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#AND THEY BUTCHERED SO MANY FACES... EVERYONE WAS SO FUCKING UGLY

the-acid-pear · 3 years

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I just can't get enough it seems, time to start the next Baki the Grappler book!

It seems that this one will take on the saga i saw on the anime (at least by the end) so that's exciting

Chapter 1

First off quality is SHIT lmao

Yesss i remember this. I still think that shit about everyone trembling is a lil... Mmmm bullshit.

Baki be like <:] but in a smug way

Look at Tokugawa my man

OH RIGHT HE LEFT THE TOURNAMENT WITH A CAST

This feels so random

Oh right the synchronicity shit

Baki is so -_- in this manga

Look at the old timer go

YEAH FR TOKUGAWA JUST BROUGHT EXPLOSIVES TO A SCHOOL FULL OF CHILDREN TO MAKE A SHITTY ANALOGY SHSHWKWGGE FREAK OLD MAN

Chapter 2

Ahegao

Epic grandpa

HO NICE

Mf really swam thru the Pacific ocean

Chapter 3

Huh i thought he was Scottish

This random guy was pretty interesting looking, the one executing Doyle

Fucked up shit how they still do this stuff

King, i can somehow still remember his voice in particular fsr

Also since no one reads this i will say it: Doyle does NOT look white ahagdbafhsdbc

I like that he didn't bother killing the doctor

Is that Strydum? 🥺👉👈

Chapter 4

Shagddjd i was going to say that, this dude could have easily taken a different path from violence

GAARN? MY MAN? MY BELOVED GARLAND? IS HE ALIVE STILL?!

FFS NOT FOR LONG HHH LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOY...

I mean it's fair, Sirkosky uses weapons, but man, Garland... :'/

This all hits so different once you know the characters :]]]

Chapter 5

That pic is still so brutal

What an absolute troll shsshwgxgd

Also fun fact when i watched the anime i didn't pay much attention at first so I assumed the Russian was Spec (i didn't even know Sirkosky's name)

I love how that was unnecessary shagdhsr

ADAGDFAGAFAD this guy was also great

Spec was fucking insane man aggsggahsfg

I love he's full of tattoos

The absolutely king

OH RIGHT Spec is sus *laugh track*

Chapter 6

Oh hell yeah, grandpa's ex

Baki tf you doing there in the cover you madlad

...bottom storage.

THEY ARE SO MEAN LEAVE HIS SHORT ASS ALONE SHSGJSGS

He's my size btw

Was there a motive for him to be naked or was he just a freak btw?

I love the shape of his eyes ngl

I love how scared the guards are while he just calmly rambles

I don't wanna call yanagi my grandpa because i think yanagi can get it and it would be like calling him daddy but the Gilf™ is Dorian man life is so hard when you are me

I love Yanagi's face lol he's handsome

Chapter 7

Poor Baki lmao he just got better from the maximum tournament and now this

Lmao Baki has a point

Unnecessary, Doyle

Chapter 8

I love how they were recruiting dangerous mfs to beat up this random guy bc his vibes are fucked up

This guy looked a lot like jack

You gotta be brave to shove a knife that sharp into your pants

I love how Baki literally did nothing to em

Baki's face just looks wrong this isn't my beloved child

Imagine you are about to fight this mf and he just shoves his hand inside his pants

Chapter 9

This dude really looks like, fully japanese jack hanma

JWGWKEGWKSGE I LOVE HIM

I love how Spec just showed up dressed up as a fucking monk or something

Chapter 10

You guys know, Dorian reminds me of my now dead great grandfather, with the moustache look even more.

Not impressed, 15 yo Hanayama did the same when throwing a tantrum

He's so insane i luv him

Okay but look at the cut of that outfit look at how well it hugs his chest and waist but flows bellow... Spec my dude you could have been a mad good model 😐 he's even giving me gender envy! 🥺

I love how Baki used both his hands for the handshake

Chapter 11

Ho, speak of the devil, i was just talking of this fucker with Blood

Mf got so old

I like how there was no motive for him to be naked he literally is just Like That

Also it's from here that he got that wasp waist lmao

Mf just flexing at this point lmao

GRANDPA!! <3

Yanagi got cake

That's so unnecessary rude, obsessed. Also, as if you weren't old Yanagi. I see why they broke up now ;/

Chapter 12

11 and 12 are the same fsr

Chapter 13

I honestly wonder where these prisoners got their clothes, like, aside from Doyle that one time everyone else is never shown shopping or even owning money

Also i love the fact that on a daily basis i dress the same as Spec, that definitely says something bout me jagsjsgwhwfwg 😭

To be honest, considering the size of Spec's body, they should definitely feed him more

He didn't wash his hands 😢

Dick and balls too strong ajgshsgsg

I love how fucking, polite he is.

Oh i see, i thought he might have stolen a wallet or something but nah

Btw i genuinely don't remember shit JAGSKSGWJGS even if it watched the anime i forgot most of this

Chapter 14

GOD the way the anime butchered Katsumi, he's so handsome in the manga in comparison 😐

Also i like how they aren't explaining this like, Katsumi was the one who lost, did he wait until Retsu was okay to fight again in HIS ("") dojo?!

RETSU STOP DOING THESE SORT OF TRICKS THAT'S PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE AJDGSJSG

HE'S JUST BUILT DIFFERENT

Okay he actually explained, oddly nice of Retsu to accept tho

Hoho this scene hits different now that i know and like Katsumi

Also I'm not even gonna question where Doppo is, dude is never just around skdgksgd

Chapter 15

I love this genre of cover

WHITE BOY SJDGSJGSHS-

I love that retsu is just watching, he's still an asshole QJGSJSGWH

If i didn't know Katsumi I would say he died

I did actually think he had died when watching the anime

Retsu still has his thicc ass i see

Chapter 16

See all this makes sense now that i know retsu and the shit he has seen and been thru!

Angry lad, lucky his hair didn't burn

I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE HE EXTINGUISHED THE FIRE WITH HIS SCREAM

Chapter 17

Ahegao in the cover

I'm looking at the pages and I'm obsessed with Doppo being described as a "bold, badass karate master", it's so accurate <3

Also Igari being called eccentric, and the mention he defeated Mount Toba!! <3

Baki is slowly looking more like Baki

"my mother is dying"

Tasks keep failing successfully

Chapter 18

mAh boy...

That happens and it's the worst

Musashi you good boy 🥺

Chapter 19

Igari <33

That's insane

Chapter 20

I love that Igari looks legitimately worried and sad, not sweating tho

I love how he didn't have any serious damage until the punches like, okay.

Poor Igari tho

DID HE CHEW EM OFF OR SOMETHING? SHSHWGEGCH

Was anybody going to tell me is Sikorsky and not Sirkosky?

Also i love how legitimately scared Tokugawa is, probably more than when Yujiro picked him up

Chapter 21

The heights are so off in this saga

Oh my fucking god i didn't know Spec was 221

Either heights are all over the place or Yanagi is not 160

Either way HOW CAN YOU BE THAT SMALL? 🤣

GAFSFWEAD Tokugawa like "i own this place 😐"

Doyle is still the most decent one of the bunch

URSURSUTSUSTSRU

LOOK AT YANAGI DORIAN AND SIKORSKY ALREADY GETTING THEIR HANDS READY SBDGSHW

I googled how big Andreas from the tournament was and like, 2.40 😦

LET'S GOOOOO EVEN WITH A BEARD OMFG 😳😳😳

I see Hanayama descended into alcoholism after losing in the tournament. Also tf is with that bag? Was he hiking or something?

Jsgsjsgd Shibukawa is so excited too

I think this is chronically the first time Doppo appears with fully casual clothes, usually he either was in a suit or in his karate uniform

I'm straight up simping to the public now sgsjsgwhw

Chapter 22

LOOK AT THESE DUDES..... 💞

FUCK I WAS GONNA SAY THERE WERE MORE BAD THAN GOOD GUYS THEN LOOKED DOWN AND REALIZED THAT NO, SHIBUKAWA WAS JUST NEARLY OUT OF FRAME 😭

They all look so upset about that information

SIKORSKY NAME GOT SPELLED AS SILCOSKI...

Looking at them drives me insane i developed such a bond with all these fighters

I haven't seen Doppo this excited since last time his wife showed up

BAKI SWEARING?! 😰

How did Tokugawa grab Baki's shoulder?

ALSO WHY TF IS BAKI SO SURPRISED AS IF HE DIDNT GO AROUND BEATING UP PEOPLE WHEN HE WAS 13...

Don't worry Baki y'all will, Tokyo is not that big it seems

Shibukawa swearing 😨

"Imagine being mid but and Spec pulls up on you" "imagine having sex and she takes the mask and it's fucking Spec"

To be fair i would fuck a 2.21 muscular lady without going "hmmm this doesn't seem like a good idea..." in any moment

Chapter 23

I love how Dorian is just looking up

ACTUALLY ALL THEIR STANCES, Yanagi making dead eye contact with Gouki, Sikorsky with a firm pose just as Hanayama, Doyle with hiss chest up but eyes down giving a sense of pride, and, well, then there's Spec being Spec.

I like seeing Sikorsky having fun

I love Spec he played so smart SGSGSGS

😳 love wins!

Oh i had already forgotten about the dojo

Old man Dorian just has that effect on people

Threesome i see /j

He really was just fucking hiking i would love if they ever explained that ough 🥺

Did his facial hair just disappear?? STSGSFSD

BWHEKEGWJG THEY REALLY JUST FORGOT TO ADD IT FOR ONE PANEL IM OBSESSED

Such a good kick tho

The relationship these men can have is so oddly nice like not Doppo and Retsu specifically but all of the fighters in general. Like many of them barely know each other, but they all know their fighting styles and respect each other, plus have no reason to be in bad terms with one another and specially not now that they are all fighting for the same cause. It's just so nice to see em idk JAGSHS

Hey Igari.

Chapter 24

Thank God Doppo went <3 again it had been so long

Babe are you okay? You hadn't put a lil heart in your speech bubble for a while...

King really punched the fire

I will chose to believe that's true bc it's impressive 😍

You know it's funny like, Katsumi is mad good but he doesn't has as much experience as his dad and that leaves him in disvantage

Hehe i remember that guy

The manga is so much better than the anime ffs

I love that he didn't even realize

Chapter 25

Manga i don't think that's science

Also Baki just chilling with some doves lmao

I'm looking thru old messages see how my og reaction to this was

Huh i found nothing, that's odd. Well my reaction would have probably been like NOOOOO anyway so, y'all can imagine it

You left my dilf handless you fucking asshole good thing he has a wife

Imagine this dude cuts your hand and then just flexes his knowledge about science or whatever

HSSGGSFS THEY FIXED THE NO BEARD ERROR

Illiterate king <3

A guy did this to me once btw!!! Obviously in way smaller scale but he just touched something and the bleeding soon stopped!!!!

Honestly that's the most huge dick energy thing Doppo has ever done

Pfff I'm starting to remember why i liked Doppo so much 🥴

Bitches confused over him running away, tf was he supposed to do? He played it smart since there are no rules

Though yeah an eye and NOW a hand, insane

Chapter 26

Sjshhdhsn tanuki?

Oh, fox, he was calling him slick

Manga is pretty faster than the anime

Chapter 27

Where's your honor, Igari...

He is right sadly enough 😔

Oh i keep forgetting Igari's nature, he was probably trying to pull his silly little tricks again

This is just brutal honestly

Hehe this time i didn't get scared ☺️

I like that at least I'm not the only one who needs their mind off the gutter

Chapter 28

Love seeing em datin <3

He's so aggressive accidentally i love these dorks sm 😍🥺💞

SPEC FFS SJGDHWGW

Chapter 29

SPEC FOR FUCKS SAKE SJSVSJWGSH

Hanayama is such a real bro man

I LOVE THAT HE WAS JUST STALKING BAKI TOO BTW SJDGJDGDHSBDGDGS

To think i will still love hanayama but for entirely different reasons 😌

Chapter 30

Kaoru looks different but idk how

What the fuck is Spec even saying?

The fact that that makes no sense, i still love it a lot tho.

ALSO I ADORE HOW QUIET HANAYAMA IS WHEN FIGHTING

Okay Spec really has a point it really is beautiful

GOD I'M STARTING TO UNDERSTAND THESE CHARACTERS TOO MUCH I NEED HELP AJDGSJSGSHS 😭

But it's beautiful in the sense like, look how built he is! Look at all those scars!!! It IS beautiful it's a masterpiece!!!!!!!

"i choose to believe this is how hanayama always undresses" KSHSKDGSJ THE AMOUNT OF SUITS THIS MAN DESTROYS.. OBSESSED

Though yeah Hanayama in general is also beautiful isn't he?

Chapter 31

I would sob man look at him. Look at Shiba.

NO ONE RISKS HIS LIFE MORE THAN SHIBA YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE I STILL HOLD A LOT OF RESPECT FOR HIM!

A BENCH...

I really don't get why he's letting himself get hit, is he just flexing?

I cannot way to see him do his Technique ™

Chapter 32

Manga is so much superior to the anime, like, i haven't complained about Spec even once bc he isn't annoying anyone, in the anime he was so infuriating!!

I love when they just steal their standing poses sjsgjssgsh

That distortion effect so good

Chapter 33

I still think it's weird they used humans and not machines, though it was effective

I love how Spec managed to punch that statue without calling the attention of much people that's impressive

And i love that he keeps saying man he sounds like me with bro

Hanayama my beloved

Chapter 34

Yeah I'm not reading all that 😐

Oh this explains the holes in his clothes

#luly talks #btg #having a shitton of fun #the anime is NOTHING compared to the manga #the only good thing about the anime is the voice acting which is just on point #but everything else SUCKS man #they made me hate my man Spec and now im seeing he wasnt as nearly as annoying as in the anime #AND THEY BUTCHERED SO MANY FACES... EVERYONE WAS SO FUCKING UGLY #HANAYAMA... KATSUMI... EVEN BAKI WAS MAD UGLY 😭😭#but everything is better now ☺️#also i hit the limit of letters again 🥴#baki liveblog

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

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Always You | JJK (Eight-Part 1)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 11.5k (part 1)

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (!!!), mentions of sex, oc struggles with her future, mentions of vibrator, mentions of cum eating, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), masturbation, swallowing

Notes: I am having to post this chapter in two parts, I am so sorry about that! But here it is!! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter:) feel free to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:) I LOVE talking with ya’ll!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @aclowe13 @bishuthot @271101 @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch @not-your-lion @flowersgirl02 @justinetingball @fiantomartell @fairysunooo @taebae19

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous ---- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September

“What about this one?” You hold up another birthday banner, showing Vanessa yet another option.

“Ugly.” She says.

This is the fourth fucking birthday banner you’ve shown her and she doesn’t approve of any of them. But you have to admit this one is a little ugly.

“Vanessa…” you groan out, getting very obviously frustrated.

“I like this one.” She points to a banner. The very first one you showed her.

“Seriously?” you grab the banner and place it in your cart. “Okay, we still have to pick up the cake at 3. And we need to make sure we have enough plates for everyone…oh! We also still have to pick up the bottles at the liquor store.”

“I can get the cake.” She replies smoothly.

“We can just go together?”

Today is Jungkook’s birthday and you and Vanessa have been (Kind of) texting throughout the last week trying to find a good day to meet up. The day happened to be today of all days, so you’re feeling quite rushed.

“Fine.” Vanessa picks at her cuticles, just standing here looking gorgeous.

You on the other hand…were not expecting this to be a fashion show! You’re in shorts and a t shirt while she wears a flowy green dress and sandals.

“I want to be the one to present his cake to him though,” Vanessa begins, her eyes never leaving her fingers, “I am his girlfriend after all.”

You hate that your chest tightens at her words, you hate how her words affect you like this, how she affects you like this. Just being in her presence alone makes your heart twist.

“Got it.” You place some birthday plates in the cart, “So…what did you get him for his birthday?” you try to make conversation.

“A cologne.”

“You know he’s sensitive to smells—”

“He likes this one.”

“Oh.”

“I know him better than you think y/n.” her smooth voice cuts you like a butcher knife.

You nod your head, not knowing what to say. Maybe she does. But like, you still know him better right? You got to, right?

“What about you?” Vanessa lifts her eyes to meet yours, her eyes are small and dark and inviting.

“Uh, to be honest…I’m meeting with Jimin after this so we can go shopping for his gifts. So, I don’t know yet but I have an idea.”

“And what’s your idea?” her eyes go back down to her nails that she keeps picking at.

“Friendship bracelets.” You state.

“Hm.” Vanessa pushes the cart forward and walks towards the isle with candles. “We still need nice candles for the cake.”

“Right.”

~~~~~~~

“It couldn’t have been that bad, babe.” Jimin holds up a plain black hoodie and nods approvingly. “Another one for his collection, what do you think?”

“Looks like something I’d steal, so yes.” You give him a quick thumbs up, “And it was bad dude. She’s so hard to talk to!”

“Yeah, I could see that.” Jimin stands in front of a full body length mirror and checks himself out, pushing his hair out of his face. “Forehead or no forehead, tonight?”

“Hmm, no forehead.”

“Forehead it is.”

“Wow, you never listen to me!”

Jimin chuckles wholeheartedly, shrugging his shoulders like he agrees with you.

“So, where are these bracelets you keep going on about?”

“That one weird shop buy the smoothie place has these cute bracelets with letters for names on them! I was thinking I could get him a black one with my initial on it and I would get myself one with his initial.”

“You guys are so…that’s cute I guess.” Jimin giggles, he holds up his wrist as if imagining himself with the bracelet. “I want one too!” he whines.

“Maybe for your birthday.” You wink. “Anyway, do you think Vanessa knows Jungkook better than me?”

Jimin stops walking to get a look at you, an expressions that reads: Are you serious? Plastered on his face.

“It’s a valid question.” You say.

“No one knows Jungkook like you honey.”

“Okay…Also, you’ll be meeting my friend Yoongi tonight!”

“The not date, date guy?” Jimin pouts, “I thought you weren’t going to lead him on…”

You scrunch up your face in confusion,

“I can have friends Jimin, I’m not leading him on!” you try to defend.

“If you say so. Just like, try to focus on one boy at a time, you know?” Jimin teases.

You two walk to the shop that sells the bracelets and go inside. You find the bracelets you’re looking for rather quickly, feeling nice and lucky. You grab them and go to pay, when you finish up at the register you notice a Jack Skellington key chain and add it on to Jungkook’s gifts. You always have trouble finding good gifts for people, okay? You take what you can get.

“Shit, it’s already 6. I still need to go home and get ready!”

~~~~~

Nick lets you and Vanessa use their place as the spot to celebrate, it’s bigger than your place and Vanessa agrees saying it’s bigger than hers as well. Nick and his bro that believes in aliens (You really got to learn his name but at this point you are too afraid to ask) are the only ones here as you and Vanessa set up.

“Bro AI is out to get us man—” Aaanndd you are tuning him out, you watch as Nick listens closely, nodding his head every few minutes and whispering ‘Bro’. You and Vanessa hang up decorations in silence, the sound of Nick and his bro chatting away filling the room.

“People should start arriving soon…” you try to make small talk with Vanessa, she only hums in response not even sparing you a glance.

“You look nice.” You try giving her a compliment, she turns her head to the side to look at you and a sly smile grows on her face.

“Do you have feelings for Jungkook?”

You immediately choke on your fucking spit, what the actual fuck? You try to compose yourself when you hear the front door opening. Thank God.

“It is I!” You know that voice. “Where is my Jungkookie?” You hear Jin entering the living room along with Namjoon and Hobi.

“Jimin should be bringing him in the next 30 or so minutes!” you yell out. Once Jin and the other two boys spot you they light up.

“y/n!!!” Jin hurries to your side and bring you in for a quick hug. “How are you?!”

“Good, good.” You laugh, hugging him back.

“Good to see you y/n” Namjoon says with a soft smile and then you hear your named being shouted even though Hobi is a foot away from you.

“Long time no see!!!” He hugs you, shaking you around in his embrace. You can’t help but chuckle at your friend.

“Hi guys, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Would we miss our Jungkookie’s birthday? No way.” Jin says.

“Oh,” you turn around to see Vanessa just standing behind you, not saying anything just staring. “This is Vanessa. Jungkook’s—”

“We know!” Hobi says, “Jungkook has brought her to Jin’s. Nice to see you again Vanessa!”

Vanessa tilts her head and nods, her lips not even attempting to curve into a smile.

“You too.” She finally says.

This girl either has no manners or just does not know how to properly socialize? Maybe she gets anxiety being around too many people?

You feel your phone buzz.

Yoongs 7:14pm

Im outside

“Be right back guys, a friend of mine just got here.” You try talking over your group of friends. You head towards the front door, swinging it open to a Min Yoongi waiting patiently.

He smiles at you when he sees you, he holds up a bottle of wine and shakes it around a bit.

“For the party.” He says.

“Perfect, let’s pour us a glass right now!” you gesture him to enter the apartment.

You two walk into the kitchen, and you start searching for a wine bottle opener but can’t seem to find it.

“Hey Nick!” You yell out, hoping to get his attention, “Where’s the wine opener?”

Nick shuffles into the kitchen and gives you an expression that screams he has no idea.

“I know where it’s at.” Vanessa’s silky voice fills your ears as she enters the kitchen.

“Oh.” Of course she does. Why wouldn’t Vanessa know? She probably comes here more than you do…

“Thanks.” You finally say when she hands you the wine opener.

“Well, let’s open this baby up!” you turn to face Yoongi and he smiles at you.

“Hi Vanessa.” Yoongi waves at the girl and she hums in response, walking out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, she’s…” but you don’t know what to say. Also, why are you trying to excuse her?

You pour you and Yoongi a glass and gulp it down quickly, you finish your first glass in just seconds.

“I need another one.”

“What’s got you so stressed in a time of celebration?” Yoongi casually sips on his wine, one baby sip after the other.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“y/n…” his soft tone makes you feel comforted already and he hasn’t even said anything yet.

“I don’t know how to say it without sounding psychotic.” You admit, pouring yourself your second glass of wine.

“Try me.”

“I feel like I am competing…with…”

“With Vanessa?” He gladly finishes for you.

“Yeah, like…I don’t know, I feel like she’s trying to take my place. But my place isn’t ‘girlfriend’ so I don’t know what I’m freaking out about.”

Yoongi sets his glass down and studies you for a moment, you begin to feel antsy under his gaze.

“I’m obviously on your side,” Yoongi begins in a hushed voice, “But maybe she’s worried too?”

“I wish I knew if she felt worried, or felt like, anything. This girl is hard to crack!” you quietly say.

“Just try to enjoy the night, okay?” Yoongi smiles and you don’t even feel like smiling back but you do. Suddenly, you feel your phone going off.

Jungkook 7:32pm

Why is Jimin making me dress up? I thought it was just a couple of us? Why do I need to look nice, I’m tired from work

Jungkook 7:33pm

Seriously y/n…it’s just a couple of us, right?

y/n 7:35pm

omg yes Jungkook it’s nothing big I swear, he just wants you to look nice for pictures

Jungkook 7:36pm

I always look nice for pics lol

y/n 7:38pm

No comment

Jungkook 7:40pm

Don’t be fukin rude

` y/n 7:40pm

Can you guys hurry up?

Jungkook 7:44pm

Jimin is in the mirror deciding if he’s showing his forehead or not

y/n 7:45pm

classic Jimin

Jungkook 7:45pm

Classic Jimin

You stuff your phone in your back pocket and grab your glass of wine and begin sipping on it again. Yoongi eyes you up and smirks.

“That the birthday boy?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry…yes. He and Jimin should be here soon.” You watch as Yoongi nods his head and then you realize…”Oh my god, let me introduce you to the guys!” you set your glass down on the counter and reach for Yoongi’s hand and pull him towards the living room. Unfortunately for you, you miss the way Yoongi blushes at the contact.

“Guys, guys.” You interrupt the boys from their conversations, “This is my friend Yoongi…” you gesture towards the boy, “Yoongi, this is Jin…Namjoon, Hobi, and Nick and his pal, uh…” you blink at Alien Dude and he just grins at you, not realizing you don’t know his fucking name. “Yeah, anyway.” You decide to move on, “Jungkook and Jimin should be here soon—” Suddenly, there is soft knocking on the door. You raise a brow because who else could it be?

You walk towards the front door and look through the peep hole and much to your surprise you see Holly and Trina waiting outside the door. You’re quick to open it with a wide smile on your face.

“I thought you didn’t want to come?” You ask, your question directed towards Trina.

“I…” her eyes slide to Holly, “…Had a change of heart.” She huffs out quietly.

“You’re going to be civil?” you smirk at your friend and she rolls her eyes at you.

“She’s going to be more than civil.” Holly pipes up, “She’s going to be nice.”

“Hey we never agreed to that!” Trina crosses her arms over her chest, “But whatever.”

“Thanks for coming T.” your smirk transitions into a soft smile. This means a lot to you, that Trina is trying to accept Jungkook.

“Well? Are you going to let us in or what?”

“Right, right.” You move to the side and let the girls through. They step inside and make their way towards the boys.

“Oh? You must be Mister Oatmeal Raisin!” Trina grins towards Yoongi, who stands here chatting with Hobi.

“You’re…let me guess, Trina? And you must be Holly?” he nods at both girls, “I’ve heard a lot about you two.”

“I hope good things?” Trina teases.

“Only the best.” Yoongi raises his glass to her and she turns her head to smirk at you.

You watch as everyone gets along, talking, laughing and having a good time—all except Vanessa. She is sitting on the sofa on her phone, tapping away. She doesn’t even try to converse with any of Jungkook’s friends? Strange. You hate her, technically. But you can’t help but feel bad? Like, why does she isolate herself so much? Does she really just have some social anxiety or something? There’s got to be a reason for her odd behavior.

“Hey.” You say, sitting on the sofa next to her. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Vanessa doesn’t look up from her phone as she barely acknowledges you.

“Why don’t you come hang out with the rest of us?”

Vanessa tilts her head to get a look at you and she blinks at you repeatedly.

“Why?” she finally asks. “I’m only here for Jungkook.”

Okay, ouch.

“Oh...well—”

“You never answered my question from earlier,” Vanessas coy smile begins growing on her face. “How you feel about Jungkook.”

You feel your palms get sweaty when you process her words. How the hell do you respond to that?

“I—I…” Then the front door is opening and you hear Jimin obnoxiously announce their arrival, that he has the birthday boy.

You immediately jump to your feet and rush towards the entrance of the apartment to greet your friends.

“Too bad you can’t admit it, “ Vanessa whispers, her eyes going back to her phone, “I could help you too.”

“JUNGKOOKIE!!!” Jin opens his arms wide, “Come and embrace me! It’s your birthday gift.” Jungkook stumbles in the apartment with wide eyes as he searches the living room. His eyes find yours and he smiles. He shows you his bunny grin and you can’t help but smile back. He looks breathtaking, Jimin didn’t play around picking Jungkook’s outfit. Ripped black jeans, chunky boots, a plaid shirt with a leather jacket—he looks hot as hell. Vanessa is a lucky girl, you think bitterly to yourself.

Jungkook greets his friends one by one until he sees Yoongi walk from the kitchen into the living room. Yoongi has refilled his wine glass and stops just in front of Jungkook and bows his head in greeting. You rush to the two boys, joining them in this awkward encounter.

“Oh, I invited Yoongi.” You begin to explain, “You remember Yoongi, right?” you ask Jungkook.

“Of course…” Jungkook tries smiling but it’s tense and strained. At this, Yoongi smirks.

Yoongi steps closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder and he smiles at Jungkook.

“I’m y/n’s plus one tonight—or I guess her…date?”

“D-Date?” You and Jungkook both stutter out.

Yoongi brings you in closer, nice and snug against his shoulder as he chuckles.

“Something like that.”

Jungkook tries releasing a breath but finds it to be troublesome. He looks at you with an expression you cannot really decipher, but he doesn’t look all too pleased.

“That’s nice.” He finally says, scratching the back of his neck.

“What’s nice?” It’s a smooth and silky voice. Vanessa. “Happy birthday babe.” She joins your circle next to Jungkook and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Right…” you butt in, “Happy birthday Jungkook.” You smile, still in Yoongi’s arms.

“What do you want to do first?” Vanessa links arms with Jungkook and you feel your body go tense. You don’t want her to touch him.

“Eat.” Jungkook laughs, “I’m so hungry.”

“Well, we have pizza for everyone.” You say loudly, getting the rest of everyone’s attention.

“You say pizza? Hell yeah.” Trina walks towards you four with Holly following behind her.

“Oh hey Trina…” Jungkook says, not entirely too sure how to talk to the girl that hates him.

“Hey Jungkook,” she says quickly with a smile, “So where’s the pizza?”

Jungkook and you share a look of pleasant surprise. Trina? Being nice?

The rest of the boys follow and you all head inside the kitchen to snag a few slices of pizza from the pizzeria that Jungkook is fond of. Vanessa stays close to Jungkook’s side, not that you are surprised. But what is surprising you is that Yoongi has suddenly become slightly more affectionate with you?

Yoongi takes any chance he can get to touch you in some way, whether it be picking a piece of thread off your shirt, or placing a wild strand of hair behind your ear. He doesn’t really strike you as the type to be so openly affectionate…at least not the one to initiate it.

But can picking a piece of thread off your shirt really be counted as affectionate? Maybe he’s just trying to help. What you don’t know though…Jungkook has picked up on too. He has watched as Yoongi smiles at you and you smile back, he has watched as Yoongi subtlety touches your arm when he talks to you and how your hand finds his shoulder when you laugh.

Jungkook sits on his couch, chowing down on a slice of pizza as he glares at you and Yoongi. He doesn’t mean to glare but why is he here? This is a small get together between close friends. How close have you and Yoongi gotten?

“And then bro, I was like no fucking way bro.” Alien bro talks animatedly, his hands motioning all around the place.

Nick stuffs another slice of pizza in his mouth, nodding along to Alien bro’s story.

“That is fucking wild.” You hear Trina pitch in, “Like, did that really happen to you?”

“It may have been a dream, but let me tell you…” Alien bro closes his eyes, “I think it was real, like a memory.”

You internally laugh, because this dude has got some wild fucking stories and you don’t know how to take him seriously. But everyone seems to be enjoying it.

“Let’s do cake!” You hear Jimin yell out, “I have such a sweet tooth right now.”

At this you see Vanessa actually light up, like she has been waiting all night for someone to mention the cake. You two agreed she could present it to Jungkook, maybe that’s why she’s so visibly excited.

“I’ll go get it…” She speaks up, “I’ll be right back.” She says, facing Jungkook. Vanessa stands from her spot next to Jungkook on the couch and heads towards the kitchen.

A few minutes pass by when you hear your name being called. You get up and walk to the kitchen when you see Vanessa with the cake in her hands, the candles already lit up.

“Can you turn off the lights?” she asks, “And you can start the Birthday song.”

You nod your head, walking back into the living room to switch the lights off.

“Okay, ready Jungkook?” you smile at him and he rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“I guess.” He says, amusement laced in his voice.

“Happy birthday to you!” you begin singing, the rest of the gang joins in and the living room is soon being filled with the sound of everyone’s voices singing Jungkook a happy birthday. You pull out your phone and begin recording, Vanessa walks in with the cake and she keeps her face neutral. She doesn’t even sing, wow. You can’t help but kind of laugh, that’s so in character for her.

“Happy birthday dear Juuuungkoook, Happy birthday to you!” You all finish up and start whooping and hollering.

“Make a wish.” Vanessa sets the cake down in front of him and Jungkook nods his head. He takes a deep breath before his eyes find yours. You guys share a brief moment before he’s blowing out his candles.

“What did you wish for?!” Hobi asks, excitement filling the room as everyone agrees that they want to know.

“Secret.” He says, still looking at you.

“Here,” Vanessa nudges a perfectly wrapped box in Jungkook’s hands, “Present.”

“You didn’t have to Vanessa.” Jungkook grins at her but he’s already unwrapping his gift, he throws the wrapping paper to the floor and takes a look at the cologne box.

“This is so expensive!” he whines, “But thank you!” He looks at you for a moment when he awkwardly pecks Vanessas lips in front of everyone.

“My turn!” Jimin shouts, “My turn, my turn!” he stands up and walks by the front door where he left the gift. He picks up the bag and walks back into the living room, standing in front of Jungkook, handing him the bag.

“You’ll love it.” Jimin wiggles his brows at the boy.

Jungkook wiggles his brows back as he opens up the bag and pulls out a black hoodie.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook stands up to hug Jimin, “This one is so soft.”

The rest of the gang gives Jungkook a gift one by one until all eyes are on you. Suddenly, you feel super fucking shy and lame that you got matching bracelets.

“Uh, I haven’t gotten anything for you yet…” you lie. “But I will soon, promise.”

Jungkook’s bunny smile begins to fade as he processes your words,

“No worries, y/n.” he smiles again, “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s just a little late, is all.” You shift awkwardly from one foot to another. You wish you weren’t such an idiot. You notice Jimin staring at you from across the room, he looks disappointed.

“What about the bracelets y/n?” Vanessa’s voice can be heard by everyone. She looks at you with a blank expression and you never wanted to strangle someone more.

“What bracelets?” Jungkook’s curiosity showing.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. They’re friendship bracelets. Such a sweet idea.” Vanessa smiles at you.

“You got me and you friendship bracelets?” Jungkook stands up and walks to you, he extends his right hand out and waits expectantly.

“Thanks Vanessa.” You deadpan.

“No problem.”

“It’s really nothing Jungkook…”

“I want the damn bracelet y/n.”

You stare at him for a moment, his big doe eyes making you feel like you must give in.

“okay, they’re in my bag…” you turn around and search for your purse. You notice Yoongi trying to hand it you and you smile at him gratefully.

“Here.” You hand him his bracelet and he inspects it, rolling it through his fingers.

“Your initial?” Jungkook clenches the bracelet in his fist and looks up at you.

“I fucking love it.” He brings the bracelet to his heart, “I will wear it every day.”

“I have one too…” you pull it from your bag and dangle in around.

“It has a J?” Jungkook bunny smile grows ten times as wide. He takes the bracelet from your fingers and chuckles at the two bracelets.

“I love it.”

“I’m glad you like it—”

“No, love it. I love…” Then he’s clearing his throat, remembering he is in a room full of people.

“Thank you.”

“Oh! There’s one more thing…” you pull out the key chain and you watch as Jungkook’s face lights up. Of course he is more excited about the key chain, you laugh.

“Fucking awesome!” Jungkook takes it from you, “I’ll put it on my keys!”

“That’s the idea,” you chuckle. “Anyway, let’s play games now.”

You and Jungkook stand at the front of the living room, in front of the T.V in battle mode.

“You’re going down Jeon.” You snicker at him, he only rolls his eyes at you as he readies himself.

“I’m just glad I’m not going against Jimin.” Jungkook shoots Jimin a look and Jimin winks.

You two have to chug an entire beer can, trying to beat the other.

“Honestly, same.” You admit, if anyone can down a drink in seconds—it’s Jimin.

Trina stands up and joins your side,

“Okay, are we ready everyone?”

Everyone begins cheering, the sound motivating you and making you feel excited.

“Okay. When I yell…BAM…you start drinking and don’t stop until that can is empty…got it?”

“Yes, we know how to chug a drink, Trina.”

“Damn girl, I was just sayin’.” Trina throws a hand on her hip, “Okay, 3…2…1…BAM!”

You and Jungkook scramble to start drinking, the chilly liquid making its way down your throats. The drink is cold and carbonated and you’re trying to ignore the way it sizzles, instead pretending it’s as smooth as water and you down it back.

“Jungkook is going to win!” Namjoon yells out, he has risen to his feet, the excitement too much.

“No, y/n is! Look how much her head it tilting back!” You hear Jin chime in.

Truth is, you aren’t really sure how much you’ve drank, or how much is left! You’re just wanting it to be over!

“Holy shit, they’re both so close!”

“Broooooooo”

And right as you’re about to finish your drink you hear the sound of a can being crushed right next to you. He won.

“WHAT’S UP…LOSER!” Jungkook shakes his empty, crushed can in your face as you finally finish your own drink.

“Okay, okay. Literally only let you win because it’s your birthday.” You snide playfully.

“Sure y/n, sure.” Jungkook grins down at you, his laughter bounces off the walls and you feel so whole when you hear the sound. He leans forward until his arms are wrapped around you in a quick yet loving hug.

“Whatever you got to say to yourself…loser.” He chuckles out, letting go of you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Your pout is so cute, Jungkook thinks.

Yoongi stands up, his gummy smile lighting up the room as he approaches you two. He stands next to you and asks if you’re alright.

“You’ve already had so much to drink, I’m just making sure you can make it back to the sofa.” Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he laughs.

“She can handle herself.” You hear Jungkook say in a somewhat serious tone, “She knows how to drink.” He tries to say a little more lightly.

“But she doesn’t really have to do the penalty, right?” Yoongi asks.

“No, I definitely do.” You laugh out, “Where’s the shot, huh?”

