#Something something years passed and I'm still cringe
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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist
Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.
An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.
Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.
The Beginning
At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.
Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:
How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?
Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?
Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?
Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?
Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow
Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.
Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".
The Pearl in The Bottle
So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?
What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence
A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.
What's Wrong With the Guards?
Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?
Paul McCartney
This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.
Salazar
I am confused. Once again, I have questions.
El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?
The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?
Poseidon or Calypso?
What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.
The Compass
This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.
That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.
So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.
That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate
Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.
Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.
Justice for Hector Barbossa
If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".
So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.
Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.
I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.
How does Carina Smyth exist?
Let's do the math. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.
When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;
it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.
The Post-Credit Scene: What?
WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.
My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.
Imago
#potc#pirates of the caribbean#potc analysis#dead men tell no tales#analysis#media analysis#pirates#jack sparrow#hector barbossa#carina smyth#henry turner#elizabeth swann#will turner#calypso#davy jones#salazar
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#I'm using this meme wrong yes i know#no i don't care#Listen all am saying Is that#Charlotte Evans#and#Alan Crawford#Are like the more fluffy anime version of fluttercord if like discord was more chill and met season 1 fluttershy#I will be killing myself now for making that comparison#/jk#Something something years passed and I'm still cringe#Cringe it's a way of life not a phase#And the only thing i succeed at too#Ikenaikyo#fluttercord#i'm giving the disgraced noble lady i rescued a crash course in naughtiness#konyaku haki sareta reijou wo hirotta ore ga ikenai koto wo oshiekomu#Anime#It's the vibes man the vibes#Also that one scene when all the animals just vame to Charolette made me only see fluttershy#Like kill me if you must but i speak the truth#Please#MLP#MLP:FIM#Discoshy#LMAO#Do charolette and alan have a ship name?#Meme#Anime memes#Mlp memes
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Hotter Than Texas | Part II
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
A/N: I'm so excited that y'all loved the first part! Thanks for your enthusiasm, you rock <3
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.
Aka it's a road trip, strap in.
CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)
WC: 2000+
Part I | Masterlist
“I’m getting hungry.”
Bradley glances at the restaurant sign as he passes it on the interstate, suppressing a sigh. He usually skips lunch on long trips so he can arrive at his destination before nightfall. “I’ll get off at the next exit,” he says.
“Will you?” you exclaim excitedly, as though he’s offered to catch and cook your next meal himself.
Bradley chuckles mildly. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve.”
“You’re so sweet,” you reply, and Bradley eyes you with a grin because he’s about eighty percent certain you’re being facetious.
“What’re are you in the mood for?” he asks as he gets on the off-ramp.
“Something greasy and very bad for my heart.”
Bradley lets out a small laugh. What’s bad for his heart is you sitting next to him being all cute for the next twenty hours straight.
He pulls into the lot of a little diner just off the highway and parks his car while you flip down your sun visor to glance at your reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.
Bradley tries not to examine you directly and instead just glances in your vicinity. “Better than the truckers, I bet,” he comments, noticing the row of semis at the back of the lot.
You give him an unimpressed look and then push open your door. “I sure hope they have French toast.”
“I thought you wanted something greasy,” Bradley says, walking around the front of the Bronco to join you.
“I want options,” you state, marching forth toward the front doors.
Bradley strides ahead and pulls the door open for you. He can’t say he isn’t looking forward to having a sit-down meal with you, like it’s a date or something. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s almost thrilled at the prospect of the other patrons assuming the two of you are a couple.
You walk through the open door and Bradley stalls for a moment, trying to clear his head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that sort of nonsense. He and Hangman have enough issues without adding Bradley’s crush on his baby sister to the mix. They’ve just begun to mend their bumpy – to say the least – relationship, and Jake would sure as shit not appreciate his colleague developing feelings for his younger sibling.
“You comin’, sugar?” you call from inside.
Bradley, who’s clearly taken too long of a beat, glances at you in a bit of a daze. He’s sure you just called him ‘sugar’ and that has utterly thrown him. He enters after you and gives the hostess a look that he hopes might resemble a polite smile. But his face feels hot and numb at the same time, so he can’t be sure.
…
“I think I’ll get the pancakes,” you muse, flipping through the menu leisurely.
Bradley smiles at you when you’re not looking. “Want to share some things?”
You glance up at him happily. “Can we?”
Bradley chuckles. “Why not? I could go for a pancake. What else should we get?”
Your eyes light up and you instantly refer back to the menu. “Fried pickles.”
Bradley cringes but he’s still amused. “Those’ll go great with the pancakes.”
“I agree,” you respond without a hint of sarcasm. “Chili?” you continue. “Or tacos?”
“Why not both?” Bradley shrugs.
You give him a serious look. “That’s just crazy talk.”
Bradley laughs. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”
“I sort of want some pie, though.”
Bradley closes his menu and leans forward into the table. “I’ve already thought of that,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s about to divulge a secret. You lean in too, your bright eyes blinking up at him eagerly. “We’ll get one for the road,” he whispers.
You gasp. “You’re a genius!”
Bradley chuckles, leaning back in his seat proudly. “I won’t deny that.”
…
When the server arrives to take your orders, you let Bradley do the talking, but chime in with little requests now and again; onions on the home fries, maple syrup for the bacon, sour cream in the chili. And Bradley can’t help but delight in the fact that, every time you think of something, you tap his hand that's resting on the table, ‘oohing’ with excitement.
Bradley eyes you with a smile once the server departs. “Maple syrup for the bacon?”
You wave a hand at him. “You’ll see.”
Bradley shakes his head with a smirk. “Not on my bacon.”
“Yeah, my brother warned me that you’re a bit of a square.”
Bradley raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Your brother said what?”
You grin at him mischievously. “Don’t worry, I can make up my own mind.”
“Your brother warned me that you’re a bully,” Bradley replies, his smile only getting wider. “And, coming from Hangman, that���s saying something.”
You let out a peal of laughter so exuberant that several faces turn to look in your direction.
“Don’t worry,” he adds when your laughter partially subsides. “I can make up my own mind.”
“And?” you ask with soaring eyebrows. “Have you?”
Bradley hesitates for a moment and then decides to respond in a cheeky manner to avoid any awkwardness. “Not just yet,” he says with a chuckle.
You reach out and lightly smack his forearm. “Stop!”
“I’m joking,” Bradley concedes, grabbing your hand before you can strike him again. “It’s not like you’ve ever hit me to get your way,” he says pointedly.
You shake your head with a smirk and withdraw your hand.
…
“Everything was delicious,” you gush to the waitress as she clears the table. “We had such a wonderful time!”
“Glad to hear that, dear,” the waitress gives you a smile and then winks at Bradley, as though she’s in on some scheme with him.
Bradley furrows his eyebrows in amusement as she walks away and then digs into his pocket for his wallet. “My treat,” he says when you reach for your purse.
“No way!” you exclaim. “You’re already giving me a ride. The least I could do is feed you.”
“You don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to be your ride.”
“I insist,” you declare.
“I insist harder,” Bradley presses, laying down several bills onto the receipt tray.
You gaze at him pensively and finally slide your wallet back into your purse. “So, you’re stubborn,” you note.
“So, you’re observant,” he remarks.
You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for lunch, Rooster.”
…
Back on the road, you offer Bradley a turn with the radio, muttering something about not wanting to be a bully by hogging the music. He can tell you’ve said it in jest, but he still wants to make sure he hasn’t offended you.
“You know I don’t think you’re a bully, right?” he says, glancing between your face and the road several times.
You eye him playfully. “Well, give it a minute.”
Bradley chuckles. “It’s getting dark,” he notes after a little while. He was hoping to get farther on the first day, but the prospect of maybe spending an extra day with you on the road doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it might have in the morning. “Want to stop for the night?”
“I can drive if you want,” you offer.
Naturally, Bradley overthinks your response. He wonders if maybe you’ve had enough of him and would prefer to get to Texas as soon as possible. “No, no,” he responds. “I can drive. I just thought you might be tired.”
“From sitting?” you quip.
Bradley gives you a flat look. “It’s been a long day.”
You shrug. “It flew by.”
That sets his mind at ease somewhat. A day doesn’t fly by unless you’re having a good time. “I think we should stop,” he says.
“Alright,” you respond, “let’s stop.”
…
“You two lovebirds want the mountain or city view?” the hotel’s front desk clerk enquires with a beam.
Bradley is about to explain that the two of you will, in fact, require separate rooms because you are the absolute opposite of lovebirds, when you respond with, “Mountain, please.”
The clerk hands you a key and Bradley follows you down the hall mutely, with both of your suitcases in tow. He’s not about to dispute your decision to share a room, despite knowing that it’s exactly what he swore he’d avoid doing the moment he laid eyes on you.
You open the door and enter, holding it open for Bradley so that he can bring in the luggage. He sets it down gingerly by the door and straightens his back to look around. The are two double beds against the wall and a large window with a spectacular view of the Santa Catalina range.
You flop down on one of the beds with a contented sigh. “You know what, darlin’? I am tired.”
Bradley watches you climb further up the bed and rest your head on one of the pillows. He’s used to you calling him all sorts of terms of endearment at this point, but it still warms his heart each and every time you do. “No dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he responds, adopting your speaking style on a trial basis.
You lift your head from the pillow. “Let’s just order in?”
You seem unfazed by the fact that Bradley just called you sweetheart. Meanwhile, he’s nearly thrown up from the anxiety it’s caused him. He resolves not to call you that – or any other overly-friendly name – ever again. “Yeah, we can do that,” he responds casually. “Pizza?”
You nod. “With barbeque chicken.”
“You got it.”
…
“Did you always want to be an aviator?” you ask, taking a bit of pizza while dusting crumbs off the bedspread.
The two of you are sitting cross-legged atop one of the beds with the open pizza box between you. Bradley grabs another slice. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to get into specifics, because that means being vulnerable, a state which Bradley does not much enjoy.
“Interesting.”
“What about you?” he asks. “What are you studying?”
“Math.”
Bradley nearly chokes. For some reason, he expected something less cerebral. “Are you going to be an accountant, or something?” he asks with a smirk.
You frown slightly. “I sure hope not.”
“Well, what do you want to be?”
“A good person,” you respond thoughtfully.
Bradley lowers his pizza and stares at you. “You are a good person,” he says hoarsely.
You shrug. “I have my days.”
“I mean, I don’t know you very well,” Bradley reasons. “But you seem great. Much better than your brother.”
You laugh and lower your gaze. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” you say warmly.
Bradley can feel his heart pounding like a double bass drum. The only sweetheart in this room is you and he can hardly keep that to himself. To think that you might be doubting your own integrity is affecting Bradley on a near-physical level. “You’re a good person. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an idiot,” he states.
You smile, still looking downward. “Thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
You place your half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and fall back into the pillows, sighing dramatically. “I’m stuffed!”
Bradley, who’s just taken his final bite, mutters around the crust in his mouth. “Me too.” He closes the pizza box and picks it up to set it onto the floor by the bed. Then, he moves to the other bed and lies down on his back with a weary exhale.
