You have one too, right? " Selene perks, attention held upon the Ghost as it hovered around her space. The question bringing to light a secondary Ghost in the room - this one carrying red and gold accents upon pallid shell. Gears rotating as it floated next to the sitting Vanguard, quietly.

" Sure do! Names' Sundance. She's a bit picky about who she talks around though. No hard feelins. "

As quickly as she had appeared, the Ghost then dismissing herself back into the pocket space. Selene's own ghost deciding to stick around for the time being, the Awokens' attention placed back upon the Hunter across from her. 

" How long have you two... been, y'know... "

The question rests upon her tongue, but is quickly deciphered by the Exo as his head tilts side to side at the thought. Searching for the proper way to say a long time, without it being vague enough... being apart of first generation Risen was... man, when was his birthday again?

" Sundance and I? We go way back. Before everything uh... well. I guess it'd be during, given that I did make it out alive... ugh. Such miserable place. But uh -- yeah! We go waaay back. Long time to tell. Ran outta birthdays once you go pass a hundred. "

" You're over a hundred years old? " Selene squints, almost as if not believing him at first.

" You think I'm old? Hah! Man... You should meet some of Saladin's friends. They're ancient. Dinosaurs, really. "

" I... I mean... I'd ask how, but... "

" Right? Amazing what kinda life goals you can finish when you don't have deadline anymore. Only con' about it is ya gotta make new goals. Me? Gave up already. Just take one day at a time. " 

" That's... crazy, " she shakes her head, processing but not open to the idea at first. A falsehood of immortality, resting upon her fingertips at the generosity of the machine that sat next to her. Foreboding, really.

" It's not all that bad. Just takes some time getting use to! Trust me, still throws me in a loop some days. Dependin' how hard I hit my head, ya know? "

" Makes sense, I guess. "

" Most of the time, " Cayde corrects, " Sometimes it makes no sense at all, and that's where I leave it to Ashir Mir. Complete nutcase, don't recommend getting caught up in his little Vex-obsession. You'll never hear the end of it. "

" I'll keep that in mind, " Selene chuckles, nodding. Though she's unfamiliar with the name just yet -- it seems there's a handful of people to better keep an eye on. " The uhm... Vanguard. How does it.. work? "

" Eh? "

" You asked me if I spoke with Zavala about being a Titan... and, Hawthorne's mentioned Warlocks, and Hunters... and how to harness Light into power, and it's just one big... mess of information to me. I don't think I understand how it works, " she admits.

" Oooh. That stuff. It's like uh... like ones' true calling. Titan's calling is... beating things up in a vicious matter, " he clamps a fist against open hand, emphasizing their might, " Warlocks are mooore... concerned? Careful people -- too careful, just, never get anything done, " another roll of wrist to continue moving in the conversation -- " But Hunters? We get things done and look good doing it. And if I know a Hunter when I see one -- you? " he then points, leaning forward against the back of the chair with a childish glint in the optics, " Ten outta ten, you'd wear a cape like a champ. "

" Is this another one of those recruitment ads? " the Ghost chimes in.

" Recruitment? What, like this is some sorta army or somethin'? " Cayde replies back, tone lingering on the offensive. " I know a Hunter when I see one. And your pick of the litter? She'd do great. Maybe even best me one day! Then she'd be the Vanguard and I get my adventures back without Zavala breathing down my back! "

" I don't... I think we're getting too far ahead -- " Selene tries to intercept, a notation of moving back a smudge against the desk as head bobs side to side as if looking for an exit strategy. The mere act provoking a chuckle out of the Exo as he waved a hand in dismiss.

" I'm joking, joking! But man -- you find anyone who wants this job, you let me know. "

" Is being part of the Vanguard really that much? " the Ghost continues, amplifying the curiosity in the room. The Exo once more mulling words over in his skull, taking the energy to keep things simple and civil.