Jungkook gives you a silly looking smirk as he heads towards the kitchen to fetch you that shot. He’s only gone for a moment when you realize he has returned with the liquid of fire.

“For you, princess.”

You roll your eyes at his little nick name he’s given you but you cannot help the blush that creeps on your cheeks…

“Please…please.” You pant, rolling your hips into his as you meet his desperate thrusts.

“Please what, princess?” he breathes out heavily, “Told you that when you’re with—” He begins fucking into you faster, “When you’re with me…to use your words.” His pace is bruising, causing you to choke on the air around you.

The little nick name causing you to remember something you have tied burying.

“I think you should take one too, since it is your birthday after all.” You tease.

“But I’m the winner…” Jungkook pouts, his bottom lip jutting out so far.

“Come on, I bet you won’t.” Jimin pipes in.

“Yeah dude.” You hear Nick say.

“FINE!” Jungkook throws his hands up in defeat, “But you have to go pour it for me.” He says, looking at you.

“Done deal, baby.”

“Pour me one too.” Vanessa walks up to you, her strap on her shoulder sliding down.

“Oh?” you ask, but you nod your head in approval and head towards the kitchen to pour two more shots.

You return with the shots, but feel your stomach drop when you see Jungkook and Vanessa laughing together, her hand laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Oh!” Jungkook looks at you and smiles, “The shots!”

“Yeah…”

And then Min Yoongi is at your side with his own shot, he looks at you and gives you a sweet smile and eyes full of understanding.

“Let’s take them.” He says. His hand going to yours, he squeezes it tight and you feel yourself trying to breathe.

“Here you go.” You hand the two shots to Jungkook and Vanessa, they take them and you four look at one another before raising your glasses.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook.” You whisper, taking the shot.

Hours pass, and things are starting to wind down, you think. Jin, Namjoon and Hobi are at the front door saying their goodbyes and you feel your time is coming soon too.

“Us too.” Trina says, “Our uber is almost here.” Her and Holly gather their things and make their way out the door.

“Jimin, you coming with us?” Trina asks.

“Um, what about you y/n?” Jimin makes it to your side, his hand going to rub your shoulder.

“You guys go without me, I’m going to help clean up. Hostess duties!” You salute towards your friends and they giggle.

“Okay babe, I’ll see you soon?” Jimin goes in for a tight hug and you hug him back even tighter.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help you clean up.” Yoongi offers, but you shake your head.

“No, I couldn’t ask that. Me and Vanessa got it. You go home too, it’s so late. I will come by to see you soon though.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks as he catches Jungkook watching you two. “Well, if you insist y/n.” he inches towards you and to your surprise, you feel his lips leave a small kiss on your cheek. Yoongi smirks when he sees Jungkook react. Jungkook glares at the boy and Yoongi feels like hopefully he helped enough tonight.

“What was that for?” you feel yourself turn red.

“Nothing.” He whispers before he’s turning around and walking out of the door.

You are left here shocked and confused but you cannot help but smile at Yoongi’s small gesture. He really is too sweet.

“Well,” you turn around to face Jungkook and Vanessa, “Let’s clean up,” you say to Vanessa, “And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Actually,” Vanessa curls her lips upwards, “I am feeling quite tired.” Her eyes find yours, “So maybe Jungkook can help you clean up.”

“You’re going home already?” Jungkook looks confused. He was probably expecting birthday sex or some shit.

“Mhm.” She breathes out easily, “See you later babe.” She leans over and pecks his cheek, you immediately twist your head to look away. Vanessa notices and she fucking smiles that sly ass smile. “See you later, y/n.”

And with that she is out of the apartment, leaving just you and Jungkook and Nick and Alien Bro.

“We will be out on the balcony smoking, if you guys want to join.” Nick offers to you, but you’re shaking your head no.

“Nah, you guys enjoy.” Jungkook says. Nick and Alien bro (You really got to learn this dudes name) are opening the back door and leaving you guys for the balcony.

“And then there was two.” Jungkook jokes, he chews on his lips as he watches you begin the cleaning up process. You get a large black trash bag and start throwing away the empty beer bottles and other trash around the living room and kitchen.

“Help me clean, birthday boy.”

Jungkook grins at you and starts helping, he’s gathering the shot glasses and setting them in the kitchen sink. You two work like this for around 10-15 minutes when the place is finally looking like his apartment again.

“Well, I guess that’s it.” You set the last trash bag in the kitchen, “You and Nick can take these out later, right?” “Yes, y/n. You did enough, I swear.” Jungkook smiles at you. “Hey, where’s your bracelet?” he dangles his wrist around, showing you his.

“Oh…” You dig around in your pockets until you finally find the piece of jewelry.

“Let me.” Jungkook stands closer to you, reaching his hand out, expecting you to hand over the bracelet. You place it in his hand and he grabs your wrist and clips the bracelet on.

“There.” He breathes out, “Never take it off.” He half jokes.

“You really like it?”

“I really love it.” Jungkook pulls you in for a hug, but he’s letting go much faster than you would like.

“Wanna chill for a bit?” He asks you, his hands still on your arms from your hug that you just shared.

“For a bit, sure.”

You two walk to the living room sofa and plop down, the long day finally catching up to you. It’s around 1 am now, you’ve been running around all day.

“So…” Jungkook looks at you with an unreadable expression, “What’s going on with you and this Yoongi guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was tonight like, a date for you two?”

“What? No?”

“Really? Could of fooled me and like, everyone else.”

“He was just joking…I think.” You groan into your hands, and laugh. “Why?”

“I was just wondering.” He turns to face forward, his face hardening as he thinks. “Is he going to be like, your boyfriend?”

“What?!” you choke on your spit, “Yoongi is my friend.”

“Does he know that?” Jungkook continues to look forward, “He was all over you.”

“He definitely was not all over me. Oh my god. What are you getting so crazy for?”

Crazy. That’s the word you use, but he knows you mean jealous. Jungkook sits here, biting on his bottom lip. He has to admit, he doesn’t like this ‘crazy’ feeling. He feels like he’s suffocating just remembering you with Yoongi tonight. He has no right to feel crazy or jealous. He has a girlfriend for fucks sake!

“I just hope he’s treating you right.”

“He’s just a friend Jungkook. But you know what? And if he was trying to date me?”

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, not liking the idea already.

“Then like I said, I hope he’s treating you right.” He says more softly, turning to look at you again.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

“It was nice, thank you.”

“What’s your favorite birthday in your life so far?”

Jungkook tilts his head as he thinks, rocking it side to side. He folds his arms behind his head and lets out a long breath.

“There’s two I can think of.” He says, “When I was 10 all I wanted to do was see one of those drive thru zoo things. But I wasn’t expecting much because I guess birthdays and holidays were stressful for my parents…” he takes a deep breath, “they always fought so much and so I didn’t think we would be doing anything for my birthday at all. But they for once, they got along this day. They took me to the zoo and I just remember being so on edge like something may go wrong…but it never did, it was a perfect day.”

“I bet 10 year old Jungkook was so cute.”

“I was the cutest!”

“And what’s the second?”

“Sophomore year of college.” He states quickly making you choke on air. Really? That birthday of all birthdays?

“Jungkook, there has to be a better one than that…” you begin, “We literally didn’t even do anything.”

It seemed everyone happened to become busy the day of Jungkook’s birthday, everyone except you. You and Jungkook spent the day just the two of you in his dorm room watching movies and playing video games. You didn’t even buy him a present, much too broke!

“That day meant a lot to me.” Jungkook explains, “You didn’t leave my side, no matter what.”

“Well, you were my best friend.”

“And now?” Jungkook turns his head to face you, “Am I your best friend now?”

“Jungkook…” you caress his thigh, “Of course.”

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles that bunny smile and you can’t help but giggle.

“Were you worried?”

“So worried.” He continues to laugh, “You’re my best friend too.”

~~~~~

October

“I don’t know guys!” you whine, bringing the cup of coffee in for a sip. “Marketing…can someone even be passionate about that?”

“What did I say y/n? You’re so concerned if you’re passionate or not, why don’t you start off small—finding something you just like.” Yoongi offers his piece of advice but you groan.

“What do you think Tae?” you point your head in his direction, “Wait, I am asking one of the most passionate people I know.” You complain.

“I agree with Yoongi, y/n.” Taehyung says, he drinks his water in gulps.

“Of course, who wouldn’t agree with Yoongi?” You hit your head on the table a few times.

You three are seated in Yoongi’s record shop in the cozy corner of the store, discussing the burden of dreams.

“I mean, guys.” You begin, “I don’t want to be making cookies forever.”

“But I really like them.” Yoongi whispers.

“Me too,” Taehyung says as he shoves a sugar cookie down his throat. “So good.”

“Guys, you aren’t helping.”

“Honestly y/n…” Yoongi stands from his seat to get some more coffee, “Stop trying to force a dream to happen. It will come to you naturally, just trust in that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” You hand Taehyung another cookie and he takes it with a grin.

“So y/n…” Taehyung swallows down the last bits of the cookie before he’s turning to face you in his chair, “How was Jungkook’s birthday, I forgot to ask.”

“It went really well actually.”

“Why do you say ‘actually’?” Taehyung laughs, “Were you expecting it to go bad?”

“It’s not that…I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Is it because of Vanessa?” Yoongi comes back with two fresh coffees.

“Maybe.”

“That’s his girlfriend, right? I just don’t get it. Should we come up with an evil plan to break them up?” Taehyung snickers.

“Tae, chill.” You giggle.

“I’m joking but I am also totally serious.” He comments. “Anyway guys, I gotta head back to the museum. But same time next week?”

“You know it.” You blow on your hot coffee, waving him goodbye.

The last few weeks the three of you meet up for coffee (Tae usually brings his own drink of choice, says coffee is too bitter for him) and chit chat just like now. It’s an interesting group but you feel comfortable. After time has passed, forgiving and moving on from Taehyung’s crushing you has gotten easier and now you even find his friendship to be quite valuable. You guess they weren’t kidding when they say time heals all wounds.

“Are you two ever going to tell me what happened between you? You were so tense when he first started hanging out.” Yoongi says, observant as usual.

“I will. But another day,” you smile.

“No rush.” Yoongi drinks his coffee slowly, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“By the way, did it work?” Yoongi asks between sips.

You can’t help but raise your brows in question,

“Did what work?”

“Did Jungkook say anything? About being jealous?” He gives you a smirk.

“What are you talk—wait, were you purposely trying to be affectionate with me to see if Jungkook would get a rise out of it?” You ask, completely shocked. That seems almost out of character for Yoongi!

“I tried. I’m a little awkward being the first to show affection, “ he admits, “But for you, my friend, I was willing to try.” He gives you a shy smile and you feel your heart race.

“Yoongi—”

“You really don’t even have to answer because I know the truth. I could see it on his face, but I was curious if he said anything to you.”

You think back to Jungkook’s birthday and well…he technically did say something to you. He was being a little crazy (jealous) but you cannot understand why. Jungkook is your friend and not to mention he has a girlfriend.

“Sorry to disappoint Yoongs, but he did not.” You decide to say.

“Did you know you avoid all eye contact when you want to lie.” Yoongi takes another sip of his coffee, his sly smile telling you he knows the truth.

“Jeez, why do you pick up on things so quickly?!” you groan, “I can’t even tell one little nothing lie in front of you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to lie to me then.” He laughs. “So what did he say?”

“He just—I don’t know. He just…wanted to know what was up with you basically.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to say ‘Ah’ and then continues to drink his coffee.

“He’s not going to be rude to you or anything!” you quickly say, “he’s just a little protective over me, is all.”

“Oh? That’s all?” Yoongi teases.

“Hey…” you set your cup down and fold your hands in your lap, “What makes you think Jungkook feels the same way?”

Yoongi breathes out slowly, his fingers tapping against his mug when he looks up at you and smiles.

“There’s an obvious tension between you two, “ he starts, “The way he looks at you. That honestly gave everything away. His eyes always find you, no matter what.” Yoongi quietly chuckles, “The way he’s threatened by me. He doesn’t even try to hide it.” Yoongi thinks for a moment, “And…you two, the way you are together…god, it’s like watching two people who are in a relationship but don’t know they’re in a relationship.”

“What—what do you mean by that?” you pry further. Curious about your own dynamic with Jungkook that maybe even you can’t see.

“I don’t know like, you guys act like boyfriend and girlfriend already!” he laughs, “That’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s okay,” his gummy smile lights up his whole face, “being your friend has been so much more rewarding.”

You feel yourself smile at his words…although, you do feel bad. But keeping a friend like Yoongi around has been amazing. And maybe if you weren’t already in love with someone else…no, you shouldn’t even think that, that’s not fair.

“Thanks Yoongs.”

~~~~~~

“We need to talk.”

Jimin is shoving his way through Jungkook’s front door, his hair pushed back in frustration like his fingers have been running through it for hours.

“Jesus man, it’s like 8 in the fucking morning.” Jungkook’s low, groggy voice booms from his chest.

“This couldn’t wait. I have to be at work at 9 and I’ve been up all night with the same one thing on my mind.” Jimin takes off his shoes and makes his way to the couch.

“And what’s that?” Jungkook asks, clearly annoyed.

“You need to tell y/n how you feel.” Jimin decides to go with the straight forward approach, he does not have the time to beat around the bush today.

Jungkook closes the door and swings around to face Jimin,

“Huh?”

“Listen man, I’ve been racking my brain about it all fucking night. It’s got to be you. You have to do it, she won’t.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Grow the fucking balls, man!” Jimin sits back on the sofa, his head falling into the cushion.

“Look dude, I don’t know what you—”

“You’re in love with her, you have been since freshmen year. You guys fucked, I know. She didn’t talk to you for however long, I know that too. But come on man, it’s so clear how you both feel.”

Jungkook continues to stand here, not knowing what to say. Where is all this coming from?

“I have a girlfriend, Jimin.”

“Oh please, give me a fucking break.” Jimin stands up, walking towards Jungkook. “There is almost zero chemistry between you two. Like emotional chemistry…I don’t know what your sex life is like…” Jimin holds up a hand, “And I don’t want to know.”

“Wasn’t going to tell you anyway,” Jungkook pouts. “Listen, how can you be so sure y/n would even feel the same way?”

“Can’t you just fucking trust me?” Jimin yells out, exasperated.

“Did she say the words Jimin?” Jungkook becomes very serious, making Jimin shudder. “Did she tell you she has feelings for me?” his dark eyes pierce into Jimin’s.

Jimin looks down at the ground, feeling defeated.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Jimin finally says, “You just have to have the courage man. Are you really going to go your whole life not telling her? Why torture yourself like that?”

Jungkook stands here feeling so lost, and fucking emotional. Like, he could god damn cry about it.

“Because,” Jungkook sniffles into his sleeve. “It’s guaranteed she would be in my life. I can’t risk losing her. I couldn’t handle that man…” Jungkook begins to choke up.

Jimin walks closer to Jungkook and pulls him in for a tight hug, Jungkook keeps his arms to his side.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jimin whispers.

“I think though…that there will be a moment where you finally have the courage…”

“I don’t know.”

“You will, Jungkook. When the timing is right…but I don’t know when that is for you two.”

“I really do love her…” Jungkook allows a few tears to slip from his closed eyes into Jimin’s shoulder. “I’m so frustrated like, all the time.” He admits, “Seeing her, talking to her, I just want to tell her how I feel. I hate how hard I have to try just to stay in the zone of friendship. But you don’t understand the risk…” Jungkook leans back, pulling away from Jimin. “If she doesn’t feel the same, I could lose her.” His puffy eyes avoid Jimin. “Can I handle a loss like that again?”

“But she…” Jimin has to bite his tongue…seeing his two best friends like this hurts his heart beyond belief.

“Yeah, I understand.” Jimin decides to say, “But I think you might be surprised.”

Jungkook pulls his brows together, his face scrunching up and he scoffs.

“Maybe, but maybe not.”

“I’m sorry to bring this all on you so early in the morning…I’ve just been so worried about you two…” Jimin starts to put his shoes back on.

“Maybe you could stay until you really need to leave for work? You still go like 45 minutes, right?” Jungkook practically begs with sad, soft eyes.

“Sure.” Jimin takes his shoes back off and grabs a hold of Jungkook’s shoulder, “Let’s sit down for a while.”

The two boys head to the couch and take a seat, leaving little space between them. Jungkook needs the presence of another human being right now, he needs to feel real live warmth. Jimin wishes he could mend Jungkook’s cracked heart but he knows only you can do that. But Jimin can try his best. The two sit in comfortable silence, the only sound that can be heard is Jungkook’s light sniffling and Jimin humming a soft tune.

“It’s almost 9.” Jimin mentions regretfully.

“I know. Thanks for staying for a bit.”

