#will I ever be able to draw her looking the same way twice? stay tuned to find out

[eternalalchemagical]

You know what they say: create the toxic fluffy-haired, “scary dog privledge” masc you want to see in the world or something (⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part one

I know, I know. I just finished a story and I started another one and now I’m posting a different one...I’m insane. But I’ve had this idea for a while, just never wrote it down until last night! Enjoy xx.

Also! It’s Bucky x Reader, but it might read as Steve x Reader. I promise it’s platonic!Steve x Reader, though. Steve has no intentions of stealing Bucky’s girl. He knows Bucky would haunt his ass if he did (this is set in The Winter Soldier movie, so Steve still thinks Buck is dead).

Warnings: just some general sadness and angst, mentions of depression, it’s angst city honestly it made me cry

You watch as the old footage replays of Bucky’s wide grin. The only kind of smile that his best friend, Steve Rogers, could draw out of him with one single look or gesture. The only kind of expression that knocks the wind out of your lungs and sends chills down your spine.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable both on schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

You hastily wipe a tear away. It’s been months since you put the pieces together. Months since your parents told you that they had known for years. Months since they told you they didn’t want to tell you because they didn’t want to see you hurt. 

Months since you’ve realized the man you keep seeing in your dreams is Bucky Barnes.

At first, you thought you were crazy. People dream of faces they’ve never seen all the time, right? 

Soulmates are said to be rare, but not nonexistent. You’ve always thought they were real, just that the world was so cynical to really talk about them. The idea that there is one person out there whose soul is connected to yours is exactly the kind of thing that would send this generation walking the other direction with their middle fingers raised and eyes rolling in disbelief.

Then you started remembering your dreams. You started to see his face more clearly. Granted, you had no idea it was Bucky that you were seeing. 

You came to the Smithsonian almost half a year ago now with your best friend. She realized you both had never been before, and she basically said fuck it one day and took you with her. Her exact words were, “How have we gone to college here for a year and a half and we’ve never been to the damn Smithsonian?”

You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate that day. 

Of course, you use the word “meet” very loosely. Your soulmate isn’t alive, which explains the emptiness you feel on a daily. It’s been said that soulmates can feel what the other is feeling. Often times it’s muted, but recognizable. 

You got to see his face, to finally realize that it’s Bucky. The Bucky Barnes. 

It sounds ridiculous — and God, you love your best friend for not calling you pathetic that day — but when you walked up to the very exhibit you’re standing at right now and saw Bucky’s smile...you knew. Instantly, you knew. And it moved you to tears.

It was like your soul had finally found her counterpart, here, grinning like a madman next to his best friend, all the way back in the 1940s. 

Your parents knew simply because of things you would say, offhandedly, without even realizing it. 

Your interest in WWII caught their attention, but it surprisingly didn’t last long -- only from about the time that you turned thirteen to a few months before your fourteenth birthday. You would’ve found Bucky a lot sooner had your interest in the war itself lasted much longer, but it didn’t. You wonder now if you subconsciously knew it was Bucky, but steered yourself away from it in an attempt to save yourself the heartache at such a young age. 

Your taste in music has been the constant that they didn’t quite understand at first. You listen to modern tunes, sure, but you’re a sucker for the music of the 40s. Even clothes. You sometimes found yourself leaning toward the styles of the 40s in subtle ways, not realizing it. 

The true confirmation of their suspicions came, though, when your mom said she heard you say Bucky’s name. The first time was on a road trip. You had fallen asleep in the car. You were sixteen at the time. You were dreaming and you have no recollection of ever saying his name. You weren’t even aware that you said his name while you were dreaming until she confessed that day.

You haven’t told anyone about it. Your best friend doesn’t even know. She still believes you got too excited about seeing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, that’s all. She doesn’t know the real reason, the real aching pain that you feel every day. 

The only thing that eases the ache is this. Hogging this exhibit. Watching the footage over and over again. Watching Bucky’s smile and being unable to hold back your own, despite your tears.

You know the staff must think you’re delusional. Somehow you haven’t cared enough to entertain the thought. But you have seen the security guard give you strange looks when you walk in almost every other day.

It used to not be this bad. You came every day for a few weeks, but then you were able to calm down to once a week, sometimes twice a month, if you were too busy with school to think about Bucky much.

But lately, something has changed. You don’t know what it is. You still feel the emptiness, but something is different. It’s...troubled. That’s all your mind can come up with.

It makes no sense, though. How can Bucky be troubled? He’s dead. You believe in ghosts and all -- you’ve never been given a reason not to -- but you’ve heard more stories than you can count from people whose soulmate has died. They all say the same thing. They felt it when it happened. Because it was like a switch was flipped. They were feeling everything one moment, and the next, it was all gone. Empty.

Empty. How you’ve felt since the day you were born. You’ve been to therapists and they all told you the same thing. It’s just your thinking. Change your thinking processes. You’ve never slipped or spiraled far enough for it to be classified as a depressive disorder or anything else, just...empty.

When you found out about having a soulmate, and even more so when you found out it was Bucky, you still felt empty, but not as much. It was like everything suddenly made perfect sense. The emptiness had a purpose, a reason for existing.

When you see him smile, everything makes perfect sense. You feel like you have a reason to exist.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You slowly drag your eyes away from Bucky, preparing yourself to deal with a disgruntled museum-goer or staff member complaining about how long you’ve been standing here. But that’s not who you see.

He’s wearing a hat, but the resemblance is unmistakable.

Quickly, you glance at the video before looking back to the person beside you. That’s him. Steve Rogers.

“Hi,” you say hesitantly, quietly. He’s obviously hiding, which he is right to do. If anyone got wind of Steve Rogers walking around here, there would be mass chaos.

“Hey,” he replies just as quiet. “Um...Wanna get a coffee?”

You have no idea why he’s asking, but you nod anyway. Who would say no to coffee with Captain America?

Outside the Smithsonian and down the block, you bring Steve to your favorite spot to get coffee. Your best friend turned you onto it when you first got here for college, and you’ve gone here weekly ever since.

After grabbing your coffees, you pick a table far enough away from everyone else on the patio to talk without anyone listening in.

“So, uh…” Steve exhales, shifting in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug, holding onto your cup with both hands. “Why did you ask me to get coffee?”

“You looked familiar,” Steve says, slowly. “What’s your full name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Y/N L/N. Why?”

“Y/N…” Steve mutters under his breath, a crooked smile crossing his face. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Huh?”

“Bucky used to talk to me about you,” Steve continues, and you swear your heart stops. “He had me draw pictures of you. He couldn’t draw for crap, but he kept describing you to me from his dreams. I’ve drawn so many I’d recognize your face anywhere.”

“He dreamt about me?” You whisper. “Really?”

“All the time,” Steve nods, smiling sadly. “So you’re his soulmate?”

“I guess,” you say. “My mom says I used to say his name in my sleep all the time. I dreamt of his face, too, but I never knew it was him. Until my friend took me to the exhibit a few months ago.” You pause. “It sounds stupid. But seeing him there makes me feel...better.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says suddenly. “It can’t be easy being born in a completely different generation.”

You smile softly. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine how hard it is to still be here after all this time. And without your best friend, too.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” Steve admits. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you begin, pausing to think about if you’re going to regret this. “Would you tell me about him? Just anything. It doesn’t have to be anything profound, just...anything you want to talk about. But if it’s too hard, don’t worry about it.” You wave your hands in front of your face, already preparing yourself for Steve to politely turn you down.

But he doesn’t.

“Bucky, he…” Steve pauses, shaking his head. “He was a lot wealthier than me back in the 40s. I had no business acting the way I did, picking fights with people three times my size, but I still did it. And Bucky was always there to pick me up off the ground and give me a ride back home.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle. “You used to be super skinny, right?”

“I was really sick, actually. Bucky had every reason to treat me like anyone else, but he never did. We grew up together -- though I used to joke that he grew up. I stayed the same size. But he never made fun of me for it.”

You can’t help but grin. “That video in the museum -- his smile. I see it in my dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah that was Bucky’s signature grin. He could give any woman that smile and they were his.”

“I can see why,” you admit quietly, averting your eyes when Steve raises his eyebrows. You change subjects, not wanting to talk about how attractive you find Steve’s dead best friend -- despite him being your soulmate. “What was his favorite thing to eat for breakfast?”

Steve takes the bait, and for the next four hours, the two of you sit on the patio, talking about Bucky Barnes. 

His favorite color? Your eyes. Which you think is a little ridiculous, but Steve swears it’s the truth.

His favorite thing to do? Go dancing. Hands down.

His favorite thing to talk about? You. Again, you give Steve a stern look, and again, he swears it’s true. But when he wasn’t talking about you, Steve says Bucky talked a lot about the future. He was an optimist. Steve has no idea how, but Bucky always saw the brightest side.

Bucky was kind. Kinder than a lot of men his age, at the time. He had that blinding smile and instead of hiding it and going for the mysterious, brooding attitude, he chose to smile as much as he could, to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Realizing that the sun is beginning to go down, Steve decides to get you home.

“It’s alright, I can walk,” you tell him, feeling high on everything Bucky. “It’s just up here. I go to college here.”

“At least let me walk you to the campus,” Steve offers.

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Bucky would kill me if I let his girl walk home alone. Especially when it’s getting dark.”

“Fine,” you cave. Hearing Steve refer to you as “Bucky’s girl” sends chills down your spine -- the good kind of chills. The kind that makes you wish it was the 1940s. The kind that makes you wish Bucky was here, holding your hand, walking you home.

Once you reach campus (you decide to let Steve walk you all the way to your dorm building), you ask Steve the question you’ve been wondering about ever since you first saw Bucky in the museum.

“Hey Steve?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Steve turns his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“If this was the 40s...do you-- Do you think I’m the kind of girl Bucky would want?”

Steve’s steps falter. You slow your pace to match his until you’re both stopped, looking at one another.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Yes,” Steve says simply. “Yeah. I do. I know for a fact he would’ve torn down every building until he found you. Because he tried.”

Your breath hitches. Deep down, you had convinced yourself that you weren’t the kind of girl Bucky would want. Not that it’s your fault because you were born this side of the millennium. But to hear Steve tell you otherwise makes you freeze.

“What?”

“Bucky didn’t have me sketch you because he wanted me to practice my drawing. He did it because he wanted to see a picture of you. Something he could keep in his wallet and look at every night. He was a ladies man, yeah, but every single one...he wanted them to be you. But they never were.” Steve shakes his head. “It really tore him up, that he never found you. He still held out hope, though. Until the very last second.”

Tears have sprung to your eyes before you even realize it. 

“Before he fell, he--” Steve pauses. “He told me to promise that I’d find you. I guess I kept my promise after all.”

He looks up to see the tears in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. Without a single word, Steve pulls you into his chest, and without hesitation, you let yourself cry.

He’s not Bucky. And you’ll never find your Bucky, but he’s close enough. Steve promised Bucky that he’d find you, and he kept that promise. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe.

Because he knows for a fact Bucky would’ve wanted that, too.

[the-irish-mayhem]

I don’t know if there are AU fics there about Thor meeting Jane in Asgard instead of his mom in Endgame but... could you write if there are none? Love your writing style btw

I started this in quarantine last April, and here I am a year later finishing it. ANGST AHOY. (and thank youuuuuuuu!)

She’s more beautiful than he remembered. He sees her from behind at first, her small frame swathed in a simple, blue wrap gown. She’s folding her clothes from Midgard, hands deft. She misses Rocket darting behind the small lounge, syringe in hand. 

Thor steps fully into the room, and she must hear him. She calls out, “No, I don’t need any help with my clothing, but thank you for the offer.”

He can’t immediately speak. He means to say something, he... he must’ve had a plan before Rocket shoved him through this doorway? Surely, he’d thought of something clever and suave and charming, something that he would’ve said to her when they’d been together and he could make her laugh. Something he would’ve said before--

Before.

Then she turns and--Norns, she is beautiful.

“Oh, Thor,” she says, and then she smiles. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

His tongue feels thick in his mouth. “Y-you-you, uh--” He swallows and tries again. “You don’t have to apologize. For anything. Ever.”

Her brow furrows. “Hey, are you okay?” She’d always known him so well, hadn’t she? And he’d just--allowed her to slip away. Over two years of living together, years of loving and being loved, and he’d just--

“Thor, what’s wrong?” The sheer concern in her voice as she sets her folded clothing down makes his knees feel weak. Then she’s walking towards him and he doesn’t feel prepared for this moment at all.

Norns, he’d made such a mess of everything, and then he’d never gotten a chance to fix it.

She seems to realize at that moment that he’s not the Thor she knows, and she freezes halfway to him. There’s a small, needy part of him that wants to reach out to her, just feel her touch one more time to remind him of a time before his failure so catastrophically rocked the universe.

The other part, that knows he is on a mission and needs to do this in order to succeed, tries to come up with an excuse or a plan. He had one before he walked in, certainly.

“You--” Jane draws back, adopting a tentative, novice defensive stance, “--are not Thor.”

That’s an easy enough answer. “Well, yes, yes I am.”

Her eyes narrow. “Mm, no. Last I saw him, Thor’s beard was shorter. His hair wasn’t, uh--” She glances at the top of his head, “--that. One of your eyes is brown.” She looks down at him. “If you’re Thor, then where’s your armor?”

“Um. Not. On?”

“Yeah, consider me unconvinced. If you’re Thor,” a clever smile dawns on her face, like she’s just solved a long series of complex equations, “then call Mjolnir.”

“Oh.” He’d somehow forgotten that at this time, he still had Mjolnir. He still had his honor, his courage, his--

He’d been worthy, at this time.

“Jane, that’s--I just--” Thor sees Rocket moving behind her, his arm cocked back and ready to take the infinity stone that flows through her veins. “Rocket, wait!”

Jane’s eyes widen, and she whirls around and screams, “What the fuck is that?”

“Thor, come on!” Rocket exclaims.

“Jane,” he says again, “Please just trust me. We need your help.”

She backs away slowly, trying to keep both Thor and Rocket, with his arm still poised to stab, in her sights.

“That’s a talking raccoon,” she breathes. “I’m talking to a raccoon on an alien planet.”

Rocket protests, but Thor cuts him off. “Jane, please.”

“We need to borrow the Aether for like two seconds,” Rocket says. “The fate of the universe kind of depends on it.”

“Someone better explain to me what the hell is going on and fast,” she says, voice raising to nearly a shout, “or you will not like what happens!”

Thor notices the molecular red and black swirling at her fingertips and in her eyes. If she stays this stressed, she’s liable to explode on them. That might knock her unconscious, and while that might make their task in stealing the Aether from her easier, but he can’t stomach the thought of doing that to her.

“Jane, listen to me,” he says, voice soft, falling back into a familiar pattern of calming her down when she’s upset. “I am Thor, but... not the one you know.” He desperately wants to reach out to her, as was his way when they were together, but he holds himself back. “I promise I am not deceiving you. I know that you cannot carry a tune when you sing in the shower, but you do it anyway. You graduated summa cum laude from Culver and got your first doctorate before you were twenty-two, and you always wondered if you should’ve slowed down to enjoy university life more. You always chew the end of your pen or pencil when you’re working. We had dinner with your mother every other weekend--” He winces a little at that mention. "That--um. I guess that hasn’t... happened yet.”

He sees wheels turning behind her eyes, and there’s something easy here between them, a familiar thread of trust that feels all too good for Thor to pick up again. Her brow furrows slightly as her incredible mind works, and her bottom lip ends up between her teeth.

“You’re saying this is time travel,” she says, matter-of-fact. Like she’s positing a hypothesis with Tony or Darcy in the lab.

He’s missed this. He’s missed her. Norns, has he missed her.

“Oh my god,” Jane breathes, “Time travel.” A massive grin spreads across her face. “It’s possible; I knew it!” Her eyes are alight and Thor is struck with another stab of longing. She’s standing right in front of her and yet he misses her so fiercely. “Tell me everything. How did I do it? I’ve only got some rough schematics drawn up of a wormhole generator, but I bet that’s how it was done. Ha!” She pumps a fist in a small victory motion.

“We’re wasting time, here, loverboy,” Rocket interrupts, his small claws wrapped a little too eagerly around the syringe meant to transport the stone.

“Rocket, shut up,” Thor growls.

She steps closer to him, her eagerness for knowledge shining from her face like a light. “How’d we compensate for the energy? Ooh, and how are you planning on returning to your timeline? Do you have some sort of recall device? How is that powered? Or is it like a yo-yo type of device which sends you for a certain amount of time and then calls you back automatically? That would make sense for why your raccoon friend is in such a hurry.” Her eyes widen a little. “That seems like something I’d do. It would probably be beyond the scope of our capabilities to make a power cell small enough to carry on your person, depending on when you guys came from--”

It comes out of him like pus from lancing an infected wound: “You didn’t do it.”

It breaks his heart a little bit to see her imagination come to a grinding halt, to see the shock and disappointment flood across her features. “I... I didn’t?”

Tears prickle at the back of his eyes. “No. You... no.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He can see her visibly shrink, shoulders caving in and her previous exuberance extinguishing like a snuffed candle.

His chest hurts. He wants to hold her.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks.

“Oh,” she says again, a different note to it this time. “Am I, um... you know. Dead?”

It feels like a punch to the stomach to hear her say it. He can’t voice it out loud. He’d seen her name on the list of known Avengers asset casualties. Her name was chiseled into stone on the Lost Monument in London. He’d only visited in a fit of drunken self-flagellation one time, and once had been more than enough.

Apparently he doesn’t need to say it. Even without years together under her belt, he’s never been particularly subtle nor she particularly obtuse.

“I see,” is all she says, her arms crossing over her chest, one hand coming up to her chin. Her thumb taps her lower lip once. Twice. “How did I die? Old age?” She winces a little. “Something sooner than that?”

Thor’s tongue sits thick in his mouth.

“A bad guy snapped his fingers and killed half the universe,” Rocket says, impatient with Thor’s inability to communicate. “You were part of the unlucky half.”

Jane’s eyes widen. “Snapped... his fingers.”

“Yes,” Rocket grits, “and if we don’t borrow the Aether we won’t be able to bring any of those people back, so if you don’t mind--”

She’s already offering her arm before he finishes his sentence. “Take it. It’s killing me anyway, although--” Jane lets out a harsh chuckle, “--if you’re from a future where I’m killed by a finger-snapping psycho-killer, then I guess I won’t die from this, at least.”

Rocket smiles at Jane and then sends a seething look Thor’s way. “See, Thor, how efficient a little cooperation can make things?”

For how much they struggled with fixing Jane’s Aether affliction in this timeline, it’s almost trivially easy for Rocket to jab the needle into Jane and take the stone. The syringe is specially crafted to draw in and store this particularly finicky stone, but it goes off without a hitch, and when Rocket withdraws the needle, Jane simply covers her now bleeding arm with a hand.

Rocket thanks her, the caustic raccoon strangely polite now that he’s realized what kind of person Jane is, and turns to Thor.

“Time to jet, big boy,” he says.

“Wait,” Thor says, impulse overriding any other judgements, “give me a moment.”

Rocket sighs, and glancing between Jane and Thor, he seems to understand. Given the chance, Thor knows Rocket would want to talk to his family that he lost. Thankfully, it looks like he will afford Thor the same courtesy.

“A moment,” Rocket echoes, a not-so-subtle reminder that they cannot stay here in the safety of the past when they have a job to do. A universe to save. People to bring back.

Rocket exits the room, leaving Thor and Jane alone.

“Do you, um.” Jane’s hands scrunch up the skirt of her dress before she gestures at the couch. “Want to sit?”

As he sits down, Jane follows next to him, so close and warm, he realizes belatedly that he has been dying to talk to someone who loves him. Desperate to talk to someone who knows him on a deeper level than his friends on Earth and New Asgard. (At this time, they’re all alive. His mother, here and hale. Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, likely somewhere nearby and plotting with him on how they’re going to solve the latest challenge. And Jane.)

She asks him a simple, “How long has it been?” and it all spills out of him, a dam overdue to be broken after five years of holding his pain and guilt at bay. He tells her of Ragnarok, the broad strokes of it anyway, losing his friends and his home and Mjolnir, that they’d broken up, Thanos, the stones, the battle they’d lost, the five years of wounded peace, and the chance they now have to fix it.

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” he whispers. “All that suffering and pain because I failed. We found him, and I killed him... but what was the point? We were too late, and I was just an idiot with an axe.”

“I might not know you as well as your Jane does,” she says slowly, “but I know enough to know that you’re no idiot.” She leans into him, looping her elbow around his and reaching for his hand. Their fingers twine, something familiar to Thor but new for her. “Everyone fails at something. That doesn’t make you a failure, it just makes you like everyone else.”

“But I’m supposed to be better.”

She shrugs. “Then prove it. When I first met you, and you failed to get Mjolnir back from the crater site, you didn’t shut down or stop trying. You just...” She sighs. “I don’t really know, but you just decided that you were still going to be better, even if you didn’t have your hammer. You taught me about the realms, you went to Izzy and apologized for smashing her mug,” she chuckles a little at that, “and it probably wasn’t what you wanted, but what I saw then wasn’t a failure. I didn’t fully get it then, but you had literally lost everything--your home, your way of life, your family, Mjolnir and your powers--but you still smiled at us, still kept moving forward when everything was trying to crush you. That’s a hero, if you ask me.”

