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stupendouspeanutstarlight · 6 months ago

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An Angry Past - Pt. 1

This story starts around the time of the civil war and the reader is Jasper hales sister. It is up to you if it's biological, and anything to do with the appearance of the reader. I am writing with the idea of an afab character. I was inspired by the legend of the third wife so there is going to be aspects of that, but also my own creative liberties will be taken in this story. It is an eventual Paul Lahote story - that will become apparent in the next part. There is explicit content in this chapter, but nothing overly raunchy. Never written any smut scenes before, so let me know any comments or anything. I hope you enjoy the chapter and I hope to write more!

Jasper wasn’t himself after the war started; he became obsessed with enlisting and you couldn’t change his mind. Grabbing Jasper's arm you pleaded with him to think his options through, “Jasper, please. You can come live on the reserve with Aki and I.”

Sighing he grabbed your hands and looked you in the eyes, his tone stern, “Y/N you’re only seventeen and with a baby on the way, the both of you can barely get on by yourselves in the tribe. I want to serve my country and I’ll be sure to send you some money back. I love you.”

Waving goodbye to Jasper was the one hardest things you’ve ever had to do. He hung out of the side of that damn red train as long as he could; Jasper waved and waved until he was just a tiny spec on the horizon. Your husband held you as you sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder as the train pulled out of the station and Jasper was off to war; he was too young, too innocent, but you knew no matter how much you begged he wouldn’t sit by. The colour red would never again be the same; it was the symbol of the thing that took your brother from you, the train, the rivers of blood in war. Before Aki had met you, Jasper was the only person in your life, the best big brother you could ask for.

Months later Aki had helped you through a long and nearly fatal labour; you managed to give birth to a beautiful boy, Zachary Quileute. You were Taha Aki’s third wife, at only the age of eighteen he had lost his first two to disease and childbirth. As the war continued to wage on though, tensions among tribe members grew and Aki seemed irrationally irritable. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, you tried to get him to make eye contact. “Love, what’s the matter?” His body remained what felt like a permanent stiff beneath your hands. His warmth radiating into your fingers in a way you never felt before, “Are you sick? You're hot to the touch and you disappear at all hours of the night.” He still remained a solid wall at your questions, the only semblance of hope you could feel in your heart was the fact he had not moved from your touch as he had done often of late. Voice breaking you asked, and hand retreating to your side, “Is there someone else?”

That is when you felt his shoulders deflate, a sniffle, and his voice crack as he turned to face you, “No my Love. I could never have another. I thought I would never be happy again until you entered my life.” He reached up to cradle your face in his palms, the feeling making you melt. “I am not sick, but I have changed my Love. With the war ongoing it has caused some new ruthless settlers to be at our borders.” Bringing your forehead to his lips, Aki released a deep sigh against your skin, “My Love, with Zach’s birth you have been exhausted and I did not want to burden you with information you were not ready to hear.” Feeling you deflate in sorrow against him, Aki quickly continued, “It is by no fault of your own dear. It is simply something I didn’t think I would ever have to discuss with you. Do you remember the legends of our tribe? The ones you hear at the grand fires we hold?”

Nodding you speak, “There are many legends of the tribe and I am learning everyday, so that I may help tell them to Zach. But my Love, I don’t know what that has to do with you changing and new settlers at our borders. We have always had the town nearby and settlers moving around.”

“Our legends are all rooted in truth, some more than others. Settlers are something we have always had to be wary of ; you remember how it was when I first brought you into our tribe. You are different though Love, these settlers are something from legend. The reason I have changed dear is not something I wanted to burden you with, but I realise it’s pushing you away.” Pulling away from your head, Aki kisses you deeply and then takes you into his arms. In the safety of your hut, you both gaze at your beautiful son - already nearly one year old - sleeping soundly in a pile of pelts. “You and Zach are the most important things in my life, I only wish to protect you.”

“Taha Aki, you protect and love the entire tribe and our family. I know you care so deeply and have lots on your mind trying to learn the ways to one day take your fathers role as elder, but I only wish to understand, so that I may help you.”

“Do you remember the legend of the cold ones?” As you nod your head against his chest he continues, “The cold ones are real and they cause a change in some of us of Quileute blood. I have had two wives before you, my Love, but that was some time ago. I have not lost them in recent years, but decades ago. I did not age past sixteen until around four years ago. If I had to guess, I have been on this Earth for quite some time.” Pulling back to look at your face, Aki could see the disbelief and confusion on your face. You were wrestling with an internal battle. “I know it is hard to believe having not grown up as a part of the tribe, but the man who I call my father is my elder brother. I have wanted to explain all of this to you, but when we met I had begun to age and selfishly thought we might be able to grow old together.”

Tears broke your water line and you sat there in confusion, “Why can you not age my Love? What allows those around you to grow old and live, but you remain frozen in time?” Lifting you both off the ground, Aki leads you outside. He takes his clothes off his body and changes. Before you in place of your husband is a great white wolf. His fur is the purest of whites like the moon. Walking closer you allow the wolf to nuzzle into your side, “beautiful.”

Years had passed since you had learned of your husband's nature, he aged gradually, but he had never halted again like he had before. The threat of the cold ones had seemingly passed and your family was happy. Your son, now three years old, was curious and adventurous. He asked frequently of his uncle Jasper who occasionally sent letters, but no one had heard from in months. It was impossible to investigate on account of not ever knowing where he was stationed, but you hadn’t received that fateful letter in the mail of his death. The tribe had its struggles with the ongoing war and many disputes with settlers nearby, but it was seeming to be coming to an end.

Two large hands grabbed at your hips and twirled you up into the air. Squealing, you kicked your legs happily at the sudden movement and laughed as your husband spun you in the air. You were placed on the ground and spun around into a deep kiss. In the middle of your settlement you embraced your husband and kissed him passionately. The hunter had just returned from a long hunting trip and many couples and families were happily reuniting. Holding your face and smiling down at you, Aki asks, “Where is my little wolf pup hiding?”

A small and faint giggle was heard a couple feet away. Hiding behind a wagon wheel stood a small little boy giggling watching his parents. Looking around aimlessly, you pretended to not see little Zach, “Oh dear! I don’t know where he went!” Walking around slowly checking behind people, “He’s not behind Leah!” Checking behind teepees, “He’s not around here! Where oh where could Zach be?”

As Zach was distracted watching you look around for him aimlessly, Aki was sneaking up behind him slowly and quietly. Trying not to look or give your husband away, you had to hide your giggles with your hand. That’s when Aki got distracted and stepped on a particularly loud twig causing it to snap. Jumping in fright Zach spun around to face his father yelping, “Ah!” Zach took off running, he dived under stationary wagons and tumbled around people as his dad raced behind him, “Mama! Mama! Save me! He’s right behind me!” Darting in your direction you swooped zach up right before Aki could get to him.

Collapsing in front of your feet, Aki dramatically held his chest, “You're lucky your Mama was there little pup, I was just about to scoop you up.”

Giggling in your arms Zach stuck his little tongue out at his father, “Mama will always get me first! She’s the strongest!”

“I will always save you from getting eaten up my little pup!” Kissing your son all over you giggle, “But that doesn’t save you from the tickle monster!”

In the evening when everyone had finished preparing and storing the meat from the hunt, Aki and you walked down to the River after putting Zach to bed. You walked hand in hand, the world light and the sky clear. The moon reminded you of the beautiful white fur of Aki’s wolf all those years ago. You both laughed as he playfully bumped into you as you walked closer to the river. Life was calm, you were seeing that Aki was finally able to relax. As you approached the river you had an idea; letting go of Aki’s hand you began stripping to just your undergarments. You ran ahead of Aki and plunged into the ice cold water. Not long after a warm hot body pressed itself against your back. Breathing heavily into your ear Aki whispered, “You don’t know what you do to me my Love. My body reacts to you unlike no other.”

Turning in the cold water to face your husband, your body had never felt so hot and alive. He was sculpted to fit into your hands perfectly; your eyes trailed his body, igniting as you looked down his strong frame all the way to the v-line from his abs down below the water line. A burning deep in your core was driving you crazy. You put one hand at the base of his strong neck and allowed the other to trace down his chest, over his stomach and all the way down to his cock. He shuddered against you, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. His laboured breaths matching your own. His hand came up from his sides to cup your ass, squeezing and groping. The warmth of his palms makes the goosebumps on your exposed skin disappear and your head feels light. Leaning your head back and gripping the base of his neck you guide his mouth to the sensitive spots on your neck. He travels against your skin like an experienced explorer, allowing himself to savour the taste and feel of your skin. Your body alight and electric against his. You gasp as he allows himself to suck at the skin just below your pulse point, “Aki, please baby.”

“What do you need sweetheart? How can I treat you right” Your body shudders against his as his hot breath hits your ear. “Did you miss me while I was away? Miss how I can make you feel?” All you could do was nod against him as your whole body felt like it would melt away. It had been so long since the two of you could be this intimate together. You missed the feeling of his lips on yours, how his hands felt on your body, how good his tongue felt. You were brought back by the feeling of being lifted up and carried over to a patch of grass on the rivers bank. He lays you down gently and begins to leave a trail of kisses from your collarbone all the way to your thighs. He looks up at you with hungry eyes as his hands meet the band of your underwear. “May I?’

Throwing your head back in pleasure at the sight below you, you whisper, “Fuck… Please do Aki.”

Pulling the band of your underwear down slowly with both hands, Aki kisses your legs as he goes painfully slow. All the way from your heat, to your thighs, knees, calves until he reaches your feet. The underwear long forgotten Aki spreads your legs apart and makes his way back up slowly. Shuddering in anticipation you close your eyes. Suddenly you feel him stop, “Open your eyes my love, I want you to watch as I eat you out. I want you to remember what it looks like and feels like to feel so good.” You hold your eyes open as he reaches the top. You have missed how his tongue feels and how his fingers move to expertly move where you need them. Everything is pure ecstasy.

#jasper hale #twilight #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #jasper cullen #vampire reader

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projectfiction · 3 years ago

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Yooooooo, i really love your writings for Watanabe and Kamui 😭❤ May i please ask for Chrome? :') it could be fluff, angst, whatever you have in mind honestly. Thank you and have a nice day/night!

Hello, anon! Thank you for the ask (and kind words)! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this; life's been a bit of a bitch lately (><)

Since you didn't request anything in particular, I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore something I've had in mind for a while.

This is about the concept of grief, the myriad aspects of it, and the ever-changing spectrum of ways it can be experienced. I explored each facet using a colour of the rainbow because I think it's interesting to link something usually associated with happiness to pain. It's an explorative and somewhat introspective piece, and perhaps a little weird, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Take heed, it's a long one (3.8k)!

P.S.: if you don't like it, please feel free to submit another ask! I'm aware I may have taken a bit too much creative liberty with this one haha.

TW: major character death, angst.

Chasing Fire // CHROME

There are colours to grief. Sorrow is red and blue and violet, and everything in between. You can wear it like clothes, watch as it draws the eye and shuts the mouth. You can look through it like glass and see the world unfold. You can paint with it, stories and songs cradled in the empty space between your ribs.

You can breathe it in, but you can’t breathe it out.

Once you invite it in, it never leaves.

R E D | c h a s i n g f i r e

You lay in his arms, a broken doll weeping red. Blood had soaked through your shirt, inking your skin with tattoos of violence. There was so much of it. So thick it was smothering. So dark it was almost black. Chrome bit his lip and put more pressure on your wound. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, to see the pallor of it and know that death was calling. To know that he was the one who’d failed you.

“Stay with me, Commandant,” he said, fighting to keep the panic from his voice. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not asleep,” you slurred. Bloodless lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “Just resting my eyes.” Your breaths were rapid and shallow, in time with a hummingbird pulse that grew fainter by the minute.

“Tell me a story,” he said urgently. “The last book you read?”

Your eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. It took you several long beats to answer. “We don’t have to do this, Chrome.” Your fingers closed around his wrist. “I know.”

He bit back the lies that curled on his tongue. He wanted so much to deny, to look away from the unbearable truth, but he couldn’t lie to you. He never could. He reached out to caress your face, thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek. You exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head weakly. “Not your fault.”

“How can you say that? I promised them I’d bring you home. I was supposed to protect you and--”

You pressed a finger to his lips. Chrome could taste the blood on your skin. “Shhh,” you said with some effort. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.”

“It’s not okay,” he insisted, holding your trembling hand between his own. “None of this is okay.”

“Well… I forgive you anyway.”

Those words shattered something inside him. Like a dam breaking, tears streamed down his face, drawn from some deep well of anguish without end. The pain inside him was a hunger that could not be satisfied, and would not be contained. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t shape the words. Silent screams tore themselves from his throat, taking with them shattered pieces of his inhuman heart. Right then, he wasn’t a Construct; he was just a man with human hurts and human sorrows, mourning the loss of a human life. His grief called forth your own tears. They spilled down your cheeks in a bitter chain. Each staccato breath sent electric pain through your broken body, but you couldn’t stop. There was simply too much. Too much pain, too much regret. Too many things that needed to be said and not enough time to even begin. You could only cry and cry, and hope that Chrome understood.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, head bent against yours. His voice was ragged and raw. “Please stay.”

“I want to,” you breathed against his lips. There were no more tears left in you. No space for grief. Only a dull ache and a growing numbness. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

Chrome could have screamed. He could have ripped the world apart over the injustice of it all. But none of that would save you. He couldn’t kiss you better or change fate or reverse the flow of time. He could only hold you as you slipped from this world, as helpless as sand before the tide.

“I would do anything to fix this,” he said, cradling your head between his hands. Your eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight with pain. “I wish…” He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and tried again. “I wish I could have protected you.”

“What a… simple wish,” you rasped. “Lucky it already came true.”

“What?”

You smiled. Or tried to. It was hard to know what your body was doing anymore. “You protected my mind… My soul. That’s enough.” You swallowed thickly. It was getting harder to breathe. “Is it dark already? I’m so cold.”

Chrome gathered you to him gently. His arms around you were tight, but you hardly felt it. “I’m here,” he said in your ear, again and again. “I’ll always be here.”

Your head rolled back to rest on his shoulder. A chill was spreading through your body, as if ice had replaced the blood in your veins. It was uncomfortable, but you welcomed it. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. “Tell me something nice,” you said, letting your eyes drift shut. “A story… With a happy ending.”

A small sob escaped from Chrome. His breath quivered, dancing over your skin in small puffs of warmth. You wanted to wipe the tears from his face, to comfort him and be comforted in turn. But your body was no longer yours. It danced with death now, and you were simply a spectator in the stalls. You were so tired. You’d fought for so long. All you wanted was to sleep. Here, at the end of it all, you set down your burdens and let yourself rest. I’m listening, Chrome, you thought languidly, as the rhythms of your body slowed.

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Chrome felt like he was breaking apart at the seams, losing the very essence of himself to an uncaring world. All of his fleeting happiness felt so far away, like the remnants of an impossible dream. There was only a brief moment in time that was free of pain, brilliant and blinding like sunlight on waves. A lonely memory of kinder times.

He returned to the landscape of his childhood, and began.

“Once upon a time, there was a prince who wanted for nothing. He had gold and gems and servants to fulfill his every wish. The world was at his fingertips, but he had no friends. He was lonely.” You gave a tiny hum. Chrome continued. “He searched high and low, but nobody cared for his formality and stiffness. They called him a robot, who didn’t know what it meant to be human. Then one day, he met a beautiful girl. She caught his attention immediately.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “She treated the prince like any other person, without fear or judgement. And so she became his first and dearest friend.”

You mumbled something, though he couldn’t make out the words. “The two went on many adventures together, defeating great evils across the lands. Dark beasts and corrupt kings and disease. After their journey closed, the prince found that he’d fallen in love with her. He loved her beauty, her bravery, and her intellect. She was everything he wasn’t and more besides. Their marriage was celebrated across the kingdom. Together, they ruled fairly and--” His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. “And there was no more suffering in their lands. Everyone was happy, but none more so than the king and queen. The end.”

You were silent. Your tortured breaths had faded to pained little gasps like you were choking on air. Your body twitched in his arms, fighting enemies he couldn’t see. Chrome let out a broken sob. “Go then,” he said. “Go if it hurts. Go. I love you.”

That seemed to be the permission you needed. Your body stilled with a final exhale. You were slack and cold against his chest, a dead weight upon his soul. He struggled against the urge to scream. Chrome buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, lavender on blood mixed with a cloying sweetness. “Come back,” he whispered against your skin. “Please come back to me.”

His heart beat steadily in his breast, a perfectly inhuman thing that never wavered. But he could still feel it break.

He wept like his soul was being ripped apart.

Grief is red, roses and thorns all at once. Like chasing fire, I reach for the warmth of memory, but there is only the burn of flame. There is no comfort here, only endless paths of pain.

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O R A N G E | b u r n i n g c o a l s

Hassen sighed. “I understand you’re distressed,” he said. “But I won’t accept your resignation.” He held up a hand before Chrome could object. “People who want to be Constructs are rare. Those who are compatible are even rarer. If you leave, there’s nobody to replace you as leader of Strike Hawk.”

“Kamui or Banji are more than capable,” Chrome countered adamantly. “They’re just as experienced.”

Hassen raised a brow. “Surely I don’t need to tell you experience isn’t the only measure of competence.”

Chrome fell silent. He knew Hassen was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. His spirit was shattered. Picking up the broken pieces was a mountain he didn’t know how to climb. “I don’t know how to go on,” he said finally. “It’s too painful.”

“It’s painful now, but it’ll pass,” Hassen said. His breath hitched. “Trust me.”

Chrome didn’t think he could trust anyone ever again. Himself least of all. He nodded mutely. Hassen seemed satisfied with that. He turned to leave before pausing at the door. “You should attend the funeral,” he said after a moment. “It’ll help.”

Chrome felt like he’d been slapped. “No,” he said immediately. “I doubt Gray Raven wants to see the man who killed their Commandant.”

“They’ve had time to process. And grieve. I think they’ll want to see you.”

He said nothing. He could hardly look at the other man. Hassen sighed. “Just think about it.”

The doors hissed shut behind him.

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He couldn’t go to the funeral. He’d thought about it like Hassen asked, but there would be too much of you there. Too many reminders that you were gone, not even bones left to hold. He didn’t want to hear others talking of your life and glorifying your death. He couldn’t bear to hear of your bravery when all he could see was the fear in your face and the regret in your eyes. He still remembered the tremble in your hands, the way you’d clung to him and wept. Your words rang in his mind. Those words that chased him from day to night, and haunted him in hollow dreams.

