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jasonbehrs · 4 years ago

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i wanna read every word, chapter 3 + epilogue

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never met?” “Uh, do you mean like we’ve-been-doing-long-distance-slash-online-dating or like I’ve-been-crushing-on-the-cute-barista-at-the-library-cafe?” “Ummm, more like I’ve-read-their-poems-and-sure-they’re-very-talented-but-their-handwriting-alone-makes-me-smile.” “… That’s oddly specific.”

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: eunhyuk, ryeowook; guest appearances by the rest of sj-m and yesung ship: eunwook genre: romantic comedy themes: alternate endings, strangers to lovers, handwriting, identity reveal setting: college chapter: 3+4/4 word count: 5.8k

read it below or on ffnet, aff, wattpad

~~~

He and Ryeowook haven't hung out alone before, but he's sure this won't be awkward. Their only real link may have just been Yesung, but Hyukjae likes to think he successfully ingrained himself into that entire friend group in time. He tells himself that he and Ryeowook would have had a solo hangout at some point. Ryeowook's crush situation just expedited it.

They had agreed to meet at the quad but didn't specify anything beyond that, so Hyukjae chooses a bench with high visibility so that Ryeowook could find him easily. He crosses his legs and balances a laptop over one knee and a notebook over the other, figuring he could get some work in while waiting.

Not long after, the other plops himself right next to him and pulls out his own work without even saying hi.

Hyukjae keeps his face down as he smiles to himself. So Ryeowook's feeling just as apprehensive about this as he is.

Something about that realisation makes him brave enough to break the ice. "Ah, my favourite person under 5'2". How do you do?" he snarks without pausing his typing.

In response, Ryeowook uses a single finger to tip Hyukjae's notebook onto the ground without remorse.

"Okay, I deserved that," Hyukjae admits with a chuckle as he bends to pick the notebook off the ground and put it away. "So… did you bring one of the love notes?" he asks once it's apparent they didn't really have anything else yet to talk about aside from that.

"Of course!" Ryeowook rummages through his bag and pulls out what Hyukjae can only presume is the poem scrapbook he's heard the others talk about.

"Um, is there a problem?" Hyukjae asks as he eyes how Ryeowook holds the book to his chest with both hands, making no move to hand it over.

After a long moment, Ryeowook looks at him with hard eyes and a blush on his cheek. "You have to promise me you'll be careful with it. Like, if you want to look at one more closely, then tell me, and I'll take it out for you. Actually, you'll have to clean your hands first, too; I'm worried about oils. I'm pretty sure I have wet cloths somewhere in this bag…"

Hyukjae has heard the others call the scrapbook "a little extra." He privately agrees, but seeing the way Ryeowook is so protective over the thing makes him think perhaps Ryeowook himself is, in fact, a lot of extra.

He wisely leaves those thoughts unvoiced and instead motions for Ryeowook to hurry up. The other hesitantly hands over the book, and Hyukjae makes a big show of settling it calmly on his lap.

It would have been funnier if Ryeowook hadn't legitimately sighed with relief at his action.

Hyukjae lets it go; and with more interest than he expected from himself, he opens to the first page.

"Where did you get these?!" he yelps before he could help it.

"What? Why are you yelling? What!?"

Hyukjae can only distantly hear the other, however, as he is far more preoccupied with the absolute whiplash of recognising his own handwriting in the scrapbook. Page after page is filled with his rejected songwriting assignments, now forever immortalised thanks to Ryeowook's tender care.

Ryeowook flicks him in the forehead, and he struggles to collect himself. "Um, I mean. Um. Wow! This looks like an impressive collection," he stutters out awkwardly. "And, uh, actually! I don't think you ever told me the whole story?" he blabbers, knowing full well he actually has heard the whole story but needing to redirect Ryeowook's attention towards anything other than him right now.

So he sits there and lets Ryeowook gush over Poem Person, identifying that he is slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that said person is actually him.

Sassy, doting, health-nut Ryeowook is wistfully waxing poetic over him, over his words, over his handwriting (a concept so baffling he actually has to stifle a chuckle in real life lest he hint to Ryeowook he is not actually paying attention).

He nods absentmindedly and offers encouraging smiles at what he hopes at the right places, but his mind is more concerned with figuring out: What the fuck is he gonna do?

~I think I must be broken somewhere. Since when did I start not welcoming even myself?~

The answer, apparently, is string Ryeowook along.

Ryeowook may have initially been hesitant about getting Hyukjae's help; but now that he has it, he has bolstered his efforts to track down and meet Poem Person. Hyukjae is astounded at his forward and creative ideas, stuff like signing up to audit the class one day or even straight up coveringthe chair in chalk so that he could easily spot the person walking around campus.

"Honestly, I need a sidekick, someone to help me pull these things off," Ryeowook explains one day while they're brainstorming over lunch.

Well, Ryeowook's brainstorming.

"I'm also kinda hoping you'll be close enough to the student to act like a wingman when we finally do meet. First impressions are everything, you know."

Hyukjae, for his part, is busy trying to maintain his poker face.

He didn't come clean to Ryeowook in the quad that day because he didn't want the awkwardness. Hyukjae was not mentally ready to hear that his brand new friend had been harbouring a crush on and had been engaging in borderline-stalker behaviour over little ol' him, and he suspects Ryeowook wouldn't have taken the news very well in the moment either.

Now though, he's just trying to maintain the status quo.

It's no secret that Ryeowook had built up an idea of what Poem Person is like in his head. What's the harm in letting him have a little crush on a figment of his imagination?

So yes, he continues to plot with Ryeowook, he continues to bother Donghae by tossing scrap assignments at him in class, he continues the whole ruse.

The harm, as Hyukjae is quick to discover, is that he grossly miscalculated the effect the lie would have on him.

It starts with a text.

Are we still on for tomorrow at 2?

yep. the student union still good?

Yep, see ya there

"Who are you texting?" Siwon asks as he plops beside Hyukjae on their apartment couch, his attention mostly trained on his own phone.

"Huh? Oh, just Ryeowook. I told you about him; I'm helping him meet this guy he has a crush on."

Siwon raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his phone. "Oh? You were smiling at that phone like someone agreed to go on a date with you."

Hyukjae stiffens. "I was not."

That makes Siwon look up. Hyukjae valiantly meets his gaze, but he breaks eye contact just a moment later.

"... Right."

Curiously, fear follows shortly after.

Hyukjae doesn't even notice it at first. It was too subtle compared to the overwhelming confidence he gets from being around Ryeowook. With the way the other talks about him, to him, without knowing it's him… it's a heady feeling. (Case in point: The day before a modern dance midterm, Ryeowook texted him a photo of a recent Hyukjae original along with a copious amount of heart-eye emojis, and Hyukjae felt so energised that his professor pulled him to the side after his performance and concernedly asked him point-blank if he had started taking steroids.)

Ryeowook doesn't just see the best in him. He guesses at Hyukjae's flaws and turns them into superpowers. He paints an image of Hyukjae in colours that he wasn't even aware existed. It's an instant ego boost.

It isn't long, however, until Hyukjae stops hearing musings and starts hearing expectations. Ryeowook believes in a vibrant, exciting, romantic persona; someone smart and adventurous who can enable him to be as silly as he has the potential to be.

Since when was Hyukjae any of those things?

He isn't afraid of Ryeowook's wrath when the jig is eventually up, no. Wrath he could handle; wrath he deserves. Instead, he is afraid of the disappointment, the unimpressed "Oh." that Ryeowook couldn't help but let slip once he processes the truth. Hyukjae wouldn't be able to handle seeing the light in Ryeowook's eyes—the light that used to be reserved for him even if the other didn't know it—dim.

And finally comes realisation.

"Don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Hyukjae asks him one evening. They got to-go meals from the dining hall and moved as far west as they could without leaving the campus entirely. The sun is due to set any minute now, and they wanted the best seats possible.

"What do you mean?" Ryeowook asks with furrowed brows still trained on the skyline.

"You've spent so much time thinking about this guy, analysing his mood and habits and whatever. You'll meet him for the first time, but it won't really be the first time for you, you know? You'll know all this stuff about him already whereas you're a complete stranger to him. That's gotta be, like, a power imbalance or something, right? That's not fair to either of you. You've mentioned before that you don't necessarily want to date Poem Person, but that's not even a good basis for being friends with him."

Ryeowook glances at him from the corner of his eye and smirks. "If Mi were here, he'd have a lot to say right now."

Hyukjae chuckles as he lets the other change the subject. "He'd actually have only one thing to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Ryeowook hums but doesn't say anything else, attention still mostly on the sun's slow descent to the horizon. Hyukjae would have liked an answer, but he gets it. He just sprung all that on the other without any preamble, and Ryeowook probably needs time to think. Hyukjae isn't entirely sure what he wanted to hear anyway.

Ryeowook doesn't speak again until the sky finally begins to bleed red, a threatening promise for the end of the day. "You have a point, of course. I'll constantly be comparing the person he is to the person I made him out to be, even when I don't mean to, but… Something tells me that won't matter as much in the long run." He chuckles, low and with disbelief. "I couldn't tell you why; but I feel like even if I told him the whole story, even if the first things I ever say to him are the questionable antics I've engaged in just to meet him, he wouldn't run away."

And he would be right, of course. Look at where Hyukjae is now.

"You're thinking too highly of him," Hyukjae says. He means it as a way to distract from the mortifying ordeal of being known, but it comes out bitter without his permission.

Ryeowook smirks. "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Ooooh, are you lonely?" he teases. "Don't worry, I pay back my debts. Just tell me as soon as someone catches your attention. I can't promise forever, but I can promise a first date, for sure." He winks.

There is a long moment between when the sky finally turns black and when the streetlights flicker to life, one conveniently spotlighting the pair with its glow. It mocks Hyukjae with its inevitability.

~This night blesses the day we meet. The moon is open in the sky, and the stars smile.~

"Hyung, I'm bored."

"Okay."

"Entertain me."

"In a minute, I'm reading something for class."

"What's it about?"

"The cultural impact of Black youth on the interfaces of music and body expression in early 1970s New York City."

He appreciates Ryeowook's offer to swing by and keep him company while he studies in one of the many lounges strewn about academic campus, but he'd appreciate it a lot more if Ryeowook would actually let him study.

Ryeowook blinks. "I understood all of those words individually."

Hyukjae drags a hand down his tired face. "I'm basically in the same boat, so please? I'll do whatever you wanna do as long as I can make it to the third page of this article today. I really need to participate in tomorrow's seminar or else I'll have to take a make-up quiz."

"Fiiine," Ryeowook whines, but he thankfully starts scrolling through his phone in silence.

After a few minutes of quality reading, Hyukjae hears Ryeowook rummaging around, so he languidly raises his eyes to see how the other is choosing to preoccupy himself.

He shoots up out of his seat, barely taking the time to set his laptop down properly in his haste. "What are you doing with that!"

Ryeowook looks up from where he is crouched besides Hyukjae's open bookbag, holding a notebook in his hand. "Oh, did you need this?"

"For what? No. What?" Hyukjae spouts in rapid fire, thrown-off by how Ryeowook responded to his question with one of his own.

Ryeowook's eyes light up. "Excellent! I thought you needed this for your homework," he comments as he lets himself fall backwards onto his butt. "I was just gonna read your handwriting while I waited. I can't believe I never thought to check yours out before. I've basically gone through everyone else's in the friend group."

Hyukjae could kick himself for letting such a good excuse slip right out of his hands, but the room seems to have gone in slow motion as Ryeowook proceeds to open up the notebook to a random page. Like a man possessed, Hyukjae dives straight for Ryeowook's lap, successfully knocking the notebook out of the other's grasp in the process.

…

"Hi," he says over his shoulder when the silence has gone on for too long. Ryeowook raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Hyukjae chuckles awkwardly while he manoeuvers himself out of Ryeowook's lap with as much grace as a baby deer on ice. He quickly snatches up his notebook while Ryeowook is still prone and simply observing his movements, and then he doesn't know what to do next.

Ryeowook takes over from here, standing up calmly and striding right into Hyukjae's personal space. Despite having several centimetres on the other, Hyukjae cannot help but feel small under the other's assessing gaze. "There is clearly something in that notebook you don't want me to see."

Hyukjae eyes the room, trying to calculate his odds. "Yes," he hesitantly confirms.

Ryeowook narrows his eyes. "Is it about me?" he asks with an edge to his voice.

"No." The half-truth comes out much quicker, thankfully.

Ryeowook purses his lips then nods. He takes two steps back, and Hyukjae almost does something silly like reach for his waist to keep him nearby. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you finish your homework without intruding on your privacy. In return, you'll buy me boba and bring me a notebook I can read the next time we meet."

Hyukjae sighs with relief and readily agrees to those terms.

A few days later, he confidently hands over Siwon's old notebook from their shared Psych 101 class and a medium taro boba.

Ryeowook opens up to the first page then laughs in Hyukjae's face, high and bright. "This is your notebook?" he manages to ask through his cackles. "No wonder you didn't want me seeing it. You must have known I was going to make fun of you."

"Why? Why?" Hyukjae demands, affronted. It may not have been his handwriting, but still.

"It's like your handwriting is Jekyll, and you're Hyde. I look at this, and I don't see you at all."

Hyukjae looks over Ryeowook's shoulder to see what he's working with, and he can't help but agree. Siwon's handwriting is neat, consistent, and in perfect lines straight across the page. Rich kids and their calligraphy classes, dammit.

Nevertheless, he tries to salvage the situation. "Come on, you know I'm a neat person."

Ryeowook snorts, but he nods his head in agreement. "That may be true; but if someone had to write a list of things about you, 'neat' wouldn't even make it in the top 50."

"Can you think of 50 things about me?" Hyukjae teases as he slinks back around to Ryeowook's front, effortlessly plucking the notebook out of the other's hands in the process.

Ryeowook crosses his newly freed arms in front of his chest and smirks. "Yep. 1 would be that you're a brat, and 50 would be that your feet smell."

"Yah! My shoes don't breathe!" Hyukjae whines. "I want 50 nice things," he continues above Ryeowook's snickers.

"Oof, that'll be tough. How about just 5, and you get to pick what movie we watch next?" Ryeowook haggles.

Hyukjae rolls his eyes but agrees. He'll take what he can get.

"1: You're not half-bad at impressions. 2: You like strawberry and chocolate, but only as separate flavours," Ryeowook starts, counting off on his fingers as he goes. "3: You're great at charades. 4: Everybody likes you because 5: you know exactly what to be, do, or say when the situation calls for it. You're not just flexible as a dancer, but as a person, and it's the best thing about you."

Hyukjae doesn't fight the toothy grin that stretches wide across his face. "You think so?"

Ryeowook nods very seriously, but there is an undeniable glimmer in his eyes. "Absolutely. With a lack of other suitable candidates, it's your best quality by default."

~I don't know why you keep staying with me. I lack so much for you, and I'm sorry about that.~

It would be easier to stop being in love with Ryeowook if the other didn't actually seem to value his company and insights.

There are days when they've hung out and talked about anything and everything but the song lyrics, when Ryeowook will bake Hyukjae strawberry scones and give him meaningful feedback on his choreography. They're both witty but in different ways, so they're always cracking up; and in those moments, he can't help but imagine he's already told the truth, that Ryeowook has already accepted him, and that this is what they could look like together.

But then he looks into Ryeowook's eyes and the warmth he sees there burns at a different temperature than the warmth he feels, and Hyukjae is painfully reminded that is not the case.

He can only take so much.

Despite knowing in his gut that it's the absolute wrong call to make, Hyukjae retreats. Stuck between yearning for Ryeowook yet fearing facing him and being frustrated with himself for equivocating on what to do, it's easier to just not do anything at all. He cancels more, begs off group hangouts, throws himself into his dance rehearsals. He even attempts going to the gym once just to keep his mind occupied and off of the problem.

Honestly, life could get better.

As he presses 'ignore' on the nth call he's received from Ryeowook that week, he offhandedly notices that blowing the other off feels way worse than lying in the first place. Let's see him spin that into a positive.

Hyukjae's doing great on his passive, brooding agenda until a few weeks later when he accidentally looks up from where he was perusing just as Henry enters the music library. By virtue of the youngest's classical performance degree, the two of them share the most colleagues and classes of any pair in the group.

He is honestly lucky it took so long.

He offers a stiff nod in acknowledgement and hopes that that's that, but Henry wanders over to his aisle with too much nonchalance to have not been intentional.

He doesn't leave Hyukjae in suspense for too long. "Ryeowook-hyung won't stop baking, you know."

"Huh?" Hyukjae asks dumbly, thrown completely off-guard from the unexpected comment.

"Seriously, he won't stop. You could get drunk off the stench of vanilla extract permanently in the air of the apartment."

Hyukjae realises with regret that he's never had a good opportunity to hang with the group at Ryeowook and Mi's apartment. "Oh. That's good, I guess."

"It would be better if we were allowed to eat any of it," Henry says, flicking through the records in front of him. Hyukjae almost believes it's a fake, idle action, but sometimes Henry nods and writes something down on his phone after inspecting an album.

"Yeah, it would be," Hyukjae offers at last for lack of anything better to say. Despite the stilted and tense atmosphere, he feels compelled to continue the conversation.

Henry nods again, but Hyukjae could tell that's for him. "I think he's saving it for someone that he expects to come by, but who else would come aside from any of us, you know?"

It is unclear if Henry includes Hyukjae in that 'us,' but Hyukjae doesn't dwell on it. Something much more pressing is on his mind. "What kind of stuff is he baking?" he asks, very afraid of the answer.

"He's been experimenting. Caramel chip cookies, cinnamon-lemon cupcakes, strawberry scones… But you know him. It's all low-fat, protein-enhanced flour shit; pretty sure he'd get kicked out of the nutrition program if it weren't," Henry says with a chuckle, but Hyukjae can't bring himself to laugh along.

Those all sound perfectly delicious, and something worse than vanity tells him that that's on purpose. The thought fills Hyukjae with so much more guilt that tears press against his eyes.

"Um, t-thanks, but I gotta—I gotta go," he stutters out through unmoving lips. What it is he's thanking Henry for, he has no clue; but he's far more preoccupied with exiting stage left from this scene as soon as humanly possible. "It was good to see you again," he adds as a reflex, already two steps further down but still facing Henry.

Henry raises his head from the jewel cases just as Hyukjae reaches the end of the aisle, and the slight smile he gives is so loaded with patronisation, pity, and perception that Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs.

~Longing is a beautiful pain I thought I could endure.~

After a whole class of not paying attention to a single minute—instead, wondering if maybe he should just get out with it, all of it: the deception, his feelings—Hyukjae leaves to find Ryeowook waiting right outside the door for him to exit.

"You don't normally get up this early," he comments in surprise, walking up to the other before he could help himself.

Ryeowook shrugs. "Well, I needed to talk to you, and I realised I didn't know enough about you. I don't know where you live, where you normally like to hang out; all I knew for sure is that you had class in this room at this time, so… Anyway, can we talk?"

Hyukjae's immediate instinct is to come up with an excuse, any excuse—he spent a whole class thinking about what he would do next time he faced Ryeowook but still hadn't settled on an answer—but Ryeowook reads his hesitation for what it is and makes the decision for him.

"Actually, we're going to talk whether you want to or not! Starting with: why have you been avoiding the group, avoiding me!" he yells. Hyukjae winces from Ryeowook's harsh words and high tone but can't bring himself to say or do anything more to stop the tirade. He's in no position to ask for leniency.

"I turned it over and over in my head, and I realised: I didn't even do anything! Are you mad at me because I didn't take enough time to get to know you? Are you tired of helping me? Why are you—you should have used your words and said something—whatever it was that was bothering you!—instead of just ignoring me like that!"

Hyukjae only notices that Ryeowook's volume and impassioned speech is attracting attention from other students and faculty in the hallway because he's avoiding the other's gaze, but he knows Ryeowook would be embarrassed about it later.

He hurriedly ushers them back inside Bomnal 235 despite Ryeowook's protests. The other angrily shrugs off Hyukjae's touch as soon as possible and stomps to the rear right quadrant of the room to sit, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid movement and pouting cutely.

Well, Hyukjae would think it was cute if he noticed it. His attention is instead captured by Ryeowook's choice of seating. If Ryeowook practiced the same seats code of conduct, then…

Without really thinking about it, he moves up and slides into his own seat, exactly behind Ryeowook's. He can tell the other is surprised he doesn't sit next to him, but Hyukjae focuses instead on the half-baked plan that formed in the time it took to ascend the stairs.

Ryeowook is petulantly turned towards the front, sure that he's said his piece already and waiting for Hyukjae to talk. Instead, he feels something light and crunchy hit the back of his head. "Yah!" he yelps, turning to glare at the offender, who is steadfastly scrawling something down on his notebook.

"You're doing it again. You're ignoring me instead of talking to me. If you're just gonna sit there and do homework, I'm gonna lea—YAH!" He's cut off by another bunched up piece of paper hurtling right for him, which he angrily swats away in mid-air. "What are you doing!?" he demands, but Hyukjae just throws another wad of paper at his desk instead, his aim perfectly allowing the paper to land right next to where Ryeowook's notebook would have been if he were in class... almost like he's done it dozens of times before.

Ryeowook frowns and picks up the most recent paper and smooths it open before gasping.

He would recognise this handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding my only crumpled wish You and I are in it

He quickly lifts his eyes back to Hyukjae, who refuses to meet his gaze even as he throws another wad of paper at Ryeowook's desk. Ryeowook picks up the first one that bounced off the back of his head and scrambles to find the second one which he had swatted away.

In this very short moment I'm just following my feelings

With trembling fingers, he finally opens the first one, which reads, "Didn't you say you'd recognise my handwriting anywhere?"

He looked up with cloudy eyes to see his desk slowly being overrun with scraps of paper and Hyukjae continuing to write on. Ryeowook slowly walks up to the paper pile and begins opening them one by one.

I'm sorry it turned out this way.

On each paper is a single sentence,

Honestly, I thought you were a lot of extra.

a confession, sometimes, or a timeline.

The sun set, that streetlight flicked on, and I knew it for sure.

As he reads the pages in no certain order,

You thought so highly of me, I was flattered and burdened all at once.

he literally pieces together Hyukjae's story,

What else was I supposed to do except throw them on his desk and annoy him?

from when he first realised the truth

It was so embarrassing to see all my rejected song lyrics immortalised forever by your hands.

to why he had avoided the other.

I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to hurt me either.

As he continues reading, Ryeowook couldn't help but feel there is something missing, something that ties the whole narrative together. Alas, even after he finishes all the pieces on his desk, he couldn't figure out what.

Far past the point of anger and instead seeking to simply, finally understand, he looks to Hyukjae, who finally meets his gaze.

Without Hyukjae's constant scratching at his notebook paper, the classroom is loudly silent. He underhand tosses one final wad of paper to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook reads the intention in the action and catches it easily. He opens it up to read a final set of lyrics.

I still can't say the words Those words that make my voice run dry I love you more than anyone else

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. "You love me?" he asks with trembling lips, voice no louder than a whisper but reaching Hyukjae all the same.

Hyukjae slouches into his seat, hands outstretched and anxiously tapping his pen on the table. He keeps his head turned to the side when he nods. "I couldn't help it."

"And you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?'"

Hyukjae snaps into an upright position. "I wanted to!" He looks Ryeowook in the eye, trying to express as much sincerity as possible. "By god, I wanted to. But the way you talked about Poem Person… That's the guy you deserve. He wouldn't have led you on for weeks because he's a coward," he spits out.

"But he did."

"But he shouldn't have."

"But he's telling me now."

"But he wasted your time!"

"Why are you talking about yourself like that; he's you!"

"You didn't know that until five minutes ago!"

Ryeowook takes a moment, and Hyukjae forces himself to match the lowered state of tension that results. "It's not so hard to believe, now that I know the truth," the other says after a beat.

Hyukjae doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. Ryeowook rolls his eyes. "You've heard me go on and on about your impulsiveness and emotional depth and whatever." He gestures to the pile of papers in front of him. "That's what this all seems like to me."

"I can't possibly have been what you expected, what you were hoping for," Hyukjae argues, trying to force the situation into a boiling point. He just laid himself bare in front of the person he's in love with, and none of his worst-case scenarios have come to fruition yet.

"I was hoping to meet the person with the lazy H's and the perpetually rose-coloured glasses, that's it," Ryeowook maintains calmly, but Hyukjae doesn't feel calm at all. He just keeps tapping, and Ryeowook sighs. "What I expected doesn't even matter. I knew there was a real person behind those notes, someone who came with all the complexities being a person entails. All my daydreams were just that; and even if every single one of them were wrong, and for some reason I couldn't handle that disappointment, that's on me. How I reacted to finally meeting you was not your responsibility."

"Are you?"

"What?"

Here it comes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hyukjae."

The soft tone of Ryeowook's voice makes his heart clench, and Hyukjae shuts his eyes in self-preservation.

His anxiously tapping hand is stopped later by an equally soft touch, and he looks up in shock.

He hesitates to recognise the warmth he finds in Ryeowook's kind, earnest eyes. It's different from what he's seen before, but he doesn't want to categorise it any further than that. Has he imagined this temperature so much that it doesn't look out of place?

Ryeowook can see the moment Hyukjae focuses on him again, and he brings his other hand to squeeze both of Hyukjae's in turn.

"How could I be?" he asks, and he means it.

~I'll hold your two hands and confess, I pinky promise. Thank you for coming to me.~

EPILOGUE

Mi hums to himself as he turns the key to the lock of his apartment front door, arms laden with grocery bags…

… Which he allows to drop to the floor in shock as soon as he catches sight of the couple making out on the couch.

Ryeowook and Hyukjae break apart at the noise, heavily panting and cheeks flushed. Neither of them stop staring at him, and he cannot stop staring back.

Mi has so many thoughts running through his head, like Since when has that been a thing? and I can never sit on that couch again, but the one that comes out is, "What about Poem Person?"

If possible, Ryeowook and Hyukjae's cheeks flush even further, and Mi's incredulity slowly makes way for glee as he expects their response.

The caught pair turn to each other, communicating hurriedly through eye contact and muscle twitches alone before facing Mi again.

"Um, well, long story short…" Ryeowook begins.

"It was me," Hyukjae finishes.

Mi can't help it as he begins crying real, happy tears.

The gender has finally been confirmed.

~This happiness I noticed can be our starting point.~