He swallows, his emotion for this woman threatening to overwhelm him for a few heartbeats. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. She leans back, relaxed and easy.

“You should try to call Mjolnir,” she suggests, so casual and offhand that it nearly knocks him off the couch.

He could, he realizes. Mjolnir is not gone in this timeline, and if they will return the Aether to it’s proper place, Mjolnir can make the trip back just as easily.

He’s spent the last five years proving himself to be a worthless lump of a man, being the exact opposite of what Jane thought him to be, but it isn’t too late for him. It had never felt right, being in the skin of a depressed, lazy drunk who sometimes couldn’t summon the energy to leave his bed or talk to his friends. It hadn’t been him. In fact, he’s felt more like himself since he’d come back to the Avengers for this wild, last-ditch effort to fix what Thanos did than he’s felt in a long time.

The last five years have changed him, certainly, but if Jane can still see the man who’d unflinchingly faced down death as a human man in New Mexico, then he can try to see him to.

Thor stands and reaches out, calling for a presence that had been his constant companion since he was a boy.

He calls, and Mjolnir answers.

Thor smiles.

[lesbian-dp]

Royally Fucked

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,271

Warnings: Misogyny, frustration, bath sex, strap on sex... p sure that's it.

Request: Yah.

Summary: The Queen will always be your world.

A/N: Just an FYI this is obviously set in the medieval times, so the reader is pretending to be a man, bc they’re a Knight. Just wanted to let you guys know that.

18+ ONLY.

“-A woman cannot rule on her own-!”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, near enough seeing your own brain, before you tuned out the dull drawl of the aged man.

His Royal Highness. Howard Stark. A pompous old git, who rules his kingdom with an iron fist. The man, who was currently ranting in front of each kingdom’s officials. All because, he was trying to wed his son, for his own selfish greed. And you. The Queens General and secret lover had to be there to witness it.

“I’m sorry you think that, you Highness.”

Ah! There she was.

A small smile tugged at your lips, hearing her husky voice.

Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, down to where Natalia sat regally beside where you stood.

God.

She was gorgeous.

How you ever got so lucky, is beyond you.

Her red layered dress, lined with the finest gold thread, the world had to offer, pushed her soft perky breasts up. Giving you a fantastic view of them, from where you stood above her. Your agile eyes were soon drawn to her plump, moving lips. Watching Natalia’s plump, moving lips. Watching them intently, remembering the look of them clasped around the crystal toy strapped around your hips. And the way they felt gliding across your wet core. How soft they were against your own lips. Moaning into your mouth, in a telltale way of what was about to come undone.

Spoiler alert! It was you guys!

Realising you had probably been staring at her beautiful self for minutes too long. You repositioned yourself, placing a hand upon the hilt of your sword, and staring blankly at the wall of the meeting room, in front of you. The door within your eyesight, able to see any and all newcomers, should they arrive.

“However, I would like to remind you of which of us are in their bankruptcy.”

“How dare you-?!” His face grew red with rage, light grey moustache and hair clashing, terribly, with the raspberry hue it had taken on.

“Watch your tone while you are speaking to the Queen,” you ordered.

“And I’d watch your tongue!” the King argued back.

Natalia placed her hand gently upon your leather-bound arm, just as you opened your mouth to shout a reply. Glancing down at the red-headed Queen, she shook her head, and you knew to hold your tongue.

“I’d rethink about who you appointed to be your head Knight. They’re obviously lacking in some basic training.”

“With all due respect, your Highness,” Natasha began, an entirely fake smile drawn upon her face, “My General is of the highest order. They live by the highest standards. And I respect them and their opinion. I can’t help it if you expect everyone but yourself to watch how they speak.”

“Now, General?”

You turned to face Natalia. “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Would you be so kind, as to personally escort King Howard from the castle. I think we have all heard enough for one morning.”

“It would be my pleasure.” You gave her a half bow, before moving towards the infuriated man.

***

Huffing, you slammed the door to the quarters the Queen had “gifted” you with. Reasoning that it would be better for her safety, if you were close by, in the castle. The royal quarters being only a few doors down from your own.

You kicked off your dirt-covered boots, as you threw your ornated sword across the room, and into the wall, in frustration.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

The voice to your side made you snap your attention to it. You knew that voice. You loved that voice.

There she sat.

The Queen.

Her legs were crossed, hands folded upon them. Watching you from her place on your bed.

“That sword was very expensive. And a gift from myself, if I might add,” Natalia said, the corner of her lip up turning slightly, as she cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. Taking a step towards the red-headed Queen, you said, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

She waved you off.

“I don’t care about the sword,” she said, “I care about what has gotten you in such a foul mood,” Natalia finished with a pout.

You knew how bad she wanted to make you feel better. How much she hated seeing you any other way, but happy.

“They’re incompetent fools.”

Natalia smiled at this.

“The Trainies?”

“Oh, no!” You shook your head. The memories of your day, attacking your mind. “Not just the trainees- If anything, they’re better than most of the men we have now.”

The Queen stayed silent as you spoke. Listening to you intently, her face the only give to any reactions. Namely being a tick of an eyebrow, sometimes even both, and a roll of her eyes.

You drew closer to the beauty that is the woman you have devoted your life to serve. And now to love. However secret that may be.

“I swear. If we ever have the unfortunate luck as to be thrust headfirst into a war... I am afraid we might not survive.”

It was quiet for a moment, as the Queen debated her words. Right now, she was not Natalia, your Natalia. The woman who told you she loved you at the dead of night. The one who called out your name during the throngs of passion. The one who was soft to touch. Who’s skin was perfectly smooth against yours.

No.

This was the Queen.

All business, and took no shit.

The woman who did what she had too for the good of her kingdom, to keep her people safe.

“What do you need?” she asked, finally.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, now only a step away from her, “Time?” you asked simply. Before breaking out of your stress-induced trance. And closing the distance between you and Natalia. Placing a gentle, but firm hand upon her shoulder, you said, “But let’s not think about that now...” You leaned down, to be eye level with her. “I want to spend some time with, my Natalia.”

The Queen smirked at what you called her, it quickly turning into a soft smile.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Good.”

And with that, you lifted the shorter woman up into your arms, beginning to make your way out of the room.

“Now, I think, after the long day we’ve both had, we deserve a bath.”

***

The water was a milky white, red rose petals floating upon the calming water. The same water that swayed with every movement.

Gasps and moans filled the air, as the wet red-head bounced upon the blue crystal that was almost always strapped against your hips.

You said because it helped in making people believe you were one of the opposite gender. But mainly it was because of how much you love the availability to take the beautiful Queen, whenever, and wherever you two so wanted.

One of your bedchambers.

The throne room.

The dining room.

A random palace hallway.

Hell.

Even in the royal courtyard, if you so wished.

You watched Natalia’s silky wet body move on your lap. The water gliding against her body, her hair wet, and nipples pert. With your hands on her hips, helping her chase bliss. Then continuing to slide along her glistening body, pulling her closer to you.

Natalia panted as you left open-mouthed kisses all along her neck, them travelling up to her cheek, and finally her full lips.

With your arms wrapped tightly around her, one around her smooth shoulders, and your other around her waist. Pressing her against your body, as you kissed her earnestly, pouring everything you felt for the queen into that one kiss. Natalia’s arms wrapped around your neck, as she fucked herself onto you, kissing you the very same way.

“The bath’s starting to get cold,” you mumbled against her mouth.

“Then we should hurry, so that we can go to bed.”

“To sleep? Or...?” You rose your eyebrows. Once. Twice. To convey what you meant.

“Or.”

You smiled brightly at her.

Your lips were around her nipple in the very next second, sucking with enough power to make the Queen cry out. Causing her to buck her hips into your lap, faster than ever. Riding you like one would upon a station, on a long journey. Chasing her realise.

She jumped back in surprise when your hand connected with her small bud, rubbing away at it, but she soon continued to drive the object deep within her “sinful” hole.

It was not long after when she cried out in pleasure. Throwing her head back and crying out to the Gods.

Once Natalia had recovered, merely breathing heavy, with her head tucked into the side of your neck, you spoke.

“Let’s get to bed. Huh?”

***

Sat upon your calves the royal silky sheets rumpled beside you. Natalia’s legs thrown over your hips, and your hands gripping hers. Rutting into her. Drawing out her beautiful sounds.

How the powerful Queen could be reduced to this, you did not know.

You were only thankful that she chose you to reveal this secret side of herself too. Knowing how closed off she was to the world. If she even showed a thread of emotion, like she wanted too, on many occasions, other than her cold and calculated, yet caring self. The surrounding kingdoms would be out for blood.

More than they already were, that is.

“My lord, Natalia,” you husked, “You are beautiful.”

And she was.

She was beautiful, no matter what.

But right now, she was especially stunning.

With her hands gripping yours on her hips, her flushed chest rocking with each of your thrusts. The sweat, and remaining bathwater, making her body shine like the sun. Her mouth parted and gasping, and her eyes heavy-lidded.

You could go on and on about all the things you loved about the woman below you. For an eternity if you could. However, you were in the middle of something, as Natalia reminded you.

“I’m all yours, Y/N,” she spoke softly, “No one could ever compare to you.”

“Nor you, my love.”

Your hands on her hips tightened slightly. Helping her to lay in her stomach, Natalia moving to grip tightly on the silky pillow, pressing her face against it.

Her legs straddled tightly against yours, ass in plain view. The crystal resting on Natalia’s slick, wanting heat.

Groaning softly, you spoke, “There are no words in this world or the next, that could convey how much I truly do love you.”

The Queen hummed softly at your admission, her shoulders moving, and then relaxing with a sigh.

Your hands gently brushed down her silky back, until they reached her ass, caressing the plump asset.

“You were crafted by the God’s,” you said, adoration clear in your voice.

“Then why don’t you make me see them?” she replied, smirk upon her face, as she wiggled her ass to tempt you. The toy rubbing against her core.

And she did tempt you.

Of course, she did.

Pressing down on the crystal, you watched as it steadily disappeared into your loves throbbing head. Natalia moaned, as inch by inch, it vanished within her. Brushing against every crevice, drawing her high-pitched whines when it hit the special parts within her, bringing the Queen utmost pleasure.

With your hands now on her ribs, you slowly started to thrust into her. Working in drawing moans from her.

“Oh, God!” Natalia cried.

“Can you see them yet?” you asked playfully.

“Not quite,” she replied, matching your pants, as she backed herself u onto the toy you fucked her with.

“Guess I’ll just have to go harder.”

The bed was creaking below you, as you worked harder to pound into the woman you loved. Natalia's grip on the white pillow, patterned with red, tightened as cries poured from some unknown place, deep within her.

“Fuck! I love you, baby!”

“I love you, too, Natalia.”

She was close. She was oh so close. You could feel it every time you moved. Every time you pulled the crystal from her depths, only to push it back in, with vigour. It getting harder and harder to do.

“You’re close,” You stated.

Natalia nodded vigorously in agreement. Going to bite against the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” you told her, “I want to hear you, when you arrive.”

At your request, Natalia unclenched her teeth and allowed the pleasure-filled noises to pour from her mouth.

One of her hands snapped to one of yours that lay on her ribs, it surely leaving light bruises in their wake. Gripping at your hand, as she got closer to her much-anticipated release.

You couldn’t pull your gaze from her pleasure-filled face. Her hair sticking to her forehead, and around her ears. You knew that this would be her last orgasm, for a little while.

Pressing kisses against Natalia’s neck, jaw, and cheek. She came with a powerful cry. The hand not holding yours, came to grip the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair, as her insides tightened around the toy.

You let her ride out her realise before you pulled from her.

With a tried sigh, you flopped down on the luxurious bed, besides the blissed-out royal.

“How you doing there?” Natalia nodded at you. As to say she was okay.

She came to cuddle into your chest.

Your hand was combing through her slightly damp, sex mused hair when the Queen spoke.

“I think it’s about time we came clean to everyone, about our relationship.”

“What?” you asked, shocked.

“Marry me.”

[little-igit]

Crimson Roses

𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖘

Last Chapter

A/N:  Hey!! I still can't believe that I dreamt all of this- obviously not every detail but the basic plot of it. I was about to have surgery when I originally finished this chapter the update on that is good! I'm healed and everything! I do headcannons and things too by the way! I just haven't posted any yet! I do headcannons, roleplay, fanfiction obviously, I draw sometimes. I don’t bite so if you want to message me and say hi I don’t mind! I encourage it actually! Thanks to anyone who reads and comments, I'll talk to you all next chapter.

Here is a little key you might need before you start!

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Little Sisters Name(If you are an only child make one up!)

H/C - Your Hair Color

Summary: You have an odd dream on the plane that leaves you feeling worse than before. On the other hand you are one step closer to your sister!

Warnings Of The Chapter: None but if I missed something tell me!

~

Y/N sits in her seat, the plane had taken off a few moments before. She would be sitting there for thirteen hours and she was already tired of it. The roar of the plane’s engines as it flew through the air sounded more like an incessant humming as it was muffled by the wings cutting through the air. She closed her eyes in an attempt to relax, possibly even sleep. The sound of the plain only grew louder as she tried to get comfortable without disturbing anyone. The wings were like knives slicing through the atmosphere as the big hunk of metal was propelled through the air.

It's safe to say that she isn't a fan of flying. She can admit that it isn't the worst thing in the world but the thought that there's a chance they could randomly start plummeting towards the earth from thousands of miles above haunts her just a little. Granted the tendency to overthinking doesn't help that. 

It isn't all bad though. The dim lights of the cabin combat against everything else going on, in and outside of her mind, helping her feel tired when everything else acts like it wants to keep her awake. She ends up curled in an odd position, facing the closed window that she had unfortunately been put next to. She wouldn't open it until they had been up for a while and she felt safe in the air. That is unless she felt stuffy and wanted to see the outdoors to help with that.

The longer she stares blankly at the white surface keeping her view from the outside world the calmer she starts to feel, though it could always be the dull vibrations of the plane causing her to calm down. With time her eyes start to close, body relaxing, eyelids growing too heavy as she drifts off to sleep.

When she opened her eyes everything was dark. An endless void of nothing for her to stare into forevermore. She wasn't on the plane anymore but she didn't care. The darkness felt oddly comforting.

She doesn't know how long she was staring into the nothing until she heard the sound of a drop of water crashing into a puddle behind her. The sound was a miracle reminding her she was still alive, that she IS something. It echoed for a moment, The sound beautiful like a piano key.

The sound had barely enough time to echo before she spun around to face it. Instead of looking at a measly puddle on the ground, she found herself face to face with the most elegant mirror she had ever seen.

Is stood tall enough so that all of her could be seen, her feet carried her towards it, stopping her directly in front of it. It was drawing her in like a moth to the flame. Her feet touched something wet, surprising her yet she didn't flinch, drawing her attention to the ground as well as the fact that she had no shoes on.

There was a puddle, like what she had expected to see first instead of the mirror. It was admittedly smaller than what's she thought it would be, maybe the size of her hand, by the sound the drop made but a puddle nonetheless.

The puddle gave her no entertainment and she quickly found herself bringing her gaze back up to the mirror. Her heart dropped, there were six pairs of legs standing behind her own. She felt like she should be panicked, and a part of her was, but the darkness kept her feeling safe. She needed to see who it was, or maybe she didn't, but her head started to move to see without her realizing it. It was like she wasn't the one in control, merely looking through someone else's eyes. The people behind her were all dressed nicely from head to toe but she didn't get to have a good look at any of them, as soon as she was able to meet one of their eyes they all disappeared. Like they were never there.

Another drop, she saw it this time. It was hard to make out but the reflective shine on the otherwise clear droplet, despite the fact that there wasn't any light shining anywhere from what she could tell, gave it away. Her eyes followed its path. Just as it hit the ground, giving off the same odd echo as before, though, this time a lot less like the miracle it seemed to be before, her eyes snapped open.

She had been sleeping. It had all been but a dream. She woke up to the ding from the speakers above them on the plane. She still felt calm thanks to the dream, but she was glad to be awake. The pilot's voice, or one of the flight attendants, she didn't care enough to know which, came over the loudspeaker. "Attention everyone we will be landing shortly please make sure to have your seatbelts on, and thank you for flying with us today!" The flight attendant started to repeat the phrase in Japanese given that's where they were landing, even if she could understand what they were saying she didn't want to listen to it twice so she tuned it out the second time.

Y/N straightened out from her, slightly less, balled up position than when she had fallen asleep, and clipped her seatbelt on before letting out a sigh. Had she slept that long? It didn't feel like she had but then again dreams always feel short. Maybe she had stared into the inky blackness longer than she originally thought she was when it was happening. That could have definitely messed with her sense of time. She hasn't been this confused waking up since she was little, seven maybe? It was before she started school but it could have been earlier.

She sighs, bracing herself for landing as she feels herself lean forward involuntarily in her seat. The plain starts descending as she feels the need to pop her ears every few seconds. She's reminded why flying isn't one of her favorite things. She shuts her eyes, using her armrests to push herself back up against the seat. It was much less comfortable than it was when she was asleep and she briefly wonders how she fell asleep in the first place.

She doesn't know how many seconds she stayed like that until she's jostled in her seat, the plane touching the runway making everyone bounce slightly. Everything is bumpy for a while as the plane slows down, leveling itself on the pavement until it's rolling along like an oversized car. She opens her eyes then, still not comfortable but not as uncomfortable as before…knowing they aren't in the air helps.

Finally, after thirteen whole hours, she can't believe she slept through and can't really remember the plane lands, stopping completely. Everyone starts to grab their bags but she stays seated waiting for the cabin to empty a little. She starts to gather her own things as soon as she feels she can walk into the Isle without hitting someone. She takes her carry-on bag from the overhead compartment that had mostly been filled with snacks.

She walks out into the Isle muttering 'excuse me's as she passes others trying to enter the Isle. Everyone rushing out excited to be on the ground again and out of the plane.

She still can't believe she slept for the whole flight. It's not new for her to sleep for a long time, she's used to waking up around noon. That's usually because she stays up late though and she would wake up in the middle of the night. She's never been able to sleep soundly throughout the night as she had slept on the plane. She would always wake up at least once. But she hadn't, and if she did she didn't remember which might scare her more than just not having done so.

She paused in her steps, looking around after she was out of the plane and the loading area. She was somewhere in the airport but she didn't know where. She should have been paying attention to where she was going as she walked. 

She starts to walk again, looking for a sign of some type that might tell her where she is or better yet where to go. She found a map of the airport pretty easily as they tend to be all over the place. She studies it for a moment before following its directions straight to baggage claim. She doesn't know which one she's supposed to be at thanks to her not paying attention. This one seems right, she recognizes a few faces from the plane. She maneuvers her way near the front of the cloud excusing herself as she goes, waiting for her bag to come around.

She spots it easily, a Disney themed suitcase her mom bought on one of the few Disney trips she's been on. She grabs it and walks out of the way of everyone else to extend the handle so that it can roll along easily behind her. She takes a moment after that to type the location of the camp into her phone mapping services. So that she could have it ready. She grimaces as she sees how far away it is. She wouldn't want to bother with trying to find some public transportation that goes that far. She'll have to rent a car then…something she's never done that's for sure.

She leaves her spot, finding another map and studying it again before following it to a car rental place. She stands outside of it for a bit watching what everyone else does out of habit before walking up to the desk herself. She hopes someone speaks English because although she can understand it she hasn't actually had to speak Japanese in a long time.

The process is awkward and lengthy, even after they explained what she needed to do to get a car. She still doesn't really know what she's doing so that does nothing for her. It might even be the reason she takes so long.

After everything is said and done she finds herself standing in front of the airport with keys to a pretty nice car, though not an expensive one, in her hands. Before she gets in she opens the trunk, dumping her suitcase inside. She shuts it again, keeping her bag of snacks on her. She takes a second before she gets in to just stand and stare. She takes out her phone charger finding a place to plug it in. The one requirement she had when renting the car was that it had a place to plug in her phone as there was no way it would survive all the way to the camp without it.

When it's all set up she uses google to bring up directions to the camp. With all of that done, she starts to drive.

Next chapter(in the works)

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Ladies Love a Hero | Peter Parker

summary: Y/n builds a device that will help the Avengers win a battle and Peter is charged with protecting her while she uses it.

category: fluff

_____________________

          “So that’s your big plan? Keep shooting at it’s invulnerable skin until something happens?” Steve asked, pausing in his pacing to give his teammate an exasperated look.

          “It’s not completely invulnerable. One of my arrows nicked it,” Clint defended his weak plan, but it was the only plan they had so far. “Unless you can come up with a better one.”

          This had been going on for the past half hour and Peter was about to jump out the window. Everyone bickering and shooting down ideas faster than they came up. At this point he was just plain tired of the giant interdimensional monster that kept popping up and wreaking havoc on the city. It had everyone on edge and Peter just wanted this meeting to be over so that he could go see Y/n. 

          He happily tuned out the Avengers’ arguments to think about Y/n. She was incredibly smart, which was a given since she was one of the top scientists at Stark Industries and she was only Peter’s age. And she was beautiful. The first time Peter met her she was hunched over a microscope and when she stood up to look at him... he couldn’t breathe. Since then he came up with every excuse he could to go talk to her, even though most of the time he was too nervous to get more than a few words out.

          Tony noticed the dreamy look Peter only got when he was thinking about Y/n and rolled his eyes.