“Of course.” Jimin rises from the couch, “You guys are my best friends but you two sure are fucking idiots.” He smiles and makes his way to leave.

~~~~~~

Bored. So fucking bored. Trina and Holly went out for dinner tonight and you were not invited! You kind of wonder what’s going on between them…but that’s a thought for another day, right now you are so fucking bored.

It’s Friday night and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Jimin has some party he’s going to tonight but you didn’t really feel like going so you rejected his invitation, Jin and the guy’s invited you over for a cookout but you said no because you didn’t feel like driving all the way to Jin’s place—you know, lazy.

And you haven’t heard from Jungkook all day so he’s probably tired from work or worse—with Vanessa. But would it hurt to try? To see what he’s up to?

y/n 9:04pm

hi

Jungkook 9:10pm

Hi

y/n 9:12pm

Whatcha up to tonight?

Jungkook 9:13pm

Nothing really, you?

y/n 9:13pm

nothing either…

y/n 9:13pm

Wanna have a movie night with some wine?

Jungkook 9:20pm

Sure:)

Jungkook 9:23pm

Lemme guess, I have to bring the wine

y/n 9:23pm

Bingo!

Jungkook 9:50pm

I’m almost there

Not even 5 minutes later you hear your door being knocked on, and you yell a ‘come in’. Jungkook pushes the door open and finds you sitting on the couch wrapped up in your favorite blanket. He shuts the door behind him, and walks to the kitchen for some wine glasses. You two only nod at one another in greeting, getting comfortable in each others presence.

“I brought 2 bottles,” Jungkook says, “One for you, one for me.”

“Wow, you’re so smart.” You smile up at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smile is so special, it’s so soft and so fucking pretty he almost cannot handle it.

“Y-Yeah.” He sets the glasses down on the table that sits in front of the sofa. “What movie do you have in mind?”

“You can choose.”

“Iron Man?” “No, not that.”

“Fine.” He pouts, “Let’s find something new on Netflix.”

An hour into some random drama, you find yourself getting sleepy.

“Wakey wakey.” You feel Jungkook’s breath on your ear, you open your eyes a little wider to prove your consciousness.

“I am awake…hey,” you suddenly get an idea, “Remember a little while ago you said you felt like our friendship kind of started over?”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Would if we do?”

“I don’t get it?” Jungkook asks clearly confused.

“Let’s play a game! Of getting to know each other better. Everything out on the table.” You say with a pleased smile, obviously loving your own idea.

“hmmmmm…” Jungkook wraps his blanket closer around his body, “Sure.”

“Yay! I’ll pull out a list of questions from the internet.” You get your phone and google a list of questions. “You ready?” you say with a wink.

“I guess so.” He playfully shrugs his shoulders and shows you a small smile.

“Okay one…What’s your favorite way to spend a day off?”

“hmm…sleeping in, working out, playing video games, making videos, sleeping some more, hanging out with you.”

“Wow, honored.” You tease. “For me, it’s sleeping all day.”

“That’s it? That’s your whole answer?” Jungkook giggles.

“What type of music are into to?”

“y/n…” Jungkook whines, “You already know these answers…”

“We’re pretending we don’t!”

“Fine, I like almost all genres but I really prefer ballads.”

“I like music with meaningful lyrics,” you say.

“I agree.” Jungkook grins at you.

“Next…Do you have a favorite holiday. Why or why not?”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips as he thinks…is he honest?

“I use to hate holidays.” He admits softly, slightly slurring thanks to the wine, “But now it’s Christmas and New Year’s. And why? Both reasons are because of you.”

You feel your cheeks become warmer and probably pinker.

“Mine too.” You say quickly, “Next,” you are in a rush to change the subject. “Do you want a family of your own?”

“One day, yes. With the right person…”

“I’m the same.” You scroll through the questions, “If you had only one sense…hearing, touch, sight, etc, which would you want?”

“Touch. Imagine not being able to feel things?” Jungkook asks, he thinks about not being able to feel the soft touch of sheets on a bed, the feel of your hair between his fingers, your skin, your lips—wait, he needs to chill. “Yeah, touch.”

“Really? I would choose sight.” You say, “Who do you admire most in this world?”

“Mom.” Jungkook whispers, “She was so strong, she went through so much yet still found the strength to love me.”

“You.” Your hand finds Jungkook’s, you hold on to him softly, “My answer is you.”

“y/n…” Jungkook leans into your side, “Thank you.”

You clear you throat and continue scrolling through your phone, looking for the next question.

“If you found out today is your last day on Earth, what would you do?”

“Exactly what I’m doing right now.”

“Honestly? Me too.” You whisper, you feel your heart beginning to race as you and Jungkook admit that if it were your last day, you would spend it together. Somehow the thought almost seems romantic to you…that’s obviously your imagination but you can dream.

“What’s the last thing you do at night?”

Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and you hit his arm, laughing.

“Gross.” You giggle. “Something besides that.”

“What? You think it’s gross to mast—”

“Don’t!” you yell out laughing. “Don’t be gross.”

“Everyone does it y/n…I bet even you.” Jungkook voice goes low. “in fact, I have a question for you.” Jungkook scoots closer to you, “When was the last time you got yourself off?” your eyes go wide, “It’s not like you’re seeing anyone…unless you and Yoon—”

“No!” You begin to panic, “I’m not seeing anyone, you’re right.”

Jungkook releases a long breath and he smiles, “Thought so.” Then he’s scooting even closer to you.

“How do you touch yourself y/n?” He slurs out, “With your fingers only? Perhaps you use a vibrator?”

You push your head back in shock, there’s no way in hell Jungkook just asked you that? Is he drunk? Barely.

“Why do you want to know that?” you scoot a little closer to him too.

“Best friends know this type of stuff about each other all the time, don’t they?”

“Not really…but I’ll play. I use both.”

Jungkook raises a brow in amusement, he bites on his bottom lip as his smirks at you.

“You own a vibrator?” Jungkook chuckles darkly, “How come I didn’t know?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“I bet Jimin knows.”

“Fine, he does.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at you as he tries to hold in his slight laughter, his hand comes to his mouth and he chuckles into it.

“Thought so…when’s the last time you used it?”

“Last night before bed.”

“So, it’s the last thing you did at night?” Jungkook points his finger at you knowingly and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, I see where this is going. Fine, I get. We all masturbate. It’s completely normal and not gross and a totally valid answer for something you do before bed.” You throw your hands up as you giggle.

“Thank you.” Jungkook knees touch yours as he scoots just an inch closer, “But I wasn’t trying to make a point, I was genuinely curious about you.” He admits in a deep voice and you squeeze your thighs together, an action that does not go unnoticed by him. His eyes land to your lap and he chuckles. His voice is so low and inviting as he speaks, “Are you curious about me too?”

“What do you mean?”

“About when’s the last time I—”

“Fine, when’s the last time?” you ask lightly.

“Right before I came here.” He admits easily.

“Interesting.”

You and Jungkook stare at one another for what feels like at least an hour but in reality probably seconds. But his dark gaze is so raw and powerful, you find yourself leaning into his space.

“The last time I used my vibrator was yes, last night. But the last time I touched myself was tonight. Before you arrived.”

Jungkook nods his head in understanding, or maybe it’s approval? Either way he nods his head as a sly smile creeps on his lips.

“Can I ask you what you thought about?” Even Jungkook widens his eyes in surprise as he asks that. Where did that confidence come from? “Sorry that’s TMI.” He quickly rushes to say, not wanting to really hear your answer because he shouldn’t know what you fantasize about especially if he’s not in said fantasies.

You lean your head back and snicker. You wish you had the fucking courage to tell him the truth. Him. You thought about him.

In your fantasy his head was between your legs, licking you up and making you squirm. He would moan into your greedy cunt, basking in your juices. God, you can just picture it now. His mouth and nose covered in you, the shine on his face evidence of how well he’s eaten you. His fingers still buried inside you as he lifts his head up to smirk down at you, his hair a fucking mess from how much you have tugged on it.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about it right now and getting so heavily turned on. Your chest heaves just a little more than usual, and there’s an ache between your legs that you wish Jungkook would soothe. Your fantasy of him going down on you? You took that straight from your memories.

“Not going to say anything?” Jungkook leans in a little closer.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About…?”

“You.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand as he processes what you just say until—

“Wait, wait. That came out wrong.” Your hands scramble to hold on to his shoulders. “I mean, I was thinking about you. But not like that.” You lie. Because you have to lie.

“Oh…right, that makes sense.” Jungkook visibly deflates at your confession.

“Anyway, yeah. That’s a TMI for sure.” You laugh awkwardly and Jungkook leans back away from you.

“For sure.” Jungkook leans back on the sofa, “So, what’s the next question?”

“Ever had a threesome?” you ask from your own brain.

“You already know I have.”

“With two girls or with another guy…?”

“Two girls.”

“Would you ever with another guy?”

“Maybe if it’s with a girl that doesn’t mean something to me…but if it’s with someone I care about, probably not. I think I may be too possessive. Don’t wanna share.”

“Ah, I see.”

“What about you?”

“I would do both.” You admit. “Sounds like fun…”

“It is fun,” Jungkook laughs, “But there’s something special about just being with one person, if it’s special…”

“Have you ever had sex with someone special?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Jungkook’s never been in a serious relationship since you’ve known him so you weren’t expecting him to answer that with a yes…but he is with Vanessa now. So obviously…

“I see.”

“What’s the next question?”

“I’m looking up a new list. It’s kind of sexy, is that okay?”

“A list of dirty questions? I’m down.” Jungkook smirks and you feel the heat between your legs grow.

“Okay the first one is asking if you’re a virgin and I think the whole town knows the answer to that…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You laugh out, “Nothing, nothing.” Then continue scrolling, “Okay, opinion on shower sex?”

“Hmm, I’ve done, and I will do it again.”

“For me, it’s a little uncomfortable but I’ll do it,” you say, “boob or butt guy?”

“Fuck. Both of them, can I say both?” Jungkook pleads and you giggle.

“Sure, both.” Your eyes light up when you find the next question. “Oooh. What is your most embarrassing sex story?”

“Oh god…okay. When I was in high school I was getting head from this girl…”

“Uh huh…and then?”

“We got caught by our teacher and that’s a total mood killer right?”

“Right?”

“Well, when the teacher was scolding me I popped another boner. And I was wearing sweats so it was super obvious and she was trying so hard not to make it obvious. But I don’t know, my body betrayed me.”

“You got hard from getting scolded?”

“Apparently.”

You burst out into giggles, the story absolutely killing you. Who does that? Who pops a boner from getting scolded…by their fucking teacher?

“Your turn, your turn.”

“Okay…one time I was giving head…”

“Uh huh…and then?” he copies you.

“And I guess I swallowed his cum too fast because it shot out of my nose like milk.”

“What the fuck y/n.” Jungkook laughs out hysterically. “That’s so awesome.”

“It wasn’t awesome Jungkook, it was embarrassing.”

“Perspective.”

“In what world is someone’s perspective on this awesome?” “Mine.”

“Well, you’re fucking weird.

“Maybe so.” Jungkook continues to laugh, “What’s next?”

“Do you prefer to give or receive?”

“Who doesn’t love to receive? That’s obvious. But me? I am a giver, 100%”

And he’s right. Hence why you’re able to use the memory of him going down on you as good masturbation material.

“I see.”

“I think I am a giver too.” You look down at your phone, “But who doesn’t love to receive?”

“You do give nicely.” Jungkook whispers, “Anyway what’s the next one?”

“Do you like sexting?”

“Fucking love it. I love the dirty words and pictures.” He admits.

“Yeah, me too.”

What would it be like to be texting Jungkook throughout the work day, sending one another your dirtiest fantasies and pictures to go along with it.

“I’ll read the next one now…If I came home from work stressed, how you do you relax me?” your eyes go wide when you realize, “Wait, pretends it’s asking about someone else. So a girl you’re with comes home from work stressed, how do you relax her?”

Jungkook is quiet for a few moments, he chews on his bottom lip and breathes out heavily.

“How would I relax you? I mean, some girl?”

“Y-Yes.”

“First, I would kiss you breathless.”

“You mean her.”

“Right. I would kiss her lips over and over, taking off one article of clothing at a time, sit her down on the couch while I make my way into the kitchen…pour her a glass of her favorite wine and hand it to her. Then I would kiss down her body, telling her sweet words. How much I love her, how much I missed her today, how much she means to me. I will kiss down until I am taking off her pants along with her underwear…” “And then?” you breathe out.

“Kiss her sweet, soft skin…taste her. Taste how fucking good she tastes. Eat her out while she sips on her wine…”

“Oh nice.” You laugh a little.

“Make her come all over my tongue, getting her drunk on her orgasm.”

“And her wine.” You point out.

“Yes, both. After she comes, I will kiss back up her body and hold her.” Jungkook releases short breath after the other. “Make her feel wanted.”

“That does sound relaxing…”

“You like?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe—”

“Next question is ‘What turns you on almost instantly?”

“Dirty talk.”

“I see.”

“What—”

“You have to answer too, remember?”

“My stomach being touched.” You admit. “How do you feel about toys?”

“Not against them, could be fun to try out.”

“I agree…how do you feel about blindfolds?”

“You answer first.” Jungkook says shyly.

“I’m into it.”

“Being blinded? Or blinding someone?”

“Both? Yes, both.”

“Fuck, me too.” He folds his arms behind him as he leans back further into the sofa.

“Both for you too?”

“Yes. It would be boring if I was only into one thing right?”

You laugh, “Yes, I think we think similarly.”

“Interesting.”

“Very.” You smile at him and he smirks, “Would you like to watch me touch myself?”

“Yes—”

“—Wait, like your partner, not me.” You both say at the same time.

“Oh, well yes.” Jungkook says again. “Watching your fingers travel down to your pussy, rubbing your clit…well, not you but you get my point.” He says, his breathing becoming heavy again.

“Oh. I would also like to watch you.”

“But not me.”

“Exactly.”

“Spit or swallow?”

“I like a girl who swallows.”

“I like to swallow most times and if I don’t swallow it’s because I’m letting the guy come on my face or my tits or—”

“God damn it, y/n.” Jungkook breathes out erratically. His hand goes to his crotch as he tries to hide his growing member.

“Rough or sensual?”

“Fuck. Both, definitely both.”

“I agree. Why not both all the time?” you squeeze your thighs together again as you watch Jungkook shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch.

“Would you let me pleasure you as you drive? I mean, your partner. Sorry it’s just the way the questions read…”

“Yes. I would.”

“Seems a bit unsafe…but I would give it a try.” You say, “Do you like your hair to be pulled?” you ask with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Fucking love it.” He admits between heavy breaths, “But I like to pull hair too.” He winks.

“I do too, but I prefer being the one pulling.” You wink back. “Are you quiet during sex?”

“I—I don’t know…Am I?” Jungkook looks into your eyes, and you blank. Is he actually referring to the time you two had sex? Without him getting weird? “You aren’t the quietest.” You admit, “But it’s so fucking hot.”

“Well, you definitely aren’t quiet.” He says, “Can barely touch you and you’re already whimpering out.”

“Depends who the guy is.”

“Well, when it’s with me…sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up.”

“Right…” your fingers find their way into Jungkook’s hair, “But why not?”

“y/n…” he warns and you chuckle.

“What?” you decide to play innocent. “It was so long ago, Jungkook. We should be able to talk about it by now.”

But Jungkook can’t. Because although it’s almost been 4 years, it’s still so fresh for him. Not just the feeling of being inside you but the emotional shit he was feeling too.

“I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only about that night,” Jungkook decides to say, his hand goes to yours and gently places it back in your lap. “It felt so fucking good.” He whispers out and you feel all the heat in your body rush to your aching pussy.

“Oh.” You breathe out erratically. “I guess, I would have to agree.”

“Should we sleep soon?” Jungkook leans back as he asks you this.

“Don’t you want me to share one thing about that night?”

“…Sure.”

“You…felt so…good…inside me…” you say between deep breaths.

“You felt even better, y/n.”

It’s Saturday morning, and you find yourself waking up on the couch, a big blanket draped around your body and you can’t help but snuggle into it, not wanting to get up quite yet.

On the other side of the couch is a still sleeping Jungkook, his light snores filling your ears. You two didn’t even finish your wine last night, so you are waking up hang over free. The sun is shining today, it’s rays peeking through your window blinds and you want to throw the blanket over your head to hide yourself from the brightness but you decide to actually wake up and get up instead.

You throw the blanket off your body and on to Jungkook, who gratefully takes it and cuddles deeper into the covers. You stand up and head towards the bathroom to wash up, turning on a hot shower.

You wonder what you’ll be up to today, will you stay in? Go out? Hang with the girls? By the way, did they ever come home last night? You stop by Holly’s room to find it empty. Interesting, you guess they went to Trina’s.

The shower is ready for you so you slip in and let the warm water cascade over your tired body. You shampoo, condition and wash your body, when you hear insistent knowing on the bathroom door.

“y/n!!! I gotta pee!!” Jungkook’s worried voice is heard over the running water, “That’s it, I’m coming in okay?!”

And before you can respond, you hear the door being swung open and Jungkook lifting the toilet seat lid up and releasing himself. You fucking laugh. He literally says ‘Aaahhh’ for the same amount of time he is peeing.

“Fucking finally, I thought I was going to piss myself.” He says when he’s finishing up.

“Sorry.” You reply lamely. “Shower felt too good to leave.”

“Well, hurry up so we can go get something to eat. I’m so hungry!”

“Okay, okay.” And with that, Jungkook is leaving the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You finish washing up, stepping out of the shower and drying off. You quickly leave the bathroom in just your towel to head to your bedroom. Thankfully, Jungkook is on the couch watching some show on Netflix—too busy to notice your half naked state.

You get dressed in a rush, not wanting Jungkook to wait much longer for you. You settle for some jeans and a cute yellow shirt.

“I like yellow on you.” Jungkook says when he sees you. “Pretty.”

You are sure your cheeks are turning a nice shade of red at his compliment but you cover them with your hands to hide yourself.

“Thanks JK.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

512 notes · View notes

tsukishumai · 3 years

Note

Hii! I’m not sure if requests are still open, ignore this if they aren’t! But I was wondering if I could get #23 from general with Aone? Thank you!! ❤️

Thank you for the request my love! <3

Send me a prompt + your fav character here :)

23. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?”

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: slight cursing, das it.

A/N: TY FOR THIS REQUEST but i have never written for Aone, nOR do i have any idea HOW to but i tried my best, I’m just rly hoping i didn’t butcher this & i hope u like i anyway :(

Most people have the wrong impression of Aone Takanobu.

You couldn’t really blame them. Just shy of 6’4”, Aone was one of the tallest people in your school, nearly always looking down on anybody that tried to speak to him. He never slouched, always keeping perfect posture, eyes set dead straight as he walked down the halls with an air of command. Maybe it was the fact that he had no eyebrows, but his expression always seemed to be fixed in a scowl. His aura was intimidating, as is expected if one were to be the new Iron Wall. But in the hallways of Date Tech, he wasn’t “Aone, the Iron Wall”. He was just Aone.

As much as you hate to admit it, you weren’t immune to the dangers of gossip. People talked, and Aone wasn’t the type to talk back, allowing the words spoken behind his back to stain his image.

That Aone guy, he’s really scary.

I tried to talk to him once, and he just glared at me.

Sheesh, I wouldn’t want to be caught alone in the room with him.

Knowing there was such a person in the volleyball club, it nearly turned you away from signing up for the manager spot. But everyone needed to be in a club, and you had experience managing your middle school volleyball club. To be frank, you didn’t really want to put the effort into something new. So you sucked it up, and walked into the gym with your application in hand.

In your mind, Aone Takanobu was the leader of the volleyball club. He was probably the one that commanded all his teammates what to do, all of them just mere pawns in his large hands.

Instead, what you’ve come to discover is that Aone might actually just be a glorified babysitter.

Futakuchi is a handful. You had expected that much. His problematic quips never failed to serve as the spark that ignited the rage in Kamasaki-senpai’s heart. Their yelling always bounced around the volleyball gym, throwing out curses and insults until Moniwa forced Aone to intervene.

There was something almost ironic at the thought of Aone Takanobu being the peacemaker. But after weeks and months of after school practices, games, and team bonding activities, you kind of wanted to scoff at ever thinking Aone was anything but peace.

Aone doesn’t say much, but that’s because he doesn’t have to. His intentions are always clearly plastered on his face, and he was as easy to read as an open book. You’ve learned that his lip twitches when he’s upset, and his nose crinkles when he’s disgusted. His mouth pouts a little bit more when he disagrees, and the skin on his forehead is relaxed when he’s satisfied.

His actions are never tainted with any hidden agenda, only ever doing what is correct. That is probably why, even though Futakuchi was made captain, the whole team trusted Aone to be the one to support them.

As a manager, it’s normal for you to pay close attention to your members, right?

Of course you would pick up on little aspects of Aone’s personality. You know he’s respectful with the way he tends to feed the stray cats that littered around the school. You realize he’s gentle when he offers to help the struggling old lady cross the street. (You also learn he’s kind of sensitive about his intimidating looks when she declines his outstretched hand, looking almost fearful at the tall young man attempting to aide her to the other side.)

He shows you that he’s calm and composed every time he’s on the court, and you learn that your kind Aone can actually be ruthless in the way he stuffed the ball back into his opponents face.

Wait, your???

You’ll never forget, however, when Aone decided to show you a lesson in kindness.

Futakuchi was being such an insufferable asshole all practice, you weren’t sure what his endgame was by being such a prick. But it riled you up enough to insult his volleyball skills, and the hotheaded captain wasn’t about to give you the last word.

Maybe it was the volleyball devils down below that compelled you to call his serves “weaker than the joints on his grandmother”, but it was that phrase that had you at the other side of the net, ready to receive one.

The other members could only watch in abject horror as Futakuchi’s angry swing botched the serve, but your stupid pride made you attempt to dive for it anyway. The ball landed on your fingers with just the right spin and strength, and you felt intense pain shoot through your left hand as you heard your finger dislocate with a pop.

You let out a strangled hiss, landing pathetically on your knees while the rest of the Date Tech volleyball team run to your side.

Somehow, Futakuchi made it to you first, looking as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or be concerned. “What the hell, L/N? All that talk and for what?”

“Fuck off, Futakuchi,” you cursed, gripping your wrist with your right hand. You look down at your left middle finger, ugly and crooked and already starting to swell.

“Oh, damn,” Futakuchi’s expression dropped, inspecting your finger. “I think it’s dislocated.”

“I heard it pop,” you nearly whimpered, holding it out for the others to see.

Some boys grimaced, and others simply shook their head at your antics. But in the middle of the crowd, a hand shot out to make way, Aone shoving past his other teammates.

Wordlessly, Aone knelt down in front of you, taking your hand gently into his. He brought it up closer to his face, assessing the damage before positioning his hands around your middle finger.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, his deep voice immediately shushing everyone around him, “Focus on me, alright?”

The shock of Aone speaking will never go away for you, and you were a little embarrassed at the effect his voice had on you. You couldn’t do anything but stare into his eyes, mouth slightly hung open as you vaguely hear him counting down.

“One, two, three.”

In a split second, he pops your finger back into place, and you yelp at the pain. Aone doesn’t let go of your hand, holding it tightly in his as he rubbed his calloused palm along your arm in a soothing pattern. It felt like forever until the aching subsided, the only thing keeping you grounded was the hands of the deceptively tender middle blocker.

Aone stood you up after a few minutes, never letting you out of his hold until he was sure you were stable. He whipped his head to Futakuchi, eyes narrowing slightly at the brown haired captain rubbing sheepishly at his neck.

“Right, you should probably go and get some ice for that,” Futakuchi mumbled, “Sorry about that, L/N.”

“Don’t do that again.”

Aone was not a many of many words, but the ones he did speak always knew how to silence a room.

He turned around and walked you all the way to the nurse’s office, never once leaving your side until you were checked over and cleared to go. His hand lingered on yours on the way back, and you liked the way they nearly engulfed yours.

Yes, you’ll never forget the day you learned about Aone Takanobu’s kindness.

Because it was also the day you learned that you might just be in love with him.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone hcs #aone x reader #aone takanobu x reader #aone fluff #aone takanobu fluff #aone headcanons #aone x you #aone imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! scenarios #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #hq hc

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luminnara · 3 years

Text

The Dismemberment Song PART 2 | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words:

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club. It turns out the two have a little history together...and they both want to do something about their unresolved tension.

PART ONE | PART TWO

Thanks so much for reading!! I really really hope you like this, because BOP Zsasz needs more love and attention, and I, for one, am determined to give it to him!

Words: 3,666

Warnings: Alcohol, blood, violence, mutilation, that good good smutty smut (oral, penetration), kinda dom!Zsasz

Requests are open!!

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You had never been in Roman Sionis’s penthouse. It was strictly off limits to anyone he didn’t personally invite, and you didn’t even think that his favorite little bird, Dinah Lance, had been up there. Now, though, here you were, stepping out of the elevator with Zsasz on your heels as you marveled at the converted loft.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking around.

Roman’s place was filled with weird art, all sorts of exotic masks sitting on pedestals or hanging on the walls. There was a long, dark dinner table with a decorative fruit platter sitting in the center, and an open floor plan allowed to see the spacious living room surrounded by huge walls of windows that overlooked the East End. It was the perfect blend of luxurious and industrial for someone like Roman, and you sighed as you imagined yourself living somewhere so nice.

“‘Sthat all about?” Zsasz asked in that rough, low, almost drawling voice.

“Just admiring the view,” you said as you left him to go stand before the windows.

“Yeah,” Zsasz agreed. “It’s nice.”

But his eyes were on you, not the Gotham skyline.

“Do you stay here with him?” You asked, turning to look at Roman’s henchman with a bright, exuberant smile on your face, as if you hadn’t just murdered a man onstage in the club.

“I do.” Zsasz approached you, hands in his pockets as he moved in that watchful, predatory way you always saw him slinking around with. “I’ve gotta protect the boss. He needs me.”

“You must do a pretty good job of it.” You mused. Now that you were confident that Roman wasn’t going to have Zsasz peel your face off, you were allowing yourself to relax again.

“It’s my job.” He said simply, coming to stand behind you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in.

You froze.

His chest was brushing your back and you were almost certain he could hear the way your heart was hammering away in your chest. You held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Zsasz brought a hand up to brush your bloodstained curls away from your shoulder.

His fingers were rough, calloused, and warm, just like the rest of him, his hands big and strong enough that you were confident he could kill you unarmed in the blink of an eye. The weird, sadistic side of you would welcome it; though you had never admitted it to anybody before, you were pretty sure that Victor Zsasz was the only man you would ever allow to kill you.

You could remember the first time you met him, years ago, when he and Roman came to your old gig to convince you to start up at the Black Mask. He had less scars back then, but still the same bleached hair and that fucking handsome stubble on his jaw. You had been entranced as you watched him follow your eventual employer around, the club owner giving them their own corner booth and all the bottle service that Roman Sionis could possibly want.

You could remember how your legs had turned to jelly when the shift manager sent you over to them, but you must have managed to hide it well, because you spent the rest of the night drinking and partying with Roman fucking Sionis. Then, obviously, one thing led to another, and you had gone to work for him.

The part you had never told anyone about, though, the part you never spoke of, was the part where Zsasz had taken you into a vip room.

You didn’t remember all the details about everything that night, but you could still recall every moment you spent on his lap. Every appreciative squeeze he gave your ass and thighs, every low moan he let out as you rocked your hips with his. You still dreamt about it once in a while, even though you were sure that it had all been something about Roman making his lackey inspect the goods before hiring you.

But still...you had loved it.

He always wore his shirts unbuttoned a fair ways down to show off the scars on his upper chest, but that night, you had gotten to see more. You could remember how you had run your fingers over them, and the way that Zsasz had watched you almost reverently. You didn’t know exactly why he etched them into himself, if it was to intimidate everyone or for some personal reason, but you didn’t find them odd or ugly. You loved the raised scar tissue and the way it felt, so smooth to the touch despite looking so gnarled, and it was one of the many reasons you had always harbored a secret liking for Victor Zsasz.

Now, as he stood so close behind you, you felt that same jelly in your legs.

“You should get cleaned up, kitten.” He said in that low voice. “The boss wouldn’t want you making a mess.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Why don’t you show me to the shower then, Zsasz?”

It came out more sultry than you had intended, but when he responded by pressing his hips into your ass, you were glad. He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, his eyes trained on yours as he did nothing but stare at you for a few agonizingly long moments.

“Right this way, Princess.” He finally broke away.

You brushed off your mild disappointment, mentally chastising yourself for hoping that would have gone further, and followed him down a hallway, passing a few closed doors before reaching one that stood open. When Victor stepped in and flipped the light switch, you stood and gawked at what awaited you.

Of course Roman Sionis would have the nicest guest bathroom in Gotham.

It was huge, a claw foot tub sitting against the wall across from the sink while a shower was situation at the far end. Everything was off-white and antique gold, simple and elegant and clearly very expensive.

“Holy shit,” you said under your breath, for the second time that night. “Roman doesn’t skimp out, does he?”

“The boss has expensive taste.” Zsasz said, following you in. “Get in the shower.”

You turned and looked at him. “Little privacy might be nice.”

He only stared back.

“Zsasz...?” You gave a little nod towards the door.

“Oh,” he chuckled, laughing to himself as if something had slipped his mind. “Course. Privacy.”

He turned and shut the door, still in the room with you.

You sighed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Can’t leave you alone in here unattended.” He said, stepping towards you. “You might slip and fall.”

His voice was slightly menacing, in a way that had you almost wondering if he wasn’t going to find a way to kill you and stage your death as an accident. But you were confident in yourself. If he made any funny moves, you could get him before he got you.

Maybe.

“Fine.” You jutted your chin out defiantly. “Then why don’t you make yourself useful and go warm up the water for me while I get out of this robe?”

You expected him to roll his eyes and sneer, but he didn’t. He didn’t even refuse. He just walked right over, slid the glass shower door to the side, and turned the water on. Just like that. Obediently, as if he actually wanted to. You were so dumbfounded by it that by the time he glanced back towards you, you were still standing there, completely dressed.

He looked a bit disappointed.

“Well?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” You untied your fancy little robe and let it fall onto the tiles, still looking straight at him.

You could see his eyes trailing down your body, those dark circles under them giving him a hungry, starved look. When you hooked your thumbs in the sides of your thong and pulled it down, you saw his chest rising and falling as his breaths quickened slightly.

You smirked. Yeah, like Roman had said, Zsasz was harmless. If he had wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He’d already had a dozen chances on the way up to the penthouse.

As you walked toward the shower, he stepped to the side, seeming for a moment as if he was content to let you go in and enjoy the hot water in peace. Of course he wasn’t, though;

This was Victor Zsasz.

“Wait.” He caught your wrist just before you could step in and you were vaguely aware of the blade he flicked open with his other hand. “You need a mark.”

“What?” You stepped back, allowing him to pull you up to him.

“A mark.” He tapped one of the scars on the side of his face with the knife. “For your kill. Where do you want it?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You had never kept track of the lives you took, but...it really wasn’t that bad an idea. Plus, it seemed like Zsasz wasn’t giving you the option to refuse.

Double plus, it was kind of sexy to imagine him carving you up.

“Here.” you finally said, pointing to the center of your chest.

Zsasz grinned, showing off those gold teeth that you loved so much. He kept his grip on your wrist but lowered your arm to your side, his knife pressing against the thin skin above your sternum. His touch was feather light, no doubt thanks to years and years of butchering people, both for Roman and for his own pleasure. He new exactly how hard to press in which areas, an expert in the art of slicing through flesh. The steel of his blade was cool and freshly sharpened, gliding along and drawing an angry, but beautiful, red line as blood oozed up and began running down your torso.

As he dragged the knife down, you let out a hiss of discomfort, pitching forward slightly in pain. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours as his blade cut deeper, deeper, nearly down to the bone, and by the time he was finished, you had a four inch long gash ending at the top of your cleavage that was sure to scar marvelously.

You looked down at it in wonder. Zsasz had done it so...beautifully. He made it so important, this new tally mark. And as you gazed at it, you realized you loved it because he made it. Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham City’s most fucked up criminals, had given you a scar. For somebody just as fucked up as him...well, it practically brought tears to your eyes.

Victor didn’t give you a chance to get weepy. He dropped the bloody knife into the spotless white sink, the blade clattering loudly above the sound of the shower. Zsasz moved his thumb to your new cut, pressing it against the wound and then bringing it up to his mouth to lick your blood off.

“Zsasz,” you whispered.

“Victor.” his voice rumbled as he let go of your wrist. “Call me Victor.”

Then his hands were on you, one squeezing your tit while the other grabbed your ass. You gasped in surprise, but his mouth silenced you almost immediately. The kiss was rough, his lips nicked with a few scars, but he was good and you immediately melted against him. He was devouring you, as if he been starved of any attention for years, and maybe he had been. He was hungry for you, insistent, determined, practically begging for more as a low moan rose in his throat.

Your knees were weak, and you had to break the kiss to catch your breath before you collapsed. You wanted more, though, needed to feel more of him, your hands ripping open his nice designer button down. He wasn’t even mad that you had just sent half the buttons flying around the bathroom, because your fingers were already trailing over the scars that covered his chest, then dipping down to run across his hips.

His skin was smooth, wherever it was free of tally marks, and incredibly hot to the touch. While you explored, your lips latched onto his neck, kissing and biting and sucking in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Zsasz was used to being the demanding one, but he wasn’t about to complain that you were so determined to leave some marks of your own.

Your hands ghosted up over his pecs and then down his abs, and you hummed in appreciation as you felt the neatly groomed hair on his chest. When your hands dipped lower and lower and finally found his belt, he suddenly growled and grabbed your wrists, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Shower. Now.” he ordered, eyes dark.

You obeyed, slipping away from him and stepping into the shower. You could hear him undressing, and as you sighed happily at the feeling of the warm water on your skin, he came to join you.

The shower was more than big enough for the two of you, but he didn’t want to give you any space. He backed you up against the wall, his lips immediately crashing down on yours as he pushed himself up against you. You could feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and whimpered in anticipation, a shiver going straight down to your pussy.

Fuck.

You wanted him so fucking much.

“V-Victor,” you whispered as he leaned back from the kiss. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was quickly building up.

“I wanna hear you purr for me, kitten.” He rasped, his big, warm hand drifting down to your cunt. He found your clit immediately, teasing it, reveling in every gasp and cry you let out for him.

He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and worship you with his mouth, but he could be patient.

“You know, when I saw you there, on the stage...” he said as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “...I couldn’t look away...”

“R-really?” You gasped, arching your back as you sucked in a breath.

“Mhm.” He pressed a finger into you. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the way you carved him up...”

You squealed at his touch, the sound like music to his ears. He liked it even more than the sound of his victims screaming...though he was confident you’d be doing plenty of that, too.

“Never knew such a pretty little birdie like you could do somethin’ like that...” he said, slowly pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in again. “All that blood...”

“I-I’ve killed plenty of times,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms as you clung to him.

“I could tell...you made it look like art...” he suddenly added a second finger, shoving them both in until the rest of his knuckles were pressing against your labia and he had nowhere else to go.

You let out a loud whine, wanting more, needing more. Before you could demand anything of him, though, he was kneeling in front of you, practically reading your mind as he leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth.

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled, but then again, you hadn’t really expected any of this to be happening tonight.

He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, as if he hadn’t had food in weeks, as if he was starving. Zsasz was desperate, lapping up all the wetness from your pussy as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, his moans vibrating against your skin. His hair was too short to tangle your fingers in, but you still tried, nails scratching his scalp in a tantalizing way while he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave little red marks behind.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back against the wall and tensing as he sucked on your clit. Little jolts were running through you, sparks that almost felt electric. Your limbs were tingling as your orgasm built, and as it finally spilled over, you found yourself whining and gasping and chanting his name over and over, holding onto him tightly as he licked at you greedily.

Zsasz loved it. He wanted you to need him, and he loved the sounds he could pull from you. He could keep going all night, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you, but now, he wanted more.

“Turn around.” he said as he stood, licking his lips.

You nodded, still in a daze as you turned and braced yourself against the wall. He grabbed your hip in one hand and his cock in the other, rubbing the head against your swollen, wet pussy. Next time, he would have you suck him off. Maybe he would ask you to wake him up with a blowjob in the morning. But now, tonight, he was hungry to feel you around him, and as he slowly slid into you, he savored every moment of it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as he buried himself in your heat. “You’re fuckin perfect, kitten...”

You moaned back, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy around it causing you to momentarily forget your words. As he drew out and then snapped his hips forward, you grunted, biting down on your lip as you closed your eyes. He felt incredible, rubbing past all the right spots inside of you as he found a rhythm he liked and began fucking you mercilessly. His hands were grabbing you wherever they could, be it your hips or tits or hair, and as he fell further and further into his desire for you, you could feel his chest brushing over your back as he leaned down.

“You’re such a good girl,” he growled, nipping at your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” you choked out, trying to turn and look at him. “I-I belong to you, Victor...”

“Good girl.” he snarled, squeezing the side of your ass cheek as hard as he could.

The moan you let out was absolutely filthy, and as your pussy squeezed around him, you felt yourself beginning to come undone once more. He pounded into you and your moans and cries grew louder and louder, a symphony of pleasure as you climaxed, and Zsasz followed soon after, moaning your name in your ear as he filled you up. Your pussy milked him, squeezing every last drop out of his cock, and as he caught his breath, you could feel him pressing lazy kisses against the back of your neck.

“Fuck,” he panted.

You straightened up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you against his chest as he refused to let you go. It was quiet for a moment as you both came down from your highs, the sound of the shower the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, he allowed you to turn around, and as you faced him, you saw a surprisingly serene expression on his face.

“Stay with me.” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

“What about Roman?” you asked, legs still quivering.

“The boss’ll understand.”

And that was that.

Zsasz washed the blood off of your skin, insisting that you let him do all the work, and afterwards, he gave you a plush bathrobe to wear. You spent the night in Victor’s bed, and you did wake him up with a surprise blowjob, even without him asking you to. After a round of morning sex, you walked out into the penthouse in your bathrobe to see Roman Sionis already sitting at the table, and for a moment, you froze. You had almost forgotten where you were, and there was your boss, Gotham’s newest and nastiest godfather, spreading some cream cheese on a gourmet bagel.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up as he heard you. “You’re still here.”

“I...uh...”

“Mornin’, boss.” Victor said, walking out behind you. He was fully dressed, looking and acting as if he hadn’t taken home a girl the night before.

“The car is waiting for you.” Roman grunted, far more interested in his breakfast than he was in the conversation. “Be quick about it.”

Zsasz bowed his head and turned to you, holding his hand out expectantly. When you only stared at him, he almost rolled his eyes. “Your house keys, princess.”

“My...what?” you asked. “For what?”

“So I can get your things.”

“What things?”

“You’re moving in.” Roman said dismissively, as if it were obvious.

“...What?”

“You’ve been promoted. Or did you forget?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested he was already tired of your questions. “You’ll be staying here, until you either die, or I fire you, or both. Now, be a dear and give Mr. Zsasz your keys, so that he can get your necessities. I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you this afternoon.”

You stared at him for a moment and then looked at Victor. “They’re in my bag down in the dressing room. But--”

Before you had a chance to finish and tell him that this really wasn’t necessary, he was already gone, calling the elevator so that he could obediently go down to the club and rummage through your purse. You had no doubt that he could get into your locker on his own, and as much as you really didn’t want or need him to go to the effort, you weren’t entirely mad about it. Living with Victor--and Roman--didn’t seem like that bad a deal, and if it meant that you’d get to have more fun with Zsasz, you were all in.

“Well, glad that’s settled.” Roman said, sitting back and wiping the edge of his mouth with a fancy little cloth napkin. “Welcome to the Sionis penthouse, Princess.”

#victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #zsasz x reader #birds of prey zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #birds of prey imagine #dc imagines #dc x reader

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spicycreativity · 3 years

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I saw you were taking requests and i wanted to send one in!

Can i request Remus angst, where his intrusive thoughts are getting really bad and he thinks that everyone is going to abandon him like roman (the split) and virgil, and then Janus comforts him and it ends with janus holding remus and comforting him?

Please and thank you!

You're awesome!!

This kinds turned into fluff, oops. Like angst-fluff. Also thank you for the request! This was a fun one b/c it's not something that ever would have occurred to me to try to write, and it was interesting to take a character like Remus, who feels very sure of himself (imo) and explore what kind of self-doubts he might have

I ended up leaning on my own experiences w intrusive thoughts and also that like Aro Fear that all your friends are gonna pair off and forget about you because That's What Happens

Anyway! I hope you like it!

