#or whether she just did not understand the lyrics and simply thought it's a nice song to accompany those visuals

[mexashepot]

Did she have to use that song for that backstage video.

Was it necessary.

What does it MEAN

[queenshelby]

The Singer – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,483

Warning: Smut, Semi Public Sex

 ***The Interview***

It’s been three weeks since Kurt’s stunt and things between you and Cillian couldn’t have been better. Whilst you struggled with comments from the press and the public initially, calling you a home wrecker and making an issue out of the age gap between you, it brought you and Cillian closer together and he even defended your relationship in a recent interview.

Whilst you still hadn’t talked about what you were and where you were at, it was clear to you that you were officially dating. But no one really took you seriously. You were seen as Cillian’s midlife crisis.

Cillian cared very little about the press, ignoring the bad rumours and assuring you that none of this mattered.

He was right. It didn’t matter. People were still buying your new album which, under contract, was unfortunately being produced by Kurt. Under the same contract, you were also obliged to engage in interviews and promotional events.

Whilst you were very eager to simply break your contract, Cillian reasoned with you. He was sensible and you were impulsive.

He assured you that breaking the contract would simply mean more bad press and you engaged Cillian’s agent to help you with media engagements. He seemed to take a sensible approach and asked interviewers to not ask you any personal questions.

But this didn’t always work out, especially when you had an interview scheduled with a London based program whose interviewer just loved to get under your skin.  

This interviewer managed to ask you about your alleged affair by referring to some lyrics of one of your songs.

‘Look, my private life is private and I will not discuss my relationship on this show. But what I can assure you is that there was no affair. We both had separated from our partners when we got involved with each other. The song you are referring to was written over a year ago and doesn’t reflect any of my personal experiences. It was written for a movie and just like the movie, it’s fictional’ you explained in response of the interviewer’s intrusive question.

‘There are many other songs you’ve written which come to mind indicating that you do in fact prefer to be with men who are older than you. These songs were all well received but your relationship is not. How do you feel about this?’ the interviewer than asked, not giving up.

‘Again, the songs are fictional, but my private life is not. That might be the issue. It’s all good if it’s fictional but as soon as it’s not, people get curious. Perhaps there is a lack of understanding surrounding relationships that aren’t the norm. Maybe people’s perceptions will change over time. I certainly hope so. After all, there are so many relationships in the history of the world where people have large age gaps and I believe that every adult has the right to date whoever they want without being criticised about it’ you explained before taking a short pause. ‘Anyway, I would prefer if we could chat about my music now rather than my private life. That’s why I am here’ you said bluntly.

The interviewer finally backed off after your request and your agent had already called in, putting the producers of the show into their place.

Cillian had also listened to the interview and texted you, making sure that you were alright and telling you that he thought that your response was well placed.

Kurt, on the other hand, was once again annoyed with you and sent you a rude text message shortly after the interview and he couldn’t help but try to get under your and Cillian’s skin.

***The Function***

Later that day, the studio was hosting a release party to celebrate your new album which Kurt had organised at the theatre complex function rooms.

It was a beautiful venue but you knew that Kurt would be attending which could end up being a complete nightmare.

This was also the first official event which you were attending together with Cillian and you raised the question whether this meant that you are his girlfriend now.

‘I suppose….I don’t know…do you want me to be your boyfriend?’ Cillian chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt.

‘I would love you to be my boyfriend’ you giggled before giving him a kiss and asking him to zip up your dress.

‘Well, I suppose I am officially off the market again then’ Cillian chuckled before returning the kiss, which was also when you heard the taxi pull up in front of his house.

Your agent has taken the liberty to invite several producers to the party, much to the dislike of Kurt. Kurt was even more irritated when you finally arrived, together with Cillian who was holding your hand.

‘Y/N…Cillian’ Kurt said greeting you both, wanting to shake Cillian’s hand but all he got in return was Cillian raising his eyebrow.

‘Kurt’ you responded with an almost evil grin on your face and just before Kurt leaned in and kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t stay to talk to him and it wasn’t long until you were inundated by other producers, wanting to talk to you.

‘I told you, she can be a real slut’ Kurt said to Cillian as Cillian gave you some space to mingle, unbothered by the attention you were receiving by several of the producers your agent had invited.

‘And you wonder why she left you?’ Cillian chuckled, thinking that Kurt is an absolute douche.

‘You know she sucked my cock just before I signed her’ Kurt said with a smug face and it was obvious to Cillian that he had been taking some coke again.

‘Nice talk’ Cillian laughed before walking away, getting himself a drink and talking to some of the other artists.

After about thirty minutes you sought out Cillian who was standing next to the buffet talking to two female artists and you decided to give him the same space he had given you. Jealousy wasn’t your thing and you knew there was no need for it.

Eventually, however, you received a text message from him which said nothing but ‘HELP’, making you giggle. He obviously didn’t enjoy himself talking to these women and was being polite, hanging out with them and engaging into some small talk.

Just as you were going to get Cillian away, Kurt approached you.

‘Found a new producer yet?’ he asked and you responded with a quick ‘maybe’.

‘You won’t get the same sweet deal you had with me Love…’ Kurt went on to say, causing you to laugh.

‘You remember that night in the record studio together?’ he asked sheepishly.

‘Yes, I do. You lasted a total of ten minutes which was quite something Kurt’ you chuckled.

‘And I bet these were the best ten minutes of your life’ Kurt said just as Cillian approached you, listening into the conversation and taking in a deep breath.

‘Would you please give us a minute’ Cillian asked somewhat angrily.

‘I will…because my date is here’ Kurt said sheepishly.

‘What, did you hire an escort?’ Cillian asked, looking over to the woman Kurt pointed at.

‘She’s a model’ Kurt explained, not realising that Cillian was being sarcastic.

‘Of course she is’ Cillian chuckled before saying bye to him and this is when you broke out laughing.

‘He’s got the IQ of an ape’ Cillian huffed as Kurt walked away, shaking his head in disbelieve.

‘You are being so polite sweetheart’ you giggled.

‘I am sorry, but he just makes me fucking angry. You know what he said earlier?’ Cillian said but, before he could tell you, you crashed his lips onto yours.

‘Are you angry?’ you asked as your lips drifted apart.

‘At Kurt? Yes’ Cillian said.

‘Good. Come with me’ you winked as you pulled him away from the function.

Without questions, Cillian followed you upstairs where the offices of the producers were located.

‘I saw you talking to these women earlier…tell me about them’ you said as you led Cillian towards the back of the office area.

‘Sorry Y/N, I don’t know much about them, they just…’ Cillian said but, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss in front of the door leading to Kurt’s office.

‘Don’t apologise, just tell me. I think there is nothing more sexy than seeing other women want what I have’ you smirked, your hand moving to his crotch.

‘Seriously?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod and bite your lips suggestively.

‘Well, unlike you, I don’t like seeing other men want what is mine now, especially not this smug bastard’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back onto yours for an urgent kiss.

‘Please tell me this makes you angry’ you giggled as you pulled a white card out of your handbag.

‘Of course it makes me angry and, if I wouldn’t be so fucking complacent, I would punch him’ Cillian chuckled just as he watched you swipe the card through the black machine on Kurt’s office door before putting in the PIN on the security keyboard.

‘I’ve got a better idea’ you smirked as you pulled Cillian into Kurt’s office.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian asked and all you did in response was looking over to Kurt’s study desk.

Cillian’s eyes lid up and, before you knew it, you felt your lower back pushed against the desk while Cillian lifted up your dress and pushed aside your panties.

‘You are so wet’ Cillian growled with excitement as, without warning, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside you, causing you to moan loudly. He was so aroused and rock hard, ready to take you, but he wanted to play with you first.

‘You do this to me Cillian’ you moaned, throwing your head back and taking in the sensation of his fingers deep inside your tight entrance.

Cillian continued to slide his fingers back and forth within your wet folds, hearing you moan and gasp at the sensation. He then slipped his middle finger inside you. You cried in pleasure. He loved pleasing you like this and started to thrust his fingers inside you faster and faster, watching your body pulsate with his movements.

He hit your g-spot over and over again and you knew what this meant. He was doing this on purpose, making sure to mark what is his and, in the process of it, possibly also mark the carpet in Kurt’s office if he kept going like this.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you cried, your eyes closed as he was manoeuvring his fingers tilted up to get the pleasure spot over and over again until your legs began to shake.

‘You like that?’ Cillian asked softly as he continued thrusting his finger into you and you barely managed to nod.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked at him as he confidently smiled at you. His unabashed confidence was turning you on even more. He knew that no one else ever made you cum like this.

As he continued to finger you, sending waves of pleasure over your body, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm and just as you were about to scream in pleasure, Cillian pushed his other hand over your mouth firmly as you came over his fingers, a wet puddle immediately forming on the office floor.

While your head was still spinning and without allowing you to come down from your high, Cillian spun you around and pushed you down against the cold oak table.

He certainly was angry and you loved every moment of it.

With one swift movement, he lifted up your dress again and pushed down your panties.

‘Spread your legs’ he instructed and you obliged, hearing his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his jeans opening.

‘That’s good’ he said as he was positioning his cock directly at your entrance, ready to push in.

Your heart started pounding with excitement and with one hard and powerful thrust and one loud groan Cillian buried himself deep inside you.

You shrieked at the sensation as he immediately and forcefully bottomed out inside of you. It took your breath away and he gave you no chance to adjust as he began to thrust in and out of you.

‘You are all mine’ Cillian moaned as he hit your cervix with the tip of his cock for what felt like the hundred’s time.

‘I am yours Cillian, oh god yes, fuck me hard’ you moaned.

Cillian grunted with each thrust, getting more aroused by the second as he was taking you over Kurt’s desk.

Each thrust was igniting a fire in you. It felt so good and you cried at the inexplicable pleasure consuming you, calling Cillian’s name multiple times.

Cillian was grabbing your thighs, prying them apart, and opening you up to him even more. He thrusted deeper and harder into you in this position.

You cried, your nails digging into the wood of Kurt’s desk while your pussy clapped against Cillian with each thrust.

‘I am coming Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and just, like that, another loud moan escaped you and your orgasm washed over you, your legs quivering and shaking as a result.

Cillian exhaled and groaned loudly, leaning in and filling you with his warm cum at the same time. You felt yourself fill up with his seed, exhaling at the sensation. He stayed inside you for a minute, then slowly pulled out. He watched his cum flow out of your opening ecstatically, running down your thighs.

You then turned around and grabbed one of the tissues from Kurt’s desk, wiping your legs clean before throwing the tissue into the bin.

His desk was covered with some of your sweat and juiced and Cillian looked at your flushed, glistening, beautiful face as you were still panting and kissed you softly on the lips.

‘Should we clean this up?’ Cillian chuckled as he closed up his belt.

‘Oh god no’ you smirked before collecting a good amount of Cillian’s cum that had pooled inside you and then licking your finger suggestively before pulling your panties back up.

‘Let’s get back to the party and say goodbye, shall we?’ you giggled.

Cillian followed you and the first person you chose to say goodbye to was Kurt, which surprised Cillian.

Giving Kurt a big kiss on his cheek, you wished him a pleasant evening and Cillian’s chin dropped immediately.

He couldn’t help it but laugh, shake Kurt’s hand, with the same hand that had pleasured you just minutes earlier, and wish him a pleasant night also.

‘You are so fucking bad, you know that?’ Cillian laughed later in the taxi on your way home.

‘He deserved it’ you giggled.

   Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03  @mcntsee​@cloudofdisney​ @missymurphy1985​​ @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @otterly-fey janelongxox  @uchihacumdump

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby   @chocolatehalo

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (6)

(the next chapter is heeeeeeeeeeeere!!! hope you guys like it!! there’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries, though I don’t know how long I’m going to be continuing it. Check it out if you feel like it!)

Ch.1 / Ch.5 / Ch.7

Chapter 6: Don’t Be Suspicious

Marinette tilted her head from side to side, doing a subtle dance to the music that played through her earbuds. She tapped her pencil on the desk with the beat and mouthed Jagged Stone’s lyrics as they came, thoroughly enjoying the electric guitar in the background. At Dupont, listening to music with earbuds was a ‘no-no’ despite her efforts. Principle Damocles, along with a few of the teachers, insisted that it hindered their drive to focus and work on school. The thought wasn’t entirely misguided- Marinette was already re-reading this textbook page for the third time with no hope of comprehension in sight -but she enjoyed the liberties that came with her new school nonetheless.

In all honesty, Rosemary didn’t allow headphones either, but the librarian wasn’t a snitch, and Marinette wasn’t a saint. So, during her assigned study halls, she would hop over to the school’s library and jam out to Jagged Stone. It was a nice reprieve from the strict guidelines that Rosemary held for their students and gave her time to unwind before her next round of overly-complicated classes. 

She was about ready to start banging her head to the song- the lyrics were just too good -when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Her gaze flicked upwards towards Claude, who was sitting beside her. He’d suggested that they study together during the one study hall they shared, and Marinette, being friends with him and genuinely enjoying his company, agreed. He was actually the one who told her about the lax librarian in the first place.

Once Claude was certain that he had her attention, he tapped a finger to his ear, silently requesting her to take out an earbud. Marinette gladly obliged and paused her Jagged Stone music to hear him better.

“What are you listening to? You look like you’re really jamming out.” He asked curiously.

Marinette held up her phone for him to see the song cover. “Just Jagged Stone. He normally helps me think, but I’m starting to wonder if that only works for design sketches.”

Claude gasped so hard that she thought he was going to choke, and an ear-splitting grin spread across his lips.

“You listen to Jagged Stone too? He’s one of my favorites!” The brunette said enthusiastically.

Marinette straightened with delight. “Seriously? He’s been a favorite of mine since I was twelve!”

“Ten!” Claude trilled.

Elation bubbled up in Marinette’s chest. Finally! Someone to talk to about Jagged Stone! She hadn’t found a kindred spirit since Luka and.. well.. She hasn’t met another Jagged Stone fan in a while. 

“Did you hear the new album that just came out?” She asked, folding her arms across the table and leaning onto them. When she first came to Rosemary, she’d naturally assumed that no one there listened to rock. Everyone was prepped and poised and rich. Their tastes were bound to be much ‘finer’ than hers.

Looking at it now, though, it made perfect sense for Claude to listen to Jagged Stone. He was an energetic and passionate person, and that’s what Rock n’ Roll was all about. She also had to remind herself that she was now a Rosemary student. If she listened to rock music, it was possible that her other classmates did as well. The school wasn’t a complete hive mind, after all. 

Claude scoffed playfully. “Did I? I was the first in line for the cd! The songs were a total masterpiece!”

Before Marinette could reply, another scoff interrupted their conversation, one that wasn’t nearly as playful. She glanced across the table to Felix, who had looked up from his book. He’d shared the same study hall hour that they did, and Claude, being who he was, coaxed the blond into joining them in the library.

Well.. ‘coax’ probably wasn’t the right word. It was more of Claude dragging Marinette to the table that Felix was already sitting at and convincing Felix to stay seated once they got there. 

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the corners of his lips twitched in a scowl, the same way they always did when he was about to criticize something. 

“No type of rock music could ever be considered a ‘masterpiece’,” He stated matter-of-factly, “especially not that man’s noise.”

Marinette gasped, slapping a hand to her chest in offense. “Jagged Stone’s music is not ‘noise’.”

“Forget it, Mari.” Claude cut in, putting a hand on her shoulder as he shot Felix a glare. “This guy will never understand Jagged’s art.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call throwing a bunch of instruments together and screaming into the microphone ‘art’.”

Marinette crossed her arms and huffed. Jagged Stone didn’t scream. His voice was just rough, but even if he did scream, that shouldn’t give Felix the right to be rude. Everyone had their own tastes. Marinette didn’t go around bashing XY fans, now, did she?

“Have you even listened to him?” She asked indignantly. 

“I’ve had the unfortunate experience of listening to rock, yes. That’s how I know it’s in bad taste.” 

Marinette’s fingers dug into her skin. “But have you listened to Jagged Stone?”

The grated words caused Felix to pause. 

“..I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Marinette sighed and tugged out one of her earbuds to hand it to him. “Here.”

Felix rose a brow, not moving an inch. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

“You’re going to listen to at least one of Jagged Stone’s songs.” She told him. “Then you can tell me what you think.”

Felix was an extremely opinionated person. He tended to say exactly what he thought without considering how it would affect others around him. At first, his snaps and snide remarks put her on edge. She would worry about angering him and making him dislike her from the things she’d say or do. But after spending more time around him, Marinette realized that he wasn’t angry as much as he was easily irritated. He would get annoyed at things that he viewed as out of place or illogical, then, after fixing the problem or telling someone else to fix it, he would move on. It just so happened that Allegra, Allan, and Claude were constantly doing things that were ‘illogical’, ‘unnecessary’, and- her personal favorite -‘downright preposterous’.

That being said, Marinette still didn’t enjoy challenging Felix when she disagreed with him. His words were sharp and blunt, whether he meant them to be or not, and arguing was never her strong suit, anyway. Therefore, she found it best to merely listen and watch as the rest of the group continued to push Felix’s buttons relentlessly.

Right now, however, was a different story. Right now he was denouncing an incredibly talented artist who he hadn’t even bothered to listen to before condemning, and Marinette wouldn’t stand for it.

Felix’s gaze shifted to the earbud. She could see the command turning in his mind, could see him deciding between being difficult and resisting or simply being nice for once. 

“..Fine,” He relented, taking the offered headphone, “but don’t be upset when my opinion doesn’t change.”

Marinette tried not to smile too much and quickly started scrolling through her playlist to choose a song. If she only had one shot to convince Felix of Jagged’s greatness, she needed to play one of his best works.

“Wow..” Claude remarked. “You actually got him to listen to a song. That’s farther than I’ve ever gotten.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting. Marinette didn’t reply either. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity she’d been given by joking with Claude.

She found a song a few seconds later and eagerly set the phone between them as it began to play. This had been a song that she’d listened to for at least a week or two before moving on to the next one. She knew the lyrics inside out and could quite possibly sing them in her sleep. If anything was going to convince Felix that rock was also a musical art, it would be this song.

Felix’s expression twisted with annoyance as the drums kicked up to join the electric base. 

“See, this is what I’m talking about.” He sighed. “The notes are overbearing and chaotic. How can you enjoy it?”

“Because they’re not chaotic.” Marinette replied, gathering all the patience she could. “It might get loud sometimes, but the drums and guitar create a steady beat for Jagged Stone to sing to.”

Just then, Jagged Stone’s voice rang through the headphones, gruff and strong. Marinette’s lips quirked up into an involuntary smile, but Felix, unsurprisingly, wasn’t as thrilled as she was.

“He doesn’t even sing about anything important.” He said. “The words are completely random.”

Marinette resisted the urge to groan. How could someone be so smart yet so stupid at the same time? 

“The lyrics aren’t random. And they might not be important to you, but they are to him.” She tried to explain. “Jagged writes about the things he loves and tells it to the world through song. His music is full of passion, and it drives others to be more passionate too. Myself included.”

Felix glanced up at her for a moment, no doubt scrutinizing her claims, and tisked. He then put a hand over his borrowed earbud and closed his eyes to try to listen to the music better. 

Although it was a small, begrudging act, Marinette couldn’t help grinning. He didn’t like rock music, didn’t even want to entertain the idea of liking it, yet here he was, listening to Jagged Stone’s music because she asked him to. He was trying hard to understand something she enjoyed, and that meant a lot, especially when one considers how stubborn he can be.

“I suppose I can understand what you mean..” Felix mumbled a few seconds later. “The notes aren’t nearly as melodic as what I’m used to, but it must take some form of talent to mash banging instruments together and make it sound decent.”

Marinette beamed. It was a backhanded comment, but she could accept it. 

“Okay, my turn.” She said, extending her hand towards him.

Felix frowned. “Pardon?”

“You said that Jagged Stone isn’t what you’re used to, right? I wanna know what you’re used to.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Let me listen to one of your songs.” 

Felix’s frown deepened, but he pulled out his earbuds to hand one to her. 

“I suppose I could show you the one I’ve been listening to recently..” He muttered to himself. “Just be careful with these. They’re expensive.” 

Marinette happily plucked one of the earbuds out of Felix’s hands and put it on. The cord between the earbuds was shorter than hers, so they both had lean across the table to share. She didn’t mind the closeness, though. They’d only be there for a moment.

When the music finally began, all Marinette could really do was snort. Classical music. Of course Felix would listen to classical music. Each note had a purpose, place, and expression in the song. Yes, other music had that too, but most of the time, there were words that people sang to excuse repetitiveness of the beat. Classical music had to carry its own weight, and that made all the difference. 

“What?” Felix asked, referring to her laugh.

Marinette put a hand to her mouth with an apologetic smile. “Oh, nothing. It just makes sense for you to listen to classical music.”

Felix rose a brow, but she waved him off. There was no point explaining it.

“Anyway, I can see why you would like this, because it’s really pretty, but I, personally, find it a little boring.” She said honestly. “The notes are too slow. I would fall asleep before I could finish a song.”

“It’s not just a song, though.” Felix argued. “It’s a story. Listen closer.”

Marinette did as she was told and closed her eyes, putting a hand over her earbud like Felix had done earlier. The piano and violin mingled together in a soft symphony, lulling up and down as the symphony progressed. A lone guitar played a joyful tune in the background.

“The protagonist is admiring their lover.” Felix explained. “They’re making promises of being together always.”

Drums bubbled up behind the piano and violin as the guitar faded, causing the music to shift into a tense atmosphere.

“The father of the lover is coming between them, forcing a separation.” 

Violin strings shake with the drums, and the piano gradually grows louder to emphasize the ominous presence. Once the tension is drawn out to its absolute limit, the music breaks with bursts of violins and trumpets, signifying the beginning of a fight.

“The protagonist refuses to back down, and although they are worried, they stand up to fight for their love anyway.” 

Marinette cracked an eye open to look at Felix. His eyes were now closed as well, and a soft smile ghosted his lips. She hadn’t taken him to be a romantic, but he appeared to be deeply engrossed in the ‘story’. Did he read romance novels often? She assumed all of the books he carried around were about historical facts or intricate philosophies, not trials of love or daring confessions.

“Do you hear it?” Felix asked, his eyes abruptly opening. Their heads were already close from sharing headphones, but his looking up only brought them closer. It was a miracle their noses didn’t bump together.

Marinette froze, her eyes widening at being caught. Was it weird that she was staring at him before he opened his eyes? It shouldn’t be, right? Staring at your friend wasn’t a crime. 

Say something. Marinette’s mind screamed. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything. She could hardly even think straight. She was too lost in the roundness of his eyes or how long his eyelashes were or whether she was too close to him and have his eyes always had those little specks of blue in them?

Marinette squeaked, finally gaining enough sense to lurch backwards. Felix’s earbud was tugged out of her ear, but she didn’t care. Right now she needed distance. 

“S-sorry!” She blurted out. “I-I mean- uhm -the music was fine, or- great. I-.. I could really hear the- the story.”

Her hands covered her face in a vain attempt to hide her blush. Her cheeks were absolutely burning from embarrassment. How could she get so flustered? Wasn’t it her idea to share the earbuds?

Felix was strangely quiet as he picked up the abandoned earbud and paused the song. Oh gosh, he probably thought she was a total weirdo now. (If he hadn’t thought that already.)

Marinette peeked through her fingers, searching his face for judgement, but he simply wrapped the cord of the earbuds around his phone. Although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly, the rest of his expression was neutral. Was that a good sign or no?

“Yes, that’s why I enjoy it.” He finally said once his phone was put away. His tone was graciously composed, not acknowledging her humiliating outburst. “The composers put real effort and work into their music. They carefully aligned each note to make sure it portrays their story and theme correctly. That’s what I consider to be a masterpiece.”

Marinette nodded. “Y-Yeah.. That makes sense.. I still think Jagged Stone’s music is also a work of art, though.”

She settled back into her original seat, as did Felix. 

“Agree to disagree, I suppose.” Felix shrugged.

An astounded laugh came from the left of them, and the two turned back to Claude. Marinette had admittedly forgotten that he was there.

“I, for one, am impressed.” The brunette announced. “You actually got Felix to entertain a different opinion. He never says ‘agree to disagree’! It’s always just ‘you’re wrong’.”

Felix scoffed. “Don’t act like I’m unreasonable. I’m stubborn in my opinions because they’re logical and sound, while your arguments against them are hardly either.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you think you guys can argue about cephalopods now? I’m supposed to be doing a report on them for science.”

Marinette chuckled, finally relaxing in her chair again. “Sorry, Claude. I don’t have any strong opinions about cephalopods.”

“Maybe if you read a book every once in a while, you’d find something to write about.” Felix added, being ever the supportive one.

“Hey! I do read!” Claude defended. “I just don’t know what to write about. Should I argue a random point about cephalopods or should I just write about a bunch of facts? Am I supposed to list my sources or can I say whatever I want? What does the school board want from me?”

“Claude, you’re a sophomore.” Felix stated bluntly. “If you don’t know how to write papers now, I can’t help you.”

Claude groaned and sunk into his chair, and Marinette offered a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway,” He grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face, “speaking of cephalopods, have you guys heard about the new aquarium exhibit that they just opened at Aquarium de Paris?”

Marinette perked up. “Wait, really? I didn’t know about that!”

“Yeah, I think it’s something to do with the sharks.” Claude smiled. “They’ve got this new tank and everything.”

Marinette wiggled in her seat with delight. She always loved aquariums. “That’s so cool! I’ll have to ask Maman and Papa about going to see it.”

“Oh, why don’t we all go together?” Claude suggested. “I wanna see the new exhibit too, and I’m sure Allegra and Allan will want to go.”

“Sure! When do you think you’ll be free to go see it?”

Claude leaned back in his chair as he thought about it. “Uh.. maybe this Sunday? I don’t think I have anything going on then. Does that work for you?”

“I’ll have to check with my parents, but that should be okay. Do you want me to tell Allan about it during our next class?”

Claude nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll tell Allegra.”

Marinette smiled and turned to Felix. “Are you gonna come with us, Felix?” 

A part of her felt awkward asking, as Felix didn’t normally enjoy the group outings, but a bigger part of her would feel guilty if she didn’t invite him when they were inviting everyone else.

Felix glanced up from his book with a questioning gaze. He.. hadn’t been listening.

“We’re going to Aquarium de Paris this Sunday. Are you coming?” Claude asked again.

Felix shrugged. “I suppose Allegra will drag me along either way, so why not?”