I’m scared. I don’t want to die.

Chrome buried his face in his hands. The tears swept over the plains of his soul, trying to ease an unquenchable hellfire. He clenched at the sheets. Tore at his hair. He slammed his fist into the ground until sparks flew from metallic joints.

But there was nothing that could heal the wound within.

Grief is orange. Burning coals simmering under the surface, stirred to flame by the gentlest of reminders. It hides and it sleeps, but it never dies.

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Y E L L O W | s e t t i n g s u n

He stumbled, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt. Vital fluid leaked from a dozen places, but Chrome ignored it. Another swing, another slash. Corrupted hands reached for him like the groping hands of death. Something sharp dug into his shoulder. He grunted and swept his scythe in a blazing arc before yanking the blade from his body. His vision glitched. Warning signals flashed. Vital fluid loss. Stabilisation module damaged. Core processing unit under extreme strain. Chrome swept matted hair from his eyes. He didn’t need to be told his body was failing. He could feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, in the flaring pain that accompanied every movement. The world was dark around the edges.

Is this how you felt, Commandant? Did it hurt like this?

His legs buckled. The ground rose to meet him even as the bright edge of a blade descended on his right. Chrome closed his eyes.

“CAPTAIN!”

The clash of metal on metal was followed by the thunderous crash of something collapsing. Strong hands picked him up as his teammates slung his arms over their shoulders. “It’s not like you to be so reckless,” Kamui said with real fear. “It’s almost like you want to die.”

“I--” He broke off. Did he want to die? He hadn’t tried to defend himself at all. But he could have. He knew he could have.

“Not yet,” Banji said quietly from his other side. “We still need you, Captain.”

Chrome hung his head. Shame and regret warred in his fragile heart. He didn’t know how to feel, but one thing was clear:

It wasn’t yet time. He’d have to keep you waiting a little longer.

Grief is yellow. Soft and gentle, like the afterglow of a setting sun. Even when the flame has gone, it remains. It doesn’t burn anymore, but it haunts me all the same.

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G R E E N | j a d e d e y e s

The days were getting easier. He still felt the loss of you like a missing limb, but your phantom hands no longer suffocated him. Your lips no longer kissed to kill. You’d turned from a vengeful spectre into something softer, a shade that kept him company in the dark. He breathed, it seemed, for the first time in a long time.

Yet his mind still caught at the smallest things. Lovers kissing in the dark. Two hands twined together. Laughter around the corner. He missed the warmth of your touch, soft and tender in a way only humans could truly be. He yearned for the press of your skin against his, intimate and secret in the lonely nights. He wanted to hear your voice and kiss your lips. More than anything, he wanted you beside him. Loving him as you could, the way he loved you.

But there was only a shadow by his side, clinging to him with invisible claws. It held your shape and stole your face, but Chrome knew it for the monster that it was.

“Congratulations,” he said politely, handing a beautifully wrapped present to the bride. “May your love be everlasting.”

The couple beamed at him, radiant in their happiness. Their gratitude was as real as his words were false.

He turned away.

Grief is green. Envious eyes, jealous heart. I thought I was healing, but perhaps I am healing wrong. Who is the man in the mirror?

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B L U E | o c e a n d e p t h s

Chrome, you said. Remember to breathe.

I am breathing, he thought, suddenly aware of the rising bubbles all around him. Big and small, wild and free, running towards the light above. Am I breathing?

You laughed. I’m not sure. I can’t tell.

He purposefully took a large gulp. Air flooded into his lungs despite the sunlit ocean around him. He laughed. That’s strange. Have I turned into a fish?

You’re very much not a fish, you confirmed. He couldn’t see you, but your voice was clear. Everywhere and nowhere all at once, like you were the very water itself.

Where are you? He looked around, but there was only the endless sea. Crystalline waters vast and empty, and so beautifully blue.

You sounded sad. Not with you, though I wish I was.

Then come, Chrome said happily. I’ll pick you up. Just like always.

If only you could. But I think I’m a little too far away.

What do you mean?

You didn’t answer. The ocean was growing dark around him, black ink like oil rising from the depths. Smoky tendrils curled around his legs. He shuddered. Trying to kick them off only seemed to create more. He kicked towards the surface, but the sunlight was gone. The waters were ice against his skin, cold and unwelcoming. A black hand closed around his throat.

Chrome thrashed desperately, but there was no escape. The blackness was complete, like the hand of night had crushed the world in its palm. There was no beginning and no end, no up or down. Only a darkness so deep it consumed all else. Help! Don’t leave!

I can’t stay, you said. Your voice was already fading. Let me go, Chrome.

Wait! He inhaled a lungful of grease. Come back!

But you were gone.

The sea swallowed him whole.

-----------

Chrome woke with a start. The room was still grey; his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the sheets tangled around his feet. There was no black sea after all. Just twisted linen and hopeless dreams.

He rose and got dressed.

Grief is blue. Endless like the ocean and just as deep. Vaster than the sky and just as curious. Always it finds new shapes to take, and new ways to hurt me.

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I N D I G O | s c a r t i s s u e

He’d taken to wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck. Always tucked away so nobody could see. Always there, warm against his artificial heart. He fingered the polished metal. It was a simple band. No diamonds or gold, not that there was any left to be had. But you’d smiled at him all the same, accepting his proposal with a giddy joy that had kindled his own.

Chrome had secretly recorded the moment, intending to play it at your wedding. That was a shattered dream now, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete the data. He watched the clip again, smiling softly at the happy grin on your face. You peppered his face with kisses, arms and legs wrapped around his body. There was no audio, but he could hear every word.

He flicked the video off. Things like this no longer bothered him. Distance and time had dulled the pain and stitched his wound closed. The knife’s edge of memory was almost a comfort now, barely a scratch when it used to be a stab. Still, though he no longer bled, the scars lingered. And they would never let him forget. They would never let him forgive.

No amount of time would ever wipe the stain of your blood from his soul.

Grief is indigo. It’s what emerges at the edge of night, when the heat of day has passed. It’s the scar tissue that remains when the wound has closed. Even when it no longer hurts, I’ll always carry the memory of that pain.

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V I O L E T | u n s e e n s o u l

“If we attack from here, we can catch them in a pincer move,” Chrome said, pointing to the map. “Our chances of success will increase.”

“I agree,” she said, flashing a smile at him. Her hand rested close to his, so close he could feel the heat of her on his skin. “Looks like the majority agree with Chrome.” She nodded. “Great. That’s the plan then. Meeting adjourned.”

Chrome made to leave. “Wait, Captain.”

He turned. She smiled at him, clearing her throat awkwardly as she waited for the others to file out. Someone winked at him as the room emptied. His heart sank.

“So,” she started when it was just the two of them. “You really took charge of that meeting.”

“Just doing my job,” he said lightly. “Can I help you with something else?”

She hesitated before meeting his eyes. They were large and earnest, so like yours. And yet so very different. His heart squeezed painfully. “I was wondering if you’d like to catch up for lunch sometime?” she asked shyly. Her voice was small and uncertain, so different from the proud Commandant of minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I’m unavailable.”

She deflated immediately. “Really? I thought… I was told that you didn’t have anyone at the moment. Is it just me then?”

“It’s not you. It’s...” He trailed off. There really was no way to say it. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Is it… Is it your fiancee? I heard about what happened.”

Chrome said nothing. She studied him and sighed. “It’s been three years since then, hasn’t it? This could be the start of something new.”

He smiled ruefully. “It could,” he admitted, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “But it won’t. I’m sorry.”

-----------

Chrome returned to his room. Your ring gleamed on the table, scuffed and bent after all the battles it’d seen. You’d loved that thing like it wasn’t just a piece of scrap metal. It carried a piece of your soul and would always be beautiful for it. Because it wasn’t just a fragment of you, it was the part of you that had been given to him freely in love and acceptance. And now, it was the only thing left to him. A dead thing that had taken your place in his heart.

He sighed and sat on the bed. His room was the same as ever. The same four walls, the same white sheets. The same desk and lights and air. Only you had changed, leaving your physical body behind for a ghost that haunted him. But even that was gone now. There was only your ring, and the ash of his memories.

Chrome thought back to the woman. He couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was drawn to her, but there was a bigger part of him that couldn’t let you go. The Gray Ravens had gotten a new Commandant two years ago, one they treated with as much respect as they had you. Neither Kamui nor Banji had mentioned your name in years. The world had moved on while you slept.

If he joined them and looked to the future, if he allowed himself to forget… You really would disappear. Just another grave. Just another statistic. He couldn’t bear that. Even if the world forgot, he wouldn’t.

So long as he remembered, some piece of you would remain here, with him.

So long as he remembered, he could pretend that life was still worth living. Because deep down, Chrome knew that while his body still moved and his heart still beat, the pieces of him that made him whole had died with you.

And you would always be gone.

Grief is violet. I can’t always see it, but it’s always there. The hidden seventh, an unseen soul. My love, one day, we’ll meet again. And I’ll tell you a brand new story.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #战双帕弥什 #パニシンググレイレイヴン #pgr chrome #pgr chrome x reader #chrome x reader #pgr x reader #pgr chrome fic #pgr chrome fanfic #pgr reader insert #pgr fic #pgr fanfic #pgr request #anon asks #pgr angst

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crankynewt · 4 years ago

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Back to the Future - Chapter Three

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: As you begin to remember who you and Peter really are, the truth of WestView is revealed as you attempt to break free from the endless mind games.

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Major WandaVision Episode Seven spoilers!

A/N: Here’s the much anticipated continuation of Be Okay and Life Could Be a Dream! I had to take more creative liberties than I had intended since we got so little Peter last episode (which is even more of a crime than that beanie), but I hope you guys enjoy anyways!

The hard ground was cold and damp beneath your cheek. Slowly opening your eyes, darkness was only met with more darkness. After your sight had adjusted to the gloom, you could make out a faint purple glowing coming from the walls. It was almost as if it was omitting from the tangled branches warping across the stone surface.

Pushing yourself off the ground, your bones ached as you used what little energy you had left to sit yourself up. There were no windows in the tiny room and the wooden door across from you was more than likely locked. It’s not like you even had enough power to move over there anyways.

With a sigh, you rubbed your palm against your forehead as you tried to figure out how you’d gotten there. The last thing you remembered was asking Wanda why Peter couldn’t remember you as your real memories came flooding back to your conscious mind.

You didn’t know how long you were falling when you landed on the cold evening grass. There was still just enough adrenaline left in your system for you to immediately jump to your feet, eyes glowing yellow as you raised your fists raised as you took in your surroundings.

You were on the lawn of some mansion, the towering stone structure dimly illuminated by the lights left on in a few of the windows. Your heart raced as you turned around quickly, seeing nothing but hedges and grass on the massive lawn.

Although your mind was still racing, you eventually reached the conclusion that knocking on the door was the best option. With your cape trailing behind you, you strode across the grass and up the driveway as you made your way to the front entrance. Despite how intimidating the massive oak doors would normally have seemed, you bravely reached up to the heavy knocker and slammed it down thrice.

Rather than feeling anxious, you felt annoyed more than anything. Of course Thanos would send you somewhere far away from where you needed to be. You only hoped that this really was Earth and you weren’t stranded on some random planet.

You weren’t sure exactly how long it had been when a timid looking man with glasses finally opened the door.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he took in your super-suited form. A little part of you was almost embarrassed at your appearance, but there were more important things to worry about.

“Yeah, where am I?” You asked, crossing your arms and pursing your lips.

“Uh, Charles Xavier’s School for the Gifted… I’m sorry, who are you?” He replied, opening the door slightly wider as his confusion intensified.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). And where is this school?” You said, pushing the topic even more. “We are on Earth, right?”

“Are we on Earth?! Why wouldn’t you be on Earth? That’s not just something you don’t know.” He retorted, and you could see the veins on his hand growing a startling shade of blue. You decided to ignore it, if this stereotypical scientist guy wanted to fight then you could easily take him out.

“Okay, so the titan behind the attack on New York a couple years ago, Thanos, is trying to gather these things called infinity stones to wipe out half the universe. Some of his goons were just trying to get the time stone from this wizard in New York, and Iron Man, Spider-Man and I wound up having to save him, which led to us winding up on Thanos’ home planet, Titan.” You explained, making gestures with your hands as you spoke. “Long story short we were there fighting and he opened some portal and dropped me through it and now I’m here.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Bye!” He began closing the door in your face until something, or rather someone, stopped him.

“Wait!” A British voice called from inside the school, prompting the glasses-clad man to open the door even wider than before. This new figure was bald and seated in a wheelchair, rolling closer to you with a curious gaze. “They’re not crazy Hank.” He addressed the man, who quickly stepped out of the way so that you could enter the building and closing the door behind you.

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He introduced himself, reaching out to shake your hand with a knowing gaze. “You are a long way from home, aren’t you. The reality you remember is much farther away and about thirty years in the future.”

“Wait, what?! Thanos yeeted me back to the eighties?!” You exclaimed, shock and terror flowing through your veins as a gust of air blew past you.

“What’s a ‘yeeted’?” A new voice asked and you suddenly noticed a silver haired boy leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “Are you some Marty McFly Back to the Future-character or something?”

You glared in response as you felt annoyed with this stranger and his childish antics. This was going to be a long night.

The memory of your first meeting with your beloved Peter was enough motivation for you to push yourself off the ground, wobbling on unsteady legs as you rushed to the door. Wiggling the knob to no avail, you took a few steps back and raised your hand in an attempt to blow it off it’s hinges.

“That’s not going to work, you know.” A familiar voice behind you spoke. Whipping around, you saw Agnes, except now her hair was tangled and her eyes were glowing purple.

“So you’re the one doing this. Not Wanda…” You said, sizing her up as the woman stroked the rabbit in her arms.

“Oh no, Wanda is doing this, but I’m the one behind the wheel.” She bitterly smiled. “Agatha Harkness, dear. You see, I needed a Pietro for Wanda but the real one’s been dead just a little too long. Your ‘Peter’ was the perfect replacement, but unfortunately you tagged along when I ripped him from your reality.”

“Peter and Pietro are completely different, Wanda’s eventually gonna figure that out.” You snapped, growing more and more furious with each syllable passing through her lips.

“Peter’s playing his part like a champ! He won’t be missing you anytime soon.” Each word was nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “But don’t worry about being lonely, you won’t be alone down here much longer.” With a swish and a flick of her fingers, Agnes disappeared into a swirl of purple and Tommy and Billy took her place.

“(Aunt/Uncle) (Y/N)!” They shouted, terrified and immediately running over to where you stood. You met them with open arms, holding the twins close in a hug as you whispered that everything was going to be okay in a failed attempt to comfort them.

“Mom said Pietro isn’t really our uncle… Who is he?” Tommy questioned as you let go of the duo.

“He’s not… His name is Peter, and he’s from another reality. Your Mom’s brother died a long time ago, but Agatha brought him over because technically they are the same person? I think? I’m not sure how it works, but they are both Maximoffs and Peter has a little sister named Wanda, too. It’s complicated, but that witch is controlling him.” You explained, answering questions that you didn’t really understand yourself.

“You’re thinking really loud…” Billy commented, holding his head in his hands as he attempted to block out the noise of your mind rushing a hundred miles an hour.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could talk you felt a gentle tap in your mind. Then another, this prod slightly stronger. And again, the poking becoming quite the nuisance.

“Billy, please don’t try to read my mind.” You said, staring into space as you attempted to keep the child out of your thoughts.

“I’m not.” He replied, dropping his hands to his sides as me met your eyes with a look of confusion.

You matched his puzzlement, the poking continuing and becoming even harder to ignore. Maybe it was a lapse in judgement or your exhaustion catching up to you, but you decided to drop your defences and let this strange presence into your head.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?” A voice in your head asked.

“Charles!”

Taglist:

@cspr-2 @lam-ila @sarcasticbitchs-things @calaryssia @ashleysimmons

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mintaka14 · 4 years ago

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See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Three – Living in a Blur

“No Rose or Juleka today?” Marinette asked as she stepped down into the galley of the Liberty with that effortless grace that Luka was coming to associate with the woman she’d become. She reached up to tuck back a lock of hair that had escaped from the braid over her shoulder, and Luka moved around the tiny kitchen, pulling out mugs, while the kettle whistled loudly in the background.

“No, they had a few things to organise today for the wedding. They said to say hi, though.” He didn’t mention the other things that Rose had had to say, or the broad, suggestive beams she given him before she dragged Juleka away on whatever mission she’d manufactured.

He handed Marinette the tea that he’d just made and shifted towards the couch in the living room, cradling his own coffee. Marinette sank into the armchair across from him. She blew on the mug and closed her eyes to inhale the steam.

“I still can’t quite believe that Juleka and Rose are getting married. It feels like only yesterday we were all in collège.” Marinette smiled, and sighed.

“They’re incredibly lucky to be getting MDC original wedding dresses. That’s one hell of a wedding present you’re giving them.”

“Juleka and Rose are covering the materials I’m just volunteering my time and a bit of sewing.”

Luka’s eyebrow rose sceptically. “One artist to another, I know it’s not ‘just’ anything, Marinette. Your time and skill is a very generous gift, and don’t forget, I’ve seen what you’re putting together for them. Jules and Rose can’t have been straightforward to design for.”

Marinette laughed. “But they’re giving me the chance to have fun,” she insisted. “I spend all day every day dealing with clients with no individuality or imagination, trying to convince them to trust me, so it’s a relief to get a chance to do something interesting for a change, with friends who are happy to indulge me.”

Luka leaned back, all plans to rehearse forgotten, as he watched Marinette talk about the inspiration behind the wedding dresses and the creative possibilities in dressing certain clients, her face lighting up and her hands gesturing animatedly as she grew more impassioned about her theories of clothing as a reflection of self. He followed the movement of her hands and lost himself in the endless blue of her eyes.

“I really need to ask Juleka if she’d be willing to model for me sometime. She’s always so compelling in whatever she wears, and so much fun to design for,” she said eventually. He found her eyeing him speculatively. “I’d love to have the chance to dress you one day.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” he said without thinking.

There was a heartbeat, then Marinette burst out laughing.

“Smooth line, Couffaine. Does that work on all the girls?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He decided to lean into it, and grinned at her. “I’ve only ever tried it on you. Is it working?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “How are you still single?” she asked.

“You’re a hard act to follow,” he said, and Marinette levelled a look at him.

“Luka, I was a fourteen year old clumsy mess who kept on flaking out on our dates. You can’t tell me I’m the gold standard of your relationships.”