“Hey, Rooster,” you call from your bed.
“Hmm?”
“Are you a good pilot?”
Bradley turns onto his side to face you. “I think so.”
“My brother said you were just alright,” you say.
Bradley snorts and throws a pillow at you. You laugh and then stuff the pillow in between your knees. “Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this.”
Bradley adjusts his second pillow under his head and mutters, “You’re welcome.”
“Tomorrow you can choose what you want to listen to,” you say.
Bradley chuckles. What he wants to listen to more than anything is probably you.
“Hey, Rooster,” you say quietly.
“Hmm?”
“Is there any pie left?”
Tag List
I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!
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#bradley bradshaw#rooster#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#tgm#top gun#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw#rooster x reader#rooster top gun#rooster x you#top gun fandom#rooster fanfiction#rooster fic#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw fic
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Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Two
Summary: The morning after the disaster that was your engagement party has got your head pounding and you're not even sure what your next move is gonna be.
Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap)
Word Count: 5k~
Warnings: Explicit Language (maybe idk I can't remember lol) an argument and idk that's kinda it lol and ofc barely edited lmao
a/n: I'm putting out part 2 early as a thank you for all the notes and just the over all interaction you all have given my blog and this story so thank you. I've barely written anything for part 3 so there's gonna be a bigger gap between uploads so forgive me but be sure to check out my other stories as well in the meantime 🥰
Requested by: @kkusadmirer 💜
Hearing the birds outside is the first thing that brings me out of the dream state I had been in. I open my eyes and scan my surroundings and notice that I'm still at Jungkook's house. "What happened last night?" I say aloud, rubbing my eyes and sitting up before laying back down, getting an instant head rush.
"Y/n?" I hear Jungkook from the other side of door. "Come in" I say before thinking twice, not remembering anything about what happened last night. "Good morning sunshine" he says quietly, walking in with a glass of water and pain killers and I sit up slowly as he comes closer.
"How did I end up in here?" I ask and wordlessly thank him and take it real quick and start chugging the water while waiting for his response. "I carried you" he replies leaving me choking at the image.
"You carried me in here?" I ask, embarrassed that he had to take care of me like that. "Yeah you pretty much passed out on me so I kinda had to" he laughs, rubbing my back hoping to help me stop coughing. "I'm sorry I kinda don't remember anything" I admit and I see his face fall a little leaving me panicking again.
"Did I do something stupid?" I cringe and he laughs at whatever memory he has leaving me even more nervous. "No don't worry you were just being cute" he teases and I let out a breath I had been holding, thankful I didn't make too much of a fool of myself, or at least by his standards.
"I'm sorry I guess I lost control a bit" I say, looking down at my hands, embarrassed that I had given him so much trouble to deal with. "You know you say sorry a lot for someone who doesn't really have anything to be sorry about" he say and I sigh, not believing his words but not having the energy or brain capacity to argue.
"Hey" he says, tilting my chin up to look at him, you're fine y/n don't worry. I'm just glad you let me be there for you. I couldn't let you leave in the state you were in so thank you for trusting me to take care of you" he says while rubbing his thumb up against my cheek and all I can do in response is blink, so caught off guard by the sudden skin ship.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, letting go of my chin and taking the water glass from my hand. "Yes and no. Honestly I feel like I'm gonna throw up" I admit without thinking twice. "I mean I-"
"It's okay, you really did drink a lot so I'm not surprised. Let me at least make you some soup so you have something in your system" he says and I nod which satisfies him. "I'll let you know when it's ready" he continues and I nod again, watching as he makes his way out.
I hold my head in my hands, begging for the medicine to kick in so this pounding in my head goes away. Although I know though that the onset stress of not knowing what happened last night is the real cause of this headache. 'What happened last night?' I question myself silently this time, going through everything that happened yesterday but the part after me coming back inside the house after everyone left is still a little fuzzy.
I sit and think for a little while longer and before I know it Jungkook is knocking on the door again. "Foods ready" he says with a sweet smile making me forget how exactly I'm supposed to respond. "Is everything okay?" he asks, coming to sit on my side of the bed. "I just, I really don't remember what happened last night" I say and he nods and thinks for a second before responding.
"How about this, lets get some food in you first and get you feeling a bit better and then I'll tell you. Okay?" he offers, tilting his head at me and I nod after thinking for a second or two. "Great, now can you get out there on your own or do you think you need some help?" he asks and I quickly go to shut down his offer.
"No Jungkook that's okay I can manage" I say and throw the covers off of me and slowly get up off the bed and I hear him chuckle a bit. "What are you laughing at?" I ask, confused as to if he's making fun of me or not.
"No, no it's nothing. I'm just surprised you called me Jungkook on your own this time" he says as I start to stand and my heart rate picks up, not even realizing I had done that. "Well you wanted me to call you that right?" I ask shyly, but I lose my footing when I stand up, still a bit weak to my dismay but before I have a chance to fall Jungkook catches me and pulls me onto his lap.
"I-" I start but am caught off by the proximity and the memories of last night start to flood my brain and I rest my head on his shoulder just like I did before I passed out.
I groan and he laughs at my reaction, "It all coming back to you isn't it?" he asks and I nod, not daring to make eye contact with him. "I can't believe I asked you to do that. I'm sorry" I say and try to get off his lap but he pull me back on it with his hands that are firmly placed on my hips.
"Hey, you didn't do anything wrong" he says, brushing the hair that had fallen on my face out of the way. If I couldn't breathe before I definitely can't breathe now, especially since I catch him looking down at my lips before quickly flipping them back to my eyes.
"Okay" is all I can manage to choke out and before he's able to do anything else I quickly get up off his lap and walk out of the room, needing to break the tension that had started to build between us.
'What the fuck am I doing? Kissing my best friend...well ex best friend's dad? Like what the fuck is wrong with me?' I walk into the bathroom in the hallway to get an extra five minutes alone so I can try to stop my heart from racing. Who would've thought that in less than twenty four hours I would have a mental breakdown not once, but twice in this same bathroom. 'Why does this shit always have to happen to me?'
After taking a few more breaths and washing my face I walk into the kitchen where I see Jungkook enjoying his morning cup of coffee, or should I say afternoon cup of coffee as I check the clock seeing it's already past two.
"Did I really sleep this late?" I ask, cringing at the thought of yet again inconveniencing him. "Yeah but don't worry I was planning on having a lazy day anyways" he says, reading my mind and motioning for me to sit down at one of the stools on the island he has in his kitchen.
He turns his back to me and starts preparing me a bowl of soup but I can help but check him out, his strong broad shoulders that lead down to his small waist and accompanied by his ass and thick thighs I could just-
"Here you go" he say, placing the bowl in front of me and I quickly bring my eyes to the food he's given me. It smells strangely like home, almost as if my mom had made it for me when I had been sick as a kid. "Thank you" I say quietly and take a bite, moaning at the warm and rich flavor that hits my tongue without even realizing what I'd done.
"That good huh?" he asks while leaning back on one of the counters with his arms crossed over his chest. "Oh- um, yeah. Yes, thank you" I say, quickly tripping over my words but he just smiles before taking another sip of coffee and I quickly go back to eating my soup. This time quietly.
"So what are you planning on doing?" he asks casually after I've finished eating, as if I know what he's talking about. "What do you mean?" I question after taking a drink of water, him having refused to give me a cup of coffee until I had at least drank two cups of water.
"You live with my daughter right?" he questions and my whole mood turns upside down. He takes notice of it and quickly back pedals, "I guess I should've waited for you to wake up a bit more before asking you that" he says, now offering me an apology cup of coffee.
"No it's okay you're right. I probably should figure out what I'm gonna do. To be honest I think I'll move out. Just because being in the same space that I used to spend time with them in just sounds like I'm setting myself up for heartbreak" and he nods at my reasoning but I decide to continue anyways, verbally processing it all.
"If I stay there I'll be reminded of all the good times we had and the many memories we made together and I don't want to be haunted by those images. Plus a fresh start sounds perfect to me" I say and he continues while adding the perfect amount of milk and sugar to my coffee, weirdly.
"So are you just going to stay there until you find a place?" he asks and I think about how awkward it's going to be just working around her until I find that perfect place. "I was thinking I could probably ask my sister if I could crash at her place for a bit" I say thinking of the first solution that comes to mind.
"But doesn't your sister live on the opposite side of the city from your internship?" he questions and I slump at that realization. "You're right. I guess I'll just have to wake up a bit earlier" I say, trying to figure out how to remedy this problem full well knowing it's been hard enough for me to wake up and get there on time even though I only lived ten minutes away.
"Why don't you stay here?" he offers and my whole body straightens up instantly, "You would let me stay here?" I ask, my eyebrows raised as high as they possibly could, surprised that he would even offer something like that and he nods in response.
"You would let me stay here?" I question again, clarifying if I heard him right. "Yeah why not? I've got plenty of space and it's not like we're strangers or anything. Plus your internship is only about ten minutes further from here than where you live now" he says, making good points as to why I should take him up on the offer.
"I couldn't possibly do that to you. I mean I wouldn't want to disturb your life like that. But thank you!" I say, shutting down the idea right away but he persists nonetheless.
"Again, I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to. You're more than welcome to stay here and you can even move upstairs into one of the bigger bedrooms. Plus I have a storage unit that I haven't really used so you can store any big pieces of furniture you might have" he continues, trying to convince me even more and when he sees that I am about to refuse again he comes up with a compromise.
"Stay one more night. Tomorrow's Sunday right? That way you won't have to worry about work or anything like that so we can just relax and talk about things over today and tomorrow and then you can decide what you'd like to do" he says and it gets me to think about it for a second which makes him hopeful and ultimately I end up accepting.
"I guess I could stay one more night" I say and he gives me a half smile which some how makes me more nervous than a full one and so I take the first sip of my coffee that has honestly gone cold by now.
"Perfect. Did you want me to go take you to your place to pick up some clothes that you might need?" he questions, jumping at the opportunity to be helpful. "No that's okay. I drove here so I have my car out front" I say, shutting his next offer down but he make another good point that has me second guessing myself.
"Are you sure you want to drive when you're hungover? I don't think I can let you do that" he says, falling into a protective mode which is endearing but I don't think I could take advantage of him like that since he's already done so much for me. "I'll be fine Jungkook don't worry" I say and he nods his head respecting my choice and I let out a breath, happy that I don't have to fight him on this one too.
"Okay, did you want to borrow some more of my clothes so you can shower before you go?" he questions and I smile awkwardly, happy that he offered but guilty that he yet again is helping me out.
"I'll be back in a sec" he chuckles and walks past me, placing a hand on my back as he passes by which makes me sit up straight at the feeling and I watch him as he jogs upstairs to go retrieve said clothes.
He comes down seconds later with the clothes, a towel and even a toothbrush in hand. "Thought you might want one of these too" he says and I accept it all sheepishly before excusing myself and making my way into the bathroom.