Marinette bit her lip to hold back a giddy squeal. This was going to be great! Getting to see all of the new fish and getting to spend time with her new friends? What could be better than that?

~~~~~~

Felix drew in a deep breath as he made his way towards the school exit. Aside from the soft chattering and echoing footsteps of the students around him, it was quiet, and he reveled in the silence while he could. Leaving school alone was a rarity now, especially since Marinette joined their group. Allegra, Claude, and Allan had always been insistent on smothering him with activities, but with the new ‘recruit’, the time they spent together has doubled. The trio wanted everyone to be together constantly. That included Felix. 

He sighed, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. The numerous study dates, get-togethers, and group lunches had pushed his social battery to its absolute limit. So the small reprieve was greatly appreciated. 

It did feel strange, though, not hearing Claude’s rambling or Allegra’s scolding or Marinette’s laughter. They’d become a steady background noise to the rest of his daily life, and now that they were absent, Felix found himself glancing over his shoulder, waiting for one of them to pop up.

Of course, no one came, and Felix forced his eyes forward to push away the growing anticipation. There was no need to mull over it. He would see them tomorrow at school, and on top of that, they had another outing scheduled for this Sunday to visit the aquarium. By the end of the week, Felix would certainly have his fill of seeing their faces or hearing their voices.

The sun beat down on Felix as he stepped outside, and he welcomed it whole-heartedly. The biting cold of January was never something he fancied, save for the fact that it kept everyone else indoors. 

He started down the front stairs, letting his mind wander back to the conversation he’d had with Marinette during their shared study hall. Her boldness during their discussion of musical preferences had surprised him, since she usually steered clear of any confrontations. He couldn’t blame her for her sudden tenacity, though. People tended to be extremely attached to their music, and Felix had criticized her tastes. It only made sense for her to defend herself.

On that note, Jagged Stone? Really? He’d assumed Claude was the only one to have such bizarre tastes. Nevertheless, if Marinette approved of the man, Felix wasn’t going to question too much. She still created those phenomenal designs, after all, meaning she must have a good eye for things.

Bits and pieces of the song that Marinette had requested him to listen to resurfaced in his mind. If he was being honest, it wasn’t as horrible as he’d claimed, but blaring drums and pounding beats simply didn’t help him relax like classical music did.

Felix closed his eyes briefly as he recalled the piano piece he’d shown Marinette a few minutes later. It was a favorite of his, one that he listened to often while reading alone in his room, and he did his best to explain the mastery of the artwork. The passion, the yearning, the love- it can be difficult to express, especially when he hadn’t experienced those things first hand. That’s the main reason he found the piece so interesting.

The image of Marinette’s delicate features flicked through his mind. He’d looked up at her to gawk her reaction, to see if she understood what he was trying to say, but he’d found her staring right back at him instead. Her almond-shaped eyes were round with shock, and he couldn’t help thinking about the first time they met, when he first realized how blue her irises were. They almost reminded him of tiny, swirling oceans, deep and mesmerizing. 

When she jerked back a few seconds later, something akin to disappointment had laced through Felix’s stomach, and even now, he wasn’t sure why that was. Perhaps he wanted to admire the color a tad longer. 

Either way, Marinette plopped into her seat, her cheeks flushing a dark scarlet, and it was only then that Felix noticed his own racing heartbeat. Again, he was at a loss for the cause. Was it because she startled him by lurching backwards? He didn’t remember flinching.

The screeching of tires pulled Felix from his thoughts, and his gaze turned to the road in front of him. A silver car had parked on the curb. 

A frown tugged at the corner of Felix’s lips. That was odd. Parking on the curbs near Rosemary wasn’t allowed unless someone was being picked up or dropped off, yet no students were waving the car down or exiting the vehicle.

The back door to the car swung open, causing Felix to raise a brow. Spoke too soon.

A boy jumped out of the car, his golden blonde hair shining in the sunlight as he ran towards the front steps. Something about him seemed familiar, but Felix couldn’t place his finger on what.

The boy slowed to a stop in front of him and offered a friendly smile. Yeah, Felix has definitely seen this guy before. But where?

“Hey!” The stranger greeted. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a girl. Her name is Marinette?”

Felix narrowed his eyes at the name. Marinette as in Marinette Dupain-Cheng? As in, the girl who was inside talking to Allegra right now? Why would he be looking for her?

“She’s about this tall.” The boy continued, holding his hand just above his shoulder for reference. “She’s got raven-colored hair that she normally puts into pigtails, and wears pink capris and a black jacket. She would have started attending this school about two weeks ago?”

The more he spoke, the more suspicious Felix became. This guy knew a lot about Marinette, but Felix didn’t know a thing about him. Was he a friend? An enemy? Marinette didn’t mention meeting someone after school. Not that she was obligated to share her personal connections and schedules, but what if this was the person that’s been wanting to ‘talk’ with her? The stalker?

Don’t overreact. Felix told himself. This could be a perfectly harmless visit from an old friend of hers. Just because I wasn’t aware of him coming doesn’t mean he has ill intentions. 

...but just in case..

“Apologies, but have we met?” Felix asked, dodging the blonde’s question. He didn’t want to disclose Marinette’s location unless he had her permission. There were too many cases where an unknowing co-worker blabbed about the victim’s schedule to the stalker, and he refused to be one of those idiots.

The boy pulled a sheepish expression and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, no, we haven’t, but I can see why you would think that. My face is kind of everywhere with all of the ads Father’s had me model in recently.”

Felix blinked, the mix of familiarity and the boy’s words clicking together in his mind. Of course! This was that same, obnoxious face that Paris has been obsessed with for the better half of five years. The amount of billboards and posters of this guy that were plastered around the city was enough to make Felix gag. He couldn’t look in any direction without seeing him!

“You’re Adrien Agreste.” He stated, a hint of irritation accidentally rising to his tone. Not only has this ‘sunshine child’- or so Paris called him -been plaguing his eyes for at least two years since Gabriel upped his campaigning game, he also happens to have the same name that was scribbled on Marinette’s birthday cards, the ones she’d offered to give away. Was that a coincidence? 

Felix was leaning towards ‘no’.

“Yep.” Adrien chuckled. “That’s me. Anyway, is she here? I really need to talk with her.”

“He really just wants to ‘talk’.” 

Marinette’s bitter words resurfaced in his mind, and Felix narrowed his eyes. The chances of Adrien Agreste being an enemy were steadily rising.

“I’m afraid I don’t know a girl by that name or description,” he lied, “and there hasn’t been a new student here since last year.”

If Adrien turned out to truly be one of Marinette’s friends, he would apologize, but Felix wasn’t going to risk compromising her if his suspicions were correct. 

Confusion etched its way onto the blond’s features, and he glanced down at the ground as he muttered, “I could have sworn she said ‘Rosemary’..”

Felix rose a brow. Marinette told him which school she was attending? Or did another girl give him the information?

Before either could say anything more, a car horn sounded in front of them, and Adrien glanced over his shoulder to the driver of the silver car. 

“Ah, I gotta go. Thanks for your help!” 

Felix didn’t bother returning Adrien’s wave, instead watching him hop down the front steps. Although it would annoy him, he hoped that the blond actually was a friend of Marinette’s, for her sake. He can’t imagine her being happy with the news that someone had followed her to school.

“Oh, hey, Felix! I thought you were leaving.”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear..

The silver car had just disappeared around the corner when the girl in question skipped down the front steps next to him. She flashed him a bright smile, making his insides churn with guilt. Should he tell her? She needed to know, right? 

“I was,” He said, choosing his next words carefully, “but I got held up.”

Marinette chuckled. “I know how that goes.”

Felix nodded, his gaze shifting to the side. He didn’t want to worry her, but he couldn’t let her be ignorant of a possibly dangerous situation either.

“.. Were you, by chance, expecting anyone at the school today?”

Marinette frowned and shook her head, unfortunately confirming Felix’s concerns. “No, why?”

“Well..” He hesitated. “Someone stopped by and asked for you. A man by the name Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette’s entire body went rigid, and the blood drained from her face. Felix held back a grimace at the sight. She looked more frightened than two weeks ago when she first ran into the school to hide.

“D-Did you-”

“No.” Felix cut her off, already knowing what she was going to ask. “I told him you didn’t attend this school.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief, but he could still see the nervousness in her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness.. Thank you so much, Felix.”

“Is he the one who wanted to talk to you two weeks ago?”

Marinette faltered at the question, but nodded. “He went to my old school..”

Felix frowned. If he remembered his mother’s ramblings correctly, Adrien Agreste started attending Dupont not too long ago. Was that Marinette’s old school then?

“His father’s a powerful man.” He said. “You need to be careful.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I mean- Thank you for the warning.. But Adrien isn’t like that. He’s persistent, but he doesn’t threaten people.”

Felix wasn’t entirely sure that he believed that, but he wouldn’t argue. Marinette was dealing with enough already. “I believe he said something about a girl telling him that you’re attending Rosemary, but he didn’t mention the name of her.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together. “A girl?”

“Yes, something like ‘I could have sworn she said Rosemary’.”

Marinette chewed on her bottom lip, obviously troubled by the news. Felix didn’t blame her. Stalking can be a serious matter. (even if she didn’t quite consider it stalking.)

“Would you like me to drive you home?” He offered, yet again. 

And again, Marinette refused by shaking her head. 

“Thanks, but it’s only two blocks. I’ll be fine.” She assured.

The decision didn’t sit well with him, but Felix nodded anyway. It wasn’t his place to tell her what she could or couldn’t do, or what precautions he personally thought she should take.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He said, finally continuing his descent down the stairs. 

“Yep, see you tomorrow.” Marinette smiled.

They parted ways after that, Marinette heading down the sidewalk and Felix going to find his driver, but the urge to watch her didn’t leave his mind until she completely vanished around the corner.

Felix sighed, tapping his finger against the car door as he settled into the backseat of his car. Why did he want to follow her so badly?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything  @magnificentcrapposts  @moonnette

[taliaromanovaswife]

Exothermic

Summary: Meet the original character, plagued by amnesia after an accident. But what if a certain deadly assassin is the cure for that? 

Warnings: softly NSFW... like, it could be worse? Little swearing

The sound of her own, slow footsteps was her only companion on this evening's stroll through the sterile, clean corridors. Though barely audible, the noise was almost deafening to her and yet it did not manage to stop her mind from reeling. Nothing around her seemed familiar, starting with her room and ending with the smell of the hallways. There was absolutely nothing that managed to jog her memory so far, and it irked her. Apparently, she was a member of the greatest team of heroes that walked the Earth, but every time she looked into their faces, her brain could not connect the dots. And worst of all, every Avenger had told her that they were not allowed to help her; that her amnesia had to fade on its own terms and that telling her the truth could make it worse in the end. So, here she was. Eight weeks after an accident where she had been thrown through a window on the first floor, discharged from the hospital because her wounds were healing nicely, yet she still did not remember anything from her past. Nothing, except for her name, age and powers, but even that information was given to her.

Alexandra, twenty-five, defender and healer – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Pressing her palms against her temple, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at herself. Nothing happened, just like nothing had happened since the day she regained consciousness. She had no clue how her powers actually worked, but if she was a healer, then why was she unable to heal her own brain? “You're so stupid”, she cried out, banging the balls of her hands against her already aching head. “Why can't you work? I just want to know who the fuck I am?!”

She rounded another corner, walking past half a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows when she stopped dead in her tracks. Something in the corner of her eye had caught her attention, something she was unsure had been there before. Nevertheless, it was something that spoke to her and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of familiarity warming up her insides.

Taking a chance, the tall blonde tried the door handle, happy to find it unlocked. After light brown eyes had scanned the area to make sure that she was alone, tentative feet slipped through a small gap, still wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her now. She had been walking these halls since she was brought home, but had never noticed a piano up here, or anywhere for that matter. Not even downstairs in the bar. ‘Too expensive’, the man who introduced himself as Tony Stark had said when she had asked. ‘The last one got destroyed by Ultron’, a muscular, tall, blond guy had added before receiving death glares from the rest of the group. Alexandra had no idea who Ultron was. How could she, if she was still unable to put the pieces of her own past back together? And what about her present? Did she even go by her full first name or did she prefer it was shortened to Alex? Or even Lexi? Did she like being an Avenger? How strong was her power, how strong was she? She did not know and they did not tell her. But she felt drawn to the piano, as if it was calling out for her and that feeling eased some of her frustration.

Carefully lifting the fall board and locking it in an upright position, shaky fingers pressed down a combination of keys that her brain did not remember, but her muscles certainly did. Muscle memory, she sighed. How could she remember this but not even the bare minimum of her life? Her most important muscle was not working the way it should. Slender hands pulled the matching black piano bench out from under the instrument and she sat down, her fingers gliding over the keys like second nature as her feet hit the pedals.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to a different time. A different piano was in front of her and perfectly manicured short, red-painted fingernails produced a tune she could not hear. But if Alexandra had to guess, she was reliving a tiny bit of her memory. Maybe, hopefully, this was the pivotal ingredient that she had been missing.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to work the way they knew how to, her vision not providing much help anyway. And as the melody filled the air and cautious fingertips became more confident of their skill, so did her feet. Alexandra was no expert in how muscle memory actually worked, but she could not explain what was happening right now any other way. Her mind drew blank on the names of the songs that she brought to life, and yet, somehow her brain knew what belonged together and when she transitioned to a new melody. So she kept playing, kept her eyes shut tight and let her emotions rage freely like a wildfire.

Alexandra was so lost in her creations, she did not register the other person entering the room, nor did she feel their presence. Her upper body leaned into the music, swayed with every crescendo and diminuendo. The music consumed her entire system, every nerve ending was accommodating to her trance as the cells in her brain sprang into action. Still, her fingers danced over black and white keys in the most beautiful pattern she had ever heard.

Natasha Romanoff was utterly captivated by the sight before her eyes, as mesmerizing and enthralling as ever. From the moment she had stepped into the room, she stood still and quiet, simply listening to the melody with a sad smile on her face. There was something magical about the way that Alexandra commanded the keys under the pads of her fingers and she was glad she had suggested buying a piano for the younger woman. It was minutes later that she slipped her ballet shoes on and tied the ribbons around her ankles, green eyes never leaving the figure behind the piano. Even as she pulled her red hair into a neat bun – years of practice making the need for a mirror unnecessary – her gaze was fixed on the musician, waiting. The assassin had noticed the slight change in the other hero's posture, the deeper breaths and the parted lips. She knew what was coming, long before Alexandra herself had figured it out.

Words formed in her head. If one were to ask her, Alexandra would say she did not know where they came from, her brain not remembering the song. But her heart did, even if it did not understand the meaning just yet. “Dancing around in the rain again.”, she sang, finding the lyrics to the accords she played. Her voice was soft and quiet, trembling with insecurity at first. 'Cause you said that I was my only friend. Playing with the flowers that I picked myself. Because I know they won't come from anybody else. Wrap myself up to warm my hands. From the biting ice that you made them stand.”

As her favorite voice filled the room, velvety and clear, Natasha began to stretch her tired muscles. Last week's mission had been tough on all of them, and the ache from multiple hits and countless falls still lingered in her bones. It could have been worse, but it also could have gone a lot smoother and with less injuries. Still, there was no pain that could stop her from being here, from dancing to Alexandra’s song. Not her bruised ribs and most definitely not her bandaged wrist – just a sprain, she told everybody.

Tears began to form behind her closed eyes. How could she remember songs but not her life? What kind of sick and twisted condition was this retrograde amnesia and why would it not let go of her? And while her fingers moved across the keys without any mistakes, and her feet operated the pedals below them, the first tears spilled down her cheeks. She just wanted to remember. “I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.”

Natasha's heart broke for the person, as it did every day since the accident. She had thought that the first few days had been the hardest, when no doctor was giving a clear statement whether or not she would wake from the coma. Then, when Alexandra did wake up but did not know who she was, did not recognize her, the agent's entire world fell apart. Adjustments had been made before the young Avenger had been released from the hospital, hushed conversations that would make everybody feel left out had become the norm around the blonde hero. But every look into Alexandra's sad eyes chipped away at the – usually put-together – assassin. Natasha shook those thoughts from her head as she carefully pushed herself onto her tip toes and raised her arms above her head, extending her index finger and pinkie into perfect position. Out of everything she had been trained in on her way to become one of the deadliest assassins in Russian history, ballet had always been her favorite and to this day, she still used dancing as a stress reliever.

Brown, teary eyes fluttered open and the music abruptly stopped. Her fingers halted over the keys, her mouth remained agape as she stared at the woman who was introduced to her as Natasha Romanoff. She thought she was alone, but there stood the beautiful Russian, dressed in tight black leggings, a matching form-fitting black bodice and a white silken skirt. “I’m-“ She pulled her fingers in, forming fists that slowly clenched and unclenched with every passing second, her heart rate speeding up to the same rhythm. Nervously chewing on her own bottom lip, she stared at her own hands and then back at the other woman. “Was I not supposed to be in here?”, she asked anxiously, Natasha’s intense green eyes seemingly staring right into her soul.

“Please don’t be scared”, the assassin replied. “This is your home, you can be in every room you want to be in, use everything you want or need.” Graciously lowering herself back onto her entire feet and resting her hands on her hips, the redhead tried reassuring her. “You should feel at home here.”

The words were mumbled, but Alexandra still caught it and scoffed. “And yet, everybody stops talking when I walk into a room”, the woman shot back, smoothing her palms over the long, honey-blonde braid and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy being me right now, whoever I am. But you did not deserve this.” Everybody around here had been nothing but amazing towards her, despite her condition. Sure, their conversations stopped or changed, but that did not mean that she was not included in whatever topic followed after. “I can go, if you want to-“

“Please don’t”, Nat said in a haste, stopping herself before she could say the name that lingered on the tip of her tongue. She took deep breaths, reminding herself that Alexandra’s memory was yet to come back. “Would you play for me?”, she asked quietly, her lips curling into a smile. “Your song was very beautiful and I would like to dance to it.”

The blonde eyed the assassin apprehensively. Was this a regular occasion? Did she used to sing for other people? “Damn it, you stupid brain”, she cursed under her breath, eliciting a light chuckle from Natasha. Thinking about the request for a moment, she finally agreed. “Only if I am allowed to watch you dance.”

“Always”, the redhead smiled, her body protesting slightly as she pushed herself into the releve pose. She steadied herself before finding Alexandra's eyes. “Ready when you are.”

As if nothing had stopped her in the first place, expert finger tips roamed over the keys, picking up where they had left off. Once again, the melody resonated in the air, but this time, Alexandra only had eyes for the gorgeous woman dancing for her. Every part of Natasha’s body appeared to be in sync with her music and somehow the blonde knew that this was not the first time she had twirled to this particular song. “Dancing around in the dark again. But I'm happier now than I ever was then. Feel my heart as it is ablaze. Making room for another in these better days. Days, days.” Forcefully pressing the keys into the instrument as the music became louder and more spirited, brown eyes followed Natasha’s every motion doing the same. She did not notice the two figures standing on the other side of the glass, staring and smiling at her.

Wanda sighed in content, listening to the sound of Alexandra's beautiful voice. She and Natasha always begged the young hero to sing for them, or at least play one of her favorite compositions for them. It helped with the stress after a long day of work. It eased their minds and both women knew that the same applied to Alexandra. “Do you think this will help her?”, the witch asked aloud, her Sokovian accent less prominent now that she was spending most of her time around Americans. Cocking her head to the left but never averting her eyes, she added, “Natasha could use a sliver of good news.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Steve observed as one of his oldest friends danced. He let out a long breath. “I really hope so. I don't know how long Nat can keep going like this. It's ripping her apart.” The super soldier truly admired the redhead for still walking tall. He was not sure he could do the same. “If this doesn't work, then I don't know what could, besides telling Alex the truth. And the doctor's strictly recommended not to do that. But-”

“But at this rate, our most deadliest and finest assassin is no use on missions”, Wanda finished his sentence with a soft nod while watching the Black Widow dance with an elegance unmatched by anything she had ever seen.

“I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.” Alexandra's vocal cords vibrated deep within her throat as her voice reverberated with every word she sang. Louder and louder. The keys molded to her every tap and she had to focus on keeping her eyes open. She never let Natasha out of sight, but as the song went on, it was harder and harder not to give in to the music and let her feelings take over. “Oh, watch me exo, o, o, o. Watch me exo burn this. I deserve it, ohh. I deserved this. I deserve it, oh! I deserve this, woah!”

The Russian's feet hit the parquet floor in a faster pattern now, her body spiraling with every pirouette. The position of her hands was immaculate, the satin skirt wafted with every turn and yet, every time she spun around, her eyes locked on Alexandra's. Watching the other woman play with such intensity, like nothing had changed in the past weeks, made her want to cry. But Natasha swallowed her emotions and danced until the blonde stopped playing. She came to a stop, her breathing ragged and the pain from her bruised ribs jabbing into her sides. Still, Nat regretted nothing.

Neither of them said a word or dared to move. The last notes had long since faded away, but they still felt connected through the music. An invisible bond both held onto, fearing that breaking the silence would involuntarily end this moment of peace.

It was Alexandra who moved first, carefully closing the fall board and rising to her feet. “This was nice, we should do this again.” The comment came with a smile. She had not felt this free in weeks and even though her memories did not return – she had hoped they would – the blonde felt a lot better. “Thank you for the dance, Natalia”, she said out of a habit she did not understand. Hearing the sentence, but specifically that name, falling from her own lips caused a chain reaction. She froze on the spot and went stiff as her brain was flooded with millions of memories from her past. Missions and fighting. Loki, Ultron. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America. The Hulk. Clint and Wanda, her brother Pietro. Vision. Her healing a gash on Natasha's temple. Natasha. Everything came back to her, and all at once. And as her brain completed the puzzle, everything began to make sense again. The last image she saw showed Natasha – her Natalia – in a simple white dress and with white flowers in her red, wavy hair as she was waiting for her on the grass behind the Avenger's compound. And then finally, she remembered her full name. Alexandra Romanoff.

Natasha gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She had waited so long to hear her wife say her name again. No one ever called her Natalia, no one but Alexandra. “Sasha”, she whispered her lover's nickname, eyes filling with tears. With hesitant steps, she closed the gap between them. Soft hands cradled the blonde's face the second she was close enough. “I've missed you so much.” Her lips brushed against a tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you, for coming back to me.”

Gently taking a bandaged hand in her left, Alexandra carefully lowered their limbs. Her wife appeared tough on the outside and would never admit to anyone how much pain she truly was in. But brown eyes saw right through the facade. It had been those very same eyes that had torn down Natasha's walls, stone for stone, when they had started dating all those years ago. A mellow light radiated from her, encasing both women in the warmest, white gleam. Her powers searched for every single one of Nat’s injuries, healing them one after the other. “I will always come back to you, моя любовь. Always”, she promised.

Just as she leaned in for a kiss, Natasha saw the two people outside of the room move slightly – of course her trained senses had picked up on their presence earlier, but she had chosen to ignore them. “FRIDAY? Please close the blinds”, she asked the Artificial Intelligence in her sweetest voice. A swoosh sounded through the room as the shades dropped from the ceiling almost all the way down to the floor, effectively blocking every curious onlooker. “Now we are alone.” Her voice was husky now, even lower than the usual rasp that was just so distinctively hers. “You didn't notice?”

Alexandra shook her head. “I was watching you.” Pale cheeks blushed a dark shade of red when their lips were mere millimeters apart, their foreheads touching. She chuckled. “Even when my brain was all chaotic and weird, I could not stop looking at you.” Nudging her partner's nose with her own, she inhaled Natasha's perfume. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

The motion was barely visible as the red-haired woman shook her head. “It doesn't matter”, she whispered softly, stroking a few loose curls out of Alexandra's face and behind her ear. “What matters is that you remember now.” Finally pressing her lips against her wife's, she was immediately engulfed by the familiar warmth and love she had for the other woman. God, how much she had missed her.

Pale hands rested on either side of a slender hip, thumbs stroking the bone over the soft material of the dancer's outfit. The cutest little moans escaped her throat. This was what coming home felt like. Natasha was home. One of her hands slid lower, fingers fanning out over a firm bottom cheek as she smiled into the kiss. Tears of happiness ran down her cheeks.

“Don't cry, Милый”, Natasha whispered, wiping her lover's tears away with a gentle brush of her knuckles. “Please, don't cry.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, the blonde reconnected their lips. A dire need to be as close as possible to her wife was all she experienced in this moment. “Happy tears”, Alexandra assured between kisses, pulling the assassin even closer into her body. She relished in these moments, remembering how the redhead never let her guard down around anybody but her. It made every moment of intimacy even more special. “I love you.”

Her wife's breathless confession caused her heart to pound even faster in her chest. “I love you, too.” Strong hands moved to her lover's behind, cupping a cheek in each of them to hoist her up. She felt legs wrap around her waist as a squeal left Alexandra's mouth, followed by the most precious giggles. Natasha had to crane her neck now, due to the change in height, but it had always been one of her favorite things to do. “I love you so much.” A couple of quick steps later, a slim back collided with the wall behind the piano.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues danced to an unsung melody. Their hearts beat in sync, wanton lust overtaking both women. It took all of her willpower, but when she felt full lips suck on her neck, Alexandra let out a frustrated groan. She knew she had to put a stop to this for now. “I think we have a more suitable... room for this, Natalia”, she moaned, her voice dripping with desire. “Our room.”

Natasha hated to admit it, but her wife had a point. Their reconnecting deserved more than a quickie in the newly appointed music room. She pressed their lips together in one last heated kiss before carefully lowering the blonde back onto her feet. Both inhaled deeply to regain some composure and smoothed over their clothes. “Ready?”, she asked, reaching out her hand for Alexandra to take, her other one holding her sneakers and sweater that she had picked off the floor.

Fingers intertwined, they exited the room with mischievous grins tugging on their lips as they walked past Wanda and Steve who were engaged in a conversation in the middle of the hallway. But the couple did not pay any attention to them anyway, too absorbed in each other's presence. Throughout the entire way to their room, neither spoke a word. Yet, the silence was not uncomfortable.

“Everything is still as I remember it”, Alexandra spoke when she entered their suite and took a look around. “Even my slippers are still where I kicked them off before we had to rush into the mission.” Her leather jacket – a birthday gift from a time when they were engaged – was still draped over one of the chairs. She smiled lovingly at Natasha when she noticed another detail. “I see you've been sleeping in my shirts.” She was not mad about this; she could never be mad about this. Because if the roles had been reversed, the blonde would have done the exact same thing.

Natasha blushed lightly, shutting the door behind them and locking it with a twist. “They kept me sane”, she explained. “Some of them still smelled like you.” And if they did not, she always imagined her wife's unique scent on them. Coming up behind the blonde, the dancer looped her arms around a slim waist. “You are what keeps me grounded, but you were not with me. So this was the next best thing.” The truth was, nothing could ever compare to the real thing. She tightened her embrace. Delicate fingers moved a honey-blonde braid out of the way before soft lips began to caress the back of a creamy neck.

Turning in her wife's arms and instantly missing the touch against her skin, Alexandra nuzzled her nose against her lover's cheek. Her fingers found their way to the hair tie, pulling lightly so red curls could fall onto almost bare shoulders. “I missed the feeling of your hair between my fingers”, she breathed, burying her hands in silken tresses as she claimed crimson lips in a fierce kiss.

The air was full of sexual tension as both women tugged and tore at each other's close until either of them was left in only their underwear. Natasha unhooked her own bra first, knowing how much her partner enjoyed the view. When the garment landed on the floor, nimble fingers fiddled with the clasp of the necklace that held her wife's wedding ring until she finally slid it back onto its rightful place. She smiled brightly. “Much better.” Wasting no more time, the red-haired woman unceremoniously undid Alexandra's bra before moving on to the matching pair of panties. “I missed all of you”, she husked seductively in her wife's ear before nibbling on the shell of it. “Every. Single. Inch.” And as her hands were busy getting reacquainted with the blonde's naked skin, she maneuvered them towards their bed.

Alex could not stop the moans as they spilled past her lips between kisses. She tried dipping her hand into her wife's underwear but remained unsuccessful before she was pushed onto the mattress. As brown eyes opened, the irises shone with a passionate hunger. “Come here”, she beckoned, ogling her lover while Natasha stripped herself of the last article of clothing. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. “Natalia”, she groaned, growing impatient.

Knowing that teasing was not an option right now, and that it would ultimately cause both of them to suffer, the assassin climbed into the bed. Dainty hands wandered upwards, over pale ankles and satiny legs. Skipping her wife's sex on purpose and provoking a growl when Alexandra noticed what she was doing, the redhead did neither budge nor stop until she was once again face to face with the love of her life. “Hi”, she breathed against kiss-swollen lips as the pads of her fingers playfully fondled her wife's round breasts. Skillfully tweaking rosy buds into pebbled peaks, Natasha licked the blonde's full bottom lip, asking to be granted access.

Her mouth parted on its own accord, as did her legs to welcome the warm body on top of her between them. She let her hands rove over the smooth skin of Nat's back while the assassin played her body like an instrument. When wet lips encased one of her nipples, Alexandra arched even further into the touch, her own caresses never stopping.

Natasha hissed as she kissed a path from one boob to the other, certain that her lover's fingernails left crescent shaped marks on her right shoulder blade and neck. Her wife's nickname followed the next gasp, “Sasha.” Grinding her body into the one beneath her own, her slick center was mere inches away from Alexandra's. “Promise to never leave me again”, she pleaded, her voice barely audible against full lips.

“Not willingly”, the blonde assured her and wrapped her arms around her wife, holding her close. She could not even begin to imagine how hard the last weeks must have been on the other woman. “Never willingly, my love.” With a gentle nudge – in a moment of Natasha's inattentiveness – she flipped them so that she was now on top. “My promise to you will always stand, my beautiful Natalia. I will always love you and I will always come back to you”, she said, reciting parts of her wedding vow as she kissed along a creamy neck and toyed with hardened pearls. “If you're lost, I will find you.” Natasha's body bowed below her when she let her fingers dance over her ribs. “I will forever be yours.” When she looked up, she found Natasha's watchful gaze staring right back at her. “And you will forever be mine.”

Sneaking her left hand between them as Alexandra's traveled past her stomach, both women moaned vociferously when delicate fingers flicked each other's clits the way only they knew how. The Black Widow relished in the fact that the blonde had ruined her for anybody else and that she had returned the favor with pleasure. “Let go for me, Sasha”, she whined just as two of her lover's fingers slowly entered her. Mimicking Alexandra's action, the redhead eagerly swallowed her wife's whimpers.

The blonde's orgasm was approaching quickly and she could feel the walls around her digits tightening as well. Rubbing her thumb over her wife's engorged, needy bundle of nerves, she quaked when the assassin did the same. “I'm close”, she warned, her voice merely above a whisper as she pressed her forehead against Natasha's.

“Me too.” She loved their slow dance of passion and lust. There was no moment that she got to spend with her wife that she did not cherish. But tonight weighed a lot more as both women felt like they were coming home after being gone for weeks. “Come with me”, Natasha groaned, capturing full lips with her own seconds before she tumbled over the edge and Alexandra followed suit right after.

As both came down from their climax, the blonde felt the light strokes of fingertips as they pushed loose strands of honey-blonde hair out of her face. A satisfied smile spread across her lips. Her body revelled in the afterglow, tingled all over with bliss and adoration for the other woman. Lifting her head, she got momentarily lost in her lover's green eyes. “I am so in love with you, Natalia.”

“You will never know how much I love you, Sasha.” 

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 1 of Season 1

"We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂️ In the Pilot script, it has a woman giving birth to a baby boy in Poland in 1984 (potentially Five or maybe even Luther??) 

☂️ “Picture Book” is an absolute bop and no one can tell me otherwise

☂️ What if someone saw this parade of carriages and noticed that there were seven? Later Reginald announces that he adopted 6 kids, so I wonder if anyone saw the carriages earlier and heard Reginald's announcement and became confused

☂️ The concert hall in the Pilot script is in New York, which I assume is safe to assume in NYC. The script also mentions later that Diego drops the monocle in the Hudson River