Remus and Janus are QPPs, your honor

Unhealthy behaviors were hard to gauge with Remus. His being quiet was not always a red flag, nor was his tendency toward sudden bursts of energy. Even his self-soothing behaviors were a constant, and did not necessarily mean anything was amiss.

He was quiet this morning, chewing on his knuckles and staring at Janus, who was drinking his coffee and pretending to enjoy the silence.

Remus was agitated. He bit down on his bent index finger and tried not to think. Unfortunately for him, being Intrusive Thoughts meant experiencing intrusive thoughts, and no amount of coping mechanisms could make them go away. Much like himself, they simply demanded attention, repeating like propaganda, over and over and over until they became the truth. It wasn't self doubt and it wasn't fear. It simply was.

Today, the manifest truth that drove his front teeth together against the barrier of his finger was this: Janus was going to leave him. Roman left, after all, and Virgil left, and Patton and Logan wanted nothing to do with him. Not that Remus wanted anything to do with them, but if he ever did…

So it stood to reason that Janus was next.

The inevitability of it lodged in his chest like so many knives, until he was certain he could see them sticking out of his chest and-- Ah, they were there. Big, ugly butcher knives. Janus hadn't noticed yet, too busy with his newspaper (an imperfect facsimile of one Thomas had seen a few days ago in a coffee shop).

What would mornings be like without Janus? What would Remus do without anyone? Preemptive loneliness washed over him; the knives faded out and he started to go with them, gradually turning transparent in his armchair. Loneliness. That great certainty, that big, ugly fact.

What the fuck was he going to do without Janus? With no one to listen? How much time did he have left? How long before it all went away?

Now it was fear, now it was despair, now it was an utter lack of any sort of hope for the future, because it was going to happen, it was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it, and it didn't matter if it was now or a year from now because there was no happy ending--

A few cold tears snaked down his cheeks. Stupid. Not shameful, but completely fucking stupid. He sniffled.

Janus put his newspaper down. Remus watched with blurred vision as his expression turned from curious to concerned and then stayed there, instead of reaching its usual sardonic terminus. "Um, Remus?"

It was hard to talk. Remus swallowed and made an effort. "What?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but you're crying."

"So?"

Janus cocked his head. "What do you mean 'so'?"

"So what?"

"Goodness, it's not like we're friends or anything. If you're upset, please keep it to--" Janus took a deep breath. "Look, if you're upset, you can talk to me about it. I want you to talk to me about it."

Remus accepted this with a nod, knowing full well it wasn't that simple. How could he make Janus understand? "I was just thinking about what it's going to be like when you leave, and… Well, I'm gonna miss you, that's all."

"When I leave?" Janus leaned forward, pressing his elbows on his knees so he could study Remus better. "Who said I was leaving?"

"Everyone else did," Remus said, trying for bravado. He got a few more tears instead, which he really should have seen coming. Remus was many things, but he was not a liar. "R-Roman went away, Virgil…" His voice broke. "I just…"

"Oh, come here." Janus got up. It was a difficult thing to jam two grown men into an armchair, but Janus was clever and arranged it somehow, so that Remus could rest his head on Janus' chest and get snot and tears all over his nice gray shirt. That was nice of him. "Remus, why are you mourning something that hasn't even happened?"

Sure enough, Janus didn't understand. "It's going to happen," Remus said. "I just know. It's-- I know it."

"Oh, come on, Remus." Janus pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Where would I go? I don't like any of the others half as much as I like you."

"But--"

"But?"

Remus smiled through his tears and nuzzled into Janus' chest, leaving wet spots on his shirt. "I just made you say 'butt.'"

"There you are," said Janus, and the fondness in his voice was so undisguised, so genuine, that Remus found he had no choice but to believe in it. "I take it your brain is being mean to you today?"

"I guess," Remus said, because it was easier than arguing. He'd never been able to make Janus understand that the thoughts didn't always feel mean even if they were upsetting.

"How can I help?"

"Can we just stay like this?" Remus asked.

Janus ruffled his hair. "Of course. But you're not using my shirt as a tissue."

Remus wiped his eyes on Janus' shirt just to be contrary, and laughed when Janus jammed a whole fistful of tissues in his face. "Thank you," he said, shoving one of the tissues into his mouth and swallowing it for the joy in the shock value.

"I'm not going anywhere," Janus promised. "I'd like to see you try to get rid of me."

#spicywrites #platonic demus #platonic dukeceit #goddd i was literally like 'hm i wonder if remus crying is too over the top' and then i remembered that i've literally cried #over this exact thing in recent memory. as an adult. also i h/c Remus (and Roman) as having ADHD so the emotional disregulation makes sense #imo

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tobesobri · 4 years

Text

Bust | Part One: Chisel (7.8k)

“Disappointed?” She tilted her head, smirking at him. She had no right to think he liked her better than Rose. She, herself, liked Rose better too. So she was sure he had to be at least a little bit sad to see Rose missing.

He smiled and the second she saw those dimples she was reminded of his Instagram all over again.

“A little,” he nodded, pinching his thumb and index finger together in the air and she painfully agreed.

“Well, you get me all by myself tonight.” She didn’t realize how it sounded until it was too late. Until she was cringing at all the sexual insinuations she’d just made for absolutely no reason. She could have said something else that wasn’t laced in an innuendo. But no, of course not. She had to continue her embarrassing streak when it came to Harry.

Instead of being creeped out by her, however, and pulling a confused and slightly terrified face, he laughed. And, on God, his laugh was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. This wasn’t the first time the sound of his laughter graced her eardrums, but it was the first time he was laughing because of something she said that wasn’t about crooked penises.

“Lucky me.”

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

story masterlist | my masterlist

It’s not her forte. Her hands don’t know how to hold onto things. They tremble under pressure. They mess things up no matter how hard she tries.

Not that she had really tried very hard to begin with.

Sculpting was just not something she saw herself doing. Ever. Not with her lack of agility and poor attention to detail. But to appease her whining best friend… she’d do just about anything.

The class was held in a little art studio with large windows for ventilation and tall ceilings to display the mass amounts of student artwork on butcher block shelves. She never thought she’d be back in a classroom type setting after graduating college, but here she was.

Learning, what she proclaimed as, a useless skill.

The studio was smack dab in the middle of an inclined street. Little quaint buildings that sat on an angle because why not pour foundations on a hill and make her weekly walks to the studio a little sweatier than she would have preferred. Even if it was winter in their little beach village town. Sweat still happened. It just happened underneath a scarf and a hand-knitted beanie from the sewing shop next door.

She could not deny, however, that the late afternoon classes every Wednesday and Saturday brought her way more joy than she’d anticipated. She looked forward to meeting up with Rose at the bottom-of-the-hill cafe, sharing the daily special with her before making their way up to the studio. It was calm in the middle and end of her hectic weeks that she most definitely needed.

What she didn’t need, however, what she most certainly did not look forward to, what she could have done without, what took her joy and smashed it against a wall was him.

The instructor.

Harry ‘I have nice hands and a misleading smile’ Styles.

It had only been two weeks into their classes and he had already told her one of her bowls was garbage. That the way she sculpted a face was terrifying. That she couldn’t draw for shit and that made her attempts at sculpting even worse.

So by Saturday of their second week, she didn't care anymore. He was a jerk and she would be the best pain in his ass she knew how to be.

While everyone called him Harry, like he’d asked them to the very first day, she called him Mr. Styles. Just to see the way his eyes rolled back into his head and his nostrils flared. While everyone asked him insightful questions, like what glaze was best to use or what tool sculpted eyes most efficiently, she asked him if she could use the bathroom.

She got a fucking kick out of irritating him. Knowing he went home after their classes just as irritated as she’d been. With clenched fists and a pounding headache.

It helped that he was insanely too attractive to be teaching a bunch of millennials about sculpting in his free time.

“You should really leave him alone, he might kick us out, you know,” Rose said on their first third week walk up Justice Hill. There was no justice in walking uphill, and most fucking certainly not in the humidity-ridden beachside town. She found the street name personally offensive.

“Oh fuck him. If he kicks us out, he’ll have to refund us.” Y/N did not, even for a second, bother to lower her voice as they neared the studio, knowing any one of the other students could hear her if they were to walk by.

“Refund us what? We got the class for free, remember?”

Y/N racked her brain like she’d completely forgotten that little detail before shrugging it off. “Whatever. He won’t kick us out.”

“How do you know for sure?”

Before she could make some stupid remark about how Harry secretly liked her pestering him or about how much he seemed much too impressed by Rose’s progress to ever get rid of them, the devil himself turned the corner in front of them.

He came out from an alleyway that connected the street to a tiny parking lot. And while they were going uphill, he was coming down. He was hard to miss and so were they, but still he attempted to not see them.

“What a prick,” Y/N mumbled under her breath as they got closer to each other. And almost as if he could read her lips, he rolled his eyes so fucking hard she thought maybe they’d finally pop right out of his head this time.

“Shush,” Rose warned as the three of them finally met in the middle, at the door to the studio that was decorated with a bright yellow ‘Open’ sign, children’s drawings, hand-painted hours of operation, and one too many polaroids of past students and their sculpting creations.

They all stood and stared at each other for a moment before he opened the door first, holding it as, to Y/N’s surprise, he let them go in first. And while she was still in shock at the gesture, his body language said it all. Like he was forcing himself to be nice to the dynamic duo, to the bane of his existence. While she was too distracted by Harry and his clay-stained trousers and cable-knit sweater with a cartoon deer embroidered on it, Rose walked into the studio first. Giving Harry a polite smile that he returned almost… genuinely.

And right when Y/N made a move to follow, Harry stepped in front of her. She jolted back as he just about let the door slam her in the face.

Today was going to be fantastic.

* * *

“Right, so,” Harry began, clapping his dry hands together as he took a seat behind his messy table at the front of the studio. “I know some of you haven’t finished your heads yet, but our focus today will still be on the bodies. We’ll have a catch up on Saturday to make up for it.”

Y/N sought out her head on the wall where she’d placed it last week beside Rose’s, realizing for the first time just how ugly it really was. And to think she’d been trying to sculpt Harry’s annoying face. Even more annoying that no matter what she did, he was always a lot more handsome than her hunk of polymer clay.

“... because, like I mentioned, we have special guests today who will be modeling for you.” Harry stood again while two very thin and very conventionally perfect people came out in white robes. Y/N couldn’t help but gag.

“This is Hope and Jordan.” Harry motioned as he introduced them, not getting any further in his instructions before Y/N raised her hand in the back of the class.

Rose attempted to get her to put it down, too, because Harry was clearly in the middle of something, but it didn’t really work out so well. Y/N was a stubborn son of a bitch.

“Yeah?” He pointed at her, sighing while planting his hands on his hips. He knew nothing she had to ask was going to be at all beneficial to the group.

She cleared her throat and just from the smirk on her face, he braced for impact. “Are they going to be modeling nude?”

She made just about everyone blush, except for Harry. He hated how she never took anything seriously. That the art he’d spent years perfecting enough to teach meant nothing to her. It was all just a primary school joke in her eyes.

“Yes, actually,” he answered bluntly and then returned to what he was going to say before Y/N’s interruption. “So I want everyone to get a piece of paper and while they’re modeling, do a rough sketch of what you might want the body of your sculpture to look like. The importance is to get the proportions down so that when you use the clay, you’ll know how much you’ll need for each part. Just like we did for the heads.”

Harry walked around the class once the models were stripped and the sketching began. Rose started immediately, concentration on her face as she flipped between the female model and her piece of sketchbook paper.

All Y/N had was a scratch piece of grey-toned mixed media paper she’d found laying on their table. And absolutely no clue where to even begin.

She stared at Harry instead of the naked models, watching as he helped others around the room, pointing at their sketches and where they could improve. His other hand behind his back that gave her perfect access to stare at his rings. Remembering how he’d taken them off guide their first few sculpting lessons. Remembering how his hands had so gently but so fucking firmly caressed the mound of clay into the exact shapes he wanted like he knew exactly what to do with those things.

“See it’s going just as I expected back here.” When his voice was at her ear, she jumped out of her skin and out of her daydreams. Twisting her head around to him as he stood behind her, she found him staring over her shoulder at her blank piece of paper.

She narrowed her eyes at him once she’d fully processed what he said. “Sorry I’m trying to figure out the best way to scale up that dude’s micro-cock, proportionally, if you don’t mind.”

He just about choked on his own spit, and rightfully so. But when he glanced to her eyes instead of her disappointing blank canvas, with his eyebrows furrowed and his cute little nostrils flared just the way she liked them, it was clear his reaction wasn’t for the reasons she’d intended.

He was quiet. Lips pursed, mind completely empty apart from hearing her say cock over and over again. Echoing against his skull. Making a home for itself in his hippocampus for later purposes. When he was not in a class full of students with their eyes on him, watching him get hard at the fucking way she said cock.

“Leave you to it then,” he cleared his throat and continued on.

“He may not kick us out, but killing you is still an option,” Rose whispered once Harry was a safe distance away from them.

Y/N leaned back in her seat to watch him walk down the rest of their row. His hands behind his back again, eyes wandering over shoulders.

As long as he had those rings on while he choked her out, she was okay with that.

* * *

Everyone had moved on to their bodies. Gathering the clay they needed from the front and using their sketches as guidelines to build around the pre-made wire and aluminum foil armature. Most everyone had some sort of a form being attached to the heads of their sculptures by the time Y/N even got started.

Because she decided on using Harry as reference after all and he would just not stand still.

With the models gone, they were on their own, with help from Harry of course. He played several videos and gave various demonstrations to aide them. It wasn’t supposed to be perfect, but after she gave it her all for about ten minutes, she was ready to give up. Her body looked like a very lumpy, very deformed version of Shrek.

She took a break again, watching Rose sculpt for a while instead. She watched Harry sometimes too as he walked around the class again in gloves this time. Smoothing out features and picking up tools to aid in the process of forming collarbones and wrinkles.

The studio was in its typical state of disarray. Random cups of milky water on every table, pieces of clay smushed into the tile floor, tools and used gloves strewn about with no rhyme or reason. Harry thrived in that kind of environment while Y/N well… she hated it.

She wanted organization and cleanliness. Her nine-to-five called for that kind of thing. But she was slowly getting used to it. To letting go and embracing the mess while she was here. She wasn’t the one that had to clean it all up anyways.

The only time she wasn’t daydreaming was when Harry started up their aisle again, walking in front of their table this time however. He helped a couple others at the end of their row, watched some of them work before eventually landing right in front of Rose’s station.

He cocked his head to the side while he watched her struggle to form an even pair of breasts on her headless lady. And even though Y/N was trying her best to look busy, she just couldn’t help it.

Rose handed her work in progress over to him with a frustrated huff after he offered his assistance. And like… no way was Y/N missing out on Mr. Harry fucking Styles fingering some clay into the perfect set of boobs. No way.

Especially fucking not when he removed his gloves and used those fingers in their bare glory the way she wished he’d use them someplace else. She watched while he slapped some more clay on Rose’s poor flat-chested model and proceeded to smooth it out with his expert fingertips. She watched the clay melt under his touch, watching him dip into their shared cup of water to aid the process. She looked away long enough to admire the concentration on his face, the way he bit down on his lip and furrowed his brows the way she was used to. She watched again while he fixed all of Rose’s mistakes just by gliding his thumbs over the two perfect little lumps on her sculpture that sure as hell hadn’t started out so perfectly.

She had no idea why Harry sculpting a tiny set of breasts on what would eventually become a mermaid got her so hot and bothered but… it did. It did so fucking much, she was almost salivating like a dog by the end of it, thinking about what his hands could do with the real deal. But then he handed it back to Rose with a content smile on his face and burst Y/N’s little bubble.

“Might be better,” he said softly and Rose nodded in agreement. She hadn't noticed before, but when he stood to his full height it was clear he’d been leaning over on their table. Closer to the both of them than he’d ever really been before. And she knew he was tall, taller than Rose, who was five foot seven inches herself. And not just that but his shoulders were broad and his arms were a humble amount of muscular. Almost like he was a sculptor that kneaded clay a hundred hours a week. Maybe that was why she was a soaking wet mess.

He stretched his gloves back onto his hands and glanced Y/N’s direction. Eyes going straight from her disaster of an art piece to her flushed face and back.

“Don’t even know where to start to fix yours up,” he commented while moving slightly to his right until he stood directly in front of Y/N this time.

She looked at her abomination, wondering if it would be her worst idea to push more of his buttons or not. But, she went for it anyways. Her lack of impulse control would definitely come back to bite her in the ass one day.

“It’s the penis. Still haven’t gotten that down yet.”

He nodded, amused rather than his previous reaction to her antics. “Can see that, yeah. He’s got a bit of a crooked willy there.” Harry poked at it with his index finger and she became hyper aware of his closeness this time while he leaned over her tabletop again. Because his hands were right there, almost touching her own. And they were big, bigger than she realized. She could see him perfectly through the transparent gloves, his long fingers with clipped nails at the end that were well taken care of, considering.

She would need to soak herself in holy water for a while after this.

“Oh, is that not what the male anatomy looks like?” She teased, not fully realizing they were getting along for the first time and it was because of dicks. Because she’d put an oddly shaped protrusion on her figure before she’d even done much else with the blob of clay stuck to her form.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head at her and standing up straight again. “Maybe if you paid attention when the models were out here, you’d know that.”

“Maybe if you hired someone who’s cock I could actually see from all the way back here without a fucking magnifying glass.” She was only slightly aware of how fully immersed she was in the debate over this penis.

But all he heard was cock again. She really needed to stop saying that. Because this time his mind was a little more imaginative while he stared at her lips and thought about the way she might say that on her knees in front of him.

He shook his head clear. She was an insufferable nuisance that he just barely tolerated on a good day. He didn't need her clogging up his brain with her cock talk too.

“Just fix it.” He mumbled.

She huffed when he left her to her own devices, not even bothering to offer his help, but she really shouldn’t expect any less. If he helped her, he would be doing it all for her. And that was hardly the point of taking a class to learn how to sculpt if the hot instructor was just going to do everything for you.

“Is there a reason why you’re arguing with him about penises?” Rose asked, hushing her voice around the apparently taboo word.

“It’s fun. And if I’m going to sit here in this stupid class with you I’m going to have some fun.” Y/N, on the other hand, was not hushed or subtle at all, as she ripped off the phallic piece of clay from her sculpture.

Rose cringed when she glanced past Y/N to find Harry looking right at her. He had been helping someone a few seats down and clearly not far enough away to have missed what Y/N said. All of his features drooped and he looked genuinely upset. Rose wished she could put a filter over Y/N’s mouth to save everyone from her insensitive outbursts. Especially Harry. He always tried so hard and for Y/N to brush everything off and boil it all down to a ‘stupid class�� even broke Rose’s heart a little. So she could only imagine how Harry felt.

After their typical hour and a half was up, once everyone at least had some semblance of a body minus the legs and arms, Harry called the class back to order.

“Alright, that’s time. You can put your armatures back on the shelves, carefully. As always, I’ll be around for a little while after. Have a great rest of your night, I’ll see you all on Saturday.” He finished his spiel, turning away to help clean up before a lightbulb went off in his head and his voice rang through the studio again, “Oh, and make sure you bring your sketches back with you!”

Everyone worked on cleaning up, including Harry. And while Y/N took both her and Rose’s sculptures over to their respective spots on the shelves, Rose walked up to the front of the class without any warning whatsoever.

She tapped Harry’s shoulder and watched while his smile faded just the tiniest bit after he turned to find her. That Rose’s poor face had to be associated with the thunderstorm that was Y/N.

“I just wanted to say sorry… about Y/N.” Both Rose and Harry glanced at the girl in question near the back of the studio, playing with their two sculpted bodies like they were barbie dolls. “I forced her to do this with me so she hasn’t really taken it seriously. But I’m really enjoying the class, you’re a fantastic instructor.”

His smile returned again and if he was being honest with himself, it really did make him feel better to hear her say that. He had some sort of a reasoning for Y/N’s horrible attitude and while he wished it was her apologizing and not Rose, he figured it was good enough.

“Thank you. You’re doing really well so far. I’ll see you on Saturday, yeah?”

She nodded, giving him one last polite smile before trotting back to Y/N and helping her clean up the last bits around their workstation.

“Please do not tell me you were flirting with him.” Y/N gagged, using a ball of clay to gather the little pieces spread across their table like a magnet.

“No, actually, I was apologizing to him for your behavior.”

Y/N snapped her head up, first at Rose and then Harry all the way across the room from them. “You what?”

“He’s just trying to teach and you’ve been a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N gasped in fake offense, which was actually slightly real offense. “Excuse me, he made fun of my bowl the first day, you seem to have forgotten about that.”

“A toddler could have made a better bowl than that, Y/N, and you know it.”

She frowned, grumpily averting her eyes to the table with her arms crossed over her chest like she really was a toddler.

“I’m just saying,” Rose started, a bit calmer this time, “stop pestering him.”

* * *

Y/N thought about everything Rose had said. About how much she wished she could take things seriously and not constantly get on people’s nerves all the time, but she simply did not know how to. Taking the piss out of things and making jokes was how she got through her days.

But she did agree. Harry didn’t deserve her behavior. Maybe he was a bit of a jerk to her to begin with, but insulting his class might’ve been crossing a line.

Because she didn’t actually think it was stupid. She quite enjoyed listening to him. She liked learning something new and following his instructions as he walked them through some of his techniques. She liked being connected to all the people in the little studio, even if only briefly. Complete strangers all shared that one little thing in common and it made her all fuzzy and warm inside each time she met up with Rose at the end of every Wednesday and Saturday.

Hiding behind a bit of humor, however, was a lot more comfortable than admitting she found pleasure in anything as corny as sculpting classes.

On Friday night, boredom got the best of her and she took a chance upon searching Harry’s name on Instagram while she took her weekly bath. It had been Rose’s idea, the bath, not stalking her attractive sculpting instructor online. That decision was completely her own. But the baths at the end of stressful weeks had a little influence from her best friend, as did most aspects of her life. Baths were a waste of time, in her opinion, and she preferred the efficiency of showering. But Rose had given her nice smelling soaps and weird fizzy things for bath time and well… she couldn’t let them go to waste.

So, amid her regularly scheduled, once-a-week bath, she scrolled shamelessly through Harry’s feed. Because he did, in fact, have an instagram. And she only knew it was him because every fourth post was a video and in said videos were his hands. And, fuck, they were just as nice on film as they were in person.

He didn’t post much of his face, which she thought was an actual crime, but there was a lot about him and his sculpting. She found out it had been his sister’s birthday recently, who, when she smiled, looked just like him. He’d also just finished a piece he seemed really proud of, a clay head and bust of a pit bull, to which he linked in the caption about a local shelter who rescued the breed specifically and needed donations. Her heart nearly fucking melted.

Harry wasn’t much of an open book, though, unless he let his art do most of the talking. He seemed to enjoy sculpting women the most, which is probably why he’d been so good at de-lumping the breasts on Rose’s mermaid. But all the female sculptures he made weren’t sexual at all. They had meaning behind them. Like every single clay face she clicked on throughout his photos had a story. Like he was uplifting rather than fetishizing.

And not every single one of them was skinny and had perfect features. She was shocked to see at least half of the creations she’d skimmed through were of larger women with imperfect breasts at times and asymmetrical faces. Not sticking to typical European beauty standards as she may have originally assumed he might.

It made glancing down at her very much imperfect body feel a little less like an attack. Because Harry spent his time putting all his love into his little sculptures with diverse body types that she almost felt ashamed for ever hating hers.

Once she was done clicking on just about every single post he’d ever made, she finally found a selfie. Well… not really a selfie. Someone else had clearly taken it of him candidly while he had been working. But there was an awfully cute smile on his face and very familiar dimples poking into his cheeks that make her heart warm up again.

He wasn’t a damn thing like she’d assumed he was from the beginning. She thought his art centered around the ideal, and that maybe he was a little condescending because of it. But his Instagram told a different story about his art. And she wanted to know so much more about him.

She was completely lost in her dreams about him that just the smidge of distraction led to accidentally liking a photo of his from two years prior.

She’d have to move countries. Change her name. Delete everything. Never look back. Y/N? A distant memory.

Before dropping her phone in the tub and really making a complete ass out of herself, she threw it, instead, onto her furry rug in the middle of the bathroom and sunk herself down into the water. Wondering if it would really be so bad if she just drowned a little bit.

Because she desperately wanted to. There was nothing she could do. Not even unliking the picture would help. He’d still see the notification. Still click onto her page and realize who in the fuck had just liked a two-year-old post of his that he, himself, had probably even forgotten about.

She wanted nothing more than to sink her head under the pink-tinted water and never come back up. Her mind would not stop with the visualizations of what his reaction might be. Things he might be thinking. Like is this that fucking bitch from my sculpting class? Or whether or not she might find herself blocked by morning.

God, just make it stop.

But suddenly her phone buzzed and her heart just about stopped beating. It had to be the notification that Harry blocked her. Was that even a thing? Did Instagram notify you if someone blocked you? And why was her phone on silent? Because her Instagram notifications and her text messages made very different sounds. If it was just a text, she’d consider ignoring it. She’d continue marinating in all her shame a little while longer. But it ate her alive not knowing what the buzzing was from.

So, carefully, she pulled herself upright and reached across the floor until she had her phone in her hand. Before she clicked the screen on, though, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

But when she opened her eyes and found out why her phone had buzzed, she let that breath out and settled her ass down again. It was Rose.

Hey, I can’t make it tomorrow for class. Felt like absolute shit at work today and had to go home because as it turns out I have the flu.

“Fuck,” Y/N mumbled to herself. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go alone because facing Harry after she just did what she did was one thing, but doing it all by herself was another. But a part of her did still want to go tomorrow. The part before her horrific accident when she was full on getting a love boner over Harry. She’d wanted to see him again so fucking bad.

Okay. I probably won’t go too then

Y/N physically frowned at the idea of waiting another five days to see Harry again. Her brain really needed to make its fucking mind up about him. Did she want to see him or not?

No! You have to go and tell me what I missed!

Y/N rolled her eyes, but felt relieved. Even after her embarrassing slip up, her desire to see Harry again still prevailed. And she hated it. How was she even supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, both of them knowing damn well she’d been stalking his Instagram back to two fucking years ago?

* * *

It was beyond weird sitting in their usual cafe on Justice Hill alone, even without the whole Instagram fiasco of the previous night she was trying everything in her power to forget about.

However all the desperate attempts to bury that awful experience were fruitless when she glanced across the room over her latte and found a very familiar set of grumpy-looking eyes already staring at her. But once she did notice him, he immediately looked away, stepping up to the counter to order his own cup of coffee.

She nearly choked on her drink, having to set it down and wipe what had spilled onto her chin off with a napkin she’d already used to sop up another one of her messes.

Of the three weeks now they’d been going to classes and frequenting the cafe just before, she’d never seen Harry. It was like he didn’t have a life outside being an instructor. He just popped up in the studio and she always left before him so she had no idea what he did after class either.

But seeing him here was like seeing a fucking unicorn in real life.

She couldn’t help watching him either, even if she knew she shouldn't. But, in her defense, he was wearing beautiful wine-colored corduroy pants with a tight white t-shirt tucked into them and a beige coat thrown over his arm to match. And for shoes he had on his usual white vans that had gained a few more scuff marks since the last time she’d seen him. His fashion would look terrible on anyone besides him.

He glanced her way again, briefly, when he left the counter with his cup, fighting his legs from walking in her direction but not exactly winning that battle.

And to her surprise, he stood right in front of her, behind the chair where Rose usually sat.

And when she looked up at him, he completely forgot why he had come over. He had no fucking clue what he was doing there. But it was too late now for him to back away and pretend like it never happened.

“Your friend's not coming?” His voice shook, but she didn’t notice with the way he finally took his fucking eyes off of her and gave her a chance to breathe again. He glanced at his watch just to confirm that it was, in fact, only five minutes until class started and it seemed reasonable to assume Rose wasn’t meeting her before then.

She pulled herself together and pretended like his close presence wasn’t intimidating her in the slightest.

“Disappointed?” She tilted her head, smirking at him. She had no right to think he liked her better than Rose. She, herself, liked Rose better too. So she was sure he had to be at least a little bit sad to see Rose missing.

He smiled and the second she saw those dimples she was reminded of his Instagram all over again.

“A little,” he nodded, pinching his thumb and index finger together in the air and she painfully agreed.

“Well, you get me all by myself tonight.” She didn’t realize how it sounded until it was too late. Until she was cringing at all the sexual insinuations she’d just made for absolutely no reason. She could have said something else that wasn’t laced in an innuendo. But no, of course not. She had to continue her embarrassing streak when it came to Harry.

Instead of being creeped out by her, however, and pulling a confused and slightly terrified face, he laughed. And, on God, his laugh was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. This wasn’t the first time the sound of his laughter graced her eardrums, but it was the first time he was laughing because of something she said that wasn’t about crooked penises.

“Lucky me.”

He left her so fucking speechless, that after he started backing away from her table, reminding her to not be late, she still ended up being late. Because she sat in her chair for what felt like a century repeating his two words over and over again in her head.

Lucky me.

She knew he was only teasing but the way he’d just gone along with her original joke and how his voice sounded when he said it, she could not believe it. She could also not believe how Harry had some kind of massive hold on her that she sat staring at a wall for ten minutes trying to figure out how to operate properly again just to get up out of her chair.

Lucky fucking me.

She could scream.

If she wasn’t in public.

There was an extra pep in her step as she took Justice Hill alone this time, partially because of how giddy Harry had made her and partially because she was late… right after he told her not to be. But how was she supposed to be on time after what he’d just done to her emotions. And to the throbbing mess between her legs, but that's another story entirely.

Everyone was all over the place when she’d finally arrived, though, so it made slipping in the back that much easier. Not that she got past Harry’s watchful eyes, though, but at least she wasn’t interrupting anything while the class readied their workstations for another full night of going ham on their sculptures.

Harry kept his eyes on her mostly the entire time she did the same at her empty little area, watching as she tucked her purse under the desk for safekeeping and threw a couple tools he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her use onto the table. When she wandered off to the wall of shelves to retrieve her absolutely horrifying work of art, he finally gave her some privacy again. But he couldn’t help the fact that he’d been worried sick when she didn’t show up on time after he’d just seen her at the cafe, thinking something horrible could have happened to her between there and here.

So making sure she was unscathed before he, too, got his area organized was essential.

She sat in her chair and stared at what she had made the past three weeks. They’d started with something simple on the first day, taking a pre-cut slice of clay and free-handing a bowl with a few tips from Harry thrown in here and there. Then they jumped straight in after he showed them a few clips of sculptors working, pausing to explain specific things about creating a head and face. They were given everything they needed to make sculpting a complete figurine of a human body as easy as possible.

And still, she managed to create a combination of Shrek and the abominable snowman.

She huffed, wondering if she asked nicely enough Harry would let her just start all over. But before she could even think to do so, he clapped his hands together and got everyone’s attention for today’s mini-tutorial.

He explained smoothing to them and how there were many different ways of doing it so that your end results weren't littered in fingerprints. He reminded them to use water to smooth out the initial shapes of the clay they wanted and if they were having a really hard time with too much warmth from their fingers to use the gloves.

He ventured a little into detail work of the bust, showing a short clip of another artist forming collar bones with just two tools and her fingers. He explained what tools those were and why they were the most efficient for details and went on some more about other detail tools that were good for different things.

And the entire time she was far too lost in his voice and how his eyes lit up passionately when he rambled to even think about the fact that she wasn’t taking a single note for Rose’s sake.

They’d done a few lessons on details for the face, but they had yet to really get that far, only having put on tentative eyelids, lips and a nose for their heads before he really dove deep into details in what she assumed would be a full class later on.

And when he finally took a break to ask for any questions, she was, of course, the first to raise her hand. He thought about ignoring it, knowing all too well that anytime Y/N raised her hand in the back of his classroom, she was up to no good. But he was too nice to do that to anyone, even her.

So he called on her by nodding his head and she cleared her throat while he grimaced, expecting the worst.

“So, um, for example if we were going to do bigger details like abs on a male figure, what would be the best tool for that?”

He could have sworn he was having a heart attack. He had to blink a few times just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She was actually asking him a legitimate question, and a good one at that. He had to repeat what she said in his head first, just to make sure it was real, before he answered, completely unprepared.

“Um… well after you lay out the clay where you want on the body, you can use one of the knives to blend the edges,” he held up an example of one for her, “and then a large ball or oval tool like this,” he held up another, “to smooth everything out. You’d probably want a more blunt pointed end to shape them, though, after you blend the clay in.”

She nodded like she’d been fully absorbing every single word coming out of his mouth and then he watched as she dug around quietly in the tool kit on her desk, in search of the types of tools he’d mentioned.

He could not fucking believe it though. She finally showed a stitch of interest in learning about sculpting. And he had no idea why she decided to right now. Maybe it was because she was without her partner in crime, but either way he was stunned. Absolutely fucking marveled.

After a few more questions and some demonstrations, he let everyone go and continue working on their projects while he circled the room as he normally did. And he found himself glancing at her from time to time, all by herself in the back with a genuine look of concentration on her face as she attempted making her creature a little less loch ness monster and a little more human.

Eventually, after he figured she was giving it enough effort for him to step in and help if she needed, he headed her way. And just as she sensed him walking down her aisle, while she was busy shaving off clay, a piece of it went flying into the air, completely out of control.

He stopped in his tracks after almost being smacked in the face with a chunk of clay and bent over to pick it up before someone squished it into the bottom of their shoes. He leaned over the edge of the table in front of her again, setting the piece of clay down next to her gently while she bit her lips between her teeth and tried to hide her embarrassed red cheeks behind her hands.

“Sorry!” She squealed at him, further digging herself into a hole.

He shook his head, “S’alright. Not the first time that’s happened.”

She laughed at the thought of him actually getting hit in the money maker with a hunk of clay and it eased her worries a little.

“So how are those abs going then?” He asked.

She stared at her sculpture for a moment before she sighed and turned it around to face him. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before, but it was still pretty rough.

“Mind if I…?” He held his hands out and she, without a single hesitation, handed it over to him.

He immediately grabbed the shaving tool she’d been using, and since it still sat next to her where she’d put it down moments ago, his fingers brushed against her hand when he picked it up. Sending every one of her nerves in the general area on a field day to mess with her nether regions again. It’s just… his fucking hands were an art form in and of themselves. His knuckles prominent, stretching soft skin around the bone. His veins protruding every time he made a more delicate move that required precision. Even the ones on his arms underneath the ink when he was a bit more rough with her sculpture sent her over the moon, while he shaved off bits and pieces with firm pressure to define the shape of the body and somehow create a human-like figure from her mess.

Then he started smoothing down the surface with a little water on his fingers and she went batshit. His hands while dry were one thing, but sparkling, wet, slippery fingertips? Lord have mercy.

She watched him spread a chunk of extra clay onto what would be the figure’s chest to build it up a little more with the knowledge of their previous conversations about dicks and abs making it clear she was attempting to make a male figure. She couldn’t help but watch his muscles flex underneath his tight white t-shirt. From far away across the cafe it had caught her attention. And now right here, she was definitely not letting it go unnoticed. It wasn’t too tight that he looked ridiculous, but just the right amount to show off every curve of his biceps and triceps and whatever other -ceps he had hiding underneath the shirt. He was normally in oversized tops so she was taking full advantage while she still had the chance to.

When he handed it back to her, it was like he’d done some kind of magic spell to get it to look so good after what she’d given him to work with. He leaned forward a little more and pointed at the figure’s chest and she was only halfway paying attention to him when he spoke, mostly focusing on how close he was and every single time he accidentally brushed his skin against hers.

“So if you want to make the abs,” he paused to glance over and dig through her pile of tools until he found the one he was looking for. “Use this to kind of sketch out the shape like we did with the faces,” he took the ball tool and rolled it down the middle of the chest, making a short indent to separate where the pectorals might be, “then you can add on the dimension like I was saying earlier.”

She took over the tool when he flipped it around and gave it to her so she could try for herself. And he watched for a short while as she did what he said to do, sketching out tentative abs, but not really knowing exactly what they looked like to come to any sort of realistic end. Her figure started to look like a shirtless Johnny Bravo.

He just giggled and pointed his stupid finger back into her personal space, smoothing down her mistakes until they disappeared, “Have you never seen a six-pack that wasn’t on a cartoon character?”

She racked her brain, trying to say something funny, but once she looked into his eyes, nothing came to mind. “Of course I have. I just don’t know how to make them look realistic.” She couldn’t exactly remember the last time she’d been faced with a naked man’s chest, but she had seen them before.

“Well…” Harry sighed, resting his head on his hand and staring at her sculpture sideways, “he doesn’t have to have abs.”

And then she said it. Something worse than her earlier set of words back at the cafe. She had no clue what was going on with her tonight, but she needed an ass-kicking for it.

“Do you have abs?”

“Me?” His eyes flickered up to hers in shock and it was far too late for her to backtrack, she was here and she had to face what she’d done. Even while he looked at her like she was fucking insane.

“Uh, well. I mean…” She had no fucking clue what she meant. And even if she did, she sure as shit wasn’t telling him.

Then it clicked in his brain. “You’re not using me as reference, are you?”

After a solid three seconds of just staring at him, she laughed. “No, of course not.”

“Hope so after you gave him that wonky penis.”

She sighed once they were through it. Once he’d proved, yet again, that he didn’t make her embarrassing statements feel as bad as they really were. He kind of just... went along with it.

But then she made it even worse.

“So yours isn’t wonky and crooked, then?”

Jesus, fuck Y/N just shut up.

His smile never faded, however, and instead, he leaned close again and whispered, “Maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to find out.”

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #sculptor!harry

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tlou-1 · 3 years

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Joel Miller x Reader (Home) Chapter 20

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13| Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 TBA

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Chapter 20 - Joel still hasn't returned from patrol, you set off after him and what you find is beyond what you could have worried about.

You look at the clock again, 11:15 and still Joel wasn’t back. You had been pacing the kitchen with Patrick playing at your feet, Joel was over an hour late. Another half an hour passed and you couldn’t sit in the house any longer. You picked up Patrick and made your way to Maria’s post for the day in town, “Maria it’s been two hours and none of them are back. Looks at the clouds out there, somethings wrong I can just feel it” You plead with her but she just says they have probably bunkered down with the snow, “and nothing on the radio either?” You ask, she shakes her head. Right that settled it, you turned and made your way to your sisters. Before Molly could greet you as she opened the door you began “Joel has been out since dark this morning and still isn’t back. I need you to take Patrick for me”, you try to hand him to her but she says “No”, there is a pause for a moment “No? What do you mean No, Molly I really need” but she interrupts you by grabbing a jacket and locking her door, “Because I am coming with you. We can drop him off at the day care”.