How am I even supposed to act in this kind of situation? Like my ex best friend's dad who I kissed last night while I was drunk is now offering to let me stay here so I can move out of the apartment I share with his toxic daughter that my boyfriend cheated on me with. Like this is just way too much weirdness for me.
I shake off those thoughts and get in the shower to quickly get rid of all of these roaming thoughts and just hope and pray that somehow things will work out and I can settle into a new normal with my own place as soon as possible but I guess that luck just isn't on my side these days...
~~~~
After getting out of the shower and getting dressed I dry my hair with the hair dryer I happened to find under the sink and try to make myself look as presentable as possible so when I go back home I don't look like the complete mess that I know I am on the inside.
There's no reason I should be showing any kind of weakness around Jina or Jared so I just need to get in and get out of there as fast as I can so I can avoid as much awkwardness as possible. Being hungover doesn't help this situation in the slightest so I just really hope that she's not even there.
Walking out of the bathroom I'm met with a freshly clean Jungkook, scrolling through his phone while sitting on the couch and he quickly turns his head once he notices I've finished up.
"You feeling okay" he asks, always concerned for my wellbeing and I guess I just need to chalk it up to the parent side of him. Maybe that's all this is? Maybe Jina hasn't really given him an opportunity to be her dad in a while so he's just seeing me as another daughter he wants to take care of. That makes a lot more sense so thinking about it now I think I can go into this with a lot clearer mindset than before.
"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better thankfully" I say and head to the guest room where I stayed last night. "If you wanna just throw all of that into the washing machine I'll get a load going later on" he calls after me and I simply do as he asks and then head back into said bedroom.
"Hey Jungkook have you seen my phone?" I question while throwing the blankets around, trying to figure out where I could've put it. "Yeah you left it out in the living room last night so I put it on the charger when I woke up. Here" he says and I jolt at the sound of his voice being in the room with me, full on expecting him to still be on the couch.
"Thank you" I say while holding my hand out to take it with the other one placed over my heart, trying to calm down after the shock of him getting here so quickly. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" he chuckles and I wave off his apology, not seeing any need for it. "It's fine don't worry about it" I say and once I unlock it I see call after call after call after call from not only Jared but Jina, my mom and my sister, with just as many text messages to match.
"Looks like you're really popular today" he jokes, trying to make light of the situation. "Not for the right reasons" I mumble and lock my phone, not bothering to sift through the hundreds of notifications just yet.
"I've gotta head out and get a few things at the store so why don't you come with me? We can stop by your place to get your things and then this way you can help me pick out some groceries so we have stuff that you like as well" he says while grabbing his keys and instead of trying to refuse I simply nod and follow him outside.
We get in the car and drive silently to my place but once we get a bit closer I stop him. "Would you mind parking around the corner? It's just...well I don't want Jina to see you driving me around and make a big deal about it" he nods his head and without a fuss pulls into the coffee shop parking lot around the corner.
"Is this alright?" he questions and I nod and get out of the car. "Let me know if you need any help. She's my daughter so it's not like she would do anything drastic if I was around" he says, referring to her sometimes short temper. Plus with these added hormones there's no telling how she gonna be reacting to things now that everything is out in the open.
As I make my way to the apartment I check my phone to see if she's still sharing her location with me and thankfully she is and I see that she's still at work so hopefully if move fast enough I should be in and out before she comes home.
Walking into the apartment it looks as though she's started gathering her own stuff up in boxes, almost as if she's getting ready to move out. I appreciate the fact that since she fucked up that she automatically volunteered to move out but she's more than welcome to keep this place as far as I'm concerned.
I jog back into my room, reminding myself of the task at hand and I grab my duffle bag and start putting as many things as I think I'll need to get me through at least a few days in case anything happens. Better safe than sorry right?
My last stop is the bathroom where I pack up my shampoo and conditioner as well as my skincare products and throw it all into a plastic bag that I'm able to place easily on top of the rest of the items in the bag but before I'm even able to finish getting the rest of my toiletries together I'm greeted with the sound of Jina walking in.
"Y/n?" she calls out and I swear under my breath, trying to think of a way to make this whole situation as quick and painless as possible. "Y/n?" she says again, rounding the corner and finding me in the bathroom where I've started to pick up the pace and throw things in haphazardly wanting to get the fuck out already.
"What are you doing?" she questions me and I walk past her and back into my room and throw the bag in my duffle bag and zip everything up. "Please don't ignore me" she says in pretty much the most pitiful voice I've ever hear out of her and I scoff and roll my eyes. "You don't have the right to be acting like that. I'm moving out so don't bother moving out if you want the apartment" I say and throw on a baseball hat and walk out of my room and make a b line for the front door.
"Y/n please talk to me" she pleads and it's taking everything in me not to slap that 'poor me' attitude out of her. "You wanna talk? Let's speed this up for the both of us alright? You slept with my boyfriend behind my back, got pregnant and ruined my relationship and now I'm moving out. That pretty much covers everything if I'm not mistaken so let's just call this conversation over. I'll be back to pick up the rest of my shit later so don't touch anything" I say quickly without giving her a second to get a word in.
"When's later?" she asks and I roll my eyes at her pitiful excuse in trying to keep me here. "Whenever the hell I feel like it Jina. Sorry I can't make everything magically disappear right away" I say and turn to grab the handle but she just keeps going.
"Where are you staying?" she has the audacity to ask and I smile and shake my head at her stupidity. "Why would I ever tell you that? So you can come bother me with your lame excuses of apologizing. Or oh yeah even worse telling Jared where to find me so he can do the same thing. Why don't you guys do all of us a favor and stay the hell out of my life" I say and walk out the door, making sure to slam it right behind me.
While walking back to Jungkook's car I try my best to calm my breathing so I can hide what happened from him. There's no reason why he even needs to know that she showed up so might as well keep it to myself.
As I get closer to his car I watch as he looks up and sees me coming and gets out to grab my bag from me. "Is this everything you wanted?" he questions, taking it from me and placing it in the trunk. "Yep that's everything. Or at least enough to get me through the next few days" I say and get in the car with him following suit soon after.
"Are you okay?" he asks, concern now laced all over his expression. "I'm totally fine, why do you ask?" I question in the most awkward tone of voice I've ever heard come out of me. "Because you're shaking" he points out and grabs one of my hands, holding it between two of his.
"No it's okay I'm fine" I say, my voice now getting wobbly, matching the shakiness of my hands. "Something happened in there didn't it?" he asks and I shake my head but he raises a questioning brow at me which has me nodding a moment later, admitting to what happened. "Jina came home" I say and take a shaky breath in and out, trying to keep myself from crying.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he questions and I quickly shake my head and he nods his and lets go of my hand and turns to start the car and pull out of the parking lot but as soon as we're on the main road again he reaches out for one of my hands and holds onto it again, not letting go until we get to the store.
~~~~~
Grocery shopping with him feels weirdly domestic and felt as though we had done it dozens of times before, with both of our methods on how to shop quickly and efficiently matching up perfectly and so time flies and before I know it we're already putting the groceries away in his kitchen.
"We make a pretty good team huh?" he says and tossing me an apple and I catch it in time, further proving his point. "I guess we do" I say amusedly and take a big bite out of it. "No I'm serious! I swear whenever I go alone I always end up forgetting one of the most obvious ingredients and with your help I don't think I forgot a single thing" he says taking a bite of the apple he had gotten for himself.
"Well I'm glad to have been of some help. I feel bad since you've been doing nothing but taking care of me for the past twenty four hours and I haven't been able to give you anything in return" I admit, twisting the stem of until it pops off.
"You've given me plenty in return" he laughs off, as if I had said something ridiculous. "Oh yeah like what?" I ask, taking another bite of the apple and leaning back against the counter.
"You've definitely given me quite a few laughs today" he says and I scrunch my eyebrows together knowing that he's just making fun of me. "And you've definitely made my day a whole lot more interesting. Plus I learned some new things about you" he says and I gulp at that last part, knowing I've definitely overshared with him quiet a few times.
"Like how you prefer green apples over red. How you prefer white bread over wheat and that you get shy whenever I get close to you" he lists off, the last one obviously catching me off guard.
"I-" I start but I'm frozen in place as he gets closer to me and I just realized how I've backed myself into a corner. "Jungkook I-" I try again but my efforts die in my throat when he places his hands on either side of my hips, trapping me against the counter, staring at me as if he hasn't eaten in weeks.
"Do you wanna tell me why that is?" he asks, tilting his head almost taunting me. "I don't know what you're talking about" I say, doing my best to remain level headed. "You sure about that?" he asks and I nod my head in response, not trusting my voice to stay steady this time. "Then why are you holding your breath?" he says while placing his hand on my neck and using his thumb to press down on my chin, encouraging me to open my mouth which I do with almost no hesitation.
"I don't know" I whisper but he leans in closer, bringing his lips closer to mine. "I think you're lying" he say, his warm breath fanning my face, promises of pleasure hidden behind those words and it has me whimpering at the thought.
"Y/n, earth to y/n" Jungkook says, bursting the bubble of the incredibly inappropriate daydream I had been having in front of him. "I-i'm sorry what was that?" I stutter, making it clear that I hadn't been paying attention.
"Maybe you're running a fever" he says, walking over to me and placing the back of his hand to my forehead, his cool hand causing a shiver to run down my spine. "What makes you say that?" I ask, looking up at him, taking in his features from our closer proximity. "Because you're burning up, and your whole face has gone red" he says and I feel my cheeks getting even more red at his observation.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asks, making purposeful eye contact with me. "Yeah I just, I think I need to go lay down for a while" I say, finding the easiest escape route possible. "That's probably a good idea. I shouldn't have kept you out for so long" he says, guilt clouding his expression and I take one of his hands in mine without giving it a second thought making him jolt for a second but tighten his hold around mine just seconds later.
"I'm fine don't worry" I say with a small smile, "It was my fault for drinking so much. If I'm ever around you again and there's alcohol involved could you do me a favor and stop me from drinking so much" I laugh, trying to lift his spirits and it seems to do the trick.
"Of course darling" he says and places a kiss on the center of my forehead. "Now go lay down, you really are burning up" he says, having felt the heat radiating off of me from the kiss he had graced me with. I smile up at him and nod my head before turning around and heading back to my room.
Living with him might not be so bad. It's been a while since someone's taken care of me or even shown me such simple kindness without needing anything in return. I'm not sure if it would be the smartest decision but I'm definitely warming up to the idea...
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BBR thoughts 2024
Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies
This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not
So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters
I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash
I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted
Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it
At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do
Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction
So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older
I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet
When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"
But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work
If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now
I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:
Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)
I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat
I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least
I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example
I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep
I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor
I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence
The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers
Some new Dolly outfits
Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days
Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo
I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused
One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book
An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well
So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)
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Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife pregnant!reader where she's got Brixton Hicks and he'd worried about her but she still accompanied him to the race and then her labor kick in? His team took care of her and call the medic and calm him down during the race because he got panic and excited. Later he quickly got to the hospital and still witness his child(s) birth. I don't know if it make sense. (He's at Aston Martin) Add something you'd like. Tag me later! Thanks! :))
oopsie daisy!- oneshot
a/n: lol this is gonna be so goofy in the best way possible
||@pear-1206||
warnings: very possibly inaccurate portrayals of pregnancy, i'm just a girl!!!!!!!