☂️ The Pilot script originally had Allison in LA, and Klaus in Amsterdam (which he was supposed to be levitating in that scene)

☂️ Diego was originally supposed to be pretty brutal and violent

☂️ I am a huge POTO fan so having a medley of the songs from the musical is so awesome to hear. The first time I watched this episode and heard the violin starting to play, I was like “Huh, this really sounds like POTO” and then I realized it was! It gave me chills and still does to this day overtime I watch this scene

☂️ The dark and mysterious tones of POTO really matches the vibes of TUA well. It’s just so good, especially as a way to introduce Vanya. The first song Vanya plays is “Phantom of the Opera” which is a nice symbolism when introducing the Hargreeves Siblings. The song itself is Christine discovering who her true Angel of Music is, a strange masked man that everyone knows well but they truly don’t know who he really is, like with the Umbrellas and their separate personalities and struggles as actual human beings and not just as the superheroes the public knows them as. It also plays while showing Diego, who is a mysterious masked figure at that point. 

☂️ “Angel of Music” is basically Christine asking her angel to guide her, which is ironic that it plays while Klaus is getting out of a place that guides him down the right path, knowing that he’s immediately going to go do drugs again and to go down the “wrong” path

☂️ I wonder if the voice in Luther’s spacesuit as he receives his message is an automated voice or his robot named “Ben” like in the comics. I doubt it’s the latter, but who knows

☂️ Okay, here’s another POTO thing. Diego picks up his knife and wipes the blood off of it and tells the family “Your family is safe now” right as the start of “Think of Me” plays. The first lyrics of the song are “Think of me, think of me fondly” which can be seen as Diego wants the family to truly view him as a hero that saved them

☂️ Aaaand here’s another! Again, while “Think of Me” is playing, one of the parts in the song where Raoul sings “Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were” plays while the paparazzi begins questioning Allison about her father and siblings

☂️ Okay okay, last POTO thing. I especially love that "Music of the Night" plays when Klaus wakes up in the ambulance at night. It's so awesome! Especially since the song is basically about giving into your darkest desires, which Klaus clearly did

 ☂️ Goddamn is the music in the show amazing, and I’m not just talking about all of the fun lyrical songs! Jeff Russo you get a thumbs up from me

☂️ Ta-da! Here’s some portraits that are shown of the siblings with Reginald when they were young that are shown in the show

☂️ Even the first person Vanya sees when she arrives home doesn’t greet her/welcome her back 

☂️ Emmy and Elliot really played that awkward hug and greeting between Allison and Vanya well. You can feel the awkward tension (hey sisters)

☂️ According to the pilot script, Diego wears his mask practically all the time like in the comics

☂️ Luther was literally supposed to have a gorilla body in the pilot script

☂️ “Oh, YoU gOt BiG, lUtHeR”

☂️ Godddd the song playing while Vanya looks at the books on the shelf in including her own is 👌

☂️ Ah, there’s a book called “Lunar Living”

☂️ It might just be me, but it seems like the light shining onto Five’s portrait is ever so slightly askew

☂️ Vanya leaving the lights on and sandwiches for Five reminds me of someone leaving food outside for a stray cat

☂️ Five was originally supposed to be gone for over 22 years in the pilot script

☂️ I wonder at what point in each of the siblings’ lives did they realize, or at least they thought, their brother wouldn’t be coming home 

☂️ Babies 

☂️ There’s so many ape and monkey pictures and diagrams around Reginald’s office. Foreshadowing for Luther?

☂️ I love Klaus’s theme. It’s heard in almost every episode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJa9H8SY4wQ&list=OLAK5uy_k2NJivpu0PIwxrOmPVrqN4umBZaahOGWI&index=6

☂️ Why does Reginald have two pictures of himself featuring aircraft? In one of them he’s outside a private jet and the other is him inside a cockpit

☂️ I must say that the dialogue in the pilot script definitely closely mirrors the dialogue of the comics 

☂️ “Told me I should be careful who to trust” 👀

☂️ Something behind Elliot is moving

☂️ I was hoping for this to be a gazelle of some sort above Five’s portrait, but It’s an Gemsbok. However, the Gemsbok is an antelope and all gazelles are antelopes

☂️ “The Walker” playing during the bank robbery scene is 👌👌

☂️ Luther is ready to throw hands

☂️ These robbers really decided to rob a bank at 10:05 am?

☂️ I just love Five popping out of nowhere criss-cross applesauce 

☂️ Something that hasn’t been explained/fully shown is Five’s ability to teleport objects. He teleported the gun out of the guy’s hand and replaced it with a stapler

☂️ Five’s teleportation noise reminds me of something going really fast, like an aircraft breaking the sound barrier. It’s almost like a mini sonic boom, but not as loud

☂️ Okay so I’ve noticed this in most of the episodes, but I don’t think when Five teleports he makes an actual noise. I’ll point this out more as we continue through the episodes. At the bank scene when Five is on the counter, it appears that the first time he teleports the bank robber whips around when Five speaks. The second time the robber turns to Five simply because he doesn’t know where he went and he’s searching for the threat

☂️ “That’s one badass stApler”

☂️ When Ben asks if he has to go into the Vault, he looks at Klaus for reassurance even though Luther is the one speaking to him

☂️ Five was still pretty cocky back in his youth. They, or more like Ben, have more bad guys to take care of and he’s just chilling with his hands in his pockets and leaning back/slouching like he’s bored. His tone with the robber also proves that and the way he just happily bounds out of the bank

☂️ Sir, why are you looking at the camera

☂️ Luther’s little wave to the reporters when the Umbrellas come out of the bank is cute

☂️ The pilot script didn’t include a flashback of a bank robbery, but instead to the Umbrellas training when they were younger. There’s too much to screenshot to I’ll summarize it.

-Luther bench-presses over 500 lbs

-Diego has been holding his breath for about six hours and he flips Reginald off

-Klaus levitates stuff

-Allison is slacking off and when Reginald tells her to continue her training she simply rumors him that she doesn’t have to

-Ben is fighting guards and Reginald calls him “Number Six” to which Vanya, who isn’t supposed to be down there, corrects him that his name is Ben and reminds Reginald that they have names

- Five very quickly and quite brutally rips off the heads and limbs of training dummies, snaps their necks, and stabs them. He is referred to as “A ruthless little war machine.” Reginald calls him “Perfect”

☂️ The pilot script implies that Reginald had alien life mounted on the walls of his office

☂️ There wasn’t a dance scene in the pilot script

☂️ Not to get super into detail about this, but Luther’s room is filled with a lots of models and paintings of aircraft, mainly from WWII. Almost all of them are of Allied aircraft, and more specifially Commonwealth aircraft, like the RCAF. So this could be more of a clue to the Umbrellas living in Canada

☂️ Diego giving that Wildebeest head the stink eye aways makes me laugh

☂️ Klaus is dancing with Reggie’s urn in a Waltz fashion, so maybe he’s just doing that or it’s the ballroom dancing lessons they received as children peeing through

☂️ I love Diego’s dancing skills

☂️ Fuck you Five for ruining their dance party

☂️ Honestly Five’s portal is pretty powerful. Here’s a description of it from the pilot script

☂️ I like that when Luther tells everyone to get behind him and Diego copies him with “Yeah, get behind us” Luther lets his brother use himself as a shield instead be pulling the “I’m the leader, I’m the strongest” card

☂️ When Luther and Diego are shielding their siblings, Diego has his arm stretched out to guard Vanya

☂️ In the pilot script Five’s body is smoking when he comes out of the portal

☂️ What if when Five fell out of the portal he got knocked out so he just laid face down on the ground unconscious aksdhfjsafhd

☂️ “So are we gonna talk about what just happened?” No bitch, let him make his sammie first

☂️ Diego and Klaus had some sort of bet on Five’s time traveling in the pilot script

☂️ Here’s another example of Five’s teleportation possibly not making noise. When he teleports around while his siblings are questioning him, it looks like they only look at him when he appears and not when they hear a noise

☂️ Five in the pilot script is actually 62

☂️ “What part of the future do you not understand?”

☂️ I like that Five styled his hair to the exact style it was when he was actually young, but eventually gets looser throughout the season

☂️ Five is so oddly calm when talking to Vanya in front of his portrait

☂️ “Well, there are worse things that can happen.” “You mean like what happened to Ben?” Yeah there’s also an apocalypse on the way lol

☂️ Five actually got a hug in the pilot script! 

☂️ An ironic moment from the pilot script considering that Five is an assassin and has killed tons of people but this siblings don’t know that

☂️ When Diego is talking about their names and numbers in the courtyard, Five sighs, which I’m sure he’s just bored/has better places to be and is annoyed, but I’d like to view it as “Shit, I don’t even have a name”

☂️ Funny tidbit from the pilot script during the funeral scene “Whatever the hell you are”

☂️ Diego talks about how he assumed Reginald sent Luther to the moon because he couldn’t stand the sight of him, so he must be talking about Luther being like a “failed” leader or something? Like he couldn’t keep the team/his siblings together? Diego doesn’t know about his ape-like body so he’s not thinking about that.....

☂️ I love that Klaus reaches his arm out to guard Five, and that Five simply glares at him and bats his arm away

☂️ When Luther broke Ben’s statue, I can just imagine Ben yelling at Klaus “Seriously? Klaus, why didn’t you stop them?”

☂️ So I’m sure this is just a continuation error, but you can’t see Five walking away in the shot of Ben’s statue hitting the ground. Considering that he had just left, he should still be visible in the background. Again, probably a continuation error or maybe he even teleported inside

☂️ A detail I love about Luther is that his fingernails are dark due to the gorilla DNA

☂️ The bank robbery scene in the pilot script is after the funeral. Not much was changed for the actual first episode, just a few different scenes. Also the Umbrellas were described as gods

☂️ Vanya drawing the tattoo on her wrist hurts my heart

☂️ “Together, you will stand against the reign of evil” gives me chills 

☂️ “This is your home and always will be” is great foreshadowing to S3, and hurts my heart when I think about how it is in fact no longer their home

☂️ When I first watched this episode and saw Pogo watching Vanya I knew something was pretty sus

☂️ Just some gold dialogue from the pilot script during the scene of Five, Allison, and Klaus in the kid area and Five is complaining about coffee (but in the pilot script everyone but Vanya is there)

☂️ “An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, 19 bathrooms” goddamn the Academy is HUGE. Also 42 is just one away from being 43 👀

☂️ “I know how to do everything.” Yeah, like survive an apocalypse and professionally kill people :]

☂️ I’ve pointed this out before, but the license plate on the car that Five takes to Griddy’s says HERMES, which is the license plate of his car in the comics

☂️ The exit sign in the background is only half lit up to where it says EX and if my memory serves me correctly that’s the door Vanya and Leonard enter the Academy through in episode 6

☂️ Diego telling Klaus to lean back is like “Ugh I don’t want him with me, but safety first”

☂️ I love that they added his feral chimpanzee smile from the pilot script into he show

☂️ “You won’t be going home.” Cocky smartass strikes again. Not to mention he smiles when he says that. He also says this to the men before he kills them in the pilot script

☂️ Before I even knew about TUA, I had heard of the “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” scene and looked it up. I remember thinking “Wow, that kid is scary.” Now I think “Wow, that old man is scary.”

☂️ I love the little salute he does before he blinks away, and the way his basically just plays with these men like a cat playing with its prey. He knows he’s going to kill them, but he wants to have fun doing so

☂️ Five had some fancy moves in the pilot script

☂️ Five teleporting his tie around the man’s neck is another example of him teleporting an object. Can we see more of this actually happen in S3 please?? I also love the fact that he takes it off the man’s body and puts it back on

☂️ The way he calmly, or tiredly, snaps the man’s neck is chilling to see from a child’s body. This was also included in the pilot script *chanting* Feral Five, Feral Five, Feral Fi-

☂️ It’s honestly such a cool and iconic scene on the show. It truly shows that Five is fully capable of handling himself, and is/was great at his job

☂️ Having the city at night in the background of Diego dropping the monocle is really pretty

☂️ I really like the way they revealed Ben. Having watched both season and now watching this scene again is a bit awkward when Ben doesn’t talk. He’s probably just tired of Klaus 

☂️ “The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.” This line combined with the music and the previous scene of Five in the apocalypse is powerful and chilling and I love it

☂️ I love that they have The Umbrella Academy theme playing during the credits in both seasons

-------

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[writeyouin]

Hey there! Your fanfics are incredible! Could you please write a Will Turner X Reader one where the reader goes back in time after watching Pirates of the Caribbean and then the reader and Will fall in love? Thanks a lot in advance! :)

Will Turner X Fem-Reader - Life Inside a Movie

A/N – All better from being ill, so here is a fic.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You leaned over one of Port Royal’s railings, humming a tune that only you knew in this time period. From afar Will Turner watched you, listening to the occasional lyric that you whispered under your breath; the song was just as unusual and out of place as you were.

“Dancing in the moonlight, everything is weird and out of sight,” You sang, staring up at the night sky. 

It was something you did every night. Once, shortly after Will had found you and given you a place to stay, he had asked you why you were so obsessed with the sky. You had told him that where you came from you could never see any of the stars because of something called light pollution. He hadn’t understood what that was, even when you tried to explain it, nor did he understand how one place could have less stars than anywhere else, but he did like that the sky brought you peace. He just wished you didn’t insist on going out every night to view them because there were some nights he couldn’t be out to protect you, and even a peaceful place like Port Royal had its fair share of criminals.

“You can join me if you want,” You said, fully aware that Will had been watching you from afar.

When the two of you first met, Will would have found your forward manner and your knowledge that he was there unnerving; now it was starting to rub off on him as one of your many qualities.

“It would me my honour, Miss (L/N).”

“I’ve told you before, where I’m from we always use first names.”

“And I have told you, it is my pleasure to use your beautiful last name and give you the respect you deserve.”

You smiled to yourself, thinking about how different life had been before you had come to this time. How sad it was to think that chivalry eventually died out, and yet how nice it was to be one of the few from your timeline to receive it.

You thought about the film Pirates of the Caribbean which you had watched the night that the mysterious portal opened in your apartment, leading you into the film itself.

When you first arrived, you had fallen right into the forge, spraining your ankle in the process. Fortunately, the Forge’s owner and Will’s master was asleep, so he didn’t notice the portal that had brought you to Port Royal; you had a feeling that if he had seen it, you would have been in the gallows for sorcery.

Shortly thereafter, Will had returned from a delivery and found you. At first when he saw your strange clothes and unusual hairstyle, he had considered reporting you to the royal guard, suspecting you to be a pirate. It was only when you begged him for help that he paused. It soon became clear that you knew nothing about the finer arts of piracy; you couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that would have made for a very poor pirate indeed. All the same, Will still didn’t trust you so he demanded to know your story, otherwise he would have no trouble seeing you imprisoned, for they very rarely hung women unless the offence was as bad as murder.

Knowing Will was an honourable character from the many times you had watched his film, you came up with a story for yourself that sounded fairly reasonable. You told him you were a simple bookkeeper from a foreign land, who had been stolen by pirates along with a great many others. In the tale, you alone escaped on a lifeboat and had made your way to the nearest island. All in all, you didn’t think it was a bad explanation. The bookkeeper was a reasonable job that would explain why you could read and write so well, and if Will asked, you could say you sprained your ankle upon escaping.

With a few more questions, Will soon believed you and he offered to take you to the boarding house where he lived, even paying your rent until you could get a job. You insisted you would pay him back, but Will thought little of it; after all, he was far too concerned trying to figure you out.

To be frank, you scared Will at first. In Port Royal women and even most men didn’t know how to read. Then there was the fact that you were educated in even more fields than the governor himself. You knew maths, geography, world culture, and more science than anybody he had ever met. While you were only of average intellect in your time, you were a fountain of knowledge in this time. Will asked you where you had learned such wondrous things and you had replied that you had learned all you knew in school and college, but what schools even let women in? He thought you must have been fabulously wealthy in your old land to receive such a fine education.

Although you gave Will much cause for concern, your friendly attitude and the fact that you didn’t scorn his lack of schooling made him begin to trust you. Instead of fearing your knowledge, he began to ask questions of you. He started to think of you less as his responsibility and more as a friend. Given time, he even found a job for you as a secretary for the governor himself, though it took a fair amount of convincing that a woman could do the job.

You offered to pay Will back for the money he had lent you thus far but he rejected the offer, claiming it was the place of any gentleman to help a lady in distress. At that, you started paying your own rent, and to repay Will’s kindness you had taken to cooking him meals after his long days at the forge. Although you weren’t the world’s greatest cook at home, it seemed your knowledge of ingredients and flavours made you an excellent cook in Port Royal; Will often said you ought to open a restaurant after you had introduced him to pizza.

You hummed thoughtfully, leaving your reverie far behind to simply enjoy Will’s company on the Port Royal balcony.

“What great aspects of the world are on your mind tonight?” Will asked, loving your ever-intelligent answers.

“What in the world, you ask. That’s cute. One should never have just the world on their mind, Will.”

“Oh? So what do you think of instead, if not the world?”

“I think of the universe and my new place within it.”

You had explained the concept of the universe to Will before but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. People were still discovering new islands of the sea from one week to the next. How could anyone possibly know if there were other planets if the human race hadn’t even discovered everything on Earth yet?

Despite his personal opinions of the universe, Will liked the sentiment of your words. “And where do you think your place is?” He asked.

You yourself pondered the question. It was a hard one to answer. In Port Royal, with your education, the sky was the limit, but you were a woman. At home, you had the freedom to do what you wanted when you wanted, but everyday life was lonely and filled with a world of people that didn’t care for anyone but themselves. Truthfully, it didn’t matter where you would have liked to be. It all depended on whether fate would ever reopen another portal and throw you back where you came from or whether you would be left in Port Royal forever; perhaps it would be a continuous loop of being thrown back and forth, though you highly doubted that.

You realised that Will was waiting you an answer, so you smiled, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps then, Miss (L/N), if I may be so forward as to say so, you might find that your place is here.”

“In Port Royal?”

“By my side,” Will corrected, swallowing nervously when you turned to face him.

At home, people who said such things to you were always just playing a cruel joke, but you knew Will was being sincere; he always was. For one guilty moment, your thoughts lingered on Elizabeth Swann; if you accepted Will’s proposal, then she would never experience his love, nor he hers.

“I-” Playing things safe for a moment, you dared to ask, “William Turner, are you saying what I think you are?”

“Miss (L/N)- (Y/N),” Will grabbed your hands earnestly. “I was a simple man before I met you, but you have opened my eyes to a whole new world. I may not have much to offer in respects of wealth or position and I have no doubt that you deserve somebody of better station than myself, but I love you and that is something I can offer you now and forever. You have my heart, if you will take it, and even if you do not, it shall still be yours, for I shall never offer it to another.”

“I don’t- I mean- What about Miss Swann? I thought you loved her.”

Will grimaced. He himself had also believed he was in love with Elisabeth Swann, but now after feeling real love towards you, he realised that what he had felt for Miss Swann was merely infatuation after she saved him during their shared childhoods.

“No (Y/N), I can say without a doubt that I love you most ardently. I understand if you do not wish to be with me or if you need some time to think-”

“No,” You interrupted curtly. You shook your head, searching for an explanation at Will’s curious expression, “I- I don’t need time to think. I just- Wow, um- Sorry, I know I’m messing things up here.”

Will managed to chuckle at your ever-strange manner of speaking, putting you somewhat at ease.

“At home, I could never have expected such a wonderful proposal, from anyone. I would say that except for a small few, romance is dead and most marriages are… well, complicated for lack of a better word. It seems that where I’m from, we write a lot of love songs and books just dreaming about the life we want. Nobody would ever even talk to me with the respect that you do; only royalty get spoken to like that.” You realised you were saying a lot of things Will would never understand, but what else could you do when you were sorting through your feelings for a film character. “Will- I- I love you.”

Will released his breath, feeling his heart pound ecstatically. He wanted to draw you into his embrace, but he still kept to his own gentleman’s code.

“(Y/N), with your permission, I would very much like to kiss you now.”

“I- Yes.”

Will raised a hand slowly to your cheek, stroking it gently. His eyes searched your face, memorising every detail of what would be his first kiss. He wondered if this was yours too, considering how different both your homes were. Trailing his hand down to your chin, he tilted your head up.

“You’re shaking,” He said, worried that you had suddenly changed your mind about him.

“I’ve never had anybody look at me the way you do,” You whispered anxiously. “It’s terrifying, in a good way.”

Will gave you a small smile, leaning in slowly to press his lips against yours. He did nothing to deepen the kiss, keeping it simple; it would be improper to do more when the two of you had only started courting that very night. However, as his lips parted from yours, he knew he would take every future opportunity to kiss you, his new love.

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[erin-bo-berin]

Wanna Be Bad

MASTERLIST

I’ll be honest, the idea for this fic came when I was listening to early 2000′s music from my childhood. This was inspired by the song I Wanna Be Bad by Willa Ford (hence why I titled it after the song). If you want to check out the song or listen to it while you read this (which I recommend) you can do so here. Gotta admit though that little 8 year old me had no idea what the ACTUAL meaning of the song was until much, much later.  Anyway, this is a different format than I have written so far, cause I’ve included the lyrics in the story since different parts seem to actually describe what’s going on. The lyrics will be in italics between parts of the story. Hope you all enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut)

Word Count: 3,524

Do you understand

What I need, need from you?

Just let me be the girl 

To show you, you

Everything that she can be

Is everything that I can be

Fucking Spencer Reid.

Spencer Reid; aka your FBI partner and the one man that you can’t get out of your mind. 

He’d been your partner for over 3 years and extremely welcoming when you joined the Behavioral Analyst Unit of the FBI. At first, he wasn’t a problem and you were friendly.

Until it slowly dawned on you just how attracted you are to him. It had hit you like a bucket of ice water had been poured over your head. That shock was bad enough.

What was worse was the no fraternization between team members rule that came from the unit chief. She was friendly and a team player but it was something that she was strict about. It had never been a problem before, since the rest of the team’s significant others were not a part of the BAU, let alone worked in the FBI. 

But here you were, with a growing attraction to him. It was a crappy situation knowing that your one sided sexual tension with him could never be acted upon simply because you knew Spencer was one to follow the rules. 

My turn

Let me let you know that 

I can’t promise that I won’t do that

So, boy say the time and place

Cause you make me want to misbehave

The things you would do the man.

The things you wish you could do to him.

Your eyes follow him, along with the other teammates. He’s currently explaining a geographical profile he’d worked on for a current case. You’re thankful that all eyes are on him because it disguises your own staring.

You can’t lie, your partner is drop dead gorgeous. Over 6 feet tall—coming in at approximately 6’1, he’s long and lean but with some definite muscle to him. He’s not scrawny like he once was, something the team likes to playfully tease him about, once showing you pictures of the decade younger Reid.

He’s also gotten even more attractive as he aged. Not that he wasn’t cute when he was younger, but he’s aging like a fine wine. At 38, he’s even better looking than you could fathom. 

His brown locks that he always changes up is now on the longer side, his curls sometimes more wild, sometimes more tamed. You’ve imagined many times running your fingers through them.

His dark eyes are as much of a wild card as he is. At times appearing green, others looking like a rich brown. You’d guess they’re hazel but you’re not exactly sure. It’s not like you can bring that up into a random conversation without sounding totally crazy. 

He sported more of an unshaven look these days. After many years of being clean shaven as a young FBI profiler—again, you’d seen plenty of pictures—he had quite the scruffy look going on. Needless to say, you were a big fan.

Now, his lips, something you’d fantasized about a lot. He had lips most women would envy, plump and quite the pale shade of pink. Sometimes they’d darken a shade when he bit down on them while he was thinking.

Speaking of, he had one of the best smiles you had probably ever seen on a man. One that was sure to get any woman’s lady bits roaring.

He kinda also had this habit of licking his lips. It was definitely something he wasn’t conscious of as he did it quite often. Whether it was while he was working, when he was thinking, before saying something, everytime it happened you could feel a desire form deep within you.

Oh, the things that tongue could potentially do.

But it didn’t stop with just looks with the good doctor.

His mind was probably the sexiest thing about him. 

His brain was filled with an immense amount of knowledge. At first it had surprised you at just how attractive you found it, but you quickly learned that you loved to hear him share his facts and statistics. He truly was like no other.

Sometimes you purposely mixed up your facts just so he’d correct you.

And he would. Every single time.

It’s a shame he couldn’t talk smart between your legs.

Spencer Reid was definitely a wild card alright. 

To be so smart, he was hard to figure out. He always seemed to be more reserved with you than the rest of the team members. You knew it could possibly be the case that he’d known them longer, but it always felt like he held himself back.

Your eyes followed his movements, his hands gesturing wildly at his display as he talked. 

His hands were large, with long slender fingers, often used to mess with a pen or pencil absently, or to push his hair back out of his eyes. You didn’t have to explain the kinds of things you’d imagined regarding them.

Today, he was in a navy blue suit, a purple button down and a matching navy tie. He looked good. Not saying there wasn’t a time that he wasn’t, but there was something about today’s attire that was better than usual. 

Purple really suited him, you thought.

It’s a shame (really, a damn shame) that you knew he would never break the rules because if he ever named the time and place...well let’s just say you wouldn’t turn him down in the least.

Maybe it was time to up your game a little.

I wanna be bad

You make bad look so good

I got things on my mind

I never thought I would 

In any other situation you would’ve never thought about tempting fate and ignoring a rule made by your boss. You had sense enough to know it was a bad idea, but something about Spencer was so intoxicating, it was like you could never get enough. The desire burned through you constantly like a paper set aflame.

You told yourself it wasn’t a crime to look nice for work. You had a job where it was reasonable to be a bit more dressy and make yourself look nice. But deep down, you knew you wanted to test the limits.

You went to work one day dressed in a tight black fitting skirt, one that hugged your ass perfectly along with a turquoise button down, some cleavage purposely on show. Paired with a pair of your strappy black work heels, you were prepared to face the day.

Never in a million years did you imagine doing something like this, but here you were. Wild thoughts of Spencer ran rampant in your mind, even in the middle of cases to the point you had to try twice as hard to focus. Maybe it was time for him to have a taste of his own medicine.

It puzzled you for most of the day when he seemed to ignore you more than usual. You’d figured your attraction to him was one sided, but the change in his behavior hurt a bit, knowing he was only interacting with you when he absolutely had to. At the end of the day, he was still your partner.

It was only during a briefing later on, when you were actually entirely focused on work that you felt eyes on you. Your gaze cut across the table just in time to see Spencer’s eyes rake across you, licking his lips in the process. His eyes cut away quickly when his met yours and he grabbed for his cup of coffee taking a drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

He was definitely trying to appear as if he wasn’t just staring at you moments before.

A heat stirred within you as you’d realized what had just happened. 

Something was brewing.

I, I wanna be bad

You make bad feel so good

I’m losing all my cool

I’m about to break the rules

I, I wanna be bad 

The tension had begun, ironically, during a raid on a case you were working on. 

After working surveillance with Spencer alone, you’d caught the perp in the act and called for backup immediately. SWAT was already ahead of you, waiting for instructions.

In efforts of a surprise takeover, you both were hidden in a cramped space to try and locate his current location before you sent SWAT inside.

His breath was hot on your neck and you were pressed against him, his chest flesh with your back, all while your ass was pressed against his crotch.

You didn’t miss his sharp intake of breath even though you pretended not to hear it.

Attempting to free yourself of the small space, you happened to brush across him, more specifically his crotch. His hand immediately flew to your hip, grabbing you a little harder than necessary. Your mind was whirling enough as it was at the close proximity.

“Not yet,” he whispered, low enough for you to hear, “SWAT’s about to go in.”

A moment later you both were on the move behind them, announcing that you were FBI. But you didn’t forget the moment that was now seared into your mind.

Spencer was definitely the only one you’d break the rules for.

I want to be bad with you, baby

•

What’s up?

Tell me what to do, how to be

Teach me

All your rules from A to Z

But I don’t want your other girl to see

That you’re messing ‘round with me

You and Spencer didn’t speak about the incident.

But suddenly, his rules had seemed to change.

When it was just the two of you, he actually seemed to flirt with you.

“You not tired yet?” he’d grinned, seeing you pick up more paperwork you’d need to complete before next week.

“Oh, but what if I said that this stack was all yours Spence?”

“Oof,” he mock grimaced, putting a hand dramatically over his heart, “Why do you wound me so?”

You chuckled, plopping it down on your desk, before sitting in your chair.

“Unfortunately, that pile is all mine.”

“Well maybe I can stay late to keep you company and watch you in your misery.” A smirk ghosted over his lips.

You bit your lip, watching him.

He was definitely flirting. Wasn’t he? But you could admit you were bantering more with him, returning his own flirty comments. 

Only, that is, when no one else was around.

It wasn’t a secret that things like this had to be hidden from your unit chief. If she had caught wind or even a tiny bit of suspicion what was simmering between you both, you could possibly be in trouble.

“Oh please, don’t go out of your way to ruin your evening plans with my misery,” you deadpanned, even though he knew you were kidding.

“Let me know if you need anything. A pen, food, a shoulder to cry on.”

You peer sideways at him, half grinning.

“What was that last one?”

He points to his shoulder, a faux frown on his face before chuckling.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Should I boy?

Tell me what I got is what you want

Tell, tell me do I, I turn you on?

I don’t want no one judging me

You cannot believe that the team suggested you and Spencer being the ones to go undercover to catch your current unsub. Of all the places.

You were tracking an unsub that was currently killing exotic dancers; his hunting ground being a certain strip club which is where you were currently undercover as, you guessed it, one of the dancers.

Spencer, on the other hand, was dressed as one of the many rich gentleman in the audience, playing the part of another regular man come to see the show. You both had your eyes out on the floor in search of our current unsub.

“Y/N,” came from the hidden earpiece was your boss.

“Be as coy as possible, but refuse any activities with any of the other men. We want to see if that brings our unsub out. You tell them your client is Reid, got it?”

You groan inwardly. This was your worst nightmare due to the fact that your sexual tension was at an all time high with him. You’d rather not jump him with the whole team just outside.

As part of your undercover identity, Candi, you were dressed in a tasseled, silver one piece, cut all the way down your torso to show off your stomach, your boobs practically spilling out of the small swath of fabric covering them. There was just enough fabric to cover your nether regions and it all tied in the back with two thin strings. Basically, it left little to the imagination.

“Sweetheart, how about a little dance?” came from your left.

A distinguished looking gentleman, with white hair held out a twenty in your direction, a grin on his face.

“Sorry, already promised one to that gentleman,” you motioned to Spencer, who was in character, watching some of the other dancers, his eyes roaming the room before they landed on you.

“Gotta go,” you said, with a flirtatious smile. 

The man shrugged and turned his attention to another girl.

You approached Spencer, trying to calm your nerves and keep in character. You put a hand on his shoulder flirtatiously and greet him.

“Hi there, big boy.”

You walk around to face him, hands resting on the back of his chair as you lean into him, pushing your ass outwards while pressing your breasts against his chest.

“How’s it going?” you mumble lowly in his ear. 

Your hands trail over his shoulders as your hips sway back and forth in front of him.

“Nothing yet. I, um, I’ve been keeping an eye out.”

You nod, continuing on. You flip your hair as you turn, your ass grazing his crotch. Your hands glide up your legs as you turn to face him again, your touch moving up your stomach reaching your boobs, beginning to rub them sensually as you bite your lip. Your eyes lock on his as your hands slide up his thighs before you settle in his lap, his hands resting on your bare sides.

His eyes haven’t left you since you began and you see his teeth scrape his bottom lip momentarily. 

“Anyone look suspicious?” you whisper, leaning forward as your hips grind slowly.

His breathing sounds heavier than before and he struggles to answer your question.

“One guy in the corner hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”

Your fingertips trail down his chest. Holding on to the edge of the chair, you lean backwards slowly, in an attempt to be tantalizing and sexy like you’ve seen the other girls do, but also to see the guy Spencer was referring to. You peer to the corner towards your left quickly and see what he’s talking about. 

You hum your agreement and move upright, one arm raised above your head, your fingertips trailing down the opposite arm. His fingers dig into your hips as your hips circle above his crotch.

“Y/N,” he rasped.

It’s then that your thigh brushes his crotch that you can feel he’s hard. You inhale, your eyes widening the slightest as you look at him; his eyes haven’t left you.

Suddenly a voice fills your ear and you know Spencer heard it too.

“We got him!”

I wanna be bad

You make bad look so good 

I got things on my mind

I never thought I would 

After a clothes change, you were back in your normal clothes post undercover job. The heat still burned inside of you hours after what happened at the club. 

You all, indeed, captured the right unsub. Apparently you had caught his eye since you were “new”. Looked like Spencer had been right.

Speaking of, he had practically disappeared after the team bust in to arrest him. You hadn’t seen him until you had gotten back to the BAU and even then he was across the room discussing a closing report with one of the other agents.

You bit your thumbnail as you paced the room. You couldn’t hold out any longer and you knew you had to do something. You were in an empty office down the hall from the BAU unit, knowing he’d be down the hall at any moment. 