" Nah. Great job, great people - would be even greater if I had my Light back. But I miss being out on the field - going on my own. Finding new places to hide caches... writing love letters to the next big bad who wants to try and chase this sweet piece of metal down, knowing full well it'll be a bullet between the eyes if they even got remotely close. Man -- it's like missing your teenage years all over again. "

" Ikora mentioned a lot of .. Guardians, they don't have their Light right now, ever since the war against the... what were they called... "

" Ghaul, " Cayde fills in immediately, tone suddenly shifting in a more serious note. " He and his Cabal army wrecked the place. And with it, our connection to the Traveler. He's not only taken our Light, but he's taken too many of our men. Our women. Kids. We've lost too much to that ugly rhino in the sky and I'll be damned we lose anymore before I get my hands on him. One death I wouldn't mind being my last. "

" Last? " 

" Ikora didn't fill you end on that bit? Without our Light, those little guys are just Christmas decorations, " he then points over towards the Ghost, giving a minor shrug. " Plus, those who got caught out, the Cabal made sure of getting rid of the collateral.. "

" They killed their Ghost, too, " the Ghost speaks, shook. Selene having turned her head to and fro between it and Cayde, the grimace upon Exo features sharing enough that it was the correct lead way to ones' ' collateral control '. A shiver running down her spine, throat swallowing a lump of air that wished to stay around longer than it was welcomed. 

" If you guys don't have that... your Light, it puts both of you at risk, right? So whose fighting out there right now? "

" What we got left, " Cayde answers bluntly, tone more somber than the previous. " Guardians, Humans -- if we  don't fight, no one else surely will. All we got are enemies, and with or without our Light? We ain't gonna let them take what's ours. Not if we still have a chance. "

" So even without it... " Selene speaks quietly, attention dropping temporarily.

" We are more than just our Light. Regardless of what anyone else thinks, " the Hunter states, standing up from his chair and putting it aside. " Some people might not think so... but it doesn't matter what they think. It's what we know. What I know. "

Within a moment, Selene feels herself sink again -- unable to tell whether or not this was about to turn into another reason for her to decide something impossible. That this Hunter would turn just as the other two had, telling her to consider the choice. As if options were on the table with see-through glass that shone the inevitable. A brace for further turmoil... crossed arms make for her wrist as nails dig at her skin.

" For instance, " Cayde continues, pointing a daunting finger in her direction, " I know that you'll do great, Selene. And I mean that. I'm not typically a partner type of guy... but we need all the help we can get. And you? I wouldn't mind having another Hunter at my side I can trust. 

I'm not looking to replace the men I've lost. And I've lost a lot of great Guardians. Ones I can tell you story after story after story. But I'm looking for the next future of Guardians that'll keep those stories alive. Those who can help me keep their memory alive. You get me? "

It strikes differently, an unexpected wave of relation bubbling in her stomach like an erupting volcano. Her chest, unlike the cold that caressed her body in doubt, now in a warmth of understanding -- of clarification of what has to be done. He makes it sound less of a soldier to the field, and more of a obligated duty to those who had fallen. And while it doesn't make the idea of war more welcoming, it helps her understand that the Light in her chest is something... more, than just burden. It's responsibility, whether she wanted it or not. And that there were people out there like him -- those who genuinely wanted to use it for good, and not just for the front line. To tell stories -- to survive. To build.

It's not something she immediately cooperates with, but she can't help but feel... persuaded.

" You really think I can help make a difference...? "

" I know you'll make a difference. Maybe not to me, or the Vanguard. But you'll make a difference where it's needed. Feel it in m' gut, " he taps, the sound of steel exterior thudding beneath leather armor. " So how 'bout it? Am I getting you a short cut cape or long one, what'll it be? "

Was it required, the cape?

A brief glance towards his own, she takes a moment to picture both the physique and weight of one on her shoulders. The tension easing the moment she realizes just how pensive she's been this whole time -- shoulders only now drifting downward in relax moment. Did the size matter? Color? Emblem? What was it to a Hunter, their cape...?

" I guess... surprise me? " 

Indecisive demeanor, the Exo does a single clap and following finger-gun pointed motion before walking over to one of the cardboard boxes -- digging through the contents before throwing a randomized ball of fabric her way. Having caught the Awoken off guard as she emits a surprised squeak -- clasping the ball in her hands while trying not to fall backwards against the desk. It doesn't click as to what's between her hands until after the Exo speaks again, startled daze still tracking between gift and delivery.