-> fernando alonso x pregnant!reader, no physical descriptions of reader besides pregnancy.. duh!
word count: 512 words
masterlist
The Spain Grand Prix was a momentous and historic race, especially for 2 time world champion, Fernando Alonso, considering the fact that it was his home Grand Prix.
This year's Barcelona Gran Prix was made even more special considering the fact that his first child was on the way. He had gotten his mother, father and you paddock passes to be in the garage for the race. The day was going to be perfect. In Fernando's book, at least.
You, on the other hand, were struggling. It was nearly a week past your due date, and your baby didn't seem to be happy about it either. For the last month, you had been struggling with Braxton Hicks during the last few months of your pregnancy.
It was a calculated risk for you to attend the Grand Prix, but you'd been given the green light by your doctor, and you also wanted to support Fernando, so, yeah. Your luck couldn't possibly be poor enough for you to go into labour at your husband's home Grand Prix... right?
The Barcelona weather was sweltering and warm on the day of the Grand Prix, however, much to your relief, you were granted the chilly air of the air conditioning from the inside of the paddock. You were still able to watch the race from a platform, not only from the TV, but also from window peering above the track.
Everything seemed to be fine, until 3 quarters through the race. It was around lap 40 when you felt a warm gush of water in between your legs.
"Ana?" You call out for your mother-in-law.
"Yes, mi amor?" She replies, half distracted by the race.
"I think the baby is coming." You cringe and brace your arms around your stomach.
"Ay dios mío!" Ana exclaims, guiding you towards the exit of the paddock. Her loud exclamation begins to raise eyebrows across the paddock, and when the crew of the Aston Martin team begin to notice the commotion that's occurring, they immediately step away from their work and rush over to assist you.
It's the final and 66th lap of the Grand Prix when Chris, Fernando's right hand man and race engineer, begins to speak over the radio. Fernando's had a good race, currently holding a 20 second lead over the second driver.
"Fernando, now that your position is secure, I have a surprise for you when you finish the race." Chris speaks from the pit-wall, a cheeky grin on his face.
"Ah, that's never good." Fernando laughs over the radio as he passes over the finish line and takes the first victory for the Aston Martin team.
"I think you might like this one."
Everyone notices how Fernando is absent from the podium.
It's really abnormal for the champion of the race to be gone from the podium, but nevertheless, the drivers don't really ask questions as they've been told that he had to handle an urgent personal matter.
Little do they know, Fernando is on the way to the hospital to accompany you in giving birth.
#fernando alonso#fa14#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso x you#fernando alonso imagine#fernando alonso fluff#fernando alonso smut#f1 x reader
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this you knew.
warnings : (workplace) established but private relationship. fluff. that's about it actually.
also, this mostly just weirdly poetic and emotional writing. not a lot of plot or substance. sorry!
a/n: carmen refers to reader as "pico," short for "piccola" (small), and reader refers to carmen as raga, short for "ragazzone," (big boy) sorry if these nicknames are cringe they're cute to me !!!!
Fuck, it was cold.
Why did winter have to stretch out for such an excruciating amount of time? It had been snowing since late November—which, at this rate, might continue until March, give or take.
The holidays had just passed, stores were back open, The Bear was back under maintenance, leisure was nonexistent. There was no need for slush on the sidewalks and frost on your car window. You'd already spent the holidays with your extended family, even after swearing up and down you had no intention on coming home this year. Anything remotely related to that mistake needed to be disposed of.
Tonight was calm. Almost too calm. Richie and Marcus were still laying out the general foundation of the dining hall, and Carmen finally beat his record timing for passing through each station of the kitchen marked by green tape. You were pretty much free to go home. Especially since Sydney was the first to leave and encouraged you to do the same.
But just as you walked out of the empty kitchen space through the back door, something urged you to walk back in.
Just act like you forgot something.
Quickly swinging the door open and turning the corner into Natalie's office, where you knew Carmen would be, you stopped. Just barely near the frame.
Altered by your presence, Carmen snapped out of the trance that was staring at the empty space of the wall in front of him. He spun around in the 5-wheeled chair to face you.
"Raga?" you called out, not wanting to intrude as you stepped into the box of the office. Despite the door being wide open like it always was.
Raga. Sure, he wasn't a huge fan of petnames—but it made him feel like he was yours.
And he was. And you were his. Possibly for months now. And you even started to feel it. The word "boyfriend," though it wasn't used religiously, didn't feel bitter in your mouth. The way your name rolled off of Carmen's tongue was addictive to him. He preferred it over a simple 'she' when he spoke of you. You were chaos, but grace all in one.
You told your closest friends about a week after he spoke the words
"I don't really know what I'm doing, but that's—that's okay. It's more than okay. I want this."
But you hadn't told your family, and not even your true, chosen one. Which was here, in this restaurant, and everyone who played a part in it. But perhaps they already knew. Neither you or Carmen were particularly good at keeping secretes.
Just because your mouth stopped, didn't mean your body language or your face did.
Smiles and glances, whispers in corners of the restaurant incoherent to anyone else, his kisses against your temples that weren't as discreet as he hoped, it made it obvious.
But it felt right. This was okay. More than okay.
"Pico?" he repeated, mirroring that same skeptical voice you used just seconds earlier.
Eyebrows knitted with concern, your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you stood with your weight on your hip and your arms crossed against your chest. Carmen realized you stood like this all the time. But right now, he almost felt like he was in some kind of trouble; the way you eyed him above his level. Like you'd been looking for him and he failed to come to your assistance.
His urge to cave and melt into you was overwhelming. Big, blue eyes peered up at you as he leaned forward, prepared to listen. You only smiled while shrugging your shoulders and leaning against the doorframe.
"Think everybody went home. I didn't really see y'leave. Just—" you swallowed, "—wondered if you'd left or not."
That seemed to finally be enough to soothe him. You just wanted to know if he was here; if he was okay and ready to go home like he should've been.
"Uh—yeah, yeah, I'm still here."
"Yeah, I see that now."
The room stilled. Silence bounced off the drywall. But it was comfortable. It wasn't forced or unwanted. Just simple. And simplicity was scarce at the moment.
"C'mere," Carmen mumbled as he motioned his hand to signal you to come in, his voice barely audible, "just for a 'sec."
Caving in, his cadence and the look in his eyes being enough to convince you, you stepped in. He blinked slowly so as to not miss a single bit of you. For once, you could appreciate the slow of time in this room.
"I'm feeling really good about this," you smiled down at him, "this whole thing, I mean. Mikey woulda' been so proud 'f you, Carmen."
The lump in his throat was harshly swallowed back down as he nodded his head, not quite smiling, but not frowning either. You knew that face all too well. It was the face of guilt. He always wondered if he'd been doing the right thing. Lately it'd been easier to convince himself that the renovation was right, and that he was completely and fully capable of making these "adult decisions," as you called them.
"Thank you."
It was mostly thanks to you, though.
A delicate hand reached for a curl that fell just past his eyebrow. You wrapped the blonde strands around your finger, glancing from his eyes and back to his hair, just to see if he'd been watching you as closely as you hoped. Almost as if it had been second nature, he tilted his head up for easier access as you pulled away from his hair and reached to cup his clean-shaven cheek.
"I mean it, bear," your thumb gently caressed his skin as you spoke. He looked up at you as if he'd just found God in your eyes.
"I know," he tried to protest, giving you a weak smile and threatening to pull his head away.
But he waited.
There'd never been anyone in the universe, on the planet, in the country, in the culinary industry, in this city, or in this restaurant who saw through you the way Carmen Berzatto did. He'd been your head chef even before what was then, The Beef. You followed him back to his home city even months after the two of you made a pact to quit your last job as his sous, and his as your head chef. There was nothing you wanted more than to see him chase his stardom.
You loved him. This you knew.
"You're better at what you do than you'll ever give yourself credit for."
This he knew. At least now he did.
You took him in again with one look. His little moles here and there, his blue eyes, the rose of his cheeks. And at a moments notice, you leaned down to kiss him like it was the last thing you'd ever do. Carmen rose without even letting your lips separate. His hand planted itself at your waist as the other held the back of your head and gently buried itself into your hair. He tasted like cigarettes and mint with a hint of that bitter and filmy residue left on pill capsules.
He loved you. This you knew.
"Maybe you should give yourself some credit, too."
This you knew.
#carmen berzatto#idk what this is#it's mostly just poetic emotional writing#not a lot of substance#but this is just how I write#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto x reader#ughhh this kinda love will always be the death of me#carmy berzatto#the bear
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Could you do one where Elijah gets food poisoning or something during a race weekend and tries to push through anyway and they comfort him
Everyone gets Sick
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader x Charles Leclerc
Elijah is 18, Cecile is 14. Elijah is in his first season in F2
A/N: Also felt like making this only Lando and Elijah. Just a little insight into their relationship, also I can’t find a face claim I like for Elijah, so if anyone has recommendations for blonde male face claims that’ll help a lot .
"You good kid?" Elijah groans, raising his head slightly from between his legs. "Yeah, I'm good." Elijah looks up at his engineer. "You sure?" He questions, Elijah was pale. Not the pale where it's normal but the kind that he looked ready to pass out.
"Yes, just...ugh." Elijah feels that burn and muscles clamping all over his body as he swallows, trying hard not to vomit. "Elijah, listen if you can't race no one is going to fault you." His engineer Paul whispers. "No, I have to race." Gasping, as he sucks in the humid air of Monza.
"Damn kid." Paul curses, walking off as the boy tries hard to control his stomach. "You look like shit." Glaring at his younger sister she smiles handing him a water bottle.
"Where's Dad?" Elijah whispers, just craving him. "Media Duties. Want me to get him?" He shakes his head no, at 18 Elijah wasn't sure what he really wanted. "You're sick." "Thank you captian obvious." Elijah growls, his stomach curling this time he's not able to stop it.
Moving quick, he grabs the small bucket and coughs loudly as his sister cringes patting his back. "So gross." Cecile groans trying hard to not turn around. Spitting, Elijah grabs his bottle and takes a sip swirling it around before spitting.
"Don't," Elijah gasps pushing his blonde hair back, "Tell anyone." "That's stupid, you're sick. I'm telling." Standing she goes to get either her dads of Mama, but when a large hand slaps down on her arm she stops. "Please, don't. I need these points Cece. I'm so close." She groans, rolling her head as she tries to do the right thing.
"Eli, you could crash! What would you do if you need to vomit? You can't. I'm getting Dad." Elijah groans, hand slipping as Cece takes off.