Mere minutes later you heard footsteps and you opened the door just enough to see him coming down the hall, looking at a file as he walked. You grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, closing the door behind him.

His back was against the door and he looked down at you, a slight squint to his eyes, his tongue moving over his lips as he—as usual—licked his lips.

“I had to do something,” you said by way of explanation before grabbing him by his tie and pulling him down towards you.

I, I wanna be bad

You make bad feel so good

I’m losing all my cool

I’m about to break the rules 

I, I wanna be bad 

Your lips met his in a burning kiss. You heard a plop of the file as he tosses it carelessly on the floor before pulling you closer, his lips moving quickly with yours. His hands hooked behind your thighs and he hoisted you up, carrying you towards the empty desk in the room.

“Fuck, earlier,” he breathed, kissing down your jaw, “You drove me crazy.”

“I kinda sensed that,” you chuckled, “Sorry about that.”

He nips your jaw, bending lower to kiss your neck as he sets you on the desk.

“All it took was one look at you in that outfit and I was already hard,” he groaned into your neck, sucking on a spot before flicking his tongue over the bruised skin.

“Why Spencer Reid, do I turn you on?” you smirked, pulling at his tie to undo it.

“Fuck yes. Probably as much as I turn you on, sweetheart.”

Your teeth raked over your bottom lip as the heat roils inside of you. You’re throbbing with want and need; you have an itch only he can possibly scratch.

He has your shirt over your head before you can even get his tie off. He lowers you back against the top of the desk, kissing down your torso, his hands working to remove.

“This is an unfair advantage here,” you moaned, “You’re way overdressed.”

He tosses his tie before pulling off your pants and underwear and you sit up on your elbows, watching him.

With one lick up your slit, you’re a moaning mess.

“I always imagined you talking smart between my legs,” you mumbled, anticipating his next move.

“Mm, that’s something to try another day,” Spencer smirks, unfastening his pants.

He leans over you, kissing you roughly as he slides inside you. He moans against your mouth, his teeth gently tugging your bottom lip as he pulls away and thrusts slow and deep within you.

“Damnit, Spencer you are not going to tease me now like you have for the last 3 years.”

He chuckles, standing upright again, pulling you to the edge and as closely as possible to him as his hips move faster and harder.

It’s rough and fast as if you can’t get enough of each other and he’s quickly got you writhing on the desktop.

“Fucking shit, Y/N,” your name drags from his lips in a low grown. 

This was so much better than you’d even imagined, the lighting fire of ecstasy in your veins being caused by no one but him. Your hands grip the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Spence!” you shrieked loudly as he hits a particular sensitive spot.

You’re so glad there’s no one else around down the hall.

“Oh my god,” he moans, his own release falling over him.

Your gaze takes in his slackened jaw and thrown back head, his throat vibrating with his groans. It’s so incredibly sexy, you almost go over the edge yourself at the sight.

His thumb circles your clit, insistent on getting you off as well. The pressure builds inside you until you can’t contain it anymore and you let go, ecstasy flowing through your veins, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

When you finally feel like you can breathe again, you struggle to sit up, already missing the feeling of him inside of you.

“Good God, if only I knew you were as good at that as you are at profiling,” you said, half dazed, reaching for your clothes as he hands them to you.

He snickered as he pulls himself together, bending down to pick up the file on the floor and heads to the door. He stops with one hand on the doorknob and looks at you.

“You know, I kinda hope this isn’t a one time thing,” he said, almost meekly.

Your answer puts a smile on his face.

“Believe me. Next time, I’m having my way with you.”

I, I wanna be bad.

[violent-backed-starling]

An Essay For your Consideration

The Manson Family, Heaven’s Gate, The People’s Temple; all are fairly well-known cults. They are known because of what they did. They all made the news in the worst possible way. The Manson Family murdered innocents because their prophet commanded them to. Heaven’s Gate ended in a mass suicide. The People’s Temple ended with a mass murder/suicide. These are all traumatic and shocking events. It is because these are so well known and present in the public eye that these cults in particular have shaped the way people portray cults in the pieces of fiction they write. This is evident from The Order in the Silent Hill Series by Keiichiro Toyama to The Village by M. Night Shyamalan. The cults in the media are always dark, unhinged, or at the least upsetting to most people, which is why the viewer generally ends up rooting for the hero. In a particular fictional cult they express several of the above traits. In the 2019 horror comedy musical Black Friday, written by Matt and Nick Lang with music and lyrics by Jeff Blim, there is a cult that goes about the mall doing similar crimes. This kind of behavior is extreme. In general, cults while still awful and problematic in their own rights, do not go to such horrific lengths. The Wiggly cult in Black Friday has extreme behaviors, even by cult standards.

When the cult first formed in the mall in Black Friday it was not completely horrible, unhinged yes, but not completely irredeemable. Over the course of a few mere hours they turned to savage actions in order to get what they wanted. It started off with just burning down the Cinnabon in the mall as a “sacrifice to a dark god”. Their actions only escalated from there. The cult’s prophet, Linda Monroe, slit the throat of the manager at Toy Zone when he could not get her a Wiggly doll immediately, even though he tried to bargain with her saying that he could contact the manufacturer and get her a Wiggly doll. She later tried to have one of the cultists murder a teenage worker at Toy Zone, presumably for lying about having one of the Wiggly dolls. She lied about the Wiggly doll to protect her sister who carried it, unknowingly, in her backpack. The teen worker managed to escape and find help in the end, but she was supposed to be murdered. The cultists also ended up finding this worker’s sister and taking her back to Linda who threatened her with a knife when she found out the sister no longer had the Wiggly doll. She most likely would have been murdered by Linda if there had not been help coming from her sister. The cult eventually died in a fire when the whole mall burned down due to the Wiggly doll being set on fire, because they refused to leave the Wiggly doll that they had gotten ahold of and were fighting over who would be the new prophet since Linda had been shot and killed. The cultists literally burned alive instead of escaping because of their cult and them wanting to be the new prophet. That is an absolutely horrific and painful way to die. Them burning alive for their god is a prime example of extreme behavior. Even when it comes to the more extreme cults, they generally do not end up with cultists burning alive, voluntarily. This kind of behavior is why the Wiggly cult in Black Friday is not a regular cult.

Cults show up on the news on occasion. Those cults are generally more violent and upsetting because what they do or what they did has to be something awful to get them onto the news. NXIVM is a cult that has made headlines semi recently since they did awful things like brand women and make women give them blackmail materials so they could not leave the cult once they joined. This sounds bad and horrific and is only scratching the surface on what truly was going on, but they did not commit murder or mass suicide. This is also just one case, a case that made headlines no less. When it comes to the easily recognizable hallmarks of cults the ones that come to mind are the manipulation of their members, brainwashing, and the separation of members from their family and friends. Cults usually end up separating the members away from their family and friends in order to make them more vulnerable and likely to stay within the cult. The cults also sometimes take money from their followers who, believing that will be put to a good cause, give it to the leader. That money is usually used to benefit the leader of the cult in some unorthodox way, like buying a sports car or nice worldly possessions. While that sucks and no one should take advantage of people like that, it is still far better than murder. In Wiggly’s cult they were willing to kill for one of the Wiggly dolls. Their prophet wanted four of them, but not a single person in the cult had one until the end and when they finally got one it was Linda’s, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The people that also were part of the cult had problems because that was how Wiggly ensnared them. They were part of the cult of comfort because of their own issues and wanted relief.  That is the same reason why many people joined NXIVM. Keith Raniere presented his cult as an MLM that sold courses for self improvement. In Black Friday Linda had an affair with her lawyer and desperately wanted to be adored. The other cultists had similar issues, one had recently lost a job, another was homeless and so on. This cult of comfort had people under its thumb believing in their new god, Wiggly.

There is also the issue where people blend the lines between cults and religions. The fact is that they do overlap in areas, and many cults are based upon being a religion. Thomas Robbins explains that the ways religions have become more cult like has affected the studies of the sociology of these religions. Then the other group that cults overlap with is political parties. There are a number of political cults as well. The Cult of Cheka in Russia is a big one. The public sees that “the FSB continues to promote a positive image of the Cheka in the public imagination”. This cult is pushed to be in the public eye and is supposed to be thought of as good. It is literally a government supported cult. That is because this is a secret police kind of deal. That implies that this lies on the more extreme side of cults as well, but that is the way most of the well known ones are. Wiggly’s cult has both of these aspects to it. Linda is Wiggly’s prophet because he is a dark god from another dimension, but the reason people love and believe in him is capitalism. Wiggly is not only an interdimensional being with the powers of a god, he is also the little dolls that were sold in the Toy Zone, and all over the USA. The commercial for those dolls promised relief from the woes of the world to his followers. They were convinced that this product would make everything better. That is why they were willing to burn with the doll rather than just letting it go.

Most cults that end do not do so by such tragic means but rather they just split apart or fizzle out on their own. Sometimes there are legal issues, but they are generally something smaller scale than murder, such as tax fraud, insurance fraud, etc. Those are still crimes and they are seriously wrong but not nearly as bad as killing someone. 

The time in a cult does affect the mental health of the individual. The ex-members of some organizations would say that they suffered from “cognitive deficiencies (e.g., memory, perception, decision-making, or information-processing deficits) and emotional impairments”. The separation from family and friends makes it harder for people to leave. The cults do, generally, let people leave though, and people do choose to leave. This is not the most common, but nor is it completely unexpected. While people who leave their cult do consider it to be rewarding, they also have problems afterwards. They can have physical issues, emotional issues, psychological issues, or some combination of them. These are regular cults, the more extreme variety could have one committing serious crimes like murdering, being an accomplice to murder, or straight up ending with them dead, whether by their own hands or not. Those people in Wiggly’s cult did not leave; they would rather die than leave their cult of comfort, so they did. 

The people that ended up in the cult in Black Friday were there because Wiggly and by extension Linda promised to fix the holes in their lives. They just blindly followed and believed her when it came to what Wiggly could and would do for them. They would not take responsibility for their own problems and try to solve them themself. The cultists wanted the fake promises of comfort Wiggly gave them rather than trying to fix them because it was easier to just rely on Wiggly. They wanted someone else to fix their problems like their failing marriage, losing their job, their messy divorce, losing custody of their kids, their dead wife, etc. This is something that probably drives real life people to join cults as well. Bad circumstances can have one turning to ill advised sources of comfort and relief. In some cases that ill advised source of relief could be cult. These are the kind of people that a real life cult would target to try to get them to join their ranks. These are people who might turn to a cult in times of trial which is exactly why a cult would try to convert them simply because they are easy targets. Even if the actions of Wiggly’s cult are extreme the member’s reasons for joining are ordinary and understandable. That gives this cult some sort of connection to a more realistic cult. The actions from this cult do align with some cults, namely The Manson Family and The People’s Church. 

The Manson Family was also a very extreme cult when it came down to it. The Manson family with the myriad of crimes they committed. Those crimes including murder, torture, hostage taking, the attempted assassination of the president and other lesser crimes like grand theft auto and forging a check from the treasury. The trial was no less disturbing with Charles Manson trying to represent himself and after a few days being found incapable of doing so. He also entered the courtroom with a cross carved into his forehead. Manson demanded to be allowed to testify and they agreed. He testified that he was a product of the criminal justice system since both his father and mother ended up in prison at some point. The court also ended up having members of the family testify and they told the truth of what Manson said and believed. They actually ended up testifying against Manson. The cult was following his orders and it was on his orders that they killed. They also believed what he was saying about Helter Skelter being a huge war of which the Family would come out on top of. Manson said that was the true meaning behind the Beatles song by the same name. The cult also had members afraid of Manson and they were scared to disobey so they did what was asked of them whether they wanted to or not. That kind of behavior from a cult is intense, extreme, and rare which is why it was in the public eye as much as it was. This is exactly the kind of cult behavior that Wiggly’s cult from Black Friday also expressed. They also had similar behavior to another cult, that cult being The People’s Temple.

The People’s Temple started out with good intentions, but ended up with a large amount of its members dead. It started as a genuine religion but changed for the darker as the leader, Jim Jones, started faking healings and doing drugs. The healings would bring in more people and more money and with that money eventually Jones started doing drugs which evidently caused him to change, personality wise. He started wearing his signature sunglasses at that point to hide the fact he would have been doing drugs. He eventually got so paranoid due to the drugs that he decided to start his own little paradise for his followers out in Guyana. He started a small village with cottages and called it Jonestown. Many of the followers flocked out there, but once they got there they were stuck. They did not have enough money to leave, Jones kept their passports in a locked box, and all of the mail coming in and out was monitored. Those combined conditions made it practically impossible for anyone to leave. Life in Jonestown was miserable; they did not have enough space or food for everyone. Eventually concerned family members were able to convince U. S. Congressman Leo Ryan to go check on Jonestown in 1978. He and a bunch of reporters visited on November 17th, 1978 and at first it was okay but Ryan invited the followers to leave with him. Jones got very upset at how many wanted to go and as a result one of his lieutenants attacked Ryan with a knife. He escaped without harm. Jones then ordered for Ryan and his companions to be killed. They were ambushed and murdered as they attempted to board planes to leave. Then Jones ordered everyone in the main pavilion where the older member and nurses injected the young with poisons and drank poisoned Kool Aid. That kind of thing is very extreme. It is uncommon and made the news. 

The extreme cults are rare and have radical ideas and views. Wiggly’s cult is extreme and so is The Manson Family and The People’s Temple. They are all alike in the committing murder area of cult behavior. They also promised to be the ones safe from the world and would be left alive when the apocalypse would come. Wiggly’s cult ended in suicide as did The People’s Church. That is an extreme reaction to the situation that was going on and there were far better options that just were not taken. Manson and Linda were alike in that they would delegate the murdering to someone else. Linda and Jones are alike in that they did actually get their hands dirty. Linda’s cult may have been fictional and had some serious supernatural elements, but it still reflected actual cults behaviors even if those behaviors were extreme and part of the one percent of cults.

[uservillanelle]

Killing Eve ― 3x04 (Review)

Last episode was... something else for me. Episode 3 will ALWAYS have a special place in my heart because of Villaneve’s kiss and all that, but this episode. It has to be my favorite this season and if they keep up like that... not only will we have a PERFECT season, but it will be impossible for me to pick a favorite episode. I’ve watched it probably close to 10 times already and I’m not going to wait any longer. We have bunch of stuff to discuss! So let’s start!! (This will be a LONG review, so I apologize in advance lol!)

The Titles

It’s so interesting that they chose this season to experiment with episodes. Back in episode 2 we had the very first additional credits sequence which I, personally, liked a lot. However, maybe they didn’t like it as much? Since they didn’t use it anymore. I wonder why they haven’t placed the credits sequence in the premiere instead? It would still be unpredictable gesture, so I’m still wondering about it.

ANYWAYS! By titles, I meant the NAME titles this episode. The past two seasons we were used to having titles that indicate the names of PLACES e.g. RUSSIA, LONDON, TUSCANY ect. They are still doing that, in different way, the letters are smaller now and they use this interesting “blinds” effect that the letters appear and move like blinds would if we opened/closed them? Really nice touch, I must say. It’s something different, something we haven’t really seen before in the show. 

Now the names. I’ve read a couple of people saying something like “why the name titles? we obviously know who the person is? so what’s the point of that?!” I found that quite funny lol! I mean, YES, we know exactly who they are but that’s not the reason why they’re using those name titles. Name titles, in this case, are to show us WHO the show is focusing on for the time being. That also means that the normal sequence of events will be disrupted since there won’t be any scenes switching between different characters. For some reason I felt like something like this happened before but then I remembered that something like this was used in another show called Dare Me! That’s why it felt so familliar and Killing Eve is exploring that type of narrative and honestly, I dig it. Yeah, it might get confusing for some people, having to bounce back and forth between the timeline and the events, but it’s perfect for those of us who has a sharp eye for details. It’s for the viewers who analyse and put pieces together. It’s exactly what Eve is doing at the end of the day with all the kills, isn’t it? So thinking about it, makes it all even more fascinating. Damn. I’m REALLY falling for the show... aren’t I?

The titles makes it SOO much easier for me to write these reviews as they basically tell which character they are focusing on right now and that’s what I did in my reviews lmao! I’ll just follow the characters in the episode so I’m sure you guys will be able to catch up with me with no problems!

Niko

So... THE MUSTACHE IS GONE. 

I didn’t see it coming. The way they released all those trailers/sneak peeks featuring Niko made it seem like he was finally getting his fresh start and like, I had a feeling we might even get an episode fully focused on him and maybe Eve or something? So, that’s how well they mix things up. My mind, yet again, has been BLOWN. 

Before we talk about the elephant in the room, I just want to say that Niko was a good person. I might not have been a huge fan of him, but I felt IT. Speaking of fans, I think it’s normal to NOT like him because he is playing the boring husband type and obviously he stands between Villaneve. But other than that, he IS a good, ordinary person. It’s a fact and Eve knows it. Niko keeps Eve grounded, safe, STABLE. He is all those things she found boring before in season 1 and didn’t appreciate enough I feel, because she was too used to them as all of us are. 

He gets to play the part of a normal, ordinary man who got scared when he found out that his wife is chasing an assassin, who soon enough possibly murdered Eve’s colleague and a dear friend. Yet, it didn’t seem to slow Eve down nor did she notice any of the red flags in front of her face that straight up screamed DANGER. I think most of us would’ve reacted to things like that the way Niko did. Yes, we would’ve been a boring man/woman who the viewers hate, because they crave for danger and psychotic obssession filled with hatred and lust and a LOT of craziness. It’s what we crave now, watching the show and WAITING for Villaneve to happen. 

This morning I’ve been watching a few of reactions of the episode and I got to explore different perspectives of people reacting to the same thing. I love that. I want to know what other people see in things, you know? And so... one of the people made a point about KE writers killing off whoever they want, probably to surprise the viewers as they probably don’t know how else to drive the story. Meaning that Kenny or Niko didn’t have to die. But that’s the whole point... one thing is to claim that they are doing whatever they want with the show, but another is to actually COME UP with ideas for a decent, I mean.. not even decent, AN AMAZING plot that people would be shocked and amazed by at the same time. You can only go this far without having to touch any of the main characters, you know? There comes a time when you have to make big, serious choices in terms of the story and this season Suzanne is GOING FOR IT. Like I mentioned in my previous post here, the first two seasons were amazing, but it only NOW feels like things are getting real. Suzanne took over and she’s getting shit done. She’s taking this responsibility and making huge important choices that will shift the main plot AND Villaneve in certain direction and so far it’s going sooo smoothly and brilliantly. 

I mean, yes, Niko deserves to start over and have a nice life but the moment Villanelle found out about Eve... Niko’s fate was decided for him whether he liked it or not. And having him simply disappear from Eve’s life AND from the show as if nothing... I’d see it as waste of character’s potential. So instead of not having Niko around but have HIM affect the story in such a profound way, I think killing him off was a great idea. This way... his character gains so much more meaning and it helps to drive the main story forward, but most importantly it will change and affect Eve in ways we have never seen before. So, I think I’ve read somewhere that Owen McDonnell (Niko) wanted his character to go out with a bang, and he truly did. Yes, it was a very brutal, shocking death but it was definitely a very strong one.

Now, the soundtracks STRIKE yet again. I’m talking about Niko’s soundtrack, Dear Diary by The Moody Blues is soo well fitting for his character while showing him trying to start over with his life. It carries this... sort of bittersweet feeling, but at the same time it’s so... freeing? And the lyrics speak his story without Niko having to say anything at all. 

“ Woke up too late. Wasn't where I should have been For goodness sake, what's happening to me?” 

Yeah, he WOKE UP a bit too late and realized that the life he had wasn’t really for him anymore.

“So many people by the score Rushing around as senselessly They don't notice there's people like me”

And we basically see him drive through the town and watch people going with their lives and not really notice him for who he is now, for what he had to go through. Probably none of them had to go through so much trauma and had their lives in danger the way Niko has.

“If they weren't so blind, then surely they'd see There's a much better way for them to be”

Perfect description for Niko the previous two seasons. Now that he’s “woken up” I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought that way. Again, this show picks the soundtracks for a reason and I’m not sure if in first two seasons the songs described and spoke instead of characters, but this season they are really going for it. 

Eve

Oh boy, where do we start?

So... from now on Eve spends her nights at Bitter Pill office. I mean, after being shot by a crazy assassin girlfriend, who, found out where Eve’s living now, it’s more than understandable for her to NOT want to stay in her apartment any longer. But staying in the office is not the best idea either. I mean, she still can go back to her apartment to clean up and all that? Guess not this day. Which happens to be her BIRTHDAY. I was convinced that Villanelle sent her the cake of a bus was only to remind her off their mindblowing kiss, because let’s remember back in 1x04 Villanelle had just murdered Bill and threw a birthday party to Konstantin. And it wasn’t his birthday. Yes, she tried to get on his good side, but I really thought this would be yet another example of Villanelle’s behavior. Turns out.. it IS Eve’s birthday... and my mind is blown yet again. I NEED to know what day is her birthday. Like, seriously?! And.. Niko hasn’t messaged her despite it being her birthday. Like.. you two have huge issues still, but hello? It’s your wife’s birthday... or maybe he forgot? But here is Villanelle not forgetting about Eve’s special day... and the fact that it’s a goddamn bus... WE GET IT, VILLANELLE, YOU’RE A HOPELESS ROMANTIC.

Before the cake arrives, we have a scene of Eve cleaning up in the bathroom, checking out her bruise and then the moment with Bear. Everything made total sense. Eve brushing her teeth, smelling herself, probably aware that she’s in desperate need for a shower, then again smelling her hair until Bear points it out for her. Yes, SMELL is the reoccuring theme in Killing Eve. So that was alright. Everything was going smoothly UNTIL Bear spotted the UNDERWEAR. Now, I did some digging to find a confirmation that it indeed was underwear and not some random piece of clothing or whatever... and in one of the recaps online they did say it was underwear. My question is... WHY? Why did they include THAT specific bit? The fact that Eve needs a shower was established more than ONCE, out loud and through a solo scene in the bathroom. So it got me thinking... and by thinking, I almost immediately got an idea... If it’s still not clear for you, let me remind you just how the last episode ended... with Eve sitting on her bed listening to Villanelle’s recording with her eyes closed. And now... the underwear being spotted and throwin in a bin and all the smell? Okay, I’m so going to say it now. Eve masterbated while listening to Villanelle’s voice. Okay. To me it happened and the underwear bit is a confirmation of that. And if that’s not the case... please let me know because I NEED to know what the hell did that bit mean. But until someone does that... I already know what happened and I’m happy with it. 

Now the cake moment. So not only does Villanelle know where Eve’s apartment is but where she works?! This gurl is putting some EFFORT for her girlfriend and on top of that buying a very expensive cake which Eve threw off the rooftop moments later. The reason for that is.. Villanelle. Duh. I was completely mesmerized by that scene. Again, THE SOUNDTRACK. I love, love, LOVE this score that was playing during the scene. It’s probably another new addition to Unloved album, but if anyone has seen it somewhere or has a link, please let me know!! The lyrics do all the work in this scene too...

“Set me free”

It all started in season 1 episode 7 when Villanelle told Agniya that she’s free to go and do whatever she wanted to. She replied with “I don’t want to be free” so she was killed off. Now, Being FREE has been mentioned SEVERAL times this episode. Including the lyrics in the soundtrack AND Sandra Oh talking about Eve trying to FREE herself from the Twelve and basically from the life she has been living before. Such a huge theme for Killing Eve. What does it mean for Eve to be free? Is it the same thing as it is for Villanelle? Again, in the scene with the accountant’s wife, Bertha, Villanelle tells her “You’re free now. You can be whoever you want.” and the other replies only with “But.. I don’t want to be free”. What an iconic parallel. So, for Villanelle, being free is being alone, as it seems. And in this case Eve is desperately clinging to Niko because she, like Bertha, doesn’t want to be free. Or more like.. she THINKS she doesn’t want to be free. So all those small gifts coming from Villanelle including the cake tells Eve that she CAN be set free. And.. as we can see from how the episode eneded.. Eve is now finally FREE. 

She opens the box soo carefully, not knowing what to expect from Villanelle and then sees the cake. Immediatelly gets flashbacks to their moment in the bus and how they fought and most importantly, KISSED. And next thing you know... we see how a gush of air blows in her face with the sound of someones BREATH. The sound of it is soo familiar. We know exactly who it is. Villanelle, breathing in Eve’s face. And for a second she closes her eyes. Gives into it... into Villanelle but then something shifts, the struggle within her continues to take over and she grabs the cake once she gets emotional and throws it off the roof. Only to instantly regret it afterwards. The complexity of this scene and of Eve’s character is just.. on one hand she hates feeling like this now that she knows she has feelings for Villanelle, but on the other hand she likes it... she admits it and a part of her just wants to give in. We saw the same thing, only reversed feelings, in previous episode. She finally gave in and kissed Villanelle only to headbutt her right after, once she realized what she did and how WRONG it’s supposed to be. Here, she gives in for a moment.. closes her eyes and then realizes how fucked up that is and what a terrible person and WIFE she must be so she throws it off and THEN the feelings for Villanelle comes back... I just have to say.. I’M LOVING THIS! I hope that at the end of the season Eve WILL fully accept her feelings for Villanelle and become new version of herself, new version of Eve who is FREE. And I can’t wait to see what kind of person will independent Eve be like.

Next. Eve and Jamie. I’ve seen pictures of them in Jamie’s house and I did NOT like that atll. I still have a feeling something might happen between them and god, do I hope I’m wrong. But that scene as they were just chilling in his living room was so great for Eve because she needed someone to have this frank conversation with. She has been focusing on herself lately so much that she didn’t think other people did mistakes or terrible things like she did until Jamie proved her wrong. FINALLY we are getting some information about the dude. Even if it’s not pretty. At least it’s the truth. Eve really needed to hear it and especailly the ‘choices’ part. Someone had to remind her that SHE is in control of her own life and it all depends on the choices she makes at the end of the day. 

Speaking of choices, as soon as Eve gets a reply from Niko, she gets hopeful and goes even as far as to meet him. I appreciate that she is putting so much effort in trying to fix things between her and Niko, but at the same time I feel she’s only doing this for herself... meaning, that she doesn’t want to lose the person that keeps her somewhat SANE still and used to ground her. And in the middle of this, she gets so distracted with this thing with Niko, she doesn’t even realize that it’s not actually Niko who’s messaging her and really, I don’t blame her for not realizing it, I, myself, the first time watching didn’t catch the sight of Dasha in the beginning and yeah I was also played like Eve. But this is where I noticed a nice similarity/parallel between Eve and Villanelle. Eve’s all distracted with Niko and desperate to patch things up, she’s not realizing how someone else might be manipulating/using her. DASHA is doing exactly that. And she does the same thing with Villanelle at the same time. Now, Villanelle is all about family this season, whenever she hears about family, suddenly she’s distracted and the same is with power. I mean.. is she really that naive to trust Dasha again? It looks like Villanelle believes everything Dasha tells her, or almost everything. And so Dasha gets to manipulate her into doing what she wants her to do.

Gotta mention the teddy bear Eve found in one of Jamie’s rooms she’s staying at. Literally the previous night Villanelle sent her a teddy bear with recording and even here... at some strangers house she finds a teddy bear. Seems like she can’t get away from Villanelle no matter how much she tries. “What do you want from me?” She’s asking Villanelle because she clearly isn’t leaving her alone. 

The last scene with Eve witnessing Niko’s death... all I can say is GIVE SANDRA OH A GODDAMN EMMY ALREADY!!! Her seeing Niko suddenly being stabbed with a fucking pitchfork in the neck forced her to freeze and stare in terror and that chuckle of disbelief that followed afterwards.. as if saying “am I dreaming? Is this really happening? It can’t be” because Kenny JUST died... what are the fucking odds someone just stabbed Niko in front of her eyes?! I would lose my SHIT... and Sandra expressed it so beautifully... her slowly approaching the scene but then has that massive lump in her throat and she can’t breath and next second she’s losing her balance and falling to her knees in complete defeat and just stares at his body... powerless to do anything about it. This scene and the scene where Konstantin tells Villanelle that Eve is alive.. these two scenes HAVE to bring Jodie and Sandra EMMY’S because thats ART of acting and pure talent and I can’t imagine them NOT getting the awards they deserve. And they deserve EVERY single one. 

So there is literally NO ONE left for Eve. Bill’s long gone, Kenny as well, now Niko. I think that will be the last straw for Eve. I really don’t know how she will be able to come back from this or.. keep going. She’ll have to do it to avenge the people she loved. But she really has no one except Villanelle now. And I think.. yeah, Villanelle will also only have Eve when she’s done with her “family” and realizes that Konstantin/Dasha were playing her and Eve all over again. 

Konstantin

You’re in some DEEP shit, mister.

Question time. Why Konstantin went to visit Irina? What was the point of doing so? Was it only so he could ask about the German car that his wife’s boyfriend owns? Or was it purely on Irina’s part? Because the conversation they had proved once more that Konstantin is NOT fooling anyone. Everybody knows he’s working for himself. Eve pointed it out during Kenny’s funeral, then Villanelle with “You’re full of shit” and now Irina, paralleling Villanelle by saying “you’re full of shit” and walking off. This girl has grown so much and she’s soo mature already and smart and a fucking badass! I missed her. And by putting her father in his place she mentioned ending up “dead” .. you know what that sounds like to me? FORESHADOWING. It is exactly that, isn’t it? For Irina to straight up tell him his future if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing. And I guess he won’t stop.. or will he?

So... was it him who stole those 6 millions? I thought it was Sergei... but it kind of seemed like someone set him up. Was it Konstantin? Because when he went to visit Bertha and she mentioned about how her husband worked out who took the money... and Konstantin’s face during that scene... he is literally shitting his pants lol! That makes me believe he had something to do with this and he defintitely has... but what exactly did he do? And now that Bertha knows about the email and some information about it, Konstantin doesnt hesitate to reach out to Villanelle to ask her to get rid of the accountants wife only to save his own arse. Once again.

Next up: Konstantin’s relationship with his DAUGHTERS. Am I the only one who sees that Konstantin is treating Irina AND Villanelle the same way?! They basically have the same dynamic. Both Irina and Villanelle curse at Konstantin, have their small tantrums with him and can put him in his place. And both of them have already done so. And let’s not forget... the producers ALSO call Villanelle and Irina his DAUGHTERS so it’s confirmed. Everybody knows it. And recently I saw a BTS video of this latest episode about Konstantin and hearing Jodie then say “then there’s Konstantin’s REAL daughter” and then there’s dramatic close up on Villanelle LMAO! The jealousy and the way they edited it... damn. Okay, let’s just agree Villanelle is Konstantin’s daughter. 

Now, did he visit Geraldine?! Because when we saw Carolyn drive back home, she saw Konstantin walking from the same direction her place is located. And her daughter was home at the time... so did Geraldine lie about Konstantin not visiting her and being there or she didn’t even know when Konstantin sneaked inside? I’m getting really suspicious now.

Villanelle

GO AWAY, HICCUPS

Villanelle? Listening to MUSIC? What did I miss? Back in season 1 she was interested only in national anthems. Now she’s listening to other kind of music?! Music to me is EVERYTHING, it’s a massive escape, it’s something that helps me get through every day and it evokes FEELINGS. It is associated with feelings so much and what does it say about Villanelle? That she has FEELINGS. The layers are slowly being peeled off her as Oksana is coming out and I can’t wait for the next episode. I’ll write another small analysis/discussion about Oksana and Villanell soon as I feel this deserves a separate discussion.Going back to the topic of music, at the end of the episode Villanelle arrives HOME and is wearing headphones indicating that she probably was listening to music on her way there. I’m sensing BIG changes. Villanelle is truly progressing and developing and we are getting to witness it!

Okay. the part we all have been waiting for. THE HICCUPS. The very first time they start is EXACTLY after Konstantin mentions “FAMILY” Villanelle is really invested in her family now and was in previous episode so now knowing that Konstantin found them probaly quickened her breathing and she got nervous/excited. The hiccups are involuntary contractions. You can’t control it. And at the same time they tend to be constant. We have never seen Villanelle have them before. And they only start after she hears “FAMILY”. This reminds me of a scene in 1x02 where Konstantin tells Villanelle Eve’s name for the first time and then suddenly the champagne’s bottle pops. It’s a sign. And the hiccups seemed to stop for a short period of time, right until Bertha approaches Villanelle and tells her that she wants to be a FAMILY and hugs her. Seconds later hiccups come back. The concept of FAMILY must be very foreign to Villanelle. It’s something she never really had and so now learning about her family, something so unknown to her, is affecting her body. And the way I see it... the hiccups are like a constant reminder to her, that yes, she never had family and that she’s finally interested to find that family again. So the hiccups symbolize the LOSS of something she never had. In this case, her family. Because we see her get off the train at the end of the episode and she reaches out to touch her neck. This scene for me has so many different meanings it’s sooo fascinating? And one of the meanings, probably the main one, is that she reaches out to her neck once she realizes that hiccups are finally gone. And that is exactly when she’s back at HOME. Back where her FAMILY is. So it’s like... she’s no longer alone, the void from before has been filled because she found her family now. 