Put like that, it was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He’d had relationships, and they were sincere in the moment, but he’d drifted out of them as easily as he’d drifted into them, and they’d left him with little more than fond memories. None of them had left a mark like Marinette had. Over the years, he’d put it down to rose-coloured nostalgia, but then she’d walked into his life again, more Marinette than ever, and he’d fallen harder and faster than he had before.

He looked down at the mug of coffee in his hands.

“How about you? Anyone special in your life these days?” he asked the coffee with casual disinterest. She gave a soft snort.

“Hardly. It’s not like anything’s changed since we were going out.” She seemed to catch herself, and froze as Luka’s head came up to stare at her. “I just… mean, who’s got time for a relationship, right? Life’s too busy.”

“Not since we were going out?” Luka echoed her, frowning. “Marinette, you were fourteen. You haven’t dated anyone since then?”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I dated. It just never lasts long. It’s not that big a deal. And besides,” she muttered, “I’ve learned my lesson, the universe doesn’t want me to have a relationship.”

She put her mug abruptly on the table and stood.

“Weren’t we supposed to be practising?”

Luka got to his feet and reached for his guitar. Clearly this was a line of conversation that Marinette did not want to go down with him, and he dropped the subject to run through the song with her a few times, correcting her gently when her voice faltered.

He had to wonder, though, what the hell was wrong with the men in Marinette’s life that had left her love life such a sore subject?

Luka stopped again to make a suggestion about phrasing and breath control.

“All that time, never even knowing just how blind I’ve been,” Marinette tried again, sounding more confident with the slightly awkward vocal skips this time, and Luka gave her a smile.

“See?” he told her. “Fashion designer to the stars, artist, and now singer. You can add that to your résumé.”

He’d finally coaxed a laugh out of her, and then Marinette’s handbag buzzed. Luka watched the smile drop off her face. Her eyes flicked to the door. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I have… a thing…”

She was gone before he could say anything further. For a moment, Luka sat there with his guitar silent in his lap, frowning thoughtfully. Apparently she was right – not much had changed in the ten years since they’d been kids together. There were still the abrupt excuses, the silences, the sudden disappearances.

Luka plucked out Now she’s here, shining in the starlight, and he considered the empty space where she’d been. He was coming to suspect that whatever had been going on when they were kids, whatever she’d been keeping to herself when she broke it off with him, it was something bigger than he’d imagined.

At that moment, Luka’s own phone chimed with an akuma alert, and the timing of it was jarring. His hand dropped, as it always did, to touch his empty wrist. He looked down at it, his frown growing troubled as a new thought took hold.

He found himself thinking back over the timing of some of those disappearances, and odd excuses, and the times she’d had just a little more knowledge of Ladybug's movements than any random civilian ought to, but it had all sounded so plausible at the time. Seen through this new lens, those moments took on a new significance the more he turned them over in his mind.

Black pigtails, unmistakeable blue eyes. The same damn plain black earrings that Marinette, the consummate fashion designer, was still wearing ten years later.

How had he never put it together before?

Luka was still sitting there, his hands resting on his guitar and his gaze fixed on nothing, when Juleka and Rose came home.

“Where’s Marinette?” Rose asked in obvious disappointment when she took in the quiet room.

“She had to leave,” Luka replied absently.

“Luka! You just let her leave?”

Luka could see the tiny frown that he was feeling reflected in his sister’s face, although he wasn’t sure what had prompted it in Juleka’s case.

“I’m not going to badger her into staying if she needs to go, Rose,” he said mildly.

Rose threw up her hands. “And how is she supposed to know you want her to stay if you don’t tell her? I don’t get why you’re both fighting this so hard. She’s single, you’re single, but both of you are too chicken to make the first move.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Juleka interjected, shooting a dark look at her brother. “Because I remember weeks and weeks of Taylor fucking Swift, and I do not want to go through that again.”

“That was ten years ago! You cannot tell me that there’s not something there!” Rose whirled and stabbed a finger at Luka. “You can’t argue with the Sparkly Sense.”

Luka was only half paying attention to the argument, and responded vaguely, “Marinette has too much going on in her life right now to worry about a relationship with anyone.” Like saving the city, over and over and over again, holy shit, she was Ladybug.

Once seen, it was hard to understand how he could have missed it, and his mind briefly derailed to speculate that it must be some sort of kwami-induced magic that obscured her identity. Given how adamant Ladybug had been back in the day that the secret of the miraculous holders’ identities had to be preserved, and how hard she had worked since then to maintain that secrecy, Luka had a bad feeling about how things would go if he told her that he knew.

He was about to become another crack in her armour, another worry dumped on her already overloaded shoulders. Although, what did he really know, when all was said and done? He had his suspicions, nothing more.

“Hopeless, the both of you,” Rose complained, and glared at Juleka. “Don’t you want your brother to live happily ever after?”

“I don’t want to have to live through weeks of I Almost Do again, because my stupid brother hasn’t got the sense he was born with, and you’re just encouraging him.”

Rose stomped away, muttering things under her breath, but Juleka stayed silent after that. His guitar still in his hand, Luka got to his feet and headed for his bedroom before Rose could come back and start again. He had too much else on his mind to deal with Rose’s matchmaking.

Every time he thought Marinette couldn’t get any more extraordinary, she surprised him all over again, but the music he played softly in the solitude of his room that night ached with all the burdens he’d seen in her eyes.

Some time later, he heard a soft knock on his door and it opened quietly. When he looked up, Juleka was leaning there, her hand on the door handle and a look of equal parts irritation and uneasiness on her face.

“Luka –“

“I’m fine,” he cut her off before she could say what he knew she was going to say. “I know what I’m doing, and it’s all good.”

Juleka’s mouth pinched. “Do you, though? Because from where I’m standing, we’re heading for Taylor territory again.”

Luka didn’t answer, his focus on his hands and the fragments of melody that he’d come to think of as Marinette’s song. Eventually he heard a sigh, and Juleka said, “I love you, you dumbass.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

The door shut behind her, and he was left alone with his thoughts and Marinette’s secrets.

~~~~~

“You’re playing with fire,” warned the voice of responsibility in Marinette’s handbag, and Marinette sighed. She shifted the bulky dress bags in her hands so that she could see the little round face peering up at her.

“It’s just a dress fitting, Tikki. Can’t I even have friends anymore?”

“It’s Luka,” the tiny kwami said primly. “Things never stay just friends with Luka, and I saw the way you’ve been looking at him. Remember what happened the last time you told someone?”

“That was ten years ago, and Luka is not Alya. Don’t you think things have changed a bit since then?”

“It never ends well,” Tikki insisted, and Marinette felt the weight of Ladybug closing in on her all over again. She looked up at the Liberty as she drew closer, and had never felt less free in her life.

“Don’t worry, Luka’s not even going to be there,” she said wearily. “Juleka said he’s got something tonight, so it’ll just be her and Rose there. And anyway, there’s no chance he’d ever be interested in me like that again.” Because if there was a chance, then Marinette would have to walk away now before she could do any more damage, and she’d never get to see Luka again. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“Luka was a wonderful holder for Sass,” Tikki conceded, “but he’s always been a little too perceptive for comfort. If he were to find out…”

“We’re here,” Marinette said, cutting off the rest of Tikki’s dire predictions. The kwami vanished into the depths of her handbag, and Marinette maneouvred the dress bags carefully as she climbed the gangplank onto the boat and called a greeting as she reached the empty deck.

In spite of her mood after Tikki’s lecture, she felt a tiny smile curl her lips as Rose’s answering shriek echoed up from below deck, and she followed the sound down into the depths of the boat.

“Marinette!” Rose scolded reproachfully as Marinette descended carefully into the galley with the two dress bags in her hand and moved through into the living room. “You didn’t even say goodbye last time! We got back and you were just gone.”

Marinette held the dresses clear as Rose engulfed her in a whirlwind hug, and turned to meet Juleka’s more sedate greeting. The dark-haired girl gave her a nod and a quirk of a smile that turned to a frown when Rose gave her girlfriend a smug look.

Rose turned towards the bedrooms, and bellowed, “Luka! Look who’s here!”

“What’s up?” she heard Luka’s voice, and felt her heart stutter. Oh, that wasn’t good. Luka swung around the edge of the door, leaning against the frame behind his sister as he directed a slow, sweet smile at Marinette.

“Hey, you,” he said, and Marinette couldn’t help but smile back at him. Juleka rolled her eyes and slugged her brother in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Juleka!” Rose scolded.

“Weren’t you going out? Rose said you had a thing tonight,” Juleka said, and Luka frowned at her.

“Not for another hour. The band we were going to check out isn’t on til later.”

“Did I say eight?” Rose said innocently to the ceiling. “I meant nine. Oops.”

Marinette found herself standing there awkwardly holding the dress bags, her eyes shifting between the three of them.

“You don’t want to keep the guys waiting if you said you’d be there,” Juleka pushed.

“I only said I might,” Luka said, shooting his sister an annoyed look.

“Besides, he can catch them another time,” Rose insisted, staring at her girlfriend with a pointed message that Juleka ignored for once. “They won’t mind, and Marinette’s here now.”

Luka elbowed Juleka aside none too gently and came into the room. “I’m getting a coffee. Did you want anything, Mari?”

“I’d like a coffee,” Juleka said in a saccharine voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I didn’t ask you, monster child.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Marinette told Luka. “I’m only here to do the final dress fitting.”

“Oh no!” Rose protested. “You have to stay for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you’ve done with the wedding dresses.”

“You haven’t even seen the finished thing yet,” Marinette pointed out, and felt a flush rising at the smile that Luka was giving her.

“We don’t need to see them to know they’re going to be incredible,” he said. “And it wasn’t important. I was only half thinking of going out anyway.”

The noise Juleka made was not polite, and Luka made a rude gesture back without looking at his sister.

“Well,” said Rose brightly. “How about we leave them to it? They’re going to be doing this for a while.”

In Juleka’s bedroom, Marinette didn’t have to ask Rose if she was happy with her wedding dress once she’d settled the clouds of soft pink organza around her and done up the miles of tiny buttons. Rose was making a noise like a tea kettle on the boil that rose to a squeal of happiness as she spun around in front of Juleka’s bedroom mirror. Handbeaded organza flowers spilled down in glittering trails across the skirts as she turned, and Rose raised a hand to touch the flowers that clustered all over her bodice.

“It’s perfect!” she breathed. She made a move as if she was going to throw her arms around Marinette, but Marinette fended her off with a laugh.

“Hug me when we get you out of the dress,” she smiled. “How does it feel? Nothing slipping, or too tight?”

“It’s perfect,” Rose repeated, her voice turning a little wobbly with emotion.

When Marinette finally got Rose to stop twirling around for long enough to take the gown off again, they headed back to the living room to find the Couffaine siblings glaring at each other. Luka looked away as they came in, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and Juleka spun on her heel, stalking towards the bedroom without a word, leaving Marinette to follow.

She carefully removed Juleka’s wedding dress from its hanger while her friend stripped down to her underwear and slipped her formal shoes on, and then Marinette started easing Juleka into the gown.

“Mari, what’s really going on with you and Luka?” Juleka asked, her voice a little muffled by the softly glittering black fabric over her head. Marinette slid the dress down and settled it into place. “I love you, but he’s my brother and I’m worried about him.”

“We’re just friends,” Marinette said, and suppressed a flinch at the words. Juleka rolled her eyes.

“You were never just friends even when you were just friends. And the last time I thought you were just friends it turned out you’d been dating my idiot brother. So excuse me if I’m not buying it.”

Marinette swallowed at that, stung but unable to argue the point.

“Believe me, Juleka, I’m well aware of how badly I fucked up back then, and the last thing I want to do is hurt Luka like that again,” she said, insistent in the face of Juleka’s scepticism.

“You won’t mean to, but Luka gets stupid when you’re involved.”

“That was ten years ago,” Marinette protested.

“That was two minutes ago.”

Juleka’s exasperated words provoked a cold wash of dismay. Juleka had to be mistaken. Luka was long over her, he had to be. Somewhere deep down, though, Marinette felt a tiny fireworks explosion of something that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

“The moment you turn up, he drops everything without a second thought,” Juleka muttered as Marinette eased the hidden zip up. Marinette stepped back, and Juleka turned to face the mirror.

“Wow. Damn, Marinette,” she breathed. She angled herself a little, her eyes still on her reflection in the mirror. “I take it all back. You’re welcome to wreck my dumbass brother, as long as I get to keep this dress.”

Marinette gave a tightlipped little smile, and went back to regarding the gown with a critical eye. There really didn’t seem to be much that needed adjusting. She repositioned the crystal chipped dragon brooch that coiled over Juleka’s hip, where it caught up the fall of the fabric, but it all seemed to be working.

She extracted Juleka from the gown again, and back in the living room Rose was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through something on her phone. Luka had his guitar in his hands again, strumming something with his coffee forgotten on the table beside him. He looked up as Marinette and Juleka came in.

“How’s the dress?” he asked.

“It’s stunning,” Juleka said, and heaved a put-upon sigh. “I can’t stop you from being stupid, but at least you have good taste.”

He gave her a suspicious look, his eyes shifting to Marinette when there was no further explanation forthcoming. “What was that all about?”

Marinette shrugged awkwardly, but fortunately he didn’t press her on it.

“So are we doing Thai or that new Indian place tonight? There’s nothing on the Akuma alert,” Rose said from the couch, “but there is a new theory about who Ladybug is on the conspiracy forums.”

“Aliens, or the Mayor’s secret revenge love child this time?” Juleka asked, dropping onto the couch beside her.

“I miss the Ladyblog,” Rose said, stretching her arms over her head. “Remember that time Alya thought that Chloe was Ladybug?”

Marinette remembered.

On the couch, Juleka laughed. “How is Alya,” she asked, and tilted her head to throw a look at Marinette. “Have you seen her lately?”

Alya again. The universe seemed determined to beat her over the head with her failures. She opened her eyes to find them all watching her, and she gave a strained and unconvincing smile.

“Not recently. I think she’s working in a travel agency now. It’s been a few years, though.”

Nearly six years, to be exact, since she’d last bumped into Alya.

“Jules,” Luka said casually, “how about you and Ro go pick up dinner? Mari and I really should work on the song for the wedding a bit more.”

It was a transparent excuse to shift the subject and give her a bit of space, and she was grateful for it, even if Rose did give Luka a very unsubtle wink that he pretended to not see. Rose and Juleka didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd, but Luka threw her a quick glance as he laughed at something Rose said, and reached out to toss his wallet at Juleka, who pulled a few euros from it and threw it back. Marinette managed to respond lightly enough to a question about her preferences, and by the time it was just her and Luka she’d pulled herself together again.

“I take it that things aren’t good with Alya,” he said gently.

She shrugged, and the smile she gave him was a little unsteady. “Our friendship didn’t end well. We don’t talk to each other anymore.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close as she could get without giving away too much. There was no way she could explain how her former best friend had looked straight through her as if she was a stranger the last time they’d run into each other, or the sickening wash of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing she still felt over the reason behind it, even after all these years.

“It was a long time ago,” she said as easily as she could manage, but Luka had always been able to read her better than that. His hand closed over hers briefly, reassuring and strong, and for a moment she let herself draw on his warmth.

“It still leaves a mark, though, doesn’t it?” he said.

She couldn’t help wondering a little bitterly how different things might have been if she’d told Luka everything, instead of Alya, back when she was fourteen. Would it have been Luka looking at her with that terrible emptiness?

Marinette broke eye contact and pulled her hand away to wrap it around her now-cold mug. She was aware that Luka was regarding her as if he saw a lot more than she was letting on, but he didn’t push for more. Instead, he got to his feet.

“I need another coffee,” he said, and gave her a questioning look. “Tea for you?”

She took the distraction, and followed him into the galley.

Luka kept to safe subjects after that, telling her about the group of students he’d been working with after school, and a gig that had gone disastrously wrong, until she couldn’t help but giggle when he described the drummer slowly sliding off his stool and passing out face down on his snare drum.

“It actually improved the quality of his playing,” Luka said wryly.

And he laughed when she countered with an account of Chloe Bourgeois commisioning her to design and make an outfit last season.

“I don’t think she’d even considered that MDC might stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng until she turned up for the fitting,” Marinette grinned. “You should have seen the look on her face, though.”

“Ridiculous!” Luka scoffed in a passable immitation of the Mayor’s daughter, and waved his hand in the air as Marinette giggled at him. “Utterly ridiculous!”

“And of course, nothing was good enough. She couldn’t believe I was expecting her to pay full price for such shoddy workmanship. I should be paying her to wear my rags.”

“Tell me you told her where to shove it,” Luka said, and folded his arms on the benchtop, leaning forward in anticipation. Marinette’s smile grew broader.

“Oh, better than that. I told her if it wasn’t to her satisfaction she was welcome to leave the dress and I’d cancel her contract, and I’d even waive the cancellation fee because we’d known each other such a long time. I was very helpful. I told her I was sure I could find someone willing to buy it instead, and Clara Nightingale had already seen it and asked if it was for sale. Which was true,” she added as an afterthought.

“And?”

Marinette tilted her chin, her smile turning smug. “She took the dress, of course. And ordered another one under a fake name a month later.”

“Seriously?”

“B. Queen, to be delivered to the Grand Paris Hotel. With her exact measurements. Seriously.”

Luka tipped his head back and laughed hard, and Marinette lost herself in the sound. God, he was a beautiful man.

Next to the couch in the living room, her handbag shuffled in agitation, and Marinette ignored it, but her smile faded in response to the reminder.

“Marinette,” Luka said more seriously, and when she looked up his blue eyes had deepened into something that was a little hard to read. He frowned a little, as if he was trying to decide what he should say. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I get the feeling that things haven’t been so easy for you. I know it’s been hard to let yourself get close to anyone.”

He was speaking slowly, measuring out each word carefully, and it felt like there was a whole lot he deliberately wasn’t saying.

“I just need you to know, the Liberty is always a safe place. We’re here for you. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

It would be so easy, so very easy, to fall into those ocean deep eyes and fall into his arms, and tell him everything. That was what made Luka Couffaine so dangerous to be around. With ten years of Tikki’s constant litany of concealment and duty ringing in her ears, Marinette clamped her mouth shut on all her secrets even as a tiny voice in the back of her head pleaded but this is Luka.

“Weren’t we supposed to practise the song?” Marinette blurted out, and felt the heat of an embarrassed flush rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t felt this thrown in years.

Luka accepted the abrupt shift with nothing more than a nod and a soft smile, as if he’d expected it.

“Back to the Disney salt mines,” he said drily, and startled a laugh out of her. “Don’t tell Rose I said that. She’d have me tried for treason.”

“How did we get ourselves into this?” Marinette asked, and Luka chuckled.

“Well, Ro loves Disney, no surprise there, and Jules loves Ro.”

“And you love them both,” Marinette said softly.

“And you’d do anything for the people you care about, even agree to sing at their wedding if they asked you to,” Luka said just as gently, and they exchanged glances. “So here we are, knee deep in Disney magic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit through Cinderella, both versions, and I can recite Tangled in my sleep.” His smile softened. “I’m developing a new appreciation for it, though.”

Marinette dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. He said in an easier manner, “I have to admit, there’s some great music. You should hear Rose belt out Let It Go sometime, and Jules did an incredible cover of Once Upon a Dream one Valentine’s Day for Rose.”

“What about you? Do you ever sing along?” she asked, trying to match his tone.

“What do you think? Music nerd here.”

He rapped out a solid, syncopated beat on the benchtop, and that husky voice of his sang, “Tatou o tagata folau...” She couldn’t help grinning, and he grinned back as he segued into a phrase from Circle of Life before riffing a bit of the simple bear necessities, and then finished on “You’re welcome, and thank you!” as she burst out laughing.

“Good music is good music,” he said with a shrug. “I get a lot of eyerolling from some of the kids when I start talking Disney in class, but it’s a starting point for a lot of discussion, and it turns out everyone always has their favourite song.”

“So what about you? What’s your favourite?” she asked, and he said easily, “Oh, there are a lot I could go with. It all depends on my mood.”

“Yes, but if you had to pick one?”

She wasn’t sure why she was pushing, and he hesitated for a long moment. Just when she thought he was going to brush it off, he reached for his guitar.

“It’s not strictly Disney, but ...” She didn’t recognise the soft, rippling intro that he played, and it wasn’t until he started singing that she worked out what it was.

He didn’t look at her as he sang about someday, out of the blue. It didn’t have to mean anything, it was just a song, he could have been thinking about anyone, but when he sang about still believing and still having faith in a voice that was far too heartfelt, Marinette felt her breath catch.

She couldn’t be doing this to him all over again.