--------------------------------
"I couldn't be prouder of my son. His first season in F2 and he's second in the title fight is a wonderful thing, I wish," "Dad! Dad! Daddy!" Lando stops talking, whipping around to see Cecile pushing through the media. "Excuse me." Lando rushes off, meeting her halfway.
"Baby? What's wrong?" Lando worries, looking over his daughter as she gasps for air. "It's," She takes another deep breath, "Woah, that was a run. I didn't know it would be that far," She rambles Lando confused. "Cecile, what's wrong?" He's trying to stay calm, but it's not easy when your 14-year-old daughter comes screaming.
"Oh, it's Eli. He's," Lando doesn't wait as he bolts off heading towards Elijah's garage. "Oh god, more running." Cecile whines running after her Dad.
"Elijah? Elijah? Ducky!" "I'm here Dad." He groans, Lando skidding to a stop as he kneels down before his son. "And don't call me Ducky." He gasps as he turns, throwing up. Lando cringes still hating anything to do with throwing up. But this is his son and he's sick. His childish aversion would have to be put to rest.
"Oh, Ducky." Lando whispers grabbing a cold water and pouring it over a towel before wringing it out, laying it on his neck. "I hate this." Elijah gasps, tears slipping down. "It's food poisoning. We told you not to eat that burger. You said it tasted weird, should've stopped." Lando scolds, but it holds no heat sitting next to his son.
"Dad?" "Yeah Ducky?" Elijah scoots closer, placing his head on Lando's shoulder. "I don't think I can race. I'm sorry." His throat grows tights, except this time it due to the tears. "Why are you sorry? You can't help it." Lando laughs, pulling Elijah in, resting his chin on top of his son's head.
"You're always so proud of me. Pa and you always raced even when you're sick. I should be able to do that too, but I can't." He whispers. Lando sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around his little boy. "Everyone gets sick, Elijah. I rather you not race then race and get in a crash. I'm proud of you no matter what, you're my little Ducky." Lando kisses Elijah's forehead, Elijah closing his eyes as he leans more into Lando.
Even though he's grown, it's moments like these that Lando craves for them to be younger, smaller. They always wanted him when they were sick, but to know that his little boy who's a man now still wanted him, healed a small crack in his heart.
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taglist: @andydrysdalerogers @kellzsthings @christianpulisic10
@tagteamedbitch @changetyre @minamisulemisa @dancingrox
@idontknowwhyimherelov @ariyancoffe @abcheksl @utdmount
@mysticstudentbagelhairdo @talishein @champomiel @champagnesprays @anya7802 @sebbybucky12
@reality-is-a-con @hollie911 @flowerhowellsworld @myheartgoesvroom
@nora-moon @nowimyurdaisy @linejoergensen92-blog @xeliaaa @mcmuppet @ryiamarie
#our boy series#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#formula one#f1 scenario#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris blurb#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#charlando#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#lando norris fluff#dad!lando#dad!lando norris#lando norris fic
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Hoodie ;)
I've already done a blurb for this but I actually loved it so much so I thought why not do another one
Hoodie Blurb II:
It was a fool proof plan.
There's this one particular hoodie of hers that you've taken a liking to. It's one of Leah's original pieces of clothing that she got when she first signed for Arsenal all those years ago. So it's sentimental to her in a way.
So for course you wanted it for yourself.
No matter how many times Leah takes it back, not matter how deep on her side of the dresser she hides the worn-down, ratty looking thing, it somehow always ends up back in your possession.
So Leah rolls with it.
It comes to her as a late-night thought. As she's watching your peaceful form sleeping so soundly next to her Leah knows she wants you to be hers. For good.
You're off having lunch with Steph when she does it. Having just done the laundry, it's one of the rare times you've left the hoodie to Leah's care. So slipping the tiny box into the front pocket, Leah carefully folds the hoodie back up, making sure to take extra care to plop it closer to your half of the drawer when putting it away.
When she grabs a pair of socks the next day, Leah's happy to see the piece of clothing gone.
Now all she has to do is wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
It isn't until the third day has passed and you still haven't said anything about her engagement ring that Leah musters up the courage to say something.
"Babe, have you seen my favorite hoodie?"
"Nope." you pop the 'p,' not even glancing away from the television. But the smile playing on your lips tells Leah you know exactly where it is.
"Well I'm cold. Do you mind finding it for me?"
If anything, you seem to relax into the couch some more, propping your hands up behind your head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks."
Leah narrows her eyes at the pet name. "Muffin-buns, why not?"
At that, you look up, not able to keep a straight face at her choice of words. "'Muffin-buns'?"
"Would you prefer 'honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'?"
It's quiet as you stare at Leah. Leah does nothing but stare right back.
The silence only lasts three seconds before you're both howling, laughing at the ridiculous pet name.
Clutching her stomach, Leah's wiping away her tears when you shove hard at her shoulder.
"'Honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'? Baby, why?"
Leah muffles her snort into your hairline as you snuggle into her side, scoffing under your breath about how much you hate her. Here Leah only feels her love for you grow. This is the type of afternoons she wants to have for the rest of her life. Wrapped up around you, swapping jokes and laughter. Leah's heart beats for you and only you and she wants you to know it.
Before Leah can bring up her hoodie again however, you beat her to the punch.
And she instantly feels the ice settle in her veins.
"Katie was shivering after practice today so I let her borrow it. She said she'd return it tomorrow though!"
.
You've long passed out on the couch, the tiredness of today's training catching up to you. Slipping away into the guest bedroom, Leah closes the door shut before pulling out her phone.
To her relief, Katie's contact picture lights up the screen before she has a chance to press call herself.
"Katie--" Leah starts... Only to be interrupted by a loud, angered Irish accent.
"Mate! Of all of the places in the world, why would you hide your goddamn ring in your stupid little hoodie?! Caitlin nearly passed out thinking I was going to propose when I pulled it out! And then she cussed me out when I told her it wasn't mine!"
Leah cringes. "In my defense, (Y/N) was not supposed to loan you out the hoodie."
There's a slight pause on the other side of the phone. And then a sharp sigh. "Please don't tell me this was you plan for proposing to (Y/N)."
Leah bites her lip. "Okay, I won't."
"Leah!"
Send me a fic title
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#Ace writes
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Tattoo
Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader (Negan is y/n's art teacher & also owns a tattoo shop).
Warnings: THIS IS THE FILTHIEST THING I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR and it's just going to get filthier from here on. smut, forbidden love, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 38), angst, oral (female receiving), lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn.(there's an actual plot this time), vaginal sex, public sex, breeding, slight daddy kink
Summary: After graduating and leaving behind the man she fell for but couldn't have, y/n decides to get a tattoo that reminds her of him. And he gives it to her.
A/n: ugh, this had me in my feels. A "hard to get" teacher Negan. basically you're negan's former student and he gives you a tattoo and things.. well - just read it.
"Well damn. I don't mean to be sentimental, but I have seriously enjoyed teaching you little shits. I hope you can take what you've learned and apply it to something. Be creative. Oh, and.. don't think about hitting me up on Instagram after this because I don't do social media. That shit is toxic. Remember that, kids."
The bell cuts Negan off before he can finish his inspirational speech. He's always had such a way with words.. should have been an English teacher instead.
Most of the students rush out like the room is on fire, with the exception of a few annoying girls that think he'll jump their bones now that school is out.
"So, Mr. Smith, since you don't have social media, can I get your number at least?" I cringe as she twirls her hair around her finger and her friends giggle obnoxiously behind her.
"Girls. Behave for once. A tip for college? Don't flirt with your professors." He warns while motioning them out the door.
I suddenly realize that my ass has been glued to my seat this entire time and I'm the only one still here. I quickly get up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. He stares at me from the doorway but I just look down as I walk towards him.
"Bye Mr. Smith."
"Nice try. Sit down." He shuts his door and walks back into the room pointing towards my chair for me to sit.
"Mr. Smith, y/n?" He mocks. "Seriously?"
I never call him that. He's always been Negan to me.
I've known him for 4 years now. He's the only art teacher at Alexandria High, and even though I have no interest in art, I've taken his class every year because I do have an interest.. in him.
What he doesn't know is that I've been making mental notes everyday for the past four years about all his interests, personal life, hobbies, you name it.
He loves the color red - because it's the only color expo marker he writes in.
His favorite lunch is two cigarettes and coke zero. I hate that he smokes.
He stopped coaching baseball last year because he said he didn't have time anymore. But I think it's actually because he's never cared for it to begin with.
He had a wife, but she passed away. Some kind of cancer. She's still his computer wallpaper, which tells me he still hasn't moved on even though it was six years ago. My heart hurts for him.
He wasn't lying - he doesn't have social media....I would have found it.
He sits at another student's desk right next to mine with his body facing me.
"You gonna tell me why the hell you look like your best fucking friend just died?"
I stare at the floor next to his shoes and try to think about anything other than fact that I'm never going to see him again.
"Look at me."
I slowly lift my eyes to his and can't stop the tear that escapes the second I see his face.
"Ah, shit." His expression turns serious when he notices my tears. "Look, kid. I -"
"Stop calling me kid." I snap.
He chuckles. "Hate to break it to ya y/n, but you are very much a kid in my eyes, which is why this thing -" he motions his hand towards me. "this.. crush you have on me - has to end today."
My eyes widen as I stare at him speechless. He seriously did not just assume I have a crush on him.
"Did you jus - You seriously think just because a few stupid girls want to get in your pants, it means everyone does?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. You're my teacher. I don't have a crush on you."
He laughs as if we both know I'm lying - which I am.
"Alright, I'm sorry I called you a kid. Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"
"It's just I - I'm gonna miss you." I instantly regret saying it.
He nods and looks at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm sorry. I - I'm just gonna go." I get up to leave, leaving my heart with him. My stomach twists in a knot when I realize he isn't getting up to stop me.
Why would he?
Once I'm in the hall, I turn to take one last look at him. He's bent over with his hands through his hair as if his best friend just died.
Negan's POV:
That fucking girl. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never cared about a student like I do her. I care about all of my students, but goddamn it, she's had me wrapped around her finger for longer than I'm comfortable to admit - And I never will.
She fucking sucks at hiding her feelings. I knew from the first day she walked into my class that she wanted to jump on my dick. Hell, every girl does. But other girls bat their fake eyelashes at me and tell me how they feel. Y/n.. she's.. obsessed with me.
She thinks I didn't notice her doodling my name in her notebook with little hearts. Or that I don't hear her whispering to her friends about the dreams she has about me. Or how she stares at me during lectures like she's on a different planet.
And if that's not enough, the girl hates art. Yet she's chosen it as her elective every single year. She has straight A's in every class, but doesn't even try in mine.
And yet.. my dumb ass still passed her with an A.
Maybe because I'm obsessed with her too.
Back to Y/n's POV:
I cried on the way home that day.
While everyone else celebrated school ending with a party, I stayed in my room and cried while looking at his photo in the yearbook.
While everyone walked across the stage at graduation, my diploma came in the mail and I stayed home holding Negan's lucky baseball bat that he gave me last year.