Now, the very first time I watched the episode and that last scene.. I was like “shit, did she, by any chance, feel Niko’s pain?!” I mean that’s IMPOSSIBLE. Because Niko has just been stabbed in the neck with pitchfork and yeah it just occured to me. But then... I realized that maybe it’s not Niko’s pain she’s feeling but EVE’S. We see Eve freeze and struggle to breathe and have lump in her throat and that’s when Villanelle stops having her hiccups and she has this MOMENT. Almost the same moment as Eve had when she felt Villanelle’s BREATH on her face.The connection thesr two have... I mean.. VILLANEVE IS ENDGAME, OKAY?!

We got a tiny problem now. Dasha FRAMED Villanelle. It got me thinking.. this is basically a betrayal. And could that mean.. that maybe Dasha did something similar to Villanelle in the past? Like, framed her with some kill? Could it be that huge thing that happened between the two of them? I hope we will find out at some point this season. And I mean.. the way Dasha killed Niko is NOT Villanelle’s style at all. Villanelle had PLENTY of chances to kill Niko herself and she didn’t because she knew well enough that if she hurts Niko, Eve will never forgive her for that. So she didn’t. But Eve doesn’t know that. She wasn’t a part of that conversation Villanelle had with Niko and Gemma. What Eve does know... is Villanelle’s handwriting. The iconic “Sorry Baby” should be a perfect example. Let’s not forget the postcard Villanelle sent to Eve in Amsterdam. Yes, Carolyn took it, but maybe... she’ll give it to Eve once she knows what happened? I mean there is NO way Eve will believe that crappy note is Villanelle’s. Not even her handwriting. Plus... if Villanelle wanted to kill Niko, I don’t think she would’ve done it in front of her eyes. And even if she did... I think she would have wanted Eve to SEE her do it. At the end of the day, Villanelle wants Eve to know about each and every kill she does. And Niko wouldn’t be an exception. She’d leave a PERSONAL note/message for Eve. What did Dasha leave?! “Still Got It”? Really bitch? Is that a note to Eve or Villanelle? If it’s to Villanelle... you just prepared your grave, Dasha. I can only imagine Eve finding out it was Dasha and ending up killing her to avenge her husband. And Villanelle being there to gladly assist her with everything she needs.

Carolyn

Never thought frog sounds could be this relaxing

She’s still dealing with Kenny’s death. In her own way. I mean, I understand Geraldine completely when she confronts her mom and basically tells her that she wants them to talk about Kenny’s death. If I was in her place, I would want to talk about it too. But Carolyn doesn’t seem to operate in that way. Plus, she dropped the line “there are things you don’t tell me, that are for quite different reasons” and she means it about Konstantin. She saw him leave her house. Geraldine said nothing about it. So... is she working with Konstantin now? What’s happening?

The dynamic between Carolyn and Konstantin though. Both of them are double agents and ready to betray one another at any given time despite knowing each other for YEARS. One minute they are working together as they were in season 2, then now Konstantin is doing his own thing, and even maaybe going behind Carolyn’s back with her own DAUGHTER?! I don’t believe this. I don’t think Geraldine knows about him visiting the house.. or does she?!

She comes back home, lies down and turns on frog sounds to relax herself while grabbing a pillow to press against her own face. Makes me wonder if she did it because she kept on repeating that she MISSES Kenny’s smell, but why would that pillow smell like him? So maybe she only wants to run away from the world and shut off by grabbing the pillow? Though for a moment or two I really got worried she might be suffocating herself lol! Careful with grief, Carolyn!

Dasha

The old hag of the hour. 

You fucked up, Dasha. BIG TIME. But before we get into the killing, I have to mention the scene where she meets the Lady of the Twelve. That’s what I will call her from now on. So, she’s either a keeper, or someone higher. I don’t think she is one of the Twelve, but she might be very close to them. Probably an assistant or something? Because she obviously has the power to HANDLE the HANDLERS. In this case, Dasha. I mean, I only saw her once and I already have the hotts for this lady, but she’s one of the bad guys and... WHEN DID THAT STOP ME BEFORE? I’m literally in love with a psychotic assassin LOL! 

Can I just point out the fact that the Twelve KNOW about VILLANEVE??? Apparently they have spies EVERYWHERE, like Eve said back in season 1 episode 3. “They are completely invisible and they could be literally everywhere”. That explains someone spotted Villanelle going around London, buying expensive ass perfume only to visit and fight with her girlfriend. And the Twelve know it. That’s a HUGE thing. They are treating it like a huge thing and they do not like Villanelle chasing Eve. That makes me think... so why would Konstantin let Villanelle know that Eve is alive if he is also working for the Twelve?! The same is with Carolyn and Eve!! Like?? Who is working for who now and who is betraying who?! I need explanations and QUICK!

Now Dasha proposing she can kill Eve... is this yet another foreshadowing moment? I know, the lady told her NOT to do it, but I have a feeling Dasha will try to hurt Eve at some point... and I hope Eve will be ready for it. As much as I would LOVE for Villanelle to save Eve.. I want Eve to handle Dasha by herself and take her revenge. I want dark!Eve at the end of this season. Am I asking for too much?! She already killed once. Might as well do it twice lol!

 So Dasha is supposed to “drive a wedge” between Eve and Villanelle. And when I realized Dasha stole Niko’s phone and was texting Eve to come to him... my first thought was “Okay, so is Dasha really trying to bring Eve and Niko back together?!?” But that is complete NONSENSE! I mean, I don’t think even a professional therapist will be able to bring them back together OR let alone recommend them to try to fix their marriage so how in the HELL would Dasha do it? It didn’t make sense.. but how else can she really fuck up Villaneve? Apprently by getting rid of Niko!! Dasha, sweetie... you ONLY BROUGHT THEM CLOSER BY ELIMINATING THE ONLY OBVIOUS OBSTACLE IN THEIR WAY!!! The hell was she thinking?! Does she really believe Eve will fall for her bullshit? Or does she expect Eve to find out it was HER and that’s when Dasha gets to kill Eve?! I don’t think she’s that smart. Either way... Dasha is done. I can totally see her dying this season, or possibly somehow magically escaping but I doubt it. Eve and Villanelle will deal with this bitch and it will be SOO delicious to watch them get their revenge.  

Overall Thoughts

JESUS. This was a LONG ass review. I honestly apologize, but if you reached this point, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! You’re all amazing for spending your time reading my nonsense lol! It’s just that this episode had soo many great things worth discussing and so many symbols and meanings that make the show so complex and fascinating and god... I could talk about it for hours. I probably spend around 3-4 hours writing this so yeah, the proof that I have a serious fixation lol! 

But like I said.. this episode is my favorite this season. Perfect. I can only imagine how great the next 4 episodes will be. Also, can’t believe we are already halfway into the season. It’s crazy how quick the time flies!

And as always, if you have any thoughts/reactions/predictions you’d like to share don’t be afraid to message me or drop in my askbox!! I’m always up for discussing things like that!! 

[bettydice]

I didn’t expect you to be lonely (too)

Xicheng, Modern AU, JC&WWX reconciliation, E-Rated 

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 7

The night after their date, which was both a disaster and the best date he’s ever had, Jiang Cheng can't sleep. He keeps thinking about Lan Xichen’s shaking hands, the kiss, the kisses that followed, about not casually, about Wei Wuxian dating Lan Xichen's brother. About how if they're not casual, then he'll have to get over himself and at least be able to be in a room together with Wei Wuxian, or Lan Xichen will just be another person suffering from this stupid situation.

If they're… If they are something now. If it lasts. He wants it to last. Which is another thing keeping him awake. How much he already feels for Lan Xichen. How his brain has no problem providing him with… Domestic scenarios. That eventually turn into not so domestic ones. But he’s too tired to do anything about his arousal, so his brain instead comes up with scenarios where Lan Xichen tells him he regrets everything about yesterday and does not want to see him again. Those are… not fun.

Eventually, morning comes. Jiang Cheng stays in bed. He has nothing to do today, he’s tired, and there’s nothing waiting for him in his kitchen except for dirty dishes. So, he grabs his phone and watches some cute bunny compilations on YouTube. After the fifth video he does feel better, so when Wei Wuxian’s daily selfie arrives (Wei Wuxian holds up a very large mug of coffee, winking at the camera), Jiang Cheng doesn’t even get angry or sad. He actually has to smile.

He immediately gets up, gets dressed, doesn’t open the door to his kitchen, and takes the bus to his sister’s house.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t even question why he’s there, simply sets the breakfast table for one more person. Jin Zixuan also doesn’t question him, simply makes him some really strong coffee. After breakfast, he's handed Jin Ling, so his sister and her husband can do some chores, which suits him just fine, because Jin Ling is perfect and amazing and the only one who understands him. He's also a little tired and grumpy today - relatable - so Jiang Cheng ends up on the couch with Jin Ling napping on his chest. Which, alas, means he can't move because he'd wake his precious nephew. With Jin Ling’s reassuring weight keeping him glued to the couch, Jiang Cheng has no choice but to close his eyes.

"A-Cheng. Are you asleep?"

"Mhm."

"A-Cheng, wake up."

When he pries open his eyes, he sees his sister, sitting in the armchair next to the sofa, smiling at them.

"I can't move," Jiang Cheng explains.

"I understand." Of course she does, A-Jie always understands.

He does try to assume a sort of sitting position, so he can better look at her, making sure A-Ling still stays in prime napping position. She has That Look on her face, meaning she wants to Talk About Things, but won't necessarily push him.

"It's really nice that you stopped by today," Jiang Yanli says, and without calling in advance to make sure Wei Wuxian definitely won't be there goes unsaid but not unheard.

"I missed my nephew." Jiang Cheng looks down at A-Ling and smiles. He can’t see much more than one of his chubby cheeks smushed against Jiang Cheng’s chest, and it’s adorable.

"And he missed you." Jiang Yanli smiles and leans forward, so she can gently stroke A-Ling's head. "Did you have a good week?"

Jiang Cheng has to think about Lan Xichen and his kisses and his smile widens, grows impossibly soft, before he quickly tries to wipe it off his face. His sister notices it, of course, as evidenced by her slightly raised eyebrows." Yeah… It was good. "

Jiang Cheng hesitates, because he's not actually sure whether he wants to tell his sister about… All of that. For one, she's paying for his sessions. And it still doesn't feel quite real. Ten days ago he felt horrible and lonely and now Lan Xichen kissed him and is attracted to him and said "slowly, but not casually", which… Does this mean they're boyfriends? That's too quickly, isn't it? But they're not dating, because they both hate dating, but they’re not casual, so the logical conclusion…

"A-Cheng?" Apparently not the first time she's called his name.

"I think I have a boyfriend," is not what he wanted to say and yet his stupid mouth fucking betrays him. Jiang Yanli looks stunned for a few seconds - understandable - then a warm smile spreads over her face. Jiang Cheng lifts his hand, before she can say anything. "I'm… I'm not sure I want to talk about it. It's obviously a recent and surprising turn of events and who knows if anything will actually come of it, you know how I am with relationships, they end before they can start - "

"It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything, if you’re not ready yet."

Jiang Cheng gives her a grateful smile. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but…

"How are your massage sessions going? How many have you had yet?" A seemingly random change of topic, but considering…

"Oh… Those are… Good. Relaxing." Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at his sister who looks so unassuming and innocent… Fuck. She knows. Jiang Cheng's face immediately grows hot. He doesn't know why he ever even tries to keep a secret in this family. "A-jie, how did you.. It's not… He is…"

"As I said, you don't have to talk about it. But you can. You can always talk to me. About anything."

She doesn’t mean it as a reprimand, but Jiang Cheng immediately feels guilty. He has been … many things, these past few months. Has sometimes been unfairly angry at his sister, because she still meets with Wei Wuxian, because Wei Wuxian didn't abandon her, too. Has visited less, and not only because he didn't want to risk bumping into his brother. Hadn’t wanted his sister to know how poorly he was doing, to realise how shitty everything in his life was going.

"I know. Sorry, A-jie."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Just… For being an idiot."

His sister’s smile stays warm, but her tone is a little stern when she says: "You're not an idiot." She leans forward and gently strokes his forehead. Just like she usually does with A-Ling. Just like...

The door opens and someone enters the room. Jiang Cheng turns towards the wall, mortified. Since his sister isn’t home, it must be Wei Wuxian.

“Fuck off.”

Wei Wuxian does not, of course, fuck off. Instead, he comes over and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“I really liked your poem. Which is saying a lot, because I barely made it through without screaming. Horrifying subject matter.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t answer, just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to get his tears to stop falling with the power of his mind.

“You described that dog in such vivid detail, I thought I’d have a heart attack!”

Is Wei Wuxian here to make fun of him? He knows it was just a stupid little poem that can’t compare to getting first place at that stupid science fair. Isn’t it enough to hear that from his mother - does his brother have to rub it in, too? He knows he’s pathetic, crying about this like a little boy.

“Huaisang was raving about it all afternoon. He really liked the… meter you used. Whatever that means.”

Jiang Cheng wipes his face and turns around. Just enough so he can see his brother out of the corner of his eye. “He said that?”

“Yeah! He also said ‘I didn’t realise Jiang Cheng was able to create such beautiful metaphors, I think I’m going to put him on my list of people I’d allow to give me a blowjob.”

Jiang Cheng groans and fully turns around, so he can throw a pillow at his brother. “He didn’t say that!”

Wei Wuxian easily catches the pillow and grins. “It was implied! Anyway… I thought, maybe you want to write some lyrics for Yiling Laozu? I feel like our metaphor game is really lacking at the moment.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “If you’re just taking the piss…”

“I mean it!” Wei Wuxians reaches out like he wants to wipe Jiang Cheng’s tears, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he starts stroking Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

Jiang Cheng feels… like his tears are going to return. He frowns even harder. “I’m not a fucking baby. Stop that.”

“Aw, but that’s where you’re wrong! You’re my baby brother! Sweet little ChengCheng!”

“Fuck off!”

Jiang Cheng tries to shove Wei Wuxian from the bed with his foot, but Wei Wuxian tackles him instead, wraps his arms around him and squeezes him. Coos into his ear in a disgustingly sweet voice: “My talented Didi! My precious A-Di! Just a tiny, tiny baby with the heart of a poet!”

Jiang Cheng complains loudly and tries to free himself. But he can’t help but laugh.

"Wei Wuxian sends me a selfie every morning." Once again, his stupid mouth does things without his permission.

"Does he now." Jiang Yanli doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the fact Jiang Cheng’s word vomit jumps from possible boyfriend to Wei Wuxian’s selfies.

"He wouldn't do that if he didn't want anything to do with me… Right?"

"He wouldn't. He misses you.” Jiang Yanli, still stroking his head, hesitates, before she says: “Maybe you can consider it… an opening?"

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes for a while, as though that would help him sort the emotional chaos in his mind.

"Wei Wuxian is dating Lan Xichen's brother."

"Yes."

"Are they… Is it serious?"

Just like Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian never had relationships. But not because he was inherently unlovable or scared everyone off with his frown, or anything like that. He used to get crushes all the time that fizzled out just as quickly, said it would be too selfish to be tied down, everyone should be able to enjoy the wonders of being with Wei Wuxian. Though his brother also got way less action than he let people assume.

"Oh, they're… definitely serious." Jiang Yanli laughs.Jiang Cheng opens his eyes again. He wants to ask more, as though now he's fed the monster in his chest scraps of Wei Wuxian’s life, it has realised it’s been starving and craves more and more.

In comparison, it actually seems safer to talk about Lan Xichen. "Lan Xichen might be my boyfriend. Possibly. Hopefully?"

Jiang Yanli, once again, doesn’t comment on the topic change. She does pull back her hand and sits upright, a curious look on her face. "Might?"

"So, we went on a date and we concluded we both dislike dating but like each other and… And he said we should do this ‘slowly, but not casually’. And we… Well, the date ended very… It was nice. So. What do you think?"

He resolutely stares at a spot just above Jiang Yanli's shoulder, refusing to acknowledge his burning face. He's just hot because he's trapped under his nephew who is in the 93rd percentile of weight for toddlers his age. Jiang Cheng’s not sure what it means, but he chooses to believe that A-Ling is stronger and better than 92% of toddlers. And louder than 99%. He’s very proud of his nephew.

"It does sound as though you're both interested in pursuing a relationship with each other."

"So you don't think it's too early?"

"Too early for what?"

"Just… Thinking about him like that."

"You did already like him when you were a teenager."

"What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng does look at her then, mouth open in shock. ”How did you… Nie Huaisang told you, didn't he?"

"He didn't have to." Jiang Yanli tries to hide her smile behind her hand, but Jiang Cheng knows it's there.

Jiang Cheng is just… going to move past this. "But I didn't know him back then. I've not even known him for two weeks and already..."

I'm in love with him. It's not like it's not like him. Jiang Cheng doesn't fall for people often, but when he does, he falls hard. It's just that until now, none of them (none of the two people he’s liked like this before) had ever liked him back.

"Sometimes, two people just fit well together."

Jiang Cheng immediately wants to say "Nobody would fit well with me, I only have sharp edges" but his sister would disagree immediately. And… He can't deny it does feel like they… They just fit, somehow. Even if Jiang Cheng often feels like he doesn't even fit his own skin, like his life doesn't fit him. Spending time with Lan Xichen had been easy from the beginning, the only complications being the issues Jiang Cheng brings into every interaction with another human. And bunny pee.

Jiang Cheng can't help but laugh at the memory.

"Whatever is happening between you two... I'm happy for you. You deserve to be happy, A-Cheng, no matter what you think." Jiang Yanli puts her hand on his shoulder, so he can’t help looking at her. Jiang Cheng does, even though his eyes are burning. His sister looks… intense. The way she looks when something is truly, deeply important to her. "You also deserve to find out that A-Xian doesn't hate you. That he loves and misses you. That he's just as scared he's lost you forever. One of you just has to be brave so you can both realize you still love each other."

Jiang Cheng is saved from having to give a response that's not just crying hysterically, by a very… specific sound coming from his nephew, followed by a very specific smell. Followed by A-Ling waking up and crying, loudly.

"Do you want to take care of this?" his sister asks, resigned to the fact he definitely won’t want to do that. Luckily, there's a solution.

"Jin Zixuan! Hey, come here! Your son is crying for you!" Jiang Cheng yells, sitting upright and carefully holds A-Ling away from his body.

Jin Zixuan does immediately come rushing into the living room, only to frown as soon as the smell hits him.

"Would you mind, A-Xuan…?" his sister asks with the sweetest smile and, of course, Jin Zixuan grabs A-Ling without any complaints, only sends a dark look in Jiang Cheng's direction, who smirks at him.

Jiang Cheng spends the entire day at their house. He helps his sister cook, takes A-Ling to the playground, takes another nap with A-Ling during the afternoon. When hehe falls into his bed at night, his mind feels much quieter and he can sleep peacefully.

Jiang Cheng’s next appointment isn’t until Tuesday, but they exchange a lot of messages in the meantime. Lan Xichen sends him pictures of the bunnies, of his plants, and of his meals. Jiang Cheng, who has neither pets nor meals worthy of taking pictures, suddenly finds himself going on a lot of walks, so he can send Lan Xichen pictures of trees and artsy shots of leaves in puddles. Lan Xichen told him to keep the scarf, so he wears it every time he leaves the house. It keeps him warm.

Now, standing in front of Lan Xichen’s door, Jiang Cheng suddenly feels nervous. They agreed to not mix business with pleasure, so to say. It will be just a very normal session. But Lan Xichen already invited him to stay for dinner after and Jiang Cheng enthusiastically agreed.

It's not a date, because they don't date, but… Will they kiss? He wouldn't mind more kisses…

Lan Xichen greets him with his usual smile and they stare awkwardly at each other for only about ten seconds before Lan Xichen asks him to come inside. He smiles when Jiang Cheng takes off the scarf.

They do manage to keep the session professional, except for one little moment. When Lan Xichen wraps Jiang Cheng in a towel and tucks in the edges, he also tucks a stray hair behind Jang Cheng’s ear. They share a soft look and a smile, then Lan Xichen clears his throat and leaves the room after turning on the music.

Later, they prepare dinner together, and his nervousness earlier turns out to be unfounded. It’s easy for them to just switch into… Jiang Cheng calls it ‘Boyfriend Mode’ in his head, though he’d never say it out loud. Lan Xichen is a very tactile person and Jiang Cheng finds he’s a person who… craves touch. Sometimes their hands will brush against each other, or Jiang Cheng will lean against Lan Xichen, or Lan Xichen will put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s waist or the small of his back. It just seems to come naturally for them and… He never knew or expected it could be this easy.

They kiss. It is simple, like their other touches. Lan Xichen is stirring the pot, while Jiang Cheng tells him about a cute dog he saw during one of his walks. Their eyes meet, Lan Xichen smiles, Jiang Cheng returns the smile. Lan Xichen leans towards him. They kiss. Short, but very tender. Lan Xichen smiles again, his whole face lights up and they kiss again, a little longer. It feels… like a habit. As though they’ve been doing this for a long time, as though they will be doing this for a long time. Which doesn’t mean it’s not also exciting. It makes him feel hot, but in a way that’s soothing… Like drinking hot cocoa after walking through the snow.

During dinner, Lan Xichen asks him about his weekend and Jiang Cheng tells him about the time he spent with A-Ling, which reminds him of the conversation he had with his sister. Jiang Cheng’s first instinct is to ignore that reminder… but Lan Xichen said honesty is very important to him. Jiang Cheng should be upfront. They need to talk about their families and how they want to tell them sooner or later anyway, if this is... And considering their brothers’ relationship… He doesn't want to be responsible for Lan Xichen getting in situations where he might have to lie to his brother or conceal something from him.

So Jiang Cheng spends the rest of the meal trying to mentally prepare himself for yet another conversation about their relationship, possibly about feelings, too. He’s had so many of those in the past few weeks. Maybe all the conversations he’s avoided over the past year can’t be pushed back anymore, and are now trying to break through all at once. Maybe it’s him being selfish… he knows he needs to sort out his life if he wants to be with Lan Xichen. Or maybe… when he cried in front of Lan Xichen and felt safe and understood instead of humiliated… maybe that helped him to stop running away from conversations that scared him.

"Lan-laoshi…There's something I wanted to talk about with you."

"Ah, maybe drop the laoshi when we're... like this?" Lan Xichen chuckles lightly, as he closes the dishwasher. Then he sits back down at the kitchen table and smiles warmly at Jiang Cheng. “What did you want to talk about?”

"Right, I can do that… anyway, I should tell you… I told my sister. About you. Us. This." Jiang Cheng takes a sip from his water, so he stops adding unnecessary words. "I hope that's okay? We didn't really discuss whether… and things are a little complicated right now anyway, with our families… "

Lan Xichen's eyes widen a little. He looks surprised, but not concerned. "Oh, of course. I don’t mind at all."

"Have you… have you told your brother yet?"

"Ah… Wangji knows that there is someone, but… “ Lan Xichen cocks his head, then says softly: “I understand your relationship with Wei Wuxian is somewhat tense at the moment, so… Would you want to tell your brother yourself?"

Jiang Cheng can't help the bitter laugh that escapes him. "I'm not talking to my brother at all these days."

"Oh, I didn't realise… That must be difficult, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's my fault."

Right. Lan Xichen doesn't know. Once he knows, he'll probably be disappointed in him. Maybe get second thoughts after all. He really shouldn't have told his sister, it's too early, too fragile, Nie Huaisang knows too… Soon, they'll both know when Jiang Cheng gets rightfully dumped and…

Lan Xichen rests his hand warmly on top of Jiang Cheng's. His eyes and his smile are just as warm. The gesture is both a reassurance and an invitation. Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to talk about it, doesn’t have to say anything, but he could.

And he really can. He could… tell Lan Xichen anything. Show him the worst parts of himself and… Even if it changes his opinion of Jiang Cheng, he wouldn’t make him feel worse than he already does.

It's not really a conversation that can be avoided, is it? So he should just go ahead and get it over with.

“I do want to tell you… it’s just…” Jiang Cheng sighs and drags a hand over his face. “I’m not sure I can do… I’ve never… So I don’t know how I would… I might be a mess.”

Lan Xichen simply smiles, nods, and says: “Alright.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jiang Cheng is sitting on the couch, a pot of tea is on the table in front of him, and the bunnies are exploring the living room. Lan Xichen places a box of tissues on the couch table, before sitting down next to him. Jiang Cheng can’t help but laugh at that.

He’s never actually tried to put into words what happened, because Jiang Yanli knows what happened. He assumes Wei Wuxian told her, anyway, and the rest she must’ve guessed correctly because she knows them so well… And he’s been ignoring anyone else who could ask about it. So now he has to find words to give to Lan Xichen, has to tell him about how horrible Jiang Chang has been, can be, when he wants to show him anything but.

Jiang Cheng is too scared to look at him while he talks. Scared to see the very moment Lan Xichen switches from sympathy to judgment. He doesn’t want to see Lan Xichen’s eyes when they start seeing him the same way Jiang Cheng sees himself.

He tries to stick to the facts: After Jiang Yanli moved in with Jin Zixuan, they sold their family home.Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were going to get a flat closer to uni together. They found one; Jiang Cheng paid for the deposit. A week after the move, the day before their moving in party, Wei Wuxian told him he was moving in with the Wens instead to help take care of A-Yuan, since Wen Ning’s hospital stay didn’t seem to be a short one. Jiang Cheng got angry. They had a fight (Jiang Cheng barely remembers what they said) that ended with Jiang Cheng telling Wei Wuxian he’s free to leave. Specifically told him to ‘go the fuck away and stay away’. And Wei Wuxian listened. In the past year, they’ve seen each other two times: Jiang Yanli’s birthday and Jin Ling’s birthday.

Saying it out loud, hearing it out loud…

“So, in conclusion: I’m a fucking asshole. Now you know.” Jiang Cheng laughs, a bitter sound, and his fingernails dig into his palms. He still can’t look at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen… doesn’t say anything. But he takes his hand.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. Will this be followed by ‘I didn’t realise this is the kind of person you are’ or ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this with you’? He knows Lan Xichen won’t actually say either of this, but…

“Wanyin… would you look at me?”

Jiang Cheng really doesn’t want to, but… Lan Xichen said his name so carefully, so gently… He opens his eyes and turns his head.

Lan Xichen’s eyes are still kind.

Jiang Cheng’s heart draws tight, so tight it hurts. And then… it softens.

Lan Xichen smiles. This is not unusual. After all, he’s very generous with his smiles. Jiang Cheng still finds himself surprised.

“You must have been very hurt.” Lan Xichen squeezes his hand when he says this. Which is good, because Jiang Cheng can focus on that instead. On the warmth of his hand, his elegant, long fingers covering his. Instead of… How Lan Xichen picked this to focus on, after everything he said.

Did he make it sound like it was Wei Wuxian’s fault? He’s been hiding behind his anger and blame for so long, maybe that has influenced his telling of the events. Maybe Lan Xichen got the wrong idea. “I… Yes, but… that’s no excuse. He was just helping… he was doing the right thing, even if I… and it’s been so long, so I should really… I should have apologized a long time ago, I’m the one who messed it all up.”

“Are you waiting for him to make the first step?”

He can’t hear any judgment in Lan Xichen’s voice. He’s not saying ‘this is your fault, so you should be the one apologizing’. He’s simply asking about Jiang Cheng’s feelings, because he thinks they matter. Though there’s nothing simple about his feelings.

Jiang Cheng has verbalized this part many times. Has said ‘he abandoned me, he should be the one who apologises’, and variations of it, to his sister. But deep down it’s not what he actually thinks. Because Lan Xichen’s eyes are still kind, because he’s holding his hand, because there’s no judgment, because he doesn’t expect him to answer a certain way… Jiang Cheng tries to be honest.

“I think I am. He’s always… Whenever we fought, he was always the one… Well, he didn’t apologise, but he just went back to teasing me, went back to normal… He knows I just get angry, no matter what I actually feel, he used to know that… I thought it’d be the same this time. But… So, maybe he doesn’t want to make up.”

Tears burn in his eyes and he’s not sure it’s even worth the effort trying to hold them back. They’ll spill sooner or later, just like these words are spilling from his mouth, now that he’s allowing them to. He’s still looking at Lan Xichen’s hand. At both their hands, resting on Lan Xichen’s thigh. Lan Xichen’s thumb strokes the back of his hand, so Jiang Cheng continues.

“If I went to him, he would come back. He’s always… I know he would. But I don’t want to be an obligation or a burden for him. I don’t want him to feel pity for me. If he doesn’t want to… And I understand, our relationship has never been easy. We always existed in comparison to each other and I know he held himself back sometimes, to make up for my lacking… I had thought, with my parents gone it would be - which is a horrible thought - but I thought it would get easier, gentler. But I guess I’m still me. So… I understand. And if he thinks I hate him, he’ll stay away. He seems happy with his life, so…”

Jiang Cheng is crying now, can’t even be bothered by it. And there’s still more words waiting to burst out of him, finally freed after a year of living only in the darkest corners of Jiang Cheng’s heart. Lan Xichen still isn’t saying anything, just listens to everything, holds his hand, shares his warmth with Jiang Cheng, so he doesn’t feel cold while baring himself.

“I can’t help it though, I’m still… I’m still angry. Not just at myself, at him. He said we’d always be brothers, would always be together… I know it’s childish, but he shouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. If he was able to just leave like that, he shouldn’t have… They were my friends, too, I could have helped! He just made his choice and left! And fine, if he’s happier that way… Fine! But then he sends me his stupid selfies, every fucking day! Who does that? Why would he… He should just stay gone, if that’s what he wants!”

He draws in a shuddering breath and sinks back against the couch. There. He’s said everything he’s been holding in. He feels… He doesn’t know what he feels. Drained? Relieved?

Though there’s one more thing, one last thought that wants to escape: “I miss him so much.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Jiang Cheng, who is avoiding Lan Xichen’s eyes again, grabs a tissue and wipes his face. He’s thinking about making a ‘funny’ comment about how the tissues did come in handy after all to break the silence, but Lan Xichen is quicker: “Can I give you a hug?”

Jiang Cheng turns to look at him and… He doesn’t know what to make of Lan Xichen’s expression, his voice. There’s understanding and sympathy, but he also looks… sad, maybe, and it feels like he’s asking to be hugged just as much as he’s asking to give a hug. Jiang Cheng nods and immediately, Lan Xichen lets go of his hand, wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. Jiang Cheng returns the hug tightly, buries his face in Lan Xichen’s hair. Tightens his hold whenever Lan Xichen does the same.

The hug is maybe one of the best he’s ever received. Lan Xichen hugs without restraint. Doesn't hold back, doesn’t feel embarrassed about wanting to hold someone. Doesn't feel embarrassed about seeking such closeness.

Jiang Cheng feels warm and safe and… liked. Even after everything he just said. So he keeps holding on to him until Lan Xichen eventually draws back. He doesn’t fully let go of Jiang Cheng, he only pulls away enough to smile down at him.

“Thank you for telling me. That can’t have been easy.”

“Uh, well, thank you for listening. And it… well, actually it ended up being too easy. Sorry, I just kinda barfed up all those words.” Oh fuck, way to ruin a moment.

However, Lan Xichen simply laughs, before he turns more serious again. “Do you want to hear my thoughts? Or do you just want to rest now?”

Oh… He is exhausted. But simply the fact Lan Xichen gives him this choice is enough to makes him want to keep talking. “I’d like to hear what you think.”

Lan Xichen turns a little, so they can look at each other more comfortably. Jiang Cheng also adjusts his position, until they’re facing each other. Lan Xichen takes Jiang Cheng’s hand again, while the other rests on Jiang Cheng’s knee.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole.”

Jiang Cheng grimaces at such an obvious lie. Lan Xichen chuckles and lifts his hand to smooth out Jiang Cheng’s frown with his fingertips. “Don’t frown, let me finish talking.”

He rolls his eyes a little, but stops frowning and nods.

“I think your anger is very understandable. Your hurt, too. It’s easy to look back at this moment and see everything that went wrong, what you could have done better. But back then you were shocked and hurt, so you lashed out. It doesn’t matter if your brother had good intentions, or did ‘the right thing’... that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset how it affected you.”

Lan Xichen casually wipes away a tear that escaped Jiang Cheng’s eye and continues talking.

“It seems you’ve carried around this moment since then, have thought about it every day, have regretted it every day. And every additional day you weren’t talking made what you did worse in your eyes. So with every day that goes by, trying to fix it becomes even harder. But I don’t think it’s impossible, not at all. What you told me just now… you could tell it to Wei Wuxian.”

Jiang Cheng, who had been stunned into silence by Lan Xichen’s words simultaneously piercing his heart and soothing it, adamantly shakes his head. Probably frowns again. “ Fuck no. I can’t talk with him about this… I’m not good at talking about my feelings.”

“Oh?” Lan Xichen seems to be holding back a laugh. “But you just did it. Very well, in my opinion.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Well… because you’re you. And Wei Wuxian and I… we never talked about the painful stuff because we knew it would end badly. And even if I would manage to talk about it without getting angry or saying hurtful things… Getting him to talk honestly about his feelings would be just as difficult.”

“Maybe he’s been thinking about this as much as you did and has his own regrets.”

Jiang Cheng's first instinct is, of course, to disagree, but… Lan Xichen has said so many things he wants to be true, has said things that felt true… “Yeah… maybe.”

“I know confronting the issue is scary. But maybe it’s more scary to think this… hm… this limbo you’re in will continue? You’re regretting, you’re missing him… but you’re also still hoping. I think so, anyway.”

“Yeah…” Jiang Cheng rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… maybe… “

Lan Xichen looks at him fondly, eyes crinkling. He caresses his cheek again, wiping a few more tears in the process. Jiang Cheng would like to hug him again, would like to kiss him, to bury himself in his warmth. But he realises he really needs to blow his nose, so he does that instead of any of those much nicer things. “Ugh… sorry. Somehow I always end up crying all over you.”

“Ah, last time it was my turn, now you again… it can be our thing.”

Jiang Cheng gives him an incredulous look and they both laugh. “No thank you, that sounds exhausting. I’m sure we can think of something less emotionally draining.”

Lan Xichen hums, clearly amused and presses a kiss to the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand. “True, that would definitely be preferable. But… just for the record… I do not mind. Thank you for trusting me with this. I know how difficult it is to show someone… the parts of yourself you’re ashamed of. It’s something I’m still struggling with. ...As you know.”