~~~~~

He knew, the moment that his hands stilled on the guitar strings, that he’d gone too far and given away too much. The stricken look on Marinette’s face made that blatantly clear.

From the doorway, Rose breathed, “Oh Luka, that was lovely!”

Juleka dropped the bags of takeaway on the table and muttered something, while Luka watched Marinette and felt his heart sink like a stone.

“We so have to do a Road to El Dorado movie night tonight,” Rose was saying brightly. “You’re staying, aren’t you, Marinette? Otherwise Luka’s going to be the odd man out again.”

“I wish I could,” Marinette said. “I… I have to go. Sorry, Rose, maybe another time.” Her glance flickered in his direction. “Sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t stay for dinner after all.”

She scrambled her things together, dropping her handbag and coming up red-faced. This was more like the Marinette he remembered from their teenage years, and it brought up some difficult memories. She flashed an awkward smile in answer to Rose’s protests, and then she was gone.

“Well,” Rose said, staring at the empty doorway. “I guess Marinette’s still Marinette.”

“Rose!” Luka’s voice cracked like glass, and his future sister-in-law’s eyes widened at Luka’s uncharacteristically sharp tone. “Remember all those plans to get Marinette and Adrien together?” How well did those work out?”

“But this is different!” Rose protested.

“This is no different. No more plans. I’ve screwed things badly enough as it is.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again, thinking of all those secrets that Marinette had to keep, and the distances that had grown in her life because of them. More quietly, he said, “Marinette could really use a few good friends in her life. I don’t want her to lose us again because we’re pushing for more than she can give.”

“I…” Rose looked away, biting her lip, and then met his eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”

Dinner was quieter than usual, and Luka ignored the perturbed glances his sister kept shooting him. He pushed the food around, barely tasting it, and put it aside when he couldn’t pretend he was actually eating it anymore.

Luka swung away from the table, his phone in his hand, and hesitated, then he texted Marinette before he could talk himself out of it.

+Sorry about that. Rose has promised to back off on the matchmaking – I think she’s just got wedding fever. Want to run through the song one more time before the wedding?+

It wasn’t Rose’s schemes, though. He knew that. Marinette was taking far too long for it to mean anything good, although he kept trying to tell himself that she might not be able to answer, she might be in the middle of something, she might have her phone off... Juleka muttered at him to stop fidgeting so much, god, you’re driving me crazy, before it finally chimed with a response.

+I think I know it now+ she sent back. +See you next week+

Luka stared numbly at the words on his screen. It was happening all over again, and this time he had no defences left. Juleka was watching him with a look of exasperated sympathy.

“You’re just as stupid as you ever were,” she told him, and Luka exhaled heavily. It was hard to argue with that.

#see the light #lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #Disney

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chemicalpink · 4 years ago

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Hi! Hope you're good. I really like the way you write. Seeing that July 12th is heterochromia iridium day, is it possible to get a BTS reaction about meeting an heterochromatic army at a fan sign or them having an heterochromatic s/o? It's okay if it's too weird as a request! Tysm anyway!! ♥

I sure can! I was so scared the day was done but it's still July 12th here so... I kinda took the creative liberty of mixing tarot and fanfiction, you know, the way one does.

Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction derived from a one-card pull on OT7. You know how it goes. Entertainment purposes only.

SEOKJIN

Page of cups.- "Oh my god can I look closer?" Jin says excitedly for what seems the umpteenth time, truth be told, he hadn't really noticed the way that your eyes clashed two different colours in one, contrary to most first dates you had ever had where that was what everyone started gushing over, you could see the way that his eyes sparkled like a curious child so you relented and leaned closer to him "That's so cool! Really matches your unique personality too!" To say the least, even if he did his best to not have you notice his fascination, you could catch him one too many times smiling at you.

YOONGI

5 of cups.- Yoongi was never really bothered by the way that your eyes always seemed to get all the attention in a room, he really basked in the warmth of his partner getting all the attention that they deserved, although at times, when days weren't as bright and insecurities liked to take the worst in him, he felt the need to just have you wrapped like a burrito all to himself, like how he not so carefully wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you away from curious eyes "This is gonna sound so weird but I really wished that those eyes were only mine to look at" he whispers against your lips, making you stifle a giggle.

HOSEOK

page of swords.- Even though you and Hobi had been dating for quite some time now, the pure admiration and curiosity over your heterochromia never seemed to fade away, which was endearing, to say the least, it was a very much Hoseok way to show just how much he cared about you and everything that makes you, you. "But wait- so you weren't born with it?" "No Hobi, I hurt my eye sometimes when I was little and all that was left was this," you say pointing to your left eye, coloured in two different tones "But then- then when we have kids, won't they be prone to have it?" "When we have kids?"

NAMJOON

7 of cups.- Namjoon is a man of knowledge, and reason, and apparently- a lot of research. Although you both had in mind a romantic relationship, you had both decided to take things slow, which mainly resulted in Namjoon going on a research rampage out of sheer affection for you. It was hard not to notice the different colours in your eyes, and he wanted to make sure to understand all of it to a tee. "You know, you are part of less than the 1% of the population with that condition, Y/N that's so cool!" You can't help but giggle at his antiques "Yeah, I know Joonie" "Okay but did you know, that although there's not much research about it, it is considered to be inherited as an autosomal dominant trait.?" You look at him puzzled "I have all the resources to back me up"

JIMIN

10 of cups.- Although everyone else seemed to always gush over your eyes, there were some days where you wished you weren't born with the condition, a condition that had made you feel from time to time like there wasn't much else to you as a person than what made you different, stand out from the rest, and Jimin knew that damn well. "I know I can't really understand it Y/N, but please know that the fascination we all feel around you is because of who you are, not so much as to how you look baby" you sniffled while cuddling him "I try to keep it in mind Jimin" "And I'll be there for the times that you can't"

TAEHYUNG

5 of cups.- Taehyung was a possessive man in the cutest way possible, there was no denying that, although as time went by and your relationship got more serious, you got to meet some of his out circle of friends, whom to say the least felt absolutely captivated by the colours on your eyes, which you were fine with, having grown accustomed to it and knowing that they weren't ill-meaning with their questions, although not the same could be said about Tae. "Aish, move along would you?" his tone was teasing yet everyone knew better than to keep pushing his buttons "It's fine Tae, they're just curious" to which he poutily responded "Then they can google all about it"

JUNGKOOK

5 of pentacles.- "It's fine Kookie, you don't have to hold back your compliments on my eyes" Jungkook and you had been dating for some weeks now, the man still shy around you when it came to deeper meaning stuff like your heterochromia "I just- you've told me it happened because of an illness and I really feel like I would be saying I'm glad you're sick" you can't help but hold him closer to you, wondering how you got such a considerate man for yourself "But the illness is controlled Jungkook, and these eyes are just the reminder that I'm very much well and alive now" he looks at you with big eyes, taking a moment to consider your words before he snuggles against you even closer, voice barely audible "I think your eyes are really pretty Y/N"

Deck used: The Prisma Visions Tarot

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts tarot #kpop tarot #tarot meets fanfiction

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clouds-rambles · 3 years ago

Text

Hi dash

And good morning @clouds-amnesia, sleep well?

Anyway this is Ace’s oc Ara, one of the seven leaders of the elements. Obviously Dendro, I wasn’t even trying to be subtle with the colour scheme

I hope you don’t mind I took some creative liberties from the picrews you made <3

Brownie points to anyone that can guess Ara and Selene’s relationship

In hindsight I should have made the braid crown tighter considering how curly Ara’s hair is, but I thought about that half way through shading so it’s too late at that point

Honestly might just make a picrew for when I create oc’s bc this exact pose is it every time lmao

#clouds rambles #genshin impact oc #I HOPE YOU LIKE HER ACE!!!

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peach-the-owl · 4 years ago

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I think you not going to like this,74 and 87. But hear me out. child cries realize that it old group of the child after seeing the remain of child's old group. saying child fault after leaving the old group behind. But for Nein, they tell child the old group give their life to let child live. A burial for old child group, telling old group real goal, is see child a better future with new family they found. Yeah my English not good, but hope you like this. Try Destiny 2 Journey vocal 2 for this

It is done! So, I think I get idea, but I also decided to add in some creative liberties of my own, so to speak, because it’s the spooky season and who doesn’t love trauma! May have overdone it a little, idk but it was a fun ride. I hope it was worth the wait 😁

WARNING: This is gonna get a little graphic

Carry On

Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

74- Why are you crying? 87- It's my fault this happened.

You met the Mighty Nein several months ago when you were but a lone wanderer, concerned for a lost child they took you in hoping to help find your family. You told them that while you were traveling your family had been attacked by a strange looking group of gnolls, at least that’s what you could remember anyways. As you journeyed along you recognized the route you were taking, this was the same road you’d last saw your family and an eerie sense of being watched crept into you.

"We should be careful around here." You say huddling closer to Jester in the cart, she puts an arm around you and gives you a kind smile.

"Hey don’t worry about it, we’re always super careful." You wanted to believe her, but you’ve been with them long enough to know that wasn’t always true. The sound of rustling foliage catches everyone’s attention as these creatures that looked like gnolls jumped out and attacked.

It was like déjà vu, the long track down the road, assurance that things would be just fine, the rustling leaves that lead to an ambush it was exactly like what happened last time. Everyone sprang into action, while you were left in the cart trying to calm yourself, you look over and notice one of these gnolls was staring at you like it knew you somehow. You duck away from view and grab your weapon to defend yourself, the cart shakes as the gnoll jumps onto it and lets loose a cackle, something sounded off from the usual laughs gnolls normally made though. Even stranger is that it doesn’t attack you right away either, instead it grabs ahold of you before you can take a swing at it and covers your mouth to stop you from calling for help, it then proceedes to carry you deeper into the forested area. You can hear the shouts and sounds of battle grow fainter the farther in you go, you struggle and manage to wriggle free of this things grip and book it in the direction you could only assume you came from. Not looking where you’re going you trip on a tree root jutting out of the ground and stumble into a clearing, the area smelled rancid and upon looking around you could tell why. Bodies littered the area some more decayed then others, all of them twisted and mangled into strange positions, you could feel bile raising to your throat and had to physically stop yourself from vomiting.

"Isn’t it a beautiful sight? Such wonderful art." That voice, you knew that voice. Turning your head you see the "gnoll" remove its headpiece revealing a man underneath.

"Mr. Roland? You did this?" It was shocking, horrifying even to think that someone your family had once trusted would do something like this.

"Now don’t fret child, instead why not marvel at my latest masterpiece." He gestures towards something, you fearfully look over eyes widening and body trembling at the sight. Bloody bodies twisted beyond their limits with bones jutting out every which way, dried organs draped around arms and legs like they were fancy decorations, some of their faces were pinned up to look like they were smiling while others still held looks of agony. These people, this "masterpiece" was your family or what remained of them anyways.

"We… we trusted you." The words came out so fast and shaky making you wonder if you even spoke them at all.

"And it was a wonderful choice, just look at how amazing they turned out, in fact I should be thanking you." You give him a confused look. "You see if it wasn’t for your family doing everything they could to help make your escape I wouldn’t have this masterpiece at all. Perhaps I should let you flee again, after all you’ve brought me more people to work with and what a colourful bunch they are too." Your breathing hitched, this was because of you? They were like this because of you, and now the Nein were next… all because of you. Tears streamed down your face, vision blurring as the weight of the situation pressed down on you.

"Oh dear child, why are you crying?" He sounded as though he was mocking you now and as much as you wanted to look away or run you find your body having become unresponsive to your thoughts. When he speaks again his voice sounds as though it’s circling around you from all directions. "Could it be you feel left out? Well if that’s the case… I’ll be happy to have you join them!" You were too distracted to focus on his words or hear the loud thud along with a grunt of pain from behind you.

"Come on kid we gotta go!" Whoever was talking now you couldn't place their voice, still stuck on the horrific imagery that was now burned into your brain, it wasn’t until you felt hands on your shoulders did you finally react with a flinch. The sight of crimson eyes and lavender skin help readjust your focus. "Hey, hey, hey! Look at me kid, there’s no time for that we gotta go, now!" Legs shaking you slowly get up, only to stumble when you try to walk. With a swift motion Molly picks you up and dashes away from the clearing, your breathing was heavy and your head still felt a little hazy after what you just saw but you were still able to focus enough to see Roland give chase after you, a large slash wound across his chest and abdomen. Even with the nasty wound he still managed to gain on you, panic filling every part of your body the closer he got.

"B-be-behind you!" You managed to give a warning and with another swift motion your placed on the ground, hearing the sound of metal clashing before turning to see Molly blocking Roland's attack. You were able to see the road from where you stood but still found it hard to get your body to do what you wanted, feeling as though you frozen in place, so you did the only natural thing left that you could do…

You screamed.

Curling yourself into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears you let out an ear piercing shriek, soon gentle arms pick you up making you once again flinch on reaction but the calming voice that follows eases your worries a bit.

"It’s alright (y/n), you’re going to be okay." Fjord brings you out of the tree line and sets you down into the cart. "Wait here, I’ll be right back." You reach for him as he disappears back into the forest, slowly you lower your arms once again curling up into a ball for any sort of self-comfort, letting tears cascade down your face as the situation fully sinks in.

"It’s my fault this happened. They all died because of me, now I’m gonna lose two families." You sob to yourself thinking only of the worst outcome, so wrapped up in your own world you weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a minute, maybe an hour you didn’t know anymore. The feeling of something soft and fluffy nudging against you pulls you from those negative thoughts, slowly uncurling yourself to see Frumpkin butting his head against your hand asking for attention. You place the cat onto your lap brushing your hands through his soft fur, looking around your eyes land on Caleb standing a few feet from the cart giving you a empathetic look, had he heard you? It’s not long after the rest of the group emerges from the forest, some of them looking more roughed up then others, most notable being Yasha and Beau.

"So anyone know about that creepy ass clearing?" Beau blurts out, getting a few glares from the party as she realizes her slip of the tongue. "Umm… sorry, the question still stands though."

"M-mr. Roland called it his art." You say it quietly, but still loud enough for them to hear.

"Who’s Mr. Roland?" Jester questions, with a curious tilt of her head. You explain to everyone how he was supposedly a friend to your family, helping with jobs and looking after you and your siblings when your parents couldn’t, and finally how when your family had been attacked several months ago you had thought he was aiding you in the fight.

"No one survived, except for me… they all died because of me." You hug Frumpkin closer to you as fresh tears streamed down your face.

"That’s not true-"

"How do you know!" You shout at Fjord, cutting him off and immediately feeling guilty for doing so, you still continue but softer. "He said it himself that they all died while I was running away."

"They died because you ran away or to help you run away?" You snivel as you think about it again, but it was still hard to focus on your own thoughts. There was, however, one thing on your mind that kept taking priority over all else you just weren’t sure if they’d all agree, better to ask now then never though.

"Can-can I ask you all to do something for me? It’s ok if you don’t wanna, but I was wondering if we could maybe… go back and give them a funeral, or something." As you spoke your words fade to a soft whisper, feeling embarrassed by the request, resorting to hiding your face in the fur of the cat still trapped in your arms. The party talks amongst themselves while you try distracting yourself by playing with Frumpkin's paws.

"Hey." Looking up you see Veth in front of you offering her hand for you to take, so readjusting Frumpkin you take it as she leads you off the cart again and back towards the tree line. While your walking she keeps her hand firmly in yours. "I know this must hard for you, are you really sure you want to go back and see the… aftermath?" Was it not for the situation you’d find it almost funny how despite being about the same height she still acts very motherly to you, or maybe it wasn’t that funny at all, either way you knew what you wanted to be done.

"I’m sure, I don’t want them to be left here as a crazy mans 'art project' they don’t deserve that and I…" You pause, the words catching in your throat. Veth gives you a few gentle squeezes for reassurance to continue, after a minute you find your words again. "I want say goodbye properly. Is that dumb, does that sound dumb?"

"No no, it’s not dumb at all, in fact that’s very brave of you. Some grownups don’t even have the nerve to say goodbye, so just know I’m proud of you for that." You give her a small but genuine smile. By now you had made it back to the clearing, and with some deep breaths you step into it see the rest of the Nein having already dug some holes in the ground to act as graves. The bodies of your family and other poor victims who fell prey to Roland already being placed in some, Caduceus being the one instructing everyone on the proper procedures. It took a few hours so by the time they finished burying the bodies the sky had turned to dusk.