My last day of junior year, I stayed after school to help Negan clean out his classroom so he could move into a bigger art room. That was the year he quit coaching. I replay the memory in my head more often than I should..
"Why do you have this bat just sitting in the corner?"
"It brings me good luck. I hit a home run every game my senior year with that bat."
"Your senior year? This bat is that old?!"
"Watch it, kid." He rolls his eyes and throws some folders in a bin.
"Hmm." I study the bat. "I could use some luck."
"Keep it."
I look at him confused. "But... it's your-"
"I want you to have it." He cuts me off.
"Are - Are you sure?"
He sighs frustrated. "Do you not want it?"
"Well, I mean, I do but -"
"Then stop being stubborn and take it."
Ever since that day, his bat has been leaned up against the wall by my bed as a constant reminder of the man I want but can never have.
After a few weeks of feeling sorry for myself, my best friend tried convincing me to do something for myself since my birthday was coming up.
"Y/n, you should.. get your nails done, go buy some new clothes, do.. something. But you need to get out of that room. It's... depressing."
"I think I want a tattoo."
"Oh, okay, yeah. That's a good idea. What are you wanting to get?" She asks from the other end of the phone.
"I dunno." My eyes drift towards the bat. "Something meaningful."
The next day...
Lucille's
The tattoo shop sign reads. I swing the door open, excited for the first time in a month. The sound of tattoo guns and rock music fills the lobby.
"Hey, welcome to Lucille's. Do you have an idea of what you'd like or do you want to see some of our work?" The woman on the other side of the counter pulls out a binder.
"Oh, no, I think I know what I want already." I smile and pull up the picture on my phone before showing her.
"Okay, we can do that. Shouldn't take too long either. An hour tops. I can actually take you now in room 3." The so-called "rooms" aren't actually rooms, but rather closed off sections with tall walls on each side. From where I'm standing, I can't see the people in the tattoo chair, but I can see the top of the tattoo artists' heads if I stand on my tippy-toes.
She leads me to room 3 and I sit in the chair while she gets out the instruments.
"This your first tattoo?"
"Yeah, kinda nervous."
She smiles. "I'd tell you not to worry, but, sorry babe. It's gonna hurt."
I appreciate her honesty and just smile back at her.
"So, where do we want it?" she holds the printed off picture off of the tattoo I want.
I lean back in the chair, putting my legs up, so I'm laying down. I lift my shirt up right above my belly button and slightly pull my shorts down, revealing my pubic bone. "Right here." I point to the left side of where my panty line would be but lower.
After I confirm the placement, she presses the needle to my skin and I bite my bottom lip at the sudden pain that radiates throughout my hip.
"Breathe, babe. You got this."
After a couple seconds, she turns in her chair to load more ink into the gun.
"Y/n?" I hear from the entrance behind me.
I know that voice without turning to look. My eyes widen and the girl tattooing me looks at him.
"Hey boss, you two know each other?" She looks between the two of us.
I look back at him and see him nod at her. "I'll finish her up, Ruby. Thanks." He takes the tattoo gun from her and sits in her chair when she gets up to leave. The scent of leather and cigarettes fills the small room and I realize how much I missed it.
He pauses when he looks down at my skin and I can't tell if he's staring because of my tattoo of choice or because I'm almost completely exposed. If I didn't just shave, half of my pubic hair would be on display to him.
The way he's looking at my skin wakes the butterflies in my stomach and I have to mentally tell myself not to clench my legs together. He looks up at me through heavy eyelids and for the first time in four years, I'm unable to read him. I can't tell if he's disappointed, mad... or turned on...?
He looks back at the tattoo and shakes his head, sighing.
Okay, it's definitely a look of disappointment.
"You realize I have to finish this now that she's already started it, right?" He studies the lines already permanently marked in my skin. The faint purple lines of where the sticker was placed give away the complete outline of what the tattoo will be. "There's still time to change it though."
"What? What do you mean.. change it? I want this one."
"No." Is all he says and my eyes widen in shock at him.
"You can't tell me what to do Negan. I'm an adult, and I'm getting it."
"Why?" He snaps, frustration dripping from his tone.
He looks into my eyes for the first time since he's been in the room and the butterflies in my stomach have now gone wild.
"Because I... I want a piece of you with me always."
He closes his eyes and drops his head. My eyes start to water but I hold them back the best I can.
"Y/n." He shakes his head but to my surprise, he hesitantly places his left hand on my thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the spot I've imagined him touching a million times. The feel of his rough fingers on my bare skin ignites a flame in me I didn't know existed and all I do is stare at his hand.
"Relax." He rolls his eyes and starts the gun. He leans down closer and begins tattooing me.
I have to bite back the moan threatening to escape my lips. With Ruby.. it hurt. But with Negan, it.. almost feels good.
He glances up at me as if he can hear my thoughts and then goes back to gliding a straight line of ink across my skin.
The next few moments are spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the tattoo gun and music playing in the distance.
"Fuck, y/n. I'm gonna need these off so I can get to you better." He gestures at my shorts.
My eyes widen but I nod and slide them off, barely breathing now that I'm laying in front of Negan in just my underwear. The way his jaw ticks when he sees that I'm wearing red lace panties doesn't go unnoticed. His favorite color.
He places his hand back on my leg, this time with his fingers completely against my inner thigh. I slightly part my legs without thinking and he pauses to glance at me before continuing with the tattoo.
If he moved his finger half an inch upwards, he would be touching me.
"I never knew you worked at a tattoo shop." I break the silence, hoping to get my mind off his hand.
He chuckles. "I own it, darlin'. And there's a lot you don't know about me."
Another long pause happens before he speaks first this time.
"Why did you take art, y/n?"
"Uh.. I dunno, because I liked it."
He huffs out a laugh. "You liked it... or me?"
I shrug. "Both."
His face turns serious again and he stops the tattoo gun. "All done."
He backs away and motions for me to stand up and look in the mirror in the corner. I stand in front of it, but don't even notice my tattoo because my eyes catch Negan in the mirror staring at my ass. These panties don't leave much to the imagination and my cheeks redden at how much I'm exposed to him.
He suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes are darker than usual and filled with lust.
"Come here." He demands and I obey, walking towards him.
Once I'm standing in front of him, he lifts his hands to grab my hips. My belly button is eye level to him and I look down, watching him intensely. His thumbs dig into my hips and he looks at the tattoo.
"Do you like it?" I ask him.
He ignores me and it makes my heart break a little more. "Lay back down, y/n." He gets up to pull the curtain over the entrance of the room.
I do as he says and he comes back, placing a clear tape bandage over the fresh tattoo.
He looks as if he's deep in thought before suddenly sliding his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him. He pushes my leg aside and rests my other foot in his lap until my legs are completely spread apart in front of him.
"You want me to touch you, y/n? Is that what you want?"
"Yes.."
"Tell me what you want, baby."
"Your mouth."
He chuckles darkly and kisses the inside of my thigh before sliding his fingers under my panties and ripping them apart.
He shoves them in the back of his jean pocket and wraps his arms around my thighs, holding my stomach down with his hands and leaning his head down closer.
"Look at this pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me you're glistening."
His eyes look up at me right before he licks me and my head falls back with pleasure.
He stops suddenly. "Eyes on me, darlin'. How many times have you imagined me between your legs? You're going to watch me eat this pussy, y/n."
I nod, looking at him and he continues. The sound of other people talking in the distance makes my senses even more heightened.
He licks me again, pressing his tongue into me harder this time. He moans as he stops at my clit and gently sucks it into his mouth. I moan and watch him as he looks like he's eating the best meal he's ever had.
"You taste even better than I imagined, baby."
"You.. imagined it?"
"Baby. You aren't the only one who daydreams in class." He says before dipping his tongue deep inside me.
He switches back and forth between licking me and sucking me until my moans get louder and faster.
"Negan, I'm gonna.."
"I know baby, give it to me." He rubs me with his tongue faster until I'm coming apart. His hand quickly covers my mouth and I cry out into his hand.
"Fuck, doll." He groans and adjusts himself through his jeans. "This pussy is about to make me cum in my pants like I'm a fucking teenager again."
"Negan.." I say out of breath. "I wanna touch you. Please."
He stands and picks up my shorts, but not before I see the huge bulge in his pants. He helps me put my shorts on and I look at him confused when he doesn't say anything.
"Nega-"
"No, y/n."
My eyes water with tears as I stand to finish pulling my shorts up. "I - I don't understand."
"This can't happen, baby. I shouldn't have touched you."
I nod. "So that's it, Negan? You get what you want and that's it.. you're just.. done with me?"
"Are you fucking serious? You think I got what I wanted? I'm standing here with a hard-on that's gonna give me a giant case of blue balls. Any other man would throw you on this table and take you right here."
"Then why don't you?!"
"Because I fucking.. I care about you. You happy now? I fucking CARE ABOUT YOU, y/n. And I'm not going to break your heart."
I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek. "You already did." I grab my purse and rush out of the room, stopping in front of Ruby on the way out and pulling out some cash.
"I'm sorry hun." She says empathetically as if she heard everything that just happened.
I cry harder and lay the cash down before leaving and walking to my car. Before I can open my car door, Negan is grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him.
"Goddamn it, listen to me!"
I don't fight him, I just stare at him, noting the hurt in his eyes. My heart hurts and I suddenly feel guilty for making him feel any ounce of pain.
"Y/n.. look.."
"No." I cut him off. "Negan, I'm sorry. This is my fault.. I put you in this situation because I was selfish.. and delusional. I'm so sorry. I'll leave, and you won't have to hear from me or see me again."
He scoffs. "You think that's what I want? I guess you don't know me the way I thought you did."
Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and kisses me so hard and but so softly at the same time. His fingers slip through my hair and his hand rests on the back of my neck as he deepens our kiss.
"You're gonna be the death of me, kid."
I bite his lip hard when he calls me kid and our kiss goes from passionate to animalistic. He presses himself flat against me with my back against my car and I feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. His lips travel to my neck and he bites me hard, right before kissing and sucking the sensitive spot.
That's definitely going to leave a mark.
"You have no clue what you do to me, baby." He says in between kisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than usual. "Do you have any idea how many times I've left work and had to rub one out at the thought of you? Hell, sometimes even at work."
I look around the parking lot. It's nighttime but we're still clearly visible in the lights.
"Look at me, y/n. Forget where we are and just focus on me baby." His hand slips into my shorts and it takes him no time to find my soaked entrance since my panties are currently in his back pocket.
"Negan.." I breathe.
He smiles against my lips. "Baby.. You sure this is what you want? Because once I've had you, you're mine."
I nod and he puts his mouth next to my ear.
"Take your shorts off. Now." He pulls his hand from my shorts and sucks my juices off his fingers.
"But, Negan, we're-"
"I said, now y/n. You want me so bad, you're gonna get me wherever and however I say. Now, take your fucking shorts off before I rip them too."