" Surprise! There, outta the way -- now, next step, somethin to protect yourself. I got uhh, spare knifes, a few cannons... Amanda should have that rifle I gave her, gotta go ask about that one -- Do me a favor wouldja? Check that box behind you, should have some used belts with holsters. Grab a few. "

" I -- what? -- okay? " it's not enough to ask questions back, placing the balled-up cape next to her before turning around and sliding over to said box. It seemed it was not to be taken lightly when he had mentioned this was now a storage room -- dusted gear stacked upon stacked as she tugged one belt to acquire two more. How... many belts did she need again?

" You got a preference in firepower, Selene? " he throws the question over as he walks over toward the knocked over cabinet, attempting to pry its' contents with a few tugs before brute forcing the top drawer open. A few hand cannons slipping out, one seemingly still loaded as the impact flicks the trigger, firing off a single bullet across the ground -- its sound startling both the Awoken upon table and Exo on floor, whom instinctively jumped in place to avoid any unnecessary damages to his kicks. " -- Ah, musta took the safety off that one, yikes. "

" I uh... never... shot a gun, " her voices still shaking with the panicked hic from fired bullet, the next sound to make her jump is the Exo aggressively placing down one of the retrieved weapons from drawer against the top of the desk.

" Got it! Hand cannon for beginners then we'll work ya up to whatever feels natural! -- Now, if that's all good to go - Ghost! You revive her yet since the sink hole? “

" No? " the shell tilts.

" Good! Look at you two, already doing great, " Cayde exclaimed, walking over toward the door with fingers locked together -- a motion of cracking ones knuckles, if he had them, pushing the force out from his chest then dropping his arms back to his sides, quickly to be reformed with one hand on the hip and another reaching for his own hand cannon, giving it a twirl from the holster before loading a bullet. " Best way to learn is to do, am I right? Come on, kiddo -- we're going shooting practice. "

" R-Right now??? " 

" What, you wanna think on it and turn back into a bubblin' mess? Trust me. The faster you act the less you think and the less freaked out you are. We can have another heart to heart later if you really want to but while the fires' hot lets goooooo. "

It was... chaotic, to say the least. How quickly the demeanor had changed from crisis to, well, this. But in every right mind of the statement... she couldn't help but admit he was right. If she was going to go for this, there was no need to slow down if it was going to give her reason to lock down again. And who knew with how busy a schedule the Vanguard had... did they have schedules? Cayde seemed to have a schedule. That, when would be the most opportune time to learn both the groups of survival and that of a Guardian in whole. 

He made it sound as if he was rarely ever at the Tower without reason.

Might as well take advantage where it was given... right?

" I'm.. -- okay -- I'm coming, " she stammers, fumbling over the now crowded desk with a handful of belts, cloak and gun -- the last being remotely hesitant before locking her hands around its' grip safely and following the Vanguard out. 

With as much confidence that steered from the Hunter Vanguard as he walked, few words exchanged with several others as they made their way out of the Hanger, Selene couldn't help but feel... recognized. Something that lacked upon the meeting of other two Vanguard, that maybe he was right in where this is where she belonged. Regardless of what the others thought, subtle cues of recommending she stay away from the Hunter and that he was eccentric. It might've been the best example she needed if she wanted to get through this -- taming her Light and her purpose.

Today, she was making a decision.

Today -- she would become a Hunter.

[gotatext]

 hello, its nora (she/her, gmt) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck). raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget tho so pls message me x

application template.

『ELLE FANNING ❙ CIS-FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM is here for HER JUNIOR year as a CLASSICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be RESILIENT, MAGNETIC, CALLOUS & PROUD. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ NORA. 24. GMT. SHE/HER.

aesthetics.

a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake. 

proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence

the short form.

— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into radcliffe but she made an impression.... like... super fast and in her sophomore year she was upgraded to perkins accomodation n a paid scholarship bcos i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or.

—  born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.

— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.

— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.

— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.

— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive

— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress

— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.

plots.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends –  probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

people who live in perkins n feel like they r constantly competing with one another to keep their place as one of the #elite only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen

honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own  eyeballs out bc of it

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

A SECRET SOCIETY !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners OR alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

full biography.

alma olive putnam.

intro.

         the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.

biography.

         if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.

         at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.

         your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.

         language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.

         fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.

         the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to radcliffe. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.