"Is there anything you’d like to say?" Caduceus asks you softly, as if his words could shatter you if he wasn’t careful. You open your mouth but find it to be a struggle to think of something to say now, having been put on the spot in front of everyone trying to force any sort of sound out to no luck. Your face slowly turns red at the feeling of embarrassment that washes over you.

"I have something to say to them if that is alright with you." Caleb says, looking to you as if to ask permission, you tilt your head a little in confusion but nod. He steps forward and clears his throat. "I may not have known them, but if (y/n) is an example of their kindness and acceptance of others, then I can understand why they would do anything to keep them alive." He turns and gives you a gentle smile, you faintly return it.

"It always hurts to lose someone you love, but if I can learn not to let that chain me down and accept love from others again then you can too." Yasha surprised you with her sweet words but there was something uplifting about them that you couldn’t help but raise your smile at.

"My turn! Ok… may the Traveler bless your souls for sending us this sweet little child to call our own, ummm… that’s all I got." Jester pipes in, bringing a sort of joy to cut down the lingering tension, it almost makes you giggle.

"As a mother, I know I’d happily give my life again to protect Luc knowing that he’s still alive and will carry on my legacy." Veth says, almost reminestantly. It made you slowly realize that maybe your family did the same so you could carry on their legacy too, if that’s the case then you’d accept it.

"I do believe the kid's made things more lively since they joined and I for one wouldn’t want to trade that for the world." Maybe not as heartfelt of a speech as the others, but you honestly expected nothing less from Molly, he even struts over to you and ruffles your hair earning a small laugh from you.

"Wait, are we taking turns? Uhh… it’s been nice having someone to look out for and teach the ways of the world to, it always feels like we have a purpose even when we feel useless." Fjord stumbled over his words a little, not fully expecting everyone to contribute but found his grounding at the end, his and everyone’s words so far having helped raise you spirits more and more.

"Ummm… look I’m not really good at this emotional stuff but I’m glad your here with us." Like Molly, Beau's little speech wasn’t all that heartfelt but her words were genuine and that’s all you could ask for.

"You all did amazing, I’m proud." Caduceus says, he then gently places his hands on the ground and casts Decompose while muttering a prayer of safe passage for the deceased to the Wildmother. The area quickly sprouting various fungus’ and some (favourite flower/s) the clearing becoming a beautiful patch of nature once again from the horror show that it once was. You are then brought into a group hug, a warm feeling of true belonging coming over you.

"I’m really happy I found you." Tears slide down your cheeks, but no longer ones of sorrow, these were tears of joy.

"We’re glad we found you too."

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senterya · 4 years ago

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For the temp characters ask meme:

1, 3, 6, 13, 17, 20 You can answer them for non-temp characters if you prefer :) All your characters on your character page look amazing :)

(i'm @sylvaridreamers ty for reblogging the post)

This is a very kind ask, thank you <3

The current beta characters in question are Budget Chrysa (after Duchess Chrysanthea) for Harbinger and a younger version of Tyrus for Virtuoso. My Willbender is just a copy of my commander so I'll talk about Mentearch instead because he is the one who's gonna get the spec later.

1. The basics - profession, race, and if they’d done the personal story, what would they have chosen?

Chrysa: sylvari necromancer, would have probably taken the Green Knight and Where life goes? The former is in some way similar to her later struggles against a certain rival Duchess in my AU, and the latter is because I headcanon her to be open-minded and curious about the outside world.

Tyrus: human mesmer, raised by common folk, and the circus questline for sure - it works well with how easy-going he used to be.

Mentearch: sylvari guardian, Shield of Moon and Act with wisdom. The descriptions of both questlines ("Any who dream they're protected by the moon shall know faith and fortitude" and "It is one thing to know what is right and another to change the world") are incredibly fitting for him in a twisted way.

3. What made them choose their profession?

Chrysa chose it out of curiosity - it was fascinating for her to see behind the veil of death and to learn to control it in a certain way.

Tyrus, honestly, just wanted to flex on people. Mesmer trickery is incredibly difficult to master, but can also be flashy and pretty and that was enough to impress the edgy teen he used to be.

It's difficult to justify (core) guardian for Mentearch, but the profession mostly reflects on his loyalty and his strong belief in his ideology. When they showed us the trailer for Willbender I could barely sit still, because "protectors of the throne who strike down enemies before they could react" is something that works with him amazingly well, like it was designed for him.

6. Would they be in an Order? Which one?

Chrysa wouldn't be in any of the orders, she's working with the Court and with the Pact if needed.

Tyrus is an officer of the Vigil, mostly stationed in Kryta and helping out Seraph efforts to keep the homeland safe.

Mentearch will actually join the Order of Whispers later on (post-Cantha or even later), after a half-joking mention of how they would "always welcome a backstabber like you".

13. Do you have any fun little headcanons about them?

Chrysa hates Mentearch with a burning passion - not only because he is advocating for another Duchess and helping her rise, but also because manipulative people and mind games utterly annoy and bore her. Mentearch finds Chrysa's bold attitude entertaining and recognizes her strengths; I'd go as far as to say he even likes her. That doesn't stop him from poisoning her later on but hey.

Tyrus used to sing in a choir in his early twenties to impress his crush (and later wife). He hums and sings a lot in his everyday life still. He encourages others to sing along with him - not caring about how good their voice is -, and is always happy to sing lullabies to his two daughters if they ask him.

17. Do they get along/agree with the “leaders” of their society?

As Chrysa and Mentearch are from the Court, the answer is an obvious no.

Tyrus, most likely, yes. He will sometimes ramble about how there aren't enough soldiers and resources to counter centaur attacks, but he mostly agrees with the way Jennah is governing Kryta.

20. Free space - anything you want to say about them!

Chrysa is a new addition to my AU and I've been very tempted to actually recreate her as a permanent character. I just really dislike the hair (both style and colour) they gave her and I already have two necros, and I don't play them too much either .-. Might still do it later though. Maybe take some creative liberties? We'll see.

Tyrus is a character I never really expected to grow on me as much as he did - I just did not have a human and I wanted a dedicated chronomancer, so I aimed to create the plainest, most average dude I could come up with. My brain immediately started twisting him around, gave him a personality, threw him in the middle of my AU and he just stuck with me since. Virtuoso is an elite spec that works much better for him than chronomancy would have ever could, so I'm super excited to finally put my hands on it.

Mentearch is also a later creation, and I realized he basically took Reln's place of "that one asshole courtier" although there is also CIra for that but he is another story. I have a tendency to let characters I get attached to be more likeable and softer as time goes on - so far Mentearch kept his flaws due to how and where I've placed him in the AU and I'm having mad fun with him. He isn't necessarily malicious but he sure believes that the cause justifies the means. And he has been working for a cause for years, relentlessly. Can't wait for it all to collapse in front of him.

#this is very long and was written between 4-5am so I hope it's not too much rambling #and apologies for the grammar I'm sure the whole wall of text is a bit rough to go through because of it #thank you again for the ask! I'm so glad you gave me the excuse to talk about my characters #I hope tumblr didn't eat the ask I sent you #(no pressure to answer though!! - I just don't trust this spagetti website with my asks)#tyrus #mentearch #chrysanthea #text #ask

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soontofustew · 5 years ago

Text

about now

summary: your touring husband is finally home.

pairing: park jaehyung x reader

word count: 2.5k ish

a/n: hey hey @nara1509!! this is written for you for the myday christmas fic exchange ~ (organised by the lovely @7abshy) you didn't really specify anything except husband jae so i took the creative liberties!! truthfully, this was really difficult to write (figuring out marriage dynamics and thinking about life after marriage) but i tried my best!! my writing here is lowkey weird too?? feels kinda different from my normal style but sorry for the long wait >< anyway i really hope you enjoy this and have a great 2020!!

“ y/n, aren’t you heading home yet?”

the sound of your typing slows to a halt as you finally look up from your computer screen after staring at it the whole day, blinking furiously in an attempt to drive the tiredness away. sohye’s head pops out from behind the door of your office, concern briefly flickering across her face as she takes in the mess of your usually organised surroundings. papers were scattered across your table, you knew there were at least three different files lying open on the couch and a multitude of post it notes were pasted across the department whiteboard that you had (with much effort) managed to roll into the room.

you attempt a reassuring smile at your closest friend and colleague in the department, although at this point you’re sure it looks more like a grimace.

“well, i’m hoping to be done with this by 7?” you catch the clock ticking to 6.45 out of the corner of your eye and inwardly sigh, “scratch that. maybe 8?”

sohye frowns for a moment, before stepping into your office. “i could come in early tomorrow to finish up the rest of the pitch and presentation? especially since you’re supposed to be on leave. minjung said she would be in early as well!”

“i’ll finish up what i can and email the rest to the department to finish. don’t worry so much and go home, shoo shoo.” you wave a hand at her and she nods somewhat reluctantly, turning around to leave.

“you better make sure you leave at 8.” she calls out as she turns to exit your office, not before fixing you with a stern glare that you know from past experience meant that she wasn’t playing around.

“yes mom.” you drone, waving your hands quickly at her in a shooing motion. “please leave safely.”

“i swear i’ll swap all the pen caps on your coloured pens-”, you tune out the rest of her exasperated shouts as she heads to the elevators, staring at your computer screen for a second before running a hand down your face in frustration.

today was not your day.

when you had woken up, you were more than prepared to have a week of well-deserved rest and relaxation. what you discovered was an urgent email from your boss telling you that you had to come into work for an emergency (leave or no leave), you had managed to fall and bruise your arm before even leaving the house and spilled coffee on your favourite blouse. upon reaching work, you realised an incredibly dumb tech intern had managed to wipe out all the files pertaining to the upcoming pitch your company had prepared for a major client (hence the emergency) and that your department had to redo it all by the weekend.

“and of course, all this just has to happen the one time i decide to clear the leave i have backlogged. and when he’s finally back home.” you grumble to yourself as you grudgingly continue typing. a chime sounds and you reach over to grab your phone, unlocking it to see messages from said person you were talking about.

6.54pm

[goat husbando]: hey hey i landed already. how u doing? .o.

[goat husbando]: also its raining did you pack an umbrella?

[you]: i’m ok

[you]: i think so?

[you]: should have a spare one in my office anyway

[goat husbando]: ok see u soon :”)

a smile creeps onto your face, as it sinks in that your husband is finally back in the country after what seemed like an eternity (admittedly only six months) on tour in europe and america. taking a moment to stretch your sore muscles from sitting all day, you think back to how you even met him and wonder how you managed to survive it all.

- 24th july, 9.32pm. -

you take a sip of your chai latte, taking in the skyline of seoul before you. "being up here really puts my worries into perspective." you mutter to yourself.

all of a sudden, a body crashes into you and you yelp in surprise, hands instinctively grabbing onto the railing to support your weight. your chai latte, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky and you stare mournfully as it falls from your grip.

"oh my god, i am so so sorry! are you okay? ok i guess you're not, i just made you lose your drink. damn it younghyun, look at what you did-"

turning to look at the situation after making sure your limbs were all intact, you meet a tall boy, his blonde hair tousled by the wind, wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose. he was clad in an oversized flannel, a simple black shirt and blue denim jeans completing the outfit.

"um-" you make an effort to get this attention, seeing him arguing with another boy, his hair dyed with purple hues.

he spins around, hands flailing in desperation, eyes large from worry. "i am so sorry! aH what can i do to make it up to you??"

you can't help it. at the sight of him panicking immensely over your spilt latte, you burst into laughter, hands wrapping around your middle. "you.. you look like... like an octopus." you manage to get out in between breaths.

the boy ceased all movement abruptly, moving to lean against the railing next to you. "i guess i kind of do huh?" he chuckles to himself. extending a hand towards you, he smiles - a grin so bright and disarming that it takes your breath away for a split second.

"park jaehyung. how about i buy another drink for you?"

you guessed that the rest, like people said was history.

but the past six months truly felt like the longest six months of your life. it was his first tour after the both of you got married and you convinced yourself that things would be fine. life without jaehyung seemed to function normally at first, you still woke up in the mornings and went to work, just that the bed seemed a little larger now, blankets a little colder when you wrapped yourself in them. skype sessions were irregular given the time differences, but you both tried your best and you would be lying if you said you weren’t happy that you had a folder of pictures dedicated to one park jaehyung falling asleep in the midst of conversation. by the third month of the tour, you were in “peak withdrawal mode” as sohye had termed, with every small thing reminding you of the tall idiot who occupied your heart.

grocery shopping and having to stretch for items that he would normally reach easily for. subconsciously cooking for two instead of one. turning around excitedly to show him a meme and realising he wasn't around. missing his warmth as the weather turned colder and you dug out old sweaters to compensate.

the fourth month was when you started wearing his shirts to bed. somehow they still smelled like him, a comforting mix of sandalwood and grapefruit. the video calls lessened as the weeks went by, what with how tired he was from the consecutive shows. still, you pushed on - burying yourself in work and department meetings, refusing to allow yourself time to dwell on the missing presence of park jaehyung.

and then you re-watched the proposal video.

it was a random evening on the weekend and you decided to clear out some random bits and bobs you collected in your drawers over the years, when you saw the disc. once the video started, you immediately knew what it was. the video was shaky and badly lit, but watching it, you could see every moment that happened in your mind as clear as day.

- 23rd july 2018, 11.54pm -

“isn’t the view nice?” the camera lens veers into your face as you lean against a metal railing, making you flinch and jump back slightly.

"not so close, alex!" you laugh and push the camera backwards, turning back to the open view in front of you. you take a deep breath of the cool night air and stretch your arms out, feeling the wind rush between your fingertips.

"hey hey of course i'm excited! i haven't visited you in ages and to get to tour seoul with you? have some sympathy for your best friend ok." the voice behind the camera rises in pitch and the screen fumbles for a second before readjusting and a blonde appears next to you, holding up a peace sign.

the video ends up focusing on you again, back to leaning against the railing, eyes drinking in the night scenery - watching the city lights of seoul twinkle beneath you.

"you really like this place huh?" alex asks again.

you nod, smiling into the distance. "i met jaehyung here. about seven years ago? and we came here a lot for dates, it's quiet and hardly anyone can be bothered to walk up here since it's only footpaths up to this peak. we just sat around, ate take-out and talked together. i remember he asked me out here too. he brought his acoustic guitar and sang 'best part' before asking me to be his girlfriend."

you turn around to look at her, eyes narrowing slightly before you spot jaehyung behind her, carrying his well-worn acoustic guitar.

he slowly walks towards you, a grin on his face as he strums the guitar.

"if you love me, i can love you till the end. so stay with me don't go anywhere. you will be without a doubt, my last love story. so please be my finale."

he reaches you, taking off his guitar and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the forehead. kneeling in front of you, he grasps your hands and takes a breath.

"hey y/n. wow ok, i'm totally more nervous than i thought i was going to be. ok ok. we met here on this day-", he quickly looks down at his watch, "on this day seven years ago. meeting you has changed my life, as cliche as it sounds. during these seven years, you've supported me through all the good times and the bad, even when i might have been out of the country and not able to do the same for you. i once asked you to be my girlfriend here. but now, i want to ask another question. is that ok?"

you can only nod in response, tears already gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"y/n, would you do be the honour of being my wife?"

"yes, yes! park jaehyung, i would love to be your wife."

you paused the video then, curling into a ball on the couch. the apartment had never seemed emptier than at that moment, jaehyung’s missing larger than life presence causing an absence that left a gaping hole in your life. even the dish towels looked sadder, you laughed while blinking back tears as you made your nightly cup of tea. a few minutes later, you were seated by your bedside, staring at the cup of hot honey lemon you had somehow subconsciously made. it was jaehyung’s favourite drink before bed and as the scent of honey flooded your nose, you broke down. that night, you cried yourself to sleep listening to his albums, missing the feeling of his arms around you.

a loud knock on the door breaks you out of your reminiscing and you look up, mouth dropping open in surprise.

"someone requested for a delivery of one tall handsome man?"

park jaehyung leans languidly against the door of your office, a cheeky smirk on his face. his hair messily ruffled from the plane ride, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other holding a multitude of plastic bags.

"what-" you begin, when he shuffles over immediately, index finger out and shushing you.

when did he get here from the airport? how?

you were stunned, mind torn between wanting to run over to hug him and struck by how well he knew you.

"i figured i would pick my lovely wife up from work today. and i bought some takeout along the way too - it's your favourite - sushi and some strawberry shortcake from that small bakery you like. i got the car parked downstairs and i know you're definitely tired."

he places the food down on the office table, leaning down to peck your forehead as he somehow manages to simultaneously save the work on your laptop and shut it down. "so, how about say we head home hm?"

he cocks his head at you, and as you stare into his eyes, you know there's only one correct answer. you can never refuse park jaehyung. so you shut your eyes briefly, savouring the weight of his hand as he strokes your hair before getting up to pack your belongings.

"ah, i forgot. younghyun invited us to dinner tomorrow. wanna go?" he asks without looking at you, hands tapping away on his phone.

and you suddenly realise that he's always asking the questions. always making sure you're comfortable. always being there to catch you before you fall. you set your half-packed bag down on the table and reach out, tugging the edge of his coat.

"hey." you lick your lips, watch as his eyes trace the edges of your face. "park jaehyung, can i kiss you?"

his eyes imperceptibly widen, hand reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he grins teasingly. "how can i say no when you're asking me like that y/n?", he whispers, voice catching slightly on your name.

so, you reach a hand out, cupping his face and pull him down towards you as you tiptoe to reach him. the warmth of his lips on yours grounds you, releasing a tension you didn't even know you had and you snake your other hand around his waist, drawing him closer. his hands settle around your lower back, tongue slipping into your mouth as you him kiss deeper.

when you finally break away, face slightly flushed and lips redder than before, you catch a glimpse of jaehyung's smirk and refuse to look him in the eye. "you really missed me, didn't you?" he traces a finger down the side of your cheekbones.

your response is to bury your face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood. "i did. i really did miss you."

"mm. i would love to stand here and hug you all day but the food's gonna get cold babe. besides, you got me to yourself all night." he slowly untangles himself from your embrace, and you proceed to gather up your things. fingers firmly intertwined with his as you leave the office, your heart skips a beat as you look up at jaehyung.

your husband is finally home.