You and Molly try to sneak into the stables to retrieve a horse each but of course Maria had you sussed and was waiting for you. “Maria I need to go out there, I know it sounds crazy but I have a bad feeling” you argue.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy“ she responds, she was always so set on rules.

“Do you know what, maybe it does but it’s your husband out there as well. Tell me you aren’t worried about them being out there with no sleep, in a blizzard with reports of hoards of infected. I am more capable than most folk in this town and I am going out there” you say sternly close to her face and she knew you were not going to budge.

“Okay” she concedes and proceeds to pass you the reigns of the horse and your bag back filled with your gear. “I cant spare many folks to go out with you, Jesse, Dina and Ellie are already out there you can meet them at one of the posts” she explains. Jesus now your worry turned to them but your line of thought is interrupted by the radio, it was Jesse. “Maria, Tommy and Joel didn’t show to trade off” he explained. You take the radio from Maria, “Jesse its Y/N, where were they patrolling? Can you get, Ellie and Dina and meet me there?” You ask, he agrees to your plan. Your sister in laws body language had changed during the exchange.

“We need to go now” you shout to Molly as your get on your horse and take off. Behind you Molly is following and Maria had saddled up obviously now sharing in your worry.

The wind and snow was harsh and whipped at your face as you rode ahead as fast as the horse would carry you, you must have been not far behind Ellie now. Neither Joel or Tommy’s had been at their post but their tracks had led you to a Chalet you had visited a couple of times on patrols. As you approached closer you could see more than two sets of tracks, they were disrupted slightly from the storm but there was defiantly a number of different footprints, other people were here. You had to be smart about this, the rest of the guys were still a bit behind you. You move into the building as quietly as possible and have to take out one guy standing watch at a patio door, he had a fresh cut right across his face. If anyone finds him they will know someone else is here, you had to move swiftly. As soon as enter the lodge you can hear cries of pain, guttural cries. It makes your stomach churn, you were right to have had a bad feeling. One more girl is pacing in the kitchen, you silence her by taking your small knife down on her. It had been a number of years since you had taken the life of a living person but you didn’t hesitate after hearing those cries.

You follow the cries to a narrow staircase with a door at the bottom of it, you could feel your heart in you mouth as you took each step closer to the door. You peer through the slight crack and see a group of unfamiliar people and a figure standing above a bloody one. You take a breath remember where each person was standing, attach your silencer and pushing open the door quietly, you take out the three people closest to the door, one dead ahead the other two to your right side. You were still one of the best shots without a doubt, maybe just as good as Tommy. There were three left by the time they realised what had happened and your presence, a young man standing next to a women with cropped dark hair and a large women standing above the bloody figure, it was Joel along with Ellie and Tommy unconscious.

The man goes to grab a pistol, lying next to the body of one of the men you just shot and without hesitation you reach round to your backpack pocket. Thank god it was still there.

“Don’t any of you fucking move, or I will blow up everyone of us in this room” you spit out as you hold the grenade in their sight. They each stop in their tracks and the large girl standing above your husband loosens her grip on club. Joel tires to speak but barely a sound escapes his lips.

“You’re bluffing, why would y-“ she begins.

“Try me”, you challenge her and there is a long pause “You let them go… you leave here and everyone gets to walk away from this or every single one of us just end it here”. This was madness but what other chance had you got, either way the people you loved could wind up dead, the only thing to stop these strangers was the threat of loosing their own lives and if it meant you went with them, so be it.

“No, not him, not after what he did.” The girl lifted the club but you jump in “What ever he did, I am walking out of here with him, our daughter and that other man alive or none of us are”

“He took everything from us! Killed my father, ruined any chance of a cure” the women says lowly shaking her head.

“You’re fireflies?” You ask looking around at them but you already know the answer from what she had said.

“Were. There are none, left he made sure of that. Killed most of us.” She answers. You speak without thinking, a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t blame him… Protecting her, I would have done the same. They were going to butcher the brain of a child, our daughter for the smallest chance of cure. If that’s the price for a potential cure and humanity were so eager and willing to pay it, we didn’t deserve it. I know that much.”

She looks like she has seen red and goes to lift the club again but before she can send it crashing down one of the fireflies, the man stops her and you have pulled the pin on the grenade keeping your finger firmly pressed on the clip as he intervenes.

“Abby stop! She is going to kill all of us” he pleads with her looking between Abby and the women behind him with cropped dark hair that he called Mel. Your hand is shaking from your firm grip on the clip.

“Are you insane?” The man asked, “When it comes to my family, yes” You reply looking down at Joel and Ellie.

“Figures, crazy man, crazy wife” scoffs the other woman says looking between you and Joel.

“Don’t fucking touch him. I am giving you all a chance, take it. If I let go of this clip, dead or alive it only takes two seconds for this thing to go off”. You try sounding as calm as possible and it seems to pay off but inside your terrified more than you had ever been. In your head you pray, you had never prayed in your life, for them to leave, for the woman to put down the club, for them not to shoot you, for this bomb to be a dud like Joel had said but for them to not find out it was.

You can hear commission from upstairs as the rest of the search party have caught up with you, you had bought all the time you needed. Owen grabs Mel by the arm and leaves through garage door.

“You should go with your friends”

Abby looks torn for a moment her eyes fixed on Joel before she flings the golf club to her side and takes off, on horse back alongside her friends but you felt this part of the past would rear its ugly head again.

As soon as it sounds clear you carefully place the pin back in the grenade and fall to the floor, guess you will never know if it was a dud or you almost killed everyone in this room. Ellie is still breathing but bruised, you look across at Tommy, the same. Your husband, you crawl across to Joel, the ground around him covered in blood you can feel it soaking your jeans.

“Jesus, Joel can you hear me?” you say softly, tears in your eyes from the sight of him. His right eye swollen, strips of blood pouring down his face from a couple gashes he had taken on the head. You were worried to touch him in case it caused any more pain, it was hard to look at him like this.

“You got to stay with me, you cant leave me, you hear? You promised” you cry just as Maria, Jesse, Dina and Molly enter the room.

“Holy Fuck” Jesse whispers. You beg them to help Joel, Dina checks on Ellie who is starting to gain consciousness along with Tommy.

“The storm has almost passed, Jesse and Dina find something we can make a stretcher out of. We can strap it to one of the horses and pull him back”. Maria says at her husbands side, it was the best anyone could do in the dead of winter. No one even thought about going after the remaining three strangers, what was important was the three people who each of you loved in this room.

You rode behind Jesse who’s horse is pulling Joel the entire trip, he sometimes groans or shifts and all you want to do is ask to stop and let him rest but there was no time for it, you had to get back as swiftly as possible. As soon as you arrive back in Jackson men are there to carry Joel’s stretcher into the surgery, you follow behind asking Dr Henry if he would be okay. She didn’t respond focusing solely on Joel, she tells you to stay in the hallway and when you start to protest and push forward Jesse is there pulling you back and when you stop fighting him into a hug. You finally let out a cry from everything, the horror of what you had seen, what you had almost done and at the thought of your husband’s life still hanging in the balance. Everything goes to black for a moment.

*NOTES - I have to say I found this one pretty difficult to write so I apologise if it doesn't land as well as the other chapters. There is just so much that happens. I have decided to deviate slightly from the game, we have all seen the dark ending for Joel in the game so lets try something different

#the last of us fanfic #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #Joel Miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #tloufanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #Ellie Williams #ellie x joel #tlou ellie #tlou dina #tlou jesse

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torikengel · 4 years

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Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 7)

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It was like all of Thomas’s negative thoughts, and insecurities were swept away by this kiss. For the first time in his whole life, he felt accepted the way he was.

When your lips parted, you were both panting, desperate for air. You absentmindedly lost yourself in his eyes again. You were so captivated by this man, but so was he, completely smitten. You were speechless, but this wasn’t that awkward silence. It was a blissful and quiet moment in a small paradise you two created like the world, and time itself didn’t exist. Thomas was still cautious about his emotions as he was used to everyone stabbing him the back, sometimes literally. But your honest touch, the gentle expression on your face whenever you looked at him. Your words weren’t just empty lies after all, even if you yourself didn’t realize it and thought that you were just trying to survive.

Thomas put his mask into the pocket of his apron. Then he grabbed your hand and led you away from the house into the fields. You didn’t need to talk; you saw everything important in each other’s eyes. You observed the nature around you, basking in the sun. It felt so nice to be outside again. Thomas’s attention was captured by your beautiful h/c hair whirling in the wind. Why did everything about you had to be so dazzling, while he was just plain ugly, Thomas wondered. When you walked so far that the house was out of sight, Thomas stopped. He didn’t really know what to do with you. You looked around to inspect the wheat fields around you and then glanced back at Thomas.

“It’s lovely here. Thank you so much for taking me outside.” You inhaled the fresh air with a big smile on your face and clasped your hands together while unintentionally moving Thomas’s hand too. “Oh… right.” You said when you realized that you were still cuffed. Thomas let out a sorrowful groan. He contemplated whether to let you leave or not… but it would put his family in danger while causing him pain. He didn’t want you to leave. However, he also wanted you to be with him, because you enjoy it, not because Hoyt kidnapped you.

But you weren’t thinking about escaping at that moment; you knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and guilt for wanting to run away still haunted you in the back of your mind. Your brain couldn’t decide if Thomas was your captor or protector. Your logic told you that he’s a dangerous murderer, but your feelings made you sympathize with him and feel safe around him.

“Thomas?” you looked at him and raised your eyebrow. “So, what are we gonna do?” you asked as you knew that you two couldn’t really talk. Thomas shrugged. You got him. He didn’t have any plan and was starting to get flustered. “Hmm…” you glanced at the ground and then let yourself just fall, expecting Thomas to fall as well and make it into a cute moment between you two… but you miscalculated his size in comparison to yours, which resulted in only you falling and twisting your arm in a weird position while the cuff cut into your already damaged skin. “Oh fuck!” you cursed as pain shot through your arm. Thomas, baffled by whatever was it that you just tried to accomplish, kneeled, to relieve the pressure off your arm. “That hurt…” you whimpered, examining the injury. “I am stupid, aren’t I?” you exclaimed in disappointment. Thomas just chuckled and sat beside you, shaking his head. He didn’t think that. Thomas believed that everything you did was adorable in a way. Then he carefully checked your wrist and rolled his eyes. He didn’t like you being hurt. “I am sorry for making you worry about it, I am okay.” You tried to console him. But he took a small key out of his pocket and uncuffed you to stop the cuff from rubbing into your skin more. Now…

Your chance…

Freedom…

Run...

RUN!

Your heart started beating faster than ever before, and as adrenaline rushed through your veins, you were prepared to run for it with all your strength. You were so lost in your thoughts about the freedom that before you managed even to stand up, Thomas held your injured hand and kissed your bruised wrist. Your resolve crumbled. You were completely frozen. You just couldn’t move a single muscle. Thomas was scared… deep inside, he was trembling. The thought of you just suddenly running away, the picture of him chasing and killing you. His heart just needed one signal, and it would shatter. In the end, you just let yourself fall on your back and lie down on the field. It was the only thing you could’ve done. This might’ve been the only chance to go back home, yet your feelings decided to screw you over. But what was bothering you the most wasn’t the fact that you didn’t even manage to try… it was the reality of you not regretting it.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and onto the ground as you were just blankly staring at the sky, your body shaking. You didn’t understand anything that was happening and not even yourself. There was a battle going on inside your mind. Thomas only managed to stare at you, completely stunned. He couldn’t grasp what just happened, even though he was relieved that he didn’t have to hurt you… or was he? Could he actually hurt you? He was even more lost than before as he never felt something like this before. In the past, he would just butcher everyone who came his way to be useful for his family. Basically, his whole life, he was a mere tool. Now he wanted something for himself, he wanted to feel like a human for once, and you were the one who could give it to him.

You wanted to blame him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to… you were sympathizing with him way too much… and you were thankful that he spared you. That was probably a foolish and dangerous mindset, but you couldn’t do anything about it as your logic succumbed to your emotions.

After analyzing the situation for a while, Thomas wiped your tears with his thumb, his eyes fixated on yours. He was gentle. So gentle. He made it so hard for you to hate him.

You smiled at him, but he could see the sorrow in your eyes. But then you decided to sit up again and desperately crawled onto his lap. You needed to reassure yourself that it wasn’t such a bad decision to stay… he would’ve probably killed you anyway if you tried to run. You settled your mind with that thought and justified your actions to calm yourself. Sure, you are just trying to survive after all, or at least you were trying to convince yourself that it was like that. Thomas wrapped his big arms around you and held you close to him. You buried your face in his chest and closed your eyes. Suddenly, you felt so safe and happy, he was like your sanctuary. *

* You were sitting in a close embrace for a very long time. It was so peaceful, and you appreciated the nature around you. The Hewitt residence was filthy, and… well, it had a weird atmosphere to it. Thomas caressed your hair with such tenderness always looked at you, fascinated by your features. What would his life be like if he had smooth skin like you? Or a beautiful face? It was weird to feel the wind on his bare face because he didn’t take his mask off outside. He didn’t mind people being disgusted by his mask… but his face? That was a completely different thing. He was super self-conscious about it.

When you finally gained the courage to look at him, he instinctively hid his face with his hands.

“You don’t have to do that…” you whispered and tried to pull his arms away. You wouldn’t have a chance if he insisted on keeping them in place, but he let you move them.

“I really think you are handsome, Thomas.” You smiled and added as you realized that your eyes were all puffy and your face red. “I probably look so bad right now.” Thomas shook his head in disagreement and took your cheeks into his palms. Were you lying to him to make fun of him? You couldn’t mean that… he was handsome, and you looked bad? No way you were telling the truth. But before his insecurities could get the best of him, you leaned towards him and gave him a peck on his lips. Thomas immediately blushed as his heart started racing. It was always like a first kiss all over again for him. He couldn’t believe that it wasn’t just a dream.

“I mean it, trust me.” You giggled as you moved away again.

Thomas felt like crying again, even though he didn’t in the end. You brought up all of the memories from his childhood and teen years. The time was moving by so fast, and you didn’t realize you spent so many hours outside.

“Maybe we should head back…your family will be worried.” You said with a said sad face, but Thomas nodded. When you stood up, you looked at your arms again. You were still free… maybe you could…

“Thomas? Can you please cuff me again?” you raised your arm towards him. He was surprised that you so deliberately let him do it. You needed him to… or else you would feel guilty for not running away. Like this, you could fool yourself into believing that it wasn’t your choice to stay… or you would end up crazy. * * The peaceful moment of you two walking back, holding hands, was mercilessly shattered by a figure standing in front of the house. When you got closer, you could see Hoyt standing on the porch with a gun in his hand.

a/n: This is getting interesting. What is that Hoyt planning for you, I wonder... Fun fact: I literally tied my wrist to sth that would be in a similar position as Thomas’s hand and then fell :D It really does hurt, wtf.

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whyjm · 3 years

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Why I did not like the Spn finale

This is gonna be a long post..

I cannot get over my thoughts about how it ended and how bad I feel about it. I am so angry, sad and feel so utterly disappointed, I cannot wrap my mind around how this was supposed to be a satisfying tying up emotional archs ending??? Bc it was so far away from satisfying I would laugh if I was not presently crying over it..

There are several things that irked me a lot. Many people have voiced the problems of this show and its ending much more eloquently than I will ever be able to do.. But I gotta get these fucking thoughts and feelings out of my system.

I have been with Spn since the first episode aired. I am a straight woman, I don’t have to fight for representation, I don’t have to worry about coming out and being accepted for who I am, I don’t have the daily struggles of feeling anxious or depressed or suicidal or not being able to be who I am. I am lucky that way!

To me love is love and all love should be equal! And I stand with all who struggle and all who are not free to be who they are. I see you and I love you and I support you fully!!!

To see my friends having to fight, and then on top of that have a show that has meant so much to so many people be butchered and have a negative last message sent out, in its last 36 minutes of its life … It is a hard pill to swallow.

Cas and Dean

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In 15x18 we got to have a beautiful confession from Cas to Dean where Cas tells Dean he loves him and we know this is romantic love bc Cas begins by saying that the one thing I want I know I can’t have and then later I love you. Also Misha confirming it! This scene made me ugly cry so hard bc FINALLY.. (BUT what is missing from it.. the editing is strange.. bc Cas pushes Dean to the right but he falls to the left. Dean has no tears in his eyes while he looks straight at Cas when he talks, but he has tears in his eyes when he looks over his shoulder and see the empty. So what in this scene has been cut away and WHY?) Misha and Jensen did a great job with this and Cas got to find peace in just speaking his truth... And it was beautiful to watch and after having seen Dean sitting sobbing on the floor the natural and logical continuation of this would have been to in the next episode address this, but in episode 19 no such thing happened. And I wondered where did Dean’s grief go where did his CARE for Cas go?? Dean who has been depressed and suicidal when Cas have died before is all of sudden cold and act like nothing have happened at least nothing that affected him very deeply.. It felt disconnected and strange. And it continued on like that and it felt very strange to NOT address such a HUGH plot point. It’s not enough to have Dean say to Chuck to bring Cas back or to see him wasted out of his mind, or hugging a dog like his emotional wellbeing depends on it.. This is not resolution or addressing it.

All of season 15 has felt like the relationship between Cas and Dean has been in focus and important to the overall arch of the season, and explored and then all of a sudden all traces of it are just ripped away, erased completely.. To have a confession like this go unacknowledged to me is poor writing bc you do not leave this big of a thing hanging in the air without resolution (fine you can argue Cas got resolution but I feel that no Cas did not get resolution either bc his feelings SHOULD have gotten a response no matter what that response was.. Dean did not, we never got to hear or see his version or his thoughts about it.)

I was thinking narratively they HAVE to address this, Deans thoughts and reactions to this gotta be shown. They HAVE to resolve this, acknowledge it. I have been sure a long time they would NEVER have Dean reciprocate Cas love but keep it in subtext bc they are too fucking chickenshit to do that but at least have Dean talk about Cas….. that I expected him to do.. But it was not done in 19. I got the horrible feeling in my gut that they are not gonna resolve this they are gonna fuck this up, they are gonna go full brothers only and not give a fuck they are gonna push Cas out and show no care. Then we come to the final episode and boy howdy is there a lot to unpack with this episode.

(I had watched the long road home before the finale and when I watched that I KNEW that the end was going to be a letdown I felt it in all of me that I was gonna be disappointed. And I was proven right. And I have so many thoughts all jumbled up around each other that I don’t know in which end to start so sorry if what follows is incoherent and rambly.. )

15x20 - The end

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20 felt like a FILLER episode, right up until Dean’s death scene I was bored and was seriously considering turning my computer of and just not watch. (A finale should be as engaging and emotionally packed like episode 18 was. I refuse to acknowledge 20 as the end.. To me it ended on 19. That wrapped things up. Not completely satisfying but hell of a lot better than the disaster that 20 is.) But then Dean was impaled on that rusty spike thingy and I was watching with attention. I GET why they did Deans death the way they did, even if that is one shitty death for Dean and could have been fixed so he did not die.. I get what they wanted to get out of it: a brothers sad moment that they turned into a irksome thing. I actually cringed about the head thing and the hands and the farming of it all just urgh I got sick to my stomach watching that. What should have been a beautifully sad moment was put together in a romantic coded way and that to me ruined the heartfelt goodbye. Bc you do not touch and hold a dying family member like that. I KNOW I have said goodbye to my fair share of loved ones that I have loved soo deeply, but the thought of touching like that NO no way.. And also they have NEVER done that forehead touch in previous deaths, so to do this now just felt irksome.

They killed Dean a character that has struggled his whole life with being daddy’s blunt little instrument, who has self-worth issues and are suicidal, who has never lived for his own sake but have only ever lived to protect and raise another, he continues to put others before himself though (up until the last couple of seasons where we have seen them both break away from this toxic behavior). Finally he was allowed to LIVE and have a life that was not controlled, not running in a hamster wheel like a fucking puppet on a string. He was Free of all of that. He was free to go after what HE wanted for himself and what Dean wanted was LOVE, in my mind its perfectly clear that Dean loves Cas back bc that is what the story have been telling us.. its right there and the story do not make sense without it. Many others have done a great job at talking about this and describe this way better than me. So I leave further discussion about that topic to them.

Dean was looking for a job. The angel Dean has loved since purgatory told him that he loved him and then died sacrificing himself to SAVE Dean yet again and then Dean dies a few days later.. How is this doing justice to Dean and what the hell kind of message does this send out to the ones watching?? They are saying it does not matter if you fight, your destiny is written for you and the only relief and comfort you will have will be death. They are saying Meh don’t fight it’s better to die bc it does not matter what you do. This is one of the fucked up messages this godawful ending sent to all those who have identified with Dean and Cas throughout the years.

They also say Cas who has been part of the story for 12 years is not important enough to have there, they IGNORED Cas, a mention in passing does not do justice to a character that has been crucial to the boys lives for 12 years. Dean Screamed in Sam’s face CAS IS FAMILY, Dean was destroyed when Cas died, he was hurt when Cas left bc everyone leaves Dean, Sam missed Cas etc… but still not important enough to show up in heaven in the last episode greeting first Dean and then Sam to heaven.. PFT…

To leave Cas and Misha out of the FINALE of a show that he has been part of for 12 years is so fucking disrespectful to Cas, to Misha and ALL the fans who love and adore both. It also makes no sense since they all say how beloved Cas and Misha are. and don’t go fucking covid made it impossible bc the last scene with all those people without masks.. No that is just lying liars who lie…Covid my ass! This angers me a lot.

Family do end in ONLY blood apparently…..

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(And maybe lead to a lot of viewers for walker??? hence this very nice shirltess Sam scene............. ) shirtless Sam is always good though so no complaining here.

We see Sam and the dog give Dean a hunters funeral.. NO OTHERS are there? How is it possible that none of the found family wouldn’t want to be there and show up?? Jack has restored everyone but still only Sam and the dog are there, no Eileen, no Jody and the girls, Donna, Garth, and the list goes on and on. Bc they wanna hammer in harder that supernatural has ever only ever been about two brothers and no one else matters ever.. It does not matter that this has not been true since the earlier seasons. The show of course is about Sam and Dean’s lives and journey through life, and I have loved to follow along on their journey. BUT it was a long time ago this was the ONLY thing that mattered (bc if it had only been about the brothers the show would NOT have gone on for this long). Along the way they have picked up FOUND Family, and the message of the show has been Family don’t end in blood, Always Keep Fighting. But this last episode reverted back to season 1 and disregarded ALL character growth and storytelling of the past 12 years and went with fuck it ONLY Sam and Dean are important. So the next fucked up message they sent where: There is no Family don’t end in blood.. The only family that matters is blood. And then they have the balls to say Always Keep Fighting.. Are they fucking kidding????

Character development…….. who????

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Sam lives on after Dean dies and we get a montage of his life where he look miserable and is shown to not being able to get over that Dean died. We get a blurry wife and a kid named Dean. In his house there are photos of ONLY himself, Dean and their parents and maybe one of his son? Don’t remember all the details and refuse to watch that episode ever again. But no friends, no family, no happy moments are shown, it looked like a very lonely life. He dies with only his son there.. WHERE are Sam’s friends??? This montage of Sam’s supposed happy life is NOT happy bc he is not able to get over that Dean is dead, he can’t live a happy life bc Dean is not there - again something that irked me and felt disrespectful to all the growth Sam and Dean have gone through. It was toxic codependency all the way through and that is not satisfying to watch. Especially since the brothers had actually broken that dependency. Sam had broken free, Sam have through the years wanted to get away from Dean and live his life as he wants and then he was happy…We have a moment way back in season 5 maybe? Where Sam runs away and this is shown as one of his happy moments in dark side of the moon.. No Dean in his happy places, Sam having thanksgiving with his girlfriend and her family, Sam alone with a dog. We have Sam and Amelia when Dean was in purgatory. So Sam IN text have been shown being able to be happy without Dean so why could he not do it this time?? Makes no sense! You can grieve but still have a good life.. But they CHOSE to show it like Sam was miserable bc Dean was dead and life was not worth living happily without Dean there..

The brothers have lately interacted like two individual adults, separated from each other, making their own decisions and trusting each other in making them, they wanted different things in life. And seriously WHERE DID EILEEN GO?? Why was Sam not reunited with Eileen that he some eps previous was shown to love, no instead they had blurry wife which feels like such a cop out. Sam did not get to live a happy fulfilling life and why did Sam not deserve to live a happy life with Eileen??? I know they are blaming corona for a lot of things missing in the finale that they intended.. BUT and this is a BIG BUT remember Jensen did not like the ending it did not sit well with him, he had a hard time digesting it, he objected to the ending! He spoke about that dying in battle would not be a satisfying ending - see the video of him talking about this at SDCC 2019. There is so much more to say about this but other people have voiced it so much better than I ever could so I move on to the next issue.

Dean in heaven

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Dean when he first arrives there happens upon Bobby who tells him John and Mary lives down the road and that Rufus and Arheta lives around there too. I hope Bobby’s wife was indoors, and that Jack with the help of Cas fixed heaven. To this Dean only smirk/smiles.. and then Dean sees baby and goes for a drive ALONE with the words he will be here soon from Bobby again Sam is the only one that ever matter PFT. Dean who found a home in the bunker alongside Sam, Cas and Jack who told John: I have a family and that he was happy with himself and his life…. Spends his time endlessly driving around alone just waiting for Sam to appear.. ALL of Deans growth is thrown out the window.. he is reduced to salad dressing. Deans only purpose is to live for his brother and cannot possibly have what he WANTS for himself not even in death. He drives around for who knows how many years until Sam dies. HOW is this justice to DEAN? How is this a good and satisfying ending for Dean. Dean who wanted to LIVE, Dean who wanted to experience people in new ways, who had let go of Sam and saw Sam as his own person, now in heaven only drives around waiting for Sam to get there having no life or meaning of his own. It pisses me off to no end that they reverted back to toxic codependent Sam is all that is important to Dean shit.. They have broken away from this shit years ago and this is how they choose to end it right back at the beginning..

Now what is the point of telling a story of growth and love and life if all that that journey amounts to is ending up at the exact point it started on?? You can watch season 1 and 2 and then this finale and it makes sense.. But having watched season 1-15 this ending does great injustice to the characters and the story. Again many others have written way better posts about this that expresses the great disappointment and hurt that is being screamed everywhere right now.

The Actors

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I want to add the performance of all actors through the years, the love and care they have poured into their characters are amazing I have loved every bit of that journey. I love Jared, Jensen and Misha, and all the others for their amazing work and that is maybe why it hurts so much it ended in this way!

#spn 15x20 #Supernatural #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #Jared Padalecki #dean winchester #dean #sam winchester #sam #castiel #cas #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #rambly thoughts about the end #the end

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asscreeds · 3 years

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Heila - Chapter 3

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photo by @freyastrider :”)

Eivor arranges for your clan’s rescue to the indignation of another. TW for alcohol consumption/inebriation, mentions and descriptions of death. Read on AO3 | Masterlist

As soon as Eivor bid you farewell, she set out to speak with Randvi to discuss sending scouts forward to Canterbury. Before rushing in blindly with axes drawn, she'd preferred to know if the Saxons had increased their numbers after you'd gone missing in the night… and, mortifyingly, if there were any members of your kith left to save. If they rode hard, they'd reach the city within hours. That was what she hoped, anyhow.

Entering the longhouse, she would never tire of the smell of woodsmoke and ale that greeted her. Gentle conversations hummed about the air as some of her vikingr wound down from their rigorous training sessions - they sent Eivor bright smiles, some even encouraging her to join them.

"Eivor!" one called out, raising his mug of ale in the air. "Will you join us for a drink?"

"I have other things to do," she said, and laughed as some made disappointed sounds and faces. "Fear not, my warriors. I will join you soon enough." This placated her intoxicated brethren well enough, and she took the chance to slip past them to the settlement's strategy room. Before she entered, she found Randvi turned away from her, scribbling away, writing something on a piece of parchment so harshly that she could hear the scratch of the quill from where she stood. Leaning against the archway she rapped her knuckles in a familiar pattern against the wood, and Randvi nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around with wide eyes, dropping the quill and nearly spilling ink all over what she had been writing. "Eivor!" she yelped, and Eivor nearly felt her cheeks split from how much she smiled, chuckling, hiding it behind her knuckles and looking at Randvi slyly. "Did I Interrupt you?"

Randvi was uncharacteristically flushed. "I - no, well, yes, but…" Eivor only chuckled again, approaching the smaller woman and giving her a playful shake of her shoulder. "No worries, Randvi. I will not ask what you were writing of." This didn't seem to calm her, and Randvi could not meet the Wolf-kissed's eyes. Ever since Eivor had accidentally stumbled upon Randvi's note, 'it is becoming increasingly difficult to look across the alliance table at Eivor,' even after Eivor's somewhat rejection of Randvi's affections at the tower - 'It is best we wait,' she said, and the longer Sigurd was gone the more she had grown to regret those words - Randvi had been so embarrassed by the unintentional confession that whenever she was reminded of it she'd turn a new color. It endeared Eivor, in a fun and silly way where Randvi needn't be so embarrassed by such a thing (as she'd told her many times before), and it made her think of awkward young love; wanting more, but not knowing how to go about it and bumbling through it. Suddenly Eivor was reminded of Sigurd, and that Randvi was Sigurd's wife, and not hers, so she let her hand fall from the other woman's shoulder as she took a step back with a smaller, if bittersweet, smile.

Randvi, now visibly more composed, ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Hello, Eivor. Did you need something?" Ah, the old 'let's talk about the settlement to ignore what just happened.'

Eivor gave a nod, looking towards the Alliance map. "I'd like to send scouts to Canterbury, in Cent," she said, leaning over the table to attempt to map the quickest route in her head.

"Cent? Weren't you just there?" Randvi questioned, crossing her arms as she approached the table wearily. It was suddenly very hard to look at Eivor again as the muscles in the warrior's arms bulged with the strain of holding herself up and the very specific angle Randvi was given of the woman's body made her think of… things.

Eivor looked up from the table and nodded again. "Yes, I was. But this is not for our clan. Do you remember y/n, the Dane I had told you about two nights ago?"

"Yes… what of her?" Randvi seemed hesitative, unsure of where Eivor was going with this.

"Some members of her clan were imprisoned there, or converted, I am not sure. From what she had told me, they were not treated well… and… you've seen her, haven't you?" Randvi recalled seeing your pale, limp form in the warrior's arms when Eivor had returned yelling at the top of her lungs for Valka, and how even in the flickering light of torches she could see the extent of your injuries. In her mind, it had looked like you were attacked by a bear. She nodded.

"It… it does not sit well with me, to leave them behind in such a place. With luck most of them are still alive, or have been converted and are living a simpler life… but I fear it may not be the case. The city, especially near the church where they are, had been heavily guarded. And I fear that they may have increased the guard after I took y/n from death, or…" she huffed, and shook her head as she drew her fingers over the symbol that marked Cent on the map, "or if more of them had been disrespected like that, as some sort of punishment."

Randvi did not know you, nor did she know your clan, but understood that this mattered greatly to you. And apparently to Eivor, by extension. Putting two and two together, she realized it was not a bear that had attacked you, but that you had been whipped or maimed in religious persecution. She nodded again. "I will send them at once."

Eivor sent Randvi a weary smile. "Please, hurry. If they ride hard and follow the rivers south they will reach the city within hours." Randvi matched Eivor's smile, and the Wolf-Kissed left, returning to her warriors.

Almost immediately she had a mug of Tekla's finest mead in her hand and a chorus of welcomes from the other vikingr, and she laughed as she sat down on a bench. While she was talking with Randvi they had started their own little feast; someone had gone out hunting earlier that day and brought back a boar, and they'd butchered and smoked it over the fire. Tarben was more than happy to provide fresh loaves of bread and even some sweets, like raspberry tarts. The sun was setting now, and even though they had done little over the past few days aside from train and spar, the overall mood was joyous and lighthearted. At some point someone had begun to sing and nearly everyone joined in, including a not-so sober Eivor, whose voice had dropped from that smooth sound to the rougher, hoarse rasp.

When the song ended they laughed and laughed, and then someone else came into the longhouse - Eivor could not see who, between the drink and her friends swaying bodies - then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and those in front of her suddenly quieted and stared, as if some great ugly beast or God stood over her. Glancing behind her she understood why. Dag. Beast it was.

Dag said nothing for a moment, only looking at Eivor with a nasty scowl and an iron-tight grip on her shoulder. Even though she'd drunk enough to feel it in the morning by now she could still smell the alcohol wafting from Dag, too. Instinctively she locked eyes with him and shrugged his hand off in a very clear message. Back off.

Dag somehow scowled even deeper and fought back a growl, slurring his speech. "Eivor! How nice to see you! Say, where is your brother? It's been some time since I last saw him!" he jabbed, the ale loosening his tongue and his mind into a sarcastic bitter mess.

Eivor was not having any of this. Especially not in front of half of the settlement. "Go away, Dag. I will speak with you later," she said, turning back to her mug of ale and chugging down the rest. Dag did not like that at all, no.

Frustrated and intoxicated he grabbed onto Eivor's shoulder and pushed then yanked, throwing her off balance and nearly sending her to the floor but, luckily, she caught herself. And reoriented herself, and sent Dag the most pissed off look, and suddenly the entire longhouse silenced. Dag was not phased.

Standing and facing the other viking directly, she continued to stare him down. Go on, dumbass. Disrespect me infront of everyone. See how it treats you in the coming days.

Dag took the bait. "Eivor, why do I find you here, drunk and revelling for no reason, when our jarl is missing? Hm? Do you not care for him?" he snarled, though he did step back a pace. Nervous. "Or are you glad to finally be rid of him ?"

"End this, Dag. You and I both know that is not why he has not been found."

"But how convenient it is for him to be missing for all these months!" Dag liked to talk with his body and, now drunk, stumbled about. "How convenient he has not been found in Grantebridge, Cent, Essexe, err… S-Snogginham… even Vinland! Have you no care for your people's jarl to be returned to them?"

Eivor was tired of this. The other vikingr were, too. They understood why Eivor had not yet returned with Sigurd. Dag did not. Taking on a dangerous edge between infuriated and serpentine, she stalked toward Dag, getting in his space. "You know that is not why Sigurd is still missing. I have said it thrice now. And yet you continue to disrespect me like this, in front of all of Ravensthorpe, and even they know why. Sigurd trusted me to be his surrogate. If he were here, he would approve of me finding allies to strengthen our people. Why can't you, Dag?"

"Sigurd would not chase glory like this if you were missing, Eivor! He -"

Eivor cut him off. "He what? Would have to suffer you caterwauling in his ear every day, too? While he does the same things, finding friends and allies in the people of England to strengthen our place here? Both you and I know that he would chase glory. You're a fucking idiot if you think otherwise. He has trusted me to substitute him, as he would for me. We are the same, Dag. And you have disrespected me time and time again. Maybe he would approve of me sending you to Helheim if you even think about causing a scene like this again." Maybe the drink was loosening her tongue, too.

Dag visibly recoiled, then fumed, stepping into the shieldmaiden's space even more. Eivor grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him. "Dag! Nobody wants him returned more than I do, Dag! Every single time I have an inkling of where he is he is taken from me again! What will it take to prove you this? Should we draw a circle? Should I give you more silver? Would you like to become an advisor so you can witness directly the piles of horse-shit dealings with inbred Saxons marrying and killing each other over a minor throne that I have to work with near daily? I don't even know if I can ally with all of England seeing that nearly every province hates the next! I'm sick of this! Of course I want Sigurd back, Dag!"

Dag simply let Eivor rant, closing his eyes somewhere halfway through to both think more clearly and stop the spinning of the room. He was silent for a moment, as if pondering something, and then looked towards Eivor with a grievous expression, slowly removing her hands from his shoulders.

"...no, you do not have to draw a holmgang. I have been an idiot many times over. I'm ale-addled but I can only ask that…" he paused, then suddenly dropped to a knee. The dog shows his belly. "Please, forgive me. It was… it was only that I could not face the potential of Sigurd's death, far from his home and his people. I have disrespected you and your brother by treating you these ways. I have broken the oath I promised to Sigurd. You should think of slaughtering me for it."

Finally. Eivor would not forgive easily, nor would she ever forget Dag's behavior over the last year, but she held out a hand to him. "I will not let a fine warrior go to waste like that. You can start apologizing by joining my crew again, Dag." To be honest she'd missed his silly stories as they sailed across ocean and river. Dag took her hand and stood, nodding. "Of course, Eivor." She squeezed his hand before letting go, and then the bustle of the other vikingr began again, and it was as if a collective sigh of relief came from every living being in Ravensthorpe. She did not feel as if she had to address everyone, either; it just came naturally, a weight lifted off her shoulders and respite rolled over everyone like a huge ocean wave. Exhausted from the encounter and by the mead muddying her mind she bid Dag farewell and stumbled up to her room. Dag then sat at one of the tables, and though alone at first he was quickly joined by the other warriors and was soon laughing and telling tales.

She didn't know how much she'd drank (she'd stopped counting after 9 or 10 mugs) but it was enough to make the process of opening her door, closing it, taking off the stupidly intricate straps of the assassin's blade and her boots, and crawling under her furs extremely difficult. By the time she had gotten to her bed she just threw herself on it and almost immediately passed out into a dreamless sleep. Miles away from the resting drengr, two scouts reached their destination, and what greeted them was not pretty.

...

"Eivor!" A knock at her door.

Groaning, Eivor snapped her eyes open then promptly shut them tight at the room spinning. She was still drunk, though in the weird realm of drunk-yet-hungover. "Give… give me a minute," she rasped out, throwing her arm over her face and willing her mind to reorient itself. "That is fine. But please, join me at the planning table as soon as you are able." Ah. Randvi.

Eivor did not know when she would be able. Gazing out into the darkness of her room she surmised it was now night, or maybe early morning? Slowly peeling herself from the confines of her bed she rubbed at her eyes, then lit a few more candles so she could see what she was doing. Throwing her boots, a lightly armored chestpiece, her weapons and her cape on she stumbled out and down to the planning room. It was early morning by the amount of drunk and sated warriors lying about the longhouse. She was not a morning person, but for Randvi, and how disturbed she had sounded, well…

Turning the corner to the archway of the room, the Wolf-Kissed could see Randvi visibly pacing back and forth, worried. She sighed in immediate understanding, startling the smaller woman again yet less comically this time. "Eivor, the -"

"The scouts returned with ill findings," she finished, leaning a great portion of her weight against the archway. By the Gods it was so difficult to stand and stay awake. Randvi nodded. "Yes, they have, and I fear it is more dire than we both thought," she said, throwing down a map drawn by one of the scouts. Eivor pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tell me."

"They've increased the guards tenfold, something about a thegn or some other visiting. The scouts did locate some of y/n's clan but they are… not in good shape. Corralled in cages like dogs, as thin as if they had not eaten properly in weeks. You were right about the Saxons punishing some of them for y/n's disappearance. They… they took at least three of them, left them to die as she was supposed to. It is too late for them. With their state and the strengthened garrison, it may be too great of a risk and too fruitless to try and recover them."

Eivor seethed. "No. That is not an option. I'll burn that city to the ground even if to save at least one of y/n's clan." This surprised Randvi. Eivor had only met you a few days prior, yet she was willing to destroy a city for you? Hmm. In Eivor's mind, she thought of her home being attacked, of every single family member being slaughtered and taken away from her by Kjotve. She could see the parallels. She would not let another soul suffer the cruelty she has endured.