~~~

A/N (6.14.2021): Wow, hasn't this been a ride! Eternal thanks everyone for reading and commenting; thanks Dorcas for your support; and thanks Amy for being my sanity check. If you hadn't already noticed, SJ lyrics were abound in the fic, whether in section breaks, narration, or dialogue! Were you able to recognise all of the songs? :D

Also, now that you've read the whole story, I'd love to know: Did you notice that neither Eunhyuk nor Ryeowook ever feel guilt for their brands of dishonesty? As written, do the chapters progress in such a way that it is sensible—maybe even natural—despite the lack of it?

If you did notice, did that impact your reading experience at all? If you didn't, does knowing now change anything? And ultimately, in a story whose crux is deception, is guilt necessary for redemption?

Share your thoughts in a review, comment, PM, DM, whatever!

#super junior #super junior fanfiction #ryeowook #eunwook #eunhyuk #jaso*#iwrew

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anandsamir · 5 years ago

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★ ━ ( dev patel, male, he/him ) ━ ★ just to be clear, ya didn’t get this information from me. The person you’re lookin’ for is SAMIR ANAND. also known as SAM. Last I heard they were born on AUGUST 12, 1990 in SILVER CITY, NEW MEXICO, and they’ve been livin’ here in DOWNTOWN PORTLAND, for about THREE MONTHS. Word around the districts is, SAM can be CYNICAL, BLUNT, and FLAKY, but alls I seen is good things, like the fact that they’re CAREFREE, LOYAL, and QUIXOTIC, but guess that depends on how well ya know ‘em. The last thing ya need to know is that they work as a/an PÂTISSIER AT PETITE PROVENCE and I don’t know much about what that’s like but I do know that’s all I can tell ya the rest you gotta find out on ya, own.

howdy, howdy babes !! my name is naomi, i’m a 24 year old pisces who technically lives in pst but between animal crossing and just me being an overall sleep DEMON i keep the worst hours imaginable. if you prefer discord please don’t hesitate to just dm me, just give me some time to reply i promise its not you, its me mentally replying and then going to get a snack and uhoh its been 3 hours and now im nervous that i’ve made it terribly awkward. p.s. please be gentle with me, i haven’t rp’ed in a proper group in ages but all my friends are busy and this rp just happened to be at the top of the tags when i was searching so i thought it was fate.

TL;DR of my 3am frenzy writing ( ie the bio i submitted and thought yes this is good shit ):

samir is a leo sun, taurus moon, libra rising bad bitch.

just kidding, he’s just trying to piece his life back together after getting the shock of his life.

he was raised by parents who supported his creative endeavors and though he compared himself to his successful older sister, he found his own footing in the culinary world and flourished.

he worked tirelessly through both stages of chef and pastry but just as he thought he had it figured out his fiance(e) called off their engagement.

devastated he took the best/cheapest within reason flight back to america ( business because a 14 to 20 hour flight is no joke and its not like he has deposits to pay anymore aNYWAY )

since he’s been in portland he’s done everything and anything to keep busy when he’s not working.

so they could have met anywhere! or can meet soon :)

sam really needs a dog but if he can stop to pet your muse’s dog that’s just as good. he’s 100% the type to ask about any potential dog allergies and then make them homemade treats

connection ideas ??:

your muse stopped sam from petting fish in a park pond. he swears up and down that he wasn’t trying to steal them but he’s not sure if they believe him or not.

even though they live in vastly different neighborhoods, someone’s package got delivered to the wrong house and they delivered it to the right house. ( super open, he would do this even if your muse wouldn’t so don’t worry ^^ )

your muse knows that he misread a casting call that he thought was for personal security but was actually for a stripper cop and he had to apologize profusely his first week in portland

your muse heard samir tell his sister on the phone that batman wasn’t that great and your muse did nothing when he got hit by a bike for walking in the bike lane

actually, siri, alexa, and google home are wire taps you paid for conversations dead sober at any time is 100% appropriate

samir proudly said michelangelo for ‘who invented the light bulb’ at a pub trivia night and he’s never been back since

can i interest you in a drunken self debate on C vs F? the answer is temperature sucks and measuring sucks and you know what doesn’t suck? shooooooots

they are decent enough friends but your muse works up the courage to ask why he has so many odd frog trinkets and he has to awkwardly explain that instead of developing a palpable personality around his parents when he was a teen he just told them he like frogs so now they send him dumb stuff like froggie oven mitts and frog keychains and its just gone on for so long he actually does like them and please take one of the three frog umbrellas his mom sent him when he told her he moved to portland and she said, ‘hm, rainy’ and sent them with her next care package.

they travel similar routes around the same time and every day and the one day samir says to himself that he won’t have the backbone of a chocolate eclair the only thing that pops out of his mouth is ‘you dress like a cartoon character’ and he’s never emotionally recovered -- its logically a uniform but why is he like that

just nine mini ideas for luck, but i was just playing around we can brainstorm together or just throw them into some ridiculous situation and let what happens happens. i should be up around noon pst bc thats just the type of person i am lol.

#pb:intro #queue'd !! for dramatic effect

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teejiplier · 5 years ago

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Letter Plights and Starry Nights

Summary: Yancy stayed in prison, and you couldn't change his mind, the least you could do was ask him what was in it and tell him what was in yours.

Content Warning: Angst

Relationship: Yancy/Reader

AO3 Link: X

AN: First off, I'd like to give credit where credit is due. The first piece goes to thehalfdemonwitchfromamestris here on tumblr for sparking the majority of this fic. They wrote a letter from Yancy to the reader and since I saw that I could not get the idea of Yancy writing letters out of my head. The second piece of credit goes to Fandomtrash_247 over on ao3. They wrote an amazing story about giving Yancy a perfect day on his first day out of prison, and I wanted to try my hand at that.

LASTLY! I would just like to thank the entire Cursed Trails Penitentiary discord server, without whom this fic would've not been created, continued, or even finished. A special thanks to Mary for beta-ing this and honestly? just thanks to her in general. She's awesome. Love her.

Anyways, here you go. This fic has been a labor of love over the time I've been writing it and I hope you enjoy the fruits of said labor.

The night Yancy had broken you out of Happy trails was one of the most bittersweet moments of your life. Yes, you were out, but Yancy was staying. You offered him to come with you, to run off together. He said no, of course, his heart in the right place. He knew he had to serve his sentence.

"Maybe next time parole comes up, I'll give it a shot."

That gave you hope.

"Hey, visitation, every third Sunday."

And that broke your heart.

You knew you couldn't come back, it'd be too risky. So you left. You gripped the key in your hands and began planning. If he did go for parole when it came up, you would make sure it would be the best day of his life.

That would take time though, and you would need to ask Yancy some questions. So you decided, if you couldn't visit him, you would write to him.

Dear Yancy,

I know you're not going to be a fan of this, but I won't be able to come visit you. It's too risky. I could get locked up again. And as much as I would love to enjoy spending more time with you, you worked so hard to get me out and I can't let that go to waste. So I've decided to write you a letter. I hope that you'll write me back, but I understand if you'd rather cease all communication with me. My address is below if you do want to write back though.

Love Your Friend,

Y/N

As soon as you had written the letter, your insecurities rose. What if he really didn't want to talk to you ever again? What if he wanted to forget about you? What if he didn't like you in that regard? All these questions and more plagued your mind, causing you to debate on whether or not you should send the letter.

No. You had to send this to him. He deserved that at least. To know you were alive. To know you cared.

Before you knew it, you had sealed up the envelope, addressed it, and took it to the post office. It was out of your hands now. The ball was in his court.

Visitation day had come and gone, and Yancy hadn't seen hide nor hair of Y/N. He had thought they were too good to be true, and right he was. His thoughts often drifted back to them, despite his best efforts, and he couldn't help but feel as though a part of him was missing.

Yancy wasn't sure to make off the fact that he had received a letter. He wasn't exactly sure why someone would mail him something, much less knew anyone on the outside who would. The return address was sketchy, to say the least, as it was from an area he wasn't familiar with.

Regardless, he opened the envelope to see a small letter, in handwriting he didn't recognize. But as he began to read it, he realized immediately who it was. It was you. He was slightly downtrodden at the fact that he wouldn't be able to see you and that you would ever think he never wanted to talk to you ever again. But he was able to move past that, as he realized that you cared about him. You sent him a letter. Handwritten, through the mail, postage stamp and everything. The amount of trouble you went through to let him know you were alright was comforting.

He read it over and over again, memorizing your signature, committing it to memory. As soon as he was done, he ran to find paper and something to write with.

Hey Y/N,

I know it's been a while since the last time we talked. But I just wanted to let youse know, that I would never wanna stop talking to someone as amazing as youse. I can't get youse outta my head. Ise understands why youse couldn't just come and see me. That's what I like about youse, how smart youse is, how creative, how caring. It's so good to hear from youse, an' I hope Ise can look forward to another letter of yours.

Your Friend, (Ise never know how to end these things.)

Yancy

It had been about a month since you had sent your letter to Yancy, and you had just about given up hope of him sending you a response. Of course, you knew it would take time for the letter to get out there, and if he had written a response back, it would take a while to get to you.

Not to mention the fact that the letters could've gotten lost in the process.

This was the conversation you had with yourself every day as you went to go check the mail.

Bills, bills, junk, Happy Trails Penitentiary, more junk, more bills.

Wait. You cycled back through your mail to see in fact that you had received a letter from Happy Trails Penitentiary. And you just hoped against all hope that it was from Yancy. You rushed back to your room to open the letter, not quite paying attention to anything else.

You eagerly opened the envelope reaching the letter inside. As soon as you had begun to read it, you knew it was Yancy. And the little signature at the end confirmed it. You marveled at the letter, all of your previous insecurities melting away as you read it over and over again.

With each new read through, you noticed something new about the letter. You noticed his handwriting, and how much it suited him. Small letters, cramped, excited, but still legible. You noticed how he had erased certain parts which wrinkled the paper and written over it. Maybe he had things he wanted to say that he was afraid of saying just like you. But you didn't indulge that thought. It was dangerous. An easy way to get your heartbroken. Instead, you turned that excitement towards writing him a reply.

Hey Yancy,

I am so happy that you got my letter. And I'm even happier to have received a reply from you. And I'm so glad you understand. It hurts so much that I can't see your face. But hopefully, we'll be able to see each other soon. I know you mentioned maybe going for parole, and I was wondering if that was still a possibility? I hope so.

If you are gonna go for parole, I'll be there if you'll have me. I was hoping we could spend the day together. You could come stay with me, until you find your own place, that is. Or forever if you want.

So that leads me to my next question, if you could have anything in the world what would it be? Okay actually that might be a bit too broad, so let's start with this. Where would you like to go to eat? A nice diner, a busy restaurant, maybe just a little cafe? I never got the chance to learn your favorite food. The choice is yours and if you want to go somewhere different, I'm all for it!

Sincerely, (I never know how to end these either, it always feels so formal)

Y/N

Every day Yancy woke up, he eagerly asked if there was any mail for him. More often than not, there wasn't. Which pained him, as this was the only way he could talk to you. To keep himself busy, he would read over the previous letter you had sent him. He had kept it safe, right next to his bed in the top drawer of the bedside table.

He didn't just enjoy reading it either. He would flip it over, and feel the impression the words had left on the paper. For some strange reason, it made him feel as though he was closer to you. He felt as though he was there while you were writing to him. And it made him happier, the fact that you had pushed down so hard to leave an imprint on the back. It made him feel as though you had been excited to write to him

He hoped at least.

It was during one of these musings that he was snapped out of his trance as he heard a rapping on his cell door.

"Letter for you Yancy, and it looks like it's from the same place as that other one you got about a month ago." The guard said, handing Yancy the envelope.

"Thanks, Boggs," Yancy replied, taking the letter," 'preciate it a lot."

He read over the letter, elated that you would want to see him again, and possibly spend more time with him if he stayed with you. He laughed at the end, feeling solidarity at the fact that you hadn't really figured out how to end your letter either.

He was touched at the fact that you wanted to spend the entire day with him, and even considered to ask what he would want to do.

He wondered how lucky he was to have met you. Completely, if he was being honest with himself.

Dear Y/N,

How could I not write back to youse? Youse is perfect. It woulda been rude of me not to. An' as far as parole goes, it can't come soon enough, Ise sent in my appeal. An' I have to ask, is youse sure I wouldn't be imposin' on youse or nothin'? Ise ain't even outta here an' it already feels like youse is doin' so much for me. Once I'm out, I'll make sure to repay ya.

The only thing I really want is you.