[maggotmouth]

         hello, its nora again ( she/her, gmt ) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck).  ive never used anya taylor joy as her fc before but anya has a smile that looks like she knows something u dont and thats completely alma’s vibe so we’re gonna try it out. she was raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget or get shy tho so pls message me x

application template.

ANYA TAYLOR - JOY   ,   CIS-FEMALE   ,   SHE/HER         →         according   to   the   school   records   ,   ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   three   years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around  the  sacred   heart   cathedral   ;   i   think   they   were   studying   the   stations   of   the   cross   with   a   smile   like   a   well - kept   secret.   at   twenty   -   one   years   old   ,   alma   has   been   studying   classics   and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   she   has   made   a   fortune   on   the   black   market   by   forging   renaissance   art   to   sell   to   collectors   —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with    neck   scarves   tied   around   your   throat   the   way   they   do   in   french   new   wave   films , running   barefoot   through   the   woods   drunk   on  red  wine   and  untapped   power , a  smile  like  a   locked   door   that   speaks   only  in   riddles  .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   have   encountered   any   unexplained   occurrences   .         (   written   by   nora   ,   24   ,   she/her   ,   gmt   )

aesthetics.

a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake.

proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence

the short form. (still long af tbh)

— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into sacred heart and the board really liked her in her interview. i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or st

—  born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.

— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.

— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.

— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.

— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive

— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress

—  an incredibly talented dancer. she was accepted to juliard to study ballet, but after an injury to her foot she had to refuse her place, something that she’s incredibly bitter about. she went to princeton instead to study classics for a semester, before being expelled. 

— alma comes from a family of high-end art dealers. while her parents paid her way into the school, that was mostly due to previous expulsions, not low intelligence. she’s incredibly intelligent but will only put in effort when she deems the cause worthy. she’s frustrating to teach, because she requires evidence, truth, in order to accept something as worthwhile. she plays devil’s advocate, but academically she’s brilliant. 

—  she can recognise any renaissance artist just by their brush strokes. her aunt and uncle deal antiques and art, and from an internship with them after her expulsion from princeton, she learned how to market and sell art, how to recognise originals in contrast to fakes. from this, alma began to produce counterfeit art and sell it off as the original work to the contacts she had made in her internship. it’s disloyal, but it’s powerful.

— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.

plots.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends –  probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own  eyeballs out bc of it

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

a secret society !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners or alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

full biography.

alma olive putnam.

intro.

        the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.

biography.

        if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.

        at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.

        your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.

        language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.

        fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.

        the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to sacred heart. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.

[thatssonanii]

House Party

Bloodline Family Series

Parties were pretty much an every weekend thing for Eli, Koda and Milo. Sometimes during the week too. But they never had their own. For almost a month, the cousins planned their party. Trinity and Jimmy were going to be out of town about an hour away, all their siblings were going to be with Grandpa King and Nana. Koda and Milo weren't sure where their parents would be but they knew they'd take the alone time.

"You're really gonna use Auntie Trin's glass punch bowl? Didn't we buy one from the store?" Milo asked walking into the kitchen.

Eli shrugged. "It was cracked. This is good, she never uses it anyway."

Milo shrugged emptying the snacks into the other party bowls they'd brought. Koda was lining sodas up on the counter.

"I found the beer your dad hid in the garage," Koda laughed.

"Cool, he won't even realize they're gone. Is ya friend still gonna dj, Lo?"

Milo nodded going to throw his trash away.

"Yeah, he should be here in a few. Did you remember to lock the doors upstairs?"

"Ummm, yeah, I think I did. I'll check in a few."

The furniture was moved out of the way, the dj was set up, snacks and drinks were out and the boys were dressed. Fortunately for them, their parents had actually called them to check on them so they didn't have to worry about that being a problem.

A couple hours later, Eli's house and backyard was full of people, classmates, friends from other schools and a lot of people they didn't know. They were enjoying themselves much more since it was their party.

While his cousins danced Koda was by the dj area, taking pictures and videos of them. The more Milo danced the harder he laughed. Going over to them he joined in on their vibe, it was contagious.