          “Hey, lover boy,” Tony snapped in Peter’s direction and made him jump. “National crisis here.” 

          Peter flushed as red as his suit and muttered an apology before the conversation continued without him. 

          “Well, we need to make a decision now, that thing could come back at any minute.” 

          “I’ve got it!” Everyone’s attention turned to the door bursting open and a frenzied Y/n running in. Her hair was a mess and her lab coat was crooked and she had never looked more beautiful to Peter. 

          “What is it?” Tony took the device from Y/n’s outstretched hand and inspected it.

          “The key to beating this thing,” Y/n declared, out of breath. Everyone gave her their undivided attention, especially Peter, but only because he was interested in how to kill the monster, of course. “I studied the sample of what we thought was blood from Hawkeye’s arrow and discovered that it’s not the skin that is impenetrable, but a thin force field that acts as an armor. Then I engineered this thing,” she points at the small devise in Tony’s hand and he gives it back to her. “It’s like an EMP but instead of electronics it only targets that specific type of organic material and when it’s turned on it can wipe out the force field and boom it’s killable.” 

          The room was in stunned silence and Peter fought the urge to clap. Tony didn’t shower her in the praise Peter knew she deserved but the proud look in his eyes and small smirk on his face was all y/n needed.

          “What’s its range?” he asked.

          “The prototype only has a mile or two radius of maximum effectiveness but with a little more time I could get it to-.”

          Y/n didn’t get to finish her sentence before the tower shook, signaling the emergence of Mr. Big Bad in the city. 

          “No time for that, we’ll have to make do. How do you turn it on?” 

          Y/n answer was too complicated for Peter to understand but he didn’t like the grim look on Tony’s face. 

           “You’ll have to set it off yourself. We don’t have time for a crash course.”

          “She can’t go out there!” Peter’s outburst surprised the team since it was the first thing he’d said all night. 

          “She’s the only one who can turn on the device, we need her,” Tony’s answer was calm and distantly Peter knew it was the only way, but he couldn’t get past the idea of putting Y/n so close the the fight.

          “Within a mile of the alien? That thing can topple buildings twice as far with one swing we can’t just send her out there unprotected.” 

          “She won’t be unprotected, she’ll have you.” Tony stated and Peter couldn’t form an argument. “Y/n go get a carrier for that thing and meet Peter on the hanger.”

          “Yes, sir,” she said before hurrying off.

          Peter turned his gaze back on Tony who looked way too calm for what the situation called for.

          “You can do this, Peter, just take her to a rooftop in range and keep her from getting killed.” Tony knew how much Peter cared about Y/n and saw how this plan was freaking him out, so he winked and added conspiratorially, “And hey, the ladies love a hero.”

          This had the desired affect and Peter was shaken from hits fears and into a blushing mess as he tried to stutter out objections, but Tony wasn’t hearing it so Peter just left.

          When Peter, or rather Spiderman, walked onto the hanger he spotted Y/n making sure the carrier was secure across her shoulders and his nerves returned. 

          “Ready?” He asked and wasn’t sure whether he was, but her complete confidence in him made him feel like he could do anything.

          She stepped close to him. He tried to casually wrap his arm around her and was thankful that his mask hid his blush when she did the same. Y/n pulled him tight to her and nodded. “Ready.” 

          Peter never wanted this to end, he didn’t want Y/n to let go of him. Although he liked to think that she enjoyed being this close to him, her smile was most likely caused by swinging through the city.

          After they landed on a rooftop in range of the fighting, Y/n untangled her arms from around Peter’s neck, but he held onto her a little longer when she stumbled. 

          “You good?” He let go of her when she was stable.

          “Yeah,” she laughed. “Just takes some getting used to.”

          “Where should we set it up?” They surveyed the rooftop and Y/n hurried over to a radiator and gingerly set the device on it. 

          “Once this thing’s on it’ll only take a couple minutes to completely disarm the shield.” That raised some red flags for Peter.

          "Will it be able to trace it back to us?" They were only a mile away from the fight and that thing could easily close the distance fast.

          "We'll just have to hope that they can kill it before it does." That was reassuring.

          Y/n started the process of turning it on and Peter divided his attention between her and the fight. The team was doing a good job of keeping the monster from coming towards them but also not pushing it too far away. However it was clear that the thing didn't like being cornered since it was thrashing around more wildly than before.

          "There!" Peter looked back at the device that now had a green light on its screen. "It'll only be a little bit now before the alien realizes what's happening.”

         “Got it.” Peter began to survey his options for a hasty getaway. 

          A thunderous roar shook the ground and consequently the roof they were standing on and the alien started ripping up chunks of the roads to throw.

          “I think it’s working,” Peter stated, an intuitive observation. They watched as the Avengers took notice of their signal and doubled their attacks, striking the increasingly vulnerable monster with an array of blasts, punches, and arrows. Peter even let out a breath of relief when he saw the monster slowing down, but he jinxed it and instead of the monster focusing on fighting back, its attention moved to the source of its shield’s failure. Namely, them.

          “Incoming.” Peter rushed back over to Y/n. “We gotta go.”

          Y/n had only just stood up when Peter tackled her back down onto the roof just as a car flew over them. She looked up at Peter who was still on top of her, pressing her back into the roof surface of the roof, but she didn’t mind. She wished that he had his mask off so that she could be staring into his actual eyes instead of his suit ones. 

          “S-sorry,” he muttered when he belatedly got up off of her, mentally cursing himself for being such an idiot. Y/n must think he’s the weirdest creep ever, just pinning her down like that in the middle of a mission. He glanced back to her and was surprised by the red that was on her cheeks. She made a show of dusting herself off and checking on the device while Peter just stood there confused. 

          “Shit, the impact of the car messed with its sensors, it has to recalibrate.” She set to work on facilitating that process.  

          “Y/n that thing is going to be on us any second.” Peter’s attention was glued to the fight that was drawing ever nearer. Even if they managed to kill the beast before it reached them, the fall of its body could easily take out their building. “The damage has been done, let’s go.” 

          But even as he said it he could see the shield mending itself. The reinforced armor gave the alien a second wind and Peter winced as Iron Man got swatted out of the sky. Once that distraction was out of the way, its attention turned back towards them.

          “Y/n…” Peter warned as he walked backwards to her, careful to keep his attention on the beast.

          “It’s almost fixed.” The stern tone of her voice and the determined look on her face was almost a mirror image of the one Tony got when Peter knew better than to press the subject, but he was supposed to protect Y/n and he’d be damned if he didn’t. 

          “It’s my job to knock out the shield.” She refused to look away from the device but her glare was directed at him. “I’m not leaving.”

          “And it’s my job to keep you from getting hurt and you are not making that easy right now.” He crossed his arms and watched the fight, but didn’t move from her side. His head was screaming at him to get her to safety but he knew that she was right. They had to get that stupid device functioning so that the rest of the team could do their job. Still, he didn’t like just standing there and waiting for disaster. Every move the monster made towards them had Peter flinching to just grab Y/n and swing away whether she liked it or not.

          “Got it!” Peter didn’t need her to tell him that though, the scream coming from the alien was notifying enough.

          “Good now let’s go.” 

          Y/n was still hesitant to leave but she stood up and faced him.“You go, I should stay and make sure it doesn’t get damaged again.”

          “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

          “Then I guess we’re both staying.”

          “Dammit Y/n this is not up for debate. We have to go now!”

          Their argument distracted them both from the battle. It was only when Peter’s spider sense kicked into action that he crushed Y/n to his chest and turned them around so that the chunk of concrete flying their way hit him instead of her. The pair was knocked off their feet and Y/n rolled away from where Peter lay unmoving.

          “Peter?” Y/n called once she recovered from having the wind knocked out of her. She propped herself up on her elbows but quickly snatched them up, hissing from the sting of scapes along her arms. The ringing in her ears aided in her disorientation as she looked around, but when her eyes landed on Peter she ignored the protests from her cuts and ran over to him. “Peter!”

          She rolled him onto his back and gently took his mask off. His eyes were closed and his body limp. She nearly sobbed in relief when she saw that he was still breathing, albeit barely, and cupped his cheek to bring his face over to her.

          “Y/n…” he whispered and it brought on a coughing fit.

          “Careful, you idiot,” she smiled through her tears when his eyes opened. “Who knows how many ribs you broke.”

          His hand raised weakly to her cheek and she held it there for him. He gave her a small smile as his thumb wiped away a tear.

          “I’m sorry,” Y/n said, blaming herself for his injuries. “I should have gone with you. I-I shouldn’t have tried to-.”

          “Hey.” Y/n expected him to say something along the lines of ‘it wasn’t your fault’ or ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’ What she got instead was, “I told you so.”

          Y/n’s jaw dropped at the audacity of this boy. 

          “Are you kidding me? I’m sitting here crying because I thought you were dead and you have the nerve to say ‘I told you so’?” She fires at him and he scrunches up his face in an annoyingly adorable way.

          “But I did…” This time Y/n just laughed and let all the tension leave her body, grateful that she was still able to see him smile.

          “Shut up,” she laughed as she leaned down to his face. She gently pressed her lips to his and Peter forgot all about his broken and bruised body, and when he heard the Avengers finally defeat the alien he was able to fully lose himself in her kiss. The kiss that he had dreamed about for so long. 

          When they finally parted to breathe, Y/n rested her forehead against his and he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

          “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Hearing those words come from Y/n almost made him laugh in disbelief, if only laughing wouldn’t have hurt so bad. To think that Y/n, the smartest and prettiest girl he knew (he would even argue on the planet) had wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He had pined after her for forever, never thinking that he had a chance, and here she was.

          “I think I might have an idea,” he muttered and pulled her back down for another kiss.  

[margridarnauds]

Hey there loving your blog! If I'm not imposing too much, can you talk about tohobeth? Any version and anything at all!

I ALWAYS have time to talk Tohobeth. Since I feel like it would be unfair to talk about productions I haven’t personally seen, I’m going to keep my discussion mainly to the 2015-2016 production, since I have the DVD on it. My views on it aren’t as solid as they are on, say, 1789 or MA, mainly because, somewhat embarrassingly, I only got my DVD AFTER I left the States, with my mom scanning the files in and sending them on to me via GDrives. And, with my Master’s program....well. I’ve not been able to watch it anywhere near to where I usually do before forming hard opinions. (Generally speaking, it takes about....six months or so for me to REALLY settle into my opinions, though, as you can see re: Lady Bess, there are a few times where my opinions are still variable after years.) 

It’s a fact well known at this point that I’m not the biggest Hanafusa Mari fan in the world, and it’s also a fact that she was recorded as Elisabeth twice, as opposed to Hana Ranno, who was double-cast in the role with her, getting a DVD of her own. Was I happy about this? No. Whenever I see Hana Ranno footage on Youtube, I feel this sort of ache in my chest because I REALLY would have loved to see her Toho Elisabeth. Maybe she wouldn’t have been a personal fave, maybe I would have actively hated her performance, but as it is, she’s acquired a semi-mythical significance to me now as The One That Fell Into Oblivion. 

Such a pity she couldn’t show up on the DVD. Such a pity. 

Part of why I’m so scathing, of course, is that I tend to REALLY like getting both casts so that I can see the differences between performers, and, with a musical called “Elisabeth” that obviously has Elisabeth as a protagonist...it can almost feel like getting half of what I normally get. It’s still good, I still do recommend the DVD, obviously, but also if I could go back in time to talk to some Toho execs and be like “Look, guys.....record both Sisis.” 

Now, I come not to bury Hanafusa Mari, but to praise Tohobeth, so I won’t be too far on the attack here especially since, to be perfectly fair, I feel like Elisabeth is the single best Toho performance of hers I’ve seen (between Mozart, Lady Bess, Marie Antoinette, and Elisabeth). She’s been playing the role since 1996, so she has very much fine-tuned her interpretation at this point, and there are MANY people who feel like she’s the definitive Japanese Elisabeth. This is the role, more than any other single role, that made her a legend in the industry. I personally feel like she REALLY starts hitting her stride about midway through the first act and, by the start of the second act, she’s at her peak performance. The role of Elisabeth is very challenging for any actress; most Elisabeths are drawn to one of the three stages of Elisabeth’s life that we see - Some of them are very good at playing 15 year old Elisabeth, some the Young Wife/Empress, and some the older, bitter Elisabeth, and, personally, I feel like Hanafusa is best in the latter role. As an actress, she very clearly feels a draw to sadness and mourning (in both Lady Bess and Marie Antoinette, she took the sadder interpretation of both characters she played, as opposed to her costars, who separated between the low points and the high points of their lives) and Older Elisabeth gives her the chance to stay in her comfort zone. Unfortunately, when it comes to Younger Elisabeth, especially in the very beginning, I find that she can age revert herself a little TOO much, so that she plays Elisabeth-at-15 as Elisabeth-at-8, which makes her interactions with both Der Tod and Franz Josef a little bit on the uncomfortable side. 

A personal highlight for Yoshio!Tod for me is his Die Schatten Länger in the first act, where he goes from sympathetic to seductive to sinister and then back to seductive. It’s an impressive performance of one of my favorite moments, if not my ULTIMATE favorite moment of the entire musical, and he does it so effortlessly. Watching him....he reminds me a little of Uwe Kröger? He isn’t quite as aloof and ageless as 1992!Der Tod, but looking at him in the role, I do get this vision of this otherworldly entity. He has this kind of floating, ethereal voice that we tend to associate with the classical Phantom of the Operas, with a very nice, smooth lower range in particular. I do also like his dynamic with Hanafusa Mari during “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will” -- She isn’t as reactive as some Elisabeths that I’ve seen, but I do still get the feeling of the two of them acting and reacting to one another, and this production is thankfully less....aggressive than certain productions. (2005, I’M LOOKING AT YOU.) I always prefer this scene as a verbal battle of wills, not necessarily Der Tod manhandling Elisabeth, and Toho delivers that. 

His performance almost makes me forgive him for 2006 Marie Antoinette. Almost. 

Shirota Yu on the other hand...he’s STILL otherworldly, but in a totally different way. He isn’t immature (I’ve SEEN immature Deaths, and he’s not), he isn’t the Bastard Boyfriend Der Tod, but there’s...something almost NAIVE about him at times? Not in a way that makes him less deadly, but in a way that makes him MORE so. He’s never interacted with a human before, not on this level, it’s very obvious he has no idea how humans really function or work, and Elisabeth confuses him just as much as she intrigues him. I also think that, at various times, you can REALLY see him having the time of his life in the role, playing a very, very expressive Tod in comparison to his more refined, aloof counterpart. Take their respective approaches to the death of little Sophie. 

“Oh, Elisabeth! This is so ~sad~ Here, let me console you! (This should work, right?)” 

“Hm, interesting, it seems like she’s upset. This isn’t what I anticipated.” 

And, at the beginning of Der Letze Tanz, which I’m including here purely because Shirotan is looking particularly memeable here. 

“Hello, it’s me, and yes, I’m majestic, I know, look at me.” 

“You hate death, but live as a mortal. Curious! I am very intelligent.” 

He’s a little rougher than Yoshio, a little less refined (I’ve heard Yoshio Inoue’s Der Tod compared, both positively and negatively, to a European aristocrat, which is actually a little ironic since, of the two of them, Yu Shirota Fernández is technically the more “European”, but. Well. In approach...) He has a wonderful voice (honestly, if you ever want to send your eardrums to heaven, listen to his cover of Die Schatten Werden Länger with Ramin Karimloo. Thank me later), though it’s different than Yoshio Inoue’s more classical voice. I think he has a little bit of a pop influence in there. Which might SEEM like the kiss of death for a performer, but in my opinion, he does work it. (Look, I can’t say anything negative about the guy: My mom has a massive crush on him, I own his album, and also I wasn’t able to finish the one video of him immediately following Miura Haruma’s death where he tried to sing through tears because it GOT me and now I can’t see Shirotan’s face without wanting to give him a massive hug. Which I can’t. Both for geographical reasons and also social distance.) It’s actually a little hard to compare the two Tods because, while they wear the same costumes, sing the same music, act against the same actress, they take such radically different approaches that it’s hard to say “Oh, yes, this one!” or “Oh, yes! That one!” Especially since I’m not sure that Shirota Yu’s voice would have worked with Yoshio Inoue’s approach or vice versa. I ended up loving both Der Tods for various reasons. I THINK that if my copies of Elisabeth were dangling off a cliff and my archnemesis told me to pick one, I would have to end up rescuing Yoshio Inoue’s version because I tend to prefer my sleek, elegant Tods (”Tode?”) but like. I’d be in mourning. Not the least because I’d have to tell my mom about the loss of Yu Shirota’s Tod. 

Speaking of crushes...look. Takanori Sato’s Franz. We know that I have a minor, unfortunate crush on his Louis XVI in Marie Antoinette, and as Franz...He did SUCH a good job with a character who is hard to make sympathetic in the limited time he has. Most audiences are rooting either for Elisabeth/Death or Elisabeth/Independence, and Franz quickly loses sympathy as the musical goes on, so an actor who can make him likeable is working against the tide there, but Takanori gives him SUCH a huge degree of warmth that I found myself rooting for Elisabeth/Franz to make things work out even though we know that it can’t.

 I repeat my assessment from my Marie Antoinette write-up: #FersenDerTodWho?

Mario Tashiro...we know that I do love this man’s work. In my opinion, he has one of the single best voices in the industry. But also, in my opinion....as an actor....he just.....doesn’t have it. He tends to act like the single most one-dimensional version of a role he can get away with. In the beginning, when Franz is young and in love with Sisi during “Nichts ist Schwer” there were a few moments where I felt like I might go into a sugar coma. 

They’re so cute together. Kill me now. 

And, unfortunately, Franz doesn’t have enough time to REALLY show off his range, with the exception of a few low notes and the act one finale (which to be fair, he is BRILLIANT in), to the point where I did, however slightly, end up preferring Takanori Sato both vocally and acting wise. I wouldn’t say that he’s wasted in the role, because he DOES do a good job with what he’s given, but I do think that it’s hard to appreciate just what he can do from this alone. 

It’s only fitting, after talking about Franz, that his mother should come right after him always lurking in the background, as always. And, overall....there isn’t THAT much difference, namely because Sophie, as a role, just doesn’t have that much variance in the role. And most of the fanbase is kind of. Actively rooting for her to die at any given point. There’s not that much that a given actress can really do with it. It’s nothing against them, it’s just a matter of how the role is written. I do find it interesting how both approached the death scene: Tatsuki Kohju’s Sophie is crying at the end, frightened of the afterlife as she clutches, frantically at the death angels before she slumps over, her cane falling out of her hand. As powerful as she was in life, she’s terrified of what comes beyond, as powerless as any other mortal. Suzuke Mayo tries to say something, mouthing some words, but then jerks sharply at a pain in her chest, trying to stay conscious for as long as she can but staggering backwards anyway, falling into the arms of the death angels with a look of pure relief on her face. You get the feeling that she’s been fighting for Austria for so long, made so many personal sacrifices of her own, that the chance for rest is coming as a relief to her. I THINK I prefer the latter interpretation, but honestly, both of them are solid in their own right, though I’m not sure that the role REALLY gets enough to justify a double-casting. (Also....I have to say that, while I wouldn’t necessarily get a musical just for Susuke Mayo, I’ve seen her in enough to have suitably warm feelings for her performances, so I’m already coming in with some amount of bias.) 

Lucheni...I don’t REALLY pay as much attention to, compared to, say, the main trio, but he is our narrator, and both Luchenis did take very different approaches to the character. Songha’s Lucheni was...well, if he isn’t in love with Der Tod himself, he’s obsessed with him. We see him reaching out to Der Tod both at the beginning (when he appears on stage for the first time) and at the end, when Der Tod drops the knife to him. There’s a fervor to him in those scenes in particular that I tend to associate with worshippers in a Baptist Revival. Yamazaki is a little bit more subdued, in the beginning I get the feeling that he’s almost under Der Tod’s trance himself, and, in general, I think he’s a little bit more cynical, though, by the ending, he’s dropped a lot of that pretense. He looks at the knife after he’s stabbed her (Songha’s Lucheni almost lets her walk into the knife, but Yamazaki’s STABS), before a smile comes to his face as he falls down while running, finally laughing. It’s like he’s been playing things more or less subdued this entire time and this is his real BREAK, now that he finally has the opportunity to kill. With Songha’s...

He’s actually shocked. I’m not generous enough to Lucheni, as a character, to say that he really feels bad about killing ELISABETH per se, but that...he’s borderline-fetishized Death for so long, waited so long, and then, when he finally has the chance...it doesn’t live up to his expectations. A woman walked into his knife. (She walked into his knife ten times.) There’s nothing dramatic or exciting about it. One small action, and it can’t be taken back, there’s no getting away from it. He actively stumbles around stage afterwards, confused as he tries to run away, like he doesn’t know what to do now. 