Where would Ise like to go an' eat? I honestly have no clue. I've been in here so long, I kinda forget what it's like out there. But the one thing Ise does know I want is if it could be somewhere quiet, somewhere intimate , somewhere wit' not that many people. As charming as you might think Ise am, Ise don't do too well in big crowds. But Ise trusts ya, so I'll letcha choose.

An' youse keeps askin' me all dese questions, how 'bout I ask you one? How's your life been since you got out? Youse hasn't really mentioned much, an' if you don't wanna share that's fine, but I thought I'd ask. Just to make sure youse is doin' alright too.

Love, Warmly,

Yancy

You had been keeping yourself busy since Yancy's last letter, coming to the conclusion that it would take about a month for your letter the get there and then get a reply. So until then, you threw yourself into work, writing, anything to keep you busy. Interestingly enough, you threw yourself mainly into cooking. Even though you had asked Yancy where he would want to go to eat, you thought that maybe that could be lunch, and then you could make him dinner. Which gave you an idea for what to do to end that day.

When you had finished planning, you went down to check the mail, and lo and behold, you had received a letter from Happy Trails Penitentiary. You smiled as wondered what Yancy has said in response to your idea.

As you read over the letter, you felt your heart swell. He cared about you. He wanted to spend time with you. He wanted to get to know you. It was a lot to deal with. And he wanted to know how you were doing. He wanted to know if you were ok. The sentiment nearly brought tears to your eyes as you began to pen your response.

My dearest, Dear Yancy,

I wouldn't have held it against you if you hadn't written back. I just figured that I was simply another person you helped along. I guess I was wrong. And I'm happy you applied for parole. I can't stop thinking about you getting out. I promise the day you get out will be the best of your life. And please, don't worry yourself with whether or not you're imposing, I offered, so all you have to do is say yes. You've already done so much for me, it's payment in kind. You're worth it.

I'm glad you're letting me choose. I don't know about you, but I've always liked surprises. Regarding spending the rest of the day, is there anything in particular that you would want to see? I know there are definitely a few things I want to show you, but I'll keep that a surprise as well.

As far as how I go, I've been alright. I would be better if you were around. I've been keeping myself busy. At least until you get out. I've been working mostly, spending the rest of my time cooking, which has been interesting. I wouldn't say I'm the best chef in the world, but I think I've certainly come far. Just a warning, when you get out I will for sure use you as a guinea pig to try out new recipes. I hope you're okay with that.

How've you been? I hope you haven't been too bored without me. Make sure to give BamBam, Tiny, and Heapass a kiss for me. Tell them I miss them. Not as much as I miss you. And keep up the good behavior. I don't think I could take it if you were in there for any longer than you have to be.

Yours,

Y/N

Yancy had been feeling, conflicted, to say the least. He wasn't conflicted about you, no, there was no doubt in his mind that he felt a connection with you. He wanted something more with you. But he wasn't sure if you wanted the same thing. He also wasn't sure if he was ready to leave his prison family. It was all he had known for the past few years. He was scared. What would he even do out there? Would the world even want him there? Would you want him there? His line of questioning was stopped as a letter was dropped on the table in front of him

"You gotta secret pen pal Yancy?" Boggs asked cheerily.

"Eh, somethin' like that. I'd consider them a friend, but I ain't too sure what they consider me." He said, heading back towards his cell.

It felt wrong keeping it from Boggs, but Yancy couldn't really tell him much about you, fearing that if he did, it would wind up with you back in here. And the guilt he would feel if that happened was unimaginable.

He sat on his bed, as he opened the letter, his previous fears of whether or not you wanted him around gone. You wanted him out. You wanted to spend time with him. You thought he was worth all the trouble he might give you. You wanted to see him as soon as possible. It truly pulled at his heartstrings. And he laughed at the image of you rushing around a kitchen, with several different meals being prepared, all of them being placed in front of him to try.

The signature though, was what got him the most. One word, a simple word, and yet it held so much meaning. Yours . His. It was then he knew how you felt about him. And suddenly he couldn't wait for parole.

He put the letter in the drawer where he kept the others, and made his way back to the cafeteria, giving Tiny, BamBam, and Heapass a kiss on the cheek, and quietly telling them it was from you. Shortly after he headed back to his cell to craft his response.

Dear Y/N,

Ise have helped plenty of people escape, none of them were as sweet as youse . It was really just another day in the life of Yancy. And speaking of parole I found out when my court date is. Ise'll make sure to call youse a little while beforehand, so that way youse could make the trek back here. Though that requires me knowing youse’s number, which I do not. Maybe youse could send it in the next letter you send to me. And as far as the best day of mine’s life, well, that wouldn't be too hard to do. Any day I get to spend with youse would be the best honestly. Ise also truly can't thank youse enough for letting me stay with you. I swear on mines life that I'll make it up to you, however you see fit.

The only thing Ise gotta see when I get out is some trees. An entire forest maybe, if you could manage that. I haven't seen a forest for the longest time. Ya know, I used to spend a lot of time out there with them trees. I climbed 'em as high as I could just to see the view. It was really somethin'. It doesn't hold a candle to youse though. Maybe we could do that, I could teach ya the best trees to climb and the best ones to carve youses name into. We could climb up 'em and pretend we is pirates in the crow's nest. And the wildlife, god, there's so much I would love to wanna show you, so much Ise think you'd appreciate it. That's really all Ise can ask for really. That and youse.

Ise has been ok so far. Itchin' to get outta here and see you. But I told the gang my plan and they all support me. It's sad in a way, they supportin' me to get out, but it's also comfortin' knowin' that they think Ise can do it. But it truly has been borin' wit out ya. There’ve been a few newbies, but they ain't nothin' compared to you and that guy you were with. How is he anyway? I know Jimmy hit him real good, but that's 'bout it. What was in that box the two of youses brought in? I been curious ever since Ise handed it off to ya.

Everybody here misses you too. Tiny 'specially. Says you awakened somethin' in her or somethin'. Youse awakened somethin' in me too. Heapass wanted to send somethin' your way, but Ise wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Said it was a secret for youse only. If youse'd be okay wit' that, I'll send it along next time. Or maybe I'll hold on to it to give it to youse in person. I can't wait to sees you.

Yours as well,

Yancy

It had truly been a day for you. Work had gotten so busy that you had to stay late, even after having come in early. You headed home afterward, your body heavy with exhaustion. You nearly forgot about the fact that Yancy’s letter was supposed to come in today. Lucky enough though, you had seen one of your neighbors getting their mail, which reminded you to get yours. At that moment, the exhaustion seemed to lift as you retrieved your mail. You uttered a small greeting to your neighbor in passing and headed back home.

You nearly collapsed when you entered the door, but you knew you couldn’t. You had to read Yancy’s letter and then send yours out tomorrow. You couldn’t break the routine, despite how your body yelled at you to rest. You managed to get through the first paragraph before you dozed off, the letter still in hand.

When you woke up, you realized what had happened, and scrambled to find the letter, which was still in your hand. Relieved you hadn’t lost it, you folded it back up as you made yourself something to drink before you began reading it. You owed Yancy your full attention.

After a while, you were finally more aware of your surroundings, and sat down to begin reading Yancy’s letter. From beginning to end, you felt fondness in your heart. You didn't want to get your hopes up when he ended it with 'yours as well' but it seemed unlikely. And when he mentioned the key, you remembered what you wanted to do with it, and write it down so that you wouldn't forget again.

And then he mentioned Mark. You weren't quite sure how to feel. Of course, you felt bad that you had left him behind, but because of that you got to meet Yancy, and then when you broke out, the two of you fell out of contact. It was conflicting, to say the least. You chose to pay it no mind though, and instead direct your attention to responding to Yancy.

Hey love , Yancy,

If that's your day to day life, then I'm sure you're keeping busy without me. As much as it hurts to think that. Hopefully, you'll keep busy until your court date! Speaking of which, I've attached my number on a separate sheet of paper so you won't have to go digging through letters. At least, if you haven't gotten rid of them.

Knowing you haven't had a perfect day breaks my heart. I'll be pulling out all the stops to make sure that this can't be topped, even by me if I were to try again. Every day I get a letter from you is perfect. And if you change your mind about wanting to do anything, then we can just hang out at my place. Just the thought of being around you makes me giddy. We could play some board games, watch some movies, I could make dinner or we could order takeout or we could try and cook together. I'm not sure how good you are at cooking, but for some reason, I feel as though you would be a quick learner.

And I'll make sure to factor trees in. I actually live near a forest, it's about a ten-minute drive from my place. Or we could walk if you wanted. I hope you do, I want to spend as much time as possible with you. It's not that far, and it should be pretty mild, so walking wouldn't be absolutely terrible. As for the forest, I can only hope you'll like it. I'm not sure if the trees will be very climbable, but we can still try. There are likely to be some solid ones, some might even be able to hold both of our weight. And you'll have to show me which trees are good for carving. As cheesy as it is, carving out initials would make me so happy. We'd have to mark such a momentous day, wouldn't we? I can think of no better way.

I'm glad you're feeling up to coming out! And I'm so glad that everyone supports you. I hope you know that I support you too right? In any decision you choose to make regarding this, I'll follow your lead and be there when you need me. I only ask that you love me in return think about the future you want. Hopefully, it involves me.

Mark has been...I'm not sure how to put it. I saw him get beat up by Jimmy too, and after that it was a bit of a whirlwind and I lost touch. I don't know if he ever recovered from that, if he has, he hasn't reached out to me. If I'm being honest, he probably resents me for leaving him behind. As he should. I should've gone back for him. As thankful as I am for the freedom you gave me, I could only wish I could share it with him. We were friends for a long time, and not knowing what's going on is unsettling, but I've managed. It's weird really, things happen and yet life goes on. One door closes, another one opens. I leave Mark behind, I meet you. You don't come with me, you get parole. Happenstances and all that. But the box, well, that's something I'm going to keep a surprise for now.

It's nice to hear that people there still miss me. Tell Tiny I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly, and that maybe in another life we could've been more. But my heart is set on you not this time. I...also am not sure what to make of Heapass wanting to send me something, but I think the thrill would be worth it. I can let you know what he sends in the next letter.

I can't believe it's been three months. I can't believe you leave in three months. I can't believe I love you.

Eagerly Awaiting,

Y/N

Yancy's mind had been entirely focused on you as of late. Given, even before now he thought of you pretty often, but recently, all he could think about was you. He would be dancing and he would think of your reaction to it. He would be writing a song and asking himself if you would like it or not. In his free time, he was just going over and over the letters you had sent him. He thought that it was most likely due to the fact that someone seemed to care so deeply for him, and he cared so deeply for you in return. It had only been a few months, but that didn't stop his heart from yearning for you. He missed your presence if he was being honest. Just having you there, having you knock him out if it meant getting to feel your touch, god when did he get so soft? If it was for you though, it was worth it.

The rest of the gang had noticed him becoming more and more withdrawn and did their best to get him out of his head.

"Heapass knows that you are anxious to get out, and are constantly thinking about Y/N, but Heapass also knows that you must keep busy to pass the time." Heapass said one day, handing Yancy a small package.

"Thanks, Heapass, I'll do my best to get out some more." He responded, questioning the package but also thinking of what he could do.

He met up with Tiny and BamBam later that day to just hang around. They ended up playing cards for a long while. And it truly did help. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had had a conversation with the two of them. They talked about anything that came to mind, what the next dance number would be, when they would rehearse, the usual conversations.

After the game had come to a final end, Yancy followed them into the cafeteria. As soon as he sat down everyone began going into different conversations. It was nice. It was comforting. He heard snippets of them, not really listening, instead just enjoying their company. The peace was soon broken, as his shoulder was tapped by Boggs.

"Another letter from your little penpal, Yancy." He said, jokingly.

"Thanks, Boggs," Yancy replied, taking the letter. Ah, now the package Heapass had given him made sense.

"Looks like Yancy's checkin' out for the day guys, let's all say our goodbyes," Jimmy said.

Everyone began saying their goodbyes simultaneously, making Yancy laugh.

"I'll be back, ain't like Ise is leaving for good yet," he said, realizing towards the end what he had said. Everyone else had gone silent as well, and Yancy had taken that as his cue to leave and headed back to his cell.

He was a little hurt at the fact that you thought he had thrown away all your letters. But he had never written about keeping them, so it was understandable. He truly couldn't wait to see you. To spend time with you. To be with you. It made him feel giddy just thinking of it.

And the trees. You would make sure he saw them. He couldn't express how that made him feel. All he knew that it was good.

Hey Doll,

Day to day life has been kicked down a notch. Recently, youse’s the only thing I can think about Ise been gettin' a little anxious over gettin' out. Court date's coming up, an' it feels like everything’s a bit heavier here. Everybody knows Ise is gonna be leavin' for good, hopefully, and I know they is sad, but they refuse to admit for my sake. Maybe though, I could do the same thing we do. I could write em all letters to keep in contact. Maybe even visit them. Though I can only visit them one on one, so the letter's probably a better idea. 'Course they support me, it's what a family does, but Ise thinks they is havin' a hard time too. But I think I am ready to come out, to have a future outside of prison. Maybe a future with youse. Knowing that I have youses and the gangs support is real helpful.

An' doll, don't worry 'bout me not having an 'absolutely perfect day'. But Ise is glad youse is puttin' in so much effort to give me one. I can't tell you how grateful Ise is. Truly. Ise don't think I'd be in the situation I'm in if it weren't for youse. Youse makes me wanna be better. I think I'm in love wit' youse. And for what we do, I really don't have any preference, as long as we get to do it together. Actually, Ise would prefer it if it was just us. I get kinda jittery around strangers. S'why I wanted to go to the cafe. But if you wanna cook somethin' for little ol’ me, then cook to youses heart's content. My heart is content wit' just youse.

The trees. I can't thank yous enough. Just the promise of seein' trees is something to hold me over. I ain't too sure if we should be climbin' em either. But carvin' our names in em? I'm all about that. It's almost like carvin' our names into the world. It's funny, ya never think 'bout those things afterward, but they's still there. It'll probably be there long after we’re gone. A little humbling, honestly. Memento Mori and all that.

Sorry about Mark. Never really got to know him like I got to know youse. But the way youse talk 'bout him makes him seem like a pretty good guy. Hopefully, he's alright and does reach out to you, lets bygones be bygones. Not really your fault he went and picked a fight with Jimmy though. So I wouldn't feel too bad about it.

That box though, that's somethin' I gotta know about now. They mystery an' allure? Incredibly enticin'. But if youse keeps it a secret, then I guess Ise'll have to wait. Promise not to forget it so I can finally know what it was.

I actually spent some time with Tiny today. An' BamBam. We played cards, nothin' to excitin'. But it helped pass the time. Speakin' of talking to people, Heapass had said somethin' to me today before giving me something. I assume it's the gift he wanted to give to youse. I hope youse gets it. Tell me what's inside in your next letter.

Missin' you,

Yancy

You had just gotten home from the blacksmith’s forge. You had put in your request, and were eagerly awaiting for when they called you to pick up the item. You weren’t sure how long exactly it would take, but given they were a pretty popular business, you hoped it would be done in time.

You had to make sure everything else was in place as well. Already having been through a number of ideas on what to make. You wanted something big, but you weren’t sure if that was what Yancy would want on his first day out. Maybe you could work your way up to that. Baby steps. You decided on something simple, yet elegant. Though you would need Yancy’s input on what he would prefer. Though you might have to give him options, as he seemed content to let you make the decisions. It seemed unfair that he didn’t have any say in his perfect day. Well, minus the trees. That part, you had figured out quite easily and made sure that it would be undisturbed. It wasn’t exactly like you could rent out the forest, but you certainly made sure that you found a spot where you wouldn’t be interrupted. Hopefully, he wouldn’t think you were taking him there to kill him.

As your mind drifted in between all the planning you had been doing, and all the planning you still had yet to do, you mind finally settled on Yancy. You had told him how lucky you were to have met him, but you weren’t sure how much he believed that himself. You remembered back to your time at the fence, how he said he didn’t belong out there, out here. He doubted himself so much, it hurt for you to think about. You wished he could see himself the way you saw him. The way all of his gang saw him. That was something else you were going to work on, that self-doubt of his. If you couldn’t help him through it, you knew a few people who could. You decided to make a few calls as well, before eventually deciding to take a break.

But you didn’t really rest, no, you just diverted your attention. Instead of worrying about Yancy without him around, you were going to deal with what he had said in his letter.

He was anxious, of course. Who wouldn’t be? But the fact that he wanted to stay in touch with everyone was good news. You knew that if he weren’t able to do that, it would probably ruin him. And then he said how grateful he was for you. How he wanted to change. That let you know that this was real. That this was actually happening. That you could have a future with Yancy. A good one. Like you had said, because Mark left, you were able to meet Yancy, and because you lost touch with Mark then you could forge a new relationship with Yancy. It eased the hurt of losing Mark.

The end confused you though. As he said, there was a package attached to the letter. You hadn’t questioned it, expecting Yancy to explain it in the letter, but he didn’t know either, which, left you a bit weary. What could Heapass have sent that he didn’t want Yancy to look at? It was a very small box, with a little weight to it. There were no notes on the outside to clue you into what was inside or anything. Your curiosity eventually got the better of you and you opened it. Inside were two small rings. Looking at them at first, they looked like two normal silver rings, but as you looked them over in the light, you saw they had something written on the inside. You saw your name on one, with a date, and Yancy's on the other, with the same date. It took you a while to put it together but then it hit you. It was the day of the heist. The day you met Yancy. You nearly started crying at how thoughtful this was of Heapass. You weren’t exactly sure how he had gotten the materials to make these, but you were grateful all the same. You would make sure to thank him profusely. Maybe even write him a letter of his own. You soon realized you had never really talked to Heapass while in prison, and yet he had gone out of his way to give you these. You would most definitely write him a letter. But first, you had to write your letter to Yancy.

Heya dear, babe, light of my life, Yancy,

I’m glad to hear that things have been calm(?). And I’m glad you’re not getting into a fight with every new prisoner. I am sorry that you’re anxious though, as much as it makes sense. I hope it helps knowing that we’re all in your corner. And I will be, literally. I’ve found where the courthouse is, so I just need to know when it is from you, so I can come early and get a seat near you. I wish I could hold your hand through the entire process. I know you’ll get through it. You’re a tough cookie, and as stubborn as you may be, it’s admirable, some might even call it determination. I do.

I think keeping in touch with everyone is a fantastic idea. They’ve been with you for so long and gotten you through so much, it’s understandable that you couldn’t just end it on the spot. Maybe we could write them letters together? I’ve actually planned to write Heapass a letter, thanking him for the package. Once you’re out, I’ll tell you what it is. I'll tell you what was in the box that we came in with too. I also want to talk to Tiny, maybe help her figure out what she’s going through. I feel bad that I left her so quickly.

Yancy, I don’t know how many times I have to say it for it to get through your thick skull, but taking care of you is worth it to me. Maybe I should come back to knock some sense into that pretty head of yours. It really is no trouble at all. And the fact that you want to change? Want to be better? Anything I can do to help you is worth doing. Any time I get to spend with you is time well spent. And getting to spend time with just you, without people around us to worry about is wonderful to me. I get you all to myself . But I’m thinking that for your first day out, we keep it simple. Speaking of, what’s your favorite sandwich, for no reason at all. Just something I want to know. No nefarious purposes whatsoever. I promise.

I think carving our name on to the world is something we could do. Something we could do together. That’s one of my biggest fears actually, being forgotten. You’re right in that there’s so much that’ll be here after we’re gone, and not leaving anything behind kind of scares me. So carving our names into a tree that’ll live on long after us is quite appealing.