#jaeins fics #jaeins writes #jaehyung scenario #day6 fics #day6 writing #day6 au #day6 jae scenarios #day6 #jae #park jaehyung #day6network #day6writersnet #jae fluff #jae fanfic #day6 fanfiction

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team-free-will-oneshots · 6 years ago

Text

Reckless

Title: Reckless Request: Hi, can I request a Dean x reader, where he makes her angry so she decides to leave him while on a hunt... (there’s more to the request, but that’s spoilers!) Summary: Dean thinks you can’t handle a hunt - you decide to prove how wrong he is. Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, fighting (physical and verbal), some angst, blood, violence Word Count: 1,600ish

note; thanks to the anon for sending this in! sorry it’s taken so long to get to it. i’ve taken some creative liberties, hope that’s okay! once i started writing i got alooot of inspiration, so i’ve made it into a series! this is part one, keep an eye out for part two!

“Dean, you’re being ridiculous! I’m not sitting this one out!”

“Y/N, it’s too dangerous!” your boyfriend snapped. “You’re too new to all this - you’re too reckless, you’ll get yourself killed or Sam and I will get hurt trying to protect you!”

“Then why did you even let me come, if you think I’m such a liability?” you demanded, blinking back angry tears and refusing to show how much his comments hurt you.

“I had no idea it would be this dangerous, okay? I thought it’d be a run-of-the-mill salt and burn, not a goddamn witch! You’re not ready for that!” he said. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Right - so you don’t trust me to handle myself on a hunt? Gee, thanks, Dean!” Your voice was sharp and clear, your hardened mask betraying no hint of the pain his distrust sparked.

“Not after last time,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes again. Right - he was still hanging on to that. It was one of your first hunts and you, Sam and Dean had been tackling a particularly nasty werewolf. Dean was overpowered - the wolf was about to deliver the final blow when you threw yourself between your boyfriend and the monster, earning a nasty injury for yourself, but saving his life. He still hadn’t forgiven you, it seemed, and was insistent on keeping you out of any and all danger, no matter the cost. Apparently, a witch was “too risky”.

Sam walked into the motel room, fresh from a shower and running his fingers through his damp hair. You and Dean fell silent, looking tersely away from one another. Sam looked between the two of you, somewhat puzzled.

“Everything okay?” he asked slowly, and you scoffed as Dean rolled his eyes.

“Ask him,” you spat, at the same time Dean muttered;

“Ask her!”

You cast him a dirty look, and Sam raised his eyebrows. “Uh. Okay. How about we get back to researching so we can get home and sort this out then, yeah?” he said. You clenched your jaw before nodding slowly, and Dean sighed before doing the same. That was the power of Sam - the perfect mediator, always armed with irritating logic.

Once you cast your grievances aside, the three of you managed to determine the witch’s location and began loading up your guns with witch-killing bullets. “Okay, let’s talk strategy,” Sam said. “How do we want to do this?”

“I can cause a distraction over here,” you said, pointing out a spot on the map spread over the bed. “Then you guys-”

“No, absolutely not,” Dean said sternly. “I meant what I said, Y/N. You’re not going on this hunt.” You and Sam both gaped at him.

“Dude, are you insane?” Sam asked. “This witch is crazy powerful, we need as much help as we can get,” he said. You nodded fervently, but Dean shook his head.

“We’ve handled worse, Sammy. She’s not coming,” he said, shooting you a pointed look. Your mouth dropped open in outrage.

“What the fuck, Dean?!” you yelled. “You’re being ridiculous, you need me on this hunt, you can’t handle her alone-”

“We’ve. Handled. Worse,” he forced out through clenched teeth. You snarled.

“You really think I can’t handle this? Jeez, I’m sorry for saving your fucking life, Dean, as if you wouldn’t do the same for me! What, do you just want me to leave you for dead next time?” you challenged, positively furious.

“Yes!” Dean shouted. “You don’t put yourself in that kind of danger, not for me, Y/N! You think I could live with myself if you died saving me? You’re deluding yourself!”

“Dean,” Sam interjected calmly.

“Stay out of this, Sam!” Dean shot back, turning his attention back to you. You felt a growl building in your throat.

“Okay, you think you can handle this without me? Fine! Don’t blame me if one of you ends up dead!” you shouted through the tears welling in your eyes. “I’ll see you back at the bunker!”

Without another word, you spun on your heel and stormed from the motel room, still clutching your gun so tightly your knuckles were strained white. You threw yourself into your car, grateful you’d decided to drive separately this time, and slammed the door behind you as you tossed the gun onto the passenger seat. You gripped the steering wheel, closing your eyes as you slowly breathed in, out, in, out…

When you opened your eyes again, your jaw was set and your gaze was stone. You knew you could handle this - you’d prove it to him. Make him sorry he ever doubted you.

You cranked the engine and slammed the car into gear, the wheels churning up gravel as you sped towards the witch’s hideout.

---

It was nearing one in the morning when you pulled in to the curb. You could see the witch’s driveway a hundred metres or so ahead, snaking up into the mountains and shrouded with trees. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you readied your gun and began to climb.

You kept off the gravel, sticking to the leave littered ground at its edge, decaying flora muffling your footsteps as you proceeded. After a few minutes of walking, you caught glimpse of a small, nondescript house nestled into a clearing at the top of the hill. The lights were off but soft light still glowed from within, flickering orange and yellow and throwing long shadows across the walls. Candlelight. What was she up to?

Holding your breath you began to walk over to the house, wincing when the gravel crunched under your first step. You deliberated for a moment before tugging off your boots, skipping quickly and quietly over the ground with bare feet. Rocks dug into your tender skin, but the pain was erased by the adrenaline pumping like blood through your veins. You heard what sounded like a twig snap behind you and shot around, eyes raking the darkness for the source of the sound - you found nothing, and dismissed it from your mind as you crept forward.

You crouched below the window and dared a glimpse into the room. The witch had her back to you, standing in the middle of a circle of candles and holding a bowl of dry, crushed herbs and a dark liquid up to the roof. Short, thick words in a language you didn’t recognise fled her lips, and you bit back a cry as you saw the dead body by her feet - another victim. Maybe if you and Dean hadn’t argued so much, you could have saved them.

Anger fuelled you as you raised your gun, lungs burning as you held your breath. All you needed was one clean shot, and she’d be done. Easy peasy, back to the motel before the boys had even left. You flicked off the safety just as the witch’s chanting fell silent. She froze at the sound, spinning around and raising her hand swiftly upwards. You were flung into the air and tossed inside the room, where you crashed against a chinaware cabinet and collapsed to the ground. Your shoulder had taken the brunt of the force and was burning with pain, but you had no chance to examine your injuries as you raised the gun again, struggling to hold it steady in your shaking hands. You aimed, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger...

You missed.

The witch cackled, throwing you to the corner of the room with her magic. The gun fell from your grip, clattering on the blood splattered hardwood, and the witch tossed her dark hair over her shoulder as she began to speak.

“That was very rude of you,” she chastised, tutting and shaking her head. Something seemed to occur to her, and she glanced around furtively. “You. You were one of the hunters who came by earlier, weren’t you? Where are your friends now?” she sneered, though she shot wary glances to the door. You stayed stubbornly silent, sparing only a low groan as she kicked the side of your face with her heavy boot. You could taste blood, and gathered it in your mouth before spitting at her face. You missed again, but watched with a satisfied smile as the rust coloured saliva splattered on her white shirt. She scowled, kicking you in the torso. You doubled over, moaning at the sharp pain in your ribs.

“Nevermind, I need to be quick,” she muttered to herself, continuing the spell you had interrupted. The foreign words fled her lips quicker this time, and you caught sight of your gun a few metres away, glinting dully in the candlelight - your last hope. You glanced back up at the witch, who grinned as the open window was covered with a pearlescent sheen.

You inched towards the gun, managing to grab it just as she began to speak.

“There - your friends won’t be able to catch me now, not with the head start I’ll have,” she said breathlessly, turning to grin at you. Her face fell as she saw the gun aimed at her chest. Your hands were steady this time - you wouldn’t miss.

The gun kicked back in your hand as the bullet flew free. It lodged just above her heart, her white blouse blooming with red as she staggered back, cursing and screaming as she began to bleed out.

“You little bitch,” she hissed, using the last of her magic to pick you up and fling you towards the window. The gun fell from your grasp as you were flung through the shimmering veil, but before the room entirely disappeared, you saw the witch collapse to the ground, hands clutching futilely at her wound, face growing pale as blood pooled on the floor.

You managed a smile. You’d done your job. Dean would be proud.

You welcomed the darkness.

Read part two here!

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jackiesarch · 6 years ago

Note

Fluff 42 and 43

Thank you dear! I’m so sorry it took so long!

42. We’re pregnant! & 43. Shut up and kiss me.

I hope you don’t mind, but I took some creative liberties with one of the prompts so that the dialogue would flow a little better. I hope it works for you too!

Pairing: John Seed x Female Deputy

Tags: Non-Cult AU, pregnancy, soft!John

————

She makes dinner. That’s how John knows something’s up. Not that he doesn’t mind the gesture, of course, but Rook is no chef, and he’s more or less taken over in the kitchen for the year or so they’ve been together.

John knows almost every part of her like the back of his hand, but even he can’t quite tell what’s on her mind tonight.

The possibilities buzz around inside his head. Rook is a hopeless romantic, he’s discovered, so he wouldn’t be surprised if this were some kind of strange, safe-for-work foreplay. It’s neither of their birthdays, their anniversary isn’t for another six months, and John is almost positive he hasn’t missed any major holidays. He has to admit — he’s intrigued.

“Fettuccini.”

The sound of the plate hitting the table in front of him breaks his train of thought. He’s amazed to find that it actually looks edible. Good, even.

He eyes the curve of Rook’s hip as she walks by him and pulls her chair out from the opposite end of the table. She sits, settles her plate in front of her, and meets his curious stare with a look of her own.

“Where’s the real Rook?” John asks. “The one that doesn’t know how to cook?”

“Aliens,” Rook suggests in her most serious voice. “The pasta is from a box. The sauce is from a jar. Hold your applause.”

John smiles at her lopsidedly. His life hasn’t always been happy, but this woman makes getting out of bed in the mornings worth it.

“What’s the occasion, darling?”

Her expression shifts a little, something subtle that he wouldn’t have caught if he weren’t paying such close attention. Rook scratches the side of her nose nervously and smiles at him.

“After. Eat.”

So they do. They eat together, spend time talking about their days. Rook and her colleagues are preparing for a massive drug bust — meth, cocaine, the works — and the anticipation of the arrest is making her antsy. John’s going blind on corporate closings himself, so he’s appreciative of the reprieve her story provides. He’s always loved being lawyer, but he’s never been particularly fond of all the paperwork.

The conversation flows easily, but Rook’s speech feels stilted. To John, it sounds like she’s trying desperately to measure each word before it leaves her mouth, and each sentence leaves him feeling more curious and more concerned.

They finish their dinner mostly in silence, and when Rook’s picked up the plates and taken them to the sink, she comes back and sits next to him at the table. In her hands she carries a box wrapped in blue paper.

“What’s this?”

Rook sets it in front of him and wrings her hands together. It’s a nervous habit of hers, and John can tell that she doesn’t know she’s doing it.

“Open it.”

John raises an eyebrow and eyes the box warily. He’s starting to get the impression that he’s missing a very important piece of whatever mysterious puzzle Rook’s working on.

“I have to ask,” he says quietly, watching her face. “I haven’t missed an important day, have I?”

A laugh startles its way out of her, and for a second Rook seems surprised at her own reaction. A tiny smile settles on her face.

“No, just—just open it.”

John gives her a final look before he slides a finger under the fold of the paper at one corner and tears it away from the box. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks Rook might be trembling, though he’s not entirely sure. He was concerned, at first, but now quiet anxiety is starting to swirl in his gut.

He opens the box. Inside is a white piece of cloth, folded enough that he can’t quite tell exactly what it is on first glance. John pulls it out and lets it unfold.

It’s a baby onesie.

“What’s this?” he asks.

There’s a black silhouette of the scales of justice on the front of the onesie, and the words ‘daddy’s co-counsel’ centered underneath it. When he looks back to Rook, she nods towards the open box. John sets the outfit down on the table top and looks back inside.

He doesn’t realize at first what he’s looking at. When he finally recognizes the white plastic strip and the blue plus sign of the pregnancy test for what it is, the air disappears from his lungs. His head drifts back to Rook, and he’s sure all the colour has drained from his face. It feels like someone’s punched him square in the chest.

“Is this…?” he starts hesitantly, watching her face very closely. She looks like she’s close to tears. “Rook? Please tell me you’re not messing with me.”

Rook shakes her head very gently, and John feels more things in this one moment than he thinks he ever has in his entire life. Surprise, first, followed by an all-encompassing happiness that he doesn’t have any precedent for. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, and he doesn’t know what to say or do other than to bring his hand up to cover his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, voice hoarse. His heart is thudding in his ribcage. “I have to make sure we’re on the same page here because I do not want to get the wrong idea.”

A laugh surprises its way out of Rook’s mouth. It’s a watery, warbled sound.

“Are you pregnant?”

She nods very slowly, her face twisted in emotion. Fear? Panic? He can’t tell, but he doesn’t like it. It looks foreign on her face, and John never wants to see it there again.

“Yes.“

A grin splits his face so widely that his cheeks hurt, and he watches the hesitancy melt from Rook’s expression. John gets out of the chair and kneels down in front of her. He finds her hands and tangles their fingers together to stop her trembling.

“Normally people are excited about this kind of thing, darling,” John reminds her, voice whisper quiet in the empty dining room. He offers her a small smile. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know how you would react,” she admits, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t—we’ve never talked about kids before.”

John reaches up to cup her face in his palms. Rook’s skin is soft and warm under his touch, and he tilts her head a little so she can’t look away from him. He can see the uncertainty in her gaze, the trepidation and fear that this would somehow be a dealbreaker for him, and end to her happiness. She blinks owlishly, and John runs his thumb over the line of her cheekbone.

He is hit very suddenly by the gravity of it all. John leans in to kiss her, slow and deep, and when he finally breaks to speak he murmurs his words against her mouth.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, like it’s the most amazing thing in the world — and it is. It’s incredible. “How could you possibly think I wouldn’t be happy?“

Rook shakes her head, a not-so-subtle gesture that says I don’t want to talk about it. Normally, he would press further — maybe it’s not healthy, but he wants to know exactly what part of himself has planted this seed of doubt in her mind so he can cut it out and destroy it. Instead, John finds he’s too happy to do anything other than let her off the hook. Their lips meet again in a soft, gentle kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers. His hand comes up to her belly, still very flat beneath her shirt. “God, I—“

There are so many things he wants to say, but he can’t figure out how to articulate them. Instead, he exhales slowly, tipping his forehead down to rest against her stomach.

Rook reaches for him and runs her fingers through his hair.

“The onesie was clever,” John says after a while, pulling away so he can look up at her properly.

All at once, it’s as though Rook is a totally different person. Her face lights up in a grin, tears and trembling hands long forgotten.

“I know,” she says enthusiastically. “Do you know how long I’ve been picturing you walking into a courtroom with a baby strapped to you?”

“How long have you known?” John asks incredulously.

The grin falters, and for a minute he swears she looks sheepish.

“Two weeks,” Rook admits. “First I panicked, and then I didn’t know how to tell you. Then I thought about how if my mother were alive she would kick my ass for waiting so long to say something, and, well — here we are. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, darling,” he soothes. He leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose.

Rook jolts suddenly, clambering up out of the chair and leaving John crouched in front of the empty seat. He stares at her curiously.

“Oh!” she says, eyes wide and excited. “I have an ultrasound picture from when the doctor checked to make sure. Hang on.”

John stands, legs numb and wobbly, and watches Rook retreat toward their bedroom. How long has she been keeping a photograph of their baby in there? How oblivious has he been?

She comes back with an eight by ten in her hand, and holds it out to him. The picture is grainy, black and white, but he can see the outline, the peaks and valleys where the nose and mouth are formed. They’re so small, whoever they are — boy or girl. He can’t believe that this is a human being.

“Shit,” John says, because he can’t think of anything more productive to say. “That’s our baby.”

"Sure is.”

He can’t stop staring.

“How far along?”

“Two months,” she says, and he looks up, floored. He only has to wait seven more months to meet his little one, though he supposes the wait will be unbearable now that he knows.

John reaches out and tugs her against him so he can squeeze her tight. Behind her back, where his arms wrap around her, he finds himself still staring at the sonogram in his hand. His heart swells. He doesn’t think he has ever felt like this before.

A sudden thought makes him pull back just enough to fix her with a look, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Do your coworkers know? Whitehorse?” he asks, but doesn’t give her the time to answer. “There’s no way you’re tagging along on that drug bust.”

“John—“

“Not a chance in hell,” John carries on, drowning out her voice with his own. A new kind of anxiety that he isn’t used to is starting to trickle into the pit of his stomach. “Too many weapons, no—“

“John,” Rook says forcefully. “Shut up and kiss me.”

And he does.

#far cry 5 #john seed #c: female deputy #john seed x female deputy #john seed x rook #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic #my writing #cw: pregnancy #soft john #all I know how to write is soft seeds #I'm living up to my name

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meditativeyoga · 5 years ago

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Be the spectacle

Existence is not a work, it is a party-- a large dancing of energy which will certainly go on and on for life in various forms, yet can not vanish. Energy is eternal.

It is an extremely wrong conditioning that has actually created a workaholic culture, which condemns people who do not participate. Yes, there are demands: you need food, you require clothes, you require some shelter. Naturally, you will certainly need to do something to create these small points. However this is not the fate of presence that you developed a home, that you produced a few children, that you are combating with your spouse. I can not see that versus the vast view of existence, your little stupidities are meeting any type of destiny.

I desire it to be emphatically understood by my people: we do not have any kind of job below. We need to take part the celebration of existence. Those tiny needs are only survival measures. Do not extol just how big a financial institution equilibrium you have, presence has no demand of it. Don't extol just how great a political leader you are, a head of state or a head of state, presence merely understands absolutely nothing regarding you. Presence is extra harmonic with these little birds who for no factor start singing, from large energy. I intend to destroy the accomplishing mind. That is your disease. I desire you to relax and also enjoy.

I have actually heard a tale, I have no idea whether it is real or otherwise. It has to be true.