"My men, drunk as they may be, should prepare to leave ere midday. We'll sail south, follow the rivers to Cent's northwestern border, then ride to the city, straight through to the prisons. Run in and out. Recover as many as we are able, they'll slaughter them all otherwise. Send forth two dozen horses to the harbor just past Roucistere, where the river Thames and Medeuuage meet the sea, there is a small harbor there," she said brusquely, turning from Randvi and leaving the other woman to fret and wake the other warriors (as gently as she could) to notify them of the plan. They will understand the suddenness, Eivor thought.

Then her thoughts turned to you. I should tell her that we will recover what we can of her clan today. She made for Valka's hut, and by then the world had lightened just slightly so as the sun began to peak over the eastern hills. Pushing through the seeress' bone curtains as quietly as she could, she was surprised to see you already awake and crying into the arms of Valka.

Valka did not look to Eivor, only holding you in her lap and smoothing your hair out like a mother. You were breathing too fast, your face sweaty and pale.

"What happened?" came Eivor's gruff voice, still tinged with sleep and drink. Immediately your head snapped to her and a string of pleads came from your mouth, grasping towards her and taking one of her hands in yours.

"Please, Eivor, please. You must hurry, find my clan, find Gunnar, please! " You were hyperventilating again. The dream had been so real.

You had rested calmly for the first half of the day after Eivor left, and had woken up some time before the sun set to relieve yourself and help yourself to more bread and tea. The second time you fell asleep, however, you were plagued by a living nightmare.

All around you were the sounds of swords clashing, the smell of housefire, the pelt of freezing rain against your skin. You were back at the raid of the monastery, and everywhere you looked you could see copies of the same church, the endless battle of your kinsmen versus the Saxons, and though you longed to join them in beating back their forces you found that you were unarmed. Wading through the piles and piles of bodies upon the blood-stained ground you walked towards the most central copy of the church, and how small it made you feel, the spindling white spires of the marble roof rising into the air like teeth. You did not remember the incline leading to the church being this long or this steep, but who were you to question it?

Finally you had reached the summit, and the church was so large and tall now that even the doorway was a singular, gigantic arch and the spires reached so high into the ash-clouded sky that you could no longer see where they ended. Did the church always have a blue and gold hue…? Your ponderings were cut short by the image of a long, long table surrounded by dozens and dozens of seats, all empty, save for one appearing in front of you. Seated in the middle-most chair was Gunnar, sitting perfectly still with his arms and hands laid in a cup in front of him, as if he were a statue. Slowly you approached, tentatively calling out "Gunnar?" to which he did not respond. When you got within eyesight of Gunnar's warm, joyous blue eyes (you had always thought he had the most calming and always jovial eyes you'd ever seen), he suddenly stood, though he did not move his arms from their position. He stood there until you called out another, even more hesitant "Gunnar."

Then, all at once, as if his neck had been spliced by some invisible force, his head toppled down from his shoulders right into his open palms. You screamed and cried, trying to rush forward though you were suddenly held back by hands, so many grasping hands, with vice grips on your skin that threatened to tear it from your very being. The scene before you shifted, and instead of Gunnar's own hands holding his head, a spear of twisting wood and hanging vine pierced through the back of his skull and sprung forth out of his forehead like a horn, and despite being visibly dead his eyes were not clouded as you'd expected, still carrying the same calming blue. Shocked, you could not move, and only stared forward into his eyes. You did not notice Frederik approaching you from your periphery.

He gently set a hand upon your shoulder, and you could only continue to look forward, weeping. "It's a shame, isn't it?" spoke Frederik, and when you turned to him he smiled, then grinned, until it grew wider and wider and his mouth split into two and his teeth lengthened, his eyes became slits, and his long golden-blonde hair turned to spikes. All at once he became a serpent, dripping venom upon the dessicated head of Gunnar, coiling scaled tendrils around the spear and the table. He hissed, flaring his nostrils, and reared back to strike. You willed yourself to move but could not find the strength to do it. You could not even close your eyes.

And then, behind him, a second pair of great and terrible eyes beset upon Frederik, and with a great roar that shook the entire world another serpent appeared with countless corpses upon its glittering back and wings, smoke billowing from it's nostrils like the ash-clouds of the raid. Before the Frederik-Serpent could strike, or turn around to look at the Great-Serpent, the jaws of the dragon rushed forward and snapped around the smaller serpent and Gunnar's head, crushing the both of them instantaneously into glittering blue dust and fog.

You woke up screaming.

Instantly Valka had been at your side, even though she had been pulled from her own sleep. You could not find the right words to describe what you had just seen. It was so, so wrong . You did not want to think of Gunnar dying such a way. You could not think of the friend you'd known since you were a child dying as a result of Frederik's oath breaking. You'd cried into Valka's chest as she held you close like your mother used to when you were a babe and after a while you tried to explain best your nightmare, and though your words were disjointed and few and far between, Valka could understand that it was a portent, and only willed you to calm yourself down, shushing you and petting your hair. You would calm down to breathe sometimes, then remember Gunnar's head and the two serpents and be sent into hysterics again. This continued for the better part of half an hour before Eivor arrived.

Eivor held your hand and squeezed it with both hands, looking deep into your eyes. "I have already made preparations to leave today with my men to retrieve what we can of your family," she said, and her words puzzled you for a moment before a wave of relief washed over you, calming you for the time being. She squeezed your hand again, and leaned in close to your face. While she was up this close, even through your teary vision, you noticed small details of her face that you'd never noticed before; the scar on her cheek dragging from the corner of her eye down to her mouth; another, smaller scar across her upper lip; how her nose seemed to have been broken at some point with how the bridge of it slightly bent at at angle to the right; a mess of scars on her neck that you could not imagine the origin of. She's been through a lot.

She spoke lowly, calmly, and you found some sort of solace in the way her dulcet voice growled with the sound of tiredness. "I know it is difficult, but you need to prepare for the worst. I will do my best to save your people, but…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "...but they have already spent so long imprisoned by the Saxons. There may not be many of them left," she confessed, her voice hitting a somber note. You understood immediately. It was as you feared, your rescue spurring on the indoctrination and culling of more of your clan. You gulped and nodded, holding back more tears, lip quivering. "Alright," you said, voice brittle. Eivor held onto your hand for a moment longer and gave it one last parting squeeze before leaving Valka and you to calm yourselves.

It was still early morning, and her warriors would not be ready for the ride just yet, so she set about to prepare her actual armor and clean her weapons (and take a much needed and calming bath), then helped to prepare for the attack. Rowan had already lended her the horses needed for the journey, and Gunnar did not mind distributing more of his higher-quality weapons and armor to her warriors. Despite being on such a short notice after a night of revelling, there was a certain electricity to the air, energizing everyone to prepare as fast they could. Or maybe it was the fact that the warriors were excited to go back to pillaging and battle after nearly 3 weeks of sparring. To her joy, she found Dag amongst those preparing for the day ahead. Hours passed quickly, and final preparations were made just before the sun hit its highest point in the sky.

Gathering her vikingr, she quickly rebriefed them on the plan, then bid them to board the ship to Canterbury. Given the fair weather, the speed of her longship and their blood-hungered weapons, they would reach the city within 3 hours.

They would return by nightfall with sorrow.

#my writing #ac valhalla spoilers #valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor #lady eivor

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Tear in My Heart

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Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Genre: FLUFFY AS HELL

A/N: I wrote this in 15 minutes. Based on the song “Tear in my heart” by twenty one pilots. Please enjoy!

You fell asleep in my car I drove the whole time But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine I'm driving here I sit Cursing my government For not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement

“Stupid pot hole. Where the fuck do my taxes even go? I would think with the amount the government takes from me every year that they would fill up these stupid roads with more cement. I just changed my fucking tires.”

Both you and your fiancé were driving home from a party at your friend Jinyoung’s house. You were currently sleeping and Mark was trying his best to avoid the many potholes that seemed to surround the roads in order to prevent waking you up.

It was obvious that you were exhausted. Not only did you finish work only a few hours before the two of you left for the party, but you were currently five months pregnant and you tended to take naps whenever you had the chance. Since he knew you were going to be tired right after your shift, he had recommended that you both would skip out on the party but the adorable pout that rose on your face got him to give in to you.

Everyone and their mothers knew that Mark was over the moon for you and that he would do any and everything in his power to give you the world you deserved and more. That’s why he was practically swerving in and out of his lane. It didn’t help that it was dark and his vision wasn’t all that great, but your safety and well being were clouding his thoughts and all he wanted to do was hurry up and get you home.

He brought his free hand up to your face and gently cupped your cheek before bringing his hand down to your stomach and rubbing it back and forth. Mark still couldn’t believe that he and his favorite person were going to be parents. He’s dreamt of being a father for the longest time and he couldn’t wait to experience this beautiful journey with you.

At each and every stoplight, he would take the time and look at you in awe. If only you were awake, you’d be able to see the amount of love and admiration in his eyes whenever it came to you. Even after five years of being together, Mark looked at you like it was the first time he laid his eyes on you. You were his entire life. His world. He loved you with every fiber of his being.

He couldn’t help but leave chaste kisses around your face every chance that he got and before he knew it, the two of you were pulling up in to your garage. Since he was adamant on not waking you up, Mark parked the car and made his way to the passenger side. Once he opened your door, he unbuckled your seatbelt and carefully picked you up bridal style.

When you didn’t wake up by the countless movement no matter how much he tried to avoid any sort of noise or disturbance, he released a sigh of relief and began the journey upstairs. It was in moments like these where he regrets purchasing a two story house. It sounded better in hind sight, but since you were having a little one on the way you needed as much space as you could get. As soon as he stepped in to the living room, your dog Milo was quick to jump on him out of excitement; almost causing the both of you to fall but thankfully Mark’s reflexes were quick and he repositioned you so that it was easier for him to move around.

“Milo, now’s not the time bud. Mommy’s asleep. Come on, let’s go to the room.” After placing you down on the bed, he took a few seconds to breathe. It was obvious he was extremely out of shape and the fact that you were carrying a baby didn’t make it any easier but Mark wasn’t one to complain. He would sacrifice his strength if it meant you were comfortable. Unfortunately, Mark knew he’d have to wake you up sooner or later in order to get you ready for bed.

He got up and grabbed you one of his baggy shirts and a pair of his sweats before beginning to leave sloppy kisses on your forehead. Your fiancé gently began to shake your arm and murmured your name to try and get you up from your slumber.

“Babe. Baby. Let’s get you ready for bed.” It took you a few seconds, but when he saw your eyes fluttering he stifled back a giggle. You were so adorable.

“Sorry to wake you love, but I wanted you to be comfortable. I’ll help you change and brush your teeth, then we can go to sleep okay? How was your nap?” You smiled sleepily at your fiancé before letting out a suppressed yawn.

“Good. I had a weird dream though. You were grumbling to yourself about the pot holes in the road and how the government takes your money for no reason. And then you were cursing the stairs and got upset with Milo—with the look you’re giving me right now I have a feeling I wasn’t dreaming.” He playfully rolled his eyes as he motioned for you to lift your arms up so that he could help you take off your dress. Your cheeks warmed at the thought of him trying his best not to wake you by avoiding all the holes in the ground. Mark was always so considerate and it made your heart flutter. There were so many times in your relationship that Mark would make certain decisions with you in mind. As you were to thank him for the gesture, he spoke up.

“You were partially awake this entire time? You could’ve walked up the stairs—ow! What was that for?” He began to rub his shoulder after you shoved him roughly.

“Are you calling me fat? You know how I get when it comes to my weight I know I am a whale now please don’t remind me. It’s your fault I’m like this.”

Seeing your now sarcastic frustrated demeanor made Mark giggle. It was true though. A few weeks before you found out you were pregnant, Mark could not keep his hands off of you as per usual. However, that week specifically, Mark hinted and even bluntly asked for sex every single day but it was understandable.

Your schedules collided to the point where you hardly ever saw each other so when work started to slow down for you, he took advantage of every minute spent together. Although you were extremely excited to become a mother, you weren’t going to lie; pregnancy was difficult. Not only were you hungry all the time and could barely move without assistance, but you were bipolar and very insecure about your body.

Mark tried his best to do everything you asked him to and to remind you on a daily basis of how beautiful you were and how you had this glow now that you were a soon to be mother, but it didn’t help the fact that you felt like gross and ugly. But you knew that every woman felt this way when they were pregnant so you tried your best to ignore your negative thoughts and to enjoy the process while your baby was still growing in your tummy.

“Baby, stop thinking so negative of yourself. You’re so beautiful, I can’t even fathom it in to words. You’re not even wearing make up and you look like you’re straight out of a magazine. Well, maybe a pregnancy magazine as of right now. But like I said, I can’t get over how good you look pregnant. You and I, we’re creating a human being out of the love we have for one another. Can you believe it? And your body, God. I can’t get over how sexy you are. Don’t give me that look, I know you don’t believe me but damn y/n. You don’t understand how hard it is for me to resist pinning you against the bed and having my way with you.”

He let out a soft chuckle when he noticed a tear fall from the corner of your eye and he immediately kissed it away and pulled you on to his lap. “I’m sorry you’re going through so much pain and so many emotions right now but I’m very thankful for all that you’ve had to go through and all that I know you will continue to do. You know I wish I could be the one going through this so you didn’t have to suffer right? It’ll all be worth it once our little bub arrives. Until then, don’t hesitate to ask me for anything no matter what it is or what time it is. Whatever you need baby, you got it. Am I really going to have two cry babies? Come here.”

He connected your lips together and when he felt you smile in to the kiss, he pulled away and placed his forehead against yours. “I love you, more than you will ever know. You are a marvel y/n. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I would do it again and again if it meant having you in every single lifetime. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for our little family. I love you baby.”

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know, oh, oh That you're alive and have a soul, oh, oh But it takes someone to come around To show you how

She's the tear in my heart I'm alive She's the tear in my heart I'm on fire She's the tear in my heart Take me higher Than I've ever been

My heart is my armor She's the tear in my heart She's a carver She's a butcher with a smile Cut me farther Than I've ever been

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan fluff #got7 drabbles #got7 fluff

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willowwisk · 3 years

Note

Heyy, you said it's ok to give you prompts?

Can you write a destiel fake/pretend relationship maybe? (Any setting works except HS please) You don't have to, of course.

And could you add me to the taglist?

Thank you, have a good day/night!!

AHH! yes of course! the fic is below the cut. its an au where dean needs to bring a date home for new years.

God. Damn. his father. that son of a bitch. All last year he dragged dean to bring a girl home for the holidays. all week it was “ooh dean, maybe you'll have a girl next year, ooh dean, when re we gonna get to see your girlfriend” what a tool.

but this year he finally stopped and thought. what if he DID bring someone home. stopped the annoying passive aggressive comments? easy. but who could he convince to fake date him?

that was where he hit a wall. No, really. he ran into the wall in the hallway of his dorm. shit. he needs to learn to think AND walk.

“What the fuck was that noise?” he heard from deep inside their studio dorm. “CAS!” he yelled, opening the plywood-esk door. “you’re a genius! I could just kiss you!” dean shrieked, hugging Cas. he would have no problem getting Castiel to relent to his idiotic plan.

“what, dean?” Castiel asked, slightly confused. “ok, so you know that Ryan Reynolds movie?” dean asked, knowing that cas would have no problem remembering every Reynolds movie to exist ever, the man was a wet dream.

“you are going to have to be more specific dean” cas added, becoming a little frustrated. “Sandra Bullock. Alaska.” Dean said.

“OH, you mean the Proposal? we watched it last month, right? We saw Ryan’s ass?” Cas realized. dean laughed. leave it to cas to remember that. but yea. that's the one.

once he explained to cas his little predicament and promised him he wasn't going to make him go to Alaska in December, they were packing their bags.

“WOAH cas if you put that in your bag I swear to god,” dean yelled, looking into cas’ duffle bag. the man was folding a Las Vegas raiders hoodie, and dean would not stand for that.

“what the fuck dean, you know this is my favorite sweatshirt!” he said in his gravelly, back off voice. Cas really had no idea did he. “Cas, you realize we are going to Kansas, right? that's chiefs’ country. if you wear a raiders hoodie anywhere NEAR Kansas, they will shoot you point blank! not to mention my father,” dean said, trailing off.

Dean handed Cas a spare chiefs hoodie from their shared mini closet. “here wear this, I'm your size and you will get a better reaction from the entire state.

cas was shaking his head but he begrudgingly put it in his bag.

and soon enough, they were off! the plane ride was a little turbulent, so of course dean thought he was going to die the entire time.

when they finally got on the ground, John, Mary and Sam where all there to greet him. Now, dean had told his family he was bringing home a date, but he didn’t specify the gender. they all knew he was bi; he was 20 and a sophomore in college, he was not planning on staying in the closet forever. However, his father elected to ignore that.

he was super excited to see Sam. when he was home for fall break, sam was sick in the hospital with the flu, and he was never really around the whole week. now he was better, and seemingly even taller.

“whats up bitch!” dean called out, giving him an epic noogie. “Deeeeaaaannnnnn! You’re such a jerk!” sam said, only giving dean more gusto.

“Dean! Sam! Quit it. We are in public.” John said, rearing his ugly head and ruining the fun. “Yes Sir.” The boys said in unison, making cas cringe.

“Dean, who is this young man?” Mary asked, gesturing towards cas and breaking the awkward silence that comes after you yell at your 20-year-old son.

Dean tool a deep breath, looked at Cas and told them that he was his boyfriend. Sam shook his hand, Mary said, “oh, alright! Hop in the car and we can head home” and john said, well, predictably, nothing. He just got in the car and drove home.

When they pulled up at Deans childhood home, it looked exactly as it did when he comes every year. Nothing seems to have changed except Sam’s room since dean was born. “dean, can you take yours and Castiels bags to your room?” mary asked, unlocking the door. Dean had already assured cas that he had had bunk beds in his room since he was 12, and that there was no need to worry about sharing one bed.

Until he walked into his room. If you could even call it that anymore. His black walls? They were now a light shade of baby blue. His music posters? Gone. Replaced by Ikea paintings of bridges and shit. And the worst part, instead of his bunk beds tucked into a corner of the room, there was one big queen-sized bed.

Dean threw the bags onto the bed and yelled “MOOOOOOM!!!!” downstairs he could hear a quiet exchange and a “shit!” before he heard his mom running up the stairs. She had a lot of explaining to do.

After explaining why his room had been butchered and replaced by that Martha Stewart crap, everyone was exhausted. Their flight had come in at 10pm, ad they lived an hour from the airport.

Cas was in the bed, and dean was on a blanket on the floor. Ouch. But that’s when all hell broke loose.

There was a sputter, sputter, CLANK across the house in the wee hours of the night. Everyone was asleep except dean, and he KNEW that sound. The fucking heater had gone out. On December 22nd. In Kansas. F U C K.

Dean lay shivering on the floor, when cas screamed in his sleep. Now dean felt extra bad. He was used to cas’s tears and whimpers in the night, since they were roommates, but he knew that straight up screams were really bad. Cas had nightmares and PTSD, like, bad. He grew up in an abusive household, and being the youngest sibling of 8, he was everyone’s favorite punching bag.

Dean knew the nightmares circled around that, but he never knew details. After waking cas a lot in his freshman year, dean finally learned that if you wake him up, its really hard for him to go back to sleep, so cas told him to just let him ride them out.

In the middle of deans thought, cas screamed again, mixed with a chocked back sob. “no, don’t hurt him- no! NO! don’t hurt dean no no no no!!” cas whimpered.

At this point, dean was planning intervention. This seemed way worse than normal, it felt more like a PTSD dream than a normal nightmare. He needed to get cas awake, and now.

Dean hopped up onto the bed and grabbed cas’ face in his hands. “cas buddy, wake up, your safe, I’m here. CAS” dean yelps, trying to wake his friend up.

All of the sudden, cas’ eyes pop open, and! He begins to have a panic attack. But that’s fine. Dean knows panic attacks. They follow their 5 things you can touch, smell, and see procedure, and by the last touch, cas has almost calmed all the way down.

“Cas, what is the fifth solid thing you can touch?” dean asks, praying that cas has calmed down.

Cas reached out and touched deans almost frozen lips. He points at dean. Cas then notices how cold dean is. He points at dean and puts his arms up in a ‘shivering’ gesture. Ok. So cas is going to be nonverbal tonight. Good to know. That one will be hard to explain.\

Its was also important to mention that cas had autism. He was a confusing little gay disaster that dean was somehow incredibly dependent on.

Cas had lifted his blankets and was gesturing that dean come and get in the bed, to warm up.

Dean was reluctant, but he was just so cold. So he relented.

“I hope you know im getting out as soon as the heat turns back on.” Dean said, crawling into bed.

He pressed his back to castiel's chest, effectively becoming the little spoon. Maybe this fake dating thing wouldn’t be so bad.

They had lost so many hours last night, that when the door opened in the morning, they were still asleep. “boys” mary said in a quiet voice.

This jolted dean awake, who was famously a very light sleeper, only to discover he and cas were even more entwined than before. He was now facing cas, and they were basically hugging horizontally.

“the heater is out ma” dean whispered, trying to not wake cas.

“dean, the heater came back on not two hours after it went out”

oh my god this was so fun to write, sorry i went off of your prompt a little, i really was afraid it was going to turn into a 100k fic lol and i write wherever the plot bunny takes me.

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mrsunderhill678 · 3 years

Text

Woops, I wrote again

"What a shame it is, ta recognize the fingers that pulled back the hammer. What a shame it is, when the man in the mirror's the one who shot the gun." - Darnell Bronko

"They tell ya heaven's in hiding and lead you to the edge of your sanity, whispering, "Jump, heaven sits at the bottom." And as you fucking fall, you begin to realize that angels never fell, they jumped and thought it paradise." - Jess Mercikal

"I'm a grave dug too early, digging up my own bones, always wondering why the different are damned whilst the powerful are celebrated for their indifference. But I guess that's just how it goes, huh? The boy who cries wolf is loved by the predator, for he falls easily into his maw. But as he begs for a savior, everyone passes the different boy by because "He asked for it." - Havio Bonecross

"There is no beauty more pure than the release of life, the gasp of the heretic soul whispering like smoke on the edge of the saint's holy knife." - Vareeth Gospel

"She was a delusion of the worst kind. Of the breathing, haunting kind that digs it's fingers into the recesses of your skull and crushes every thought, every memory with dream slathered hands. And she was the worst kind of evil that consumes, and consumes, and consumes until there's nothing left but the girl that was, but is no more." - Zacharia Von Shelrick

"My mind drifts back ta the days'a pain, and every time I see brokenness reflected in the eyes'a that old orphanage. And I can't help but think'a that little girl, chokin' on darkness and delusions before she ever had a chance ta live. And that's what pain does ta ya. It kills innocence and replaces it with himself." - Clayborne Pettygore

"In the eyes'a innocence decayed I met young evil, killin' a young girl from the inside out as if that old eightball had whispered she'd fall inta the darkness without a damn doubt. And every now and then, my darkness reminds me that in some ways, I'm just like that little girl. Dead too soon. Corrupted too young. A grave before I ever crawled." - Sampson O'Connel

"Some men get choice. Men like me get ta follow fate's river as it fuckin' sweeps em away." - Wyval Killsrift

"Son, I'd go inta the dark gently if I were you. Her teeth are sharp and she likes the kinda prey that fights back and dances on 'er tongue." - Wyval Killsrift

"I've got a knife in the back of my throat, and it coats my words in blood." - Wyval Killsrift

"Peel back my skin and tear me apart in search for redemption. In search for beauty. But all you'll find in the remains of my ribcage is a heart faded to black where all the red used to be. I'm a power lusting, sin starving, wretched beast, preying on his own flesh just to survive who he's become. But I like it that way. I always have. There are many forms of death that don't end in a funeral. A kind of death you can only see in the flickers of emotion in a cruel man's eye." - Totalis Sinsbad

"Evil wears many faces. But the evil I met, she wore only one." - Bob Smyke

"I don't think you ever really leave that first high. I was just young and dumb when I went on my first trip. I soared through the air on acid wings and smoke. My eyes spilling with tears that tasted like blood on my whiskey scarred tongue. And I'll never escape that memory. That addiction to the liminal. To the blurred edges of reality. I've grown so achingly tired of this body. I just want to fucking escape myself. And that's what my addiction gave me. But I the snake tongued devil, shaped like pills and needles never told me he'd carve small pieces of me off as I slept and dreamt of greater things." - Mieda Brushvaker

"Escaping reality's a deadly, thing. First, you tell yourself it's just this once. You'll never fucking do it again. And you keep telling yourself that. Before ya know it, people start leaving you because you're just a cocaine husk, bleeding from the tip of a heroin needle. I told myself I'd quit again, and again, but that shit changed me. And in some sinister fucking way, I'm always going to be a junkie, caught between this rift in reality. Cause I just ain't been me ever since white powdered fingers came for me in the dark and choked the reality from me." - Armano Sketer

"I wouldn't get in the habit of denying reality. It's a knife, my friend. And with every denial of it's existence, it sharpens. And it prepares to cut, slow." - Darwin Flowrick

"I'm a lustful, starving, crooked shadow. Feasting off of innocence. off of scars. Off of pieces of fragility and wicked divinity. Many call me a monster, but I'm human. Dreadfully human. And isn't that what makes their hearts run black? I am as human as they who damn me. I used to be just as innocent. But I came for myself, with teeth reddened by the slaughter, claws sharp and hungry for a young boy's innocence. And with pale, crooked eyes I desecrated my sense of self, and tore it apart piece, by delicious, starving piece." - Darwin Flowrick

"Redemption passed 'er by, and delusions came for 'er with feral, rotting teeth. If she ever knew innocence, it curled up in her chest and opened in her heart like a dyin' flower. Blackining. Decayin'. Dyin' before she ever had a chance ta fuckin' live. I once asked 'er "Why?" And all she ever did was smile and ask, "Why not?" And that's such a wicked kinda' evil. Such a relentless, fucked up kinda misery. And I always wondered, as she faded inta the night if she went home ta the darkness she'd always lived in." - Roan Scorpio

"Darkness beats in my chest, like a soft, quiet melody told by very few. They say it's forbidden. They say it's cursed. Dreadful. Deadly. But I like the way it resurrects me. The way it pulls my cracked bones back together. The way it stitches the flesh and sits, like blood on the tongue. I sway under the dying light of innocence, closing my eyes as I know, I've truly felt what it was, to die. And it came for me with pale fingers and crooked, bones. And I like the way it nips at my scars with reddened teeth and tells me this horror is beautiful." - Elzibith Varcoat

"There's a ghost in my head, and it whispers reasons for it to haunt me. You'll fall back, it says, you'll grasp at that sweet release just to escape from the mind numbing reality of who you are. And I always fight back in whimpers, and cries, and tears in the corners of my eyes. It's not so easy fighting a war when the enemy is yourself, and it's who you are on the frontlines. Armed with rifles full of addiction and needles, ready to prod. And tear. And chew away at me until I'm me no more. Just another drug bound, addiction fueled ghost." - Torva Allidaine

"Truthfully, I am not a human being. Humanity was ripped from me first from bullet hole fangs and gunpowder dripping tongues. And as I tried to scrap together what pieces of me I had, humanity was once more torn away from my bones. For pale fingers came in the dark and ripped, away. As if I was just another layer of skin hiding the bitter, rotten goods. So I do what I can with what little I have. I kill a bad man. I fire off another fucking bullet. Because that's all I am. A thing that goes bump in the bad thing's quiet darkness." - Amarillo Crocker

"Sometimes, I must confess, I begin to wish I could rip away at this skin. Like a sunburn beginning to peel. I have stood in this flesh for too long. This aching, heavy, crushing flesh. This is not me. It can't be. I want to fall, like Icarus from the sky. To let my wings and skin burn away with the heat of the sun. If only to reveal the woman hiding behind all this skin. This ugly, defiant, constricting skin. I am a cage. But I've always been a cage. too." - Valdosta Coffenbury

"Hungry, reminding fingers wrapped around my chest. Stealing the air from me. The comfort. The safety. It was always there. Always hungry. Always reminding me I'm not who I should be. Who I want, to be. It lives in the mirror, and the steam from the shower. It lives in my chest. In the edge of a shaving razor as I cut away at facial hair that never should've been there. It's suffocating, sometimes. But usually, it's quiet. In the back of my head. In the back of my chest. The back of the shower. Always there. Always hungry. Always reminding me of the face that isn't mine in the mirror. And that's what it feels like. Being somebody that isn't you. Never was. Never will be. Never again." - Valdosta Coffenbury

"I fell asleep, but it weren't so kind. I tossed, and I turned. I fell inta my first nightmare'a the night. I can remember the pitch black sky. His quiet anger that was so, loud. I couldn't speak. As if the terror, or the sorrow, or whatever the fuck it was sat in my throat, forcing my words back down like tears drippin' from my cheeks. I don't remember much'a the second nightmare. Just red. Everywhere. In my throat, in my words, bleedin' from my God damn eyes. But then I was awake in the twilight, wrapped in itchy blankets and cold sweat, wonderin' if I'd woken back inta my life, or stepped inta another fucked up piece'a me." - Ace Swinton

"My heart's a threadbare emotion, starving on the memories of my mother." - Rafaela Caesar

"I want to see the vulnerable side of you as I slink under the shadows of your bed, to listen to the way your breath breaks and mourns under the weight of a nightmare and dream divided. I want to see you broken as I hide in the shadows of your closet, to hear the secrets you whisper to torn sweaters and dresses you outgrew long ago. Eaten away by moths and woven into a spider's web. But most of all, perhaps, I want to taste the blood of your malice in my mouth as your anger nips at my tongue and tries to kill this man I am. You can never be rid of me, for I am the monster under your bed, who has killed all your shadows, and butchered all your light, wondering what you'd become on the edge of existence." - Darwin Flowrick

"Running my fingers against an old, worn out photograph, I come to realize my sister was a delicate hero to herself. There was a storm in her, a deadly, violent storm of anger and sadness. But when I look into those paper eyes, splashed with her sister's tears, I can't help but think I failed her in some way, as if I'd just tried a little harder, she wouldn't be this cold case in my heart." - Sun Morvosina

"Some sins are perhaps worse than murder, worse than lust, death, desire. And perhaps my mind lusts for the things that will damn it, shoving sins into it's maw and sucking at the heart until it's bone white. But the greatest sin of all, perhaps, is that I am me, and in some way, I always have been." - Melias Skinwalker

"My heart's a gentle, moss covered bomb, and every now and then, a fragile little emotion comes on by and pulls back the pin. Can you imagine that kind of deadly vulnerability to your darkness?" - Ben Stilts

"I dipped my pen in the blood of my identity, and word by word, I wrote my death." - Shilo Andrakall

"I'm gunpowder and pistol smoke rising after the murder of another man's conscience, and as the smell of death begins to brew in the puddles of red rain, I come to realize a soldier dies the moment he steps on the battlefield, and out from his heart claws a monster made of gunmetal sacrifice and howling intentions." - Halzio Vickmon

"Blood on the hands mares the vision of the revolution, dwindlin' it down ta nuthin' but murder. But rest assured, good will come'a this." - Cedric Popovici

"It's starting to feel like this world doesn't run off of what's right, but rather thrives off of what's profitable. We spill blood and we call it noble. We fire our rifles and call it a good cause with violent tendencies. Good, does not come for men like you and me. We died the moment we stepped into a revolution built on the backs of those who fought." - Havar Swanson

“I spent so long thinking something was wrong with me. Thinking that being who I am was wrong, and hateful. But as I learned to accept myself, and met a man in the shadows of the night, I came to realize hate convinces you love is just another afterthought of the foolish.” - Paige Newdelle

“Armello's a kind, soft, beautiful soul, loving me in all the colors we can see. And even some we can't, too. As he kisses me deep, and I run my fingers through his tangled hair, I know the lost can be found, even if it's in their own Neverland. Even if they have to find beauty in a Wonderland of our own.” - Paige Newdelle

“If I have to be somebody, I want to be somebody worth being.” - Camille Trueblood

“If I could, I'd wear all their scars for them. I'd let the darkness swallow me whole. For all my life, I've promised to be their mother, their hero, their best friend. When they're hurting, mama's always here to wrap em up in a big old hug and tell them everything'll be okay. And when they have secrets that dig into their hearts, they can always come to me and unburden themselves. I'll give them everything I never had. Because I lived in a loveless home, and I just want them to know though life can hurt, it can also be so, damn beautiful.” - Camille Trueblood

“In some way, my children are heroes to me, too. I was living a lonely life until I held my two baby girls in my arms. And slowly, more of my heroes came into my life and grew like seeds of love that just couldn't wait to blossom. I must be the luckiest woman alive, to have found such joy after the hurting. To find such love after my heart stopped beating.” - Camille Trueblood

“Truthfully, I'm not a masterpiece. But aren't I beautiful with these torn edges and faded colors?" - Camille Trueblood

“Scars can only exist so long as they're hidden.” - Camila Dillingo

“There's no greater misery, really. Then being surrounded in a field of hateful hands that poke and prod at your identity until you no longer feel like yourself past all those stains of mean spirited words and actions.” - Camila Dillingo

“I think family never ended with blood. It always started with the promise of loyalty, the promise of love that grows and changes with who we become.” - Camila Trueblood

“I know I'm just one voice in a crowd of shouts, but I always had this funny little idea that even just one person can change the world." - Camila Dillingo

“I often wonder who I would be if I was not me. And I often feel as if being a man I'm not would be kinder than being this man I am.” - Calliger Cougar

“I shook hands with a faceless devil, for he's worn a thousand different faces and a million different smiles, only to realize that truthfully, he can never be himself. Again and again he tells me he wants to wipe his slate clean, but his eyes are ever filled with immortal emotion. As are mine, as are mine.” - Calliger Cougar

“We're puppets dancing on nooses.” - Calliger Cougar

“My hands are stained in red emotion, my heart scarred the dirty color of emptiness, my eyes dripping with the tears other men couldn't bring themselves to shed.” - Calliger Cougar

“The world's grown tired now, and as it's eyes begin to close, and humanity reaches it's final hour, we should come to realize with the world's aching last breath, peace shall finally rise golden over the horizon. Humanity's become such a festering plague to themselves, and we're just waiting to rot away in bodies that aren't our own." - Calliger Cougar

“Life's become little more than an instinct, really. My heart beats because it always has, I breathe because that's what I've been doing all my life. I don't live because I want to. Because truthfully... I don't cherish my life.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I feel like a flower that's decayed, and people just take little pieces of my body away because they find beauty in the broken. But no light gets through my cracks.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I can still remember my mother's eyes, filled with ugly horror. And I can still remember all those nights spent in the dark, weeping because I wished this body wasn't mine. This scarred, bruised, fucked up body.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I've tried to escape myself in every way possible. I've touched the tips of death's fingers only to recoil at the feeling of her cold skin against mine. I've killed for substances that left me dreary and high, lost in a fucked up fantasy that I didn't earn. I can still remember the way cocaine tastes on my lip, the way the needle feels pressing against my bruised skin.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I'm like salt in coffee. Everyone always mistakes me for sugar, but recoil and hiss upon the tasting of me on their lip.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I'm just a heavy and cumbersome body carrying around bones that aren't even his.” - Burasbley Highersman

“People say we rise from our pain, but I was never a Phoenix, just a bird with broken wings that never learned how to fly.” - Burasbley Highersman

“Past dis hard shell, tiny cracks begin ta appear, cause dat's da life of a fighter. She swings 'er fists no matter da trouble dat comes 'er way. Dat's what life's about. My fathah taught me 'ow ta throw a fist at eight, I could throw my brothah outta the ring at ten. I've spent my whole life preparin' for the fight so that when it came 'round, I wouldn't be da one bloodied in the dirt.” - Ronda Blousey

“I've got black eyes and bloodied knuckles from all these wars I've waged.” - Ronda Blousey

“I'm a lioness, and my roar lives on the edge'a me bleedin' fist.” - Ronda Blousey

“The cruel, the damned and the monsters own this town in my heart. The inside of my ribcage is etched with old claws and gnashed, broken teeth. Because where all my memories used to hide, only scars now reside.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“Mark and my scars are all I've still got, because my heart beat's slow and only quickens in terror. Mark and I are feeble souls trying to make it to another day in each other's arms, but we feel so cold on each other's skin. We're lost, trying to find ourselves in each other, but I think that hope left us as our children became cold cases and became lost to an ever growing statistic that leaves wounds in the hearts of a parent.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“We're all just trying to gain some ground in the town of bastards and cheats, knowing even if we play the right cards, even if we roll double six or snake eyes, winning was never an option in a town of outlaws and sinners.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“I'm a cigarette tangled mess, skin etched with a mother's scars.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“I wish I remember what it was like. To be truly happy. But I suppose when you lose that big a piece of yourself, you'll never really feel complete. Because no matter how many part time substitutes you shove into that emptiness, it remains a blackhole, consuming everything else you thought you'd always have." - Ellise Kivenstein

“I've got pain in my heart where my mother used to be, and every now and then, I can still hear her ghost telling me no matter how far I fall, no matter how much pain I'm in, I'll always be her baby girl.” - Crescella Shroovet

“Truthfully, I'm playing Russian Roulette with my sorrow, wondering which of us will drop first. It's a dangerous game, fighting against your misery. Because the bastard cheats. I've learned to let go of the things that bring me pain. I can't climb a ladder of knives and blame myself for the way my palms bleed. I can't trudge up stairs of sticks and stones and blame myself for the way the soles of my feet begin to bloody.” - Crescella Shroovet

“My heart's a tapestry of my mother's words and loss, beating slow. Beating feeble. Beating truthful. I close my eyes and remember my mother's arms around me, and I tell myself, in a voice that sounds like hers', that everything'll be okay.” - Crescella Shroovet

“I woke up in a foreign land of ash and smoke, the remnants of my bridges burning in my nostrils and pulling tears from my eyes as I realize life gives no choice to the broken man.” - Asher Shroovet

“My mother used to tell me people are equal in the fact that they all have the choice to be good, but unequal in the choices they choose. But ever since my mother became a cold case in this heart of mine, I've begun to learn nothing ever changes. All but the weather and the nature of man.” - Asher Shroovet

“I used to be part of a silent crowd, anger sitting in my chest but never roaring. But I've learned silence is the kinda thing that kills, so with these scars in my voice, I let my roar be heard. Even if it's a little weathered. Even if it's a little broken.” - Asher Shroovet

“My sister and I are warriors of loss, mourning our angel's wings but knowing no warrior ever got to keep their halo. A hero is a man who fights with honor, sparing the bad man and the good man alike. A warrior is a man who does what needs to be done, giving no mercy to the cruel man because later down the line, another will die for the trigger you couldn't pull.” - Asher Shroovet

“I've learned pain's an immortal thing. Once you feel it, it never leaves you be. But it becomes easier and easier to live with as you grow, love and learn. We're all in pain. We're all hurting. It's what we do with that hurt that counts. It's who we become after the worst of it that makes us or breaks us." - Asher Shroovet

“My pain sits, like barbed wire under my shirt, bleeding me every time I move. Every time I sit. Every time I try to flee. My pain's in the gasps of my breath and the smoke that leaves my lungs. I'm a war of change and indifference, locked away in a barbed wire, human ribcage, wondering why my heart feels so locked up in the past.” - Bryan Jensen

“My memory's a thief in the night, stealing my joy. My safety. My sense of self. It rips into me, like a knife dragging thin white scars across my hurting mind and heart. Always reminding me that I'm not worth much past the words other people say. My scars whisper to me, begging me to add more to my collection. My traumas repeat, as if I'm under a roaring river, tumbling and breaking my bones on the stones of my fucked up memory.” - Bryan Jensen

“I stay alive, if only to protect her from my death.” - Bryan Jensen

“We were just two broken children in a fucked up home, hiding beneath dirty sheets and blankets. Wondering why love never found they who needed it the most.” - Bryan Jensen

“I can still hear the shouts of my father, the open palm of my mother. Their pain became my pain. Their words became my words. It was as if they were a fucked up religion, burying my sense of self underneath holy words and verses, bound in the righteous spine of a young boy's pain.” - Bryan Jensen

“I'm a grave bound shovel diggin' the holy their beds'a eternal slumber, made'a dirt and names forgotten by all but the fuckin' stone.” - Peter Scolifade

“Truth is, monstahs hide in da kindest'a men, and all it takes for that wicked bastard ta break outta his cage is one good reason. And friend, my monster found plenty'a reasons.” - Peter Scolifade

“Cold, deathly fingers wrapped around me chest, stained teeth bit down on my skin, opening red mouths in my scarred flesh. And as the monster within' tore through me, coverin' me in reasons ta die, I knew this was it. This is how saints fuckin' die.” - Peter Scolifade

“I grew up on an old dirt road with nuthin' ta call me own, lookin' for reasons ta live in the ink spilled sky. But brothah, all I found 'tween the stars were bullet shadows and gunpowder constellations whisperin' of the end'a old Saint Peter. And it was there, under the ol' night sky that Peter Scolifade died, and out from his corpse rose a man that looked like him. All but in those wicked eyes, cold and righteous with the promise'a grim ends ta come.” - Peter Scolifade