Eli continued to dance and looked around the party feeling eyes on him. When he caught the eyes of the girl watching him, he smiled then tapped his cousins.

"I'll be back, I think i spotted my situation for tonight," Eli said staring at the girl.

Koda laughed, "Handle your business, cuz."

"Hoe ass boy," Milo joked.

After slapping hands with his cousins, Eli crossed the party to get to his girl. He snuck up behind her putting his hands on her hips.

"What's up, beautiful? I don't think we've met." He whispered in her ear.

The girl turned around and smiled at him. "We haven't but I know who you are."

"Is that right?" Eli smirked.

"That's right, Eli. I'm Suzy. Now that we're acquainted I wanna see if what I heard is true."

Licking his lips, Eli looked around the room for a moment them back down at Suzy. "Damn you don't waste time but if that's what you want. Follow me."

Milo hit Koda's arm and pointed to Eli, who was climbing the stairs with Suzy behind him. Koda watched them, he couldn't help but laugh.

"That's your hoe ass cousin, Lo." Koda joked.

While the cousins enjoyed their party, Trinity was waiting on the hotel bed for Jimmy to get out of his shower after their date. They decided to take a two day trip to Tampa just because. Trinity checked her texts, her emails then the vivint app. It kept sending her notifications from the doorbell camera. She had been ignoring it figuring Eli and his cousins were going somewhere but it was over 50 plus notifications.

As she looked through the stills from the camera her anger boiled over. She knew these boys were into doing some bad shit but to have a party was something new.

Jimmy came from the bathroom immediately noticing his wife's frown.

"Damn, did I take too long?" He asked jokingly.

"I think," she paused taking a deep breath, "No. Your son and his cousins are having a party."

Jimmy sat on the bed beside her laughing, "They always go to parties. No big deal."

Dropping her phone in her lap, Trinity turned to look at her husband. "No, fool. Your son and his cousins are having a party in our house."

"The hell you mean he having a party? In my house? I known you playin."

Trinity tossed her phone to him, "Look at the pictures. All those kids going in our house with bottles and shit. What does that look like to you?"

Taking the phone, Jimmy looked through the stills his jaw clenching after every picture. He gave her the phone back then went to put his clothes and shoes on.

"Get dressed and packed, we goin back. Ima kill his ass and his damn cousins too," he huffed loudly.

Once the couple got on the road, they called the other two couples to let them know what their kids were up to. They were going to wait for Trinity and Jimmy to get back in town before going to confront their kids.

Meeting up two houses down, the parents stood together fussing about their children. They could hear the loud ass music from where they were standing and it only pissed them off more. Meanwhile inside the house, Eli was still upstairs, Koda was dancing with Parker and Milo in the backyard with Aunni and their other friends.

"Okay, I'm over waiting. Can we go snatch these lil bad asses up or what?" Apryl complained.

"I'm sayin," Kandice agreed, "That lil slow ass boy is gon wish he took his ass to that farm when I'm done."

The men followed their wives to the house and inside, Apryl was in front pushing the teenagers out of her way, Trinity and Jandoce glaring at any of them who looked like they wanted to say something back.

One of the girls stopped dancing and smiled at the parents. "Mrs, Reigns," she screamed over the music. "I didnt know you guys were coming!"

"Girl, get out my way," Kandice demanded pushing the girl out the way.

Jey saw where the DJ was and headed over to him. Roman spotted Koda while Jimmy looked around for Eli and found him leaving against the banister on the second floor talking to a girl. Apryl eyed the party goers, Kandice and Trinity went to the kitchen.

Roman grabbed Koda by the back of his shirt, yanking him away from Parker. Koda snatched away prepared to fight whoever it was, his face softened realizing it was his father.

"Fuck," Koda mumbled not taking his eyes off Roman.

Jey slammed the laptop the DJ was using closed and glared at the young boy daring him to say something. When the music stopped everyone looked to set what the problem was except Koda, he didn't move. Noticing the issue, Eli started to descend the stairs stopping in the middle when he saw Jimmy staring at him.

The teenagers started to complain about their being no music which angered the parents especially Apryl, who still hadn't found her son.