Long back, when humankind was not such a big group of five billion individuals, they decided: let us see exactly what happens if one certain day everybody chuckles loudly, dances and also jumps for no reason in any way. The entire world at a particular minute decided it deserved trying out to see just what happens. And also just what took place was extremely shocking, since everyone idea, 'When there will certainly be a lot noise and also giggling and also dancing and also singing, it is better to stay silent and also watch and also delight in the entire thing.' Everyone believed the same means. Mind functions the exact same method. For those 5 minutes that were picked for celebrating, screaming, leaping-- whatever you desired to do to express your joy-- the entire globe dropped entirely quiet. They could not think ... just what has actually gone wrong?

Nothing had failed, it is the very same mind. Everyone assumed, 'Let us watch it. It is going to be fantastic entertainment. If you come to be a participant you will certainly not have the ability to enjoy all examples that will be occurring all over.' But exactly what came to their mind was that due to the fact that every little thing quit-- there was such silence, as there has never ever been.

This entire universe is a holy place, and the entire presence is aiming to reach you in a lot of ways-- through the sun rays, with the trees, through the birds-- these are all carriers. I desire to transform also the tiny work that you do. Make it extra visual, make it extra imaginative. Make it an excellent delight, since it is your life. It is going to give you food, it is mosting likely to offer you clothes, so whatever you do, it is not work, it is merely to remain as long as feasible in this body as well as commemorate existence.

I have actually enjoyed only one American in my life, as well as that guy is Walt Whitman. And the factor I enjoyed him is just one of his small poems. The title of the rhyme explains everything. It is 'I Celebrate Myself'. Just when you could claim, 'I celebrate myself'-- after that your job is transformed right into celebration and your life comes to be a non-achieving, non-ambitious trip of appeal. The minute you enjoy the job, it comes to be creative. It takes on a completely various colour, different elegance. These individuals, these trees, these birds should also come to be component of the space that you call love. And afterwards you will not ask, 'I wish to be cost-free.' You are free!

Love is the only alchemy that brings liberty. It is hate, it is rage, it is jealousy that maintains you in bondage. Just a pure love-- unconditional, because just what problem can you place on the birds? What condition can you place on the trees? Genuine love, and you are free. Devoid of all jealousy, free from all temper, because there is no opponent here. All are close friends as well as all are enthusiasts as well as all are part of one planetary whole.

But this type of complication happens psychological, because the mind is carrying extremely contradictory, inconsistent, unimportant info. Your mind has actually been completely destroyed, due to the fact that society does not require you to have a mind. Society needs you to be an employee, a slave, as well as a slave is not supposed to have a mind of his own.

They have made use of a really shrewd way to destroy your mind, to make sure that you could remain completely satisfied that you have your mind and in truth, you do not have it. They have actually placed all kinds of contradictory things in it.

One has to achieve to freedom, as well as nobody has actually informed you that love is freedom.

Nobody has informed you that celebration is freedom.

Nobody has told you that to be alone as well as content, so entirely pleased that you can say 'I celebrate myself,' is freedom.

You do not understand that the course that brings you to yourself ... where you have never ever disappeared, simply your mind has been predicting far goals. You have remained in your residence. The only point that could bring you back, can withdraw your estimates, is the happiness of being alone. You aren't sure the purity of aloneness. Aloneness is your residence. And aloneness is your flexibility-- freedom from the various other, flexibility from the demand of the other, freedom from the dependancy on others.

Aloneness is your freedom and aloneness is your home.

This celebrating existence, this celebrating awareness is your home.

#asana

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prepping-for-everyday-life · 5 years ago

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Becoming a Mind Master

On my journey to strengthening my willpower I encountered another quest I’d like to share. SuperBetter uses scientific findings to create small fun quests which help strengthen your mental resilience. Science part: Cultivating curiosity helps us maintain an open mind and well-toned nervous system - aka we don’t overreact when confronted with normal problems and hindrances. Quest part: Look around the room right now and find three interesting, intriguing or beautiful things about your environment that you’ve never noticed. My bathroom isn’t exactly the most.. fascinating place, in fact it’s really dusty and grimy right now, which made it hard to find anything beautiful. It’s also a room with comparatively few changes. Nevertheless, I found a few intriguing things (after staring at minor details for like 15 minutes like a lunatic).

The Shaver Rocket

I’m not sure what this part is for, but the colour and luminescence looks really pretty, and it reminded me of a rocket. Not seeing it? Well, here is the proof!

(I wouldn’t blame you if you’re still not seeing it, to be honest)

The Subnautic Water Meter

I really like small gears, and while looking at my water meters I noticed those cute black gears, and the fact that these instruments could totally be found in the engine of a submarine. I mean, look at them! They’re cool as heck!

The face in the wall

It took some time and intense staring at my wall tiles, but I found a face! The lightening isn’t great in that picture, so I took the liberty to demonstrate:

He looks kinda dumb, but also cute. I’ll call him Wallaby from now on.

And those were my awesome findings! I’m not sure if my mental resilience rose, of if I’ll react more calmly to annoyances from now on, but it sure as heck was fun and creative and boosted my mood. Try it out right now, you’ll see what I mean!

#curiosity #creativity #positive mental attitude #mental health #SuperBetter #prepping your mind #willpower

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love-killed-the-superstar · 7 years ago

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IT’S HERE!!! SOME DOMESTIC IRMA/CORNELIA GOODNESS TO HEAL YOUR SOULS, HAPPY FEMSLASH FEBRUARY

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 1 - road trips and stars Summary: “What, you mean you can't just up and introduce me as your banging girlfriend?” “No, Irma,” Cornelia said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Because up until today they think I've been dating an aspiring future botanist from State U, not the girl who once snorted orange juice out of her nose during a Boy Comet marathon.” (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/31578714

Irma stared out of the window groggily as Cornelia took her sweet time loading two large suitcases and a handbag into the back of the car. She'd taken the liberty of shoving everything she needed into her signature teal suitcase and a tote bag with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles design on it, since it was to be expected that Cornelia would be bringing home so much junk for a two-week period.

A rapping of knuckles against the glass dragged her out of her daze, and she rolled down the window.

“Morning, Corny,” she drawled, rubbing one eye sleepily. “I've been driving since six and without the sweet remedy of coffee, so you'll have to take over until we hit the next pit stop.”

“As someone who had the sensibility to prepare coffee beforehand, I'll rise to that challenge,” Cornelia said with a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. She leaned down, planted a wet one smack in the middle of Irma's forehead, then yanked on the door handle. “Now get out so we can swap over.”

“Only because that was the darned cutest wake up call ever,” Irma agreed with a yawn, stepping out of the car and into Cornelia's arms. Her girlfriend was ready for the Heatherfield winter, in a moss green shawl and mulberry-coloured dirndl skirt. Her cute winter ankle boots, cuffed with faux fur the colour of soot, added an extra two inches, leaving Irma squinting up at her in bemusement. “Are you ever not wearing earth tones? And how am I supposed to kiss you back when I'm at eye level with your boobs?”

“You're creative, you'll figure something out,” Cornelia said lightly, far too chipper for so early in the morning. She spun Irma around, effectively taking her place beside the car, and plopped down in the driver's seat. Irma climbed onto her lap immediately despite protests.

“You're right, I did. I can finally get to your face.” Irma pulled her into a kiss, as messy as it was sleep-deprived, and grinned as she pulled back. “Course, I could have just kissed your tits instead.”

“Through this shawl?” Cornelia raised her eyebrows. “Nice try. It's cashmere.”

“Well, cash it in for some sweet Irma kisses, because they're incoming.” She puckered her lips for effect, and Cornelia hastily clapped a hand over her mouth. In the ongoing struggle, Irma's butt cheek leaned against the wheel, honking the horn twice before Cornelia forcibly pushed her into the passenger seat, giggling helplessly.

“Irma! I'm sure my neighbours don't want to be awoken by your butt on the steering wheel,” she chastised, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Irma rolled her eyes, still giggling like a fool, and fastened her seatbelt.

“Spoilsport. Anyway, I'm gonna catch some sleep, so no singing along to the alphabet song while I'm snoozing, okay?”

“Where you get the impression that I'd be listening to anything but classical, I'll never know,” Cornelia responded nonchalantly, grabbing her flask of coffee from the cup holder and offering it out to her. “Here, some coffee and a short nap and you'll be right as rain.”

Irma took a swig, spent the next few minutes complaining about Cornelia's shit taste in coffee, and curled up in the passenger seat, insisting on wearing Cornelia's cashmere shawl to snooze in.

“If you drool on it, I'm holding you accountable for dry-cleaning,” she warned, but her tone held no malice and Irma made a point to give it a wet kiss before curling up against the window and drifting off.

…

“Hey, you're getting spit on my shawl.”

Irma was nudged awake with a playful left hook to the chin, and she groaned as light seeped into her vision. The morning sun was already higher in the sky, and making its presence known by proceeding to blind her.

“Ugh, what time is it?” she groaned, shielding her eyes with one hand and wiping at her mouth with the other.

“Half ten. At this rate, we'll make it to my parents' cabin for mid-afternoon.” Cornelia climbed back into the driver's seat and thrust a wrapped sandwich into Irma's face. “Here, I picked you up a breakfast sandwich.”

Irma took in the scent of bacon and egg, and immediately her mouth began to water all over again.

“Oh man! Cornelia, have I ever mentioned what a goddess you are?”

“Once or twice,” she remarked with a smirk, unwrapping her own breakfast bagel. “Mostly after cunnilingus.”

“Cornelia Elizabeth Hale, that mouth!” Irma swatted at her arm playfully, before tucking into her sandwich. She eyed Cornelia's bagel. “You still veggie?”

“Yep,” she said distractedly. “Thinking of going vegan for my new year's resolution, but finding vegan alternatives in service stops seems like a pain.”

“You pansexuals and your crazy dietary choices,” Irma grumbled, an impeccable impression of her father, shaking her head. Cornelia grinned.

“That's a thing?”

“Read it on Twitter.”

“Oh, so you're stereotyping me now?”

“When don't I stereotype you, blondie?” Irma teased with a wink. “You do realise if you go vegan my dad is never gonna cook for you again? He puts cheese and butter in everything.”

“That's fine,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I'm sure Anna will bend over backwards searching for vegan cookbooks. Chris will hate me for it, but he hates me anyway.”

“It's possible he doesn't hate you,” Irma countered. “He just doesn't like that he has to deal with two annoying big sisters now instead of just one.”

“An understandable dilemma,” Cornelia agreed. She took a few moments to finish her bite of bagel before continuing. “I'm sure it can't be easy knowing his sister's dating the hottest girl in the universe. He'll end up having to settle for less no matter what.”

“Narcissist. Anyway, since I came out my dad and Anna keep trying to land home the point with Chris. Like, 'if you bring a boy home instead of a girl, it's no biggie, okay?' Part of me thinks its endearing, but mostly I'm just offended that Chris is getting an easy ride and not taking full advantage of their newly opened minds.”

“Ah, well, he'd have to have those leanings in the first place to take advantage of them,” Cornelia pointed out, chewing thoughtfully. “And from the looks of things, Chris is as straight as a goal post.”

“I mean, he's thirteen and still thinks girls are gross, so there's hope yet.” Irma shrugged. “What about Lillian? Think she's gonna be psyched that you're dating me?”

“If disappointment could be a more powerful emotion, she'd probably be feeling that?” Cornelia suggested with a grin. “I mean... she got on pretty good with Peter. Who knows what she'll say to know I left Heatherfield's cutest surfer to date... Heatherfield's second cutest surfer.”

Irma balled up her wrapped and threw it at Cornelia with a scoff.

“Rude! And hey, I may not be beach hunk material, but I'm beach chunk, and that's a very attractive quality.”

Cornelia reached over to pinch Irma's cheek playfully.

“That's right. Peter could slice beef with that jawline. I much prefer these chubby cheeks.”

“You mock, but I have many selfies with lipstick-covered cheeks in my evidence locker,” Irma retorted. “You do love these chubby cheeks and I can prove it too!”

Cornelia leaned over and pressed a kiss to the cheek in question.

“You don't need to prove anything,” she replied, an impish grin on her face. Irma's eyes narrowed and she stretched across to kiss Cornelia squarely on the nose.

“Let's just agree that we're both adorable and call a truce. Got any of that disgusting coffee left?”

Cornelia reached into the cup holder and presented a brandless fair trade coffee cup proudly.

“Why waste my coffee on your ruined taste buds when I could just overload you with sugar instead?”

Irma clapped her hands against her cheek with a squeal, before gripping the coffee cup like a life preserve.

“Cornelia, you are an angel among women everywhere, you know that? The best girlfriend a girl could friend! Ellen and Portia who?”

“Your excitement over pit stop coffee is just a little bit sad.”

Irma shot her a glare that soon melted into a grin as she took a gleeful sip.

“You put in three sugars? Corny, now you're just spoiling me!”

“What can I say, I'm a renaissance woman.” She took a sip of her own coffee and buckled herself back in. “I don't mind driving for a bit longer, but we'll switch at lunch time, okay?”

“Dealio. Man, you're the coolest. Did you forget to pack the stick that's normally in your butt?”

“Don't push it, dear, or I'll throw your coffee out of the window.”

As Cornelia pulled out of the parking lot and onto the junction, Irma pulled the shawl a little tighter around her and sipped her coffee. She was gradually feeling like herself again, and not some subhuman creature who'd been stomping around since 5:30 that morning. Cornelia had on some kind of smooth jazz radio station, blasting that good and horny Dionne Warwick song that Cornelia put onto every custom playlist she sent to Irma, and Irma felt the need to shake up the momentum of the car a little. Wordlessly she plugged in her iPod and began switching through tracks.

“Irma!” Cornelia protested. “I was listening to that!”

“You mean you don't want to pop your pussy to Karmilla's latest single?” Irma asked, eyes popping in disbelief. “Man, you'll love her new stuff now she's publicly come out, it's like her entire discography suddenly makes ten times more sense in the context of the metaphysical closet.”

“Karmilla's gay?” Cornelia asked in disbelief. “Since when?”

“Bi,” Irma corrected. “Since like, last March? How is this news to you?”

“Ahh. I don't know, I'm still stuck on Dionne Warwick after all this time.”

“Fair enough. Well my darling Corny, in fifty years when you catch up with contemporary music again, give Karmilla's upcoming album a listen, so far it's really angsty and gay. And also uplifting and gay.” “Sounds like a blast.”

Irma scrolled to Karmilla's latest song, Claim To Closet Fame, and let the first few bars wash over them in a blissful silence.

Then she started wailing about kissing down a woman's chest in a darkroom, and Cornelia grimaced.

“Her passion is a bit scary.”

Irma shrugged.

“Passion is passion, babe.”

“So,” Cornelia said quickly, not wanting to press the issue of their clashing music tastes any further, “this is going to be a very important winter break.”

“Uh huh.” Irma sat up a little straighter. “Our darling Cornelia's ready to jump out of the closet and scare her parents half to death over an awkward dinner where they'll be paranoid she's gonna tell them she's pregnant or dying or flunking her degree instead of just making the frying pan joke over a face-time call and being done with it.”

With a deep sigh through her nose, Cornelia pushed her hair back. “It's not that simple. First is the idea of explaining pansexuality to my parents, who by the way, still think there's only two sexual orientations and being bisexual is a one-foot-out-of-the-closet situation. So brace yourself for that.”

“Noted. Go on.”

“Then we'll have to go through the stages of my parents asking if they did something wrong, if I've been in a toxic relationship, if I'm just confused, and all of that fun stuff. And they'll say, 'Peter is such a nice boy, why would you choose to be gay?' which brings us right on back to point one.”

“So this will be a circular conversation. Understood.”

“And then, finally, we'll tell them that we're in a relationship. But I need them to understand my identity first and foremost, Irma. You can understand.”

Irma shrugged. As far as coming out had gone, being gay and dragging Cornelia along to Heatherfield Pride as her girlfriend had been one and the same, but she got the jist.

“What, you mean you can't just up and introduce me as your banging girlfriend?”

“No, Irma,” Cornelia said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Because up until today they think I've been dating an aspiring future botanist from State U, not the girl who once snorted orange juice out of her nose during a Boy Comet marathon.”

“No fair, that was one time and I was thirteen!” protested Irma, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “You can't hold that over me forever!”

“I don't, but they'll remember because it was my mother's couch that had orange juice stains on that never quite went away,” Cornelia pointed out tiredly. Irma groaned dramatically and flopped back in her seat, hand thrown over her face.

“Are they ever gonna approve of me being your girlfriend?” she grumbled. “I don't fancy marrying into a family that thinks I'm some good-for-nothing slob.”

“Of course they don't think that!” Cornelia said quickly, switching lanes to let a FedEx van pass. “Sure, they probably aren't expecting mystery botanist guy to be... well, you. But once they get over the fact that you're a woman, I'm sure things will settle down! I mean, my mother can be a little critical, but Lillian is just as messy as you, if not worse, and my dad adores her. Besides, he finds your jokes funny.”

“That's because he doesn't know I'm banging his daughter!” Irma exclaimed, huffing. Cornelia blushed a little and rolled her eyes.

“You're being ridiculous. First of all, my parents don't need to know we're having sex.”

“Oh yeah, because that isn't immediately the conclusion they'll jump to when you tell them since we're supposed to be sharing a pull out couch for the trip!”

“We didn't just immediately jump into sex when we got together, if you recall,” Cornelia continued, eyes trained on the road ahead. “I'm sure my parents won't mind us sharing the couch. Besides, I doubt we'd be able to without breaking it, that thing is horribly flimsy.”

“I'm amazed our darling princess Cornelia hasn't protested against the couch more,” Irma remarked, shooting her a playful look. “Remember when we went on vacation together that one summer? We had to force you into a sleeping bag!”

“The guest bedroom only has a single bed, which Lillian is taking, and they weren't expecting us to join them over winter break, so it was the couch either way.”

“Well, when we go on to my place after the first week, we can share my bed. Dad and Anna made me tidy up my room, you'll be pleased to know, and Anna sat me down for a talk about 'being safe, even with a girl'. Which was super fun, by the way.”

Cornelia snorted out a laugh.

“Your cop dad isn't gonna arrest me for propositioning his daughter, is he?”

“Part of him was relieved, actually,” Irma recalled with a gleeful expression. She cleared her throat, doing her best Tom Lair impression. “'I can't say I'm not surprised, but a woman will treat you properly. Men can be animals.' Honest to god, he said that. As if you're the most pristine girl in Heatherfield.”

“He's only relieved because you had such bad taste in men,” Cornelia replied, mouth crinkling upwards mischievously. “I've had the pleasure of getting to know a few gentlemen in my time.”