I think I’m going to stop actively worrying about Mark. It’s been this long and he hasn’t reached out. I haven’t either, but that’s beside the point. I don’t think I want to reach out. If he’s out there, he's made his choice. And now, I’ve made mine.

It’s good to know that you’re not spending your days sulking in your cell. I don’t want you getting too caught up in your own head. Even if all you do is just get out and have one conversation with one person, I’m proud of you. I know how it can be, wanting to isolate and leave everything behind. Being with other people helps though. Distracting helps. It doesn’t even need to be productive, you just have to get your mind off of what’s hurting you and onto something else. One of my favorite methods is cooking, as you may have noticed. There’s so much attention that’s needed, the detail to measurements, being aware of time, knowing what you need and when. If you find something you already like doing to distract you, then it doesn’t feel like you’re being distracted. Why don’t you try to write some new songs? Choreograph some new dances? But don’t do them for anyone else. Do them for you. Self-care, you know? It’s important. You’re important. You have to make it to your court date so I can see you again. I need to see you again.

Fondly,

Y/N

Yancy had finally been interacting more with everyone. He figured, he only had so much time left, best to make the most of it. Every time the had a meal together, he would listen as much as possible and try to give an honest response. He didn’t want them thinking things that weren’t true after he was gone. He wanted to leave a lasting impression on them. He didn’t want to be forgotten.

He did his best to give his undivided attention to everyone he spent time with one on one. It was what they deserved, and he had felt bad for lacking in that recently. Every game he played, every person he spotted, every conversation he had, he treated with the utmost importance. He wouldn’t be able to do that after, so best to do it now.

He had actually been spending quite a bit more time with BamBam and Tiny, always having a daily card game. Go Fish, Old Maid, Crazy Eights, War, Slapjack, Poker, he didn’t really care. He got to spend time with them, and that was enough. He was talking to Heapass more than usual as well. He always had wonderful insight, which, although cryptic, was immensely comforting. He radiated this aura of power, but in the way a cat does when they’re on top of the fridge. Uncaring, and yet interested. Heapass didn’t speak often, but he was a good listener, offering small grunts and noises of understanding. Yancy had tried to ask him what was in the box he sent you, but all he was able to get out of Heapass was a knowing smile.

“Time ticks by, never waiting, never stopping, but when in good company, time feels never-ending,” Heapass said one day, completely out of the blue. It had startled Yancy quite a bit. He wasn’t sure what to make of it until he remembered the letter he sent you. He remembered how he wanted a future with you, and how when he was breaking you out of prison, it felt like it lasted forever, or at least, over and over again. He remembered spending time here, with his gang, his family, and how it truly did feel neverending. Whether that was a good or bad thing, well gray areas exist for a reason.

And then, sooner than he had realized, he had received your letter. He wasn’t sure if that was due to him spacing out, or to Heapass, who always seemed to have a distortion about him.

Putting the thought aside, he read your letter, comforted by your words about being in his corner, calling him admirable, and the like. He was elated at your understanding of him wanting to write back to the gang, and a little touched that you wanted to write to them too. He thought about how the two of you could write one giant letter, pages and pages long, talking about your life together, talking about your days, what recipe you might’ve cooked, what forests the two of you visited, any adventure you might go on.

He paused for a minute, realizing what he was thinking. He realized that he truly wanted a life with you, whatever that may entail. Domestic or otherwise, he wanted to be with you. He wanted to spend every minute he could with you. He could feel the want throughout his body, and he came to a final realization. He was truly, deeply, and entirely in love with you. And that was okay! It shocked him how alright he was with that fact. The only thing that worried him was if you felt the same.

As he continued to read the letter, however, he found his answer. The fact that you were coming into court on his court date. The fact that you giving him a place to stay after he got out. The fact that you were taking care of him. The fact that you cared enough to want to give him the best day ever. The fact that you said ‘ Any time I get to with you is time well spent ’. It rocked him to his core. You never said it outright, but he knew you loved him. He hoped you knew that he felt the same. Unspoken as it was, it was there. You wanted him to stop sulking, you wanted him to find something that made him happy. You wanted him to be happy! His hand couldn’t move fast enough to write his reply.

To Y/N keeper of my heart ,

Things have taken a turn for the better here. I ain’t sulkin’ in my cell as much, Ise actually gotta daily card game with Tiny an’ BamBam. We plays whatever we feel like, whatever feels right at the time. And so far, it’s been workin’ out pretty good. Recently, I been spendin’ a lot more time with’ the gang. We all know my time is comin’, so we is makin’ these last few moments count. Ise been payin’ more attention to the little moments, the jokes we share, the conversations we have, things like that. I can’t wait to share those moments with you . But youse was right. Keepin’ myself busy has been a huge help. Like I said, Ise been plain’ cards, and just gettin’ out to talk to people. I haven’t really been thinkin’ ‘bout songs and stuff. Though now that youse brings it up, I might spend my last month here puttin’ together a spectacle. Somethin’ real special. Something that you might like. I knows youse said not to do it for others, but it’s a nice motivator. I’ll see if we can get it recorded to show youse. Now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I got all these ideas. Youse is such an inspiration.

I had this thought. That maybe, when Ise gets out, we could write letters together maybe? Maybe to save paper or save on stamps or somethin’. I just thought, y’know, it might be nice for everybody to receive a letter from the both of us. If youse don’t wanna do that then that’s totally fine, completely understandable. We can write separate letters, maybe that’ll keep it a bit more intimate. The way our letters have been. But I just thought it’d be less work with the both of us writin’ letters to everybody, so’s that they don’t get two letters and we know the same stuff and so we ain’t repeatin’ ourselves and such. But it’s completely up to youse.

Youses probably been tired of hearin’ that though, haven’t you? Ise think I’ve said it in ‘bout every letter Ise sent to youse. But here, lemme make this decision for you. My favorite sandwich is a turkey and smoked gouda sandwich, with a little lettuce and tomato, an’ some mayo an’ hot sauce. That specific enough for ya? Hope it is. An’ I hope youse never uses this to make deals wit’ me, cuz Ise is a sucker for that sandwich an’ would probably do just about anything for it. And for you . But you promised no nefarious purposes so, Ise is gonna hold you to it.

Ise can’t help but notice you didn’t mention what was in that little box of youse, nor what was in the package Heapass sentcha. Youse is keepin’ me in the dark, an’ Ise ain’t too fond of it. But youse can keep your secrets...for now.

Youse wanna know what Ise think? Ise think you’re too good to be forgotten . Ise think there is certain ways to keep yourself from bein’ forgotten. Two things, really. Actions an’ art. Youse can be remembered by anyone if you do anything to or for them. Youse’s certainly done so much for me . And through art, people can remember youses name, youses story, youses feelings. It’s what Ise loves so much ‘bout musical theater. Ise can express me in ways Ise couldn’t do otherwise. An’ people understand. People remember. My biggest fear has always been bein’ alone. I thinks that’s why Ise been so anxious ‘bout leaving is because here, Ise ain’t alone. But out there? I ain’t got nobody. Nobody but youse. Youse mean so much to me, Ise can’t put it into words.

One months time an’ Ise’ll get to see ya. Time sure flies, don’t it?

Yancy

You knew Yancy's court date wasn't for another month, but you thought that getting a more professional looking outfit as soon as possible was best. Nothing too flashy, you were going for dapper really, put together in a sense. You didn't want to draw attention away from Yancy. It was his day. But given the situation, he might also want some of the pressure off of him, if you had gathered anything from his letters. You decided on a nice little number that didn't scream for attention, but wasn't exactly subtle either. You hoped it would help.

It was so hard to believe. You were going to see Yancy again. You were going to be with him. You were going to be able to hold him. And you would never let go. Of course, he might stray, as is the curious nature of people, but you would be there beside him to set him upright when he fell over, or to fall over with him so he wasn't as alone. He wanted to change, and you were going to be there every step of the way.

There really wasn’t much left to do, due to your impeccable planning. You had gone to the forge and picked up what you had dropped off, and while you were there, you had bought some chains for necklaces. You began putting all the pieces together, and finally putting them back into the box that Heapass had sent you. You hoped Yancy would like it.

You had some free time for what felt like the first time in weeks. You weren't exactly sure what to do with it. Your mind had been drifting towards Yancy's court date. It felt as though it was just yesterday that he had broken you out of prison. And now, time couldn't move fast enough.

You had decided to go for a walk, to clear your head and ease your worries. The anticipation of Yancy's court date was building, and despite everything said in your and his letters, you couldn't help but wonder how he truly felt about you. Did he think you were doing this out of pity? You hoped not. You hoped he knew how you felt about him. If he didn't you would make sure he knew when he was out. He had to know that you cared. He had to know that he was loved. He had to know that you loved him.

Eventually, you decided to head back. If you were lucky, you might've been out long enough for the mail to come. And lo and behold, there was his letter. You were so happy for him. He was doing better, and that brought you so much joy. And when he called you an inspiration? You couldn't help but smile. And you had to say, him finally giving you a concrete answer to what he wanted, well, it was nice. He had seemed so unsure of himself in his letters, and you weren't quite sure what that was about.

And then, he told you his greatest fear. And though you had told him yours, you weren't quite sure he would share his. But he did. He trusted you enough to tell you. And he said you were all he had on the outside. That broke your heart, to be so lonely. You couldn't imagine it. You would make sure he would be able to build a life outside of prison. You would make sure he would never be alone. With that in mind, you penned what you would hope to be your last letter to Yancy.

Dear Yancy,

Seeing as this is probably the last letter you’ll get from me before your court date, I just want you to know how excited I am to see you. How proud of you I am. How much I support you. I actually got a new outfit today just for it.

I’m so glad you’ve been keeping busy, what did I tell you? Works like a charm. And routines. I can’t thank them enough. I’m glad you’ve found one of your own. It helps make things feel more in control I think. Like I’m doing x thing at y time as I have planned. I haven’t been able to spend as much time with other people as I would like, but I know that if I could spend more time with them I would be the exact same. I can't wait to spend time with you. When you get out, I'll make sure to introduce you to all my friends, make sure you can build a family on the outside. We could be our own family. You'll never be alone. Not if I can help it.

As for me, well, things have been ok. Every day is torture without you. I've been keeping busy myself making sure everything's ready. I've set up a room for you here, and I've tried to get some stuff for you, but you've been so indecisive that I'm not quite sure what to get you! Maybe we could go shopping once you're out, and then you can pick out what you like and I won't have to guess. We can go to IKEA! We'll make a day out of it. Look at stuff for your room, maybe get some knick-knacks, grab lunch. I'm not sure how they do it, but those Swedes always make a meal feel like home. Oh!! And we could get a desk! With paper and drawers and a place to put pens and other stationery so we can write letters!! To write letters of course. Speaking of, I would love to write letters with you. I think you're right with the whole saving paper thing and us both knowing the same information so we don't repeat ourselves. But I think we should write letters to them individually and not as one group because they'll all probably have different things going on, y'know?

Look, I promise, once you're out? You'll know exactly what was in the box and what Heapass sent me. I promise.

You're right though, about how to not be forgotten. But the thing is, I just feel like nothing I do will ever be that exceptional. I was kind of hoping that the heist would be a bigger thing. I'm not particularly good at any art form really, and I'm not bold enough to do something worth remembering. I'm so lucky that you remembered me enough to write these letters. And I know what you may say, little actions! They're just as important! And you're right again. Maybe once you're out I'll be implored to do more little things to help people. I need all the help I can get, and knowing I have your help? Is one hell of a motivator. Who knows, maybe with your help, I'll become a world-renowned chef. Can't hurt to dream, right?

I'll see you soon,

Y/N

Yancy had been extremely busy the past month. He only had a month to write, choreograph, practice, and perform his best number yet. He used the word spectacle when describing it to you, and a spectacle it would be. While he was working on writing and choreographing, he sent Sparkles McGee to put together effects, Jimmy to get props, and Heapass to spread the word. After about a week everyone knew what he was up to, and asked if they could pitch in. The help was eagerly appreciated, and Yancy delegated work to different groups. It was a weight off of his shoulders knowing he didn't have to do it all alone. And when everything seemed just about ready to go, Yancy went to go talk to the warden.

"Hey, da- uh Warden," Yancy said, stumbling to correct himself.

"Ah Yancy! It's good to see you son. Do you know how nice it is hearing what good behavior you've been on? It's fantastic!" He replied, gesturing to the seat opposite him for Yancy to sit down.

"And, a little birdie told me you were putting together something special in your last few days here. Did I hear that right?" The warden asked.

"You did hear that right sir. An' regardin' that, Ise was wonderin' if there was a way youse could record it? For posterity an' all that." Yancy said.

"Well, I don't see why not! So long as you've got everyone's permission to be on camera then you'll be golden! And if I'm right, I believe everyone signed a form upon entry giving us that exact thing. So go do it son. I'm proud of you." The warden said, shooing Yancy out of his office.

"Thanks, Warden! Really 'preciate it!" Yancy yelled as he left.

Everything was set. The dance was good, phenomenal if Yancy said so himself. The music was fantastic, full of emotion. And the effects, Yancy would have to write a separate letter to Sparkles after he got out thanking him for all he did. The guards brought in the camera and before Yancy knew it, it was showtime.

It was late after recording, but it went off without a hitch. They nailed every note, hit every move, the effects were all on cue. It was as if the universe had granted him the perfect working day, and he couldn't have been more thankful for it. It was something he was proud of, something he hoped that you would be proud of.

He had made his way back to his cell, tired from all the work and yet still riding the high of having gotten it all done. That high was further increased by the sight of a letter on his bed, addressed to him in your handwriting. He opened it as soon as he sat down and was filled with a new vigor. And there it was. You were proud of him. It felt like he hadn't even done anything and yet, you were proud of him. He was touched at the fact that you wanted to build a life, a family for him outside. That you set up a room for him, that you wanted to help him adjust, that you wanted to take him to IKEA. And the excitement you felt about doing so was palpable, even if it was through a letter. Seeing how excited you got just in a letter excited him to see how you were in person. The thought of seeing you in person excited him. There was so much to be excited about, he could barely write it all down fast enough.

To Y/N,

It's such an amazing thought, thinkin' that this'll be the last letter that Ise'll send youse from in here. Ise can't tell youse how excited Ise am. We actually just finished recordin' that new number Ise was tellin' you about. Came out great, a true work of art. Ise can't wait to show youse. An' as for your art, Ise think cookin's the way to go. From what youse’s told me, all the time youse spendin' on it, all the effort youse is puttin' in, it's all gonna pay off. I'm sure of it.

Ise is lookin' forward to seein' you, to gettin' out if you haven't noticed already. An' Ise really can't thank youse enough for doing all this for me. Meetin' you has changed my life. Ise never thought someone like me would go for parole, and yet, here I am. An' I'm sure once I'm out, youse's gonna change my life there too. Without a doubt.

If we do go shoppin', I'm gonna tell you now doll, I don't like much. I ain't ever had a lot so Ise ain't used to having a lotta stuff. Maybe that'll change, Ise thinks a lot'll change once I'm out, once I'm with you . But the desk, that sounds like a great idea. With all the pens an' paper, Ise can just imagine youse going to town while writin' there, if youses letters to me is any indication. And I'm glad you like the idea of us writin' letters together. Ise wasn't so sure how you would take that. I guess Ise got all caught up in my own head again.

I think anything youse does is exceptional. I mean, youse decided to write to me, a guy you knew for a few days and who youse also knew did some bad things. But youse kept at it. Little actions right? Youse just wrote a little letter an' sent it my way. Now look at me, I'm goin' for parole an' Ise genuinely want a better life. An' youse is so important to me. That one little action had all these ripples. Just keep that up and youse'll be fine. But if you need my help, Ise'll be happy to offer it.

I think Ise is gonna keep this one a bit short, just cuz there's so much I wanna tell you when Ise gets out. I'll see ya soon doll.

Love,

Yancy

As Yancy's parole date drew closer and closer, your fridge grew fuller and fuller, and eventually, you were leaving your home more and more to give out food. To say you were stress cooking wouldn't be wrong, but it wouldn't be entirely right either. More like, cooking in anticipation. To keep you busy, to keep your mind busy, from the date that was ever-growing closer. You weren’t sure what about it exactly unnerved you. Maybe it was the fact that this would be the first time you would’ve seen Yancy in person in months. Maybe it was the fact that he was staying with you. Maybe it was the fact that you were so deeply and profoundly in love with him you were scared that as soon as he saw you and talked to you in person he would want nothing to do with you and your heart would be shattered.

Ah. That was it.

Getting caught up in your own head wasn’t something that happened too terribly often, but it was definitely something that once it did happen, it began to drag you down immeasurable depths. But you had to put that aside. Of course, writing to someone did have its perks, allowing you to think about what you want to say before you say it, being able to take back something you didn’t mean to say, things like that, but speaking face to face was good too. You would be able to see each other’s reactions in the moment, you would get to see how he laughed, how he looked deep in thought, how he looked enjoying a nice hot drink. And before you could stop yourself you had done a complete 180 and were spiraling in the other direction. As much as you weren’t opposed to this line of thought, you knew it had to stop. There were other things you had to do.

You had prepared a lot of the physical things for when he got out, but there were things you had to mentally prepare for. You had to prepare yourself for the worst, as much as it hurt you. But on the other hand, you also had to prepare yourself for the best. For the fact that maybe he liked you too, for the fact that maybe, he might want to more than just pen pals turned roommates. It was rocky, sure, going from such intense lows to the highest of highs, but eventually, you wore yourself out and retired to your kitchen to see what you had leftover from your previous cooking endeavors.

You were just about to sit down to eat when you remembered what day today was. Given that you had been obsessing over the future, you had completely forgotten today. It was the day Yancy’s letter was supposed to come in. You rushed down the stairs to the mailbox to see the letter there, as if it were waiting for you. As soon as you had brought it back to your home, you started to calm down. Things were finally falling into place, and all you needed to do right now, was eat and read.

It hurt, of course, that this would be the last letter. You had found small pleasure in writing the letter by hand, sending it off, and waiting to receive a reply. But the thought of having to not wait two weeks for a reply from Yancy, plus the fact that you would be writing letters to everyone in the prison completely outweighed it. And you couldn’t wait to see the number he had done. He called it a spectacular, and you had been on the edge of your seat ever since. He supported your cooking which was sweet, and you had hoped that he would support you in cleaning out the fridge as well. When he mentioned how much you had changed his life, you started crying, you could only think of how much he had changed your life, the fact that he felt the same was so incredibly validating. And then you got to the end. Love, Yancy . You had been too scared to end your letters like that, afraid he wouldn’t feel the same. But then he took that leap himself. Of course, in the last letter he sent you, just to be sure that if you didn’t feel the same way, you would’ve still kept on writing letters to him, and you started crying again.

It was finally time. Yancy was headed to the courthouse for his hearing. He was all dressed up in a nice suit that the prison just happened to have. It was nice, if not a little restricting. He wasn’t used to wearing suits, more used to his loose pants and shirt, but he knew this was required. And he was a little pleased that you would get to see him all dressed up.

He wondered if you were already there. If they had even let you in. He hoped you were there, the sight of a familiar face would be so comforting. Boggs was there though, and his presence was comforting too. But yours would have a completely different effect. He had shared such an intimate connection with you if he saw you, it would just reaffirm what he already knew. While musing, he was brought into the courtroom, sat at a table, and the process began. He looked around to see if you were there, not spotting you in the front few rows. But then, farther back, he saw a flash of color and-

There you were.