"Shut up! Where is Adrian?" Apryl yelled. They. stood dumbfounded staring at her making her suck her teeth. "Where the hell is Milo?"

Again, nothing.

Apryl nodded, "Oh so nobody knows where his light bright ass is? That's fine, so since no one knows I guess I'll start beating ass till someone talks."

About ten of the kids blurted out that he was outside prompting Jey to head that way. Jimmy and Roman continued to stare at their sons.

"Get yall asses out now and off anything is missin out of this house, I'll visit each of you personally until I find it." Apryl threatened loudly.

Kandice came out of the kitchen to stand beside her cousin. "Leave, now!"

The teens rushed out of the house as quickly as they could, trying to avoid getting too close to the parents. Eli tried to scoot pass his dad but Jimmy stepped on front of him. The ones in the backyard were long gone when they saw Jey. A few minutes later after the house was clear, Jey came walking back in the house with Milo behind him.

Trinity rushed out of the kitchen towards her son and snapped the back of his head making him flinch. "Not only did you have a damn party but you used my good dish! And one of your lil friend broke it!"

Eli moved back from her with his hands up. "My bad, I ain't think it would get broken."

Sliding her sandal off, Trinity started to hit her son with it, gushing with each hit. "These bad ass kids in my house tearing my damn house up."

Koda took a step back, Roman took a step forward. Koda did it again and Roman followed.

"Boy, if you take one more step away from your daddy it better be to run," Kandice spat.

"Why the hell would you participate in this, Adrian? You know my elevator don't go all the way up and neither does your daddy's." Apryl said moving closer to her frightened son. "Look at this mess, Adrian. Trash everywhere, shit is broken and is that beer and weed I smell on you?"

"No!" All three boys answered.

"We had a beer or two but we wasn't smoking, Auntie," Eli spoke up.

"Shut. Up." Trinity said through gritted teeth. "She wasn't talking to you."

Jimmy folded his arms across his chest, "How the he would you know what they did? You had your ass upstairs laid up with somebody daughter."

"Whose idea was this party?" Kandice asked.

"Who was it?" Roman barked.

The boys jumped and all three started to talk away the same time.

"Okay, okay, okay," Kandice yelled. "One at a time."

"Me and Koda," Eli said looking down.

"No," Apryl said shaking her head, "No, it wasn't. Try that again. Who?"

Koda nodded scratching his arm. "It was us, Auntie. It was me and Eli."

"Stop that lyin, Makai," Kandice warned in a low voice.

"I'm not lying," Koda stressed.

Roman eyed his son, "Do you really wanna piss me off more than I already am, Koda? Is that what you really wanna do?"

"N-no, sir. But I," Koda stuttered.

"It wasn't your idea or Eli's," Jey added. "It was Milo. Wasn't it, Milo?"

"Yes, sir." He mumbled quietly.

Apryl laughed to herself. "Its almost 3 in the morning and we're tired. We're gonna go upstairs and go to bed. You three stay down here, we'll finish this in the morning."

Eli raised his hand a bit, "But my room is up there."

"Not tonight it isn't," Trinity said smartly.

"Why are we stayin down here," Koda asked quickly.

"Cause you're gonna clean this house up before we get up. Don't even think about napping or going to sleep before this house is spotless," Kandice warned looked at all three boys.

Koda sucked his teeth and quickly regretted it, feeling his father chop his chest.

"Don't try me, Koda. You know better," Roman told him.

The parents went upstairs leaving their kids without a second glance. The boys didn't move right away until they heard the bedroom doors slam. They knew they going to have a long night and day.

[isthemedia]

My Follow up to “Static” fic. 

**EDIT** The title is now;

“White Noise”

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

It felt like he was underwater. 

Muffled voices that seemed so far away--

And yet so close. 

Everything was dark. What happened? Why couldn’t he remember? There was a lingering sound of static--

Static…

Static! 

That’s what happened! 

Did it work? 

Oh cob he hoped that it did! 

H-he wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to know! He had to know! 

Did it work? Did it work? Had it? 

Please he had to know. 

Please, please…

‘Let me open my eyes!’

--

“I have almost completed in eradicating the virus,” Dendy proclaimed. A bit scuffed up, glasses cracked, but still smiling. 