Of the two of them, Songha has a rougher, kind of growelly voice, to the point where I didn’t REALLY like his Lucheni all that much until I started to analyze his acting. Voice is a MASSIVE factor in whether I enjoy a performance, simply because...it’s my eardrums. I very much want to keep them intact. (For what it’s worth, Songha is NEVER rough to the degree it hurts my eardrums, but there have been a few...) It’s arguably fitting for someone who, as a character, is as rough as Lucheni, but it wasn’t to my personal taste, while Yamazaki...I mean, he’s playing Der Tod in the 20th anniversary. Whenever we get the 20th anniversary. He’s played some of the most celebrated roles in Japanese theatre. The man has RANGE and a fantastic control of the role. (Also...look. As a bisexual woman, I’m just going to say it: He’s more personally attractive to me, though the Toho Lucheni isn’t....really....designed to be attractive. If you go in expecting Takarazuka Lucheni or Serkan Kaya’s extremely pretty Lucheni...well. He isn’t. Either version of him. He looks like someone just pulled him out of a garbage can.) I did notice that both of them have quite a bit of growl in their voice during “Milch”, though, so some of this could be directorial intervention. While BOTH of them absolutely nail the high note in the Prologue, in my opinion, Yamazaki’s riffs are an absolute HIGH point for me (...okay, yeah. Literally and figuratively. I didn’t mean to make a pun. But here we are.) I do think, at the end of the day, I prefer his voice, though I think that both of them did interesting things with the role, taking what is essentially opposite approaches. I don’t think I have a really clear favorite there. One of these days, I’ll have to check out Songha’s other work to see what his voice is like in its “Natural State” so to speak since if, for example, I’d only ever heard Oka Kojiro’s voice in 1789, I’d have just assumed he only knew how to bark out his roles. 

One role that wasn’t double-cast but that I WOULD like to draw attention to anyway is Furukawa Yuta as Rudolf. My friend @chibimyumi‘s already written some wonderful meta on Furudolf that I highly recommend, and there’s very little that I can really add except to say that he’s probably my personal take on the role, mainly because, while he IS sympathetic, that isn’t the entirety of his character. He isn’t just a pawn in Der Tod’s game,though Der Tod is unquestionably manipulating him, but a character in his own right. I’ve noticed in the Elisabeth fandom...it can be quite common to go “POOR WOOBIE RUDOLF” and....yes, he did have a very tragic life, but there was more to his life than just the tragedy. He had a life and a personality outside of that (that and....the general erasure of the 17 year old girl who died by his side, but it’s hard to be too harsh on the fandom for that when the musical itself kind of skips over that.) 

Now, on those notes, there’s one thing that...I don’t want to talk about, but I feel like it’s an elephant in the room if I don’t. 

Namely, Hass. 

I don’t like talking about this scene, mainly because it’s deeply uncomfortable subject matter, and it’s deeply controversial subject matter that, as a goyische white person, I really am out of my depth in talking about. There’s a reason why “Hass” was censored from the Zuka, and I know that some fans have gotten hooked on the Zuka, only to go to the German or the Toho, and have subsequently found themselves shocked and/or traumatized. I understand that it’s meant to be deeply uncomfortable, and the Toho DOES show Rudolf actively getting them to stop, which further solidifies the idea in Die Schatten Werden Länger of Rudolf WANTING to stop things from getting out of control, but he can’t. The Toho is also a little bit more brutal than I’m used to, showing an explicit attack on a Jewish man. It’s the kind of thing that, especially in the German and Austrian productions, was meant to give the audience a wake-up call and remind them of their own past, as a country, but can be traumatizing for any Jewish fans or fans of color who might be watching. Especially given that Lucheni, who we tend to associate as a jerk, yes, but as our more-or-less likeable narrator, is actively taking part. I know what they were going for, but also there’s a reason why I never stream this production without a warning ahead of time, and I also tend to end up skipping this scene. 

The staging is very nice, probably one of the more intricate Toho stagings I’ve seen, with a lot of props and backgrounds moving around, often mid-song, as well as projections in scenes such as Die Ersten Vier Jahre in order to show the passage of time.

 The costuming is, predictably for Toho, fantastic, lavish without being quite as sparkly as their Takarazuka counterparts, having quite a few nice velvet numbers in there. The costuming of Elisabeth is so iconic it seems pointless to discuss outfits like the Sternenkleid or the coronation outfit, but I think this production does well on even some of the non-iconic ensembles. See: 

And...you know, I said no iconic numbers, because they tend to be all people talk about, but like. One Sternenkleid pic. Because it’s what she deserves. 

Is it Too Soon to say that I’d stab her for that wardrobe alone? Because damn. And that’s not even touching the jewellery. 

I want. 

Overall, I believe this is probably my favorite production of Elisabeth. Toho really knocked it out of the park, and it’s a good compromise between the Takarazuka and the original Austrian in many, many ways (I do love them, for example, keeping Der Tod’s presence in Alle Fragen Sing Gestellt from the Takarazuka) while also making a production that’s distinct and stands on its own two feet. I really would like to have another proshot of the 2019-2020 cast, whenever the Japanese theatre community is in a more stable place, because I really, really would like to see Manaki Reika, Yamazaki, and Furukawa Yuta’s takes on their new roles, because I feel like they could be really, really solid and I’ve heard fantastic things about at least Chapi and Furukawa Yuta (nothing against Yamazaki, just that I don’t know anything about his take on Der Tod.) 

[thetwoplayergays]

During quarantine, my dad and I have been taking long drives and visiting some of the nearby forest-y places, how do the RFA and MC spend their time together?

Speaking of, I hope everyone out there is having a safe quarantine, including you anon (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ I hope this satisfies what you had in mind! I had to write it twice cause I deleted the first draft...

RFA during quarantine

Yoosung 

His first instinct when he thinks about being stuck inside for the next few months isn’t how he’ll be spending it with you...

No, instead his first instinct is to turn on the computer

LOLOL ALL DAY EVERY DAY BABYYYY

Of course, with the increase in players and traffic to the site, the game appeared to be getting a lot more maintanance than it usually would, which annoyed the blonde boy.

“I’m meant to be doing a raid today MC! What am I doing to do now....”

“...Well for one you could do something with me?”

“Oh yeah!”

After finally tearing him away from his computer, the two of you decide to be productive during this time and learn a couple new skills!

First week: Cooking.

Of course, it would be easier to learn about such a thing if the supplies in the shops weren’t extremely limited, causing you both to have to make up substitutes as you went along.

You almost burnt the kitchen down twice in one week

You gave up with cooking after that

It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, you even got Yoosung to invest some of his time into your favourite games, which to your pleasant surprise he seemed to genuingly enjoy!

A few weeks in, he found an old guitar from high school in storage.

Worst. Discovery. Ever.

“Yoosung no...”

“YOOSUNG YES”

The next few days were filled with the sound of out-of-tune plucked strings overlapping the various youtube videos Yoosung was ‘learning’ from.

“Hey MC, I think I can finally play Hey There Delilah!”

“That’s wonderful honey...”

Zen

This man was SO EXCITED to spend lockdown with you and immediately started to plan all the wonderful things you two were going to do together.

The beast certainly had a few ideas as well

It was domestic bliss for you two

You couldn’t get your hands off of eachother for even a minute

You did everything together - eating, sleeping, showering etc.

The RFA commented on how suffocating it was, but neither of you seemed to mind.

It only solidified the knowledge that you two were destined to spend the rest of your life together.

A few times, Zen had caught himself almost calling you his wife, causing him to immediately hide his face away from you in fear of you commenting on his sudden blush.

There was a downside however. 

Zen’s routine was in shambles

Products were sold out left right and centre, food shopping was even worse, it was driving him crazy.

You found yourself having to remind him that a break in his rountine wasn’t going to be the end of the world and that you loved him regardless, even if he got a pimple or two.

Don’t even go there MC

You found yourselves cooking together more often too, showing Zen how to prepare more meals that were normally out of his diet range.

Of course, it wasn’t like he could resist your cooking anyway.

Whenever you two got a little too stir crazy, he would take you on motorbike rides through the city, more often than not resulting in you two at the top of a mountain stargazing.

It turned into a weekly tradition, one which you both promised to keep up even after quarantine.

Jaehee

You would think that the lockdown would give Jaehee the break she so desperately needed, right?

You would be wrong.

With the cafe closed, this girl threw herself into her work just for something to do

Much to your dismay.

It took a lot of persuading for her to get up from the computer and spend time with you during the initial first few weeks, but it was definitely worth it.

This girl was also extremely prepared to the lockdown before it was even announced.

Sanitiser? Got it, she had spare incase the cafe ran out

Masks? No problem. She had many still in storage from the days she would force herself into work even whilst sick

Again, much to your dismay

You suggested that instead of doing mindless work on her computer that she could help you with a different project you had in mind.

“A project? Whatever could we do in a time like this?”

Redesigning the cafe!

It was something the two of you had talked about many times before quarantine, but had never gotten round to going through with it.

You both took it upon yourself to fill your day with physical and mental labour, pushing around furniture, painting the walls, coming up with new bakes and sales to draw the customers in etc.

It was hard, but it was so worth it.

During the evenings, you two would bundle up together on your sofa and pick a set of movies to watch before bed.

One of you always fell asleep before the end- not that either of you would mind.

Jumin

Out of all of the RFA, he was definitely the closest to breaking the social distancing rule

The idea of not seeing you- touching you- for an unknown amount of time was driving him crazy.

Mr We-shouldn’t-move-in-together-until-marriage was certainly about to rip that view right out of his head just for the chance to kiss you again.

He distracted himself by constantly checking up on you.

“Do you need food? I can have one of the guards stop by a local shop to grab- what do you mean everything is sold out? Can’t they just order more?”

“Jumin no-”

You had to teach him about video calling so he would stop asking for selfies every ten minutes, disputing his claim about how he ‘was already missing your beauty’. 

It went about as well as you might imagine it would...

“Press the little video icon to turn on your camera- no the other one. It looks like a small- NO JUMIN THAT’S THE MUTE BUTTON.”

When you did eventually get it working, he was more than thrilled to be able to talk to you face to face again. He even looked up how to take screenshots on his computer so he could save them.

“You know MC, this platform has a lot of potential uses...”

Down boy its only been a week.

At first you thought just video calling him was enough to satisfy his need to see you, hoping he would stop complaining about ‘missing your touch’.

That was until Driver Kim showed up at your door.

“Mr Han has asked that you pack your bags ma’am. It seems he is rather fond of the idea that you spend this quarantine with him instead.”

Of course he does.

You are thankful though, you missed him more than you were willing to admit. 

Saeyoung

This boy spends his life indoors anyway, he barely registered the lockdown announcement when it finally came.

But when you brought up the idea of spending quarantine with him instead of in your own apartment, that’s when his interest finally peaked.

He picked you up in one of his babies, grinning from ear to ear as he helped you with your small bag of things. 

“Operation 707 and 606′s lockdown extravanganza - COMMENCE!”

To no one’s surprise, he had hacked into the shopping network the moment he knew basic supplies would become sparse and ordered everything you both would need to come straight to his doorstep.

Which in his eyes meant a dozen boxes of Dr Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips. 

“Saeyoung.....”

He would often complain to you about being an ‘essential worker’ because he was still hacking even in the lockdown, but you quickly shot him down.

“MC! You’re so mean! I’m doing this for you! Reward me!!”

The only reward he got was a pillow to the face

When he wasn’t working, the two of you spent your time playing games and watching movies mostly, with the occasional prank call to Yoosung sprung in if you were extra bored.

As much as he joked around about it, Seven was genuinely thankful that you chose to spend such a delicate time with him instead of alone, and made sure to remind you of it at least once a week.

Sometimes he’d go out of his way to cook you your favourite meal, sometimes he’d run a special bubble bath and light some scented candles for a relaxing night, sometimes there were other things too-

But he was genuinely happy to spend every day with you like this, it reminded him of how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Jihyun

Jihyun was concerned at first about the lockdown and his career as a photographer.

Where was he going to go now? Where would he find his inspiration?

His questions were thankfully answered when you walked through the door.

The two of you started a small project amongst yourselves to try and spread some positivity in the community involving V’s photographs.

You’d find inspiration around the house you shared and create these elaborate photoshoots between the two of you that you would share online, encouraging those at home to do the same.

It actually became rather popular, so the two of you continued it.

Your personal favourite entries were the photographs from Jumin as he tried to capture Elizabeth in all her glory but failed miserably.

It was the effort that counted though

When you weren’t taking photos, Jihyun was constantly entertaining you with various activities and puzzles, leading to your weekly board game tradition which was one that you very much enjoyed.

Living in the countryside, you were lucky enough to be able to spend your exercise out in the wilderness with your boyfriend, mindlessly cloud gazing and discussing what the future could possibly have in store for the both of you.

You made sure to spend this time making Jihyun feel as loved as possible too, showering him with little gestures of gratitude for his efforts in keeping you sane during this scary time, which only made him fall in love with you more.

Saeran

Stuck.... inside...?

For months???

OH HELL NO-

Saeran was not about that lockdown life, and immediately went into a grump only you were able to drag him out of.

“Saeran it won’t be so bad! I’m sure it’ll go by in a flash!”

“....You’ll stay with me for it?”

“Of course.”

The two of you slowly get into a comfortable rhythm with eachother, with the you both making sure to give each other space if the other felt suffocated or emotionally drained at any point.

You find yourselves searching around the house for anything you could possibly use to entertain yourselves, eventually stumbling upon a pile of old jigsaw puzzles you had forgotten about.

And thus a tradition was born

Both you and Saeran discovered your love of jigsaws during the quarantine, finding them to be both mentally stimulating and emotionally relaxing at the same time.

Plus, the satisfaction of finishing one you had been working on for the last few hours was extremely satisfying to say the least and quickly became one of your favourite activities to do with Saeran.

You ended up asking Seven if he could do you a favour halfway through the lockdown when your boyfriend had had a particularly hard day, and low and behold, a whole box of ice cream appeared at your doorstep a week later.

“...MC how did this get here?”

“Must have been a miracle darling. Now, how about a movie night, hm?”

[yuta-nakamots]

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 6 of 6 (End)

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Mostly fluff with only some violence though it’s not serious

Warnings - Mentions of blood, description of feeding, slight violence

Summary - Vampires are creatures forced to walk upon the earth for longer than humans could possibly imagine. One would think it gets boring after a while, but not to Renjun, the foreign exchange student who seems to know a little too much about the early twentieth century.

Word Count - 4k

A/N - this marks the last installment of vampire!renjun, thank you for sticking me through my first series <3 stay tuned for the epilogue where i will be wrapping up their storylines

When you feel yourself waking up, the first thing you notice is just how dry and scratchy your throat is, causing you to remember the events from before Renjun persuaded you to sleep. You try to sit up but you are still tied up under the restraints, you sigh, instead opting to call out for Renjun and have him let you out.

“Renjun” you said, startling yourself as you heard it more like a shout, not used to your altered hearing. You hear him let out a surprised noise from behind you though not even a second passed before he was next to you.

“How are you feeling, love?” He asks you as he undid the restraints.

“Sensitive...and thirsty. Can I drink water? Or is that not a thing to us?”

Renjun let out a laugh as he shook his head while filling up a cup of water for you at the sink against the wall after you were freed of the straps. “Here, why don’t you see for yourself.” He offered you the cup, a sly smile creeping up on his face.

You sat up, taking the cup and drank from it, completely emptying it, but the water did nothing for your thirst. You look up at Renjun with wide eyes, his own maroon ones glinting with amusement. He raised his wrist up in front of you, cocking his eyebrow as if daring you to drink from him.

Just as your fingers made contact with his arms, you yelped as you felt a sudden warm electrifying type of shock. “That’s what I felt every single time I touched you,” Renjun stated, “that’s how I knew you were mine.”

You lay your fingers on his arm again, letting yourself get used to the feeling as it faded to a faint buzz in the back of your mind. You bring his wrist to your mouth, not sure what to do, even though you’ve watched Renjun do this countless times before. “Y/n,” he called out, his hand gripping your chin and bringing your eyes up to his own, “look at me. Focus on me.”

Your gaze locks with his as you let your mind cloud over with thoughts of him, many of which you were too embarrassed to speak aloud. You felt something sharp prodding at your bottom lip, forcing your mouth to open ever so slightly. Renjun smiles as he sees your fangs slowly extending, a feeling of pride filling his body.

He did the work for you as he pushed his wrist against your teeth, letting them nick his skin. The second his blood met your tongue, you were met again with the sweet addicting taste of it, not wanting to stop. You really wouldn’t have stopped because soon enough, your brain was colored with red and you couldn’t think of anything else.

You were broken out of your trance when Renjun pulls his arm away from your mouth, “that should be enough for now.” He stated, observing the little markings as they closed up. “They’re excited to meet you.”

“Who-- Oh, them.” You giggled as you momentarily forgot the existence of your other roommates. “I’m still the same person though.” You mused, wondering if you looked any different, not that you’d be able to see yourself anyways.

“Everyone is slightly different once they turn.” He explained to you as he helped you off the table. As your feet hit the floor and you allowed your body to carry its weight, you realized just how hyper-aware you were of everything. “Don’t think too much about it, it’s easy to get overloaded at first.” Renjun informed you, pushing your hair away from your face as he pressed a kiss to your nose.

You can feel the gusts of air flowing throughout the room, the shouts of the boys upstairs as they played a video game, the feeling of Renjun’s body against yours and his scent flooding your nostrils. Though you could also smell yourself causing confusion to cross your mind. You looked down at your clothes, still caked in dried blood and dirt, a small part of you feeling repulsed by the thought of how long you’ve been wearing them.

Before you could even mention it, Renjun was already handing you a stack of your own clothing, his other hand gripping the hem of your shirt to help you out of it. Once you’re just about done changing into your clean clothes, pulling your shirt down over your head, Renjun places another kiss to your forehead as your head popped out through the hole.

You smile as you pull him by his waist, leave little to no space between your bodies. His hands reach up to cup your face, “darling, if only you could see how beautiful you are.”

Your jaw drops in mock annoyance, “was I not beautiful before?” You joked, your voice full of sarcasm.

“No, y/n, that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Renjun groaned, rolling his eyes at you, “you were beautiful before, you’re just that much more breathtaking now.” You saw him starting to move to kiss your cheek but you whipped your head at the last minute, making his lips land on yours instead.

You and Renjun were a giggling mess and you both made your way up the house through the lounge as you struggled to coordinate your movements, not used to the way things felt in your body anymore. You watched as Renjun sped up the stairs, your eyes finally able to track his limbs as they moved faster for the human eye to handle. “Try it.” He said, effectively provoking you to do so, even if you tripped twice while only having to go up ten steps total.

Renjun’s fingers wove their way into yours as you entered the living room, feeling all four pairs of eyes fall on you. Yes, four pairs of eyes. Your grip on Renjun’s hand tightened as you recognized a familiar baseball cap atop the fourth boys’ head, pulled down to hide his face from view.

But you don’t have much time to ponder on why he’s here as Jaemin tackles you to the floor, his body moving much too fast for even the highest quality of cameras to catch. “Oh my cutie baby is aliiiiive~ I knew you’d make it, you could never stay away from Nana~” He cooed as he pinched your cheeks while calling you many other sweet names.

You’re relieved of the pressure of his body on yours when Haechan shoves him off you and helps you up. You immediately wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug, not missing how his body stiffens in your hold. “Thank you,” you murmur into his ear, not that it would make much of a difference because the others could probably still hear you, “Renjun told me what happened. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

‘I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his body relaxing only when you pull away, already annoyed by someone whispering your name. You turn around, expecting Chenle to be right behind you and you’re surprised to see him standing at least five feet away, letting out his now headache-inducing dolphin laugh.

He walks towards you, landing a punch on your arm that sends you flying into Renjun. Before anyone could do anything, you were already on Chenle, pinning him to the floor in a chokehold, much to the other boys’ amusement. Renjun has to physically pry you off of Chenle, pretty much caging you into a backhug as he tells you, “y/n, this is Mark.”

Your head jerks up as said boy takes his hat off, confirming your suspicions. Renjun’s arms around you grow tighter as if preventing you from running away or doing anything rash.

“Hi, I’m Mark Lee,” he begins, his now darker eyes meeting yours, “I-uh, I’m really sorry for this whole thing, I just lost control and I couldn’t help myself.” His hand flew to the back of his neck as he seemingly wracked his brain for sentences. “Um I was only turned recently so I don’t really know how to control myself, though you kinda already know that.” A pained smile on his face as he realizes the lameness of his own joke.

“Anyways,” Renjun begins, saving Mark from further embarrassment, “after I took him in to The Union, which is basically like vampire government I guess, they tried to arrest him but he was undocumented because the person who turned him didn’t report it--”

“It was my ex-girlfriend,” Mark interjected, “she left me shortly after because she found her mate though.”

“But continuing on, they wanted to put him in rehab, though one of the officers working said it would be more helpful if he were to be assigned to someone to have them mentor him,” Renjun explains, “and after some negotiations, I decided to take Mark because some of those higher ups are corrupt and I’d much rather have him trained by one of us than potentially let him become a slave.”

Chenle snorts, “yeah, I’d know first hand. Some of them are real filthy, y/n.”

“In all honesty though, as much as I am grateful, I won’t force you to let me stay if you’re uncomfortable with me being here.” Mark informs you.

You look over at Renjun, to which he just nods as if urging you to speak. “If Renjun says it’s the best option, then I trust his judgement. I just...I just need some time.”

“Oh great, now there’s three of us?” Chenle groans.

Jaemin giggled at him, “but you’ll always be Nana’s baby won’t you?” He cooed at Chenle as he ruffled the youngers' hair.

“You’re a gross old man and you know it.” Chenle retorts, drawing laughs from everyone around the room.