I hesitantly slide my shorts off while looking around again. There aren't any other cars in the parking lot other than a couple of his employees. All the customers left. There's a main road up ahead but we're far enough away where they wouldn't see us unless they we're staring really hard.
"Good girl. Now take my cock out, baby."
He leans his hands against my car on either side of me, trapping me in. I waste no time reaching for the button on his jeans and unzipping him before pulling out his hard, huge cock. It's bigger than I imagined.. a lot bigger. I don't know how that thing is going to even fit in me. He's so hard that the veins in his cock look like they are about to erupt and his tip is already dripping with precum.
I can't help but run my thumb over the tip to collect some and bring it to my mouth to taste him. His eyes darken with lust at the sight of me sucking his precum off my finger.
"Taste good, doll?"
I nod and he chuckles. "There's a lot more where that came from."
He grips the back of my thigh with his hand and pulls my right leg around his waist.
The feeling of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy is enough to make my knees weak. Literally. I almost collapse at the sensation of him rubbing the head against my opening, teasing me. He presses his body closer to me in attempt to hold me up.
"Fuck, look at this dripping pussy." He looks down between us, admiring the view of his cock teasing my wet slit. "It's about to be dripping with my cum in a few minutes.. You ready for me, baby?"
"Yes, please. I need you."
He enters me completely in one swift motion, not giving me anytime to adjust. My walls are stretched further than they've ever been and it feels like the tip of him is buried up to my stomach.
He doesn't move for a moment, but instead looks into my eyes with his cock all the way inside of me. "There you go, baby. Finally getting what you wanted after all these years and taking my dick like a champ."
"Negan.." I moan. "Please.. just fuck me."
He pulls out of me almost completely before slowly pushing himself back in, agonizingly slow. Our bodies are flush against each other and he kisses me again.
"Fuck, baby." He growls. "You. Feel. So. Fucking GOOD." He says between thrusts as my mouth falls open.
I wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up and lean against him with my lips pressed against his neck. I take the opportunity to mark him back, grabbing his skin between my teeth and sucking hard. He moans so loud that I glance around to make sure no one heard him, but we're still alone.
His thrusts get harder and faster and the sounds coming from his sexy mouth are enough alone to make me cum.
"Look at me, y/n. I want to see your face when you cum all over my cock."
His hand that was on the car behind me slides between us, instantly finding my clit. He begins rubbing circles on it with his middle finger while thrusting his hips into me faster.
I look into his eyes while my arms are still wrapped around his shoulders tightly, keeping me in place. My fingers run through his dark hair and my breathing goes erratic as I feel myself come undone around him.
"You want me to fill you up, baby? You want daddy's cum?"
I nod quickly as tears run down my cheeks from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.
"FUCK, baby." He groans and slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back as he rides out his orgasm.
He pulls out of me slowly and softly kisses my lips one more time. I go to put my shorts on and he stops me.
"Not so fast, doll." He gets down on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs apart in front of him. "Push daddy's cum out baby. Let me see it drip out of you."
I do as he says and the feeling of his warm seed running down my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge again.
"Look. At. THAT." He swipes up some of his cum from my leg onto his finger and stands back up but not before gently kissing my new tattoo.
I think I love this man.
He rubs his finger along my lips until my mouth opens for him. I suck his fingers clean and moan at the taste of him.
"Y/n." He pushes my hair behind my ear and looks at me seriously. "I meant it when I said I care about you."
"You care about all your students."
"Yeah, but I don't go sticking my dick in them." He smirks and takes my hand, leading me back into the shop.
The others must have already left when - when.. oh.. shit.
"Negan, do you think they saw us?!"
"Well darlin', I was fucking your brains out right next to the door, so I think it's probably safe to assume so." He grins and my eyes widen with horror.
"Do you not care?"
"What can they do, doll? Fire me?" He laughs and leads me to the back where his office is.
"What are we doing in here?"
"Getting matching tattoos, of course."
I stare at him, trying to register what he just said. "You're.. going to give yourself a tattoo?"
He chuckles and hands me a tattoo gun before taking off his shirt and sitting on the couch in the corner.
"No, doll, you are."
The Enddd.
Part 2 or nah?
#jdm x reader#jdmfanfiction#jdmorgan#jeffrey dean morgan#negan#dead city#jeffrey dean morgan x reader#negan fanfiction#negan oneshot#negan imagine#daddy negan#jdm x you#jeffrey dean morgan x you#jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction#jdm fanfiction#negan au#negan x you#the walking dead#teacher negan#professor negan#coach negan
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It's Personal
Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.
Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for.
Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.
"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.
"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.
"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.
Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.
Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.
The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.
"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.
With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.
"How was class?" He asks.
"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.
"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.
"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."
"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.
"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"
Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.
"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?
"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.
"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.
"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.
"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.
The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.
"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."
"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.
"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.
"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.
"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.
"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.
"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.
"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.
"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.
"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.
"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.
The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.
"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.
"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.
"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.
"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.
"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."
"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.
Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.
"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.
"Yeah, what about her?"
"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.
"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.
"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.
You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.
Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.
"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.
"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.
"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.
"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.
"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.
"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.
"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"
"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.
"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"
"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.
"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.
"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.
"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.
"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.
"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.
"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"
"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.
"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.
"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.
"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.
Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.
Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.
Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.
You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.
"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.
"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.
"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.
"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.
"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.
"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.
"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.
"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.
"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.
"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.
"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.
"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.
"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.
"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.
"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"
"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.
"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.
"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.
"It doesn't matter-"
"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.
"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.
"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.
"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.
"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.
"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.
Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.
You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.
Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.
Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.
"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"
"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.
First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.
"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.
"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.
"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.
"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.
"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.
"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.
"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"
"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."
"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.
"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."
Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.
When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.
"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.
Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.
He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.
"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.
"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.
"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.
"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.
"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."
"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.
"No, you're coming with me."
"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.
"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.
"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.
"What?"
"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.
"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.
"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.
"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.
"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.
"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.
"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.
"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.
"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.
"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."
"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.
"What?"
"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."
"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?
"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.
"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.
In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?
Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.
The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.
"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.
"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.
"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.
He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.
"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.
"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.
"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.
"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.
"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.
"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."
"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.
"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.
"I am."
"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"
"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.
"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.
He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.
"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.
"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.
"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.
"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.
"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.
"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.
Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.
Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.
You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.
"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.
"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.
"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.
"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.
"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.
"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.
(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)
#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargove#billy hargrove angst#who did this to you#angst#stranger things#revenge#who did this to you trope#billy is mean#but also not#billy hargrove x reader#tw violence#tw domestic violence#tw dv#graphic violence#billy hargrove x y/n#stranger things angst
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AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER FOUR
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a/n: i'm sorry for the delay! my grandpa (who's like my dad) is in the hospital and it's been a rough month, especially with finding the motivation to write. hope you like the chapter & thanks for being patient with me ₊˚⊹ ᰔ
Coriolanus awoke with a pulsing headache and little recollection of what had occurred the night before and how he had returned to his room, still in the clothes he had worn the night before. The scent of white liquor remained on Coriolanus’s skin, and his mouth tasted sour from being sick. He cringed at the memory of last night when he had shown up drunk in front of the Plinth’s family doorstep. Coriolanus had all intentions of returning to his penthouse suite, yet when it was time to leave Pluribus’s nightclub, he dialled the Plinth residence in hopes of hearing your voice. His body had a mind of its own, guiding his feet back to you of all people. Strabo Plinth’s daughter haunted his mind amid all his thoughts.
Coriolanus had vowed he would not be entrapped by something as fickle as love. Gone was the foolish boy whose heart could be serenaded and swayed by a girl like Lucy Gray—the ghost of District 12 who sings with Mockingjays.
At first glance, Strabo Plinth’s daughter appeared to be the ideal candidate to become his wife. She was beautiful in a way the other Capitol girls weren’t. Although she’s well-mannered, there’s a hint of defiance within her that Coriolanus wants to tame, and most importantly, she is District. Despite your redeeming qualities, Coriolanus had no intentions of falling in love with you. But lust? That he would allow. Coriolanus knew he would be deluding himself if he didn’t admit that he was intrigued and partially awe-struck when he first met you.
You were seven and a force to be reckoned with. Most had assumed that Sejanus was the younger sibling because he crouched behind his sister and parents. Coriolanus had never met anyone his age from the Districts. Everything that he learned of them was from his family and the Capitol. He had heard that the people were vile and undignified.
District were merely scum that belonged underneath his shoe. You were the first person who had made him question if those statements were factual. At the academy, you introduced yourself to your classmates with confidence and poise that he thought uncommon of someone his age, especially from a lower class individual. She didn’t blink twice when no one embraced her and seemed content with having her brother, Sejanus, by her side. Romulus was the only person who could squeeze between the pair.
Years had passed, and as Strabo Plinth had begun solidifying his place within the Capitol’s society, so had his children. Although impulsive and reckless, Sejanus had become Professor Agrippina Sickle’s protégé. He earned himself a spot in the Hunger Games as a mentor to the impudent Marcus. It irritated Coriolanus beyond belief that Highbottom favoured Sejanus and his sister over him. Good riddance.
His daughter excelled academically and in all challenges thrown at her. She had blossomed into a head turner, catching the eye of many suitors she paid no attention to. Many of the boys in his grade whispered and gossiped about how it would feel to be with a girl from the Districts, nonetheless one who could assimilate and possibly surpass Capitol expectations of those who have been low-bred. And they had tried, all failed miserably. Romulus and Sejanus acted as your guard dogs, never allowing outsiders too close. And now, Romulus was trying to do the same again. Coriolanus would not allow it.
Even though he was able to win over Sejanus, Romulus is a different breed that would only learn from sheer force.
The plan was simple. Coriolanus called for a favour from two of his dumb brute classmates to teach Romulus a lesson. He instructed Henric and Reuben to rough him up a little, making it apparent what would come to those who tried to intervene with him. Coriolanus promised the two that he would review their 11th Hunger Games proposals. Henric and Reuben are at the bottom of the class and are Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s least favourite students. She had made it painfully evident that she couldn’t stand them. Coriolanus threatened the duo that he would snitch to Dr. Gaul that they had assistance with their proposal, and he knew very well Volumnia despised liars. It was a form of insurance. No one would find out who was indeed behind the attack. It’s not like the Dolittle family has disposable income to bribe anyone, especially after “downsizing” and moving out of the penthouse building. The Plinth family now lived in their old residence.
Reuben assured Coriolanus that he would notify him once the deed was done. It was easy to pinpoint Romulus’s schedule and routine since he shared the same classes as his fiancee and was Remus’s little brother. Coriolanus knew Remus quite well and had figured out where the Dolittle’s now lived. The thought reminded Coriolanus of the conversation he shared with Sejanus’s sister.