Lan Xichen seems embarrassed, which Jiang Cheng cannot accept, so he lifts their hands and presses a kiss to Lan Xichen’s hand this time. “I do trust you. And I… you’re much better at all of this, of course, but you can trust me too, with stuff like that. I’ll try to be… you know... Uhm, anyway, I think I do feel catharsis now! So maybe that’s just our thing, haha.”

“Mhm, definitely sounds better than emotional devastation. Though I suppose they often are closely linked.”

They share another smile, and Jiang Cheng once again thinks how much he’d like to kiss him. But once again, he doesn’t. He suddenly becomes painfully aware of the dried tears on his cheeks, so he excuses himself to go wash his face. He returns to Lan Xichen sitting on the floor between the bunnies and joins him.

This time, Cloud doesn’t pee on him. Lan Xichen still drives him home later and they kiss in the car.

There’s an underlying tenderness every time Lan Xichen touches him. Jiang Cheng only hopes his own touch feels the same. But this kiss… It’s really… They’ve been good at kissing from the start. But this time…It leaves him breathless.

It’s a kiss like their hug earlier. Without embarrassment. Without the need to hold back or hide any feelings. Even though Lan Xichen would have every reason to be cautious.

Once they’ve caught their breath, Lan Xichen invites him over for Thursday afternoon. No massage this time. Just a walk, then tea and cake at his apartment after. Jiang Cheng agrees, obviously. Even if he had class or something, he’d probably still agree. After a kiss like that…

Later, he finds himself in bed with a notebook. It’s a present Wei Wuxian got him - made for him - for his 18th birthday. It has Jiang Cheng’s poems, in beautiful calligraphy… and with illustrations by Wei Wuxian. He even drew a dog for him.

Wei Wuxian… probably misses him, too.

Maybe they can be better brothers after all this. Maybe Jiang Cheng can be a better brother.

The thought of contacting him is still terrifying. But… it feels like the terror becomes smaller.

So, maybe soon…

[hecohansen31]

Not The Right Time

The Story of How Everything Solved (for now):

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU)

(Chapter 1: The Story of How We Ended Up There)

(Chapter 2: The Story of How He Found Out)

(Chapter 3: The Story of How She Found Out)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Happy Easter, if you celebrate it, if not happy Pesach and if not... happy eat-all-the-chocolate in the world!

I hope you’ll enjoy this fic, because I have decided to take a bit of a pause from my original fic, but don’t worry, you’ll have certainly your weekly fic!

As always, I am more than happy to be given feedback.

It has helped me a lot with the last chapter of ‘To Kill a King’ to understand the direction to continue the fic in, so if you have any sugesstion-ideas, I am just here!

Feedback makes my heart beats faster and move my fingers quicker!

Also if you want to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

SUMMARY:  Ivar now hasn't simply to deal with one scorned woman, but two.

But, not only the thought of bieng separated from Eric pains him too much to be considered, but feelings for you are slowly being brought up, even more when you smile so prettily and take care so lovingly of your child.

WORDS: 6,1K 

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Talk about Custody Battles and Custody, Fighting and Angst, Use of The Word Cripple.

The day of the game you couldn’t help but be nervous about whether Ivar would be coming or not.

You had sent him a small message that morning, to ask him to confirm his presence and if he wanted to meet you and Eric, before the game started, to have breakfast together and he hadn’t answered you, making you almost think he wouldn’t have come.

Which you didn’t know if it would have been a good or bad thing.

Maybe he had started thinking that Eric was ‘baggage’ for him, and most importantly would ruin his picture perfect life, although, if it was like that, you didn’t understand why he had insisted so much to try to support you.

But you couldn’t help but dread the thought of what his absence would do to Eric.

You had told him in the car about the fact that Ivar might not have come, lying that he had had an appointment, coming up at last.

‘So… if you don’t see him… don’t worry’ you had tried to console him, although he had already gotten quite the pouting expression, thing that made him similar to Ivar in any way, shape and form.

And you had felt like the worst mother ever.

Eric had brightened up a bit as his friends had all come around him and lead him to the coach, once he arrived at the game.

You definitely appreciated Eric’s schoolmates, and were grateful for the warm welcome they had given him.

He had had his own share of bullies, although he said everything was fine.

But once he had created his own group of friends, the bullies had eventually stopped taunting him.

You still kept an eye out for them at these things.

And as much as you were thankful for the other kids’ company, you dreaded their mothers.

You hated stereotyping people, but no mom had ever been so nice to avoid doing the same with you, as they looked at your hand-me-down clothes, and your lack of diamond ring on your finger.

And at your young face.

You had heard some rumors going around you, how you had gotten pregnant pretty young from an older man, probably some married man and had been basically thrown out of your small city for the shame of carrying a bastard.

A crippled bastard.

So, you tried not to associate yourself with them and instead, you had developed some kind of strange friendship with Angelika.

Angelika had also married young and had a child even younger, but after a small year together her husband had decided that the married life wasn’t for him.

He had gotten himself a mistress, meanwhile Angelika tried her best to keep the family safe and going, getting a small job in a local law firm.

By the end of the year she had kicked out the lazy husband and was the owner of the law firm, in a truly inspiring story.

At first, she hadn’t liked you, too young and stupid.

She had thought you had done the same mistake as her, but then she had soon discovered that the story was deeper, and she had taken the time to get to know you.

Not only she had become your friend, but she had pushed you to pursue the gallery work, eventually getting you an appointment as a try-out.

She was honestly one of the few people that you trusted and felt like she genuinely liked you.

Angelika immediately reached out to you, as she saw you arriving on the side of field where parents were allowed.

As usually she carried her small water bottle, filled with vodka and orange juice, and the ripped shirt of the soccer team, worn inside of her boyfriend jeans, meanwhile you wore it over it, completely uncaring of your appearance.

“Oh, thank God, you are here” she immediately mumbled, gripping onto your arm, as she brought you in a tight hug “… it’s been for ever since I last saw you”.

“… been busy” you were simply able to breath and you giggled softly at her affectionate antics, before she smirked at you.

“Gosh all business and no fun” she reprimanded as she took in your discarded appearance “… I gotta take you to some club”.

“What about Finn and Eric?” you asked, although you knew perfectly that if Angelika put her mind to something, everything would ever change.

“Drop them at my house, I’ll tell Theresa about it” Theresa was her German nanny, perfect and impeccable always eye-rolling at Angelika’s antics, but it didn’t wok with Angelika, who would eye-roll even harder back at her.

“I’ll think about it…” you mumbled, unsure of the entire thing.

Before Eric you had never been one for clubs or such, and you certainly wouldn’t start after the entire pregnancy and your motherhood, not simply because some nights you were too tired to even crawl to bed, but because there was a reason behind your uncaring appearance.

You were scared of your body.

Of the way it had changed during your pregnancy.

“… I know that tone” mumbled Angelika, prowling around you as a big feline “… that’s the ‘it’s definitely a no, but I am too gentle to tell you no’ “.

“That’s a ‘I’ll think about it’ “you retorted softly, as you gently held an hand out for her, before something else caught your eyes.

Ivar.

He had come.

And he was looking around as if he was a lost child.

“Just excuse me, for a moment…” you mumbled softly, as you approached him carefully, since he had this kind of lost emotion in his eyes, sadness almost and you couldn’t help but feel a fifteen girl again, who blurted out weird Taylor Swift lyrics because her best friend was unhappy, and she was trying to make him feel better.

He shook himself back to consciousness as he saw you in front of him, almost scared.

“Well you are here!” you said it with definitely much more uneasiness that you were supposed to, almost a forced out emotion “… I mean… you didn’t answer me… so I thought…”.

“Yes, I am here” and you knew that with that tone you had gone back to that fifteen-year-old-girl smiling at her best friend, because she knew she loved him.

You were screwed.

---

Ivar had woken up on the couch that morning, with his legs hurting like hell and yet, when he had seen your worried messages on his phone, he had just thought that he would be late for Eric’s game.

And he couldn’t.

He had swallowed a few painkillers, as the memory of last night came back to him, but nothing set onto him till he moved into his car, setting the journey for the school park, but then he just couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

‘What the hell am I thinking?’.

His soon-to-be-wife had basically left him because of his lies towards his life with you, and he was running to you and your child, as if you were his wife.

Which would only confirm Freydis’ jealousy.

Although he wouldn’t have approved of her psyched behavior, she certainly hadn’t been wrong about the influence you and Eric now held over him, but he would have preferred she hadn’t straight up attacked him.

But to avoid this, he shouldn’t have kept the secret from the start.

But would have Freydis allowed him to see Eric?

With that serious tone of their ‘confrontation’, he couldn’t help but feel like he had seen a side to Freydis he wasn’t used to.

Something he wasn’t completely unaware of, since he had seen some glimpses of it, but at the same time, it now seemed so deep-rooted that for a minute he had to admit that he had thought that she was going to be much more than simply vocal about the matter.

He certainly felt guilty for the wrongness of some of his actions, but he was also surprised by Freydis’ reaction to them.

He had thought some jewelry and a few promises might have made it all better, but now, in the aftermath of their fight, he had no idea how to make everything better.

Certainly, dwelling in his car wouldn’t have worked.

He tried to contact her, but her phone was switched off, and he honestly didn’t know where she could be found, certainly not a work, which was the only other contact he had for her.

And he realized he knew nothing of his soon-to-be-wife.

He didn’t know who were her friends, to who she could have gone and neither her family, since Freydis had told him that she had had a bad experience with them and had run off as soon as she could have.

He remembered a small apartment at which he had come to pick her up on their first dates, but she had soon moved away from it, as soon as Ivar proposed he just started living with her.

Hence, she was a ghost.

And although it made Ivar feel like a horrible husband, he couldn’t help but decide that this meant that she simply didn’t want to be found.

If he knew one thing for sure about Freydis was that she never did anything without a reason.

And he should have respected that.

Although it pained him.

He didn’t want to give her the impression that he didn’t care.

But at the same time, as he had made it clear the previous night, he wouldn’t leave Eric.

No matter what.

Hence, he started the engine and got to the school park.

He had almost regretted the decision, when he had arrived at the venue, immediately catching a crowd of chanting parents had welcomed and, although everybody kept their eyes to themselves, he couldn’t shake off the fact that they were staring him down.

He caught sight of you quite easily, as he saw you by the side of a pretty brunette with feline eyes, trying to convince you to do something reckless by the horrified look on your face.

It was the same you’d give Hvitserk every time he’d try his wicked charm on you.

Those were happier and easier times.

You were wearing a simple soccer jersey and oversized jeans, and although they both hid your body, they did nothing to dampen the natural beauty you had always owned.

He couldn’t help but wonder how men didn’t buzz around you like bees on a flower.

‘Stop being a creep Ivar’ he told himself, meanwhile he remembered the words of Heahamund after he had shown him a photo of you and Eric.

‘Fucking God! Do you even realize what a hot babe you left?’ he had immediately stammered as Ivar blushed ‘… did they drop you on your head as a child’.

And he confirmed it, with the way he answered your question.

Your eyes held a frantic fear and a pleasant surprise, almost as if she hadn’t thought that he’d actually come.

And your cheeks were flushed red.

He had a pleasant memory of your cheeks being flushed after their first and last night together.

It brought out all kind of memories.

‘Again, Ivar, no’.

“Well I am glad you are here” whatever gentleness you had showed for him immediately retreated back in you as you turned “… Eric will be happy of it”.

“Of course, I couldn’t miss his great day” his tone was teasing, and he could see with the way you stiffened in your position, he had hit something inside of you “… is he already on the playing ground?”.

“Sadly yes” you mumbled, but pointed him out to him, although he didn’t need much time looking to recognize the only child with braces, trying to exercise with the others, and as he exchanged a quick glance with his child, Eric immediately raised an hand to salute him.

His smile got so so big, that Ivar couldn’t help but smile back.

And ignore the continued glares sent his way.

Now intensified with his proximity to you.

He could only imagine what they all were talking about.

And as you two took a quick seat beside the brunette he had seen you talking with at the entrance of the venue, she immediately moved towards Ivar, offering a hand and a charming smile of pointy teeth.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved that your ‘friends’ were so protective of you.

You deserved it.

You deserved to be protected from anything else that could have hurt you, after everything you had endured.

“… Angelika Magnussen” she mumbled quickly presenting herself “… (Y/N)’s best friend”.

He almost wanted to scoff that he had once been your best friend…

… and look where it got him.

Where it got both of you.

“Nice to meet you, Ivar Lothbrock…” he sent you a quick look to check with you, but there was no need to lie since everybody seemed to recognize what was going on “… Eric’s father”.

“Gosh I never thought I would have ever met you” in her tone there was a tang of sarcasm that annoyed Ivar, definitely more used to people like Freydis and his mother who would have no trouble agreeing and siding with him.

Maybe not Freydis, anymore.

“… I didn’t know” he simply muttered and you pushed yourself between her and him, sending to both a vicious glare, before the referee whistled the start of the game, getting the three of you to focus on the game.

Ivar couldn’t help but be on edge as soon as he saw Eric in oversized gloves, trying to guard the door, something that could seem absolutely normal and harmless for every child who didn’t have osteogenesis imperfecta.

But for Eric, he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

But you beside him seemed completely at ease, cheering on the boy as he managed to block the ball from entering the doors, and then pushing the ball to his schoolmates.

He couldn’t help but be again amazed by your prettiness and the natural way you did everything and handled motherhood.

And then a ball hit Eric right on his chest, knocking him off his legs, enough that both you and Ivar immediately moved raising up as Ivar made a move to move away from the steps you were sat onto, but you grabbed his hand to stop him as Eric got up pretty quickly, the trainer of the team coming close to him, alongside the school nurse.

And Eric immediately put himself up, lightly limping as the nurse helped him off the field, and the trainer got another boy to take care of his place.

And then as he moved towards the benches, you both scurried off the steps.

You both came to the part that was the closest to the benches seeing the nurse helping Eric with his braces, as you oversaw the entire process, before moving to check in with the nurse, his bones.

Thankfully the hit had been to the chest and the legs bucking off under him were simply for the impact.

And Ivar couldn’t help but watch raptured your soft gestures and the way Eric leaned in softly against you, as you checked on him before helping him into his braces again, asking with a whisper if he felt ‘ok’ enough to stay.

The child immediately nodded as a few of his classmates moved to also check on him.

Ivar had never had this kind of love poured onto him.

He had also to admit that sadly he wasn’t an easy child, as loving and gentle as Eric was.

But he couldn’t help but appreciate that his son had what he hadn’t had back then.

He might end up not turning up in the big screw-up Ivar was.

You returned to him a few minutes later by Ivar’s side, and although you had seemed quite calm and cold-blooded for the entire action, he saw the way your body trembled lightly and…

… your hands were still linked.

Suddenly you gripped tight back onto his.

And he honestly liked it too much to tell you anything, although it wasn’t proper.

He had Freydis.

Or at least he had had her.

Because her actions of the previous night certainly weren’t something that made him feel reassured about his relationship status.

But at the same time, he wasn’t sure that it was so bad to be away from Freydis.

Mostly when your hands matched so perfectly in his.

He had forgotten this feeling.

And he realized he had missed it.

And when you unlatched your hands, as you sat down, he couldn’t help but feel more hurt by that than the pain in his legs, that was starting to bother him.

As soon as the game was finished. he pushed himself by side, meanwhile you and Angelika waited for your children, to take his pills again.

He was caught mid-swallow by a laughing Eric as the boy limped lightly to him and you helped him, a blond boy beside him, who hid underneath Angelika’s legs and from the way their eyes shone of the same malice, he understood he was her child.

“Ivar! Ivar!” he called out, as he tugged gently onto one leg of his pants “… have you seen the way I got that ball?”.

You giggled at his excitement and Ivar couldn’t help but nod gingerly, although he didn’t know shit of soccer, and compliment his child on his optimal score, but Angelika’s child looked at him suspiciously before muttering softly.

“… your dad doesn’t know shit about soccer” he muttered, immediately getting both yours and Angelika’s attention.

“Phineas Christian Hogarth! I don’t pay an expensive German nanny for you to curse in American!” Angelika reprimanded him quickly, gripping tight onto his shoulders, as she saluted you, continuing her lecture “… at least do it in German!”.

But the deed was done.

And Eric looked confusedly at you and Ivar.

Ivar wasn’t so afraid of it all, in the end it only accelerated things, but you looked like you had had seen a ghost and Ivar quickly proposed going out to lunch to celebrate, hence shifting the attention away from the boiling revelation.

And Eric was all too happy to be distracted.

Even more with food.

But you looked still so shaken that he couldn’t help but feel like the tables had turned from the start of the day, with him being the confused one.

As you both sat down, finishing your lunch, as Eric escaped your attention to move onto the game section of the restaurant.

“… I am sure that he’ll forget about it, as soon as he can” he mumbled softly.

You were unfocused as your gaze didn’t shift from Eric, till you shook yourself away of it.

“Maybe…” you seemed doubtful, although Eric hadn’t said anything, proceeding to explain to Ivar everything that worked in soccer, as you drove them to a small restaurant, definitely chosen for the children area and menu.

He couldn’t help but think again about all the work you had done as a mother.

It certainly took all the courage of the world to grow a child on your own.

“… and would it be so wrong to if he had heard right?” he asked, and you petrified him on the spot with a tight look.

“That depends…” he had loved that teasing tone you’d use every time you were annoyed with somebody that wasn’t him “… will you stick around?”.

“I am trying to” he commented.

“And Freydis?” you were hitting low, he wasn’t surprised “… does she know about this?”.

And his eyes answered before his words and you pushed yourself back lightly as if you had lowered yourself too much in his psyche.

“… she knows” you simply mumbled.

“… and she doesn’t like” he added with the same grim tone “… she is also pregnant so…”.

“… so she thinks that Eric is threat to her child” you completed and Ivar couldn’t also deny that he had missed your immediate telepathy “… we won’t be pissed if you want to disappear, you can do it, I don’t…”.

“I don’t want to run away!” his voice raised lightly and the usual annoying old lady beside their table raised her head to hear them better, but Ivar immediately lowered his tone again “… I don’t do that… anymore”.

“But she is pissed” you mumbled, your tone almost guilty “… I could call her, explain how we aren’t… we aren’t involved and how…”.

“She has switched off her phone” he shot back.

“… doesn’t this sound familiar?”.

And yeah that did sound familiar.

It was the same that had happened when he had broken your heart.

“… yeah it does” as he raised his head to meet yours, he almost expected to see a satisfied smile on your face, but you looked honestly… sad for him.

“… she won’t leave you” you mumbled softly “… you didn’t break her heart”.

“I kind of think that hiding a family from her is not exactly the definition of caring for another”.

“And yet you were happy for the baby and you proved to her that you wanted it” you spoke softly, as if you had imagined the same with you “… she just needs to clear up her head”.

“It’s fucking strange that you are comforting me” he mumbled, unbelieving what you were doing.

“… well I am used to your fuck-ups” you giggled silly, shooting a look at Eric as you continued to be attentive at him “… but if she gives you another chance please don’t fuck this up, ok?”.

“Ok” he mumbled, before his gaze also shifted on Eric “… she wanted me to give up on Eric”.

“Don’t blame her” and he hadn’t expected it “… us, women, are put against each other as natural competitors, so it isn’t strange for her to feel threatened by me, although she has nothing to fear. She is the one with an engagement ring”.

“I also think it’s because you and me… we…” Gosh why was he acting like a teenage boy “… had sex back then”.

And you were also flushing.

“I am not interested in your adventurous sex life with Freydis… but don’t you also?”.

“No” why was he explaining your sex life with you “… you were the only one with who… you know… the doctors said that it’s the legs and some others told me it was just my confidence not being enough… the child was created in vitro”.

“Oh” you looked taken aback, and he could see that you were processing the thought of being the only one he had been with, in “that” way “… well I do say that she has a few reasons to detest me”.

He just nodded.

“… but I do think that she should be sure about your love” you added immediately a nostalgic tint in your pretty eyes.

“Why?”.

“Because I know for experience that when you fall for somebody you fall hard, and so deeply that it is difficult not to feel loved, even though you are an asshole and sometimes a bit too harsh with your words, but you have this thing that’ll make everyone feel like being loved by you is the greatest privilege ever”.

And like that you had come closer to him, maybe more than it should have been allowed between two ex-lovers, one of which was engaged.

But he couldn’t help but value attentively each word you said, as you gently pushed yourself back, as if you hadn’t revealed to him some special secret.

Back in it, he had always thought he was ‘the difficult one’ but with those words a veil of insecurities was lifted off his chest and he couldn’t help but think about how it would have been if he had stayed with you.

And for one moment, he almost wished it.

---

You had definitely gone mad that evening.

And you blamed it on the fact that Ivar’s behavior had simply brought you back to five years ago, when you’d walk together on the small playing field of school, usually with one trying to convince the other to ditch school.

It was mostly Ivar, but you had followed many times his dark influence.

And again, this time it had gotten to you.

But it had felt nice.

Except the entire Freydis’ thing.

You had honestly felt bad for her, almost guilty, although it was Ivar’s fault (and you had told him so, as you suggested what to do to calm her down), because she seemed as somebody extremely nice with the way Ivar described her and she shouldn’t have had somebody just barging in her life with a child that could shatter her relationship with Ivar.

Maybe you should have spoked with her, explaining that you weren’t a threat to her and her child in the slightest.

One day Ivar would have gotten tired of this toy and would have wanted a new one.

And yet, the way Ivar had reacted immediately when Eric had got hurt and the way he played almost naturally with him (even informing himself on ‘The Flash’) was genuine and you hoped it’d last.

You were coming back home, just in time for a shower and a dinner, since Eric had insisted to teach Ivar a few tricks with the balls in the nearby field and Ivar, although clumsily, had agreed, even going as far as to ask you to film him getting won over by your child.

Eric had fallen asleep on the field and you had had to use a bit of Ivar’s help to get him back in the car, as he asked you if you needed anything.

‘Just do me a favor and try calling again Freydis, she’s probably going to switch her phone soon, believe me’.

‘If it makes you sleep well at night…’ he had replied simply, shifting the sarcasm back onto you, and it had been… strange.

Although again, from what Ivar said, Freydis seemed nice, he had seemed to talk about her as somebody would of an idealized role-model, but with less passion and more analysis of why ‘she was such a good partner’.

But it wasn’t your place to judge.

You woke up Eric as you arrived at home, the big boy immediately attaching himself to you as a koala, as you pleaded with him to let you go.

‘Mommy is a frail gazelle, and you weight like an elephant!’.

‘Mommy you are more a lemur’.

‘You pass a few hours with Ivar and then you treat me like this!’ you had retorted before tickling him till he had asked for forgiveness and had been awake enough to walk on his own, helped by you, because due to the strain he had put himself through his legs hurt.

‘A quick bath will solve everything’ you had mumbled and as you had helped him clean himself, as he played absentmindedly with a small boat, he had asked the fateful question you had been waiting for him to ask:

“Is… Is Ivar my daddy?”.

You froze in your movements, although you had been waiting for that question since Phineas had pointed it out.

In the end Eric was a smart boy, he certainly wouldn’t have missed all the clues.

And you couldn’t lie anymore.

“Yes” you mumbled trying to keep your tone low, as you saw your child’s eyes brighten and immediately all that fear of your child being hurt scared you even more than the thought of him running away from you.

“Then why didn’t he tell me before?” he continued asking, curious enough to prove to you that he had inherited Ivar’s precious mind.

“Because I asked him not to” you mumbled gently, seeing immediately offense shining in his eyes “… you see me and your dad… we didn’t have a good relationship, your dad… your dad and I aren’t together”.

“Does that mean that he isn’t my daddy” his tone honestly broke your heart and you couldn’t help but be hurt by this yourself and you hurried to shush him softly.

“No no, he is, but…” you didn’t want to break your heart to your own child, but you couldn’t keep him in the shadows “:.. daddy has another child on the way and a woman who will become his wife soon, so he might… he might not want you to call him ‘daddy’ “.

You tried to be the most delicate possible, but you, yourself, were on the verge of tears and were grateful that Eric didn’t ask questions for a bit, as he seemed to think all over this.

“… but I’m your mom and he’s your daddy that means that we’ll always love you, even if we are a bit busy… “ you tried to sweeten everything “… don’t ever doubt that”.

He seemed to think about it again and as your heart was breaking you rushed to take him in a big hug, as he hugged you back immediately and you stayed like that till you felt  a bit too cold for your drenched shirt, and gently moved your child away slightly to help him out of the bathtub.

As you were drying his hair, he finally spoke again.

“… but can I ask him if I can call him ‘daddy’, the next time we see him?”.

And you smiled at the sweetness of your boy.

“Of course, sweetie”.

---

Ivar had tried to call Freydis but again her phone was off.

He was halfway through asking Oleg to dig up his ‘sources’ to search her, when he walked back in the apartment and found her there, as if solely his positive thought had made her appear.

And he honestly had a few minutes in which he simply looked at her getting dinner ready thinking it might be a hallucination.

And as much as he had been worried, he couldn’t help but also be a bit disappointed by her presence.

And guilty for having spent the day with you.

She continued preparing of dinner, and Ivar took his sweet time adjusting everything about himself, such as getting out of his braces and pushing his light coat onto the coat-hanger, making less noise possible, as if a noise would have startled her into disappearing.

He felt like he was in trap, having no other option than to acknowledge her presence and she did the same with him.

With her usual smile as if nothing had happened.

But it only angered Ivar further.

“… where were you?” he asked, huffing out the question “… I was worried”.

“I was over at Ubbe’s house” and the affirmation hit Ivar in the guts, because he’d have expected his brother to at least say something, maybe to ease his smaller brother’s worries.

And worst of all: what would he have thought about Ivar letting his wife go.

“… I think we need to talk” he muttered, since Freydis was certainly ignoring the entire situation as if it hadn’t happened “… about what happened last night”.

And finally Freydis stopped her rummaging of the kitchen to look at him, her pretty clear eyes and her styled hair doing nothing of what they’d use to do on Ivar’s heart, as if it was frozen and not even her timeless beauty could make him feel better or less annoyed by her childish antics.

And her betrayal.

“I… I am sorry” mumbled Freydis, completely surprising him as he expected her to at least keep up her attitude of the previous night “… last night… I was… out of control”.

And what was worst of all was that deep down he felt annoyed by her apology.

As if he felt it wasn’t genuine.

He kept his mouth shut, playing the silence game with her as she stammered through what he’d have described as ‘excuses’:

“… I was a bit tipsy… and I… it’s shocking, isn’t it?”.

“Freydis, I am not…” he tried to formulate a thought that wouldn’t have made her feel attacked “… I am also not completely in the right, since I should have told you about it from the start but it was a shock for me too”.

“Well… but for me… think this like me, Ivar, please” she pleaded softly as she sat down in front of him “… you are pregnant and your fiancé finds out he had a child from a past relationship… would you have felt calm?”.

He certainly wouldn’t have been calm, but at the same time the possessive and mean way she had talked to him and about Eric.

“Certainly no, but I’d have asked for explanations” and then decided on the matter.

“… I wanted to, but then… you were so convinced to keep the baby in our life…” she was stammering again, as if her confusion was a sign of her heartbreak, the same way she had felt when she had discovered it “… and since you didn’t tell me I thought you wanted to keep it a secret, that you’d have discarded me for another…”.

And in that moment, finally, Freydis’ apology seemed genuine.

But mostly because he, himself could understand her train of thoughts: the worry of being replaced being one of his biggest fear.

And one hand shot out to hers to comfort her softly and she leaned in immediately.

“Freydis, I am not discarding you, I want you, I want you as my wife” he spoke, his tone slowing on every word, as she softly moved even closer to him, gently purring against his warmer body “… but Eric is my child and I don’t want to abandon him”.

And although Freydis hid well her annoyance to this, he still felt her stiffen against him, eventually getting her to simply nod, but she didn’t speak.

But it could have been worse.

And yet he thought about the afternoon with you…

… it could have been better.

---

You had managed to brighten Eric’s mood through a ‘rewatch’ of the ‘Small Avengers’ series and as the phone drilled, he immediately caught to get it, faking being Quicksilver, as your mother pretended to catch him.

But he dodged her quickly and got the ‘magical phone’, joking he had defeated Ultron as you and your mother faked being dead and defeated.

Eric proceeded to answer the phone, since he thought it might have been Phineas, calling him to chat about the game, since they usually would spend the afternoon together talking and they hadn’t been able to do it, today.

And you were very surprised when Eric thrilled an excitedly screamed: ‘mom it’s Ivar!’.

And you quickly ‘reanimated’ yourself and rushed for the phone, as your mother’s hands wrapped around Eric, and you moved to your room, in order to have a bit of privacy.

“Haven’t you had enough of us?” you joked, although you felt like choking.

“… maybe not” he shot back “… she came back”.

And Gosh it hurt.

Although you were aware that a relationship between you two wasn’t possible and you had made peace with that, still the notion that he had moved on, hurt you in a way that stole all the breath from your lungs.

It was impossible that already five years had passed.

“I am glad” your tone was pointed “… now don’t fuck it up”.

You were almost ready to close the phone in his face, when his voice kept on talking.

“I told her about Eric, and how I won’t abandon him, even though I am marrying her”.

That was unexpected, to say the least.

“… how did she take it?” you asked between tight teeth.

“Well… I think”.

“That doesn’t seem well” you shot back, with a sarcastic laugh.

“… it was either that or not being together” the ruthless voice Ivar had assumed made a shiver go down your spine “… now that I have finally found you, I am not giving up on you”.

He could have said ‘Eric’ or ‘him’ but he had chosen ‘you’.

You shouldn’t honestly overthink about it all…

… but you were overthinking it.

“Now can I talk with him?”.

Yeah, you shouldn’t overthink the entire thing.

“Just let me get him” you replied softly, as you found Eric with his ear against the door of your room “… we have had the talk”:

“That’s…” Ivar’s voice trembled lightly “… wonderful”.

You simply moved the phone onto Eric’s hands, unable to deal with this illusion any longer, as the child immediately giggled softly, and he greeted Ivar, sprinting off to his own room, but you could hear clearly when he called Ivar ‘daddy’.

And for the first time, in this whole mess, you thought that maybe it would have made less damage than you believed it would.

---

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[taliaromanovaswife]

Exothermic - SFW version

Summary: Meet the original character, plagued by amnesia after an accident. But what if a certain deadly assassin is the cure for that?

The sound of her own, slow footsteps was her only companion on this evening's stroll through the sterile, clean corridors. Though barely audible, the noise was almost deafening to her and yet it did not manage to stop her mind from reeling. Nothing around her seemed familiar, starting with her room and ending with the smell of the hallways. There was absolutely nothing that managed to jog her memory so far, and it irked her. Apparently, she was a member of the greatest team of heroes that walked the Earth, but every time she looked into their faces, her brain could not connect the dots. And worst of all, every Avenger had told her that they were not allowed to help her; that her amnesia had to fade on its own terms and that telling her the truth could make it worse in the end. So, here she was. Eight weeks after an accident where she had been thrown through a window on the first floor, discharged from the hospital because her wounds were healing nicely, yet she still did not remember anything from her past. Nothing, except for her name, age and powers, but even that information was given to her.

Alexandra, twenty-five, defender and healer – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Pressing her palms against her temple, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at herself. Nothing happened, just like nothing had happened since the day she regained consciousness. She had no clue how her powers actually worked, but if she was a healer, then why was she unable to heal her own brain? “You're so stupid”, she cried out, banging the balls of her hands against her already aching head. “Why can't you work? I just want to know who the fuck I am?!”

She rounded another corner, walking past half a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows when she stopped dead in her tracks. Something in the corner of her eye had caught her attention, something she was unsure had been there before. Nevertheless, it was something that spoke to her and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of familiarity warming up her insides.

Taking a chance, the tall blonde tried the door handle, happy to find it unlocked. After light brown eyes had scanned the area to make sure that she was alone, tentative feet slipped through a small gap, still wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her now. She had been walking these halls since she was brought home, but had never noticed a piano up here, or anywhere for that matter. Not even downstairs in the bar. ‘Too expensive’, the man who introduced himself as Tony Stark had said when she had asked. ‘The last one got destroyed by Ultron’, a muscular, tall, blond guy had added before receiving death glares from the rest of the group. Alexandra had no idea who Ultron was. How could she, if she was still unable to put the pieces of her own past back together? And what about her present? Did she even go by her full first name or did she prefer it was shortened to Alex? Or even Lexi? Did she like being an Avenger? How strong was her power, how strong was she? She did not know and they did not tell her. But she felt drawn to the piano, as if it was calling out for her and that feeling eased some of her frustration.