The house is full of noise and movement for the next couple of days as rooms are reorganized to fit two new occupants, Mark and Chenle, along with remodeling a storage room into a classroom/training room of sorts for you and the other two newer vampires.

“You can take Mark and Chenle can pay to have his own room built.” Haechan argued, not wanting to give up the room he used alone.

Jaemin scoffs, “you won’t be laughing when we’re the ones who have to build it. Just take Mark and I’ll take Chenle.”

“Why can’t Chenle just go to his own room and then Mark can stay with you?” Haechan whined, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“Renjun already said we can’t build another room because of some policy and you know that.” Jaemin said through clenched teeth. “Would you rather have him banshee screaming in your room or mine?”

Haechan let out a huff of indignation, “yours,” he grumbled, “I guess I’m taking Mark then.”

The first lesson you have is an impromptu one while you’re watching a movie with Mark after finding out how close in age the two of you are and that he too isn’t from China. Jaemin was there as well, though he was reading a book, already having watched the movie.

“Hey Jaem, when Haechan was talking to Renjun before he turned me, he said something about not wanting to be in charge of “another one”, what was that all about?” You ask, accentuating your words using finger quotations.

Jaemin looks up, lost in thought for a second before responding. “When a vampire turns someone, they form a bond with that person if they’re quite close to them. Haechan turned me and you, putting him “in charge” of both of us.” He explained, copying your use of finger quotations. “Though I think you may have a small connection with Markie over here too.”

Mark whips around, his attention no longer on the movie. “I--wait what?”

“You bit her didn’t you?” Jaemin asks rhetorically. “You turned her and here you are acting like best friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some type of bond between the two of you.”

Mark’s mouth opens and closes like a fish as he struggled to put words together. “But Renjun...is her mate??”

Jaemin lets out a loud laugh, “not like that silly. A creator bond isn’t like a mate bond when you feel stuff when you touch them and makes their blood taste sweet. It’s like when your creator feels strong emotions, you feel it too and there’s this type of pull that makes you want to stay with them.”

“So how does that work between you and Haechan?” Mark questions, clearly still lost in confusion.”

Jaemin reaches for the remote to pause the movie before answering, “when Haechan is happy, I am happy. When Haechan is sad, I am sad. Simple as that. Being with him puts me at ease so I just like being with him.”

You snickered, a plan forming in your head, “does that mean if we make Haechan mad, then you and I will both feel it?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Jaemin responds.

The three of you put together a plan to make Haechan angry, which is put into action during family game night when all six of you got together to play some type of group game. Tonight it was Mariokart.

Since only four people could play at a time, you and Jaemin volunteered to wait for the next round, smirking as the others began choosing their characters and yelling at each other already. You got up from your seat next to Renjun on the sofa, squeezing his thigh to let him know you’d be starting the plan. You had enough sense to tell him in advance so he wouldn’t get mad at your next actions.

You sat down next to Haechan, throwing your legs over his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around you so he can still hold the controller while keeping you close to him. “Hey Princess, didn’t want to sit with Renjun?”

“No, I know he’s just gonna yell in my ear the whole time.” You hear Renjun whine in response, but you paid no mind to it. You heard the familiar beeping as the countdown for the race started, smiling to yourself as you thought about what you were about to do to the poor unsuspecting boy next to you.

As soon as you heard the signal for the start of the race, you pushed yourself on Haechan’s lap and straddled him, effectively blocking his view of the TV. “Yah! Yah! Y/n I can’t see!”

He shifts around trying to get a better view of the screen but you move with him, only allowing him to see when he tries to kiss you, making you back away, revealing part of the TV to him. You felt an itching sensation building up in your chest and you continue to mess around with Haechan though he still manages to stay in fifth place, having had all the time in the world to memorize all the maps in the game.

You glance over at Jaemin for help and he instantly moves to sit next to Haechan, making baby noises as he tries to land a kiss on Haechan’s cheek. The boy under attack jerks around even more, trying to get away from Jaemin while also still struggling to view the screen. He lets out a shriek when he falls to sixth place as Renjun passes him, hearing a whoop come from your boyfriend on the other end of the sofa.

You decide to go in for the kill as you turn to beckon Mark over, hearing Haechan groan, “not you too.” Mark sits on the other side of Haechan and whips out his phone, reading off facts about the pudu while throwing in some facts about the sun every so often.

A flame erupts inside of you when the game ends and you can feel Haechan’s anger building up. You turn around to see Haechan’s character at the bottom of the list in eighth place. “What the fuck?” Haechan yells, finally gaining enough strength to push you off onto Jaemin who immediately latches on to you while laughing. Despite the sensation in your chest begging you to punch someone or something, you begin laughing with Jaemin, causing Haechan to get only more upset.

When Mark explains the plan to him, his eyes go red as he grabs your shoulder, pulling you close enough to him to whisper in your ear, “oh, Princess, you have no idea what you just got yourself into.”

Not even a week later Haechan and Jaemin got into an argument in the middle of the night.

“Jaemin turn your music down” Haechan yelled through the wall separating his room from Jaemin’s. “I’m trying to complete a challenge and I can’t even think with your shit music playing.”

“For your information, Ariana Grande is a legend.” Jaemin shouts back. “And no, I will not turn it off, we’re just vibing over here.” Chenle’s laugh rang throughout the house.

The dispute only got worse as the two boys fueled each other on and you began to feel that same itching feeling in your chest as you saw Haechan storm into Jaemin’s room and appear seconds later, dragging him out into the backyard, only lit by the shine of the moon.

You followed them out and watched as Haechan threw Jaemin into the ground so hard that it left a Jaemin-shaped imprint in the dirt. You couldn’t help but feel giddy and excited, no doubt coming from Haechan’s own emotions. Hearing the commotion, Renjun was immediately beside you, laughing to himself as he suggests you join them.

Latching onto Renjun’s arm, you were about to refuse until Haechan looked over at you, “yeah, Princess, why don’t you join us?” He said mockingly. “You always threaten to beat us up, there’s no better time to start than now. Everyone’s watching anyway.”

Looking over your shoulder, you find Chenle and Mark standing in the doorway, both of them starting to chant “fight him, fight him, fight him” and even gaining the support of your boyfriend who pushes you out onto the lawn.

You stand in front of Haechan and copy the stance he was in, not wanting to make the first move. Once he sees you’re ready, he lunges at you, but you’re fast enough to process his movement and grab one of his arms, using your newborn vampire strength to slam him into the ground just as he did with Jaemin but your victory was short-lived.

The second Haechan’s body hits the floor, you and Jaemin let out yells of pain as you both fall as well, holding onto your right shoulders, the same one Haechan was grasping as he rolled around in pain. You glance over at Renjun for help at which he just shakes his head while flashing you a sad smile. “He wouldn’t dare attack me. My pain is your pain and Renjun is too much of a softie to do that.” Haechan said, slyly smirking at you as he pushes himself off the ground.

What you didn’t expect was for Chenle to shove Mark out onto the grass, yelling “Haechan you should fight him too! For science!”

“What freaking field of science is that?” You burst out as you made your way to Renjun, not wanting to go through another round of indirect torture.

Chenle shrugs his shoulders. “The study of y/n and her creators I guess, I don’t know.”

You could only watch from Renjun’s embrace as Haechan threw Mark around easily, the latter having little to no combat experience whatsoever. You were pleasantly surprised when you realized you weren’t on the receiving end of Mark’s pain or emotions, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Haechan eventually grew tired, telling Renjun to “supervise the kids as they get their energy out” as he headed back inside with Jaemin. So under Renjun’s ‘adult supervision’ as you called it, you spent the rest of the night sparring with Mark and Chenle, though it was mostly you bullying Mark because you could never get anything past Chenle, seeing as how he already had four years of experience on you.

Renjun, who hadn’t been paying attention, choosing to read a book instead, looked up when he heard Mark let out a particularly loud yelp. He took in the bruised and bloodied state the three of you were in and immediately called off playtime. “I think that’s enough for tonight, you guys should go back in and clean up before the sun rises.”

Renjun took it upon himself to clean you up, though it didn’t take much effort. Broken bones would heal within a few days. Bruises and scratches would be gone in less than that but Renjun insisted on helping you wash up like how he always did when you were still human.

As Renjun had finished cleaning you up in your shared bathroom, you watched your cuts close up on their own as Renjun put away the first aid supplies. Once he was done, you grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bathroom and telling him to follow you as you collected a few pillows and blankets before making your way through the house to the study room, which had the best view of the sunrise.

Renjun already knew the drill, as watching the sunrise had become a common thing for the two of you. He helps you set up the arrangements of pillows and blankets before letting himself lie down, a content sigh leaving his lips as you throw a leg over his waist and rest your head on his chest.

There was still some time left before the sun would actually come out, so you began talking to him to pass the time, watching as the sky gradually became lighter. “Are you ever upset at Haechan for turning me instead of you doing it yourself?”

Renjun looks off to the side as he comes up with a response. “I do really wish it was me who turned you, though given the circumstances, I know it wasn’t possible for me to do so.”

“Yeah I know, but like, don’t you ever worry about my bond to Haechan?” You ask, knowing you’d be worried if the situation were reversed.

He hums before answering your question, “I rarely do worry about it. Though I choose not to think about the what ifs, like what if Haechan gets into a fight where I can’t do anything? You’d be in pain and I won’t be able to stop it,” he says, turning to face you, “or if he decides to leave us one day, I don’t even know how his pull would affect you.”

Renjun pauses, searching your eyes as if they held an answer for him. “Above all, though, I am thankful for him because I know if it weren’t for him, you may night be in my arms right now.” He admitted as he fully turned to face you, his hand finding its way to rest on your back as he placed a kiss on your lips.

You smiled into the kiss before pulling away, wanting to admire the way the light cast shadow across Renjun’s face and lit his eyes up in a way only you’d be able to see, a sight made specifically for you.

Renjun turns away and looks out the window, shy from the sudden attention you were giving him. “You’re like my sunshine, y/n.” Neither of you move, lost in the beauty of the sun peeking out over the mountains.

“And you’re my moon. All the time I’ve spent with you is made beautiful by just your presence alone.”

A/N - this marks the last installment of vampire!renjun, thank you for sticking me through my first series <3 stay tuned for the epilogue where i will be wrapping up their storylines

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #8

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

I’m using this as a fun writing experiment for a) writing short things and b) writing things from a multitude of varying perspectives.   Have fun! :)

This one’s a little longer since it was part of my original attempt at this project - they won’t usually be this length. 

[Ao3]

***

Finn Hudson (Furt) 

It’s Friday night, after the football game.  It hadn’t gone well.  Coach Beiste had spent a good twenty minutes lecturing them on teamwork and all that crap.  They had known.  It’s not like they hadn’t had a good streak before that night.  He’s tired and hungry and desperately needs a shower.  

He also knows Rachel is waiting for a phone call.  Not that she hadn’t been at the game - she had - but Rachel demands more energy from him than the rest of his life put together.  He’s not sure he has the energy tonight, but Rachel’s texts keep flying in.  

Rachel : Make sure when you get home you talk to Kurt!! Rachel : I’m Worried that he didn’t come to the game today. Rachel : It’s probably because of Karofsky and those other jerks.  Rachel : They’re being awful, Finn.  You need to step in.  Rachel : Finn, have you talked to Kurt yet???  Rachel : Have you??? Rachel : Are you ignoring me again?? 

He leaves his football equipment by the foot of the stairs, and throws his phone on the end table.  Rachel’s texts still light up the screen, and she’ll probably be pissed that he isn’t responding, but he isn’t entirely sure what she wants him to do.  Kurt’s fine - or at least he’s seemed fine since he’s been to Dalton.  Besides, he’s too tired to think about other people’s problems.  All he wants to do is grab a Mountain Dew and crash.  

Kurt is at the table when Finn walks into the kitchen - the table full of designs, notes, and planners for their parents’ wedding.  Finn’s not surprised, Kurt has taken his job as wedding planner pretty seriously.  There are details Finn’s never even heard of that Kurt seems to have covered.  Kurt had once tried to explain the Fung Schway or whatever to him, but it all sounds like a bunch of nonsense in his head.  

Kurt, however, isn’t alone.  His new friend from Dalton - Blaine - is with him, chatting with Kurt about the designs.  It’s almost like listening to a foriegn language.  Honestly, Finn’s gotten used to seeing Blaine around.  He’s been over at least twice a week since Kurt met him. (And always wearing that blazer.  Doesn’t he ever get sick -- or too hot -- wearing that thing?)  Finn doesn’t know what Blaine’s home life is like, or if he’s just interested in Kurt (are they dating? Finn can’t keep it all straight) but Blaine stays until Burt literally has to kick him out - Kurt complaining about it the whole time.  

Sometimes Finn wishes Rachel would stay that late, but Rachel has her beauty routine she has to do before bed, and therefore is always out the door promptly at 9:45pm, even if they’re in the middle of making out.  

“Finn! How was the game?” Kurt asks, not bothering to look up.  Finn doubts Kurt cares about the football game - he rarely ever asks.  

“Azimio fumbled. They scored a touchdown and we never really got the lead back,” Finn says with a grumble as he opens the fridge. “Beiste bitched us out forever after the game.” Oohh, Burt had left the makings of a sandwich. A sandwich sounds good, too. He pulls out the plate along with a bottle of Mountain Dew that is stashed in the back.

“Azimio is a clueless Neanderthal, who probably has his lackeys tying his shoes for him because he doesn’t know how to do it himself,” Kurt snarks.

Finn holds back a groan. He doesn’t want to get into it tonight with Kurt.

“Well, from what Kurt’s told me, it sounds like the guy would be better used as a tackle and not a wide receiver,” Blaine says, unexpectedly.

“You know something about football?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, footballs great!” Blaine says, with a higher level of enthusiasm than Finn thought would have from someone who went to a prep school. “Actually, I’m excited for next weekend because my dad and I are going to an Ohio State game. We don’t do much together, but we do that every year.”

“That’s totally cool man.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun.”

“Oh, so I guess that means you’re not coming to the wedding then, huh?” Finn asks. “I would have figured Kurt would have nagged you to be his date by now.”

“Finn!” Kurt snaps, not able to hide the coloring in his cheeks.  

So, Blaine isn’t his boyfriend? Finn’s so confused.  

“Um, no,” Blaine shakes his head politely, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, yes, Kurt asked, and it’s a nice gesture, but I wouldn’t want to impose on a family thing even if I could come.”

“I told you, it’s not an imposition.,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes as he begins to draw on one of the blank pads in front of him.

“So what kind of seats did you get?” Finn asks as he puts the finishing touches on the sandwich.

“They’re box,” Blaine shrugs off as if it weren’t a big deal.

“No way, man!

“Well, my dad’s boss lets him have a season ticket every now and then.”

“I’m totally jealous,” Finn says. “Did you hear they’re bringing Meyer in as starting quarterback?”

Blaine is quick to reply. “Which is ridiculous, I know. Johnson has the better arm.”

“Yeah, but Meyer has better aim and…”

Kurt’s gone quiet, which always makes Finn a little uneasy.  He’s stopped drawing on his pad to watch Finn and Blaine’s conversation carefully, a troubled look on his face.  Finn isn’t the most observant person in the world, but he recognizes that look.  It’s the same look Kurt used to give when Finn and Burt would talk about normal guy things together.  Rachel’s voice echoes in his head -- reminding him of how left out Kurt usually feels, and how he should make an effort to make him feel included.  

“So, what are you guys working on?” Finn asks as he pulls his chair up to the table, and sets his plate down, being careful enough not to set it on any of Kurt’s plans.

“Oh, Kurt’s a genius,” Blaine insists.  A proud smile grows along Kurt’s lips. “He’s found a way to work in faux ostrich feathers into the centerpieces. Just take a look at these designs, they’re amazing.”

“Cool.” Finn says, trying to sound sincere.  

If you had asked him for an honest answer, Finn wouldn’t have known the difference between what is sketched on the pad and anything else.  But before he could even comment again, Kurt is off, talking a mile a minute as he excitedly gives details about the wedding.  Finn nods along, trying to keep up.  He takes a quick glance at Blaine, thinking that maybe Blaine would be as lost as he is, but Blaine’s busy staring at Kurt, watching him fondly and smiling as if he had stumbled upon something amazing.  

How is he not Kurt’s boyfriend again?  

Finn takes his sandwich and his soda and quickly slips out of the kitchen as Kurt and Blaine enter their own little world again.  Finn might not be in tune with Kurt’s world but Blaine clearly is, and while Finn remains somewhat confused, he’s happy about that.  At least he’ll have something positive to report back to Rachel. 

[ms-march]

Luck be a Lady: Spoilers & Drabbles

Based off of this prompt request!!

So yeah, here we go, spoilers for future LBL are below the cut!  If you liked this half as much as I do please give it a like, reblog, or both!

It was late May in Virginia, and Belvior was bursting with beauty.  The sun shone brightly in the sky, and the breeze that blew over the hills was light and warm.  The day was perfect.  So perfect that Adrienne found herself walking out from the manor with a light brown wicker basket in hand, on her way to meet Colonel Kosciuszko for a picnic.  

As she walked across the peaceful grounds of her childhood home, Adrienne hummed a tune to herself, one she remembers her mother singing to her as a child.  That was where she was headed.  Adrienne and Thaddeus would be able to hide away all afternoon together under the willow tree where Lawrence proposed to Anna, where her father would whisk her mother away after he returned from the assembly in Williamsburg.  Now, it’s where Adrienne and Thaddeus would spend the one perfect afternoon for the rest of their lives alone with the soft songs of the cardinals and the sweet smell of honeysuckle on the breeze.

Approaching the spot where the tree sat rested a figure in blue sitting on the grass, head resting against its trunk.  The sunlight hit the man’s face from an angle, and Adrienne stopped in her path to admire the beauty of the dark-haired man.  He was so relaxed now, so peaceful she wondered if he had already fallen asleep where he sat.  A smile found its way to her lips, spreading across her fair-toned face, and she continued on, her white floral dress dragging behind her.

Thaddeus opened his eyes as a shadow shaded his face from the sun.  There she stood, in a way he had yet to see her.  The gown Adrienne wore was, frankly, as simple as could be.  The short train of the jacket covered the grass behind her.  The plain white dress had a pattern of flowers scattered across it, and they were the same color as the blue petticoat she was wearing.  To anyone else, this sight would be an odd one, the simple cotton fichu accompanying the gown contrasting all common beliefs about her modesty.  But to Thaddeus, this was his Adrienne, not the fanciful gowns she wore at camp or to social events, but rather the simple cotton dress and wicker basket.  She was beautiful, more beautiful than ever before, exactly as she was.  He started at her, wishing to forever preserve the memory of her like this.

Thaddeus was snapped out of his trance when Adrienne took a seat on the blanket he had brought and began to unpack the basket. “Good afternoon, my dear, I hope I didn’t wake you,” as she spoke, Adrienne was pouring two cups of lemonade out of a corkable glass pitcher, and as she finished, she handed him one.

The glass sat securely in Thaddeus’ right hand as his left hand reached out to Adrienne, caressing her cheek, “Oh, now my sweet, as long as it is you, I would never mind be awoken.” He smiled as her laughter filled the air around them.  That laughter was sweeter than any choir could ever hope to be.  

“You are staring again.”

“Of course, my apologies, madam.”

Thaddeus was staring at Adrienne with that adoring smile across his face again, eyes squinted to block out some of the sun as he continued to stare.  He cradled the glass of lemonade in his hands but shifted to only one as she extended a hand out to him.  Adrienne had intended on pulling his head into her lap, but he had the same idea and twice her strength.  She caved into his pull, resting her head in Thaddeus’ lap so that she was looking up at him from an angle.

His hands instantly went to her hair, fiddling with the rolled curls. “Why must you do this?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, emphasizing his claims as he pulled lightly on one of the curls atop her head.  

“You mean my hair?” He hummed in agreement, and she shook her head slightly, “Well, that’s an easy fix, my dear.” She reached up with a hand and removed the pins holding her curly gold locks in place, letting the hair fan out around her.  

“Amazing,” he breathed, “Truly divine, my love.” Adrienne swears that the childish grin on her face hasn’t left since the moment she arrived, but he was far from done with his flattery, “Greater than any angel in heaven, like a goddess divine.” 

“Careful there would hate for our afternoon to be ruined by the wrath of some aggravated ancient deities,” she giggled and reached up to undo the blue velvet ribbon that held together his queue.  As the ribbon came untied, his curls fanned forward into his eyes, causing the two of them to laugh. “There we are, now we match.  My soldier and I.”

“Like Ares and Aphrodite, my Lady and I.”

“Because we are lovers in secret, behind the back of my husband?”

“Because we are passionate lovers, so destined to be together that not even a marriage can keep us apart.”

She hummed happily in agreement, tangling her fingers in his hair, rolling his curls around her fingers.  Even as she remained intent, with her gaze focused on his face, his eyes were far away from Adrienne, even as they looked right at her. “You are thinking again.”

“Well, it is unfortunately not something a person can cease in doing, my sweet.”

“Of course they can, Colonel Hamilton does it all the time.  For whole weeks even.”  

Thaddeus snorted, “I’m sure you don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do.”

Sighing, he smiled sadly down at her, “I was just thinking about how I wish it could stay like this forever.” He ran his hands through her hair as he continued, “No John, no secrets, just us, here together like we should be.  I want that.  I want that with you, Addy.”  