He recognized you immediately, your face burned into his memory ever since he had helped you escape and, you were as alluring as when the two of you had first met. He couldn’t take his eyes off you and then suddenly, you looked up, a him, and your face grew into a smile he had only dreamed about. You gave a small wave and then pointed back towards the front, as if you were silently scolding him for not paying attention. He chuckled to himself as he turned back to the judge.

The trial was a blur to Yancy, the only thing he remembered was seeing you and then the gavel pounding and the words officially setting him free. It took all his will power to not hop over the fence and hug you, but he managed. Soon, he reminded himself, soon. He was lead out of the courtroom into a much smaller room, to see you and Boggs talking. He wasn’t sure what about, as as soon as you saw him you ran up to him. You enveloped him in what seemed like the biggest hug a person your size could do, and immediately, he hugged you back. It felt right, for the two of you to be in each other’s arms. After all the time he and you had spent dreaming of this moment, it had finally come to pass. And just like you had dreamed, time seemed to stop and the only things that existed were you and Yancy. He was here. He was out. He was in your arms. And you couldn’t be happier. Neither could he. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like ages before Boggs spoke up.

“Hate to break up such a happy reunion, but I need to finish talking to Y/N about the rules and regulations. So uh, if you don’t mind splitting from each other so I can make sure Y/N gets all this.” Boggs said as the two of you released each other from your holds. Though you didn’t quite detach completely. You instead took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze before giving Boggs your full attention.

Once Boggs had finished filling you in on all the required information that comes along with doing parole, he said the two of you were free to leave.

You couldn’t drag Yancy out fast enough, you were practically going to rip his arm off at this pace, but you didn’t care. There was so much that you had planned. Once you had reached and unlocked your car, you hopped in, motioning Yancy to do the same.

“Okay doll, before you kidnap me to kill me out in the woods, mind tellin’ me what youse got planned?” He asked, before climbing into your car.

“Sorry, I just got so excited because I get to spend time with you that I forgot my manners. So, first, I wanted to go back to my place, I figured you wouldn’t want to stay in that suit all day, so I got you some clothes that you could change into. After that, I was hoping we could go to that coffee shop I mentioned and grab lunch. There shouldn’t be too many people there, given the day and the time, and I was hoping we could just talk. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, to your face, for so long. And now that I have the chance I’m not letting go. And for tonight! I have something very special planned that I would prefer to keep secret, but understand if that’s unnerving to you.” You explained, beginning the drive back to your place.

“That sounds pretty good. But let’s take it one thing at a time yeah?” He said, grinning. He was silent for the rest of the ride, just taking in his surroundings, the outside world, you. It was as if he didn’t realize how much he was missing in prison. But now out in the outside world, there was so much he wanted to see. So much he wanted to do. So much he wanted to do with you. But you had a plan for today. So he would stick with it.

You enjoyed the silence with Yancy, you hadn’t really had time to just sit with him in prison, and now, you were just enjoying his presence, getting a feeling for having him around. It was pleasant, definitely something you could get used too. You could imagine the two of you, just sitting together at your place, maybe you were reading and he was writing a letter, or maybe you were cooking and he was writing a song, mumbling every time he was thinking which lyric would be better. You had had a lot of these domestic thoughts centered around the two of you, but now that he was here, those things could actually happen, if he wanted to do those things of course.

You had gotten to your home sooner than you would’ve liked. As much as you wanted to talk to Yancy and get to know him, there was something so serene getting to just sit with him. And the suit. You wouldn’t have minded getting to look at him in that for a little longer. But you arrived nonetheless, and you brought Yancy in.

“Welcome to my humble abode. It’s not much, but it’s home.” You said gesturing to the room.

“My room is down the hall to the left, and your room is right across from it. I had turned it into a study when I first got here, but it’s been converted back into a room for your use. The kitchen is back there, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall. That’s about it, any questions?” You asked, ending the miniature tour.

“Not really, but I’ll let youse know if any comes up.” He said, taking in your place. As you said, it wasn’t much, but it sure felt like home. It looked lived in, comfy, homey. He hoped he wouldn’t ruin it.

“Alright, I’ve left some clothes in your room, if you want to change. I will most definitely change. As much as I like this outfit, I’d prefer to have a full range of mobility.” And with that, you walked down the hall to your room, leaving Yancy to do the same.

He observed the hall that led towards his and your rooms, finding it somewhat empty, save for a few pieces of art here and there. They had dates on them, but as to what they meant he had no idea. There were no pictures of you and your family, or of you and your friends either, and he could only wonder what that meant. Slowly, he drew farther and farther down the hall until he finally came upon his room. Again, there wasn’t much: a bed, some sheets and a pillow, a bedside table and a lamp, and some drawers. He began looking through the drawers and cabinets to find some filled with clothes, and others completely empty, and empty notebooks and pens here and there. A lot of stuff to ask you about later. At that thought, he decided he had better change, or else he wouldn’t get to ask all those questions, instead having spent all his time in his room.

After he had changed, he left his room to find you lounging on the couch, on your phone. You hadn’t heard him come in, and he took a moment to admire you again. You were so effortlessly attractive, so easily enticing, that he couldn’t help but get caught up in looking at you. He felt like he had known you and yet, he felt like he was meeting you for the first time again, all the mystery still intact.

It was at that moment you chose to look up and smile at Yancy, and his heart softened.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, still smiling. You had to say, as good as Yancy looked in a suit, he looked so much better in casual clothing, probably because that was closer to what he was used to wearing.

"As I'll ever be." He said, heading towards the door and opening it for you, ever the perfect gentlemen. You thanked him and headed towards your car. As you said, the coffee shop was quite close, and you were there in no time. You exited the car, waiting for Yancy to catch up, and then you took his hand in yours and led him inside.

The warmth rushed over Yancy as he stepped inside. The smell of coffee and tea and pastries assaulted his senses and he took a step back.

"Yancy, are you ok?" You asked.

"Yeah doll, it's all uh, jus' a little much 's'all." He replied, taking in the environment. His eyes were frantically scanning everywhere, trying to place everything. The sound the coffee machines were making, the smell of the coffee, the sight of the pastries and all their decorations, the sight of the people in the shop, the feeling of you hand in his.

Oh right.

You were with him, holding his hand, supporting him. He was gonna be okay, he made it this far.

"'S'alright, I'm alright." He said, more to himself than to you.

"Hey, if it's too much, we can leave." You said, taking a step away from him, worrying your presence was too much as well.

"No," he whispered, pulling you back to his side,"it's good, I'm good. Let's do this." He said, walking up towards the counter to look at the menu.

"Hey Y/N!" The barista said, greeting you, "I assume you'll have your usual?"

"Yep!" You responded.

"And what about for your friend here?" They asked, looking towards Yancy.

"Ise'll have an iced tea." He said, after much deliberation.

"Alright, will that be all for the two of you?" They asked.

"Sure is," you responded, handing them your card. "Thanks, Adrien."

The two of you headed over to a small booth by the window. While Yancy took in the rest of the shop, you took in his reaction. He had seemed to calm down, finally getting used to being somewhere new. He hadn't acted like this at your place, so you weren't sure exactly what caused it.

"Hey Yancy, you okay?" You asked, softly.

"Yeah, I'm good, doll. It was jus' a lotta new things all at once, kinda overloaded my senses is all." He responded, sheepishly.

"Yeah I get that, new places can be super intimidating, especially when they're so different from what you're used to. Don't worry, I've been there before and I can tell you, it gets easier." You said, trailing your hand up and down his arm. It was soothing to him, to feel your touch, grounding even. There was just something about you that made Yancy feel safe. Which was unusual as he was typically the one making others feel safe. It was a new sensation, and he didn't mind it.

"How do youse know so much 'bout my situation, huh?" Yancy asked, playfully.

"I'm kind of in the same boat, more or less. Or was. It's a point I'm definitely past, but one I vividly remember." You said.

"What do youse mean?" he asked, interest piqued.

"Well like, you know, depression, sensory overload, anxiety, self-loathing, the whole thing. It's something I've dealt with and am still dealing with. It's rough, and I know first hand. Of course, what you're going through is completely different from-" You said, beginning to ramble before Yancy cut you off.

"Wait, go back. Youse said somethin' 'bout sensory overload and anxiety. Can we talk 'bout that more?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course, what do you want to know?" You asked.

"So like, what exactly is that stuff first off. How do youse know if youse has it?" He asked, hesitantly.

"It's all stuff that has to do with your brain. It's a mental illness or disability. And to know if you have them, you typically look at symptoms and if you meet some of them then you could self diagnose yourself, or, you could go to a therapist, psychiatrist, or psychologist to get diagnosed professionally. And that was actually something I wanted to talk about with you. I hope this isn't too forward, but I've set up some interviews with some nearby therapists. I think it'd be a great help now that you're out."

"Huh." He said, taking a moment to take in and process the information. You could see pieces clicking into place as he processed.

"Yeah, Ise think that'll be a good thing for me, thank youse. Ya know youse didn't have to do that for me right? Youse already doin' so much, an' I feel like Ise ain't ever gonna be able to repay youse." He said, pulling away from you. This time though, you grabbed him to pull him back.

"Yancy, I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say this, but you do not need to repay me for this. This is the least I could do for you for helping me out. Let me help you, Yancy. Please." You said, taking his hands in yours.

Just as he was about to respond, Adrien walked over to your booth, with your drinks and a plate in tow.

"One iced tea, and one house special. Plus, one slice of lemon poppy seed cake, on the house." They said, placing all said items between you and Yancy. Adrien left with a sly smile and a wink.

"This looks delicious doll. An' you sure you ain't put in somethin' or nothin' to get this?" He asked, suspiciously.

"I said nothing! Adrien just tends to know more than they let on." You said, putting your hands up in defense.

"Alright, if youse says so." Yancy said, taking a sip of his iced tea.

"That's fantastic. What kinda tea's this?" He asked.

"I'm not sure, I'll make sure to ask though." You responded, taking a sip of your own drink.

"Oh, I had a few more questions for youse. How come there's art, but no photos or nothin' at your place?" He asked.

"Oh, well, the lack of photos is due to the fact that I just forget to take them. And the art, they’re all pieces that I've done. Art therapy is severely underrated." You said.

"Ah," he said in understanding. "Makes sense. An' what about all the notebooks everywhere?" He asked, remembering them all over the place.

"Oh! Those are all journals and sketchbooks! Like I said, art therapy is severely underrated, so I just sketch whenever I'm not doing too well or whenever. I also write sometimes. How I'm feeling, what I'm doing, short stories, dreams I've had, dreams I've turned into stories, stuff like that. And the thing is, I never know when an idea'll strike, so I have them all over to write down whenever I need to. Sometimes I draw pictures to go with them, but not usually. I just really like writing. If you couldn't tell by the letters." You said, reeling yourself in towards the end.

"That's amazing. Youse is, amazing, doll. You do all these great things, it's hard to imagine someone like youse bein' down. Ise never woulda guessed if youse hadn't told me yaself." He said, earnestly.

"Yeah, a lot of people don't notice. You know the whole, fake it til you make it thing. You know, people tell me I'm not that good of an actor but they don't realize how wrong they are." You said, trying to lighten the mood. You were awkwardly trying to turn yourself away from Yancy, trying to avoid his gaze. He looked like he was about to speak up when you interrupted him.

"Hey, we should try this cake! Lemon poppy seed is one of my favorites." You said picking up a fork.

Yancy just watched you as you tried to divert his attention away from you and onto the cake. If you really didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't push. There were things he felt he wasn't ready to talk about either. So instead of talking, he just allowed himself to sit back and watch you. You had offered him some of the cake, intending to hand your fork over to him, but instead he just ate the piece right off, letting you feed him. The look on your face was priceless, and you couldn't stop laughing. That was truly a sound he could never get tired of. And the sight of your smile was something he knew he'd never forget. You were simply a part of his life now. You had been for a while now.

Time had passed much quicker than you thought. You and Yancy had spent the majority of the afternoon talking to each other, learning all the things you hadn't put in your letters. You told him about your job, how you found the cafe, anything you could remember about the area. And Yancy, in turn, listened, trying to consume as much information as possible, since he was going to be living here of course. As the two of you were heading out, Adrien mentioned that there was an opening at the cafe, passing it off as if either of you were looking for a job and not just Yancy in particular. And as if to sweeten the pot, they also mentioned how staff got free drinks on their shift. And knowing how much Yancy had liked that iced tea, you thought this would be a great fit.

As the two of you were driving back, you had finally noticed how dark it had gotten, making it time for phase two. When you had arrived home, you told Yancy to wait in the truck while you grabbed a few things.

"I promise, I'll be right back." You said with a smile before dashing inside.

You had left the box on the kitchen counter, and the basket in the fridge, making it easy to grab. Everything else was in the back of your truck. With your hands full, you ran back as fast as you could, not wanting to leave Yancy alone for too long. When you got back, you tossed the stuff in the back, making sure to not let Yancy see, maintaining the surprise.

"Alright!" You said, hopping back in the front seat. "Let's go." And with that, you began driving.

Yancy had been unsure about what the night held for the two of you. He trusted you, without a doubt, but the fear of the unknown was still fairly present. And after watching you rush up and then rush back only to toss things in the back before he could get a good look was disconcerting. But he let it go. As he said, he trusted you, and so he waited. He waited as you started the car, waited as you drove down the road, waited as you turned into a park, waited as you went down a worn but secluded path, and waited until you had finally spoken up.

"We're here." You said, with hushed excitement. You exited the car, and headed towards the back to unlock the tailgate. Leaving Yancy to exit himself and take in the view.

You had kept your promise. You had taken him to a forest, a clearing surrounded by trees, and he couldn't be happier. He ran up behind you and picked you up, spinning you around.

You were shocked, but began laughing as you realized it was Yancy.

"What's this about?" You asked between laughs.

"The trees! They're fantastic!" He yelled, moving to put you on his shoulders. "Look at them!" He was absolutely elated to see them, and you could tell.

"Wait, wait!" You said, trying to guide him back to the truck. You reached inside the basket and pulled out a knife.

"Ok! Let's go!" You said. Yancy brought you to the closest tree, and you began carving yours and his name into it, you knew he wouldn't be able to see it so you added a heart around the names. You could dream. Then you passed the knife to him. Before he carved anything though, he stabbed it into the tree, slightly scaring you. But he made up for it by gently bringing you off his shoulders and back on to the ground.

"Ise don't wanna risk droppin' youse while tryin' to carve our names, yeah?" He said, genuine care in his eyes.

"Of course." You whispered.

"Alright then, watch this." He said, before making quick work of the tree, carving out bits and pieces to create a stylized version of his and your names. It was impressive, really.

You couldn't help but admire his skill, his precision, his natural aptitude for working with a knife. He would be exceptional at woodcarving, you thought.

"There. What do youse think?" He asked, looking towards you, looking for your approval.

"It's wonderful Yancy." You said, earnestly.

The two of you just stood there for a moment, getting lost in each other's eyes, basking in each other's presence. Just being thankful to be around each other again. It truly had been too long since the two of you were together, and it seemed as though now that you were together again, neither of you wanted to be away from each other again.

"Hey, c'mere, I wanna show you something." You said, bringing Yancy over to the truck bed. You hopped in and patted the spot beside you.

Yancy hadn't see it before now, but he finally saw what you had thrown in back here, and what was presumably already back here. There was a mattress taking up the majority of the truck bed, with several blankets on the edges with twice as many pillows. And next to you was a picnic basket as well as-

"Is that the thing Heapass sent youse?" He asked, climbing in next to you.

"Yeah it is. But we'll get to that alright? Let's have something a little more substantial first." You said, opening up the picnic basket.

"As it was the only thing I could get out of you, I have your favorite sandwich. Turkey and smoked Gouda, with some lettuce, tomato, mayo, and hot sauce. As requested." You said, making an entire show of bringing out the sandwich and handing it to him.

"I can't believe youse remembered. How many months back did Ise tell you? I can't believe youse did all this for me." He said, taking the sandwich and biting into it.

"Doll, this is so much better than Ise coulda imagined." He said, mouth full.

"I promised you the perfect day right? How would you rate it so far?" You asked.

"Ise'll tell you what doll, Ise had high expectations, but youse passed 'em ages ago." He said.

"I'm glad." You said, smiling at him. You took out a sandwich of your own and began eating too. And you also pulled out a fruit salad in case he was still hungry. The two of you hadn't really had much to eat at the cafe, so you had packed all this in case. And eat he did. While he ate, you laid back, and looked up at the sky. This was the perfect place to go stargazing, and you always came here when you needed a moment to recuperate. You hoped Yancy would take advantage of this place too.

After he had finished eating, Yancy laid himself beside you, and looked up at the stars, reveling in the silence.

"That's Orion's Belt, and that's the Little Dipper, at its tip is Polaris, the North Star. That bright spot right there is Venus, and that smaller bright spot is Jupiter." You said, pointing out each constellation and planet.

"I love coming out here. It reminds me that as small as I might be, I'm still here. Still made of stardust, still capable of anything." You said, though to who you were speaking to was unclear. But you both benefited from hearing it.

Yancy said nothing. He didn't need to. The two of you had lived through so many unspoken words in your letters, this was really no different. You both knew how you felt.

"Oh!" You remembered, "The box!" You said, pulling it out, turning to Yancy to open it. From inside, you pulled out two necklaces, each with a ring and small key on it.

"Doll, where'd youse get these?" He asked in wonder.

"Do you remember that package Heapass sent me with one of your letters? Well inside were these two small rings, and when you look on the inside, our names are engraved. I thought that I could have the one with your name and you could have the one with my name, just so we can remember each other. And the box you gave me the night we escaped? Well, it had a universal skeleton key inside of it. Meaning I could've come back for you, but I didn't. I'm sorry." You explained.

"Doll, if youse had gotten me out then, I doubt I'd be the same person. Ise needed that time. So thank you, for not gettin' me out too soon." He said, calming your worries.

"If you say so. But anyway, I had it melted down into two keys. I'm not sure if it lost its powers, but I thought it might be nice for us to have matching keys, you know, because you've got the key to my heart and all that? I know, I know, it's cheesy. It's all pretty cheesy."

"Y/N, Ise love it. Ise love youse." He said, finally speaking the unspoken truth between you two, bringing his forehead to touch yours.

There was silence, then recognition, and finally joy. Indescribable joy. The smile on your face was shining brighter than the stars in the sky, and Yancy couldn't look away.

"I love you too." You whispered, smiling still, you head tilting forward until you were smiling against him. He smiled too, and kissed you chastely, but you could feel the love behind it. It was sweet, the perfect kiss, to end the perfect day.

In that moment, you truly felt like you were made of stardust.

#fic #fic:yancy #ahwm yancy #yancy/reader #/reader

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martietm · 5 years ago

Text

hey friends ! it’s ya girl gigi , i prefer she/her pronouns , i’m from the gmt-2 tmz , which tbh , i don’t rly know what it means , and i’m twenty years old , coming out of my hole to introduce u to martina . she’s real dumb but so am i so i feel like we connect over that u know ? anyways , under the cut u will find some more info about her , n if u wanna plot pls smash that like button so i can scream @ u about how high school musical 3 rly was that bitch . yes , thats why it took me so long to get this posted . i have no shame about it .

ariana grande . cisfemale . she&her . ／ martina bianco just pulled up blasting 929 by halsey — that song is so them ! you know , for a twenty five year old singer , i’ve heard they’re really impetuous , but that they make up for it by being so sociable . if i had to choose three things to describe them , i’d probably say old band t-shirts , high ponytail & dirty sneakers . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble !

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 :

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : martina bianco . 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : martie exclusively . please call her martie she will not answer if u call her anything else or maybe she’ll just cry abt it . 𝐚𝐠𝐞 : twenty five . 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 : singer / songwriter . 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 : closeted bisexual / biromantic . 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 : newark , nj . 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 : los angeles , ca / new york city , ny . 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 : ariana grande . 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 : sociable , sincere , clueless , impulsive , unbothered , insecure , funloving , creative , unsure , adventurous .

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 :

martie is the only daughter out of five kids , and she was born to a traditionally italian family , from both her parents’ sides . they weren’t rich but lived comfortably , and had a really big family in general . holidays and birthdays were always huge in her family , and there was usually a funny argument that ended with the grandmas spraying everyone with a water hose . her parents weren’t very happy together , but tried their best to work through their problems and not divorce , since they were very much christians and didn’t really believe in separation . they did eventually divorce though , but only pretty later on in martie’s life .

considering she only had brothers and her mother worked long hours , martie didn’t have a lot of female influences in her life , so she grew up pretty unconcerned about more feminine matters , not because she disliked it but she was just clueless to it . when she grew older , she got a lot more into makeup , but fashion still isn’t her thing . nowadays , she has a personal stylist , but when she dresses herself , martie usually ends up in dirty sneakers and ripped t-shirts .

so , growing up , considering martie wasnt too interested in most of her brothers hobbies , she had to find herself something to do . she tried a great many deal of things , and ended up discovering she loved music , writing song lyrics , playing musical instruments , and singing . considering she was pretty good at it , her parents supported her wishes and paid for singing lessons & bought her a bunch of instruments and all of that .

[ HOMOPHOBIA / BIPHOBIA TW ] so she was pretty happy and chill for her late childhood & early teens , contrary to some of her brothers , martie didnt get in trouble with teachers and was a reasonably good student , so they never worried about her while she was growing up . that pretty much all changed when martie not only came out as bisexual to her family but also told them she was actually in a relationship a girl . her family was very religious so it didn’t surprise her when her mother cried for days & was�� clearly disappointed , but her dad raged and screamed and threatened her with all kinds of punishments if she didn’t end her relationship and never talked about her sexuality again instead , and his behaviour made her feel so scared that she did end up breaking up with her first girlfriend and didn’t touch the subject of her sexuality for many many years after that . [ END OF TW ]

it caused a huge shift in her family dynamics , unsurprisingly . martie felt like she didnt have a choice but to hide , and she really resented her father for forcing that on her & the rest of the family for giving her almost no support . her brothers tried their best , but it was really hard for all of them to stand up to their father . so she focused a lot on her music , because by then she was sure that it was her way out of that environment that was hurting her so much .

she was picked up by a label when she was 19 , and left her home in newark as soon as she could . choosing to stay with new friends and acquaintances as she worked her way into the music industry . after being featured in a few other artist’s songs & having a first single to become a smash hit ( side to side ) , martie released dangerous woman , her first album that climbed steadily up the charts until she was basically everywhere . it was a very sudden change of environment but she was very happy about it , at least she wasnt stuck around her dad anymore .

however , she is still just as stuck as she was back in her hometown , since once she blew up , her label & management thought it would also be a good idea to hide her sexuality , at least until she was more ‘established’ in the industry . newsflash , its been five years and they still wont let her come out about it . she’s definitely growing impatient , though , so that’s not something that’s gonna be a secret for too long probably . still , there’s not a lot of ppl who know abt her sexuality out there so far .

so , in the five years she’s been famous , martie kept in contact with a few family members , but definitely not her dad . her parents divorced a couple of years after she left , and her mom decided to make more of an effort to be around her & get over her prejudice to support martie’s choices , which helped heal their relationship in ways martie didnt really expect .

considering the career she has now , martie has managed to keep a relatively unproblematic image on the media . she’s had her controversial moments for sure , and there are definitely reasons for people to dislike her , but mostly she gets away unscathed by fans , the media does have a field trip coming up w untrue headlines about her tho .

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 :

okay so , martie is kinda like a not so big kid still ? she’s never had to actually be by herself her entire life , so adulting is something she has a certain difficulty doing . she’s very unbothered about life in general , so something really worrying that mostly everyone would freak out about will rarely ever bother her . but , she will freak out for three days if she gets asked to pay her own bills or something as mundane .

she also kinda lives in her own little world , and in a way , she can be very confident in the aspect of not really bothering about almost anyone’s opinions about her & her actions , if she wants to do something that will make her happy , she won’t really think about it before doing so , so she’s kinda reckless in that way . but she also doubts herself very much when it comes to self worth & like things related to her actual personality . we love multifaceted muses am i right ? lmao

martie is great to make friends with , she will pretty much get along with everyone ? is a super social being , loves being surrounded by people , probably has a bunch of her friends living with her because she just doesn’t like being alone .

loves working ! spends almost her entire free time in the studio , if u haven’t seen her in three days chances are she’s trying to finish a song . can get a little lost on it though so she definitely needs some looking after when she gets into songwriting mode .

overall a disaster child ? doesn’t know how to function but tries her best & isn’t that all we can ask ?

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

a secret relationship with a girl , work collaborators , a pr relationship , exes , the first love from high school maybe ? , roommates , best friends , protective friendships , good influences , bad influences , smth based on ghostin’ by ari , something based on you should be sad by halsey .

#excess:intro #um this took me a Minute #im sorry pls enjoy this late mess

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sureivy · 5 years ago

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is that HALSEY? no, that’s just IVY CALDER. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR years old and is an EMPLOYEE AT DON’T FRET & PAWS 4 LOVE. rumor has it they’ve been in town for FOUR MONTHS / TEN YEARS. on a good day, they’re CREATIVE & VERSATILE. but watch out! they can also be IRRESPONSIBLE & VOLATILE. TRIGGER BANG BY LILY ALLEN (FT. GIGGS) plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

hello my pals ! i’m amy ( 20 // est // she/her ) and i am super excited to be here! we also over here bringing back a fairly old muse (i,, apparently,, play her during election years,,) with a couple of tweaks, so we love that for me! also! pls forgive me if this is lowkey disorganized, we’ve been in and out of airports all day! can’t wait to contract that sexy corona!

QUICK FACTS:

full name: ivy rose calder

date of birth: may 2, 1995

*does not perfectly reflect the below big three zodiac chart because that’s too much math

zodiac big three: taurus sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual ( preference for women bc we luv that for her but we also luv leaving things open to chemistry )

education: high school diploma

enneagram: 7w8?

mbti: enfp

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

positive traits: creative, versatile, passionate, compassionate

negative traits: irresponsible, volatile, impressionable, hedonistic

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: brief implied sexual abuse, suicide, a lot of death talk?, drug abuse ( desoxyn ), overdose

ivy lived the first eight years of her life in newark, nj. she had a mere family of three – her mother, a model-turned-stay-at-home-mom, her father, a politician, and herself. she was much closer to her mother, but she and her father were close at night.

when her mother finally found out about this, she wasted no time in taking ivy’s father’s side. what a good mom! instead, ya girl was already getting in touch with cps herself... but wow... it was gonna ruin his career in politics :\

“Now, one thing I lerned from Storys is, when something big is about to okur, a riter will go: Then it hapened! This tells the reeder: Get Reddy. Here I go: Then it hapened!” - fox 8

then it happened!

humiliated, clearly never getting a platform back, and absolutely bitter, ivy’s father killed himself before being sent to prison.

Very Tragique™

ok. so. to distance themselves from the poor memories, but to save money, ivy and her mother moved to springhill, temporarily sharing ivy’s aunt’s apartment while her mother began collecting enough money to buy an apartment of their own and keep it.

during this time, ivy was seeing a lot of people and she didn’t know why! they asked questions about her mental health, but she didn’t know why! i mean, totally not traumatic, right?

yes. instead of managing communication well, she became very fascinated by the concept of death. she had many questions about it, she, a youth, had some extended conversations with clergymen about it –– she never killed any animals, god forbid, but she was absolutely fascinated when she ran across them.

SO CLEARLY THAT WAS ALSO TRYING TO BE DEALT WITH.

ok, i’m gonna skip ahead a little. now in teen years and still fascinated by death, but in a healthier way!, and no longer in therapy because... like... that costs a lot of money!

she dealt with it the best she could. became enamored with music... because why wouldn’t she? some covers here and there, some originals here and there, living that youtube lyf, but not expecting anything to come of it. just liked validation! mood!

she also dealt with it the worst she could! became enamored with drugs! naturally, it started out small. some weed, some lsd, some molly –– you know, just drugs that you don’t typically think of as addictive. although her grades suffered, it was harmless enough...

upon graduating high school, she figured... no college. instead, with barely any money to her name, she was like “i... will go to new york... and i will become famous.”

and she did! she did go to new york! she found a few sketchy places that didn’t charge much for a few nights as she began networking - both socially and “i would like to be known for music” (i literally just forgot the word for networking like..... employment wise.... y’all i’m so dumb). when she’d made some friends, she began crashing on couches that were not quite as sketchy!

but :\ she did meet these friends in sketchy places :\ and they were like “ok here r some new and more addictive drugs for u to try!”

what she wound up abusing using the most was desoxyn. it kept her awake, it kept her focused, it even shed a few pounds to create an excellent figure! what wasn’t to love!

i mean it’s literally a prescription methamphetamine,,, when abused,,, literally almost exact same effects as meth,,, but when meth mouth, skin lesions, acne, etc aren’t occurring as a side effect? who was she to care!

20, she released an actual ep with the help of a super cool friend who made everyone call him puppy mills! wow! things were excellent! it wasn’t necessarily seeing mainstream traction, but there was a decent enough following! enough to release an album at 22!

perfect timing, btw! desoxyn was starting to become too expensive for puppy to afford and trying to fake having such a severe form of adhd that desoxyn would be prescribed as opposed to something like ritalin or adderal when it’s literally illegal to prescribe in some countries now?? too hard :\ but the money from the album helped her and puppy!

*olaf vc* puppy died. *end vc*

she was there for it too. she thought it was just a freak-out, took a LITTLE too much, but not OVERDOSE worthy... then he l i t e r a l l y died. and it was a painful death!

“oh wow! maybe prescription meth isn’t super cool after all! shucks!” but that was also an opening?? to visit death herself?? like... she didn’t necessarily want to die (sort of), but she wanted... an answer to the question that had plagued her her entire life... so she was like “ok hope i die then someone revives me but if i die then :\ i guess i die!”

did not die. but also did not get a satisfying answer to her question. the only way it would’ve been truly satisfying? if she had been dead for longer than a minute - then it would’ve given a definite answer! because the answer she received was just nothingness which, while peaceful... is it true?

she tried to detox alone, what because rehab is a business, and it... only... sort of worked. she would be clean for a few weeks, then fall back in, then clean for a few weeks, then fall back in. whenever she wasn’t just naturally focused and awake, or whenever what she was focused on was the past, she would fall back in.

i mean, a side effect is memory loss, so win/win!

she made the semi-wise decision to move back to springhill. wisest would’ve been to just move to a town/city she had absolutely no memories in, but better than moving back to newark!

so... without much to show, and with an unreliable streak, she knew she wouldn’t be able to start looking for much of an occupation – but she still needed money! so she began working at don’t fret out of a love for music, then began working at the animal shelter after completing training.

the main training was, of course, for putting animals to sleep.

FULL CIRCLE.

ah yes. how she pretends it’s healthy... even tho there are studies and statistics relating suicide to veterinarians and shelter workers who euthanize animals... ah yes.

has been back for four months now. love that. do not know how to finish this.

TL ; DR:

born in newark. moved to springhill at 8. childhood trauma that she is still carrying causes fascination with death. “i love music.” moved to ny at 18 because realistic. childhood trauma also causes dependency on desoxyn. releases an ep and an album. does not become famous, but they both have decent traction. moves back after an overdose. relapses... often. now sells records and puts animals to sleep. miss american dream since she was 17, amirite?

PERSONALITY / MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

one person one week, a totally different person the next.

wants to please people, but also wants to be her own person? it’s a whole deal!

in spite of her slight icarian incident, she still hopes to maybe one day become a real musician and performer. until then, we selling records and saying ‘goodbye’ to sweet animals!

can truly flip like a switch in interactions! does love ruining things for herself! almost always feels bad after bc :\ damn :\ alright :\

i’m very bad at these sections i really hate that i always include them!

is still avoiding healthy coping mechanisms. love that for her.

favorite movie is, unironically, the bee movie. favorite horror movie is cats.

SO GOOD at memorizing random lines or trivia. could probably recite literally all of who’s afraid of virginia woolf? other than that?? her memory is so bad. hate drugs for that :\

she uses her hair to express herself! (that sounds really boring.) ...she uses her hair to express herself!

but no. seriously. wears the black shag weave the most, followed by the blue/yellow combo ( we stan the badlands aesthetic ). occasionally forays into other colors and styles when money permits, but it’s usually gonna be one of those two!!

was an envy on the coast stan in high school which makes an inappropriate amount of sense.

will go out and steal the dumbest shit when she’s drunk. has a history of stealing chickens.

once again: hate that i always include these!! feel free 2 j consult the personality parts in the quick facts!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

ok we gonna list some general ones for right now! all are open to multiple people unless there’s an asterisk by it!

close friends –– moonie, teagan,

ride or die

childhood friends –– moonie,

bad influence ( mutual or her on them ) –– veronica ( mutual ),

good influence ( them on her ) –– presley, hayden, gabrielle,

exes ( can be from high school or something like that if based in springhill, can be from 20s in new york if based in new york )

fwb –– trent,

will they, won’t they –– presley,

someone who knew her music ( can be neutral, a fan of it, or hate it afhkjsl ) –– presley, moonie, teagan, indiana,

will also possibly be sending in some wanted connections for things that are! more specific!

truly anything!! also up to brainstorm and/or look at yours if you have them!!

UPDATE: i have created a wc page so we luv that for me.

OK. like this or hmu if you’d like to plot!

#springhillintro #DONT WORRY THERE'S A TL;DR I. DIDNT KNOW WHEN TO STOP.#also!! am gonna leave the ooc post up for a few so i have reference for who liked it bc i must!!#depart for about an hour and a half and i do not want!! to forget!! y'all idk what im doing today.

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cassoliver · 5 years ago

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new york’s very own cassandra “cass” oliver was spotted on broadway street in reebok club c 85 vintage shoes . your resemblance to sydney sweeney is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being naive , but also compassionate . i guess being a pisces explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be exposed tan lines , loud laughter , and only ever wearing gold jewelry . ( i slept with one of my co-stars while we were shooting on location, not knowing they had a significant other back home ) & ( cis-female & she / her )

lia takes on a second character TAKE TWO whAT is up you guys , it’s ya girl back at it again with another muse . i randomly got a lot of inspiration for this new girly pop and i feel p good about it ! go ahead and smash that mf like button if you wanna plot ! i can slide into your ims or on discord if that’s more your jam !

S T A T S ↴

– * FULL NAME : cassandra rosemary oliver – NICKNAME(S) : cass ( commonly referred as ), cassie – * AGE : twenty-one – * D.O.B : march 16th – * ZODIAC : pisces – * GENDER : cis-female –* ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic – * HEIGHT : 5′4″ – * NATIONALITY : american – * BIRTHPLACE : asbury park , new jersey – * OCCUPATION : student + actress – * TRAITS : compassionate, creative, intuitive, gentle, empathetic, fun-loving, naive, whimsical, loyal, subservient, overly emotional, pensive, fearful, overly trusting

B I O G R A P H Y ↴

you’d have to be living under a rock to not know jeremy and elizabeth marie oliver . think brad pitt and angelina jolie , will smith and jada pinkett , or whatever other celebrity IT couple you fancy . jeremy is notoriously known for his acting career that took off in the late 80′s . around the same time , elizabeth marie’s acting / modeling career was taking off across the pond . the iconic duo met through work and quickly fell in love . after their over the top wedding ceremonies ( yes plural . they got married once in jeremy’s hometown in new jersey and then again in elizabeth marie’s hometown in england ). shortly after their holy matrimony , they produced three healthy babies : mason , samuel , and cassandra . there were a few years in between the kiddos , but they were all raised in a tight knit family outside of the limelight in asbury park , new jersey . their parents decided to take a break from working in order to raise their kids . i wish i could say that gave the oliver trio a normal childhood . but it’s kind of hard to go to public school and not draw attention to yourself when your parents are household names . it was hard for cassandra to understand that her parents were super famous and for some reason that meant something to people . if you asked her , there was no reason to get all starstruck over her parents . they were just people after all .

so i guess you could say she had a normal childhood . at least , as normal as one could have with their name and photos constantly plastered all over tabloids . cassandra grew up in a happy and loving environment , which is nice . and with her dad working part time as a professor at his alma mater , juilliard , she and her family bounced back and forth between their coastal home in new jersey and their urban townhouse in new york . and she throughly enjoyed experiencing the best of both worlds . both places felt like home to her and she and her brothers made the best memories together . see , her brothers were her best friends growing up . mason and samuel were five (5) and three (3) years older than her , respectively , and she followed them around everywhere they went . the two boys let her reluctantly at first when mom and dad forced them to but over time it became enjoyable to have her be just another member of their friend group . cassandra was well liked and throughly protected by her brothers and their friends . they shielded her away from all things dangerous : from substances to rude people . this led to a pretty sheltered upbringing . she lived in this little bubble where things were all good all the time .

as she got older , she had to learn to fend for herself a bit more . no longer was she under the watchful gaze of her brothers , for they had rushed into graduating high school early so that they could pursue their own acting careers-- following in line with their infamous parents . having the oliver last name gave them an advantage in the film industry and they ran with that opportunity . meanwhile , cassandra stayed back and took her time . acting was always something she was interested in . there’s no way she could be a member of her household and not dabble in the art at least a little bit . but it wasn’t a top priority to her for a long time . she didn’t want to rely on her family name to get her somewhere in the industry . if she was going to do it , she wanted to do it right . she wanted to earn her place just like anybody else . and if it worked out for her then great ! and if it didn’t , well she prepared a back-up plan . she elected to go to NYU for business instead of studying acting or just bypassing college all together . she figured if all else failed , then she’d start her own company and branch out of the creative arts .

and she took her college career very seriously . she’s studious and hard-working , genuinely enjoying learning new things and having a ‘ normal college experience ’. even though people still look at her funny or talk about her behind her back once they figure out why she looks so gosh darn familiar , she’s come to find that college students are much more chill than the kids that used to bombard her with questions about her famous family on the play ground . most days , cassandra gets by feeling like a completely normal girl . no fame or fortune , just a regular schemgular student trying to get by . and she’d probably gotten away with just melting into the background and never breaking out into the limelight if it wasn’t for one little netflix project she agreed on .

it was just supposed to be another passion project . cassandra had done a few small roles in indie movies at that point . just enough to dip her toes into the movie making world but not enough to drag her away from getting a higher education . but when a script for a new netflix original series was slid in her direction by a family friend turned agent-- well , she just couldn’t put it down ! she loved everything about the show and knew she just had to be a part of it . so she gave up one summer of her life to film OUTER BANKS , not at all thinking that it would blow up the way it did a year later when it premiered . and now news is breaking out that the youngest oliver is finally stepping out into the acting scene , which is warranting a lot of media attention towards her . honestly , she feels pretty good about the project itself . she’s very proud of the show and is incredibly grateful that it’s doing as well as it is . but when it comes to all the notoriety she’s getting because of it , well ... she’s still adjusting to being famous in her own right and not just secondhand through her family . she’s a little overwhelmed . she’s a big girl now that has to navigate through this next chapter of her life without anybody holding her hand or shielding her from the highs and lows of being known . whether or not she thrives in the limelight or crumbles under the pressure is to be determined .