“I ripped through me sense'a self with a dead man's knife, partin' the red sea in my ribcage, barin' me black heart ta the shadows and monsters'a dis world. And as I fell back, a mess'a things that glisten red in da night and crimson that pools beneath dead men's feet, I knew I was no more than a murder, livin' on past 'is years as a ghost." - Peter Scolifade

“In my mind, it feels like two old friends have collided fist to fist and neither knows what they're fighting for.” - Brandall Mulligan

“Under lonely and begging colored bar lights, I met a devil, wrapped in desire and lust, and all the things that go bump in the night. She's cigarette smoke curling around a dead man's finger, whirring him back to life with empty promises and whispers of a grand becoming.” - Brandall Mulligan

“You know, a ghost of the gambling den once told me that the darkness is welcoming to those who don't fight it. And I'm starting to think he was right. Because the shadows look more forgiving then the light that burns like fire on my back.” - Brandall Mulligan

“I wouldn't take a bullet for me, so why should I expect anyone else to fight for me?” - Brandall Mulligan

“Bullets fall, like red rain down my ribcage, stainin' me heart the dirty color'a murder and whiskey bound misery.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“I was always broken knuckles and shattered windows, walkin' down an old dirt road, trustin' my revolver sooner than me old heart.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“I'm an outlaw of the old night sky, angel's fallin' through my scotch glass, devils clamberin' in the smoke'a my damn cigarette.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“My ma always told me the weak man's easy prey for the bullet, the lost sheep's an easy meal for the starvin' wolf. And oh son, you're beginnin' ta look a little lost, and I got some hunger on the edge'a my bleedin' tongue.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“We're all a silver coin away from a casket, we're all a cigarette away from a wildfire. Life don't care for the dead, but damn, it don't give much a damn bout the starvin' livin' neither.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“Dare ye whisper bout me sin, I'll make sure yer damned by Sunday mornin', beggin' the preacher ta forgive yer wicked misery.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“The thing about people is, they can't heal in the place where they were first hurt. Before they find peace, they've gotta leave the origin'a the pain behind.” - Wilford Straw

“The way I see it, we're all warriors in our own regard, hearts bared on whatever kinda sleeve we got. Be it leather, denim, bare or tattooed. Our hearts are out in the open, and the truth becomes the water in which we feed and grow.” - Wilford Straw

“I once asked a powerful man with pain in the cracks'a his smile and blood on the edge'a his razor where his fall from grace began. And he told me with flickers'a sorrow in his eyes that it started with death. It always starts with death. And sadly, that's what some men think. They tell emselves their already dead, so they never git ta thinkin' they can live again.” - Wilford Straw

“After the rain comes the bloomin.” - Wilford Straw

“The day I was born life gave me a blade and threw me into a war before I ever had a chance to learn how to swing my sword. And so I earned bruises I never should've suffered through, and my back's etched with scars I didn't have the right to earn.” - Liv Creek

“I see pieces of our father lost in his eyes, the lies of our mother dancing on his tongue. He tells me this is how it has to be. This is who he has to be to survive. But survival isn't worth it if it kills who you are.” - Liv Creek

“I'm a scarred warrior wielding a rusted blade against her demons, knowing their deaths come too slow.” - Liv Creek

“I've learned the path to strength is paved in the pain of the weak. Through this path of my own broken bones I stumble, pain hanging like a sword on my lip, heart hardly beating as I choose to survive rather than live. Don't cheer for the warrior as she passes you by, don't thank her for her sins. Mourn for her as you would a grave, weep for her as you would a lost one. Because the warrior is the weak girl who had no choice but to be strong and defy who she was in the face of her pain.” - Liv Creek

“I grew up believin' in all the little things. Like magic, and fairytales, and love that would last. But my Wonderland was stolen from me by a mad man's bullet, and as I look inta the eyes of a man I used ta call brother. Used ta call family. All I see is a tickin' clock, whisperin' that my old heart's runnin' out of time with each strike'a midnight. Boomin' like thunder in my mind.” - Buster Beckem

“Ya know, I've found that I find no comfort in the idea'a the future. The past's warm and welcome, wrapped in the blankets'a my love and the red lipstick'a my lover smeared on my paint stained cheek. But the future stands cold, flecks'a snow promisin' I won't make it out the other side a man that's me. And as I leave this Wonderland'a my memories behind, I know I leave with a heavy and burdened heart.” - Buster Beckem

“This old heart'a mine used to bare it's wings with pride, soarin' over the clouds and touchin' the sun with the tips of it's fingers. But it fell like an angel, graspin' at everythin' that made it feel loved as it faded away inta the future's distant twilight.” - Buster Beckem

“I've been countin' days ever since my love was lost on me. I've been savin' every smile in parts'a myself I hide. But I can't measure the loss in me. I can't begin ta describe this bruise on my tongue where her love used ta reside. I close my eyes and I can still see her sippin' from a chipped coffee mug, hair frizzy and orange, hands stained in blue and pink paint. I always told 'er she was a masterpiece, even if she weren't perfect. Even if she made mistakes. And now, as I lie down in an empty bed, I begin ta wish it was her arms around me rather than these tear stained cheeks. I begin ta wish it was her hand on my shoulder rather than a crow perched like loss on my jacket. And I begin ta wish, as I curl this finger around a trigger, that it was her fingers curled inta mine." - Buster Beckem

“I'm the color that stains your lips as you take your own off mine. I'm the color of your heart as she dances her clawed fingers against your scarred skin. And I'm the color that trails your body as she stains you with her venom love. But I'm the color of your rage, too. The color that bleeds from between your knuckles as you grip the broken pieces of your love. The color that stains your tongue as she bites down on your lip. How beautiful, how deadly, how strange, that I can be anything you want to be, and everything you never knew you needed. While also being the very thing that rips your heart from your chest, my hands thick with the color of love, and anger and pure blood that tastes innocent on the siren's lip.” - Kaia Harzelburg

“Don't you know monsters look like people? Don't you know sinners look like saints and taste like beauty on a heathen's bleeding tongue? I was always a serpent, fingers trailing against the holy as I mark them with my lust filled brand. It's foolish, to fall in love with the serpent, but I've pressed my lips against the skin of Eve and the forbidden fruit tastes of me as she bites down on the feeble flesh of sin. Of forbidden desire. Of deadly lust.” - Kaia Harzelburg

“They say we're all sinners, damned before we were ever born, but I don't think of it that way. Sin is earned, just as sainthood is fought for. Just as good is taught, just as evil is learned.” - Bobby Sticcs

“On the edge'a death I met a boy with misery and shadows in 'is eyes, carved inta like he was just another sheep fed ta the wolves. Never did I see war break a man so young, never before 'ad I seen a man bite down on bullets and call em his fangs. But in the eyes'a that boy, it wasn't war I saw. But hell, flickerin' in the eyes of a mad man.” - Bobby Sticcs

“Some men march off ta war for honor, others find the monster inside as the bullets begin ta fly. But in some way, we're all ghosts and monsters'a the trenches, as if those dirt dug battlefields were our Eden, our rifles our flaming blades. The pools'a red in the rain our forbidden fruit. And I 'spose that made they who sent us off ta die our serpents, lies and forbidden truths flickerin' from behind their damn teeth.” - Bobby Sticcs

“We can't live behind the lines'a our enemies, expectin' them ta care when we throw our lives on the wire thin line.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“Family don't end with blood, it starts with love.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“I've got an old heart that hums and whirs ta life upon the tappin'a Vernon's fingers 'gainst my cheeks. He's my gentle lullaby, and every time he presses his lips 'gainst mine, my heart bursts with colors I'd hardly 'ave recognized if it weren't for this love we share. We love each other in colors that didn't exist, but whirred ta life as our hearts collided.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“I've been on a long, treacherous road, throwin' my fists at da 'eart'a darkness, wonderin' why it looked like me own.” - Billy Jenkins

“In da past I see eyes I used ta love, caught in da rift between gunpowdah and survival, drownin' undah da tide'a sin and love. Swept away by the hungry, starvin' need ta stay alive. I can still remembah runnin' undah da willow wif' her, swearin' I'd love 'er for da rest'a me days. But where 'er 'eart used ta reside in moine, now sits a hungry bullet, carved with a name I recognize and used ta press against me lips. But this bullet feels cold between me teeth.” - Billy Jenkins

“I'll face me future wif' a baseball bat and a grin built off all da things it took ta survive. And as me sister tells me I'm 'er hero, I know dat even if me bones are etched wif' love lost ta the edge of a bullet and da loss'a me heroes, I can do me best ta do good by her.” - Billy Jenkins

“Da broken man wif love all around 'im is blind to da beauty before 'im." - Billy Jenkins

“There's not much man can control, all but the words that tumble like devilry from his tongue.” - Beutler De Niro

“I'm a business man, and everywhere I go I see business in black hearts and lies that shake the soul.” - Beutler De Niro

“Many have described me as a monster, but I'm human, and that's what makes me so dreadfully horrific to all who witness my blood stained revelry.” - Beutler De Niro

“Do you know what lies do to man? They sit, like a guillotine's shadow over the good man's neck, slowly wilting away their sense of self like a rose decaying to black. And eventually, through the lies of cruelty, the good man dies, and from his corpse, the husk of a wolf begins to rise.” - Beutler De Niro

“Any man will pull the trigger if told it's for his own good. Anyone will sin under the light of anonymity. We're monsters beating in black hearts, convincing ourselves that in our deadly sin, that we're human. But we never were. We never will be. We haven't been human ever since Cane rose a stone against Abel, ever since Eve took a bite from the dead man's fruit.” - Beutler De Niro

“Don't mistake my kindness for the truth, my friend.” - Beutler De Niro

“I've seen misery in the form'a rusted hatchets and dusty black coats bitin' at the wind, but I ain't gonna let this murder'a crows be the damn death'a me.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“I'm a spurred boot outlaw, kickin' her way ta freedom as the bastard sons'a darkness open fire at the girl they just can't catch.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“Some folks think power's found in the edge of a revolver with a hammer pulled back. But ya could never fire power from a dead man's gun. Power always came in the form'a good people helpin' other good folks make it ta sunrise. Power's found in the good hearted, in the justice bound, in the heroes and do gooders'a this world.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“I refuse ta stand by as bad men get their kicks at the edge of a hatchet's malice.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“The sunrise waits for all who sit in the dark, and the stars shine for all those who are lost. No matter where you go, light always shimmers, preparin' to let ya back inta her gentle embrace once more. Don't dare lose yerself ta the delusion that redemption don't come for those who've hurt." - Dolly Rainbolt

“I've been a dead man walkin' ever since I first dug a grave, and under that shallow dirt, two men lie. Ol' Thomas Quisly and Margrave Ed'Collinmellow. And together, they rot, like shadows under the light's festerin' grave.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Welcome ta the wastelands, where the weak become blood on the strong's teeth, and the strong stand above like a shadow'a survival and misery.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Good luck tryin' ta kill this vessel'a rotted flesh and hollow heart. My humanity was ripped into by stained, yellow teeth. It pulled away at the flesh. At the mercy. At the goodness in me. Until nuthin' but a festerin' heart'a sins sat where Margrave Ed'Collinmellow used ta be. Shadow, and cruelty bit inta my heart and tasted the redness in me, stainin' their teeth with innocence and purity. Until all that ran through my veins was dark.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“The world's gone quiet these days, all but the moans'a hunger that come from the wax white graves'a man. And here I stand, just like the biters and creepers that shamble and bite.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Ever since my mother was taken from me for the things she did to survive, I've been left out alone like a criminal amongst the dead and weary. I've spent my whole life fighting a war, just trying to survive. Just trying to get back to my mother. But fate tore us apart before it brought us together, and all I can do is clutch these memories and whisper, "I wish you were here." - Hazel Winchester

“On the dark and grimed streets I met insanity, reflected in yellow teeth and cold blue eyes. They called themselves the unforgivables, and as my death flashed in the silver of their knives, I knew why they could never be forgiven. They made a warrior out of me, but I won't thank them for these wolves' claws.” - Hazel Wincester

“I wish my mother was here to tell me how to survive. To wrap me up in her tattooed arms and tell me everything's going to be okay. But she's a broken piece in my memory, always bleeding me. Always reminding me that she's not here.” - Hazel Winchester

“Always reminding me that she's not here. I speak in the tongue of violence. My words have become steel clashing on steel. My song has become blood on innocent hands. And this language I speak has become teeth gnashing and biting at the good in me until all that remains is the survival, in me.” - Hazel Winchester

“I'm a lion lookin' ta the grey and empty sky, wonderin' why the only color I see is red.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Dare not walk inta the shadow of the circus, where bad things are done in the dark and plastic teeth rip inta the hearts'a the frail and weary.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Wherever I go, there's a siren callin' me name in strobe lights'a red and blue, tellin' me I'll be the last one standin' in a murder full'a crows. But here I sit, as the one beast I can't tame, my heart nocturnal, my ribs broken by the beast that rattles in my damn chest.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Look deep inta the eyes'a those who preform and you'll begin ta find it's pain that drips from their tears. Our laughs are made'a glass and we're just the beasts taught how ta dance. There lies no beauty in this paradise, for Eden's been consumed by a serpent's maw, and the angel who swore ta protect lies silent in the belly'a the snake.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Long ago I asked life what I'd become, and as I stared at a pool'a my own blood, all I could see was a red lion reflected in me pale and hungry eyes.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Life is lived at it's best when it's simple. When it's beautiful in it's odd and whimsical mundane fantasies.” - Beckett Cruvell

“My thoughts and who I am just don't align, cause as things begin to change, my regret stays stagnant. And it claws at me, ripping through my throat as it says, "I wish you the best with me by your side." - Bartholomew Stiller

“I've spent my whole life wanting to bring justice to the cruel, to bring peace to the good. But as red and blue sirens blare in my head, coloring the smoke and fog the color of justice and division, I begin to realize I'm just a gunshot echoing between my own dead eyes.” - Bartholomew Stiller

“Who am I past this anger? Past these sins? Past the gunshot fired off in rage and bitter consequence?” - Bartholomew Stiller

“Some secrets are better left undug, but there I stood, shovel in hand, unaware it was a grave I dug for myself. And as I fell, clutching at roots and dirt, I came to realize looking for secrets in the dark is like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded chamber. And damn, man. I just pull that trigger.” - Bartholomew Stiller

“What a wonderful world it is, ink, rippling like blood in the water, stars blinking out as humanity whither and dies like a daffodil God forgot.” - Azralos Crossvine

“Do you wish to kill me? Good luck. Killing a man with such power is no easy task. For his words live on in the empty hearts of the men and women who stood so gleefully under his boot's shadow. My words live on like a growing weed in the garden of Eden, choking the life from the roses and leaving a bush of thorns behind. It's not so hard, killing a man with simple phrases such as, "You are saved," And, "In the eyes of God, you are forgiven." - Azralos Crossvine

“I've watched men put a gun against their temple and pull the trigger for the grace of God. I've watched people leap from cliffsides to appease the clouds and stars. I've got blood on my hands, and they are drenched in the kind of words that kill.” - Azralos Crossvine

“I was just a young and dumb shot in the dark, hurtling toward a target he didn't know shared his damn name.” - Avian Browdy

“I stare heavy into the empty eyes of fate, and with a broken claw, he carves bits and pieces of me away from myself, until I can hardly call myself human with these puzzle piece scars etched into my damn skin.” - Avian Browdy

“You know, an old friend once told me monsters look just like us. They share our eyes and pretend to be human, but when they smile, and the sun glints pale on their fangs, you best know to run head over heels to escape a fate of claws and reddened maw.” - Avian Browdy

“Peace don't live in the man mercy forgot but hate remembered.” - Avian Browdy

“Shadows exist as extant forms of us, and as regret claws at my throat, I know it left it's scarf behind in my life, only to come back for it years later and fashion it into a noose around my fucking throat." - Avian Browdy

“People break you down and cast their stones against you, just to say, "That's life, better get used to it before it kills you." But cruelty was never life, just death coming for the hurting souls early.” - Gabianna Santinos

“The cruel and hateful look for justification for what they've done, condemning they who they've hurt just to feel as if they're righteous in their cruelty, in their hate. But there was never any justification in hate, just the way our emotions bleed onto others. Like a red rain coming from the dark clouds of our misery.” - Gabianna Santinos

“You can't spend your life wasting away into emotions better left spoken. You've got to let the truth speak for you when your words can't.” - Gabianna Santinos

“Mistakes are what we learn from, they build who we are, but they also leave scars. Truthfully, I'm haunted by the things I've done and the people I've hurt. They sit in my mind like ghosts who just don't wanna leave me be, reminding me that worst parts of me are the ones running the show.” - Sam Wormwood

“She saw past the worst parts of me, and told me that she was here for all of me, not just shards and pieces of me. But these days, it feels as if I'm a wayward archer with an arrow that never flew. My arrows sit in my heart, like holes of loyalty and intention. I'm always bleeding. Because I've got blood on my hands and memories I wish I could forget.” - Sam Wormwood

“As I looked into the eyes of someone I called brother, and saw nothing but cruelty in his eyes, I realized who we're around influences who we are. And I'd become cruel in the search for brotherhood. But as he swung his fist, and I laid him in the dirt, it still felt as if karma would come for me with eyes I recognized.” - Sam Wormwood

“I have to wonder if that's an angel or regret lying on my shoulder.” - Sam Wormwood

“I was just a rough and bruised country girl lookin' for a fight 'til I met her. And all of a sudden, as she pressed her lips 'gainst mine and told me I was loved, it felt as if my bruises and scars were healin', fadin' away like stars as the sun gently wraps it's arms 'round the pale orange sky.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“We're all burdened souls, buildin' up our strength ta lift the weight'a the world. But we never realize that we don't oughta do it alone. Ya see, we git this idea that our burdens are ours ta carry, and ta have another help us lift that weight would be selfish. But those who love ya are always willin' ta stand by your side and relieve ya of the burdens that leave ya crippled, gaspin' for air in an empty heart.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“I'll never come ta understand why folk choose ta succumb ta rage and cruelty, but he who pulls the trigger ta end a life's no soldier. Just a killer dressed in noble intentions.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“Home ain't some place you can go. It's found in the eyes'a love, in the hearts'a family. It ain't where you're born, it's where you felt like you could truly live." - Morice Bronzinheit

“It seems his flickering smile follows me wherever I go, and when I look into my eyes, it's his I see.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“Every now and then, my sorrow comes for me. There is no end, nor a beginning, just circles and circles of sorrow as I dance my way around the edge of misery.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“I sit like a softly spoken sorrow at the bottom of my ribcage, weeds and black rot growing out from my promises, out from my lies, until I can hardly call myself a garden with all this decay in me.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“Being who I am's such a lonely, quiet thing. It feels as if I'm cursed to this circle of sorrow and remembrance. And whiskey was always easier to swallow then the idea that I'd never return to myself. Easier to swallow then the tears, the grief, the anger.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“All my life, I've been a bruised knuckled, broken glass kind of woman, anger running like blood through her veins, fist always curled back, jaw always clenched. Because life was a fight and I'd spent my days losing.” - Avarell Boneson

“I'm an angry serenade, followed by the slight echoes of peace. But as my daughter wraps a blanket around my scarred shoulders, and tells me I'm her hero, it feels as if I've always had a place in this world. And it's to protect that girl, full of spunk and curiosity for a world that don't leave girls like her be.” - Avarell Boneson

“I've always been a fighter, but what becomes of the warrior when she's no more battles left to fight? When she's no more reasons to throw her fists?” - Avarell Boneson

“I've lived my life in a violent blackout, and I've hardly been who I am. But as I hum my daughter another lullaby, and my sister tells me I'm her hero, it feels as if I'm falling together into a person that's me. I've been cold steel and wildfire smoke for too long. I just want to be the peaceful melody that lulls my anger to sleep. But my rage sits in my curled up fist, and as I clench my jaw and prepare for another battle, I know life's not through with this wounded warrior yet. So I put rage into the chamber of my revolver and let it fly." - Avarell Boneson

“You know, my brother used to tell me that he's met death a thousand times, and as the world began to fall, I began to wonder if it was all the ghosts he'd met, falling like angels from the wounded and burning sky.” - Ash Plucker

“I used to fight who I am, my knuckles bloodied from wars I never should've fought. Because hiding from yourself is such a strange, accepted kind of misery. But as I cut my hair and traded my dresses for a leather jacket and old, torn jeans, I felt like I was slowly beginning to become me. I'd always known I wasn't a girl, but I'd never wanted to be a man either. So I'll just exist, I'll be me, and that's all I ever really needed to be, huh?” - Ash Plucker

“Cruelty never had a place in this world. It echoes on the tips of bad men's tongues, justifying it's existence by claiming it's name is survival. But if you cast it's shawl aside, you'll soon realize blood for blood was always just cruelty in disguise.” - Ash Plucker

“I've spent my whole life trying to avoid this person I am, tripping over identities that weren't me, covering my face with paint to kill the scars that whisper the story of how the joyful girl died. I've got a heart made of cracked and fragile glass, and whenever someone dares whisper who I am, it crumbles into my stomach and I bleed on these pieces of my heart.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I've never known peace, all but when Heather touches a rough hand against my cheek and tells me I'm hers'. She loves me as I am, and just as the sun loves the moon, she's here for me in all my phases, loving whichever emotion chooses to rear it's head and bare it's teeth. If it weren't for her, I'd be long gone, drifting away into the empty just to avoid this person I am. But she makes this heart of mine a bit less lonely of a place to hide.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I wish I was a war cry, but I'm just a fragile whisper, and the only ones that can hear me are the ones that care enough to listen. To everyone else, I'm just a ghost sitting on the edge of her identity, as if she wanted to leap, but didn't have the courage to fall.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I swear, those I loved follow me like ghosts in the smoke, and just as I close my eyes and think I'm okay, I find myself fading away into memories too close to forget, but too far away to crawl back to.” - Amalda Greene

“I'm haunted by the heat on my skin, by the smoke and cinders in my lungs. My mind's becoming a grave, haunted by my memories ever drifting, and no matter where I go, I can't escape this ghost of who I've become. My mom would tell me to put it all behind me, put on a brave face and think of better days. But honestly? I don't think better days are coming.” - Amalda Greene

“Life ain't just some sorrow bloody repeated, it's every mistake ya made on the way ta success.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“We're all questions ta ourselves until we earn da courage ta find da bloody answer.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“Power, I've learned, makes inhuman monstahs outta 'umanity, moldin' the good like clay, wettin' it's hands in the blood'a da merciful until da peace is no more.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“I once looked to da skies and asked for somebody ta shatter me so I could become somebody new. And out of these broken pieces, I built somebody worth bloody bein'.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“Some people want to stick to lies, just as lies have stuck to them, but we can't really find peace if we're at constant war with the truth.” - Rust Ashena

“In truth, I'm not made of stone. My bones are fragile and easy to break, my emotions whir like glass in my head, and my hands are scarred with blood and broken nails. But I'm a soldier.” - Rust Ashena

“In all this war, in all this pain, I must at least remember, I've got people who fight for me. In my garden of black petaled roses and problems, a single rose stands, like a bloom of red I'll never come to understand. When Camallo pulls me into his embrace and tells me he'll never let go, I know that at least in his love, I'm safe. He holds me while I fall apart, threading my stitches back together as I begin to unravel. Often, I feel six foot under all this doubt, all this pain, all these scars, but Camallo's always there, shovel in hand, ready to dig away at the mourning man's grave.” - Rust Ashena

“On the edge of the horizon, I see a silver lining, and I start to believe it looks like his smile, like the way his fingers curl into mine, like the way he looks at my scars as if they were a beautiful tattoo telling the story of the way I died and was born again.” - Rust Ashena

“I was just an x value I couldn't understand, trying to catch my answers in the wind as lies drifted on by. But it feels like, when Melania took my hand in hers' and told me she loved me for the very first time, I'd finally found the answer to who I wanted to be. When she pressed her lips against mine, everything began to fall into place, every question became an answer, all the unknown became known, as if my heart had always known what it needed.” - Glorice Shaywalker

“It's not the bruises that matter, or the scars, but how we let them heal.” - Glorice Shaywalker

“I'll always remember the way the gunfire echoes and ripples, as if it was a stone skipping across a lake of all the lives it would touch.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“I heard once, that she who fights for the world is very rarely fought for, and as I struggle to get to my feet, I've come to learn no one's fighting for me, and it's my own feeble fists I must raise.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“My ribs are etched with what it took to survive, my tongue wet with the blood that fills my mouth when I bite down on my tongue to keep these emotions in my skull.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“My body's a battlefield, and my heart beat sounds like a bullet casing hitting against the crimson river.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“A man I look up to once told me that we're not strong, just broken, trying to carry the weight of the world with two human hands. And as my sister looks at me, swearing up and down I'm her hero, I begin to realize heroes exist only in the eyes of those who haven't tasted war on the edge of their tongue.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“I used to be a question to the world, lost in doubt and visions of who I could be. But as I embraced myself, and found my answer hidden deep in my little beating heart, I knew this is who I was meant to be. People ask us to change while they stay the same, lost in ignorance and hate until it becomes the air in their lungs and the tears in their eyes.” - Amanda Blaze

“I was lost, stumbling in the dark, until the light of my identity flashed like a torch in the horizon. It was only for a moment, like a whisper, but it was enough for me to follow the memory of the warmth and light I felt when I was accepted as I am.” - Amanda Blaze

“Love lives in all of us like a seed, and we're just waiting for someone to come along, not afraid to get their hands dirty as they dig through our identity and scars with loving, gentle human fingers.” - Amanda Blaze

"I watched all my friends become strangers, and I'm just sitting here in their shadow wondering why I couldn't save them from the darker side of life. But I guess monsters always look at us with eyes we sadly recognize." - Jess Mercikal

“We're all looking for someone who makes us feel safe and comfortable in who we are, and when I look into my daughter's eyes, and I feel my wife's hands on my cheeks, I know I've found my safety. And I'll never find myself falling without knowing I'll survive the landing.” - Alicia Winnefred

“Life can seem so complicated, but all it takes to live is a few simple things that make you, you.” - Alicia Winnefred

“Some people say we die much before we ever live, but if you've done it right, than as you lay down for your final rest, you'll have lived, and lived, and lived, and in some odd, beautiful little essence, you'll never die. Because flowers will bloom on your grave, and that's where you'll sit, like a smile that never forgot the sorrow that made it shine so bright." - Alicia Winnefred

“I am a lie so often told, and in the pen of sheep I sit, draped in white wool with dapples of red, waiting for the opportunity to rip my teeth through the feeble skin of truth.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“My heart never beat, my mind never felt. The rare times I did, feel, was in the emotion that rippled in a dying man's eyes.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“The sheep is easily fooled into thinking he's safe, because so often wolves wear wool on their backs and kindness in their smiles, hiding the blood behind their fangs and murder behind a handshake.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“I'm just a little spider, spinning his web and watching in glee as the fly finds himself caught, struggling and festering like murder flashed on the newspaper headline's. With hungry fangs and blood filled eyes, I descend on the weary fools caught in my web of lies, sinking my teeth into their skin and ripping scars into their minds as I taste them, like a tragedy on my lips.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“My friend, gaze to the midnight sky and tell me what you see. Stars, twinkling with wishes, or specters of something that was once beautiful, shining in the dark like a grave marked with a corpse instead of stone? And then, I want you to look into my eyes, and tell me what the night sky means to a man who spills blood as if it were ink on a page, spilling into poetry and prose. I'm a vessel through which murder and lies see. Nothing more." - Akolzo Cometsphire

"Mercy is a fool's game for a cruel man." - Bovine Thukkit

"The most fearful foe of all is the one that haunts you with a long dead friend's smile." - Maxmillius Sharonbew

"Boy, you think that was death? You ain't met death 'til ya've felt her fragile, cold fingers on the edges'a your back and spine. You ain't met death until she stares back atcha with cracked glass eyes as ya look inta the old mirra. Death, Martin fucking Hatcherfly, tasted like barbed wire, bitin' down on a thirsty tongue." - Apollo Dreadful

"My anger claws at me feral, like a woman raised by wolves. Biting, clawing, scratching at the corners of my heart and skull, as if her teeth were made to kill and her claws were made of steel. And there's somethin' so temptin' about the beauty of the anger that lost it's peace in the gentle maw of wolves." - Kurizo Chandlewick

"The dark came in quiet whispers and deadly screams, as if the sky had ripped into itself, thrashin' and howlin' with the light of a thousand dyin' dreams. And that's what his shadow looks like. Them wolves are lightnin' strikes in our sky, and he's just the heavy clouds full with rain and thunder." - Miallo Strawburry

#writing #characters #author #dialouge

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mrsrcbinscn · 3 years

Text

Mother Mayhem || bdrptask

Word count: 6241

Description: Different moments between Franny and her mother, Sophea, featuring a common thread.

CW: Nothing triggering is discussed in detail but I wanna put some content warnings for the following; violence, implied slurs, slut-shaming, violence, mentions of what you’d expect from broaching the topic of Khm*r R*uge

Sophea Sor was never one to hide things from her daughter. Many survivors of war and the like shielded their children from their stories but Sophea was always straightforward about why she had to leave Cambodia.

Age appropriate, of course.

She didn’t whip out words like killing fields and genocide when her daughter was small, but she did explain that some very bad people caused some bad things to happen. She explained that people were very sick, very sad, and very hungry but couldn’t find food, so that was why she had to come to America.

As her daughter grew older, she filled in the gaps.

Five years old…

Mak had to leave Cambodia because people were fighting and hurting each other, and people they weren’t even fighting with got hurt too.

“Mak, I’m sleepy,” five year old Darareaksmey complained, crawling into her mother’s lap the second her mother sat down for probably the first time that day.

Without taking a sip of water from the plastic cup she’d just filled, a woman ran her hands, the color of the spiky balls that fall from sweetgum trees through the little girl’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She pulled the hair tie out of her own hair and began to work her daughter’s hair into a braid.

“You’ll be even sleepier after we finish cleaning the restaurant, baby. Then you can go straight to bed instead of tossing and turning until you do fall asleep.”

“I want to go to bed nooooow.” The little girl pouted, crossing her arms across her chest and letting out an indignant huff. “Why do I have to clean, I’m five. Jobs are for adults.”

“It’s not a job if I’m not paying you, silly.” Sophea Sor said, tying the ponytail holder around the braid. “It’s just chores. Kids don’t get paid for chores. Be lucky yours are inside and we don’t have a farm.”

“Ew, farm cows are smelly.”

“That’s right, now do you think you can mop the floor while I finish the dishes in the back?”

“Mhm. Can I sit down a minute first?”

“We can start after we finish this water.”

Six years old…

A lot of people died, that’s why Mak doesn’t have a daddy, and she got separated from her own mak. None of her family could come to her wedding because she wasn’t sure if any of them were still alive and where in the world they might be. That was why little Darareaksmey being supportive of her mother marrying Adrien was so important.

“Let go of my hair, Art! Or I’ll beat you up!” Darareaksmey shouted at her soon-to-be brother as he pulled on her braid, making her flail her arms wildly in her attempts to wallop him. “I’m gonna break your face!”

Gaston groaned as he flicked a fuzz off of his wedding clothes, realizing he was going to have to step in if they kept this up. He did not want to step in! Dara might be younger than him and Art both but she could punch! But if he teamed up with her and hit Art, then Art would get mad and say he betrayed his brother for their step-sister, and Dara would cry because she can stay ‘step-brother’ all she wants but the second the boys say ‘step-sister’ she throws a fit, and then she and Art would just start a new fight.

Being the big brother was exhausting sometimes.

Luckily, Gaston didn’t have to choose whose side to fight on, because Sophie glided into the room to pry the youngest two apart.

“Dara, be nice to your brother,” Sophie muttered, gently tugging her hair out of the braid to re-do it.

“He started it! And he’s not my brother, he’s just Adrien’s son!”

Sophie sighed and with one hand continued to unbraid her daughter’s hair, and with the other, beckoned Art to come closer. “That’s not what you were saying a few days ago, when we tried on your dress for the wedding. You said you were excited to have two big brothers.”

“That was before I realized Art was mean!” Dara stuck her tongue out at him.

“Brothers and sisters are mean to each other. Sometimes. Other times, they play together. But all of the time they don’t let anybody else be mean to each other.” Sophie explained as she started to fix Dara’s hair. “But. Art should apologize for pulling your hair.”

Sophie stared at Art with disapproving mom eyes until he shuffled his feet and looked down at them sheepishly. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair, Dara. And called you ugly. And said I didn’t want an ugly sister. And said your flowers smelled like butt. They don’t smell like butt.”

“Am I ugly?”

“You’re not ugly, I was just being mean. You’re a perfectly not ugly sister I’m excited to have after my daddy marries your mommy!”

Twelve years old…

About a quarter of the population of her mother’s home country died during the Khmer Rouge regime. Franny was lucky to have been born at all, and she should be very proud her mother taught her their language and culture.

Franny couldn’t remember the last time someone other than her mother used her given name except to make fun of it. Even her brothers called her Franny by then.

It was the start of a new school year and Franny dreaded the first day; not because of having to wake up early, not because of having to do homework again soon, but because new school years meant new teachers and new teachers. And new teachers for Franny and the handful of other children of Southeast Asian refugees in town meant a horrid butchering of their names at roll call.

It was the same song and dance every year.

Inevitably, one teacher would get to Phuc Kieu’s name and say something that sounded like “fuck you” and the class would laugh while Phuc meekly raised his hand and said, “You can just call me James.”

Serey Mam was lucky, it wasn’t hard to correct ‘Siri’ or ‘Sare-ee’ or ‘Sar-ee’ to ‘Sa-rey.’

It was the Lao kids that Franny felt most sorry for. Franny could only pronounce and spell Chanthanouvong, Douangphachanh, Nanthavongdouangsy, and Sibounheuang because she was also Southeast Asian so she bothered to learn. But at least with Serey’s name, teachers tried. With the Lao names they took one look at them and said ‘time to butcher it in the most egregious way possible.’

She had mad respect for Chitpasong Nanthavongdouangsy, who refused to go by an “American name” and forced teachers to learn to say Chitpasong. “I was born here,” Chitpasong said one time. “Chitpasong is an American name because I’m an American person.” Franny wished that six year old Darareaksmey had had that resolve, and wished twelve year old Franny could summon it, but she didn’t. She’d rather only hear Darareaksmey from her mother because at least she said it right.

“You look a bit glum.”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

“Hi, Mak.” Franny said, waving as she grabbed the last of the dishes from the soapy water to rinse it.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want summer to end?”

Franny shook her head. “No, I kind of miss all my friends. You know, the ones not in bicycling distance. I just don’t like the first day.”

Sophie let her daughter rinse and dry the final dish before she pulled one of the dining chairs out and snapped her fingers, manicured nail pointing down at it. Franny sat down as her mother grabbed the brush from her purse resting open on the table.

“Were girls mean to you last year?” Sophie asked as she got to brushing the knots out of Franny’s hair.

“Not really, I just punch them if they are.”

“Darareaksmey, we don’t resort to violence.”

“It’s my last resort, I promise, but it’s on the table.”

“So what’s wrong?” Sophie grabbed the hair tie from around her wrist and held it between her teeth as she started to braid from the top of Franny’s head. “You let me get this far, so you’re trapped now.”

“It’s the teachers. I hate roll calls on the first day.” She admitted. “I feel embarrassed.”

“About?”

“My name.”

That gave Sophie pause but her hands quickly got back to work on Franny’s hair. “Why?”

“They...say it wrong. Nobody can say Darareaksmey.”

“It’s not a name from their language, I’m sure it is difficult.”

“They don’t even try, it’s why everyone calls me Franny, nobody has ever tried. And it makes me feel embarrassed and sorry that I have such a weird name.”

Sophie was quiet for a long moment, her deft hands working at her daughter’s hair, until she spoke up again. “Are you embarrassed? To be Cambodian. About your name.”

“No...it just feels bad when they get it wrong. So I let them call me Franny. Is that bad?”

“No. I let them call me Sophie, don’t I? As long as you know how powerful your name is and why it's so special.”

Franny turned her head toward her mother but Sophie clicked her tongue and angled her head back forward, muttering something about her hair looking lopsided if she did that again. “Heeeeey, I was paying attention to you.”

“You’re trapped in this seat, you have to pay attention even with your back turned.”

“Fair. Why’s my name special?”

“Because you are. I thought very hard about your name. Darareaksmey means ‘bright, shiny star’. I know you remember I was raising you alone before I married your father. You remember, right?”

Franny, truthfully, sometimes forgot that Adrien Framagucci wasn’t always in her life. It was easy to forget that he wasn’t her biological father because she had never known any other man to be her father. She didn’t know her biological father’s name. Did she want to? Maybe. She hadn’t ever thought about it enough to decide anything; or to consider there was anything to decide.

Adrien raised Franny. Not only raised her, but he’d wooed her by proving what a great dad he’d be at the same time he was courting her mother. When he came to Mr. Tran’s home to pick Sophie up for dates, he’d bring Franny some amaryllis flowers he’d grown himself. A thanks for letting me borrow your mother today, he’d say. When Franny won Kindergarten student of the month at her elementary school, Adrien asked Sophie if he could treat Franny to a celebration dinner. When Franny mentioned the memory offhand a few years later Sophie said he did that to audition to be Franny’s dad.

Your father always knew that if he wanted me to believe he loved me, he’d have to love you, too. You were always part of the deal. He wanted to be your dad so he got to proving it to you.

If her original dad didn’t even stick around long enough for her to remember him but the dad she had put as much effort into wooing her as he did with her mother...then was it worth knowing about him? At twelve, Franny didn’t think it was.

“Yeah, I remember living in Mr. Tran’s shed with you.” Franny said.

“It used to be a shed. Mr. Tran fixed it up to be a tiny little house, we had a tiny little kitchen and air conditioning! Right, so you remember it was just me and you...we aren’t the only Cambodians in Clayton County, are we?”

Franny shook her head. “There’s some at my school. And some that live in Lovejoy, Riverdale, and Jonesboro that work at the restaurant.”

“Mhm. Are any of them your Aunties and Uncles? I know we call everyone Auntie and Uncle, but are they my brothers and sisters?”

“...y...yes? Yes, right?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not one. You’ve heard me talk about my brothers and sisters in Cambodia, right? The ones I climbed trees with or who helped me sneak back into the house at night, I talk about them sometimes. I had eleven of them.”

“...had?”

“I’m not sure how many are still living. Or where they might be.”

“Don’t you have their phone numbers, Mak?”

Sophie chuckled, the warmth in it seeming out of place to Franny even at that age. It seemed like her mother was broaching a very sad and difficult topic. Cambodia was always a toss-up. It was either sad or so happy it sounded like heaven or nirvana. This did not seem like the setup to one of her mother’s rose-colored talks about Cambodia.

“Or can you write letters?”

“I don’t know anything, my love.” Sophie admitted. This was the first time Franny had heard her mother say ‘I don’t know anything’ since she’d been alive! “I know some of the ones who died early on during the Khmer Rouge. Because I was there when they did. But eventually we became separated, and by the time I escaped to Thailand I didn’t know where they were. My brothers, sisters, my cousins. My own mak.”

“What about your dad?”

“Dead. That one, I know for sure.”

“...what happened?”

“That part, I’ll tell you when you’re older. You’re still a child, dear. I’m only telling you some of the basics today.” She cleared her throat and continued. “I escaped across the border into Thailand and accepted I’d never see my family again. I decided it would be an insult to them to not keep living though, so I waited to be resettled to a safer country as a refugee. First I was in Thailand. Then at a re-education center in The Philippines. And then I found out I was going to America. I wasn’t here very long when I got pregnant with you.”

“You weren’t married or anything?”

“I was not. And I had to stop working where I was working, and then I didn’t have any more money. That’s when I walked into Mr. Tran’s restaurant and tried to trick him into thinking I was Vietnamese. He picked up my Cambodian accent right away and told me that we are united by the wars waged by the West in our countries and by our struggles in America. Mr. Tran gave me a job, right away, and even let me move in with his family. Until he converted the shed into a little house, we lived in the main house with his family. We shared a room with his youngest daughter.”

“Leah?”

“That’s right. So. I was alone. I was unmarried. I barely spoke English at the time; I knew French and Vietnamese from Cambodia, of course Khmer is my native tongue, but my English was embarrassing. Still is.”

“No way, Mak! You speak English better than anybody who says that about you!” Franny argued, whirling her head around to face her mother now that she felt her hands move from her hair. “Who says that about you? I’ll cook them into soup!”