“Heh, I like this kid,” Sylus chuckled as he watched as lines of code were rapidly input. Rows and rows of numbers and symbols filling the screen. 

“Sy no,” Lawrence began, berating the other. “You’re NOT keeping her. She has her OWN family.” 

“Never topped Nana,” Sylus shot back. 

“That’s your excuse for everything,” Lawrence rolled his eyes and knelt down to Dendy’s height. “You sure you got it all?” 

Dendy smiled and nodded as her fingers still flew over the keys and dials. 

Sylus looked over his shoulder to see Vincent sitting besides the still out Boxman. He could tell that his brother was worried. All the other bots woke up once the lab was restarted. However, the villain...has yet to stir. 

Not far from them was Darrel, sniffling as Fink and K.O. were trying to buff out a dent in his arm from the fight. The bot apologizing again and again, how he didn’t want to. 

How the static…

The static--

Sylus grit his teeth. 

A hand settled on his shoulder as he looked to Lawrence. “He won’t try it again. We’ll make sure of it.” 

Sylus sighed. “That ain’t the issue I’m worried about Larry.” 

Lawrence gave him a confused look as Sylus removed the hero’s hand from his shoulder. “Then what is it?” 

There was no answer right away… “They’re not gonna be the same ya know...I mean...around static.”

He didn’t need to clarify any further. Lawrence understood what he was getting at. He knew all too well. All too well about having an...unconventional fear. A concern. 

There was a groan that came from behind them. A quick cursory glance over their shoulder, and all three let out a sigh of relief. 

Seemed Boxman was finally coming too. 

--

His head felt heavy, and his eyelids did too...but he managed to sit up--

And a set of arms were suddenly wrapped around him tightly. There was only a brief moment of confusion before…

“NEVER! Do something like that again!” 

That voice!

“V-venomous? H-How--” 

“Yer lucky we got curious,” Sylus’ voice called, the smirk clear in it. 

So that’s how…

And Venomous...Vincent was originally so adamant against rekindling his relationship with his brothers. When it indeed just saved him...save all of Boxmore actually. 

“It’s actually thanks to you,” Dendy piped in. 

“M-me?” Boxman wasn’t sure how. He let that program go. Let it run. Trusting the package, stating it was from Billiam of all people. 

“Indeed. It seems that the sudden shut down, made it impossible for it to further infect any additional equipment. Thus trapping it,” Dendy explained. 

Sylus threw his head back and laughed. “Vinny ya got yerself there a catch!”

Vincent chuckled and smiled softly. “Indeed I do.”

Boxman felt his face flush slightly. 

“You better be marryin’ this guy, cause anyone who stands up ta Stephen, and WINS gotta be part of the family!” 

“Sylus!” Lawrence scolded. 

“What? He does it or I’m gonna do it for him.” 

“You are not!” 

M-marry!? N-No no no! H-he--that was just Sylus being Sylus! If there was one thing he learned about the oldest was that he tended to say whatever was on his m--

“Will you?” Vincent’s voice broke into Boxman’s thoughts.

D-did he hear that r-right?

“W-will...I--” He gaped at the bio-engineer. 

“Well?” Vincent asked again. 

“Whoa, hey Vinny, I was only playin--” Sylus began. 

“But you’re right,” Vincent looked over to the other two, before looking back. “A-and...with you, I...I never questioned who I was. Even after all this,” he made a general sweeping gesture with his hand. “You...still want to be...with me.” 

Boxman couldn’t reply. His tongue was tied and his throat was tight.

Then…

That voice was mocking him again. 

‘He sees...me.’

But, if he really did? Would he be smiling like that? Be open like that? 

Want to stay with him? If he really thought that? 

Boxman didn’t know how long it he was quiet for but it had to be long enough, because he felt a hand on his cheek. 

“Did he...say something?” There was worry clear in the others’ eyes. Worry...concern. 

Two things he would NEVER feel for Stephen. Boxman chuckled softly to himself and shook his head. Placing his human hand over Vincents. “It was nothing true.” 

 “So...will you?” Vincent asked, eyes lighting up with hope. “Bo’?” He added in a soft whisper.  

“...I will,” he paused. “And I do.”