P E R S O N A L I T Y & F U N F A C T S ↴

i think it’s really funny to call her the third franco brother ( yes dave and james have a third brother , his name is tom ). bc like her brothers are essentially mega stars w all the movies they’ve been in at this point and she’s sort of the other sibling that everyone forgets about . y’know until recently lol

she is a giant sweetheart !! just v lovey and kind and empathetic ,, has a warmth to her that makes it feel like it’s summertime all the time

v humble bc she does not consider herself famous what so ever . like being second-hand famous from her family and getting a few extra instagram followers bc of her last name is one thing , but with the success of her current show she’s being put on covers of magazines , being interviewed for teen vogue and stuff like that , getting verified on everything , and gaining hundreds of thousands of followers DAILY . it’s crazy to her

naive in the sense that she’s rlly out here thinking that everyone has a heart as big as hers and has only the best intentions when sadly that might not be the case !! so like ,,,, probs gets taken advantage of and doesn’t even realize it . or messes things up bc she thinks she can just continue living a normal average joe life when in reality her whole life has been far from average ,, the whole world’s got their eye on her and everything she says and does publicly can and will be scrutinized and she is just …. not prepared for that

wants to have a good time and do cool art sh*t !! as long as she’s being creative in some aspect , she’s happy . honestly doesn’t take a lot to make her happy

but also when she gets sad oh boy oh boy does she get sad . pretty much down and out and nothing anyone says or does can make her feel better unfortunately . will just self isolate and you just gotta let her ride it out ://

hobbies include painting , reading , collecting plants , and taking photos

has a second instagram account just for her photography ! @casstookthis lol

lives with her “babies” which are like 10 house plants and all of her books

v family oriented ! goes to visit her parents regularly and talks to her brothers basically daily despite living on two different coasts

acting was always something she knew she wanted to do-- and that may or may not have to do w her parents’ influence and the pressure to follow in their foot steps just like her brothers did

as kids , she and her brothers would work together to put on performances in the living room for their parents . they’d make “short films” and upload them to all 6 of their subscribers on youtube

allergic to cats but wants one so bad ,, has never had a pet in her life actually

the little things amuse her . her sense of humor is really quite simple . hit her w some puns and / or a dad joke and you’ll have her rolling

is learning how to speak mandarin and french

always over-prepared , never underprepared ,, needs to feel like she is capable of handling anything or else she panics

cannot tell a lie to save her life , gets nervous and can’t make eye contact

at any given moment , you can tell what she’s thinking and what she’s feeling just from taking one look at her face . sometimes she tries to mask it because she is an actress after all . but it’s not hard to see through the facade that she puts on if you know her well

hopeless romantic af ! romanticizes everything in life ! loves love in all forms , romantic , platonic , self love , whatever ! looks at the world through rose tinted glasses and heart eyes ! probably falls in love with a person , place , or thing at least 5 times a day !

prefers summer and living near a beach / some body of water over living in the middle of the city . so she’ll often visit back home or go stay with her brothers in LA , not just to be closer to family , but to be more in her element

her family has so many houses simply bc their lives are all over the place ???? like they kept her childhood home in new jersey but they also always had a luxury townhouse in new york plus a summer home in the hamptons and a cottage in england and an apartment in los angeles that her brothers currently reside in . she used to just stay in the townhouse while going to school but she recently bought her own apartment bc she wants to be #independent

might catch her as the lead in a new netflix original movie coming soon *wink wink*

is in love with her best friend east harvey and they’re getting married

WANTED CONNECTIONS PAGE HERE

#wealthyhq:intro #this is short right? i tried to keep it short #but anyways plz love my soft girly pop

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alannah-corvaine · 5 years ago

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alannah; neverending survey

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Alannah Ailíse Caireann Corvaine Outway

NICKNAME: Little Bird (Faron only)

AGE: almost 23

BIRTHDAY: 10/16

ETHNIC GROUP: Midlander Hyur

NATIONALITY: Thanalanian

LANGUAGE/S: Common, a hodgepodge of things she's picked up from books

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Demisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married (verse dependent)

HOME TOWN / AREA: Drybone, Eastern Thanalan

CURRENT HOME: The Grey Fleet, Lower LaNoscea

PROFESSION: Professional White Mage™, Healer, Purifier

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Rich, dark brown with white streaks extending from her roots (magical scars)

EYES: Sea Green

FACE: Slightly angular, but still has baby fat

LIPS: Full, pouty, usually covered in neutral tone gloss

COMPLEXION: Sickly pale

BLEMISHES: Birthmark under her left eye, constant red splotchy patches due to allergies

SCARS: The white in her hair, a mark between her shoulderblades where she was kicked by an aldgoat as a child

TATTOOS: Flowery vines crawling up the left side of her ribcage (permanent), stabilizing arcanima symbols all over her arms (temporary, reapplied daily)

HEIGHT: 5′2″

WEIGHT: 135 ponze

BUILD: Petite

FEATURES: Extremely striking eyes, more girlish than womanly facial structure

ALLERGIES: Severe pollen and pet allergies, mildly allergic to some foods and perfumes

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Worn long, down to her hips. Either in a sidebraid, high ponytail with various small braids, or loose

USUAL FACE LOOK : Lost in thought

USUAL CLOTHING: Loose, flowing, bohemian style. Lots of white, lots of bangles, delicate necklaces and rings. Sometimes hair ornaments. Barefoot or sandals, doesn't believe in socks. While "working" she prefers trenchcoats open at the waist, shorts, and knee-high boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Failure, guns, the excited laugh her daughter makes when she's found something "interesting"

ASPIRATION/S: To be a powerful mage, fix her borked aether, and to be a better mother to her daughter than Christaine was to her

POSITIVE TRAITS: Insatiably curious, focused, dedicated, protective, kind, funny, generous

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Emotionally distant, petty, wrathful, impulsive, reckless, gets lost in her own head and forgets to come back out

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S: Artisan

ANIMALS: --

VICE HABIT/S: Swearing, letting her temper get the best of her, alcohol (very rarely, because it ends badly)

FAITH: Hail Hydra Hydaelyn

GHOSTS?: ...verse dependent (lol)

AFTERLIFE?: Not so much an afterlife as much as being recycled by the Lifestream.

REINCARNATION?: Yes

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: I mean...she might be a bit of an ecoterrorist?

EDUCATION LEVEL: Self taught through an ungodly amount of reading

FAMILY.

FATHER : Aedan Corvaine

MOTHER : Christaine Harlow Corvaine (deceased)

SIBLINGS : Faron, Ean, Davon, Brennan

EXTENDED FAMILY: Nine Outway (husband), Aislinn Outway (daughter), Moira Corvaine (aunt), Fayre Harlow (maternal grandmother), Fasshon Fuqushon (step-grandfather), Veronique Corvaine (sister-in-law), Isobel Corvaine (niece), Octavia Outway (sister-in-law)

NAME MEANING/S: You know, I spent hours looking up names with fitting means for Alannah’s family members way back when, but I am absolutely too lazy to go find them again

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Technical studies on the properties and workings of aether, historical volumes, adventure and fantasy stories, and sometimes a romance novel

DEITY: Hail Hydra Hydaelyn

HOLIDAY: Starlight

MONTH: July

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: La Noscea

WEATHER: Snow

SOUND / S: The almost electric hum of magic, the sound that Nine makes when she scratches his head

SCENT / S: White musk, fresh bread baking, old books, lemongrass

TASTE / S: Wine, dandelion tea, almond cream croissants

FEEL / S: Being magically powerful, sleeping on fresh sheets, wearing her husband’s shirts, snuggling with her daughter

ANIMAL / S: Fish, since they’re the only thing that doesn’t maker her sneeze

NUMBER: 9 (lol)

COLORS: White, black, any pastel or sherbet colors

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Retaining large amounts of information. magical aptitude (even if she has to fight her unstable aether for it), large scale destruction, cooking exactly one meal, tripping on flat surfaces, the ability to braid anything

BAD AT: Wielding any kind of melee weapon, seeing without her glasses, remembering where she put her glasses, keeping up a conversation without getting lost in her thoughts, public speaking, remembering to drink her tea before it gets cold

TURN ONS: Patience, humor, calloused hands, empathy, confidence, kindness

TURN OFFS: Arrogance, cruelty, smarminess, apathy, insensitivity

HOBBIES: Researching, reading, sketching, playing the harp, traveling/seeing new places, teaching her daughter how to human, using her husband as a nap pillow

TROPES: (oh god there are so many, these are just a few) Caged Bird Metaphor, Grass is Greener, Kitsch Collection, Misery Builds Character, Now Let Me Carry You, #1 Dime, Wake-up Call, Grew a Spine, Rage Breaking Point, Big Screwed Up Family, Black Sheep

QUOTES : “my bitterness was sometimes rest and sometimes ecstacy grace or rage, always the two opposites ready to annihilate each other and to rise from the ruins of the vanquished.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : Listen, I shamelessly love YA dystopian fiction, so it would be something in that vein, where Alannah is OP as fuck running around and blowing shit up as the young heroine main focus. Also there’s all of the romance tropes (sandwiched between developmental angst, of course), because I like them, and nobody’s allowed to bitch about it.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : It would be scored by a collaboration of Two Steps From Hell, Hans Zimmer, Jeremy Soule, and Zack Hemsey, and my ears would orgasm.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : I don’t like doing the whole “my character is just me or an extension of me” thing, it just never feels right. I also can’t just look at the avatar I’m using and see nothing but pixels and just “play the game.” She has to have a personality, a backstory, a reason for what she’s doing. Also it’s a great creative outlet for me because I love coming up with stories in my head as I go. And thus Alannah was born from the soup of inspiration made up of many various characters I’ve loved over the years.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : She was supposed to be something new, a kind of character that I’ve never written before. All of my female characters end up badass, overpowered, and full of personal angst, because that’s just my thing. And yeah, Alannah’s reached that point, but the point is I tried.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : I feel like I can never get her voice right, she always just ends up sounding like me.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : The longer she’s around, the more of my traits she absorbs by osmosis. At this point she shares like 80% of my personality and traits and is completely unrecognizable from my original concept for her.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : I am a generous god.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : My favorite thing to explore, if it isn’t grossly obvious, is her different relationships with each of her siblings, probably because I have none.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9 : Mostly music and books, sometimes games. I have so many AUs for Alannah. Actually writing things, however, is another matter entirely.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?

A10 : I had it done by the end of the work day after working on it between things I had to do, but then SOMEBODY tumblr drafts had to blow it up so I had to start over from the halfway point. I am not amused.

tagged by: @resistance-ranger [thankyou♥]

tagging: @keeperprinceling @menphinasbow @keeperofthelilacs @fheythfully @manawalls @khaamara @ahlis-xiv @aethernoise @castthemintotheabyss @alphiinaud @chysgoda @dragons-bones @astrophoros-ffxiv @loslorien @nuclearanomaly @zunshtral @card-and-flame @carmen-ffxiv @arabeka-ffxiv @voidwife @crowsaerie-rp @apassingshadow @violet-warder @hydrangea-fields @areniaagn @autumnslance @keltgeim @holyja @unmend @pulse-oflife

#LETS TRY THIS AGAIN #now that my rage has finally calmed #about alannah #character profile #long post #pls forgive me if you didnt wanna be tagged

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fxndingsolace · 5 years ago

Photo

Hello, hi, how are ya?

It’s been a hot minute but I took some time to collect myself and my muses. And last week I started updating my blog here and there to help more forward. If you had read my last update you know I’ve been going through a hard time mentally and in a creative funk. And sadly part of my own depression and sadness happens to be represented in my characters (especially on here). This is not to say I don’t enjoy writing my characters or anything like that. I just .. I need something a little bit more positive. I’m getting better -- it’s a slow and gradual change but it’s in process. To help that along, I’ve changed my blog’s theme (and not just the account’s theme page), moving towards a more positive outcome instead of the dark blue hues and what really represented the early stages of the rise after a fall.

As ironic as that is, I’m changing the look and overall feeling to something like a spring awakening. A potential to grow -- a yearning and taking steps to, yes, finding solace.

Yes, my characters are the same essentially. Except attitudes might change. Whether it’s Zi Tao actually doing something to find his purpose or Yugyeom writing his book -- you’re going to see my characters strive to do better.

What does that mean for you? Mostly nothing. It’s really an outlook change. The threads I currently have will stay but you might find them going into a different direction. Or at least a gradual change in my characters’ thoughts and actions.

I don’t know if this even makes much sense. It’s 3:18 AM but basically I want to write more happy / positive things. This doesn’t change my need for angst and drama though.:)

For the actual blog updates:

new theme !

updated navigation page !

new muses page !

new icon !

new graphics !

At this time, I will be putting Echo, Jongin & Yitian on hiatus. I haven’t talked to any rpers who have ships with these characters and that’s simply because I haven’t figured out what I want to do with them. Right now I’m experiencing loss of muse for these three and it’s because I haven’t ever played out their storyline. This is not to blame the rpers who are shipped with my characters! Echo and Jongin have no interactions outside their ships and therefore can’t gain much character development. Whereas Yitian has a few different interactions but nothing about his storyline is explored or even touched upon. I don’t even know at this point if I want to explore their storylines. Which is why I’m putting them on pause rather than trying to reach out for plots.

Revamping these characters are an option I’m not opposed to looking into. But of course if anything is decided I will message those involved to update them accordingly. I’m sorry if this hiatus for any of these three come as an inconvenience or hurt you in some way. :/ It’s not my intention. I just need to think about what I want to do with these characters moving forward and I can’t do that with replying to threads of theirs. The replies wouldn’t feel authentic and something worthy of you to receive and read. I hope you understand.

THAT being said, all of other characters are ready to be tortured adored by me again! I don’t want to make any promises on specific days I’m going to be working on replies but sometime this week I’ll be on, replying to the ask memes (FINALLY) and getting some LONG AWAITED starters! I am so sorry and I hope you want them still LOL

If you have read all of this -- wow, congratulations, man! you’re the best. you’re a survivor. I apologize for torturing you with all my nonsense strung together words that would normally be considered a ramble, appropriately happening at 330AM.

Love you bunches! Thank you for your constant patience with me and support. <3

#ooc ;; mun speaks for a hot sec

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 6 years ago

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When You Least Expect It: Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series.

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 3.5K

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Jensen was fucking cold.

He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.

They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.

“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.

Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”

She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”

“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”

Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.

“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”

“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.

“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”

“Is he a fisherman, too?”

“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Oh…”

“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”

“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”

“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”

Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.

Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.

Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.

You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.

Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”

A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”

“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”

It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.

Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.

“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”

“That’s you there?”

“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”

“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.

She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”

“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.

“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.

Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Not sick of me yet?”

“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”

“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.

He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.

Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.

“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”

“Joy to the World?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”

Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.

“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”

“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.

“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”

Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.

“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”

“The world,” Jensen finished for her.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”

“Did he ever have to sing it?”

She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”

For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.

“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”

Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.

Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.

He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.

She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.

“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.

“Won’t the neighbors complain?”

“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”

“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”

“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.

“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”

“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.

“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.

“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”

Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.

...if her heart is pounding, too

...if she dreamed the song, too

...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”

Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.

She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.

From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.

“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”

“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.

“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”

“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.

He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.

“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”

Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”

Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.

Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.

“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”

Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.

“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,

“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”

And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.

“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”

When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.

“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”

Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.

From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”

And just like that, he was smiling again.

Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)

Everything Tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby

SUPERNATURAL TAGS: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @wayward-gypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @flamencodiva // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @katehuntington // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278

Series Tags: @winchest09 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @aomi-nabi // @luciathewinchestergirl // @alexisxwinchester // @moonxdance // @seppys-return-to-madness // @donnaintx // @deans-baby-momma

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #Jensen ackles fan fiction

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gloomy-goober · 6 years ago

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Something New

Concept: The sides are created like any idea. Being born in the imagination and slowly developing. After the mishap with Anxiety, Roman is not determined to make sure that any new side is comfortable and well cared for

Pairings: Roceit (platonic/romantic still to be determined)

Typed on my phone. To be edited later

He opened his eyes and found himself sorrounded by darkness. Nothingness. His form rested on ground he could not see. Above him was more nothingness.

And then, there was light. Grass. Trees. A name.

Creativity

Roman sat on the ground outside his kingdom, on the very edge of the imagination. Waiting. Impaitently waiting.

Any second now the ideas would culminate. Any second now a new side would form.

Roman stood on his usual place as small meeting was conducted in Thomas’ living room.

Joan sat on the floor with a notebook in their lap. Thomas next to his friend. Logan was standing in his usual place watching.

“Sorry, got lost in a day dream. What was the question?”

“We were looking on your opinion on the introduction of a new side,” Logan stated, “Logically speaking, it is the appropriate next step after your last script implied there were others.”

Roman shuffled his feet where he was standing. He had gotten a little zealous in that declaration. Regreting it only slightly.

“Yes, well, I do not see why not.”

“Sweet,” Thomas grinned, “Can’t wait to meet them.”

“M-meet?”

“Yeah. Meet. I have no idea who else is living in my head, after all.”

Roman shuffled nervously, “Do you at least have an idea on...on what side you would like to introduce?”

“Do we have to be specific?”

“It would help with the, um, search.”

The two humans looked at the facet confused. Joan flipping through his notebook.

“I have a few ideas, but they aren’t completely fleshed out yet. Wasn’t sure if we could just make a character, ya know?”

“Excellent!” Roman grinned, “tell them to Thomas.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll hear. I’m going to start the quest.”

And with that, he sunk out.

It had been two days since that conversation. Two days since Joan and Thomas had started to bounce off each other on character ideas. Slowly making a character.

A new side.

Roman stood up as his musing were interrupted. The wind around him changing. The darkness that he had been staring at seemed to shift in a wave of colors.

Fear gripped the creative side’s heart as he faced this unknown threat. No sword in hand. No understanding on what was about to happen.

As suddenly as the change began it stopped. A form fell from the darkness and collapsed onto the grass. It was as dark as the void it had fallen from; wispy like smoke.

“Oh,” Roman’s defensive posture slowly eased as he moved towards this figure.

The figure did not seem to hear him. Slowly shifting it’s smoke like body to sit up on its legs. Looking at it’s arms. Two bright yellow orbs hung in the middle of the head shape. Eyes.

The form flexed it’s fingers. Watching as they separated from the black mist and then connected again and again. Innocently fascinated by the function.

“Hello?”

The form jumped and it’s head snapped to Roman’s direction. Eyes glowing bright.

Roman put his hands up with the palms facing out. “It is alright, I am here to help. I won’t hurt you.”

“My name is Roman,” he spoke slowly. Not moving forward, “I’m also known as creativity. You don’t know a lot about me or yourself, but, I want to help you. It’s scary, being out here all alone.”

The figure did not speak. Just watched him with the unnatural yellow eyes. The fact it was not running gave the prince some hope.

He slowly outstretched a hand.

“Will you let me help you?”

The cloud of smoke slowly shifted into a more steady from. Still black as night. Still unnerving with only bright yellow orbs for eyes.

But Roman did not flinch as one of those dark, smoke hands laid in his own. The cold touch mingled with his own warmth well. A smile spread on his face.

“Thank you.”

#a concept i was thinking about as i fell asleep #roman sanders #my writing #deceit sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders

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prodicalviews · 6 years ago

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About a year ago I started writing this fic I was pretty tipsy (maybe even drunk). I remember laughing my head off like I was funny lol.