“Yeah, well, there's a reason I had such bad taste in guys, you know!” Irma retorted. “Every time one would so much as smile at me I got the wrong end of the stick, little did I know.”

“All tall beautiful blondes,” Cornelia mused. Her smile broke out into a grin as bright as the sun outside, and she clasped the wheel with new energy. “My my, Irma Lair, you sure do have a type, don't you?”

Irma blushed to the roots of her hair.

“Oh, come on! This is – this is bullying, harassment, defamation-”

“It's the truth! Remember Andrew Hornby?”

“Oh my god, please don't bring up Andrew Hornby at a time like this.”

Cornelia's eyes twinkled with mischief. “What was it now? You almost exposed yourself as a guardian by sneaking out to a party transformed, wooed Andrew Hornby, and when he tried making a move on you...”

“If you finish this story, I swear to god-”

“That's right! You turned him into a frog!”

Irma, face bright red, butted her head against the window in defeat.

“I'll turn you into a frog if you don't put a sock in it, Corny!”

As their playful bickering continued, Cornelia's phone started to buzz.

“Irma, get that for me,” she ordered, eyes trained on the road.

“Sure, your highness,” Irma drawled, rolling her eyes and reaching for Cornelia's sleek rose gold smartphone. She unlocked it with ease (Irma's birthday, could this girl get any lamer?) and the screen lit up. “Hay Lin's calling.”

“Patch her through, I guess. And put her on speaker!”

Irma swiped and held the phone up, rolling down the window a crack to let some breeze in. The cold was biting, instantly earning a complaint from Cornelia, but it just felt like another authentic piece of Hay Lin that Irma wanted in the car with them at that moment.

“Hey guys! Are you there yet? And is that Karmilla I hear?”

Claim To Closet Fame was on its third loop.

“We still have about four hours to go,” Cornelia supplied, “and Irma, change the damn track already.”

Irma switched it over to the B-side track, Sensual Orientations.

“Hay Lin, I'd just like to announce how hurt I am that you called Cornelia first when I'm your top contact,” Irma declared, hoping her pout could be heard down the phone.

“Irma, I tried your phone but you never picked up!” Hay Lin retorted. There was some shuffling, and her voice sounded slightly further away than before. “Bear with me, I'm moving boxes.”

Irma fished around for her phone, noting the three missed calls with a heavy sigh.

“You're right. I'm just a terrible friend.”

“Nope, you're just terrible at leaving your phone off of silent.”

“Your hidden pink is a weapon; So shoot me into heaven,” sang Karmilla.

“Irma, is this one about sex too?” Cornelia complained.

“Just wait until you get to the pussy rap, Cornelia,” cackled Hay Lin from down the line. “Me and Irma have been practicing in our free time.”

“If we get that far I'll hang up,” Cornelia warned, shaking her head in dismay.

Irma stuck her tongue out, before gleefully turning her attention back to the phone.

“So what's this call about anyway, Hay Lin?”

“I thought you could use a practice model for when you and Cornelia make your big announcement!” Hay Lin chirped. “If Cornelia's parents are as hard to convince as I've been told.”

“When they find out the first thing they'll ask is which one of us is the man in the relationship,” Cornelia deadpanned. Hay Lin burst out laughing.

“Well, of course they're gonna assume it's me,” Irma grumbled, “just because I wear sports bras and read comic books and can burp up to F in the alphabet.”

“Well, hit me with your perfectly crafted coming out speech,” Hay Lin interrupted cheerfully, with a thump as she lowered the boxes. “I'll give you a worst case scenario so you'll feel better!”

“This is never gonna work,” Irma giggled.

“I'm not doing this.”

“Come oooooon,” Hay Lin whinged, and Irma joined in. “Do iiiiit.”

“Fine, fine!” Cornelia exhaled. “Ugh, here goes. Mother, Father, I've been meaning to say this for a while. I'm pansexual. It means that I, that I feel attraction so people regardless of their gender.”

Hay Lin cleared her throat, impersonating Harold Hale to the best of her ability. “Preposterous! Which one's the man and which is the woman, my darling Cornelia?!”

Irma snorted.

“Why would he be asking that if he doesn't know Cornelia's boning me yet?” Irma pointed out.

“Irma!” snapped Cornelia.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hay Lin apologised, undeterred. “Got into the part too much. Let me try again. Ahem. Cornelia, what does this mean? Are you saying you're a... a lesbian?!”

“This is painful,” complained Cornelia. “I refuse to take this any further.”

“So you are a lesbian??”

“Hay Lin!”

“Aw, I'm only teasing,” Hay Lin said cheerily, unapologetic. “They'll be fine once they get past the initial shock of it all. I mean, it's the 21st century! Times are changing! And for all you know, they could be really chill. I mean, my parents used to hate me watching Hell's Kitchen but now they tune into it with me!”

“That's not the same thing and you know it, Hay Lin!” Cornelia snapped. She huffed and took a moment to compose herself. “Anyway, you're probably right. I'm sure things will sort themselves out after the initial shock, and then-”

“Stop, stop!” Irma interrupted suddenly, waving her hand around. Cornelia frowned, eyes darting between her girlfriend and the road ahead.

“What are you-”

“You feel it in your pussy like I feel it in my bones! You investigate my labia like Sherlock Holmes!” chorused Irma and Hay Lin at a deafening volume, as Karmilla began to belt out her rap verse.

“No,” Cornelia snapped. “No, no, we're not doing this, guys, we're not doing this!”

“When you're kissing down my thighs I never felt so high, so do whatever you please, 'cause when I cum I'm gonna fly!”

“ENOUGH!!”

…

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as they pulled up the driveway, not quite sunset yet. After exhausting Karmilla's album Cornelia had switched it to some station playing cheesy 90s hits, which had resulted in a passionate sing-along born out of pure nostalgia for childhood road trips as Irma had taken over the final stretch in the driver's seat.

She awkwardly parked behind Mr Hale's chevy camaro, the speakers blaring out the last few lines of Breakfast At Tiffany's as they sat stationary. Her own car felt a little redundant in comparison.

“Your dad has good taste,” Irma said with a wolf-whistle. “How come he hasn't bought you a car yet?”

“He's waiting for my birthday,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I told him I was interested in a prius. Mom told him that was too pricey for my first car, of course.”

“You have your dad wrapped around your finger, he'll hand it over to you gift-wrapped.” Irma leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, and instinctively Cornelia moved away.

“Irma, please,” she said quietly, a sigh just beyond her lips. “We... we have to be careful.”

Irma rolled her eyes and leaned against the steering wheel.

“I know. Just, don't leave it too late, okay? The sooner you rip off the band-aid the better. At least they'll have the whole of Christmas to get over it, y'know?”

Cornelia nodded, reaching across to squeezed Irma's arm.

“Shall we do this?”

“Christmas break with the Hales,” Irma drawled. “Can't wait.”

Cornelia's parents looked poised and stylish as ever when they answered the door, and Harold wasted no time in sweeping Cornelia up into a tight hug while Elizabeth smiled and nodded poliely at Irma.

“Oh, how have you been, sweetheart?” Harold asked, rocking her a little in his arms. “Any trouble getting here? Feeling all right?”

“Dad, I'm fine,” Cornelia insisted, pulling away slowly. “And the journey went smoothly. Irma picked me up on time and we didn't hit any traffic.”

“Good, that's good.” He patted her shoulder as Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“They're both over twenty now, dear, perfectly capable of getting here in one piece. It's good to see you, Irma. Please allow us to pay you for the fuel, ferrying our daughter over here.”

Irma opened her mouth, but Cornelia cut in quickly.

“Mother, that isn't necessary!”

“Hey, I want some money back if it's up for grabs,” Irma hissed in her ear.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No no, I insist. It's so lovely of you to join us. I was a little worried all of your school friends would be tagging along. We wouldn't have the room, frankly.” Irma glanced at Cornelia.

“They were busy,” Cornelia said quickly. She shifted the suitcase she was holding and Harold instinctively reached for it. “Will and Taranee are studying and Hay Lin's helping her parents.”

“And mystery botanist man couldn't join?” Harold asked with a wink, hoisting the case out of her arms.

Cornelia blushed, refusing to look at Irma, and hurriedly choked out, “No, he could not!”

“Oh Harold, don't tease,” Elizabeth scolded, as he heaved the suitcase inside. “Come inside now, girls, it's chilly out.”

Irma drank in the sight with eyes as wide as saucers. The Hales had a swish set up, the cabin rustic yet elegant, with creams and cornflower blues somehow blending seamlessly with rich reds and golds. It sure beat the beach cabin she and her family visited every summer, that much was for sure. Her dad had a habit of hanging up those dumb singing fish plaques, as opposed to the deer head as a proud centrepiece in the Hales family cabin.

“This place is amazing,” Irma breathed.

“It's something, all right,” Cornelia sighed, a little off put by the hunting trophy herself. “Was that a gift from Uncle Edward, Dad?”

“Sure was! You know what they called me whenever my old man took us hunting? Tree Hugger Harold,” her father said with an awkward chuckle. “Could never bring myself to pull the trigger, myself. He spent a few days here before we made the journey, so we haven't had the chance to take it down yet...”

“Don't take it down, it's cool!” interrupted Lillian, dashing out of the guest bedroom with a scarf in hand. “I want to make him wear this when we decorate!”

“That isn't very tasteful, Lillian,” Elizabeth chastised, but Harold let out a hearty laugh and scooped her up into his arms.

“I suppose he won't have any complaints, will he?”

“You ever heard a disembodied deer head bitch about wearing a snowman scarf?” Irma muttered to Cornelia, who stifled a guffaw behind her hand. She waved hesitantly at Lillian. “Hey there, Lil.”

Lillian gave back a mechanical wave.

“Hi Irma.”

As usual, they had nothing to say to each other. Irma scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

After a beat of awkward silence, Cornelia pulled her over to one side.

“Here, let me take your coat.”

“Your sister is as sociable towards me as always,” Irma joked, shimmying out of her jacket and leaning into Cornelia's touch for a few moments before moving back.

“She's doing that teenager thing where she hates talking to anyone who isn't behind a gaming headset,” Cornelia remarked, hanging the jacket up beside the coats of the other family members. It felt a little like assimilation into the lives of the Hales, and filled Irma with a strange sense of gratitude, even if at the end of the day it only boiled down to them saving a hook for her coat. “Chris must be like that too?”

“Yeah, but he's been that way since he was eight,” pointed out Irma, shaking her head. “Every time I try and worm a conversation out of him he tells me he's busy. You know the PS4 was a gift for both of us?”

Cornelia cracked a grin and pinched Irma's cheek playfully.

“You poor thing. We'll reclaim it when we go to yours, Alchemy mentioned she lent you a few games that I'd enjoy too.”

“Yeah! You like horror, right? There's Until Dawn, Outlast... oh man, and The Evil Within! That one's gory!”

“I don't know about that...”

…

“So, I noticed this place is devoid of decorations,” Irma commented, as they set about laying the table. Dinner was almost ready, and Cornelia's parents were insistent on taking care of the cooking for tonight since they had spent the day driving.

“They have a thing about it being unlucky to decorate unless we're all helping,” Cornelia explained with a sigh, distributing the silverware to each place mat. “We'll start on it tomorrow.”

“Cutting it a little close, don't you think?”

“I wanted to put up the tree days ago but Dad wouldn't let me,” Lillian huffed, sitting herself down and throwing her napkin across her lap before whipping out her phone. She began furiously texting, and Cornelia and Irma exchanged wry smiles.

“I did tell them that they didn't have to wait,” Cornelia said with a shrug, as they took their seats beside one another. “It's not my fault Mom and Dad are superstitious.”

“Wouldn't have pegged them as the type,” Irma remarked. She laced her fingers through Cornelia's, carefully obscured by the tablecloth, and flashed her a cheeky grin. “You don't take after them much, do you, Corny?”

Cornelia squeezed her hand firmly, holding her gaze.

“We lead different lives,” she said simply.

Elizabeth and Harold swept in briskly, setting down dishes of marinated cabbage, roast potatoes and a large portion of roast beef (as if an afterthought, Elizabeth hurriedly brought out a plate of vegetarian sausages for Cornelia). Harold poured everyone a glass of wine, and Irma couldn't help but wonder how Cornelia's parents kept up the gig of acting sophisticated all the time, even in the comfort of their own home.

They murmured a few words of thanks, before plating everyone up.

“So Irma, you're doing a teaching degree?” Elizabeth asked politely, as the family began to tuck in.

“Er, that's right. Not sure what subject I want to teach yet, maybe math or geography...”

“I think that will suit you marvellously,” Harold praised, in between bites of cabbage. “Teachers do far more than set homework, you know. They inspire! They set you upon your life path! Why, if I hadn't had such a passionate math tutor as a young man...”

Irma tuned out, glancing over at Cornelia. They'd gone over her plan multiple times during the drive, to the point where it was practically scripted, but as they sat there munching on potatoes, it became painfully obvious that Cornelia was frozen to the spot, wanting to cling to this moment of her parents' blissful ignorance for as long as she could. It wasn't like she could reach over to hold her hand with Elizabeth watching them both like a hawk, anyway. All she could do at this point was try and push Cornelia in the right direction.

“...and I simply wouldn't be the man I am today if I hadn't followed his advice and gone to the college he'd suggested,” Harold finished with a proud smile.

“Well, the college I'm attending isn't prestigious or anything, but I'm doing pretty well,” Irma said sheepishly, taking a sip of wine. It was dry and bitter, clinging to her tongue like sandpaper.

“That's what counts, my dear. And Cornelia, my sweet girl! How are your classes going? And how is your mystery chap?”

“About that,” Irma began, glancing over at Cornelia nervously.

“Classes are going well,” Cornelia said quickly. “And... he's, um... he's doing well, too.”

Irma gaped at her.

“Well, that's good,” Elizabeth murmured. “Though I do wish you'd tell us more about him. His age? Does he work?”

“We've only been out a few times,” Cornelia said quickly. “There's not much to tell.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Lillian piped up with a sly grin.

“Lillian!” Cornelia snapped.

“Well, talking to you about your boyfriend is like pulling teeth!”

“Stop arguing, you two!”

As the bickering continued, both parents intervening, Irma miserably chewed through her food, knowing the topic wouldn't be broached tonight.

…

After the plates had been cleared and Lillian had retreated to her room, Irma and Cornelia took to sitting out on the porch, staring up at the stars that were so much clearer than from the Heatherfield cityscape. It was freezing out there, their breath visible in puffs, but there was something tranquil about it too. As an added bonus, Cornelia knew her parents wouldn't be able to stand the cold and would grant them some privacy.

“Hey, Corny. I love you.”

Cornelia's eyes flickered over to Irma. She was looking pretty frost-bitten, with only a thin blanket thrown over her lap and cradling a cup of cocoa like a lifeline, but her eyes were filled with a tender warmth that had Cornelia melting instantly.

“Even though I didn't follow through like I promised?” she said softly, self-doubt creeping in as the winter stars twinkled overhead. Irma scoffed.

“Honey, I know a thing or two about how hard it is to say it to your parents. You gotta take it at your own pace.”

“I'll do it tomorrow,” Cornelia promised, mouth pulled into a resolute grimace. “I won't back down.”

“Simmer down, earth guardian, this isn't like going to battle against some otherworldly lizard villain,” Irma teased. “Do this when you're ready, not because you feel like you owe me.” She paused. “Of course, that's something else I love about you. You tackle everything with the same determination. Cramming for exams, kicking alien butt, giving me hickeys...”

“Irma, that was one time!” she admonished, face pink with indignation. She lowered her gaze, cheeks pinkening from more than the cold. “Where's this all coming from?”

Irma shrugged.

“Not sure, really. Could be my heart, but then, my clit's aching, so...”

“Irma!” Cornelia squeaked, reaching over to shove her playfully. Irma erupted into giggles, pushing caramel curls away from her face.

“Hey, I've been waiting months to see you again, and you're telling me we can't even have sex for another week because the fucking camp bed won't be able to stand it. You can't blame me for feeling horny.”

“Self control, please?” Cornelia huffed, but she was smiling. “My parents could be listening in for all you know.”

“Your dad is helping himself to some scotch and your mom is watching Law and Order,” Irma pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I think we're safe.”

“My mother's so nosy, she'll be checking up on us any minute now,” Cornelia continued, taking a sip of cocoa. “Anyway, I love you too. Not that you need reminding.”

“Hey, you're hard to read sometimes,” Irma defended. “And anxiety can be a real bitch. I'm one of those needy types who craves constant validation, you know how it is.”

Cornelia pulled a face.

“Constant validation? I'm not qualified enough. You'll have to demand it from me or I'll never remember to say anything at all.”

“The hell kind of girlfriend are you?” Irma uncrossed her legs and stuck her foot out from beneath the blanket to lightly nudge Cornelia's knee. “Be nice to me, my self-esteem is shit.”

“Though why, I can't imagine,” Cornelia said softly, shaking her head. “I mean, you're beautiful, you're intelligent, you have a wonderful sense of humour, aside from being annoying and inappropriate at times... there's just so many things to like. I can't understand why you'd devalue yourself.”

Irma rested her chin in her hand dreamily. “Well, hot damn. This is why I need you complimenting me all the time, you're a fucking natural at it.”

Cornelia blushed. “It's hardly my fault you're so easy to compliment, is it?”

“Even when you're sassing me it's complimentary,” Irma exclaimed in disbelief, snorting.

She scooted her chair closer to Cornelia's, almost spilling her cocoa in the process, if not for the advantage of Cornelia's telekinesis on their side keeping it in check. She threw the blanket over the both of them and rested her head against Cornelia's shoulder.

“I will tell them,” Cornelia said gently, as they stared up at the sky of stars. “It's not that I'm ashamed of you, Irma. It's just... harder than I thought it would be, now I'm face to face with them.”

“For the last time, Corny, you don't gotta justify yourself,” Irma scolded, pulling her in closer. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I got worked up over something like this? You said it yourself, this is about you, not just our relationship. So stop beating yourself up every two seconds just because you're not sticking to the plan, it's the first damn day!”

Cornelia huffed out a laugh and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Irma's head.

“I love you, dork.”

“I love you, blondie.”

As they huddled under the blanket, basking in the crispness of the cold night air, Elizabeth peered at them through the window. She opened her mouth to speak, but something compelled her to stay silent. Instead she watched, with uncomfortable curiosity, as Irma and Cornelia's hands clasped together.

Wordlessly, she left them to it.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h #cornirma #irmelia #femslash february #cornelia x irma #irma x cornelia #irma/cornelia #cornelia/irma #writing

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