She frowned up at him, her brow creasing slightly with concern, “Well, that’s an awfully glum thing to think about.  I would like to think that my presence isn’t so horrible you must result to thinking such things.”

“No, madame, it is the delightful presence of yours that calls me towards such desire,” he sighed, “I never wish to leave it.” 

“Then don’t.”

“Addy-”

“For all we know, today is all we have.  For all we know, today is forever.  So spend it with me.” He hummed, agreeing with her statement.  She tugged on his coat, drawing his attention, “Will you just hold me?” She closed her eyes, the warm sun on her face, “Just right here, in the moment, for today.”

Thaddeus said nothing but shed his officer’s jacket and draped it over her like a blanket.  He then moved her head from his lap and laid down next to her.  Adrienne, who waited till he was settled before resting her head on his waistcoat, smiled with her eyes still closed when Thaddeus wrapped his arms around her.

And that was how Ona found them.  Adrienne with her face in his chest and his jacket around her shoulders, and Thaddeus in his waistcoat, an arm wrapped around her, and another underneath his head as a pillow.  And Ona thought to herself as she walked back to the manor, ‘They look just like Lord and Lady Fairfax.’

When they did awake, it was Thaddeus whose eyes opened first.  The unusual weight on his chest drawing his attention.  There was Adrienne, sound asleep on his chest, her hair fanned out across her back, atop the continental uniform jacket she used as a blanket.  She was beautiful like this, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of her head on his chest.  She was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen, more beautiful than the mythical Helen of Troy, and he loved her.  Oh God, he loved her.  He loved her, and she loved him, and this love made them divine.  Aphrodite and Ares, caught in a dance of love and secrecy.  Passion on the basis of deceit and love so strong that it will fix the universe’s wrongs.

[imagine-ikebukuro]

hi! can I please request shizuo and his female s/o getting into their first huge heated fight? can it please have a fluffy ending? thank you so much for your time!

It was bound to happen eventually. Shizuo saw it coming, but that didn’t mean he was any less scared of it. He dreaded the thought of ever snapping during an argument with her. But it happened, nevertheless.

The day has been pretty rough as is already. It’s not really an excuse, but he was already tense to begin with and her nagging certainly didn’t help with his bad mood.

Her complaints are justified, though. He has been straining himself recently and she probably just wants to help and only means well when she tells him to get a grip. But instead of taking her kind reminders as good advice – “You should eat more regularly and make sure it’s healthy food, not just instant noodles.” or the “You’ve been getting far too less sleep lately. Maybe you should cut off some shifts, I’m sure Tom will understand.” – all Shizuo interprets it as is her not being satisfied with his lifestyle. Not satisfied with him.

“What’s it to you anyway? If I’m not good enough, then just scram instead of being an ass about it.”

The growl in his tone should’ve served as a warning, but she remains stubborn. She was never really scared of Shizuo. Although he couldn’t understand how she didn’t think of him as nothing but a brute, he was thankful for her accepting attitude towards him. Otherwise they probably wouldn’t have ended up together in the first place.

Pouting, hands at her hips and brows furrowed she throws a glare at him and it infuriates him even further. “I’m not a dumpster for your bad mood, Shizuo. I just want to help you.”

The implication that he can’t control himself and – even worse – takes it out on her, drives him insane. Ironic, isn’t it? Thinking about it in retrospect, he knows how ridiculous it is, but that doesn’t help in any way, shape or form.

All he sees is red and he feels the adrenaline kick in. So he reacts quickly and just leaves, not wanting the situation to escalate any further. He can’t remember telling her “I don’t want your help.”, even though it’s something she points out in a later conversation. To him it’s a wonder he hasn’t said or done anything worse, but he can’t really recall any of it – as if blacked out. He remembers storming off and he remembers shattering the nearest trash bin to pieces to a point where the only thing left behind might as well have been dust.

After having a smoke and finishing the cigarette, he’s somewhat calmed down. He still ignores anyone passing by since he’s lost in thought and tries to reflect on what just happened. He knows he’s in the wrong here, but her judgemental attitude still bothers him.

After a while, he walks back home, somewhat hopeful that she would be sitting there and waiting for him still, but the apartment is empty. A note on the table says “please call me when you feel better.” in pretty handwriting and now he really feels like an asshole. He knows she’s just worried and caring and he know’s he overreacted.

But even though Shizuo truly wants to call her, he never manages to bring up the courage to do so. He wants to apologize, but something inside him tells him that maybe it’s just better off this way. Thinking back to the trash can he destroyed makes him shudder. Sure, this time he was able to draw back from the situation and cool off without hurting her. But what if he snaps again next time? What if he does end up hurting her in the process? He could never forgive himself.

Much to the dismay of any of Tom’s clients, the days pass on without Shizuo calling his girlfriend. Not having talked to her in what must’ve been a week by now, his mood just worsens. Torn between missing her and wanting to stay away from her for her own sake, his patience wears thin and a single misused word from anyone would have him throw punches.

“Call her,” Tom sighs after yet another fist fight between his friend and a customer. So far he had little complaints, since Shizuo would rarely truly go apeshit. Him showing hints of annoyance or frustration was often enough to scare non-paying clients in debt and make them return the money at once. But clearly, this is getting out of hand.

Flinching at the suggestion, Shizuo shakes his head. “What for? She’s better off without–”

“Don’t give me that ‘she deserves better’ crap. Whatever happened between you guys, you should talk about it. Take a day off and call her,” Tom sighs as he’s giving his friend a meaningful stare that allows for no backtalk. “Otherwise ,I’ll do it myself.” He pats Shizuo’s shoulder twice before raising it in order to wave him goodbye.

Shizuo keeps standing in place for a good minute until at least grabbing his phone. He can’t do more than stare at the screen, though, before he shoves it back into his pocket and gets home. The second the door closes behind him is the very same second his eyes catch the sight of her note still sitting on the same spot on the table.

“please call me when you feel better.”

A deep sigh escapes Shizuo’s lungs. He certainly doesn’t feel better at all. In fact, it keeps getting worse and definitely more difficult to ring her up. He drops onto his couch and tries to distract himself, but every few seconds his glance lands on the small piece of paper, which cruelly reminds him to man up.

“Screw it,” he finally thinks as he dials her number and presses the phone to his ear. Will she even pick up? It’s been roughly 10 days since they last spoke with each other. Maybe she’s settled with the situation and accepted it as a final breakup?

The sound of the ringing makes him anxious for just a second, as shortly after, he hears a familiar tune just outside his door. Lifting his head to the apartment entrance, Shizuo stands up and holds his phone a few centimeters away from his ear to listen for the source of the music. When it abruptly stops, he hears a softly spoken “H-hello?” coming from both his phone and from outside his front door. Instead of verbally answering, he steps to his apartment’s entrance and opens it.

“…Hi,” the blonde speaks somewhat awkwardly into his cell phone while looking her right into the eyes. She glances right back up at him, her phone still in her hands as well, neither of them hanging up the call.

“Tom told me you were home,” she explains, eyes still not leaving his and her phone still held to the side of her face. ‘You didn’t even give me a chance to call her back, Tom.’ Shizuo quietly thinks to himself, even though he feels sort of thankful for his friend’s help after all. A few seconds of silence fills the space between the two. “Can I come in?”

Shizuo steps aside and finally hangs up the call. She does the same while walking past him.

“I hope I’m not bothering you…,” she mumbles in an apologetic manner and Shizuo can’t stop looking at her. God, has he been missing her. “I-it’s just… Tom said you weren’t feeling too well.. and uh– I.. just came to check if everything’s alright and–”

Interrupting her excuses to visit him, Shizuo wraps his arms around her and within a moment walks her to the couch before settling on it, his head resting in the crook of her neck and taking in her scent and warmth. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she starts playing with his bleached locks. “I thought you might still be angry with me,” she mutters and when Shizuo glances up, he’s met with a frowning expression.

“I never was,” he replies and carefully places a gentle peck to her forehead. “I was angry at myself, you know? And you were right, I took that out on you and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry,” he sighs and pulls her closer into his embrace. “I should’ve called you back immediately. I was just… scared. I don’t want to– you know. What if I end up hurting you?”

“Well, but you didn’t. You never did.”

The shine in her eyes is so innocent and hopeful that it reminds Shizuo how fragile she truly might be without even being aware of it. She feels like glass in his rough grasp, ready to shatter at any given point.

“Not yet, but–,” he tries to express his concerns, but his words are cut off by a small kiss to his lips.

“I know you won’t.”

[chapitre7]

The night with your dazzling name

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Canon compliant, canon continuation

Inspired by this art

Soundtrack

Read on AO3

날 보는 두 눈에 나의 깊은 밤 그대는 나만의 연인이오

In your eyes that look at me There is my deep night You are my only lover

– Park Hyo Shin, Lover

   The soft tapping wakes him almost instantly. Although he’s never been a heavy sleeper, his body tuned to changes and threats in his surroundings at all times, his home had always been a place of solace, of shelter, of peace. With the weight of the Stygian Iron heavy in his bones, Lan Wangji knows the time for peace is all but over. So when the tapping comes, he rises, reaches for Bichen, and opens his window at once.

 The fight drains out of him, shoulders almost imperceptibly relaxing, at the sight of Wei Wuxian’s grin. A reprimand is ready at the tip of his tongue when Wei Wuxian says, “Lan Zhan, I know it’s past curfew, but there’s something you need to see!”

 He touches Lan Wangji’s sleeve, giving a gentle pull. Lan Wangji is caught between wanting to pull back and wanting to be pulled forward. These perceptible changes in his feelings, his impulses, are unnerving to him. As if he came back from the Cold Pond Cave a man full of questions, his head full of images, of wars waged, of losing someone precious, living with nothing but regret in isolation for hundreds of years. For years, too, all he’s known is a life of cultivation, of ignoring whispers behind his back and focusing on becoming a better version of himself. But now his body knows and remembers the warmth of someone else by his side, and has discovered the colors that show in someone’s eyes when you’re close. He feels awake, from deep slumber, mind still stumbling, trying to catch up. He’s awake, looking at Wei Wuxian’s smile, in the dim light of the night.

 He’s awake, and he can’t bring himself to cite any rules, not when he still feels the ghost pull of Wei Wuxian lingering at the ends of his forehead ribbon. So he raises his hand, lets Wei Wuxian take his wrist, and for the first time in his life, he exits the Quiet Room through his window, Bichen left behind atop his rumpled sheets. A storm is coming, but for a night, maybe, in the space between yesterday and tomorrow, between action and reaction, the Cloud Recesses are still his solace, his shelter, his peace.

 Wei Wuxian leads him to his own roof and settles himself down on the tiles. On a different night, not too long ago, they had fought over impropriety under the all-seeing gaze of the full moon. Looking down at him now, sprawled gracelessly and looking rather proud of himself, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to have changed at all. So maybe it’s Lan Wangji’s eyes that see differently, his heart that beats a different rhythm as he remembers Wei Ying’s promise alongside his own to Lan Yi. It’d be easy to brush him off as someone seeking his own glory, his own shameless promotion, but Wei Ying looks at the night sky with clear, open eyes. He gazes at the ageless stars and his smile goes from mischievous to solemn, to something honest, almost making Wangji’s core tremble. He mustn’t have awakened properly, still caught in restlessness and dreams. He never remembers his dreams.

 “Lan Zhan, look,” Wei Wuxian says, hand stretching up, palm wide. “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

 It is. Tonight, it is only a sliver of light, only the promise of a full moon. But there are no clouds to hide it, and it feels close, big, symmetrically perfect, a proof that nature could never do wrong. The moon is a precise stroke of a brush, just like the grass is precisely arranged, and the coldest winter always sings of a colorful spring. The moon is calming, constant and infallible, and nothing at all like the human heart.

 He was only just beginning to see it, eyes slowly opening, waking from childhood dreams.

 “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

 It’s late and there’s no sound at the Cloud Recesses but the huff of Wei Wuxian’s chuckle.

 “We were stuck in that wet, cold cave for too long, don’t you think?”

 Tied together, bound intimately by rules that Lan Wangji selectively attempts to ignore. And because he’s trying not to think about it, trying not to think about Wei Wuxian at all, he paradoxically sits down next to him, his gaze cast upwards, towards the celestial moon. It is beautiful. Always watching, even when you couldn’t see it. When will they be able to watch it again?

 “Lan Zhan.”

 He didn’t expect anything else; he doesn’t lower his gaze.

 “Are you scared?”

 He’s not scared of a fight. Not scared of committing, not scared of retaliation. But he thinks of Lan Yi, committed to her duty, a victim only to her own shortcomings. He thinks of his father, of what was whispered of his mistakes. And for the first time in years, he thinks of his mother, whose face is now but a ripple on the surface of his memory, thinks of her caged happiness, until there was nothing left.

 If there’s fear in death, is there fear in living?

 He doesn’t speak. The moon, for all her perfection, provides no answer. His choices are only his to make. What is he to make of his future?

 “Of course you wouldn’t be scared,” Wei Wuxian replies to his silence, drawing his own conclusions. He doesn’t care to address him. “And if you’re not, how could I be?”

 He blinks, shielding his eyes from moonlight, before drawing his gaze down, to look at Wei Wuxian. He’s looking back, almost as if Lan Wangji is the sight to behold, the unmovable force in the night. With his back straight, as it always is, and his legs perfectly folded in the lotus position, he holds the gaze of this ridiculous, impudent disciple for seconds, and he swears Wei Wuxian’s smile only grows under his attention. So he looks away, closes his eyes.

 There’s a stray thought, born of overthinking, perhaps fatigue, sleep clinging to his eyelids, to his conscience. That lying down and falling asleep, bathed by the moon, in Wei Wuxian’s company, wouldn’t be so bad.

 In the years that come, he doesn’t remember what he says to him before he leaves, jumping down from the roof and climbing back through the window before sealing it shut. He just remembers that that night, and so many nights after that, Wei Wuxian enters his dreams uninvited, and he stays. Even after he can no longer listen to his laughter, he still remembers it clearly, pristine in the Cloud Recesses silence.

 He’s always there, like the moon. Unseen, but ever-present.

 ***

 The Quiet Room, after a lifetime, has known sounds other than rustling of paper and the melody of a guqin. After a lifetime, after the fall and rebirth, it’s known chatter. The sound of alcohol swirling inside a jar; heavy footsteps, full of purpose and poise and character; and laughter, resounding, chiming laughter, coming from one’s core, forever golden. After a lifetime, it remains unbroken. After a lifetime, Lan Wangji’s soul, like his heart, moves again, alive, under fingertips that play his song. Their song. Permeating the Quiet Room like incense, like air, like happiness.

 It is, however, quiet again that night. Like a blotch of ink on otherwise fairly good days. Lan Wangji prepares for bed in movements that he doesn’t even register, perfected over the years, perfectly proper. The accessories in his hair aren’t removed lazily or with haste, but at the right pace, in the right angle. The layers of his garb are folded and put away without a wrinkle. His sheets are unblemished, without any stains, and cold as he settles under them, back perfectly straight, fingers perfectly laced together. And in the stillness of the night, Lan Wangji lets out a sound from deep in his throat.

 It could hardly be heard by anyone, even if they happened to be in the Quiet Room with him. It’s not a whine or a cry. It’s something small, and carrying just a little bit of pain. If that’s what it is. Lan Wangji has felt a great number of things over the years, over sixteen years of silence and empty dreams, like a moonless night, but he doesn’t bother to name them all. They all bear a single source, after all, and they used to contradict each other for so long. Nowadays, he just allows them to come, now that they’re bearable and not suffocating, all encompassing. Closing his eyes, he thinks about how much he wants to see him. In the colors that play behind his eyelids, he thinks about how he can come back any day now. He can come back. He’ll come back.

 The tapping comes seconds after he’s laid his head on his pillow. With his heart already soaring above his physical body, Lan Wangji opens his window, and basks in the smile of Wei Wuxian.

 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, and his voice fills the empty halls of Lan Wangji’s body like the warm sun. I want to see you, I miss you, his heart recognizes, even as Wei Wuxian stands in front of him. “Good evening.”

 “Wei Ying,” he says, because he can, because he missed him. “What are you doing here?”

 “Huh?”

 Wei Wuxian blinks, once, twice, opens his mouth to reply before following Lan Wangji’s gaze to the window frame. So he laughs instead.

 “I was moon gazing!” He says, smile wide and bright, even in the semi-darkness. “Join me?”

 His gives him his hand, fingers open, inviting. It’s just the same as it once was, just like that smile, just like his eyes. When he looks up at his face, Lan Wangji sees him the same way he did twenty years ago, even if his mole is gone, and the scars, and his golden core. He’s Wei Wuxian, a sun shining the night. Wei Ying, no longer fifteen, but still impossible to cage, impossible not to love. The days he’s spent away feel like a lifetime, so Wangji’s grip on his arm is firm. Wei Wuxian only smiles wider, gripping back just as tightly, and together, they jump on the roofs of the Cloud Recesses.

 The moon seems to have come to greet Wei Wuxian, after days of hiding away. It’s crescent and bright, shining after the gloomy full moon, a smile after the darkest days are past. Did he really use to think the moon was proof of perfection, a symbol of the symmetry of the world? But the moon is just like Wei Ying, restless, ever-moving. A gentle touch of light when you wake from nightmares you can’t remember, but still feel. The moon is memory, and the past, and the present, and tomorrow, but moody, coming and going as it pleases. He smiles under its gaze, his shoulder touching Wei Ying’s. He’s sleepy, finally relaxed, in the peacefulness of their reunion.

 “Oh, Lan Zhan, didn’t you miss me? Are you going to sleep on me?”

 He hums, letting his head fall on Wei Ying’s shoulder, because he can, because he allows himself to crave contact with him, in any and every possible way. “I missed you,” he says, eyes closed, inhaling his scent. He smells of journey and freedom, of the road and Little Apple, and like Qinghe. He touches the fabric of his robes, and thinks they must complement him well. Nie Huaisang’s appreciation for well-balanced beauty is known to all. He runs his fingertips through the patterns on Wei Ying’s robes, letting his hand rest on his waist, just as Wei Ying’s arm move to support his shoulders.

 “Lan Zhan, are you drunk? Did I leave you alone for too long? You’re really honest tonight.”

 He doesn’t bother with a reply. He’s been awake for too long, aware for too long, consumed with himself for too long, so he lets go. Before another lifetime passes, he takes another step in the dance he’s been dancing with Wei Ying since he returned to him the first time. Always parting and reuniting. He’s done with regret, doesn’t believe there’s space for it between their hands. Wei Ying supports his shoulders, holds him close to his side, and the sound that leaves him is just content.

 “Lan Zhan, you can’t sleep here, it’s too cold,” Wei Ying says, and it’s less playful, less loud, spoken just for him to hear, his free hand brushing a few strands of hair away from his face.

 “Wei Ying will keep me warm.”

 There’s a hitch in Wei Ying’s breath, and he can’t help how it lifts the corners of his lips. With his eyes closed, he can’t see what sort of gestures Wei Ying does, he can only feel his movements in his privileged spot against him. Then he recovers, huffs a laugh, and says, “Yes, I’ll keep you warm, Lan Zhan.”

 They don’t sleep on the roof. It’s already too cold at this time of the year, and too open, and even to his indulged heart, it’s not exactly what Lan Wangji wants. They jump down, enter the Quiet Room — from the window, like teenagers — and Suibian comes to rest by Bichen. There’ll be time for a bath, for stories and for unhurried, proper dressing later. But now, there’s only time and space for Wei Ying to shed his travel-worn clothes and climb onto Lan Wangji’s bed, to cradle the Second Jade’s head against his chest and let him breathe into his skin, cold noses and fingers warming with their contact. He thinks Wei Ying kisses the top of his head, thinks he runs his fingers through his hair, but the intensity of his longing has tired him, so he keeps his eyes closed and his arms secure around him, until dreams of his eternal company overtake him.

 He needs to tell him in the morning, is his last thought. No, his last thoughts are words, mismatched still, of all he feels for him. In the morning, he’ll know how to make them work. He’ll tell Wei Ying, so he knows, so he’s sure, so honesty isn’t just a fleeting moment in unwelcome inebriation. He should tell him in the morning, and the morning after that, and the one after that as well. And in the evenings too, right before they fall asleep, in all the months that Wei Ying is there, right there. He’ll tell him what Wei Ying already knows, but needs to hear. He deserves to hear. How every night, since the first full moon, has only had his name.

 In the morning he’ll pour him his heart. But right then, there’s only the moon, shining down through the open window on their tangled limbs. Where does one begin and the other ends?

 The moon smiles in the sky.

[sadandsoullessauthor-blog]

No Such Thing (Tsukishima x Reader)

        “Do you believe in happy endings, Kei-kun?” Tsukishima sent the petite girl beside him a blank stare. They were sat on top of the roof of her house with blankets and snacks laid out around them. A comfortable silence had engulfed them as they stared at the stars above.

       “What is this, a fairy tale? There’s no such thing.” A sad smile graced her lips right as a light breeze blew her (H/C) locks from her shoulders. Tsukishima couldn’t help the shiver that wracked his body as he glanced at her in confusion.

       “What’s with that look–”

       “You must be chilly, right? You head on down while I gather all of our stuff. Make some hot chocolate for us both, okay?” The saddened look was gone from her features in an instant, but her once sparkling, (E/C) hues had turned dull. Deciding to listen instead of pry more, he nodded and climbed down into her room before heading out to the kitchen. A bad feeling washed over him as he sent one last look up at the ceiling where he heard her walking around.