Please don't take this seriously, I mixed my drinks that night I was a mess the next day.

Feel free to call this drabble what you want. In the meantime, I’ll be updating all the fics this week. (yes all)

power to fanfic writers, may the new year grant you creativity, no writer's block, and clear skin.

I never understood why the landlord never warned me whenever we had a new tenant. Specifically when there’s a vacancy next to me. It shouldn’t be hard, the guy lived two doors down from me. Though I wasn’t going to say anything to that big burly man.

Three. Three people in the last 5 months went through this apartment. And of course being the nice genuine person I am I’d give them a welcoming pan of cake or cookies. I’d also befriend them, despite my loner tendencies. It never hurts to have someone watch after your cat when you go on a shopping trip.

No thanks to Abe, also known as the landlord. I found out we were getting a new tenant from Carol. My other neighbor. Honestly, I understood why those girls moved out. One, these condos were expensive. Two, shopping sprees daddies money didn’t fully cover were more important than rent. Three, everyone living here was either, doctors, lawyers or some other hotshot. So holding a conversation without sounding like an idiot was damn near impossible. Unless of course, you were talking to an actor or my downstairs neighbor, Jessie. Bless her heart. I can’t count how much celebrity’s I’ve met just walking to the dumpster. Just taking out some trash the other day and hey would you look at that, Nicholas Cage. Well, most of them were old time celebs but they were still famous, right?

As I was saying, right when I got to know these girls well enough. They went and left me. I’d ask Carol to watch Mike but she’s allergic to cats. Morgan was always busy with his son. Glenn and Maggie, well they wouldn’t even bother feeding him. I’m pretty sure Daryl would just throw him in the trash. Negan would watch him, but of course, that came with a sizable price and Jessie? I’m positive she’d kill him by accident. Sasha watched him before but now she’s always missing since she became chief of staff at the hospital. Abe would just have him testing landmines in the desert during my absence.

I stared down at my furless cat. His big brown doe eyes called to me. Yes, he was ugly. Everyone made sure to tell me this. But I loved him. He’s my little muse. But a girl needed new underwear, shoes, and blouses. I don’t know how I managed to survive this long, I haven’t gone shopping in a year. A whole year. And if that meant sucking up to whoever was moving boxes of their shit into condo 7 then so be it.

It wasn’t long before Mike started mewling for his morning breakfast. His stretchy skin rubbed against my bare legs. His meows only seemed to get louder.

“Don’t worry Mike, momma’s going to get your kibbles. You want kibbles don’t ya?” He meowed in response. I was positive on some level Mike understood me. He’s been with me for eight years now. Through thick and thin he stuck by my side. He was two when I lost my job at Atlanta’s art gallery. I decided to take a leap of faith, the money I made from the paintings sold over the years was meeting its end. Mike and I were barely surviving, with my last bit of funds I made a tedious treacherous journey down to LA in my small KIA. It wasn’t long before I lost hope. Selling paintings on the roadside didn’t pay the bill for that trash motel we stayed at. Eventually, I took a job waiting at a restaurant. It was a sight to behold, I earned my degree in the Arts yet I was waiting tables for the hillbillies, hippies and con artist of LA.

But I didn’t give up. After getting the green light to display my paintings in front of the diner I worked for. Things started to look better for me. I sold a few pieces, enough for me to relocate to a different motel. One that was more inhabitable. Dale never asked for compensation if I sold an art piece. He was a genuine man that wanted the best for me, along with a few of the other waitresses that were trying to get through school. So when he told me about an inquiry on my pieces from a man in a not so modest suite I knew he wasn’t lying.

One can say I’ve made a name for myself, six years later I supplied work for some of the biggest Galleries in the city. And a year since I had a stable neighbor in Condo 7 after Noah died. He was a young up and coming actor with a boisterous personality and a genuine smile. After dying in a head-on collision we all mourned his death.

Pulling open one of my cupboard, I grabbed the bag of overly expensive catnip along with Mike’s bowl. He nudges my leg urging me to hurry and serve his food. I loved him to death but his attitude needed an adjustment.

Pouring food into his bowl and I watched as he made a dash for it. It evoked a chuckle from me. We were living well. I admit we gained weight, his pudgy stomach touched the wooden panels of the kitchen floor and those five-star dishes went straight to my hips. It was Saturday, which meant I was due a visit from Carol shortly. Yes, Mike gave her allergies but it never stopped her from urging me out of my shell. Art has always been my safe haven. A man-made solace of the sort. I’ve never been one for an abundance of company, which is why, as my work became more popular I sold anonymously. My first name, Michonne, was still attached to everything I’ve painted but no one actually knew how I looked or my gender. Unless you count the assholes back in Atlanta, but I haven’t heard any news of them releasing images of my face. After all, Michonne wasn’t a common name. Along with my longtime neighbors and the folks who bought my work in the early stages of my career my secret was safe.

As if on cue, Carol’s signature knock sounded against the door. I rolled my eyes at the clock hanging over my stove. Nine o’clock sharp as always.

I took my time answering the door, we always had the same conversation. Like clockwork, so I wasn’t in a rush. Releasing my locks and turning the doorknob I was greeted by a smiling face equipped with a pan of chocolate cookies. My mouth was watering, my weakness. I returned her smile and relieved her of the pastries.

“That thing hasn’t sat on the couch yet as he?” She asked a bit weary. For Carol’s sake and peace of mind, I was sure to spray the couch and keep Mike away from her designated spot. I waved her off removing the plastic covering her pastries.

“By thing I assume you mean Mike.”

“Oh yes, him.” I could hear the humor in her voice. I shook my head and started the coffee maker in the kitchen.

“I thought you’d want to reserve some treats to sway our new neighbor with.” Oh shit, I almost forgot about them. This was my secret, I gave them baked goods, that Carol herself baked. Normally she’d bring in anything left over from her bakery. But this was different, these were chocolate cookies.

“They’re not even moved in yet.” I mentioned from the kitchen.

“Oh sweetie, where have you been for the past seven hours?” I was sleeping no doubt. “Last I check they were just moving the last of their furniture.” Carol was a dear, out of all my neighbors, we exchanged the most words. I’ll even go as far as to say she’s my closest friend.

“I don’t need to schmooze the new neighbors this early, it’s only nine o’clock. I’ll let them settle in first.” After the coffee maker screamed in wake of its completion I grabbed two mugs. Mine and Carol’s permanent Saturday morning mugs. I know. She literally bought a mug for my place that she uses. I poured us coffee adding sugar. I walked in the living area balancing our coffee and a plate of cookies.

Uncrossing her legs she took her mug from my hand and watched as I sat down. I took a careful sip of my coffee, it was hot and the scent from the beans was strong as I inhaled, just how I liked it.

“You wouldn’t have to schmooze them if you’d just buy your clothes online. This is the 21st century after all.” She is 40. Exactly ten years my senior, so her words were more than ironic. It made me feel decades old.

“Carol we’ve been through this too many times. I prefer to buy items that are my size exactly.” I wasn’t lying when I mentioned that Mike and I gained weight. Living the good life put me up a cup size and made jeans stop to my thighs when I squeezed into them. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t working out. There was a gym downstairs I utilized constantly, but once my hips and breast got bigger they decided to stay that way, despite all my effort and time. “So I buy them in the flesh.”

She just waved me off. “You don’t need to take a flight to buy clothes, Michonne.” She was right, but it was one of the perks hard earned money bought you. I clucked my tongue to the roof of my mouth deciding to change the topic of conversation.

“So how is Ezekiel doing?” And just like that her blue eyes glazed over. For as long as I knew Carol, they’ve been together. I even gave him a few pointers on how to grow his locs. I was glad they stuck together so I could watch his locs flourish past his shoulders. I was also elated for Carol. Ezekiel was a B list actor, one of my favorite actors since he played Victor on ‘The Last Knights’. It was among many of my TV favorites. Technically they lived together, but during filming season he had to go to a different state but they kept in touch. As to why they’ve been together for years without getting married was beyond me.

“He’s doing just fine.” Her cheeks were tainted pink. She still swooned over him like a lovesick teen. I smiled at her. “Instead of diverting to the man in my life let’s talk about your love life.” She sported a devilish smirk behind her gray flower mug.

Somehow I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew I was attractive, in fact, most of the men I met found me alluring. But since no one ever saw me with a man publically they assumed I was a lesbian. Obviously, since I didn’t want the hassle and stress of a relationship I welcomed the notion. Even Carol seemed on the fence about my sexuality.

“It’s nonexistent. I don’t get out much to meet anyone, hence another reason I need this shopping trip.” I told her taking big bites out of the cookie.

“If you’d just go out with me and the others that would change.” Yes, the monthly ritual they established. Once a month everyone would get dressed and have dinner usually followed by the night ending at a posh club. On more than one occasion Negan asked me to come. He was handsome. I’d go as far to say he was sexy, with dimpled cheeks, a wide smile and a nice head of hair. But my goodness was he a player. My guess is that he was juggling about 5 different women right now. Most lawyers I’ve met had multiple women. Of course, that didn’t stop him from wanting me.

“I’m not one for outings with packed crowds,” I mentioned.

Carol shook her head. “I have a feeling your life will change, Michonne. And soon too.”

“Are you hanging out with Gabriel again? My life changed six years ago. And for the better too.” Gabriel was a pastor and Morgan’s brother. He always stopped by to use our gym and Abe allowed it. He was even gifted with an ID for the front gate last Christmas. At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if he moved into Morgan’s Condo.

As much as I complained about needing personal space, I loved everyone living here, in my own way. Jessie was questionable. I knew more about everyone’s personal life than they knew of mine. On occasions, I’d even give them advice and water their plants when I’m not working. I even parked bikes courtesy of Daryl Dixon. After Morgan’s nasty divorce I held down the fort and watched his son, Dwayne, when he was on call at the Hospital.

Of course, I was happy to do it. Dale’s good deeds rubbed off on me. Because of that, they’d help me in return. It wasn’t that no one wanted to watch Mike, they were eager to. But I couldn’t trust them to care for him, especially since they didn’t have the advantage of living next door to me. Where I held all of his emergency medicine. He had cancer, which explained why he was bald. Call me picky. I just prefer the person next to my condo to watch him if need be.

A loud horn blared from outside. My eyebrows furrowed silently questioning Carol. She shrugged and moved toward the window, I simply followed suit. There we were mugs still in hand peering through the open creases of my wooden blinds. I squinted trying to make out the face of a brunette.

“That must be her,” Carol whispered. “Wait I see a man in the car...” She paused. “He looks homeless.” I scowled in confusion. Abe always did background checks. He didn’t have connections to the military for nothing. I didn’t blame him for wanting to make sure people were able to pay their rent. Abe also offered a deal to share land, once you’ve paid a suitable size of money you were able to live in your condo without monthly rent. It was a choice he’d offer and it was cheaper in the long run. Of course, household bills still had to be paid. Some people like Daryl and Carol chose that from the start.

“Why are you whispering, it’s not like they’ll hear us through the window.”

“It’s more polite.”

“Like the action of peeping can be softened with whispering.” We both laughed before Carol shushed me. I caught a glimpse of the man, he was still inside the sleek black Porsche. He had quite the beard on him. He also wore a ratty baseball cap which probably caused him to be called homeless. It hid his face well so I couldn’t make out his features. The brunette went back to the window leaning in close to the bearded man. “Oh looks like they’re a couple.”

“What do you think they do?” I asked Carol still staring at the couple, mug in hand. I had no shame.

“I have no idea. But I’m guessing the woman’s a model. Though Abraham didn’t mention there would be two of them.” She did look like a model. Her silky hair reached past her shoulders, leading down to a trim tight body. Hopefully, she wasn’t another Jessie. Jessie did something to deserve my spite, she may not remember but I do. Oh, I remember very well.

The last person to move in was, in fact, Jessie Anderson, so in our defense, we did the same thing to Jessie when she moved in four years ago. Along with the three women who moved in over the last few months, if they counted. When Jessie modeled her way to her condo but couldn’t figure out how to open her own door. Bless her soul. We figured she had a sugar daddy or was a model. We were right on both counts.

“Oh goodness, we can’t have another Jessie.” Even Carol understood. After a moment the woman pulled away from the car and it drove off. She was heading this way. Shit!

We tried our best to scramble away from the window without spilling the remnants of our coffee. I switched on my TV opting to settle on a random station.

“You think she saw us?” She asked me.

“We’re inside unless she has a third all seen eye that’s impossible,” I told her taking in gulps of caffeine. I was quite sure we were in the clear so when a knock bounced off my door it caught me off guard. I spilled coffee on my capris night pants. A frustrated moan left my throat, these stains were hard to get rid of. I was forced to answer the door with a stain the size of a black hole on my white pants. I still had my locs gathered on top of my head, I decided against letting it down.

The door swung open and I was greeted by another smiling face for the second time this morning. It was the brunette. Up close she was actually quite stunning.

“Oh, I’m sorry I was actually looking for the landlord. I’m Lori by the way.’’ She stuck her hand out towards mine her nails gleamed with a clear coat of peach polish. I took her hand after a moment of silence.

“Michonne.” She was nice.

Her eyes lit up upon hearing my name. “You’re not Michonne the painter are you?” Her tone held curiosity.

“Umm, no. I’m not.” Although she seemed nice I didn’t know her. If the painting on my living room wall wasn’t any indication of who I was then she really didn’t need to know.

She rolled her eyes and dropped my hand. “Of course, she’d have enough money for better…uhh apparel maybe even a house.” Bitch! Her eyes darted to the stain on my pants. I wanted to scream ‘but bitch you’re living here too!’ I held my tongue. “How silly of me.”

“It was an honest mistake.” I had to suck up to this bitch? I think not. Funny how first impressions left a lasting mark. I’ll mourn the loss of new undergarments later. My only hope was that her boyfriend was nicer since her ring finger was bare.

Lori nodded lacing her hands together. “Like I said earlier, I was looking for the landlord.” Her tone was short all of a sudden like she didn’t want to stay by this door a minute longer. I pointed to the left.

“He’s two doors down. But if I were you I wouldn’t bother him this early on Saturday’s. If Sasha answers you’ll be in luck.” Abe didn’t have a knack for Saturday mornings, any time after eleven was better for him. I learned the hard way after the pipe in my bathroom burst. I ran to Abe banging on his door. By the time he answered, he was red-faced and shirtless. He fixed my plumbing problem but I was left with feeling that I interrupted something. He didn’t speak to me for a week.

Lori thanked me, clearly ignoring my warning and made her way to Abe’s door. I placed the locks back to their original position and turned to face Carol.

“Well isn’t she a dime.” Carol mentioned sarcastically. A dime indeed. I rubbed the stain on my pants although it didn’t do anything to fade it.

“Now I’m hoping she does catch Abe at a bad time.”

“Just take my advice Michonne, order clothes and have it delivered here. It’s what I always do.” We were back to that conversation again. We passed the time sitting together discussing neighborhood changes, our TV shows and of course neighborly gossip.

“Have you noticed that Maggie gained some weight?” Only Carol would notice these small things.

“So? I’ve gained weight.”

Carol shook her head, exasperated with my line of thinking. “Michonne, you weren’t having sex nonstop for the past two months.” I was a tiny bit offended. In fact I hadn’t had any sexual exploits since leaving Atlanta. That was years ago.

“How would you know this? You don’t even live next to them to hear anything.” She scoffed at me.

“I’ve seen enough displays of affection between them to light up a cow.” Maggie and Glenn had been married when I met them. They actually gave me hope that there was a forever. They always said they’d wait to have kids, both being in the drug research field. They wanted to focus on their careers before adding a little addition to the family.

“So you think she’s pregnant?” I bit into my cookie.

“I know.” Her eyes twinkled.

The infamous horn made its appearance again, prompting Carol and I back into peeping. Lori had a scowl on her face as she made her way to the sleek car.

“You think Abraham made her angry?” I questioned though I could care less.

“Oh, I’m sure they exchanged some words. Or her boyfriend said something to upset her.” She added when the heavily tinted window on the Porsche didn’t roll down. Carol was onto something there. Lori marched to the vehicle and tapped the glass. The door to the car opened revealing a strong arm that held it. Lori stepped in the open space successfully blocking our view. The suspense was killing me.

“I need to get a good look at the man, can she just move.” I felt the same way as Carol. This Saturday was more entertaining than just chatting about the mystery around Daryl. Except there wasn’t a mystery surrounding him, he was just a mechanic that owned a bike store. The vibe he had was mysterious though.

Lori moved and he was just about to exit the car when my landline rung off. What are the chances? I huffed and told Carol to give me a play by play. I dashed for the phone, promising myself to invest in something cordless.

Caller ID: Simon

I groaned knowing exactly what this call was about. I clicked call and greeted him sweetly. “Good morning, Simon. How are you?”

“Something tells me you’re not working on your piece since you answered this phone so quickly.” He knew me so well. Simon was the one who picked up my art and delivered them to galleries amongst other people. Technically he worked for me. It was rare for me to do my work on site. That usually required complete discretion and a sizable check.

Carol waved her arms around drawing in my attention. “Good lord Michonne, he isn’t homeless!”

I tried to split my attention between both Carol and Simon but it didn’t work for me. So I focused on Simon.

“When creativity hits me I’ll be sure to text you, Simon.” Whenever I lost momentum Simon always reminded me that I was working on a time frame.

“Be sure to. I forgot to mention the last time I made a pick up some guy name Gregory phoned me. He seemed adamant on talking to you. Said it was urgent. He sounded crazy so I shrugged it off.” The only Gregory that rung any alarms was the ‘Atlanta Gallery’ owner who fired me with little to no remorse. Last I heard business for him went down the drain.

“Thanks, Simon, if he calls you again let me know.”

“Sure thing.” I hung up and made my way back to Carol who was no longer peeping out the window. Disappointment filled me.

“I thought you were going to give me a play by play. Did they leave?” I checked outside the window again noticing the black car was absent. Just my luck.

“I did but you were in the deep end of your conversation on the phone.” She gazed at me expectantly.

Sighing I told her “Simon was just talking about my old boss calling him, said he sounded crazy.”

“Simon himself looks crazy.”

“In an artistic way Carol.” I defended him.

The thoughts in her head were clear on her face. It didn’t make any difference what I said. Anyone with messy hair and an array of paint covering them looked crazy unless it was me of course.

Mike made his grand entrance, he waltzes in and rubbed himself against my leg. Carol coughed beside me putting space between us.

“That’s my cue to leave, be sure to leave some cookies for the new neighbors.” It wasn’t as if I was going to devour the entire pan of cookies. After closing the door behind Carol I pulled my silk night top tighter around my body.

My place was vibrant due to some of my work being hung on its white walls. When I first moved in I wanted something modern. I also wanted parts to remain a canvas for my doings. I actually came across this place by accident. It had security and it was discreet. There was a twenty-minute drive before you came across another building. In total there were nine occupants in the building. Morgan, Daryl, Jessie, Glenn, and Maggie along with Negan lived on the lower level. Abe and Sasha, Carol, myself along with the new couple lived on the second floor. Despite the number of occupants, my place was a spacious two bedroom two bath. I used the extra room for my work. I was still on edge about moving in here permanently, Atlanta taught me nothing good last forever. Sighing, I turned on my speakers and headed for my safe haven. I worked until nightfall.

#i live for the applause #applause applause #i'm bumping right now #i really am not funny #cries #richonne fanfiction #richonne #richonne fic #there is actually more than one chapter #i was on a damn roll that night #TBC

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