Carefully lifting the fall board and locking it in an upright position, shaky fingers pressed down a combination of keys that her brain did not remember, but her muscles certainly did. Muscle memory, she sighed. How could she remember this but not even the bare minimum of her life? Her most important muscle was not working the way it should. Slender hands pulled the matching black piano bench out from under the instrument and she sat down, her fingers gliding over the keys like second nature as her feet hit the pedals.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to a different time. A different piano was in front of her and perfectly manicured short, red-painted fingernails produced a tune she could not hear. But if Alexandra had to guess, she was reliving a tiny bit of her memory. Maybe, hopefully, this was the pivotal ingredient that she had been missing.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to work the way they knew how to, her vision not providing much help anyway. And as the melody filled the air and cautious fingertips became more confident of their skill, so did her feet. Alexandra was no expert in how muscle memory actually worked, but she could not explain what was happening right now any other way. Her mind drew blank on the names of the songs that she brought to life, and yet, somehow her brain knew what belonged together and when she transitioned to a new melody. So she kept playing, kept her eyes shut tight and let her emotions rage freely like a wildfire.

Alexandra was so lost in her creations, she did not register the other person entering the room, nor did she feel their presence. Her upper body leaned into the music, swayed with every crescendo and diminuendo. The music consumed her entire system, every nerve ending was accommodating to her trance as the cells in her brain sprang into action. Still, her fingers danced over black and white keys in the most beautiful pattern she had ever heard.

Natasha Romanoff was utterly captivated by the sight before her eyes, as mesmerizing and enthralling as ever. From the moment she had stepped into the room, she stood still and quiet, simply listening to the melody with a sad smile on her face. There was something magical about the way that Alexandra commanded the keys under the pads of her fingers and she was glad she had suggested buying a piano for the younger woman. It was minutes later that she slipped her ballet shoes on and tied the ribbons around her ankles, green eyes never leaving the figure behind the piano. Even as she pulled her red hair into a neat bun – years of practice making the need for a mirror unnecessary – her gaze was fixed on the musician, waiting. The assassin had noticed the slight change in the other hero's posture, the deeper breaths and the parted lips. She knew what was coming, long before Alexandra herself had figured it out.

Words formed in her head. If one were to ask her, Alexandra would say she did not know where they came from, her brain not remembering the song. But her heart did, even if it did not understand the meaning just yet. “Dancing around in the rain again.”, she sang, finding the lyrics to the accords she played. Her voice was soft and quiet, trembling with insecurity at first. 'Cause you said that I was my only friend. Playing with the flowers that I picked myself. Because I know they won't come from anybody else. Wrap myself up to warm my hands. From the biting ice that you made them stand.”

As her favorite voice filled the room, velvety and clear, Natasha began to stretch her tired muscles. Last week's mission had been tough on all of them, and the ache from multiple hits and countless falls still lingered in her bones. It could have been worse, but it also could have gone a lot smoother and with less injuries. Still, there was no pain that could stop her from being here, from dancing to Alexandra’s song. Not her bruised ribs and most definitely not her bandaged wrist – just a sprain, she told everybody.

Tears began to form behind her closed eyes. How could she remember songs but not her life? What kind of sick and twisted condition was this retrograde amnesia and why would it not let go of her? And while her fingers moved across the keys without any mistakes, and her feet operated the pedals below them, the first tears spilled down her cheeks. She just wanted to remember. “I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.”

Natasha's heart broke for the person, as it did every day since the accident. She had thought that the first few days had been the hardest, when no doctor was giving a clear statement whether or not she would wake from the coma. Then, when Alexandra did wake up but did not know who she was, did not recognize her, the agent's entire world fell apart. Adjustments had been made before the young Avenger had been released from the hospital, hushed conversations that would make everybody feel left out had become the norm around the blonde hero. But every look into Alexandra's sad eyes chipped away at the – usually put-together – assassin. Natasha shook those thoughts from her head as she carefully pushed herself onto her tip toes and raised her arms above her head, extending her index finger and pinkie into perfect position. Out of everything she had been trained in on her way to become one of the deadliest assassins in Russian history, ballet had always been her favorite and to this day, she still used dancing as a stress reliever.

Brown, teary eyes fluttered open and the music abruptly stopped. Her fingers halted over the keys, her mouth remained agape as she stared at the woman who was introduced to her as Natasha Romanoff. She thought she was alone, but there stood the beautiful Russian, dressed in tight black leggings, a matching form-fitting black bodice and a white silken skirt. “I’m-“ She pulled her fingers in, forming fists that slowly clenched and unclenched with every passing second, her heart rate speeding up to the same rhythm. Nervously chewing on her own bottom lip, she stared at her own hands and then back at the other woman. “Was I not supposed to be in here?”, she asked anxiously, Natasha’s intense green eyes seemingly staring right into her soul.

“Please don’t be scared”, the assassin replied. “This is your home, you can be in every room you want to be in, use everything you want or need.” Graciously lowering herself back onto her entire feet and resting her hands on her hips, the redhead tried reassuring her. “You should feel at home here.”

The words were mumbled, but Alexandra still caught it and scoffed. “And yet, everybody stops talking when I walk into a room”, the woman shot back, smoothing her palms over the long, honey-blonde braid and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy being me right now, whoever I am. But you did not deserve this.” Everybody around here had been nothing but amazing towards her, despite her condition. Sure, their conversations stopped or changed, but that did not mean that she was not included in whatever topic followed after. “I can go, if you want to-“

“Please don’t”, Nat said in a haste, stopping herself before she could say the name that lingered on the tip of her tongue. She took deep breaths, reminding herself that Alexandra’s memory was yet to come back. “Would you play for me?”, she asked quietly, her lips curling into a smile. “Your song was very beautiful and I would like to dance to it.”

The blonde eyed the assassin apprehensively. Was this a regular occasion? Did she used to sing for other people? “Damn it, you stupid brain”, she cursed under her breath, eliciting a light chuckle from Natasha. Thinking about the request for a moment, she finally agreed. “Only if I am allowed to watch you dance.”

“Always”, the redhead smiled, her body protesting slightly as she pushed herself into the releve pose. She steadied herself before finding Alexandra's eyes. “Ready when you are.”

As if nothing had stopped her in the first place, expert finger tips roamed over the keys, picking up where they had left off. Once again, the melody resonated in the air, but this time, Alexandra only had eyes for the gorgeous woman dancing for her. Every part of Natasha’s body appeared to be in sync with her music and somehow the blonde knew that this was not the first time she had twirled to this particular song. “Dancing around in the dark again. But I'm happier now than I ever was then. Feel my heart as it is ablaze. Making room for another in these better days. Days, days.” Forcefully pressing the keys into the instrument as the music became louder and more spirited, brown eyes followed Natasha’s every motion doing the same. She did not notice the two figures standing on the other side of the glass, staring and smiling at her.

Wanda sighed in content, listening to the sound of Alexandra's beautiful voice. She and Natasha always begged the young hero to sing for them, or at least play one of her favorite compositions for them. It helped with the stress after a long day of work. It eased their minds and both women knew that the same applied to Alexandra. “Do you think this will help her?”, the witch asked aloud, her Sokovian accent less prominent now that she was spending most of her time around Americans. Cocking her head to the left but never averting her eyes, she added, “Natasha could use a sliver of good news.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Steve observed as one of his oldest friends danced. He let out a long breath. “I really hope so. I don't know how long Nat can keep going like this. It's ripping her apart.” The super soldier truly admired the redhead for still walking tall. He was not sure he could do the same. “If this doesn't work, then I don't know what could, besides telling Alex the truth. And the doctor's strictly recommended not to do that. But-”

“But at this rate, our most deadliest and finest assassin is no use on missions”, Wanda finished his sentence with a soft nod while watching the Black Widow dance with an elegance unmatched by anything she had ever seen.

“I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.” Alexandra's vocal cords vibrated deep within her throat as her voice reverberated with every word she sang. Louder and louder. The keys molded to her every tap and she had to focus on keeping her eyes open. She never let Natasha out of sight, but as the song went on, it was harder and harder not to give in to the music and let her feelings take over. “Oh, watch me exo, o, o, o. Watch me exo burn this. I deserve it, ohh. I deserved this. I deserve it, oh! I deserve this, woah!”

The Russian's feet hit the parquet floor in a faster pattern now, her body spiraling with every pirouette. The position of her hands was immaculate, the satin skirt wafted with every turn and yet, every time she spun around, her eyes locked on Alexandra's. Watching the other woman play with such intensity, like nothing had changed in the past weeks, made her want to cry. But Natasha swallowed her emotions and danced until the blonde stopped playing. She came to a stop, her breathing ragged and the pain from her bruised ribs jabbing into her sides. Still, Nat regretted nothing.

Neither of them said a word or dared to move. The last notes had long since faded away, but they still felt connected through the music. An invisible bond both held onto, fearing that breaking the silence would involuntarily end this moment of peace.

It was Alexandra who moved first, carefully closing the fall board and rising to her feet. “This was nice, we should do this again.” The comment came with a smile. She had not felt this free in weeks and even though her memories did not return – she had hoped they would – the blonde felt a lot better. “Thank you for the dance, Natalia”, she said out of a habit she did not understand. Hearing the sentence, but specifically that name, falling from her own lips caused a chain reaction. She froze on the spot and went stiff as her brain was flooded with millions of memories from her past. Missions and fighting. Loki, Ultron. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America. The Hulk. Clint and Wanda, her brother Pietro. Vision. Her healing a gash on Natasha's temple. Natasha. Everything came back to her, and all at once. And as her brain completed the puzzle, everything began to make sense again. The last image she saw showed Natasha – her Natalia – in a simple white dress and with white flowers in her red, wavy hair as she was waiting for her on the grass behind the Avenger's compound. And then finally, she remembered her full name. Alexandra Romanoff.

Natasha gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She had waited so long to hear her wife say her name again. No one ever called her Natalia, no one but Alexandra. “Sasha”, she whispered her lover's nickname, eyes filling with tears. With hesitant steps, she closed the gap between them. Soft hands cradled the blonde's face the second she was close enough. “I've missed you so much.” Her lips brushed against a tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you, for coming back to me.”

Gently taking a bandaged hand in her left, Alexandra carefully lowered their limbs. Her wife appeared tough on the outside and would never admit to anyone how much pain she truly was in. But brown eyes saw right through the facade. It had been those very same eyes that had torn down Natasha's walls, stone for stone, when they had started dating all those years ago. A mellow light radiated from her, encasing both women in the warmest, white gleam. Her powers searched for every single one of Nat’s injuries, healing them one after the other. “I will always come back to you, моя любовь. Always”, she promised.

Just as she leaned in for a kiss, Natasha saw the two people outside of the room move slightly – of course her trained senses had picked up on their presence earlier, but she had chosen to ignore them. “FRIDAY? Please close the blinds”, she asked the Artificial Intelligence in her sweetest voice. A swoosh sounded through the room as the shades dropped from the ceiling almost all the way down to the floor, effectively blocking every curious onlooker. “Now we are alone.” Her voice was husky now, even lower than the usual rasp that was just so distinctively hers. “You didn't notice?”

Alexandra shook her head. “I was watching you.” Pale cheeks blushed a dark shade of red when their lips were mere millimeters apart, their foreheads touching. She chuckled. “Even when my brain was all chaotic and weird, I could not stop looking at you.” Nudging her partner's nose with her own, she inhaled Natasha's perfume. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

The motion was barely visible as the red-haired woman shook her head. “It doesn't matter”, she whispered softly, stroking a few loose curls out of Alexandra's face and behind her ear. “What matters is that you remember now.” Finally pressing her lips against her wife's, she was immediately engulfed by the familiar warmth and love she had for the other woman. God, how much she had missed her.

Pale hands rested on either side of a slender hip, thumbs stroking the bone over the soft material of the dancer's outfit. The cutest little moans escaped her throat. This was what coming home felt like. Natasha was home. One of her hands slid lower, fingers fanning out over a firm bottom cheek as she smiled into the kiss. Tears of happiness ran down her cheeks.

“Don't cry, Милый”, Natasha whispered, wiping her lover's tears away with a gentle brush of her knuckles. “Please, don't cry.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, the blonde reconnected their lips. A dire need to be as close as possible to her wife was all she experienced in this moment. “Happy tears”, Alexandra assured between kisses, pulling the assassin even closer into her body. She relished in these moments, remembering how the redhead never let her guard down around anybody but her. It made every moment of intimacy even more special. “I love you.”

Her wife's breathless confession caused her heart to pound even faster in her chest. “I love you, too.” Strong hands moved to her lover's behind, cupping a cheek in each of them to hoist her up. She felt legs wrap around her waist as a squeal left Alexandra's mouth, followed by the most precious giggles. Natasha had to crane her neck now, due to the change in height, but it had always been one of her favorite things to do. “I love you so much.” A couple of quick steps later, a slim back collided with the wall behind the piano.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues danced to an unsung melody. Their hearts beat in sync, wanton lust overtaking both women. It took all of her willpower, but when she felt full lips suck on her neck, Alexandra let out a frustrated groan. She knew she had to put a stop to this for now. “I think we have a more suitable... room for this, Natalia”, she moaned, her voice dripping with desire. “Our room.”

Natasha hated to admit it, but her wife had a point. Their reconnecting deserved more than a quickie in the newly appointed music room. She pressed their lips together in one last heated kiss before carefully lowering the blonde back onto her feet. Both inhaled deeply to regain some composure and smoothed over their clothes. “Ready?”, she asked, reaching out her hand for Alexandra to take, her other one holding her sneakers and sweater that she had picked off the floor.

Fingers intertwined, they exited the room with mischievous grins tugging on their lips as they walked past Wanda and Steve who were engaged in a conversation in the middle of the hallway. But the couple did not pay any attention to them anyway, too absorbed in each other's presence. Throughout the entire way to their room, neither spoke a word. Yet, the silence was not uncomfortable.

“Everything is still as I remember it”, Alexandra spoke when she entered their suite and took a look around. “Even my slippers are still where I kicked them off before we had to rush into the mission.” Her leather jacket – a birthday gift from a time when they were engaged – was still draped over one of the chairs. She smiled lovingly at Natasha when she noticed another detail. “I see you've been sleeping in my shirts.” She was not mad about this; she could never be mad about this. Because if the roles had been reversed, the blonde would have done the exact same thing.

Natasha blushed lightly, shutting the door behind them and locking it with a twist. “They kept me sane”, she explained. “Some of them still smelled like you.” And if they did not, she always imagined her wife's unique scent on them. Coming up behind the blonde, the dancer looped her arms around a slim waist. “You are what keeps me grounded, but you were not with me. So this was the next best thing.” The truth was, nothing could ever compare to the real thing. She tightened her embrace. Delicate fingers moved a honey-blonde braid out of the way before soft lips began to caress the back of a creamy neck.

Turning in her wife's arms and instantly missing the touch against her skin, Alexandra nuzzled her nose against her lover's cheek. Her fingers found their way to the hair tie, pulling lightly so red curls could fall onto almost bare shoulders. “I missed the feeling of your hair between my fingers”, she breathed, burying her hands in silken tresses as she claimed crimson lips in a fierce kiss.

[velvetdestroya]

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass. I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended. I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure- I made coffee. As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day. As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows. Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions. Smack. Smack. Smack! I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap. We cheered. I was no longer sad. I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would. It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth. I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death. The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you. So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty. Love. This was always my intent. My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013 We were spectacular. Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation. There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital- And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us- Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope. Fatalism. That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception. Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point. No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit. To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll. I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough). I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason- When it’s time, we stop. It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway. You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music. Now- There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor. There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets… I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy. We get the cue to hit the stage. The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong. I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade. All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say. What it said is between me and the voice. I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage. Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own. There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims- That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned? With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes. And another opens- This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle. A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device. He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it- “This amp talks.” he said. I smiled. We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home. When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles. I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton. He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say. In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you. I feel Love. I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with- Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod. Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing- My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you. I always knew that, and I think you did too. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. Love, Gerard

(Source Rock Sound March 25, 2013) [photo credit; ashley bird]

[immortalcoelacanth]

HLVRAI Oneshot: Blankets and Burritos

I am weak, I crave gay fluff and family fluff...

Word count: 3428

Summary: Sometimes, Benrey has nightmares. It's a good thing Joshua has a plan to help out!

Gordon had long since accepted that Benrey was a naturally disruptive being. Between how absolutely chaotic he could be at times to his naturally blunt and occasionally abrasive attitude, the second he had moved in Gordon knew that his home would never be peaceful again. 

Granted, he had been surprised when Benrey began showing restraint when interacting with people, especially Joshua as the last thing he wanted was to upset the young boy. His jokes also lacked the more intimidating edge they held while they were in Black Mesa. Overall, his more destructive qualities had been toned down and he seemed to be far more at peace than the last time Gordon had seen the ex-guard. 

It was… nice, and while he had been hesitant at first to welcome Benrey into his home, he did not find himself regretting that decision. 

This did not mean that things were perfectly fine, of course. 

Benrey was… not the best at acting human, and it showed. There had already been several instances of Gordon getting up for a midnight snack and seeing at least two glowing eyes staring down at him from the ceiling. 

Absolutely horrifying. 

Plus, he had been forced to give Benrey a crash course on how humans acted and that no, he could not try and swallow the milk carton whole and please don’t walk up the side of a building and lean into a window to ask someone to play Smash Bros with you. 

Y’know, pretty simple things. Things that honestly would have made Gordon’s life a living hell if it was not for how accepting and understanding his neighbors were. 

Marguerite, a lovely, partially deaf old lady, had been especially happy to learn that Benrey had moved in with him, although Gordon was pretty sure that this was simply because she thought they were dating. She had been a huge source of help after his divorce, especially during some rather rough days. 

She had constantly pushed him to find something, or someone, that he could be happy with. Whether that was a hobby or a partner. 

He would never forget how scandalized he had felt when she first visited and saw Benrey. How she had looked the ex-guard up and down before turning to Gordon and winking at him. Her words forever burned into his mind. 

“This one will keep you busy, hands and mind.”

It had been one of the few times he had heard Benrey genuinely laugh, too. A loud, somewhat wheezing noise that made him curl up in a ball as he tried to control his laughter. It sounded nice and was something he wanted to hear more often.

And then... there were the nightmares. 

Moments where Benny's joy was smothered by something else, something he never expressed a desire to discuss. Gordon honestly had no clue what their source might be, whether caused some traumatic moment in Benrey’s past, or even the final fight between them, but whatever it was it could get bad.

Fortunately, these instances of nightmares were fairly quiet with Joshua never having woken up during them. Less fortunately, Gordon tended to be the one being startled awake since the ex-guard often slipped into his bed after he went to sleep, not that he cared all that much. In the beginning it had been a bit annoying to wake up and find Benrey downright spooning him, getting all into his personal space, and it had been a source of combat for several days until he and Benrey managed to sort things out. 

… Not that there was much of a conversation or anything like that. It was more so him listening to Benrey quietly insisting that he “needed someone”, and the gamer body pillow he purchased after that conversation had not helped in this regard. 

He loathed to think about it now, the wide eyes and flirtatious pose. Every so often it would move locations, going from being stuffed away in a closet to ominously being attached to the back of a door, and he was fairly certain Benrey was the one responsible for such a thing. 

Especially since Joshua claimed to have never seen it before, and he knew for a fact that the ex-guard was diligent in preventing Joshua from being exposed to more… mature jokes. 

Anyways, with Benrey continuing to seek out Gordon as a cuddle buddy and Gordon accepting his fate, and enjoying it, a solution to the nightmare problem still needed to be found. Aside from the growling, hissing, thrashing, and mutterings in some other language, Gordon had also nearly been crushed at one point after Benrey had, without warning, grown larger at some point during the night. 

He was thankful that the bed had not broken due to the sudden increase in weight. 

Currently, the physicist was seated in the living room, trying to put together some sort of solution that might help Benrey. Notepad in hand as he absent-mindedly chewed at the end of his pencil, thankfully lacking an eraser, he wrote down all the methods he had tried so far and what he might try next. 

Lists had always helped him keep his thoughts organized, and this was especially helpful given the mild chaos going on beside him. 

Otherwise known as Joshua and Benrey playing a racing game. 

Naturally, Joshua was currently speeding ahead of the ex-guard, throwing the occasional item back in an attempt to increase the distance between them. Unfortunately, with some quick maneuvers and calculated tricks, Benrey was able to dodge the attacks. 

“vroom, vroom, better watch out.”

“Nooooo!” 

“beep, beep!” 

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

“you... you gotta go fast little dude, it’s the only way.”

“I am!” 

“gotta go faster.” 

“Faster?”

“faster, faster!” 

Gordon chuckled to himself as he listened to the pair break out in song, reciting the lyrics to some cartoon that they both watched. Saturday mornings were Benrey and Joshua’s designated bonding time as Benrey “educated josh bro on some pro gamer cartoons.”

As the race reached its conclusion, Joshua winning overall, the young boy carefully placed his controller down and then scrambled over to his father. He flung himself onto the sofa and leaned against Gordon’s side. Wide, eager eyes took in the notes. 

“Is this some work stuff?” Joshua asked, his eyes lighting up upon seeing the mention of blankets and pillows. “Are you guys gonna have a sleepover?! I can show you how to make an awesome pillow fort!”

“naaaaah,” Benrey casually slid into the conversation, both literally and figuratively. He perched on the armrest of the sofa, a smug grin on his face as he poked at the notepad. “he-he’s just writing ‘bout his crush.”

“Ooooh, so he’s writing about you?” 

“ya.” 

Gordon snorted and lightly thwacked one of Benrey’s fingers with the pencil, causing the ex-guard to let out a yelp before nursing the wounded digit. The exaggerated pout on his face made the physicist chuckle. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me that hurt you-”

“You gotta kiss it better, dad!” Joshua interrupted, placing his hands on Gordon’s leg and pushing himself up into his father’s face, eyes wide and pleading. “Like you did when I hurt my arm! Kisses make everything better!”

“yeah, feeman you-you gotta give me a biiiiiig old smoocher.” The smug grin had returned to Benrey’s face, and it grew wider at the exasperated look Gordon sent towards him. “it’s... it’s a joshie law, feetman, you gotta.”

After rolling his eyes, Gordon ultimately relented. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against Benrey’s wounded finger. Despite how smug he had been about the entire situation, there was no denying the heat that took over his face. 

Was Benrey flustered? Yes, but he would never admit to it!

“u-uh…. nice smooch there, feetman. g-gotta give it a perfect score.”

Joshua giggled at the look on Benrey’s face, from the happy smile to the warm glow in his eyes, it was good to see the ex-guard so happy. When Benrey was happy, his dad was happy, and that made him happy! It was perfect!

However, speaking of his dad…

“So, what’s those notes for, then?” He asked, poking at the notes once again. “Benrey’s definitely wrong-”

“owie, ouch, your-your words hurt my bones, little joshie dude.”

The young boy stuck his tongue out at Benrey before he focused on his father and continued speaking. “Is it for work stuff? Or something else?”

It was impossible to miss the look the two adults exchanged upon hearing Joshua’s question, and it made him suspicious. Was this some adult thing he was not supposed to know? Oh, like that thing his classmate Danielle had mentioned-

“Erm, Benrey has been having some trouble sleeping at night and I’m trying to figure out how to help him.” Gordon explained, snapping Joshua out of his thoughts. “These are just some of the ideas I had that might help him relax.”

Joshua blinked, understanding what his father was saying but also wanting confirmation from Benrey. “So, you have nightmares and stuff?”

“uh... yeah.” The ex-guard shrugged as his hands twitched and knit themselves together, an expression of the general anxiety he felt towards the situation. Talking about himself, something he was always uncomfortable with despite the problems it caused. “like... i got some rank e dreams, little bro. i... i keep getting t-posed on and… stuff.”

“Oh!” Joshua lightly clapped his hands together, an idea immediately coming to mind on what he could do to help. “Stay right here, I’ll be back!”

As the young boy rushed to his room, Gordon and Benrey exchanged a confused look. 

“you... you, uh, know what joshie’s doing?”

“Nope, no idea.” Gordon shrugged before sending a smile Benrey’s way. “It’s nice to see him helping us out with this.”

Benrey looked down towards the ground, casting more of his face and the associated blush in shadows. “yeah. h-he’s a good kiddo, feetman.” 

“Damn right he is.”

Not long after this short conversation reached its conclusion, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard and Joshua rushed back into the room with something rather large and bulky held in his arms, the ends of it dragging across the ground. 

It was his blanket, his weighted blanket to be specific. 

From a young age, Joshua had suffered through many bouts of nightmares and periods where he struggled to feel comfortable when going to sleep. This ultimately culminated in both his parents, who had been separated at this point, agreeing to take him to a sleep therapist and figure out what they could do to help. One of the methods they had been recommended to try was getting Joshua to use a weighted blanket to help him feel more secure and relaxed. 

While not solving all of his problems, he still occasionally visited the same therapist when dealing with a particularly bad bout of nightmares, the blanket, and the other coping methods he had been taught, had certainly helped. 

But the blanket continued to remain his primary source of comfort and seeing Joshua rush over to Benrey and hold the blanket out for the ex-guard to take made Gordon’s heart feel like mush. 

It was such a wholesome sight, and even if Benrey did not know the details behind why Joshua had this blanket, he was honored to see that Joshua wanted to use something of his to try and help. 

“awwww, little dude, you didn’t have to get this for me.” Benrey said, voice strangely soft and quiet. “you-you really didn’t need to.”

Joshua swiftly shook his head and once again thrust the blanket towards him. “This helped me a bunch, and now I want it to help you! Try it!” 

After sending an uncertain glance Gordon’s way, and being met with a reassuring thumbs up, he reached out and carefully took the blanket. He studied it for a moment, unaware of Joshua rocking back and forth in front of him and rubbed the material between his fingers. 

It felt… nice. Soft, but not too soft. 

The blanket was quickly wrapped around Benrey, and the ex-guard closed his eyes for a moment as he took in the sensation. It felt… comfortable. The added pressure of the blanket as it was draped across his shoulders did help him feel a bit more relaxed, reminding him of that.

That which he would never speak of. Old memories and forgotten places, a history that he never wanted to come to light, a name before Benrey. 

He quite liked the name Benrey, anyways. 

“Oh, oh dad!” Joshua suddenly shouted as he turned to look at his father, eyes shining with excitement. “How about you make a Benrrito!”

“... a wha?”

“Y’know!” Joshua spun to face Benrey as he made a rolling motion with his hands. “Burritoing! Dad does it to me a bunch!” 

Upon seeing the somewhat panicked look on Benrey’s face, Gordon quickly stepped in. He stood up, the action helping to calm the other two down, and gestured towards the floor. 

“If you wanna try it, we’re gonna need space.”

“you... you coming on to me, feetman?”

“NO, I AM NOT!”

Joshua giggled at the banter, not quite getting it but happy to see that his father had managed to get Benrey to relax a bit. He watched as the blanket was spread on the ground, patted out so there were no wrinkles before Benrey laid down on top of it. 

… Actually, Benrey looked a bit smaller than he normally did! Joshua knew most people would find such a thing strange, but he had long since gotten used to the occasional shape shifting that the ex-guard tended to do. 

Be it helping him reach food that was too high on the shelves or giving him piggyback rides, Joshua instinctively associated Benrey’s shape shifting with fun, unlike his father. 

Perhaps it was quite fortunate that Gordon was unaware of the shenanigans that these two sometimes got into. 

Regardless, as soon as Benrey was set up and ready to go, Gordon got to work. He flipped the edge of the blanket, so it was covering Benrey, and slowly started to roll the other man up. As he was turned over and over, the ex-guard’s smile began to grow larger and larger. 

Oh yes, he could just feel the potential chaotic energy. 

Once the burritoing process was complete, Gordon stepped back to admire his handiwork. At this point, only Benrey’s head and feet were sticking out of the burrito, and the constant glowing of his eyes seemed a bit duller than usual. A stream of pink to red sweet voice floated into the air. 

Joshua giggled and immediately started playing with the bubbles while Gordon lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “What’s that mean?”

“bbbbbbbb,” The string of noises made Gordon smile as he patiently waited for Benrey’s response.

“pink’n red means… i’m gonna bed.” Benrey yawned. Okay, chaotic energy replaced by exhaustion, which was… strange to say the least. 

And clearly Gordon agreed with that thought as his brow lifted higher in surprise. “Really? A burrito did you in?”

“ya.” Benrey bluntly replied as he wiggled around a bit, smushing his face into the blanket. “s’nice, cozy… me likey.”

“Operation Benrrito is a success!” Joshua cheered, high-fiving his father in victory. He then let out a sudden gasp and started bouncing in excitement.

“Dad, this means we gotta help him get a blanket! Can we go shopping tomorrow? Please? Pretty please? I can show Benrey all the super cool patterns they have, and the special stuffed animals too!”

Gordon spared a glance at the absolutely blissed out Benrey, who was currently radiating the energies of a content cat going for a nap, before smiling at his son and nodding. “Looks like we’re going to need to.”

“Yay!” Joshua exclaimed and crouched down in front of the ex-guard. “There’s a whole buncha space patterns and stuff like that one! There’s also ones that’re swirls of colours and they look super cool!”

“bbbbbbbbbb.” Benrey grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Alright then, little dude. let’s... let’s goooooooooo.”

And with that, Benrey slowly started inching towards the door as Gordon and Joshua watched on. The young boy took a step forward, thoroughly intending to join him before his dad placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. 

“No way we’re going out now.” He frowned. “It’s busy, and-”

“the karens are out?” Benrey cheekily added. 

“... Yeah, the last thing I want to deal with.” Gordon sighed, placing his face in his hands as he recalled the various interesting encounters he had at that specific mall. It was located in the more affluent section of the neighborhood, and the customers tended to reflect that. 

Ugh, with his luck he would probably end up running into her there-

“Joshie, I know you’re excited, so we’ll go tomorrow as soon as the store opens.” He exhaled as he lifted his face out of his hands and opened his eyes. To his surprise, Joshua did not seem disappointed in the slightest despite how enthusiastic he had been earlier. 

Granted, it definitely helped that Joshua had been the one to suggest going shopping tomorrow. It was not unusual for his father to forget minor details after experiencing some stress and recalling those lovely interactions has certainly been stressful. 

But the young boy felt there was no point in mentioning it, so he didn’t. 

“It’s okay, dad!” Joshua chirped. “But you should probably stop Benrey from escaping.”

“Wha?!” Gordon whirled around and noticed that Benrey had continued to inch towards the door and was now pressed up against it. Probably trying to clip through it since his arms were stuck at his sides. 

The physicist sighed once more, this time in annoyance, before striding over to the door and looking down at Benrey. “What’re you doing?”

“uhhhhhhhh.... y-yo mama.”

“I...there’s no words to describe how disappointed I feel, and you can’t go out like that anyways.”

“i’mma worm off the string, man. look at me gooooooo.”

“You’re not a worm! You’re a burrito!” Joshua chimed in, leaning around his father and smiling at Benrey. 

“noooooo, m-my evil plot… has been foiled.” Benrey dramatically, and somewhat lazily, wailed. He started rolling over to emphasize his apparent defeat. “i’m worming, woooooorming.”

At this point, Joshua had broken down into a fit of laughter and even Gordon had a small smile on his face. Deciding to play along with Benrey’s shenanigans, the physicist made his move. 

Now, it goes without saying that Gordon was not a weak man. Even without the added benefits of the HEV suit, he was no stranger to some forms of exercise. 

Primarily lifting Joshua up into the air as his son loved to feel like he was flying. 

In other words, without warning Gordon crouched down and scooped Benrey, in all his burrito’d glory, up. Rather than being slung over his shoulder, as the ex-guard was still heavier than Joshua and the last thing Gordon wanted was to potentially hurt his shoulder or back, he opted for an easier carry. 