He should have gone back up.

       School was boring as ever the next day. He wouldn’t see (Y/N) until third period, their math class, so he was stuck listening to the drone of his sensei until then. By the time he had reached his breaking point, the bell had rung and a relieved sigh escaped him. Standing quickly, he gathered his bag and jacket before heading out of the room to meet with the only girl he considered to be one of his closest friends. He found her talking with Yamaguchi, his other best friend, with the same look on her face as last night. Eyebrows furrowed, he approached them slowly.

       “–until then, okay?” He caught her saying as she handed a light blue envelope to Yamaguchi. The males locked eyes momentarily, and Tsukishima could see the confusion swimming in his gaze. The brunette bid them both goodbye almost immediately, heading in the direction of his next class hastily.

       “What was that about?” he asked before she could speak, tilting his head down to send her a suspicious glare. (Y/N) did nothing but smile at him as she gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with her. Something didn’t sit right with him as he followed her silently.

He should have spoken up.

       (Y/N) wasn’t at school the next day. She’d texted Tsukishima that she wasn’t feeling well after falling asleep on her roof. He responded by calling her stupid and leaving no room for argument when saying that he’d be over after club to make sure she was taking care of herself properly. She was on his mind all day, even through practice, and everyone was able to see that something was off about him. Tsukishima was quiet, more than usual, and didn’t even bother to send a sarcastic quip Hinata’s way the entire time. After they’d discussed the plan for tomorrow’s game against Aoba Johsai, he was the first one out of the gym without so much as a goodbye to Yamaguchi. The team shared a worried look as he exited, glancing at Yamaguchi as he clutched his bag tightly. Within the bag sat a single blue envelope that would soon change all of their lives.

       A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as Tsukishima walked up to (Y/N)’s door. Knocking twice, shock made its way onto his features when her mother opened the door. Wasn’t she on a business trip?

       “Ah, Kei, you must be here to check up on (Y/N)! She’s in her room still, hasn’t come out all day. That fever is really getting to her!” She laughed, but he could see the tears threatening to fall. What was wrong with her? Nodding respectfully, he made his way around her and down the hall to the (H/C) haired girls’ room. It was eerily quiet as he halted in front of her door, apprehension filling him to the brim. Just as he raised his hand to knock, loud and painful sounding coughs echoed from inside the room. There was a loud crash and he threw the door open immediately, completely forgetting manners as he stampeded into the small space. The sight that welcomed him was not a pretty one.

       “(Y/N)?” Her name fell from his lips subconsciously as he stared at the quivering figure on the floor. (Y/N)’s head snapped towards the door as she wiped her lips and hid her hand underneath the blanket she had dragged with her when she fell. Tsukishima quickly made his way to the girl and wrapped his arms around her to pull her to a stand. She was shaking badly, he noted with concern, and was pale as a sheet.

       “I-I was trying to reach my water, and fell out of bed.” Was her excuse, and he ignored the nagging at the back of his mind that said it was a lie.

He should have questioned her.

       Tsukishima had spent the night with the sick girl, at the request of both her and her mother, and it was now the next morning. (Y/N) was claiming that she felt fine, and wanted to go to school so she would be able to go to his game afterwards. Coughs filtered through her body every few minutes, and that’s what made him force her to stay home. He had just returned to the kitchen after delivering her breakfast, and was sitting at the small table with (Y/N)’s mother. The woman looked exhausted, he realized, and had heavy bags under her red eyes.

       “Do you have to go to school this morning, Kei? Can’t you just show up for your game when the time comes?” she asked suddenly, and Tsukishima could feel his eyes grow wide.

       “I wouldn’t be able to participate in the game if I missed school, (L/N)-san.” He’d wanted to ask her why she asked something so strange, but he held his tongue out of respect for the woman. She smiled lightly as she shook her head to herself.

       “Of course, of course. I apologize, Kei, I suppose I’m just a bit stressed right now.” Tsukishima only nodded, looking at the clock on the wall and standing. Waving goodbye to the now silent woman, he headed to (Y/N)’s room to check on her one last time before he left. After receiving nothing but silence when he knocked, he opened the door quietly and peeked inside. She was sleeping soundly, hair a mess, and shivering ever so slightly. Stepping gently, he made his way to the side of her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Sending her one last look as he got ready to leave the room, he could feel worry build up in his chest. But why? Shaking the trepidation away, he left the room and hurried out of the front door with a promise to (Y/N)’s mother to come back after his match.

He should have stayed.

       The day had gone by swiftly, and before he knew it Tsukishima was on the bus with the rest of his team. The ride to Aoba Johsai was a short one, and he followed silently as everyone else unloaded. The chatter of the group was interrupted by the unmistakable, piercing wail of an ambulance siren as it raced past them. The anxiety that built up in his chest as it passed by confused him, but not more than the looks of pity that his senpai were giving him. Why were they looking at him like that?

       Hinata and Kageyama were as annoying as ever during warm-ups, but he couldn’t find it in him to tease or rile them up. What was going on with him? Both teams were done stretching, and it was Aoba Johsai’s turn to use the court to warm up. As he stood with the rest of his team and watched them, he could faintly hear the distinct tune of his ringtone coming from his bag. Who would be calling him right now? He locked gazes with Kiyoko and she nodded before lightly jogging over to his bag to receive the small device. She handed it to him and waved him off with a look of concern gracing her usually stoic features. Frowning in confusion, he took a few steps away from the rest of the team to answer the still ringing phone.

       “Hello–”

       “You need to come to the hospital right now, Kei. It’s (Y/N).” The world around him slowed down at the morbid tone of (Y/N)’s mother and his heart shattered at her next words.

       “She’s gone.” The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground noisily, halting the warm-up behind him and drawing all attention to his still form. Karasuno’s team tensed up in anticipation as one brunette took a step toward his best friend. Yamaguchi sent a knowing look to his captain and made his way to the tall blonde. Daichi shared a distraught glance with the other third years and called Oikawa over to relay the dreadful news. The match could wait. Yamaguchi placed a light hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder and frowned in worry when he took in his blank stare.

       “I know, Tsukki. We need to go now.” That was all it took to snap him out of his trance, and he released a shaky breath as he raised a hand to cover his mouth. The team was already out of the gym, crowded into the seats near the back of the bus so that he could have a seat closest to the door. As soon as both boys were in, Ukai sped off to the hospital he was instructed to. Tears gathered in his eyes, along with many others on the bus, but none fell. Yamaguchi pulled a light blue envelope from his pocket right as they pulled up in front of the main doors and handed it to Tsukishima with a heavy heart.

       “Don’t open it until you see her. Not until then, okay?” he relayed her final request of him quietly, tears flooding over as his best friend sent him a broken stare. Tsukishima got out of the bus in a daze, staggering into the hospital with several stares of pity on his back. He hoped it was a lie. He hoped she had just fallen at the park and gotten hurt enough to need emergency care. When the face of her mother, tears streaking her cheeks, met him, the world around him crashed to the ground. She led him up to (Y/N)’s room and left him there as Yamaguchi and the others came up the elevator.

       Entering the room, he was immediately met with a sight that will forever be burned into his memory. There she laid: pale, unmoving, and gone. He approached her slowly, falling down to his knees once her reached the bedside. Hearing a crinkle in his pocket, he pulled the envelope out numbly and opened it.

Dear Kei,

       I didn’t want you to find out this way. I’m so sorry I didn’t ever tell you. You’ll notice that the rest of your team knew, and, yes, that includes Yama. I made sure that none of them told you.

       I had lung cancer.

       Remember all of those coughing fits I’d fall into? All the ones that we just brushed off as my asthma? I found out 2 weeks ago that it was so, so much more than that. We got to it too late, Kei. I didn’t have the heart to tell you. I was going to, that night on the roof, but then you said there was no such thing as happy endings. I guess you were right, huh?

       I never got to tell you this in person–I love you, Tsukishima Kei. I always have, and I always will. So, I guess this is goodbye. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. I’ll be watching you succeed from above, Kei. Don’t you worry.

Love Always,

(Y/N)

       Tears filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks as a broken sob wracked his body. Dropping the note in his hand he cradled her cold body to him as he shook.

He should have realized that he loved her sooner.

[chuckling-chemist]

Chapter ???

(I have become a slave to my own creative whims on this stupid crossover and need to scream into the void so just take this draft since it’s more comprehensible and easier to skip than a fuckload of bullet points. Look, I have a general plot now and its taking a real shape and I’m so mad)

Luxord (well, that’s what he was still intent on calling himself. Much like Xigbar he grew too attached to the name) sat himself down at the nearest plush blue barstool in the jazz lounge, card fiddling between his two fingers. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? He’d been a Nobody for so long, playing his part to a faceless master, watching the eternal servant to the Master of Masters...for how long? Don’t get Luxord wrong, there was a visceral enjoyment to running around Castle Oblivion while Xigbar continued to be none the wiser, but it felt good just to enjoy a gin and juice without dealing with muted emotions.

And, he reminded himself, no more bulky overcoat to keep himself safe from corruption. He had the choice to blend into his actual environment. Or, more likely, fit his aesthetic. Maroon sport jacket and tie, straight out of someone’s fantasy of Las Vegas. Something perfect for sitting in a lounge featuring a live band filled with people pointedly not infected with malaria, playing an actual jazz song. Couldn’t get that luxury back with those pirates, much as that world was his go-to in those days.

Then again, the drinks were cheaper. And, unlike now, he actually knew the generalities of Xigbar’s plan. If that black box didn’t contain whatever was left to return Xigbar’s master, it was at best a clever ruse to keep the other pieces of Xehanort busy while Xigbar put together the pieces to bring his true master back.

Well, you can’t win them all.

“Pretty abnormal to see a Brit come in here. They generally keep to the more touristy places up in the red light district,” the bartender said pleasantly. She was a pleasant looking woman, long dark hair braided down her back and large, round glasses behind brown eyes. Wearing an apron over what looked like a pantsuit.

Another boon: the bartenders are much cleaner now.

“Then again, nothing’s quite returned to normal yet after the whole Phantom Thief fiasco.”

Luxord raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He was a gambling man, after all. Kept his cards close. This was no exception. Phantom Thieves were not something that casually popped up. If nothing else, it was worth the inquiry. 

His gaze swooped the lounge. In the back corner, secluded to themselves sat a young androgynous person in a dark blue cap and peacoat, so quiet as they tapped away on a laptop they might just disappear into the hazy blue of the wall had it not been for the singular empty glass on their table. Two patrons, a young stern woman with silver hair and an old man in a fedora, debated philosophy over a table littered in drinks. Two others, obviously tourists if their pallor skin indicated anything, in dark sunglasses played billiards. An empty lounge, mostly. Thank God for off days, or else he’d worry about Xigbar having ears somewhere. He shifted in his seat, letting him lean closer on the dark wood of the bar and asked, “Phantom Thief fiasco?” 

“Did you not hear about it? A whole string of high profile celebrities and politicians, all confessing to various crimes because of some seventeen year old kid thinking he was changing the world. And, on top of that, this is the same kid who our former prime minister claimed assaulted him! A scrawny high schooler, calling himself a Phantom Thief! Can you believe?” She shook her head, holding back a laugh. 

“And it made national news?” Luxord asked doubtfully. 

Truth be told, in all the iterations of Japan he’s visited over the years - both in his stay with Organization XIII and before - he hasn’t been to this specific iteration for longer than his memory can adequately say. But matters like that he struggled to imagine the government wanting such a controversy getting out of its borders. 

“Eh, you know how it goes. Kids on the internet go crazy for that anti-capitalism, vigilante rogue bullshit. Guess we’re lucky the Americans were still flipping out over some gorilla or else Twitter would’ve been an absolute nightmare that year.”

He flashed the bartender a smile, the kind that indicated he appreciated the conversation, but he also had a drink to attend to. “Quite.”

The song shifted from whatever upbeat tune they were playing to something more somber. The old man in the fedora was up at the bar now, asking for two more cocktails and giving a bit of trivia at the same time.

He took another sip of his gin, running through what he knew once more. First, Xigbar was not Xigbar. Luxord knew that from the start. No one pulls two Keyblade wielders, Dandelions no less, from the first war as Nobodies and manages to strip them of their memory of such without knowledge of such. He’s lucky Xehanort was apparently a bigger fool than Luxord initially took him for, or else that would’ve tipped him off right away. But, unlike Xehanort or Xigbar, Luxord never moved until he knew he had a good deal.

Second, while Xigbar likely had the box, and acquisition of said box wasn’t great news for Luxord, Xigbar would not ever be able to find the Book of Prophecies. Xigbar, Luxu, he was smart after all. He’d know the best place to hide something is right under the searcher’s nose, and would know it would be somewhere in Radiant Garden. But while he was focused on kissing Xehanort’s ass, he never once thought to check someone. And taking a book from a child, the one remaining totem of his home before Radiant Garden? From the good master’s ward, no less? Why, such would get him thrown out of the castle immediately.

(There were moments Luxord worried Xigbar knew who exactly carried around the Book of Prophecies like his lifeline around the castle, and grew concerned the reason why Xemnas was so willing to consider a teenager as his second in command was Xigbar’s own meddling. But, if such were the case, he likely would have done more to stop Saix and Axel’s Castle Oblivion Massacre. His long con worked out in the end albeit in an unexpected fashion: illusions work well for hiding what you’re holding.)

Third, and most worryingly of all, the damn Foretellers were back. Theoretically, this was a point directly in Xigbar’s court. He was a Foreteller after all, albeit not the leading Foreteller. And all of the Foretellers worked directly for their master. However, in the past, the Foretellers have been incapable of working together the second hardship arises. If fortune fell in his favor, history would merely repeat itself. If it didn’t, it could be tricky.

He finished his drink. If there was any time to check how his deck was stacked, now was as good a time as any.

He swooped the card into the sleeve of his jacket, exchanging it for a different card from a different deck and letting it drop onto the table.

The Fool. 

He swooped up the card and planted it back into his sleeve. In any other world, he’d blow it off and draw again. For matters like this, drawing the Fool meant literally anything. The beginning of a journey, with roads and challenges yet uncovered. A non-answer and a sign his tarot cards had enough of his shit for the day. But he wasn’t in any other world. He was in a world ruled by cruel gods and the humans that chose to surmount them. In a jazz lounge where all the walls looked to be the same dreamlike, hazy blue. No, this was a person.

A thief, if his intuition had anything to say about it.

“Ma’am, one more question. If you will.”

The bartender strolled over with an inquisitive look and grabbed his drink, topping off the gin and juice. 

Funny enough, Luxord used to hate gin. He acquired a taste for it, spending days at a time in Port Royal, downing gin and tonics to keep the mosquitos (and the malaria, fuck that malaria) away.

“The supposed Phantom Thief high schooler. Do you know their name?”

The bartender frowned. “Can’t say I recall it, no. His lawyer fought hard to keep it out of the press. But if you want to talk to her, she’s right over there.” She pointed behind him, back to the table where the heated debate sounded like bickering. “Nijima. Absolute beast in the courtroom. Can’t believe she turned to defense.”

“And the man with her?”

“Sakura. He runs a tiny hole in the wall coffee shop down the way. Leblanc, I think? Named after a French painter, I think. Been there once or twice, but coffee’s not really my thing, you know?” She shrugged helplessly. “Anyway, they’ve come in together every now and then and end up arguing politics every time. You think he’s trying to get with her? Cause that’s what I’ve been thinking.”

Luxord fought back the urge to snort. He was too dignified for that. “Not the way they’re arguing. You said she was a defense attorney, yes? Probably just helping her blow off steam.”

“Eh, I think if he wanted to do that, he’d make her free coffee. I don’t know much about Sakura, but he pours a damn good cup of coffee.”

“Hm.” He pulled out his card from before and threaded it between his fingers. Old habits die hard, after all, and cards were an ancient habit of his. “Do you think he plays cards?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hell if I know. You’ll have to go to Leblanc yourself and ask him yourself.”

Approaching someone like Nijima for the name of a particular Phantom Thief wouldn’t yield results. Not if she was unwilling to name him for the media firestorm. However, if she’s getting drunk on the regular with this Sakura man, he might know. Might even tell Luxord, if he’s lucky. “I think I will, thank you.”

The bartender grinned. “No problem! Hope you enjoy your game!”

He grinned. The game was on. “I believe I will.”

[qionow]

Elegy for the Earth (1)

The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, or Marzia’s journey to the Underworld.

(i’m just testing yet another au out, so here’s like 5k words of nyo!gerita with marzia being very gay and very musically talented + wood nymph monika because who doesn’t want that. the rest of the myth is gonna be finished in another post, but here’s some deceptively sweet fluff for now)

To the untrained ear, the silence of the woods cast a heavy weight on those who dared to venture within its boundaries, thick branches tangled together to block out the sky above and muffle the land they protected. 

But Marzia could hear the melody hidden deep in the heart that the forest covered. 

The whistle of the wind rustling through the leaves, the chirping of the birds perched safely in the cover of the branches, the light pattering of the squirrels darting across the worn dirt path, that hushed song slowly unveiled itself in the safety that those woods provided. 

That was the music she strove to replicate, strumming the lyre in her arms as she joined the symphony of the forest around her and sang. 

Each gentle note, every faint hum, all of the sounds she made she used to coax more of the world around her out until the trees dipped low to hear her song and the forest joined her harmony to meld their creations together into a melodious wonder.

The gift of music wasn’t one that Marzia intended on wasting, but even she couldn’t walk forever before her legs started to ache and her voice started to crack with muffled gasps for air. 

Marzia briefly glanced around, spinning in a lazy circle to take in the blur of vibrant greens and muted browns that weaved together to form the hazy woods around her. She only stopped when she saw the grand oak tree just a little ways away from the path, young green leaves filtering out the harsh sunlight above to cast a swaying shadow on the ground that slowly swept across the ground with the passing breeze. 

In short, the perfect spot to rest. 

The earthy scent of the woods rushed to greet her as she settled down near the roots of the tree with a content sigh, the rough scratch of the bark against her back easing her fall until she was safe under the shade of the tree. Her clothes were surely ruined by the damp dirt under her, but Marzia hardly cared about that now that she had a moment to rest. 

She took a minute to close her eyes, savoring the melody around her once more and catching her breath before she finally strummed her lyre and sang along with that unseen song. 

The quiet hum of the nature around her harmonized with her music, from the brush of the wind to the chattering of the creatures hidden in the brush, a tune she drew from in order to form her own.

When her throat started to ache with the first signs of fatigue, Marzia allowed herself to rest, although her fingers still plucked idly at the strings of her lyre in a slow tune. In that brief intermission, she finally opened her eyes and froze when she saw a woman standing in front of her. 

Marzia had never seen anyone quite like her, dressed in a chiton that draped loosely over her broad form. Pale blonde hair cropped short swept across her face with the breeze, revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes that shone a deep navy in the sunlight for a brief moment until they widened with surprise. 

Before Marzia could even think to say a word to her, she was gone, vanished as if she had never existed in the first place. 

All Marzia could do was stare at first, jaw dropping open as she took in the empty spot where the woman had just been standing before she jolted forward to sit up and whip her head around. 

There were no signs of footprints, no indentations in the earth to prove that a mortal had been there at all, and for a moment, Marzia felt fear rear its head up alongside the mess of confusion. 

She had been a fool to think that such beauty would be anything but divine.

But as she made to stand up, lyre clutched to her chest, the branches above her reached to follow, curling in on themselves ever so slightly as the creaking of the wood joined the rustling of the leaves. 

And in that brief burst of sound, Marzia could have sworn she heard a voice, hidden deep in the music of the oak tree. 

No.

Marzia looked up, but saw no one, no woman, no person, around her to claim that deep rumble as their own. As she glanced back at the oak tree behind her though, a slow suspicion started to form in Marzia’s head. 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

It felt odd to address a tree, but the answer she received was clear enough. The branches slowly unfurled themselves, straightening back out in what Marzia could only assume was an open invitation for her to accept. 

Marzia blinked once, then twice before her lips curled up into a warm smile, kneeling down to sit by the base of the tree once more. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I play a little then,” she mused. 

Yet again, there was no answer to be seen, but Marzia heard the sharp rustle of the leaves in a slow rhythm, as if someone was nodding their head along ever so slightly. 

With that, Marzia strummed the lyre once more and opened her mouth to sing along with it. The forest remained her ever-present audience, but this time, Marzia was nothing but delighted to be able to perform for the dryad who had allowed her to stay. 

-

She made sure to visit the oak tree day after day, resting under the shade of the branches and singing whatever new melody she had composed that morning. Hours flew by as she hummed and played her lyre, but she had yet to see the dryad reveal herself as she had that fateful day. 

Regardless, it was an honor to gain the trust of one and Marzia made sure to treat that privilege as such. She knew the dryad was listening, even if she never appeared in person, and that was enough for Marzia.

However, as Marzia closed her eyes to rest one day, sitting against the trunk of the oak tree as usual, that quickly changed when she felt the distinct sensation of someone watching her. She had her suspicions as to who exactly it was, and when she opened her eyes to see the familiar sight of the same dryad studying her, she only gave a kind smile back. 

“This is your tree, isn’t it?” 

The woman looked surprised at her gentle question, eyes widening for a brief moment before she carefully nodded her head. “Yes.” 