“Not. The. Point.” Sophie chastised bonking Franny on the nose with the pad of her index finger to emphasize each word. “The point is. It was a scary time for me when I first came to this country. And then when I found out I was pregnant with you it was even scarier. I wondered if I should give you up so a family with more money could raise you. Mr. Tran isn’t wealthy himself, you know, it was a situation where the poor were helping the beggar. Sometimes I still think you would have been better off...but I couldn’t do it. Maybe it was selfish to keep you, but I was so alone. I knew I’d probably still be lonely after I had you. Babies don’t learn to talk for years and even then, you’re my child, not my friend. But I could raise you to love Cambodian culture. I could teach you my language. I could make sure you knew the beautiful parts about where you came from. After everyone I ever knew was either dead or scattered who knew where around the world, I decided that raising you to be a proud Cambodian would be worth all of that loneliness.”

Franny, had she been a couple years older, would have cried. At fourteen she might have had the emotional depth to fully comprehend what she meant to her mother. At twelve, she understood a great deal, but it did not quite move her to tears. Though, she instinctively reached for her mother’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.

For a moment, she thought she saw the ghost of fear in her mother’s eyes, or the closest thing to it she could place at that age when her biggest fear was wasps.

“Do you miss Cambodia, Mak?” Franny asked quietly.

“Every day. It is a beautiful country. But it is one I will never see again so there is no use dwelling on it.”

“Don’t say that, we can go someday.” Franny said, pouting.

Sophie clicked her tongue at her daughter, shaking her head. “It’s too expensive. No go to your room and finish your homework. I don’t want to hear a single guitar chord until you finish.”

Twenty years old...

The purging of intellectuals included doctors, students, artists, and musicians. The grandfather Franny never got to meet was a doctor and he died because of it. Her mother had been a university student, studying to be a doctor herself, and lied that she was a seamstress to survive. One of brothers she knew did not survive had been a musician. Sophea had more reasons than financial stability to worry about her daughter insisting on doing music.

Franny supposed she was lucky.

Unlike some of her first-generation friends, her mother didn’t put that much pressure on her to marry a Cambodian man. There was never any matchmaking, any suggestions of an arranged marriage meeting, nothing like that. However, the first question Sophie asked when Franny told her mother that she had joined NYU’s Southeast Asian Student Association was “are there any nice Cambodian boys, Darareaksmey?”

It was then that Franny understood that her mother hoped for a Cambodian son-in-law even if she would not pressure her to select one. It was also clear to her that while her mother accepted her bisexuality, she did tend to assume she’d end up married to a man, perhaps even wished she would. In the 90s and early 2000s though, Franny took that as a blessing.

Franny did intentionally go on dates with a few Cambodian guys. She’d even had a third date planned with one.

Enter Cornelius Robinson. Mega-genius. Absolute nerd. Hair you just wanna run your hands through. Mild-mannered. Kind. Actually interested in what she had to say. And very Not Cambodian.

It was frankly embarrassing how quickly she was all in for that man. She didn’t have to spend all that much time with him for her to understand how her mother must have felt when she began seeing her father.

Christmas break rolled around and she figured she should introduce her boyfriend to her family. Franny’s jaw fell right between her feet on the ground at how suspiciously well it went.

Hours later, she was positively mortified when, instead of telling Cornelius he could sleep in one of her brothers’ rooms, her mother followed up ‘just follow Darareaksmey to her room’ with ‘and keep it down if you get naked.’ Franny covered her face with her pillow, muttering, ‘Neil, just press down. Smother me now.’

“Do you like him?” Franny asked her mother while they folded the laundry one afternoon.

“Your boyfriend?”

“No, Mak. Daddy. Of course I mean my boyfriend. So, do you like Cornelius or n-- ow!”

Sophie withdrew the dish towel she’d just whipped Franny’s arm with and her warm laugh filled the room. “Don’t sass me, girl. I do. He’s a very rich man you’ve got wrapped around your finger, and he isn’t even old enough to be your father.”

“Mak!” Franny’s turn to wack an arm with a dish towel. “I’m not with him for his money...okay, it’s nice that he takes me grocery shopping sometimes so I can eat decent food. But other than that I don’t care about his money.”

Well...maybe she did a little. It wasn’t the or even a reason she began seeing him, but it was a perk she was now enjoying just like her cooking was a perk he got to enjoy. But money could only entertain her for so long. If Cornelius didn’t make her soul feel at home the way he did not even his bank account could have kept her.

“Cornelius makes me very happy. I actually - I actually miss him when I don’t get to see him for more than like a day. I never thought I was clingy with guys or girls I dated. Guess I am.’

“Oh, Dara. You’re just in love.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Are you angry?”

Sophie stopped folding the pair of jeans in her hands and let them crumple into her lap. “Why would I be angry?”

“He’s not Cambodian? I don’t know. You wanted me to date the Cambodian boys in the Southeast Asian Student Association.”

“Honey,” Sophie cooed, reaching for Franny’s hand. “Only if you wanted to. I’ll admit a part of me hoped you would find a nice proud Cambodian boy. It would be wonderful if you had a husband who would help teach your children Khmer-”

Franny bit her tongue, holding back a reminder that they’d hadn’t been dating long enough to consider marriage and kids, and that she was only twenty. Nevermind that Franny had been thinking about those things privately. Oh, not in detail. She didn’t have their future children named or anything, though, she had come to the realization that if she tried to picture herself married one day then it was to Cornelius Robinson. The idea of being a mother kind of freaked her out...but if she added ‘mother to Cornelius Robinson’s children someday’ to it, she got all giggly thinking about it.

It was still a little early to say the M-word or the K-word to Cornelius but it wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed her mind. Franny was in love, after all.

“- because a part of me does worry about our culture going away with your childrens’ generation if you don’t. But this is America, where there’s all types of people, not just Khmer, Chinese, Cham, or Vietnamese people. You can marry anybody you want. I speak English now anyway.”

“Mak, I’d teach my kids Khmer.” Franny said.

“You will?”

“How else will we gossip about all the snobby rich families at the country club right in front of them?”

Sophie bursted into laughter, shoving Franny over onto her side on the floor. “Oh, don’t be a gossip! Now sit up, we'll finish the laundry later. Let me do your hair so I can tell you all about the Inthavongs’ divorce.”

Twenty-three years old…

Her mother’s life even after coming to America had been harder than Franny fully understood for most of her life up until around the time she was married. She thought she knew all about her mother’s struggle because it happened right in front of her, but there were so many parts Franny was missing.

“Look at my handsome son-in-law! Oh, come, come, let me take some pictures to email to my brothers and sisters.”

“Mak, they were at the wedding, they know what Cornelius looks like,” Franny whined, clinging onto his arm. “He flew them in, remember?”

“You’re supposed to be wiping down the tables, Darareaksmey.” Sophie reminded her, gesturing around the restaurant. “Here, I’ll get that server apron off you. Thank you for helping out with dinner Cornelius. So generous with your time when you’re visiting, such a good man.”

“He’s married, Mak.” Franny deadpanned. Sophie grabbed a mint from the bowl by the door and before she even threw it at Franny her daughter ducked for cover. “You’re getting her in the divorce!”

It might have been the couple’s first visit to Georgia since they married a few months ago, but Cornelius knew this routine by now. In about four minutes the play-fighting would be long since over and his wife would be hanging onto her mother telling her how much she loooooved her, or how much she wanted them to treat her to a nice meal out tomorrow, or mention how priceless the look on the blonde sales lady’s face would be if two women who looked like them bought a much too expensive dress with her husband’s black card.

After knowing Sophie, it was clear where Franny got her...well, a lot of things from. Of course a woman like that raised Franny. Of course.

The jangling of the bell attached to the front door interrupted Cornelius’ admiration of his wife and mother-in-law.

Franny lifted her head up from cleaning a table. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the nigh--”

“YOU WHORE!” Screeched the woman who had walked in the door.

“Hey!” Cornelius exclaimed, the scary, unfamiliar feeling of anger bubbling in his chest. “That is my w-”

When Sophie was the one struck by the woman’s backhand, it was clear it was not Franny who was the target of that slur.

“Did you expect me to be in the dark forever? How dare you hang around this town! How dare you show your face here!” The woman, blonde hair greying and pale skin beginning to show age, berated Sophie as she continued her assault. “You and my husband’s bastard child, right under my nose!”

Cornelius blinked in surprise; he would have thought that his wife’s sperm donor of a biological father would have confessed to his wife about his infidelity much sooner than now, almost twenty-four years later. She must have just found out. Why else would she come to the restaurant that late at night breathing fire out her nose -- good god, he was starting to think in Franny’s folksy sayings.

He was frozen in shock and a tinge of fear (he never was one for physical fights, see) just long enough for Franny to be the first to act. Sophie seemed fully aware of what was happening and also fully able to defend herself, yet for some reason unwilling to.

Franny lunged forward and grabbed the oldest of the three women by the hair and tugged her away from Sophie. “Paws off my mother! She did nothing wrong!”

The woman (if Cornelius remembered correctly, Franny’s biological father was named Peter Boyd), Mrs. Boyd, shrieked and flailed her arms until one connected with Franny hard enough to stun her into losing her grip. Mrs. Boyd turned on Franny immediately.

“Ha! Nothing wrong? Nothing wrong? Your mother opened her legs to a married man, that’s why you’re even here! Lying like a Persian rug. I should lay you out like one.”

“Fucking try! I’ll lay your ass out and step all over it, you wanna talk about Persian rugs.” Franny challenged, stepping around Mrs. Boyd to block her from her mother.

Mrs. Boyd lunged at Franny, but Franny had been in more fights that the genteel politician’s wife could have ever been in. It took her an embarrassing number of tries to land a punch on Franny and when she did, she didn’t miss her shot. While Franny was stunned, Mrs. Boyd grabbed Franny by her hair and threw her against the wall.

It felt like hours to him that he was frozen in place, but it couldn’t have actually been more than a full minute between Sophie first being slapped and when Mrs. Boyd landed her punch on Franny. That one action finally connected Cornelius’ eyes to the rest of his body. Mrs. Boyd drew back her fist and in a display of speed and athleticism that he could never repeat again, Cornelius crossed the room and wedged himself between Mrs. Boyd and his wife.

Lucky for him, she wasn’t a very strong puncher.

Unlucky for him, she was wearing her ring and his cheek sliced right open.

“You just punched my husband.” Franny snarled, reaching for a chair. “You. Just punched. My husband.”

If Cornelius thought Franny looked scarily pissed off when a man put his hands on her at a bar, he ain’t seen nothin’ back then. If they were in a cartoon, smoke would have billowed from her nose and ears as she shoved him behind her.

“He got in the way, that’s his fault!”

“He has nothing to do with your cheating husband preying on and manipulating a refugee who barely spoke English into thinking he cared about her and would take care of her. Your shitty husband is the one you should be beating up right now!” Franny hissed, her grip on the chair tightening.

“Shut up, [slur I won’t type]!”

It was dead silent. Not one of the four of them moved. Cornelius could have sworn he heard a heartbeat that’s how quiet it was.

Franny was the first to break the silence.

“I’ll count to three. If you aren’t out of my mother’s restaurant when I get to three, what happens next is your fault.”

Mrs. Boyd scoffed. “Like I’m afraid of some gold-digging musical theatre major.”

“One.”

“You aren’t really going to hit me with a chair, are--”

“Two.”

“I’ll have you arrest--”

“Three. GAH!” Franny only had to fake her out for her to run out the door shrieking. The chair was already back on the ground before the door had even shut. “I’ll lock the door. Mak, can we put a dish towel on his face?”

---

“Franny ow,” Cornelius protested as, back at her parents’ house, Franny landed a light-but-strategically-painful punch on Cornelius' arm. “Why are you mad?”

“Because you got hurt!” She snapped, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes watering. “Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want her to hurt you or Sophie…”

Franny whined. “Baby, you name your robots. You can’t take or throw punches. I’m the badass in this marriage, you’re the sweet, gentle one. I hate that you got hurt because my sperm donor’s wife would rather blame a poor lady and her daughter instead of her shitty husband.” “Honey, she slammed your head into the wall.”

“And?” Franny knocked on her skull. “Sounds hollow to me. I don’t think there’s any brain cells left there to kill.”

Cornelius gave a huff of a laugh through his nose, reaching for Franny’s hand to play with her fingers. He didn’t say anything, just held her hand and waited for her.

“I’m sorry you had to see my family’s dirty laundry. Not like you didn’t already know, but.” Franny said, staring down at their hands. “I thought his wife knew. The worst part is, I can understand her. I’d hate my mom and I too if you-- not that you would -- I don’t think you’d-- I just mean--”

“I know.” Cornelius said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

Sophie glided into the living room, her hair kit in hand, and gestured for Franny to sit up straight. Franny opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t feel like getting her hair messed with right now, but snapped her jaw shut as quick as she’d opened it. Just let Mak do her little ritual, it wouldn’t hurt no one.

“I’m sorry this happened, Mak. I should’ve been quicker to fight for you.” Franny said, looking down at her hand in Cornelius’.

Sophie tsk tsked and tugged the hairbrush a little hard, Franny swore it was on purpose. “It was overdue karma, my love. I slept with a married man whether I knew it or not at the time. Not knowing doesn’t make it any less wrong.”

“It does too! He was the one married and lying to you! And the one tried to force you into an abortion when that wasn’t the right choice for you. How are you near as responsible as him?” Franny argued.

“Humans see grey areas. Not everything in the universe does, dear. Besides, I won anyway. Even after today.”

“How? All three of us look like the school bully took our lunch money. I mean, look at him! He and Lucille have a press thing after we get back to New York, he’s gonna look like I shanked him during a domestic!” Franny looked over at Cornelius and pouted at his bandage.

“I’ll tell the press I fought valiantly, honey. You were a worthy opponent.” Cornelius teased. Franny hissed, exactly like her cat, then immediately kissed his temple.

“I win in the end because I get to have you as my daughter.” Sophie explained, starting on the actual braid. “I don’t regret any part about my path crossing with Peter Boyd’s because I had to go through it to get you.”

Franny was silent a long moment, her eyes watered in lieu of her finding her words. She only squeezed Cornelius’ hand tighter, and when she had words again only managed so squeak out, “Maaaaaak, you can’t say things that nice while you’re doing my hair. It’ll be all lopsided if I move to hug you.”

“That’s why I said it when I did.”

Thirty-five years old…

Franny was coming to understand that she would never truly be able to understand everything about her mother’s life in Cambodia. The more she knew, the more she didn’t know.

Franny sat behind her mother, brushing out her hair, as the recording device captured their conversation. At the moment, all it was capturing was Franny’s stunned silence as she sat there, mouth agape, hairbrush frozen mid-brush in her mother��s salt and pepper hair.

What do you say to your mother recounting in gruesome detail her father’s death?

She spoke like all she was recalling was the serial killer’s M.O. in the last Criminal Minds, her tone calm, detached, there was even a nervous laugh in there.

“Mak…” Franny whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“The book was my idea, Darareaksmey. I want you to help me talk about what happened to my country and our family before I’m an old woman and can’t remember things. The world deserves to know what it let happen.”

“It can’t be easy for you. How do you just...live after that?”

“It isn’t easy. Keep brushing.” Sophie waited until Franny’s hands were once again busy with her hair to continue. “A lot of people don’t, I imagine. Surviving must eat some people alive. It got to me, at first.”

Franny set the brush down and started on the braiding. “Did it?”

“Why was my escape successful but the woman who suggested the method I used get caught when she tried it, why was I able to survive the student purge but my friends weren’t, why did the cut on my foot eventually heal but my sister’s infection kill her, and do I even deserve to be alive...things like that, I thought about those things every day in the refugee camp. Once I was able to actually think about anything but being hungry, anyway.” Sophie explained.

While Franny braided her mother’s hair it occurred to her that this was the most honest that her mother had been with her about her feelings (re: living through the Khmer Rouge) in all of her thirty-five years on the planet. Regarding the straight facts, Sophea Sor Framagucci was a straightforward woman. She would tell you in detail how any and every traumatic event went down but never once had she talked about how she felt or what it all did to her.

Though, she couldn’t imagine detailing every single trauma in her life and how it affected her for Wilbur either.

Perhaps it felt strange to Franny because her mother’s trauma was a major historical event that numerous books, movies, documentaries, and articles talked about. She knew so much about the event itself but the raw, human, emotional aspect of it was all new.

“It’s funny because deciding not to live was never an option for me. Even before I had you. I just kept thinking about how I didn’t want to let the people who did this to me win, and I can only do that by living. So I existed. For a long time, it was just existing. I learned to be alive again. Especially once you started talking and having a personality that wasn’t just ‘Being A Baby. That’s when being a mother goes from being just a responsibility to a responsibility that makes you smile and laugh.”

“Mm, it’s a good thing you told me that part at thirty-five and not fourteen. As a mother, I understand what you mean. As a teenager that would have killed my self-esteem.”

“Impossible, your ego was much too big at that age. It almost could’ve used a beating.”

“Don’t you know that was the classic pretend you’re better than God because you actually feel like trash act?” Franny said, tying the hair tie around the braid.

“Can’t say I’m familiar. It’s never been an act for me.”

“Mak!” Franny laughed, playfully nudging her mother. “No wonder I have a god complex on Tuesdays.” A beat. “We can stop. If you need to.”

“I’ll tell you when I need a break, my love. I’m okay.”

#bdrptask #&&...hc #600 words they said how about a 17 page google doc i said

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virtual-toast · 3 years

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Scream Queens VH1 recap - Season 1 Episode 2

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Michelle, Sarah, Kylah, and Jessica come back from the grand ballroom and the rest of the girls are shocked and/or pissed that Jo-Anne went home instead of Kylah. Lindsay says “This house will mourn the loss of Jo-Anne” and Sarah, in tears, calls her “such a sensational actress”, which are both super melodramatic reactions, you knew Jo-Anne for three days, but okay. Meanwhile Kylah has no idea why everyone is upset that she’s still there haha.

The following day sees Kylah declaring the house has been divided into the “queen bitches” (herself, Michelle, Lina, and Angela) and the “more homely girls” (Marissa, Lindsay, and Sarah). I’m assuming she’s put Tanedra and Jessica in the latter category too but she doesn’t mention them specifically. The bitchy girls talk shit about the other girls behind their backs, specifically about how they think Sarah didn’t deserve to win the previous episode, that she’s ugly and annoying, etc.

The girls meet up with Shawnee who tells them they have 15 minutes to dress themselves up and impress a casting director (Kelly Wagner, who seems pretty cool tbh) with the winner getting a guaranteed callback. While getting ready, Michelle and Angela mention that if the winner is not one of the bitchy girls, the competition must be rigged. An awful lot of confidence for week 2, lol.

The girls go back into the room with Shawnee and meet Kelly. They take turns doing a sort of one on one interview / audition, which I’m gonna summarise in dot points because they each get a small amount of screen time:

Lindsay talks about being a child actor and Kelly says that means she probably actually has a harder job than someone just starting out. Lindsay is wearing a weird sort of frilly top and skirt with polka dots but it somehow doesn’t really work for her shape, and Kelly mentions it as well as Shawnee straight up calling her frumpy. True, but also, rude.

Lina goes up and immediately shakes Kelly’s hand. She doesn’t even get a word out before Kelly is like “yeah no, don’t shake casting directors’ hands, personal space / germs” etc.

Kylah talks about playing Price is Right with her brother which Kelly says is a bad choice because she’s automatically associating herself with being a model rather than an actress. Kylah proceeds to mention that she wants to “get ugly, get dirty, like Halle Berry did in Monster.” cringe

Marissa gets up and starts off on this huge spiel about how horror films are like modern Greek tragedies and everyone is just staring at her like GIRL WHAT.

Michelle introduces herself and Kelly asks if she primarily does theatre because of her big personality. Michelle proceeds to brag about being Miss Teen Texas.

Jessica is wearing a smart-casual outfit of jeans and a simple white top with her trademark giant hoop earrings. Kelly comments on her look being unique. Jessica is kinda speaking like a cute little girl who doesn’t want to let the evil out??

Angela mentions how she thinks she has the stereotypical horror “look”. Her outfit isn’t relevant but I have to mention it anyway - it honestly looks like she cut the top off a blue evening gown to wear as a shirt?? and then just jeans. Like idk.

Sarah introduces herself and Kelly immediately comments on her unique nasally voice.

Tanedra tells Kelly that she has no formal training. Kelly says “And you think you can beat out all these girls?” and Tanedra’s like YES. Fuck yeah get it girl.

So Kelly goes ahead and gives her overall impressions - Kylah has no personality, Angela has the best horror look, Lindsay looks like the best friend rather than the leading lady, Marissa is the one she didn’t remember, and she liked Jessica’s personal style. Ultimately she gives Jessica the guaranteed callback, and also sends Lindsay and Marissa for makeovers which Michelle finds hilarious.

The girls go back into the house and Kylah proceeds to have a tantrum about not winning, stating that if the casting director was a man the results would have been different. But get this, she DOES NOT CHANGE EXPRESSION THE ENTIRE TIME. Even when she’s yelling “I’M ABOUT TO CRY” she literally just has this blank look on her face like is she actually made of wax?? Meanwhile Lindsay and Marissa have their makeovers, Lindsay gets a cool short reverse A-line bob cut and looks really badass, while Marissa gets her hair dyed jet black and cut in choppy layers. It looks fine but you can tell by her face Marissa is not happy.

The girls go to Homa’s class and since the week is all about first impressions, they have to do freeze frame shots of particular expressions, I guess so they can see what they actually look like vs. what they think they look like or something. Most of the girls do pretty well, Tanedra kills it again, Marissa bombs, and Kylah once again LITERALLY DOES NOT CHANGE EXPRESSION. What the fuck.

Back at the house the girls are all gushing over Lindsay and Marissa’s makeovers, Michelle voices her jealousy despite earlier thinking it was hilarious, and Angela is mad that she’s no longer the only one with her “look”, even though she and Marissa don’t look the same at all, the only similarity is the colour of their hair?? Marissa goes and has a cry about her hair because she’s now lost all her confidence and honestly it’s actually kinda sad / hard to watch.

The next day they find one of the rooms in the house has been filled with creepy dolls and of course one of them is actually a person that jumps out and scares them because omg what a funny prank haha. The “doll” tells them their director’s challenge is a photoshoot which many of the girls are stoked about. They’re basically given generic horror themes and have to shoot the poster. Dot points again!

Lina gets “Tie Die” and her costume is literally a length of rope that’s wrapped around her. She immediately cracks the shits and goes into full blown diva mode, complaining about her costume, how apparently difficult her theme is compared to other girls, telling the makeup and hair people how to do their jobs, etc. Whaaaaat, Lina is a bitch?? This is brand new information!! Unfortunately she still does a really good job with the photoshoot.

Lindsay gets “Blinded By the Fright” and her costume is a hospital gown and white contact lenses, which she has difficulty putting in but is EXTREMELY polite about it with the makeup lady (a nice juxtaposition to Lina’s bitch fest). Lindsay also does really well in the photoshoot.

Kylah gets “Thin Skin” which she comments sounds like a porno, lmao. Her costume is literally just black liquid latex painted all over her body and the other girls are fucking FROTHING with jealously. Kylah proceeds to completely bomb the challenge, giving absolutely no emotion and James literally has no idea how to direct her.

Michelle gets “Don’t Go in the Water” and is basically just wearing a bikini, but then James dumps a bottle of cold water all over her. She does really well in the photoshoot.

Sarah gets “Blood Skate”, her costume is just a bloody ice skating outfit, and she does okay.

Tanedra gets “Prom Scream”, she is wearing a bloody prom dress, and she does really well.

Jessica gets “The Butcher’s Girl” and she’s literally wearing a hat, gloves, no shirt, just an apron and shorts? And there’s blood? This one confuses me. She does okay.

Angela gets “Monster’s Wedding” which some of the other girls (correctly) complain is SUPER easy - she’s literally in a wedding dress posing with a bloody hand prop. She does fine but I mean all she has to do is stand there and smile??

Marissa gets “Mummy Maker” and she’s wrapped in what I assume are bandages but it looks like toilet paper? She’s pretty covered, including the bottom half of her face, and she’s supposed to be seductive but honestly it kinda just feels like an awkward interpretive dance??

The next day back at the house, Marissa vents to the other girls about her insecurity with her new hair. Like I know it’s just hair but it’s kinda sad, they completely changed her look which obviously fucks with her confidence. The girls get their photoshoot posters and everyone is stoked except Marissa (rightfully) and Lindsay, who basically has an anxiety attack and hates hers even though everyone is telling her how great it is. Whoo boy I relate to Lindsay so hard. Jessica reads the list which summons Marissa, Kylah, Lindsay, and Lina to the grand ballroom. They all think they’re at the bottom except Lina, who of course thinks she’s top shit.

In the grand ballroom, Lina gets pulled forward and despite doing well in the challenge, the judges straight up read her for being a bitch, which is hella satisfying let me tell you. Lindsay gets pulled forward and the judges tell her that she did an awesome job and that she needs to go easier on herself, before awarding her the week’s leading lady. Marissa and Kylah are predictably the bottom two, Marissa gets told she’s overthinking everything and Kylah just that she’s completely emotionless. Kylah gets the axe and Marissa lives another week.

Stay tuned for Season 1 Episode 3!

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oddeyevibes · 3 years

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TLND Ch1: The Theatrics of it All

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Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Vice City or any of it’s characters, I only own my OCs. Also, many of the images and gifs used are not 100% representative of the story, there are chosen to help create ✨~ambiance~✨.

Summary: Tommy has come to Vice City to kill people for money. For him, it’s business and a duty as a member of the Forelli crime family. Dallas has come to Vice City to kill people for money. For her, it’s business and an art form and a lifestyle that has been apart of her family for a long time. A lot might not see it, but they were made for each other.

Trigger Warning: Blood, graphic depictions of violence

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Prickle Pine, Las Venturas

1986

Most people in Prickle Pine always associated with people their neighbors have never seen. This is usually where the rich elites always found hanging out in the Strip lived anyway. So some old couple with nothing better to do but to people-watch probably wouldn’t be calling the authorities any time soon on seeing strange people come out of different houses every day of the week because it was too natural at this point.

So when a midnight blue Sentinel XS pulled up to the Michaels house. No people-watchers thought it was too suspect to see them get a wealthy-looking visitor. The front door opened revealing a man in a faded red and white striped bathrobe known as Bane Michaels. A middle-aged white man who made an infamous name for himself by helping produce some of those pornographic, action-oriented movies the porn industry has ever seen.

He was regular on The Strip and many of his more prudish neighbors came to know him for always having younger women visit while his much more older wife, went off to the hospital for treatment. People watchers merely thought it was another one of those visits.

Bane stood in the doorway a jittery mess as the driver of the Sentinel stepped out of the vehicle. By the look of her outfit, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a woman whose husband died in “mysterious” circumstances. She was wearing a black pencil dress with a pair of black peep-toe wedges along with some thick-rimmed black sunglasses and a black shoulder purse to make the outfit look a little more perfect. For Bane, she was like an angel of death walking towards his door. This was the woman that would help solve his problems.

“Well...don’t you look excited to see me.” She commented.

Bane moved aside and let her into the house, immediately locking the door and showing her to the spacious living room which looked like it never left the 60s. It didn’t help that there was a TV playing an old sitcom of that era.

The woman sat down on one of the single-seated couches across from Bane who relaxed as he sat down, waiting for the good news. “Well?”

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you are now a widow, Mr. Michaels.”

Bane’s smile grew wide. “Hahaha! Thank you! Thank you SO much!” The man quickly stood up, grabbing the woman’s hand and shaking it frantically, much to the woman’s clear disdain. She yanked her hand out of his grasp. The man took the hint and sat back down. “Y’know, I heard about you from Carlos. I was so sure he was going to do the job until he recommended you.”

The woman shrugged. “Carlos got wrapped up in a more steady gig.”

Bane took the hint and nodded. “Once the life insurance comes through, I promise you, you’ll get your money. Never done something like this before so I’m not quite sure how long it’ll take.”

“Well, I have. Just make sure you don’t say or do anything stupid and suspicious. Remember, when the hospital calls, you don’t know she’s dead.” The way the woman spoke held an air of both sultriness and coldness. Bane was definitely talking to someone who has experience. “Unless they called already and you messed it up.”

Bane shook his head. “Nope, no call yet. Why don’t we…” Bane scooted forward a bit and flashed the woman a smirk. “Maybe we can wait together?” He asked.

The woman tilted her head to the side. “Are you trying to flirt with me?” She asked with a blunt tone of voice. There was no hint of reciprocation in her words.

Bane shrugged. “Well,” He casually leaned back against the seat. “I am a single man after all.”

“You’re wife’s body not even if a coffin yet.”

“That old broad’s been dead for years. Shame though...she was a real cougar, that one. It was fun running around with an older woman. Especially, when they’re loaded. The probably is, what we men want from an older woman gets lost REAL fast when age starts catching up with them.” He continued going on. “Tits start sagging, they need every pill in the fucking book to keep functioning, hair starts going gray, y’know?” He asked with a chuckle, but the woman didn’t respond. Once he realized she wasn’t going to laugh, he sighed and kept going. “Only reason I stayed with her was because of the money. Porn is nice and all but I wanted to do more. I wanna be big but in this city, you gotta pay big to win big, y’know? Edie, love her to death, but she wasn’t going to understand what I needed. I couldn’t let her divorce me either, she’d take her money and run, leaving me with nothing.”

“So you plan to find some young girl?”

He nodded. “Unless you’re willing to fill the position?”

“No.”

Bane chuckled. “Worth a shot.” The brown-haired man stood up and went over to a brown foyer table holding a variety of liquor bottles as well as a couple of whiskey glasses. He proceeded to pour himself a glass as the nearby landline phone began ringing. A smirk on his face, Bane waltz over to answer, prepared to pretend to be heartbroken.

“Michaels Residence, Bane speaking.”

“.....Michaels Residence?” The evil smirk on Bane’s face slowly disappeared. The man glanced back to the woman sitting on his couch. She was currently paying him no mind as she watched the silent erratic movements of the sitcom still playing. He turned his back towards her and continued the conversation. “Edie?” He asked in a terrified whisper.

“I’m not even in the dirt yet and you’ve already claimed my house?” The older woman said and the smile could be heard in her voice. Bane didn’t say anything in response. “What? No funny remark? You used to be made of them, Baney.”

“You’re alive?” He whispered, not wanting to alert the woman behind him since he planned on giving her a piece of his mind.

“Of course I am. You tried to pay for the Montoya’s to kill me using life insurance? I got something more reliable...an owed favor.” There was so much vile as she said the last part of her sentence.

PHT!

If the walls had eyes, they would be covered in the blood that quickly shot out of Bane’s forehead. With the little thinking energy he had left, the man’s eyes had shot up to try and catch a glimpse of the hole in his head. In a second, his body fell forward, colliding with the wall and crashing down on the table, knocking over the different bottles and sending them to the floor with a series of loud crashes as the phone in his hand was let go and fell in one of the puddles that began soaking the ugly colored carpet.

Turning his back to the woman proved to be a fatal mistake. His last mistake. Once he did, she had quietly made her way over to him, calmly pulling out a suppressed .22 pistol and waited for her moment to pull the trigger.

The woman flashed a satisfied smirk as she put away her gun before bending down to pick up the phone. “Ms. Rubio?”

“I wish I could’ve been there to see the look on his face.” The older woman sounded more than happy with the outcome.

“Well, he was very scared if that makes you feel better.”

“I suppose that’ll do.”

“You never told my cousin what you wanted in terms of body disposal.”

“I have some guys of my own. I want to see what’s left of the fucker. If it wasn’t for MY money, that ingrate wouldn’t have what we had now. To think that son of a bitch was plotting to kill me.”

“Small world though.”

“Indeed. When are you and your cousin leaving Las Venturas?”

“Should be by the end of this week.”

“Should have your money by then.”

“No need. This is a favor, remember?”

“I always tip.” The line went dead.

The woman shrugged and hung up the phone. She took a long look at the corpse before letting out a single chuckle and leaving the residence, locking the bottom lock behind her. As far as the neighbors knew, the woman in black that left Eden Rubio’s house was another young fling of Bane’s.

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Several days later

Portland, Liberty City

Marco’s Bistro

“Tommy Vercetti? Shit...didn’t think they ever let him out.”

Sonny Forelli had a loud voice. Everyone in the Forelli family knew that. Hell, everyone in the families knew that. It wasn’t a voice that commanded respect but one that wanted fear. The Don of the Forelli family reveled in the fact that others feared him and if he felt someone didn’t fear him, he would take care of them. The idea of catching more bees with honey was a concept lost this Forelli man. He was a man-sized brat but no one in the Forelli Family would call him out on it.

The Don was currently sitting in his brother’s bistro alongside two associates, Casio Graci and Vincent Moreno, who had informed the man that Tommy Vercetti was officially let out of prison. The man that was now known as the ‘Harwood Butcher’ was sentenced away fifteen years ago on 11 counts of manslaughter. The thing is: he was only supposed to kill one guy.

No one besides Sonny knows the specifics of what happened and how a simple hit by a Forelli mobster turned into a bloodbath. It worked out though for the Forelli family’s reputation among the families. If someone like Tommy Vercetti was working for the Forellis, the other families kept their ears perked for any more Forelli men. Sonny didn’t like to admit it, but Tommy helped him...again.

Only a few men in the family knew this, but Sonny despised Tommy’s very existence. No one was dumb enough to comment on it though, out of fear of Sonny’s wrath. No one knew the specifics of it but it was clearly some sort of paranoia. The thought that everyone would look at Tommy the way they SHOULD’VE been looking at Sonny. There were some outside of Sonny’s close circle that had ideas but they were thrown out of the window upon hearing Sonny and the Forellis kept Vercetti from getting the death penalty.

“He kept his head down,” Casio explained. “It helps people forget.”

Sonny chuckled. “People will remember soon enough. When they see him walking down the streets of their neighborhood, it’ll be bad for business.”

The two associates glanced between each other with worried expressions. Cutting Tommy loose was probably not the best idea cause then one of the other families might take him in. Can’t have a hitman like Tommy working the Sindacos, the Sicilians, or the Leones. Definitely not the Leones.

Casio looked at Sonny. “Well, what are we gonna do Sonny?”

The Don sat back in chair thinking for a moment. Truth be told, Sonny didn’t want Tommy anywhere near him. He didn’t want him asking too many questions upon returning. Fifteen years? Vercetti was definitely simmering with curiosity. “Alright,” He leaned in towards the table, his face illuminating a bit more under the green light. His gesture causing the others to do the same. “We treat’em like an old friend and keep him busy out of town, ok?”

The two looked confused.

Sonny leaned back in his seat once more. “We been talking about expanding down south, right? Vice City is 24-Carat gold these days. The Columbians, the Mexicans, hell, even those Cuban refugees are cutting themselves a piece of some nice action.”

Vincent shook his head. “But it’s all drugs, Sonny. None of the families will touch that shit.”

The only reason Vice City had become a gold mind was because of drugs. Not just any drugs but the classic white girl, Cocaine. Most of the Italian mob stationed in Liberty City didn’t go anywhere near drugs. The most they dealt with being weed. Florida, Vice City, in particular, was a place where cocaine was becoming the wave. As of now, it was unknown territory to the families.

“Times are changing. The families can’t keep their backs turned while our enemies reap the rewards. So, we send someone down to do the dirty work for us and cut ourselves a nice quiet slice, ok?” He explained. Sonny looked over to Casio, “who’s our contact down there?”

“Ken Rosenberg,” Casio replied with an eye roll. “Schmuck of a lawyer. How’s he gonna hold Vercetti’s leash?”

“We don’t need him to. We just set him loose in Vice City, we give him a little cash to get started. Ok? Give it a few months,” Sonny relaxed in his chair. “Then we go down, pay him a little visit, okay? See how he's doing.”

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Escobar International

Vice City

Tommy’s been down south maybe like...once. It was only a business trip and he’d stood in as one of Sonny’s bodyguards. The was fifteen years ago back in 1970 and he knew the city had probably changed a lot since then. The man wasn’t someone into the latest trends but still, the thought of missing out on a whole decade did something to him mentally. After all, he was barely an adult when he got locked up but hand the bodies of professionals that’s been in the game long before his birth.

Tommy thought about a lot while on the inside. He was grateful for the Forellis for keeping him off death row, he really was, but he was also suspicious of the events in Harwood. Unfortunately, Tommy would have to keep his questions to himself since the first thing that happened upon being released from prison was him being sent to Vice City.

Now instead of killing men left and right which, granted, he may have to do anyway, Tommy was meant to simply help the Forellis make some deals down south. Setting themselves up amidst all the other gangs that have claimed territory in the city.

He didn’t really know what his face looked like but it apparently caught Lee’s attention. “Don’t be so nervous Vercetti,” Lee advised, catching the man’s attention from watching the plane land through its window. “Harry and I have done deals like this before. Simple procedure, go in and out, hasn’t changed since you’ve been locked up.”

Tommy felt annoyed. “I know how these things work.” He shot back with a mild attitude.

Lee didn’t say anything or indicated that he was offended at the response, merely shrugged and went back to reading the magazine. “ Big Shot Porn Producer Reported Dead...robbery gone wrong? ” The man muttered.

Tommy turned his attention back to the window, trying to get back on his previous train of thought.

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The air in Vice City was most certainly dry. Tommy almost felt sorry for anyone who didn’t dress down enough. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the bugs here were plenty and HUGE. The worst he dealt with in Liberty City were big ass rats and roaches and flies if a place was filthy enough. Here, the bugs have 34 wings and are always out to cross boundaries. Tommy wished he could’ve stayed inside the airport where the air was cool and the bugs were kept at bay.

But the sight of a white Admiral pulling up provided some quick relief. Though, the appearance of a frantic, curly-haired man in a white suit sort of dimmed in down. He never met Rosenberg but from what Casio and some of the others told him, Rosenberg was easily startled, like a lamb.

The car stopped before the three men and Ken got out, leaning on top of the car’s roof to greet the men. “Hey, hey, guys! It’s, uh, Ken Rosenberg here!” The man shouted. “Hey! Heh, heh, hey, great, hey!”

‘I hate this guy already.’ Tommy thought to himself.

He and the others not replying sent a chill down Ken’s spine, making the neurotic man even more nervous. The Forelli lawyer let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, uh, I’m gonna drive you guys to the meet, ok?” The three nodded and began entering the car, Tommy found himself situated in the back sitting next to Lee once again. Meanwhile, Rosenberg kept explaining the whole deal. “Now, I’ve talked to the suppliers and they’re very keen to start a business relationship, so, uh, if all goes well, we should, uh, be doing very nicely for ourselves, which is, y’know, good.”

With everyone situated in the vehicle, Ken began driving and explained the whole all the way to the docks about the sellers they’ll be purchasing from. Tommy wasn’t too bothered to make any type of comment or even inquire more about, a tiny part hoping Lee or Harry would do that for him, especially Harry, considering that he was the one sitting next to Ken and getting the most of the yammering. To no avail though.

The now 35-year-old let out a silent, annoyed breath as he looked out the window watching his new residence for the new months pass by him in a blur. This would all look nice to gander at if he wasn’t on business. ‘Maybe some other time…’ he thought. For now...just get the deal done was all that was on his mind.

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Vice City Docks

Upon the vehicle pulling up to the docks, Tommy was a little on edge. Maybe it was because, in Liberty City, every hour was working hours, he assumed that the docks would be filled with workers paid to mind their own business with maybe one or two ‘ upstanding citizens ’ trying to play the hero.

However, the Vice City docks were damn near-deserted. No sign of anyone clocking in. Maybe the people they were selling to had those types of connections. To make a bunch of construction workers disappear with a snap of their fingers. But, since they weren’t already here, Tommy kind of tossed out that line of thinking.

The sound of a helicopter getting louder caught the attention of the four men in the car. Shaking off the jetlag and gaining their full attention.

“Ok, that’s them in the chopper,” Ken stated. “Ok, here’s the deal,” Harry and Lee began exiting the car while Tommy stayed to hear the rest of the stipulations. “They want a straight exchange on open ground. Alright?”

Tommy nodded, “Right.”, before exiting the car and walking with the other two Forelli men. Meanwhile, one of the dealers, a slightly overweight dark-skinned man wearing a red shirt holding two briefcases, no doubt the product, exited the chopper while his pilot waited and made his way over to meet Tommy and the others.

Once all four had come face to face the deal started. Tommy’s done these before. It was nothing new and nothing had changed. In and out. Get this over with and once all is said and done, focus on finding out what happened back in Hardwood. This is was the only reason Tommy didn’t make a fuss about immediately being put back to work upon being released. He wanted to ease everyone else who worked with him in order to get them talking. A good 20 minutes and he can get to work.

“You got it?” He asked the man in the red shirt.

The man smirked. From the demeanor, Tommy could tell that this man was someone who didn’t take nonsense much like him. “One hundred percent pure grade-A Columbian.” The man replied, placing the two silver cases before the trio.

Tommy gestured his head towards the cases. “Let me see’em.”

The man stopped for a second, looking up at Tommy. “The greens?”

Harry and Lee opened the cases they were holding, showcasing the money. “Tens and twenties,” Tommy replied, “used.”

The man nodded with a smirk, straightening up his posture. “Then I think we got a deal, my friend. Hahaha--”

They only needed a few more minutes to get this deal done but life showed that it had other plans when the sound of multiple gunshots rang out across the docks.

Tommy instinctively ducked as the bodies of both Harry, Lee, and most likely the man in the red shirt. The guy in the copter most likely lifted off and got the hell out of dodge.

That left Tommy to sprint like the wind towards Rosenberg’s car. Taking the phrase ‘leap of faith’ to a literal level when he vaulted through the open window of the backseat. Rosenberg peeled out as Tommy shouted for him to get out there.

Just like fifteen years ago, a ‘simple’ job went terrible in an instant. Between the adrenaline rush of the shootout and the deja vu from back then, the escape from the stocks turned out to be a blurry one for Tommy Vercetti.

The only words that came to his mind were ‘ah shit’ as Rosenberg frantically whimpered in the front seat.

Next Chapter ⏩

#GTA fic #Tommy Vercetti x OC #The Lady Next Door

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