Bridal style. 

Of course, he had not completely thought his plan through, so when he suddenly found Benrey’s face very close to his, his response was immediately and instinctive. 

He blushed, badly. 

Upon seeing this blush, and realizing his sudden proximity to Gordon’s face, Benrey smirked and made a move of his own. 

By leaning forward and quickly kissing the tip of Gordon’s nose. 

Needless to say, at this point both men were blushing. 

Joshua could be heard happily clapping his hands together in the background, and it was this noise that snapped Gordon out of his stunned state. He, somewhat awkwardly, shuffled over to the sofa and plopped Benrey down on it. The, still blushing, ex-guard did nothing except try to sink into the blanket burrito further. 

It was obvious he had no intention of being unburrito’d, for now. 

Gordon sighed and looked over at Joshua. “You okay with using your other blanket tonight?”

“The cowboy one?”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm!” The young boy quickly nodded. “Can you wash it first, please? I don’t want it to be smelly and gross.”

“You got it.” Gordon replied with a thumbs up. As he left to go and fix up Joshua’s other blanket, Joshua could be seen joining Benrey on the sofa and huddling beside him, quietly discussing the different kinds of blankets he had seen and how comfy some of them were. It was quite an adorable sight, and one that held potential. 

The potential for Gordon to make two burritos today, that is. 

                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was actually kind of a struggle to finish this oneshot off, it kept getting longer and longer and my muse keeps spitting more ideas at me XD

Also, 10 bonus points to whoever gets the cartoon reference I added in!

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

[hand-in-my-pocket]

“Hand in My Pocket” Lyrics Analysis

“Hand in My Pocket” is amazing for its ability to tell the story of any person’s life within it. If you listen to this song close enough, you can hear every detail of your life coursing through its verses. You see your most painful defeats and your most feverish exaltations somehow perfectly captured by the song. You hear your failures, your addictions, your temptations, your attempts to be a better person, your maturation, and your love for life. Alanis Morissette captured the true essence of life in this song.

Life is so sad and yet so happy. Life is an unimaginable mass of misery: it’s all the war, starvation, loss, alienation, depression, the sum of all of it, over 7 billion people. How can anyone be hopeful in the face of these miseries, especially when everyone knows they have contributed to them? We all make mistakes and we have all made someone else’s life worse, whether intentionally or not. We all make bad decisions, but we all try as best as we can not to. And yet we still find ways to enjoy life and be happy and say “everything is just fine.” Every one of those unimaginable sadnesses has a counterpart in happiness, and there is so much that is equally happy and beautiful that it is simultaneously difficult to imagine how one could not love life.

What jumps out about the verses most prominently is the constant contrast and duality. We will explore each of these in detail, but first let’s look at the chorus, which is where this duality is most fully realized.

And what it all comes down to Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine 'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is givin' a high five

Reserved but resolved. Afraid but brave. Having one hand in your pocket but giving a high five. Keeping one hand in your pocket is a metaphor for many things: reservation, fear, uncertainty, keeping close to yourself, individuality. To live is to know pain, and none of us chose to be born. Everyone is brave simply for living. How can you blame anyone for keeping one hand in their pocket? No one is fully sure of themselves, and everything they do is still with one hand in the pocket. There is no true confidence. Confidence is an act for the outside world to observe, but every mind is muddled with doubts. Our minds stop developing at around the age of 25, but our bodies age continually. Trapped in this arrested development, everyone essentially is living with the mind of a child but the body of an adult. There is a huge disconnect between your outward appearance or image to others and who you know to be to yourself. Everyone is putting on a bit of a show by “giving a high five” to their friends, while still remaining with a “hand in their pocket” to themselves. This high five belies the trepidation and uncertainty we all feel. We are in denial living a life trying to be happy, knowing we are inching closer to death and scared because of it.

So why is “everything gonna be fine”? Well, the hand in the pocket is to be expected, but it is amazing that we still do give high fives. Even though we can view living life as a denial of death, we can alternatively view giving a high five as a leap of faith and an act of love. We cannot live solely as individuals, and there would be no life without community. We can’t live if we have both hands in the pocket, and no one can truly take both hands out of the pocket, so the best we can do is to take one out. To have both hands in your pocket is to die and disintegrate and be absorbed by the Earth. To have both hands out of your pocket is to leave your body and transcend to the heavens. That’s why to be a human is to have one hand in your pocket and the other outside of it. If this doesn’t make sense yet, it will as we go through many examples during  the analysis.

Throughout this entire song, Morissette’s hand is in her pocket, and other hand is always doing other things. Fear and sadness and stability are a constant throughout life; it’s always something that’s there and can’t change. However, because of time’s unstoppable move forward, you are forced to live life, so even though you always have a hand in the pocket, you always have another hand doing different things at different stages in life. And it is inspiring that even though life is sad, we all still somehow push through and live through it and find happiness.

And what it all comes down to Is that everything's gonna be quite alright 'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is flickin' a cigarette

This is similar to the first chorus, but something changed. In the first chorus, “fine” and “five” rhymed (although imperfectly) while in this chorus “alright” and “cigarette” do not rhyme. This is the first sign that something is amiss. Although you might not have noticed, this song actually has a chronological progression. The song tracks the stages of a person’s life from innocence to disappointment to acceptance. In the first chorus, Morissette is still as excited and forward-looking as you would expect any child to be. Although the central message of the song is built into the chorus, Morissette is still confident that everything will be fine. Although Morissette is still maintaining that  things will be alright, there is some doubt communicated by the lack of a rhyme with cigarette.

And what it all comes down to Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet 'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is givin' a peace sign

Now Morissette has changed the message. Instead of saying everything is gonna be fine, she says that she doesn’t have it all figured out yet. Why is this confidence supplanted by doubt? We again see that the chorus doesn’t rhyme. In fact, in a fittingly cruel irony, if Morissette did not change her mind and continued saying that things were gonna be fine, the chorus would have actually rhymed (and perfectly too). Interestingly enough, “yet” actually does rhyme with something we heard before: “cigarette.” In the previous chorus, Morissette was still innocent and excited but began having her doubts when she saw that not everything fit perfectly, and in her attempt to try to rectify the mismatch between “fine” and “cigarette” she changed her worldview from “everything is gonna be fine” to “I haven’t got it all figured out just yet” hoping that now her philosophy would be consistent with her experience. Furthermore, her new worldview that “I haven’t got it all figured out just yet” reflects the fact that the previous lack of rhyme was a signal that she actually doesn’t understand everything yet. Of course, this is all a metaphor for living life, being enthusiastic and having big dreams as a child, thinking that once you become an adult, you will have everything figured out, then growing up and being that adult and seeing you don’t have everything figured out and being afraid that maybe something is wrong with you. Of course, we all later realize that every adult is like this and really no one has it figured out, but that is what the next chorus directly address. This stage of life is the scariest and most difficult though. Your dreams have not been realized and you are not as carefree as you were as a child, and most of all, you are confused because life doesn’t make any sense. And the fact that you are confused is scary because this is your life, your one and only life, the life that you looked forward to as a kid and had so many dreams about, and now it’s yours, it’s in your hands, and you have no idea what to do with it. You are looking for that perfect answer, but you never find it, even though sometimes it feels like it’s barely eluding you (just like Morissette barely missed what would have been the only perfect rhyme in the song: “fine” and “sign”).

It’s also worth noting that “giving a peace sign” is different from giving a high five or flicking a cigarette. It is not just a mundane daily action, but a message of the most naïve optimism. Although this chorus represents what may be the lowest stage in a person’s life, Morissette’s action with her free hand is the most optimistic in the song. Perhaps this is denial, an act of strong outward positivity meant to counteract the inward fear. Or perhaps it is really an optimistic message in and of itself: even at our lowest lows we still hope for progress and we still care for others. It again conjures the central beauty of life: that in the face of so much sadness and disappointment, we can still find ways to love, forgive, and be happy.

And what it all boils down to Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet Well, I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is playin' a piano

After the nadir, we now have the first sign of maturation. Morissette realizes that she is not the only lost soul populating Earth. Just like her, everyone doesn’t have it “figured out.” This realization is simultaneously alarming and relieving. It’s sad that life is just a bunch of people walking around pretending to be important when really everyone is lost and confused and humanity is a befuddled mess. But isn’t it nice to know you’re not alone? We are all in this together, and we can all comfort each other as we confront this truth of our nature. This realization is where the healing process can begin. Life is not what we thought it would be. It’s a mess, but armed with this new understanding that everyone is confused and that life is unfair, we can redefine what we understand about life and we can create new values and outlooks that are healthy and can actually lead us to happiness. This is what Morissette does in the next chorus.

It is also worth noting that the other hand in this chorus is playing a piano. We can assume she also had one hand in the pocket while composing this very song. This is a self-aware nod that Morissette cannot even claim full confidence over this song or any of her artistic work. Even as she spreads her life-affirming message of humility, there is a recognition that this song is no conclusive answer as such a thing can never exist.

And what it all comes down to my friends, yeah Is that everything is just fine, fine, fine 'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is hailin' a taxi cab

To close the song, Morissette settles on “everything is just fine.” This is markedly different from “everything is gonna be just fine.” This outlook is an acceptance that things the way they are right now are good enough, and you don’t need to look towards the future to wait for when things will be fine. As kids, we all make the mistake of pinning our happiness to some conception of the future, and the eventual mismatch of expectation and reality makes us sad. Now after going through the development of hope followed by disappointment, Morissette has learned to accept what she has now because there is always so much to be happy about, even small things, like high fives.

It is worth noting that the last two verses do not rhyme at all. Attempts at rhyming are completely abandoned after Morissette was burned by trying to find some solution to life and failing. But the song is just as beautiful even without the rhymes. This is just like life, still beautiful despite its flaws.

“Hailing a taxi cab” at the end of the song could be interpreted as a metaphor for death, with the taxi cab taking you away from life. The last line before this chorus mentions that she is sick, perhaps meaning the narrator is close to death in the arc of the song.

Now let’s explore the lines of the verses. We have touched on a lot of themes in this opening analysis of the chorus, and all of these will be greatly elaborated upon in the analysis of the verses.

I’m broke, but I’m happy

How can someone be happy even though they are broke? Could it be because your material possessions are somewhat independent from your happiness? That is exactly true, and this song is certainly a rebuke of materialism. Material success (e.g. wealth, fame) is something only the minority of people know. This is by definition as material success is measured relative to others. For example, to be rich is to have more money than most people, meaning most people are not rich. But it’s not true that most people are unhappy. Happiness is not measured relative to others. It is also a well-studied fact of psychology that increasing your wealth past a certain point has no positive long-term effects on happiness. Furthermore, pursuing extrinsic goals (goals that are pursued for their material outcome) are much less likely to make you happy than pursuing an intrinsic goal (a goal that is pursued for the sake of the pursuit, e.g. developing a skill, raising a kid).

I’m poor, but I’m kind

The ability of humans to be kind to each other is one of humanity’s most important and beautiful qualities. Morissette might be poor, and others might be alone, disabled, sick, or anything else, but despite their neediness they can miraculously subvert their Darwinian individualistic instinct by being kind even though they may stand to gain something from being selfish. Why are there people like this? Why is the poor but kind person a stereotype? Why is there the dual stereotype of the rich but coldhearted person? Obviously there are exceptions to both of these stereotypes; they are merely stereotypes after all. There are plenty of great, kind, loving rich people and bad, selfish poor people. However, we know there is on average a difference between the two and this indicates some sort of pressure acting disproportionately on these two groups. One way this discrepancy arises is from the fact that people who are selfish and individualistic are more likely to become rich because they have more ways to become rich since being willing to do something at the expense of someone else gives more opportunities and paths to success for selfish people. It’s not their fault though. We should not be upset at selfish or coldhearted people. We must forgive them. Forgiveness is the central message of this song. Many of these dualities are forgivenesses: “I’m poor, but [I forgive that fact because] I’m kind.” Happiness itself is a forgiveness. To be happy even though life is sad, is to forgive life and to forgive humanity for its faults and still appreciate it for the good it has. The arc of the song even reads like a forgiveness: Life gave me hopes, it thwarted those hopes, but I learned to forgive it and be happy anyway. Selfish people are selfish because they’ve been led that way by life. Selfishness is baked into human DNA. Our brains make us think that success will make us happy. People who are selfish are lost in their own way, and in the fourth chorus, we realize that everyone is lost. Everyone has something wrong with them, and everyone is guilty, but it’s easy to sympathize with them because they were just trying to be happy. Therefore, everyone should ask for forgiveness from everyone, and everyone should forgive everyone.

I’m short, but I’m healthy, yeah

This is still the first verse of the song, or the childhood phase, and being short and healthy is characteristic of children as opposed to being sick, like in the final verse.

The first two lines dealt with one kind of materialism, money, but this line deals with another, appearance. Striving for a good appearance is another way life tricks us by infecting us with expectations that will likely disappoint us in the future. Our biology and society tell us to strive for a good appearance, but this is absurd because no one can actually control their own appearance. Many factors of your appearance are decided by DNA and impossible to change. Obviously there are many things you can do to improve your own appearance like grooming and exercise, but many of the most important factors really do come down to DNA. To use Morissette’s example, you can never change your own height, but this could immediately disqualify you from being a certain level of attractive. It is such a shame then that so many people end up staking happiness on appearance. We must all eventually learn to live with this as Morissette does in the fifth chorus. We must learn to forgive appearance and love life despite it. Ultimately, it’s material and extrinsic, and it’s not what truly makes one happy.

There is something that is closely tied to appearance but actually is a good idea to pursue: health (the subject of the second half of this lyric). Even though living healthy and getting exercise improves your appearance, it has some major differences from appearance. First of all, your health is in your control. There are things about your appearance you can never change, but almost everyone has the capability to drastically influence their health. (Of course, there are exceptions: for example, people with uncontrollable disorders or people who lack access to nutritious food.) The other important difference is that pursuing good health actually has a tangible positive physical effect. Unlike appearance, whose effects on you are ethereal and abstract, good health physically changes your brain chemistry to make you happier. Pursuing health is usually a good intrinsic goal. There’s a lot of parts of our biology that work against us to makes us sad in the long-term, so it only makes sense to leverage the parts of our biology that can make us happy.

It is interesting that there is this fine line between pursuing appearance and health. There are many of these fine lines all over life. For example, most of the Seven Deadly Sins all have counterparts across a thin line like this, e.g. Love / Lust, Sloth / Rest. It’s because all the good is mixed with all of the bad. That’s why many of the lyrics are inseparable opposites. One must always have one hand in their pocket and another outside.

I’m high, but I’m grounded

This can be translated to the Platonistic “I’m celestial, but I’m earthly.”

We are all necessarily grounded on Earth because of its gravitational pull. No matter how high we ever get in life, the gravity of Earth will always pull us down. Earth and life are inherently flawed. We won’t ever find perfect happiness or harmony. Everyone eventually gets to a peak early in life after which they are pulled back down and need to readjust expectations. As discussed with the choruses, it is impossible to take both hands out of your pocket, and it is also impossible to not be grounded. However, the ability to forgive and still be high while grounded is the beauty in life. Even though everything we do may be imperfect and half-hearted with one hand in our pocket, the fact that we still do keep that second hand out of our pocket despite all of the adverse pressures not to is what this song celebrates.

I’m sane, but I’m overwhelmed

This is very similar to the previous line. No matter how sane you are, you still don’t have it figured out just yet, and hence you will be overwhelmed.

An interesting thing to note is that the first three lyrics took the form of “I’m [negative thing], but I’m [positive thing]”; however, the order is reversed in these two lyrics. It turns out that no matter which angle you view it from, you will always find good and bad. Looking at a situation in a positive light, you will always find something bad about it, and vice versa. The good and the bad are inseparable in life, and sometimes it is ambiguous which is which. Furthermore, no matter what worldview you have, there will always be doubts and counterarguments. There is no satisfying answer to life, and there is nothing you could declare without there being a “but” that can follow it. It is inevitable that things will not work out perfectly and there will always be bad with the good, and this song is about acceptance of that fact.

I’m lost, but I’m hopeful, baby

This idea has already been discussed at this point in the analysis. It is explicitly stating some of the subtext of the choruses. To not be lost would be to have both hands out of the pocket while to lose hope would be to have both hands inside the pocket.

I feel drunk, but I’m sober

There are plenty of ways to feel drunk while being sober. Sleep deprivation, for example, can produce many drug-like effects. You could feel drunk any time something is causing your brain to process information differently and change your perceptions. The way you perceive the outside world physically changes during the brain development of the first 25 years of your life, but the transition is gradual because you cannot feel it in the moment. However, if you could skip back to the brain of your adolescent self for a few hours, the effect would be much like that of taking a drug. We also enter a different mode of perception every night through dreaming. The lack of consistency in our perception is part of why empiricist philosophers are so skeptical of the veracity of our perceptions. Two people can view the same thing entirely differently. We even often view the same thing differently from ourselves at a different point in time. In fact, at two different points in time you are effectively two different people. Why do we sometimes dislike a movie, then watch it later and love it? Life events can change your perspective by giving you new experiences. Watching a movie about a family might be an entirely different experience before and after having a kid. Having a kid can completely change the way you see life; it can change your reality. Meanwhile, your having a kid has no effect on others’ realities. Everybody’s reality is constantly in flux, and these realities clash with each other. Part of forgiving others is recognizing that they just have a different reality.

It is harder to tell what is reality when you are drunk. Your memory is bad, your thoughts intermingle with your perceptions and cloud your judgment. But even when you are sober, this is all still true, just to a lesser extent. Humans are notorious for faulty memories, and their thinking can be influenced by the outside world. Priming studies have shown, for example, that levels of selfishness can change among individuals depending on things like which room of the house they are in or which words they have seen recently, for completely subconscious reasons. Your mode of thinking can change just by seeing the word “family” without consciously knowing it. We are all always feeling drunk in a way because in this confusing world with our faulty perceptions, it’s hard to really tell what reality even is.

I’m young, and I’m underpaid

To be underpaid is to be undervalued. Everyone is undervalued by others to some extent. People see flaws in other people and value them less for it. What would it even mean to not be undervalued? To be valued at exactly what you are worth? People don’t have concrete values so this is an absurd proposition. The idea of valuing a person is another human fallacy that causes unhappiness. The idea of giving people concrete values is attractive because it is convenient and easy to understand. Humans make abstractions to simplify our views of the world to make it more digestible. Science is a wonderful example that has made the world feel less like a confusing mess. Tying your own worth to some concrete value, although easy to understand, leaves you susceptible to unhappiness due to mismatched expectations. Wanting a salary above a certain dollar amount or a certain number of followers on social media are easy goals to measure, but not obtaining them will make you unhappy, so you are just giving yourself a way to concretely measure that you are a failure, even though a single number cannot possible capture your worth. Goals are great to set and pursue, but your happiness should be staked on personal development through the pursuit of the goal, not a material end result.

This is the first lyric that uses “and” as its conjunction rather than “but.” As discussed before, the good and the bad are inseparable, so using “and” is just a more direct way of saying what’s been said in the previous lyrics. At this point, there is not much of a distinction.

I'm tired, but I'm working, yeah

This lyric and the previous one paint the image of someone who is still young and optimistic, working hard to achieve their goals. As discussed in our analysis of the choruses, the outlook of this person will be revised as the song progresses.

Doing work makes you tired, and the more tired you are, the less work you can do. Resting makes you less tired, but the more you rest, the less work you do. Finding the right balance between work and rest is a big struggle for humanity. Rest and work are both good, but doing either too much or too little is bad. This is another case in which humans are forced to have one hand in the pocket (rest) and one outside of it (work); however, instead of human nature being the driver of this dynamic, the laws of physics themselves actually make this necessary. It is not only true that humans get tired as they work. This is true of everything in nature; doing work requires energy, and energy is not unlimited. Having one hand in a pocket is not just a feature of humanity but a feature of nature itself.

I care, but I’m restless

To care is to want better, but often anything you do that has a positive effect also has a negative one. You cannot separate the good from the bad, so if you care about the good, you will inevitably be driven restless by trying to shoo away the bad. Pursuing perfection is a game of Whac-A-Mole. Even if you could in theory achieve perfection at some point, this perfection would all be undone by the progress of time which eventually destroys everything. To achieve perfection is to stop time. There is no perfection; it’s a law of nature.

I’m here, but I’m really gone

Who you were when you were a kid is gone; who you were five years ago is gone; who you were a year ago is gone; who you were last month is gone; and who you were a second ago is gone. It’s all gone, lost to the ether. The first time we heard this song, the person who wrote it was already gone. Each life is a beautiful flicker of a firefly in time. As Mark Eitzel writes in “Firefly,” “You're so pretty baby / You're the prettiest thing I know / You're so pretty baby / Where did you go?” All we really ever have is the present moment. Like this moment right now, this moment in which you are reading the ramblings of someone blogging about an Alanis Morissette song. Isn’t there something strange and beautiful about this moment? There will never be another one like it. Time forces one hand out of the pocket. It moves forward whether we consent or not, and it forces us to continue living life. The forward movement of time causes us to be hungry again, to be lonely again, and we have to act to satisfy these desires. There is nothing we can do besides placid acceptance. “Everything is just fine, fine, fine.”

I’m wrong, and I’m sorry, baby

And now we come to what is arguably the most important line of the song. Following the pattern of stating a positive along with a negative, we have “I’m wrong” (a negative) followed by “I’m sorry” (a positive). Humanity can be summed up with this line. Being wrong is universal. Nobody is infallible. In fact, most people are flawed in very conspicuous ways. Can you name anyone who is truly perfect? And if everyone you know is imperfect, then surely you are not the only perfect one, right? No, being wrong and being flawed is nothing to be ashamed of. We are all in this together; everyone is a bad person in a lot of ways. But humanity’s saving grace is that we are trying to be good. Everybody really does try. This lyric can be translated to “I’m bad, and I’m trying to be good.” No individual can escape the gravity of being bad, and this understanding is essentially to maturation. Morissette bravely leads the way by admitting she is wrong to us and asking for forgiveness. The proper response is for us to forgive her, admit that we are wrong too, and ask for forgiveness back. 

The flip side to the fact that everyone is wrong is that everyone has been wronged. Many people are wronged in ways that can never be rectified. How can you forgive someone who has irrevocably wronged you? Only with the recognition that they have been irrevocably wronged as well. And if you still cannot forgive someone, I can forgive you for not being able to. In fact, we are all irrevocably wronged by nature itself. Time dispassionately and irreversibly takes away all of our loved ones from us (if it doesn’t take us first). Yet to not forgive time is madness and denial. Being wronged is nature. To be happy is to be happy despite being wronged. To be happy is to accept and forgive. 

Most of all, people are wronged by themselves.  Everyone thwarts their own potential and wastes parts of their limited life to some extent due to succumbing to temptations, bad judgment, and selfish motivations. We often willingly and knowingly wrong ourselves on top of everything else. We beat ourselves up over it because it was completely in our control. However, if this is something that happens to everyone, then maybe it’s time to stop thinking we have so much control. Of course, everyone should try to be the best they can, but with the healthy recognition that our brains work against us by design (e.g. catalyzing selfish actions, rewarding addictive behavior). Ultimately, the most important reason that we should, along with Morissette, admit we are wrong is not for others to forgive us, but for us to forgive ourselves. We should try to be as good as we can but understand that we will always be flawed. Learning to forgive others goes hand-in-hand with learning to forgive yourself. Others are a reflection of yourself, and we are all a reflection of human nature, a complex, beautiful, monstrous beast that gives us everything and also takes everything away. Forgive nature, forgive yourself, then be happy.

I’m free, but I’m focused

With the knowledge that our own natures often work against us, it’s clear to see that freedom is a double-edged sword. To have total freedom is to have freedom to engage in behaviors that destroy us. We are free to become addicted to drugs, sex, video games, gambling; we are free to neglect diet, hygiene, and exercise; we are free to not be productive and instead spend our time watching the same TV show over and over; we are free to isolate ourselves from others; we are free to abandon our families. Freedom affords many great advantages but also greatly widens the window of opportunity for failure. Freedom on its own is meaningless without focus or responsibility. Freedom is a tool that must be properly directed.

I’m green, but I’m wise

A kid can be smart for their age. They’re not really smart, but relative to other kids, they are smart. When we say an adult is smart, there is an implied “for a human” at the end of the statement because, let’s be honest, no one is really actually smart. Morissette says this herself: “No one really has it figured out just yet.” It makes sense for a kid to say “I’m green, but I’m wise for a kid,” and it equally makes sense for an adult to say “I’m green, but I’m wise for a human.” 

It is also worth discussing that many of the descriptors used in this song are relative terms. There is no pure Platonic form of wisdom that we actually have to measure our own wisdom against to know how wise we really are in an absolute sense. When we say someone is wise, of course what we really mean is that they are wiser than the average person. Our idea of wisdom is based on how wise humans are, and what it means to be wise would change if everyone were collectively wiser. This is partly why it is so easy to claim you are two opposite things as Morissette does throughout the track. Since the meanings of these words are relative, their truth is not absolute and depends on what we compare against. Any person can have different levels of intelligence and experience in different areas. You could say “I’m green when it comes to relationships but wise when it comes to self-care” for example. But there is an interesting and universal example. Everyone is wise when it comes to knowing themselves and green when it comes to knowing others. Everyone has the utmost experience with being themselves and no experience with being a different person. To really understand what it means to be human is to sum the experience of every person and abstract out what is universal among them. However, the only lived experience anyone ever has is their own. Therefore, no individual can ever really know human nature. Every living person holds a different piece of the puzzle, and interchange is not physically possible.

I’m hard, but I’m friendly, baby

We all would love to be as friendly and open as possible, and let as many people into our lives as we can, but as we’ve already discussed, everyone is a bad person in some ways, so if you let yourself be too open to allow anyone in, you risk getting burned by someone’s bad side. Hence, we all have to be hard in some ways. There is also another tradeoff: the more open you are, the more people you become friends with, and the more friends you have, the less time you have to spend with each individual friend, meaning your relationships will be less close on average. Each person falls somewhere on the spectrum between hard and friendly. Your position within this range can influence whether you develop a few close relationships or a lot of less close relationships. Even with each individual friend you have, there is a tradeoff with how close you want to be with them. If you are not very close, you might not know them as well and hence run a higher risk of being burned by them, but since you are not so close, being burned is a lesser breach of trust than with a closer friend. However, a close friend has a lower risk of burning you since you’ve gotten to trust them enough to let them in, but since they are closer, the impact of them burning you is much more destructive. Therefore, keeping a small circle of close friends gives a low risk of a high cost while a large circle of less close friends gives a high risk of a low cost. Because of this dangerous dynamic, each person must selectively be hard to reserve trust and friendly to give trust for each relationship they maintain. To be completely hard would be to close off all contact from humanity, to effectively kill yourself; and to be completely friendly would be to allow yourself to be taken advantage of by anyone, to effectively allow someone else to kill you. A fully friendly figure, a Jesus or a Prince Myshkin, cannot be realized in humanity, as one would need to transcend their nature.

Many things in life are a necessary evil. Any action we take inadvertently introduces some poison into our body. Most of the food we eat is necessary for health, yet introduces trace amounts of what will eventually kill us. Making friends is necessary for mental health, yet also opens us to small poisons that may later kill us. Any action we take may eventually be the reason we die, and ultimately life is the cause of death.

I'm sad, but I'm laughing

Why do sad things sometimes make us laugh? Even though laughing usually makes us feel good, is there any reason why sad things can’t be funny? In fact, no, there isn’t and it is perfectly natural for many sad things to be funny. One of the most common reasons we find something funny is that it is unexpected. There are exceptions to this rule, but usually humans find unexpected things funny. Now, let’s consider what makes us sad. Often, the things that make us sad are also unexpected. Often sadness is the product of a mismatch between expectations and reality, as previously discussed. On the other hand, you are usually happy when reality meets your expectations, which is why we find happy situations funny much less often than sad situations. There is nothing funny or surprising about wanting a job and then getting the job. However, really wanting a job and then not getting it can be surprising and hence funny depending on the situation. Among your sad ruminations, at some point there might appear the self-aware recognition of how sad you are, how absurdly bad this situation is, and how things just did not go at all how you foresaw, and the surprise of it all is a little funny, even if the surprise is a sad one.

The act of being sad but laughing is also a perfectly natural reaction to the world at large. Sometimes there are ways in which the world seems too bad to be true. Sometimes it’s hard to believe how it’s even possible for humanity to have gotten itself into some situations. For example, it’s absurd that we have created weapons with enough force to destroy the world and now they are in control of a few individuals, even though we know all humans are fallible. There’s no kidding it’s sad, but it’s also such a strange, unbelievable situation that it’s also funny.

I'm brave, but I'm chickenshit

In this context, chickenshit means cowardly. But how can someone be brave and the opposite of brave at the same time? Plato observed that people can hold conflicting desires. For example, someone can desire to eat a burger because they are hungry, but simultaneously desire not to eat it because it is unhealthy. It’s not news that our mind has conflicting impulses and identities that lead to indecision or decisions we regret. (Plato separates the soul into three parts; Freud separates the psyche into id, ego, super-ego.) Therefore, we often harbor contradictory desires that not only confuse others but also confuse ourselves. It’s hard to pin down even what your own identity is. We’ve talked a lot about how life is sad, but it is also just confusing. Our decision-making apparatus is convoluted, hard to understand and hard to control, and after we make a decision, the feedback we get from life is often also convoluted and unclear, which prevents us from evaluating whether the decisions we made had a negative or positive effect. Furthermore, since we often harbor contradictory desires, we often voluntarily do things we don’t actually want to do, which is another way our biology works against us.

I believe to live is to be brave. Life is a crucible of pain, and each individual has their own intractably difficult problems to deal with. And then of course to be chickenshit in the face of these intractable problems is only natural.

I'm sick, but I'm pretty, baby

Everything is sick but pretty. Because of time, everything is temporary and constantly progressing closer to its end. Any time we witness beauty, whether it’s a person, a piece of art, or a flower, we were lucky because we caught that beauty in a moment when it still existed, a moment that was immediately lost to the ether. Every beauty we know will perish. Each person, intricately and uniquely developed after decades of life, eventually disappears completely. Ultimately, we are all sick but pretty. This fact is sad but happy. We can choose to be sad that one day we will die, or we can accept this fact and be happy that each passing moment is beautiful.