And oh, her voice was deep with the power of the roots below them, a strong and steady rumble as firm as the earth she inhabited. Marzia could already hear the song in her voice, the hidden melody in that simple word, but that was a matter for later. 

“Who are you?” the nymph asked cautiously, studying her carefully with the same stern gaze that Marzia remembered first seeing.

However, she made sure to answer properly this time, taking care to keep her focus on the question at hand. “I’m Marzia. Marzia Vargas.” 

“Marzia.” Her name came off so differently when it rolled off of the tongue of the dryad, slowly testing out the sound for herself before she nodded. “My name is Monika.” 

Marzia couldn’t have thought of a more fitting name for her, beaming up at her as she leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree. “That’s a pretty name.” 

She couldn’t help the giggle that sprung from her chest when Monika’s pale face flushed bright red, eyes darting to the side as she cleared her throat in a show of surprise that Marzia didn’t expect from someone so intimidating. 

“Thank you,” she finally mumbled, pausing in order to rush out her next sentence. “Your name is very nice as well.”

Marzia could feel the genuine appreciation in that compliment and it was one that she took to heart as she laughed. 

“I'm glad you like it.” She beamed up at Monika, lightened in the warm atmosphere around them until she suddenly gasped. “Oh, I forgot to ask! Would you like to sit with me?” 

Monika glanced down for a moment, ducking her head ever so slightly before she met Marzia’s eyes again. “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly.

Marzia didn’t have to think twice when she beamed at her. 

“Not at all!” She patted the open spot next to her cheerfully. “Here, there’s plenty of space for both of us!” 

That seemed to be enough to convince Monika to move, slowly making her way over to her to sit down by her side. However, Marzia could still catch the hint of something hidden away on her face, held behind by hesitation. 

She frowned and tilted her head, leaning forward to meet her eyes with a concerned stare. “Is something wrong?” 

Almost immediately, that flicker of doubt was gone, cast away with a shake of Monika’s head. “No, it’s nothing.” 

That only served to deepen Marzia’s worry though as she gathered up her lyre in her arms. 

“If I’m bothering you, I can leave-” 

“No!” 

They both froze as soon as that word left Monika’s mouth, staring blankly at one another until Monika let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s just-” She cut herself off and brought a hand up to rub at her temples before she finally glanced back at Marzia. “Could you keep singing?” 

Her request was nearly inaudible, barely caught over the sound of the forest around them, but to Marzia, it was about as clear as could be. 

And she had never been so honored to receive such a request in her life as she settled back down, picking her lyre up as she shot a warm smile towards Monika.

“Of course I can.” 

Marzia’s fingers plucked at the strings of her lyre, drawing out a series of melodies before she settled on a light-hearted tune, one that she drew from the mellow air around them. As soon as that harmony started to develop under her guidance, she allowed herself to sing along and coax that music out into the world. 

Performing for the world was enough for her, but to sing for a woman who listened so closely to her music was an experience that Marzia could never hope to compare to any other.

-

Days melted into weeks before those too faded away into months, time passing by ever so eagerly as Marzia made her way to the oak tree every day. 

Some days she wouldn’t stay long, darting by to offer a quick greeting to Monika before she was rushing back home to finish whatever task she had put off on completing in order to wander around in the woods. 

Other days, she would stay at that tree until the sun rose and fell, watching the sky fade from a clear blue into a swirl of bright oranges and royal purples before the night fell in a deep black blanket across the land, swallowing up the shadows beneath them until all that was left was Marzia’s quiet song in the hush of the land. 

Those were the days that she treasured, when she could relax against the trunk of the tree with Monika at her side and share idle conversation with her as she plucked at the strings of her lyre. Everything from the weather to their respective sisters all came to light in their talks, no topic left untouched under the endless amount of time they shared together.

And ever so slowly, Marzia saw the kind woman within the fierce dryad that she had first encountered, someone who fed the stray dogs of the town with whatever berries she picked that day and guided lost travellers back to the worn dirt path during the cold winter nights. 

Monika was as soft as she was strong and Marzia felt nothing but gratefulness to be able to know her. 

For once, this was another night where Marzia could stay with Monika from the sunrise onwards, letting the afternoon pass by them ever so lazily until the forest started to darken with the coming sunset. 

The summer breeze gently carried the last of the warmth from the day along with it, whisking along the scent of old pine and well-cared earth with it in a pleasantly hazy combination. With the gentle end to the day, Marzia’s music followed suit as well, humming out a soft lullaby to soothe the world to sleep as Monika sat quietly by her side. 

When she finally played the last note on her lyre and let her voice carry out through the woods one final time before her song ended, she allowed the silence to settle between them, a brief respite for Marzia to catch her breath. 

Once she took a deep breath and let out a content sigh though, she turned her head to face Monika, leaning against the scratchy bark of the oak tree. 

“Are you happy here, Monika?” she murmured.

Monika paused at that, blinking once before a contemplative look settled across her face. “Here?” 

Marzia nodded lazily, letting her hands fall to her lap to set her lyre down. 

“In the woods.” She kept her voice hushed, barely above a whisper as the night settled down around them. “It has to be lonely, being here all by yourself.” 

Monika didn’t answer right away, a silent request for some more time to think before she slowly gave her response.

“It was, at first,” she replied. “I don’t mind it though.”

She soon pinned Marzia down with a confused stare, furrowing her brow ever so slightly. “Why are you asking?” 

“I was just thinking,” Marzia hummed, “that maybe you could come live with me.” 

This time, the silence that sprouted between them was filled with nothing but shock.

“Live with you?” Monika repeated, tone already dipping into disbelief. 

That didn’t stop Marzia from nodding along with a bright smile though. 

“Mhm!” She let her voice strengthen itself with her conviction. “So you won’t be all alone here.” 

Monika only opened and closed her mouth, visibly racing through a multitude of answers in her head before she finally settled on one.

“Do you understand how forward that is?” 

Her tone was incredulous, but Marzia could see the faint pink dusting across her cheeks, and that was enough for her to decide to push her luck. 

“Forward?” Her grin widened as she leaned forward to playfully nudge Monika’s shoulder with her own. “Do you want me to ask if I can marry you first?” 

Just like that, Monika’s light blush burst into a heavy crimson that jumped to spread down to her neck, completely covering her face and betraying her embarrassment, much to Marzia’s delight.

She couldn’t help the small laugh that burst from her chest, light and carefree in the summer air until she finally managed to suppress them into sporadic giggles and settled back down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sighed, letting her smile fade ever so slightly into gentle concern, “but are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” 

Monika quickly sobered herself up as well, shaking her head and sending her short hair waving across her face with that small motion.

“I’m fine here.” She glanced down with Marzia with a hint of exasperation. “You still visit anyways.” 

Marzia couldn’t argue with that, so she simply settled for shooting her a broad grin. 

“I’ll just come more often then,” she announced. 

Monika let out a low hum, the heavy sound laced with amusement no matter how stern she tried to appear. “I can’t stop you, can I?” 

“You could,” Marzia replied easily, smile widening with every word, “but you won’t.” 

Monika sighed, an unspoken acceptance of Marzia's singsong opinion before she moved on to the next matter on her mind. “Could you sing again?” 

All of the hesitance she had struggled with earlier on was gone, leaving behind a polite formality that Marzia had come to connect with Monika herself. 

And as always, her answer was the same.

“Of course.”

She settled herself down on the earth before she picked up her lyre to strum another chord and send it out for one last melody before the night fully enveloped the sky. 

Her own voice was quiet, a song made solely for Monika to hear, as she weaved her music. 

And as the sunset finally melted away to let the moon peek through the sky under the light of the stars, Marzia shifted closer inch by inch until her head finally dropped down to rest on Monika’s shoulder, letting the melody she weaved wash over them both until sleep granted them their rest.

-

The beating of her heart was one of the first rhythms that Marzia had ever truly came to admire, the first melody she had heard as a child. 

The constant thud, the steady pulse through her veins, the rush of emotions that flooded her chest, that was the music that she had admired so deeply when she was younger. 

But now, Marzia wondered if she could drown in that music the longer time went on. 

She wasn’t sure when it had started, when the muted hum of admiration tumbled into an all-encompassing adoration that she could do little to stop. It simply dragged her along in its haphazard path, throwing her headfirst into the love that she had sang so often about. 

Monika was the perfect muse to serve as a catalyst for those whirlwind of emotions after all. 

Stoic and strong to the world, sheltering the hidden care inside that she granted with a selective hand, there was little about her that Marzia could bring herself to criticize. 

She worried from time to time if Monika would be able to see the love that overflowed from her, threatening to spill her secrets out at her feet until all she could do was pray that she would accept what little she had to offer. If that was what Monika wanted though, if that was what the dryad that had captivated Marzia so strongly asked for, then Marzia would gladly throw her love down for her without a second thought. 

She would be content without an answer to those fears, to keep that hazy affection to keep to herself and warm her with idle fantasies and softened daydreams when she was alone. 

But her answer came much faster than she expected on one unsuspecting afternoon. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Marzia glanced over her shoulder, meeting Monika’s concerned stare with a bright smile. 

“It’ll be fine!” she chirped back, checking to make sure her lyre was safely out of the way and nestled against the trunk of the oak tree. “This is your tree anyways! It’s just as strong as you!” 

But still, Monika hesitated, standing in place as her hands drifted down to clasp behind her back before they fell to her sides again as she eyed the branches with caution. “You can still fall.”

A lazy flick of Marzia’s wrist waved off that concern in a second though. 

“I’m not climbing all the way up!” she replied with a grin, pointing up to the first set of branches above her. “Just to there!” 

Monika looked between her destination and Marzia herself for a moment, gaze flickering back and forth until she finally let out a heavy sigh. 

“Just this once,” she muttered, stepping forward to join Marzia. 

Marzia couldn’t stop her grin from widening as she let out a delighted laugh, tossing her head back with joy. 

“Thank you!” That cheer only lasted a minute before her grin turned somewhat sheepish. “Now can you help me up?” 

The only way to describe the stare that Monika gave her in that moment would be incredulous, but even that quickly faded as she ducked her head and let out a miffed huff. 

Marzia still caught the small smile on her face though, and that was enough to make her joy return tenfold. 

“Fine.” Monika carefully made her way forward until she was just behind Marzia, a warm and steady presence at her back as she slowly reached out to grip Marzia’s waist. 

It was one thing to watch those hands work, but to finally have them resting on her so gingerly sent shivers down Marzia’s spine. 

“Is this alright?” Monika asked quietly, voice deep with concern. 

Marzia quickly nodded, careful to keep her lips shut to keep that little thought from escaping her. “Mhm!” 

Monika studied her closely, eyes narrowing for a brief moment before she finally nodded to herself. 

Without another word, she hefted Marzia up off the ground until she could reach up to grab the branch above her head. A part of her wondered exactly what it would be like to be held in those arms, but Marzia only soothed that brief daydream back down for later as she clambered up onto the sturdy branch. 

As soon as she scooted over to rest against the trunk of the tree, peering down with a bright smile, Monika promptly vanished once more before she reappeared on the branch just next to her. 

“See?” Marzia couldn’t keep the teasing curl out of her words as she grinned at Monika. “I told you it would be fine!” 

Monika only shook her head in response, letting out an exasperated sigh at her jest. Marzia could tell that there was no real offense in her expression though, and that was enough for her to let out a small laugh before she turned her attention to the view ahead of her. 

There wasn’t enough height to get a view of the whole forest, but the sight they had was wonderous enough on its own. 

From here, the dark clumps of bushes and thickets were spread out until they were hardly much larger than Marzia’s lyre. The sun-speckled forest floor lay splayed below her, a surface that pulsed the tide of shadows with the sway of the leaves above her head. 

She knew that the forest was a place filled with life, overflowing with song, but from here, that song surrounded her until the woods filled up the world around them with nothing but their hushed melody. 

Marzia could only stare at first, unable to think of the words fitting enough to describe the world around her before she turned to face Monika and found that same awe-struck stare aimed back at her. 

She froze under that stare, keen blue eyes flickering under the light until Marzia could have sworn that Monika had trapped the untameable ocean in her gaze. There was no song that she could have sung to describe the woman in front of her, but somehow, she managed to keep talking nonetheless.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, not daring to raise her voice above the melody of the forest around them. 

That was enough to startle Monika out of her haze, whipping her head back forward to keep her eyes on the ground.

“Yes.” Her sentences came out rushed, hurried to cover up what Marzia had just seen. “Yes, it is.” 

But that little glimpse was what filled Marzia’s chest with hope, pure and innocent as she looked over Monika. It gave her the courage to reach out to lay her hand on top of Monika’s, stunned blue meeting warm caramel in a split second.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” she said quietly. “For all of this.” 

She could already feel the protest rising up to battle that gratitude, so Marzia made sure to cut it off before it could even begin.

“I mean it,” she continued, letting out a heavy sigh that slowly peeled away the layers in her tone to reveal the flicker of insecurity beneath. “I don’t know why you keep me around. All I can give you is music, and that won’t help you grow.” 

“No.” 

Marzia froze when Monika’s voice hardened, her hand curling around with Monika’s as she tightened her grip on the wood.

“Your music-” She paused, faltering over her words before she managed to translate her thoughts properly. “Your music is very important to me.” 

Marzia had learned long ago that such a simple statement could hold layer upon layer of meaning deep within when it came to Monika. She wasn’t a woman of many words and what she did speak, she truly meant.

“I can’t explain it,” she continued, visibly struggling with each word as it came out, “but it helps me.” 

Monika fell silent for a moment, contemplation evident on her face before she finally lifted her head to meet Marzia’s gaze once more.

“Maybe not to grow, but to live.” 

And with that simple melody, not one that even Monika herself could hear, Marzia fell faster than she ever had in her life. 

Her whole body was lit aflame with nothing but sweet adoration, basking in the quiet melody that Monika had forged together for her. For all of the songs that she had made, for all of the intricate lyrics that she had composed, Marzia couldn’t think of a single thing to describe just how her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. 

So perhaps it was reckless, perhaps it was foolish, but Marzia threw her hopes into expressing those desperate feelings into one simple action. 

She leaned forward ever so slightly until she could see the depths of those deep blue eyes for herself, not daring to move any further.

“Can I-?” 

Those words brushed against Monika’s lips, but her answer came not even a second later as Monika pushed herself forward to close the distance between them. 

In that second, Marzia’s song burst from her, a melody of hushed gasps and muffled hums composed with that simple kiss. It was a song she would never sing for any other audience, one she would never dare to perform for any other living soul. 

But as she trailed one hand up to tangle in Monika’s hair, pulling her close within the safety of the deep green leaves around them, Marzia allowed that song to leave her for the woman who had inspired its very creation.

-

The only way that Marzia could describe the forest was paradise. Here, she could sing and play to her heart’s content, safe in the arms of her lover. 

That was where she found herself now, nestled in between Monika’s legs to lean back against her chest, strumming at her lyre as Monika rested her hands along her waist. 

The tune was a simple one, not much more than a ditty she had created on the spot, but it was enough work to keep her busy and it was more than enough to satisfy Monika. 

Her music filled the air, flowing with the breeze until it was swept to the very boundaries of the forest. The sound of her lyre was the only sound around them, but that gentle tune quickly stopped when heavy footsteps came to join them. 

Marzia glanced up and quickly bolted upright when she saw a man staring back at them, eyes wide as his gaze fixated on Monika. 

“You’re the nymph around here, aren’t you?” His voice took on a reverent hum, one that chilled Marzia to the core when she recognized it as a twisted variation of the tone that she had used on Monika so often. “You’re certainly as beautiful as they say you are.” 

However, the praise seemed to have little effect on Monika as her face hardened into a cold glare, standing up without ever taking her eyes off of him. 

“You’re not welcome here,” she replied, words as harsh as steel. “I do not take flattery lightly.” 

Their unwanted guest only gestured towards himself with disbelief at that statement though.

“Flattery?” he repeated. “I don’t know what kind of men you’ve been seeing, but I assure you, what I say is true.” 

Marzia felt her skin crawl with those very words, heard the hidden song deep within his voice. It was one she had heard many times before, honeyed compliments that ran off the tongue as sweet as sugar to hide the lust within in a syrupy haze. 

She glanced up at Monika, wondering if she could hear that dangerous melody as well, but the way Monika’s eyes froze into an icy blue stare certainly showed her awareness of that threat. 

“I said leave.” That simple word brought forth the strength of the earth at their feet, a deep rumble that rose from the roots of the tree she drew her power from. “Do not make me repeat myself.” 

Marzia saw the moment the man realized that his serenade had failed, kind expression falling into puzzlement before he finally looked down to meet her eyes. 

And she had never been more terrified when the cruel understanding dawned upon him. 

“Are you nymphs really all just prudes?” His eyes never left Marzia’s as she scrambled up to join Monika, who quickly stepped in front of her as soon as he started to speak. “You just can’t be bothered with men, so this is what you turn to.” 

His hand twisted for a brief moment, the harsh silver of a dagger gleaming in the sunlight. 

That was all Marzia needed to push her back towards the oak tree, keeping her gaze fixed on the knife all the while. 

“Go back!” she whispered frantically, shoving her back towards the trunk. “He’ll try to hurt the tree!” 

She knew that what she was saying was true, but she still couldn’t help the desperate thought that asked if the target would fall on her if Monika was gone. 

Despite her warning though, Monika never moved, looking between the man and Marzia for a second longer before she grabbed her hand and yanked her along as she darted into the woods. 

Marzia shrieked when she heard the deep yell and heavy footfalls chasing after them, only kept on her feet by the iron grip Monika had on her wrist. 

“Monika!” Marzia’s voice grew shrill with panic, a cacophony of noises and adrenaline she never wanted to hear surrounding her. “Monika, he’ll hurt you!” 

But Monika never even stopped for a second, sprinting through the clusters of trees as she dragged Marzia behind her all the while. 

Marzia’s head was spinning, lost in the pounding of her heart and the aching of her legs until the pain blended into desperation, sweeping her into her own mind until she had no idea where she was any longer. 

“Monika, please!” Her eyes stung with tears that had yet to fall, a scream tearing itself from her throat before she could clamp it back down. “Go back!” 

But she never paused, not even when bloody red lines started to bleed through her robes, staining the white fabric with a never-ending flow of deep crimson. She gritted her teeth and occasionally let out a sharp hiss, but Monika never stopped running and Marzia could do nothing to make her. 

It was only when she stumbled, letting out a strangled yell as she jerked her leg up, did Monika ever halt for even a moment. But Marzia had no time to get her to slow down, to convince her to go back, to find out what had caused her to stop, because in the next second, Monika was already tearing through the forest once again. 

When the sound of their pursuer behind them and the damage that he had surely done to the oak tree faded away completely, Monika finally slowed to a stop. 

She released her grip on Marzia’s wrist, turning to meet her eyes for just a second before she swayed to the side and collapsed. 

Marzia was down on her knees as soon as she hit the ground, hands fluttering around her torn clothes with no idea on how to heal them. 

“You’ll be fine,” she mumbled, desperation forcing her hope out in a final resort. “You’ll be fine. You just need to get back to the tree. You can heal there. You just need to get back. I can get you back there.” 

But something was wrong. 

That small voice whispered the problem that she could find no solution to over and over again in a looping echo. 

Something was wrong, wrong, wrong and Marzia didn’t know how to fix it. 

Her eyes scanned over Monika’s body over and over, searching for the missing link within the mess of fabric and blood. 

And she nearly missed it for how small it was, something so small that it shouldn’t have mattered at all. 

But the second she saw the twin punctures on Monika’s ankle, small enough to be nothing more than a prick from a needle, Marzia felt her blood run cold. 

Wounds could be healed with time, but time would only push poison to run its course. 

“Monika.” Her voice already started to waver, hushed reassurances and undesirable truths battling to be spoken only to be silenced when she could barely bring herself to say either. “Monika.” 

That was all she could bring herself to speak, but there was nothing else she needed to say when she looked down at Monika and saw the acceptance deep within the pained expression on her face. Her breath came out in ragged pants, letting out a deep groan as she brought one hand up to rest on her chest, a useless attempt at staunching the blood. 

And Marzia could do nothing to help her, could do nothing but watch as Monika struggled to win a losing battle. She reached out, crawling towards her until she could pull Monika’s head up to rest on her lap, brushing the messy blonde locks out of her face. 

It was all she could do now.

But Monika let out a huff, clenching her eyes shut for a moment before she opened them to meet Marzia’s once more.

“Marzia,” she said quietly, “could you sing for me?”

Marzia wasn’t even sure if she could speak at that point, but she forced herself to take a shaky breath as she smiled down at Monika. 

“Of course.” 

The song that came from her was unlike one that the world had seen. 

Grief entwined with love wrapped around each wavering note, a goodbye she had to pry from the heart that refused to let Monika go. No matter how much she tried to weave the soothing melodies that she had made so many times before, the music that left her betrayed her in the time that she needed its comfort the most. 

But Monika only closed her eyes to take in Marzia’s final gift, relaxing into her hold as Marzia’s broken song wrapped around them both. 

Marzia forced herself to sing until Monika’s hand finally fell, sinking into her lap with no strength left to hold herself up and no life left to let her listen to the last note. 

And for that she was grateful as she held her dead lover in her arms, her unsteady melody breaking into a shrill scream that shattered her world with grief for that which her song would never be able to return.