Coriolanus had no one close to him. She stated that it’s hard to know and trust the version of him presented to her. Coriolanus thought he had friends. But upon further reflection, they were rather accomplices and acquaintances. Her observation was correct. It left him wondering what else Sejanus shared with her in those god-forsaken letters. Did he write of his character? Had Sejanus ever suspected his actions of betrayal? Or worse, did he tell his younger sister about the true nature of his relationship with Lucy Gray? It would be strenuous to win her over if she knew that information. Not that it mattered. She would still have to marry him, Coriolanus thought. But it still nagged at him. As Tigris once said, she would do nothing for Coryo if she didn’t trust or believe he cared. The advice had worked with Lucy Gray; why would it be any different this time?
𓇢𓆸
Cold water ran down his body, washing away the night. Coriolanus’s mind wandered to his cousin, Tigris. The empty spot remained from when she had the maintenance man drill holes in the tesserae from the bathroom. Tigris may hate him now, but she will know whenever she buys new fabric and can design a fresh piece. It was because of Coriolanus and his detriments. He was no longer her precious and naive Coryo. Lucy Gray had made sure of that. No other District girl would make him feel foolish again. He knew better. Lucy Gray was glitter and gold, a shiny new toy that caught his attention. She was fascinating and a true performer who could capture her audience. Coriolanus hadn’t realized he was another audience member until the hanging tree.
Grandma’am’s voice echoed throughout the penthouse, singing the national anthem of Panem. Her shaky, shrill voice made his ears ring and head throb. He needed to stop drinking. Coriolanus doesn’t even know why he decided to go to the gin joint; he is just so angry. He could confide in no one about Lucy Gray and the truth behind her disappearance and their relationship. Although Coriolanus has improved, he won’t make the same misstep that he did with Lucy Gray. He would lie better. She was the one exception.
His most intimate firsts would all be shared with those from the Districts. Coriolanus’s first kill was Bobbin from District 8, his first kiss was Lucy Gray from District 12, and now the girl he would marry and bed would be from District 2, the Plinth’s daughter. The thought made his stomach turn. How many associations does one need with the Districts before they're seen as one themselves?
Grandma’am continued to bellow the Capitol anthem at the dining table while the cooks placed food on the placemats. His head still throbbed, and Coriolanus had half the mind to tell her to shut up. He couldn’t blame her. Grandma’am clung to a reality that provided her comfort, her life before the Dark Days. Coriolanus couldn’t imagine how the Capitol must’ve been prehistoric to the war, and the Dark Days remained in his mind. The bombing from the District 13 rebels still shook him to his core.
“Are you going to eat that?” Tigris questioned. The scrambled eggs and bacon lay on his plate untouched. Her face was inquisitive. It was a refreshing break from the usual deadpan expression that she gave him at every glance. He sometimes wondered if Tigris would ever grow tired of her childish grudge against his Father and him. After all, she was the one reaping the benefits from their sacrifices. She should be grateful.
“I’ll just have the bread for now, thank you,” he mumbled.
Coriolanus was unsure if he could stomach anything else. He didn’t think this through. How would he impress and gain the trust of Strabo’s daughter in this condition?” The only currency he had to get him past her walls was his charm and his wits. She isn’t the type of girl who is quickly swept off her feet. He would ask Tigiris, but Coriolanus doubted that she would agree to help him, considering she made her distaste evident when he had announced his engagement deal with Strabo Plinth.
Tigris went on a tangent. She had spoken fast and brash towards Coriolanus, ranting that a woman wasn’t to be owned or bought but cherished for who she is and not her assets or the pleasure she can provide to her male counterparts. Tigris implores that he doesn't seal the Plinth's daughter's fate for Snow's dynasty uprisal. She claimed we could survive without the Plinth's assistance, but Coriolanus knew better. They wouldn't make it through the year if they had to pay the rent fee and his monthly tuition, not off of the pennies she earned from Fabricia Whatnot and her storefront. Coriolanus was above asking Tigris to charge men for favours in the night. However, it did briefly cross his mind. Upon first impressions, Coriolanus had thought Tigris was trying to debate him on his morals. It was more profound than that. Tigris was reminded of the possibility that the Plinth's daughter could have been her if Coriolanus found a respectable suitor willing to pay a hefty sum for the chance to take the name of a Snow. Isn't that what Strabo Plinth had done? He traded his daughter for the power that comes with Coriolanus's last name. Stabo's daughter was now his.
Brunch was short-lived. Coriolanus needed time to gather and prepare for his date with his fiance. Although he had strategized and managed to survive the games alongside Lucy Gray, he needed to figure out how to romance and court a girl. It never crossed his mind.
Coriolanus knocked on the Plinth's residence door with a bouquet of Grandma'am's finest roses. He wanted to make an excellent first impression on their date. When Strabo Plinth’s daughter came to the door, Coriolanus wasn't surprised to see her looking as radiant as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a slick and neat ponytail, her enticing features on display. Whenever she tied her hair up, sinful thoughts plagued his mind. Coriolanus had to fight the urge to take hold of the flowing strands and pull her closer. He was tempted to laugh at the audacity of performing such an action but chose against it and handed the bouquet to her.
“These are for you,” he grinned.
She gracefully accepted them, returning his smile with her own. But her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet fragrance when she brought the flowers closer to her face as if the smell unnerved her.
"You don't like roses?" It was a question, but it was apparent that Plinth's daughter was not entirely pleased as she initially led him to believe when she took the bouquet.
"You had never asked."
Coriolanus narrowed his eyes at her. It was true. He hadn't bothered to get to know the girl that he was to be married to. Call him naive, but he assumed it wasn't necessary, as the wedding was just another transaction along the road to his presidency. A minor misstep, he would make up for it later.
𓇢𓆸
The vehicle pulled up to the Citadel, and Noll escorted them out of the car. The cold, brisk winter air knicked his face as he grasped his trench coat closer to his body and clenched the picnic basket in his hand, seeking comfort and stability to calm his nerves.
"Coriolanus, if your idea of taking me out on a date is bringing me back to school, I promise you won't get far with me." Her tone was deadpanned as she stared at him with an unimpressed expression. He couldn't help but chuckle. Coriolanus was not only bringing Strabo Plinth's daughter to the Citadel. Dr. Volumnia Gaul had designed a prototype environment for the next Hunger Games. A large gilded cage-like room that encapsulates lush green plants of all kinds, bright, breathtaking butterflies that are poisonous to the touch, and tropical Jabberjays that flew overhead. It is a cornucopian change of environment from the Capitol of Panem. A small escape that only Coriolanus could provide her. "Trust me, just for today. Take a leap of faith that I'm not as bad as you believe I am," Coriolanus pleaded. He brought his hands together and put them under his chin with the basket to give her his best sad puppy dog expression. He felt like an idiot doing so until she let out a whimsical laugh at his expense and shook her head.
They walked through the Citadel, and she followed behind Coriolanus, silently taking everything in as they approached Dr. Volumnia Gaul's sector. He remembered the first time he had visited the lab personally to deliver his paper assignment to Dr. Gaul. His stomach turned at the memory of Clemensia and the attack of the rainbow snake mutts. Doubt settled in Coriolanus's mind. Was this a bright idea? Would she appreciate the lengths he has gone for this to happen? Dr. Gaul only allowed authorized scientists and doctors like herself in the lab without supervision. It took a lot to regain her trust after the stunt he had pulled with Lucy Gray and his handkerchief. But she softened slightly when he told Dr. Gaul why he wanted to access the gilded cage exhibit. Coriolanus had a sneaky suspicion that Dr. Volumnia Gaul wished to recruit Strabo Plinth's daughter as an apprentice in the future. It would be the perfect demonstration to the districts that their own could turn on them and align with the Capitol. That's what he would do.
Coriolanus ushered Ms. Plinth to the changerooms and placed the picnic basket carefully into his locker. "Here, change into these." Coriolanus handed her white cotton coveralls, gloves, and matching beekeeper hat with disposable shoe covers; these were required to enter the exhibition. She eyed them carefully, "Why do I have to change?" Coriolanus felt unsure if he should ruin the surprise. She looked at the clothing with great suspicion. You'd think that he was handing her a wild animal. They wouldn't make any progress if she were going to doubt every step of the way.
He let out an exasperated sigh, "You're going to want to wear them for where we're going." Coriolanus knew that if he mentioned the butterflies, she would surely leave him right then and there.
"And why-"
"Please," Coriolanus cut her off before she could question him again. He must've looked as desperate as he felt because she offered him a tight smile and huffed, "Fine, but turn around when I change."
She snatched the coveralls from Coriolanus and found a locker across from his to place her belongings and coat inside. He watched with her back facing him as she struggled to unzip her dress. "Here, let me help you," Coriolanus got a hold of her zipper and slowly dragged it down to reveal more of her skin. His fingers grazed her mid-back. The feeling was electrifying and invigorated an excitement within him that he hadn't felt since District 12.
"I told you to turn around!" Plinth's daughter playfully shoved him back. Coriolanus chuckled more to himself. What was that? he thought. The goal is to make her fall for him, not vice versa. He needed to focus.
They returned to their respective sides of the changeroom to put on their assigned uniforms. She stifled her giggle when they faced one another as Coriolanus adjusted the beekeeper's hat on his head.
"You look ridiculous," she snorted.
"You're not a sight for sore eyes either," he retorted.
Strabo Plinth's daughter was swimming in the fabric of the coveralls, and the hat made her head appear bigger than it was, yet she still captured his eye.
“Follow me and stay close,” he cleared his throat and turned for the exit to return to the Capitol’s War Department. The endless white hallways made it easy to get lost, but Coriolanus had spent almost every day with Dr. Gaul as her apprentice and practically memorized all the ins and outs. The guards must’ve been informed of their visit. They eyed them curiously but did not utter a word.
Finally, Coriolanus arrived in front of door 50. “You ready?” He faced her, trying to read her facial expression, but seeing past the thick mesh was hard.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped.
He fished for the key card in his pocket and opened the door to reveal the hidden tropical rainforest. From the outside, you wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing existed inside the Citadel. Hues of vibrant dark green leaves and foliage surrounded the two of them.
“Wow,” she gasped.
“I’ll take it that you like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” She walked past him to take it all in. District 2 is one of the districts closest to the Capitol, mostly made of rocky mountains and stone quarries. It was a shared first for both of them. He’s only seen such forestry in textbooks about the green forests that thrived during the pre-dark days. Coriolanus made a calculated guess that she had also never seen anything like it. The butterflies flew freely around them in an array of colours and shades. "Wow," she repeated the word quietly with each step she took further into the gilded cage. She brushed her gloved hands across the leaves in awe, taking it all in.
"Coriolanus, this is beautiful."
One of the butterflies landed on her forearm, another, and another. It was like she was a walking magnet. Strabo Plinth's daughter froze in place, mimicking a statue. "Oh... my... God," she whispered.
"No sudden movements. They're poisonous, after all," Coriolanus replied calmly.
Her body jerked at the word poisonous, knocking the creatures off her in one motion. "Gentle! They won't cause you any harm," he exclaimed. The last thing he needed was Dr. Volumnia Gaul penalizing him over dead butterflies.
"You're such a jerk!" She punched his shoulder hard. That's going to leave a bruise in the morning. "You're horrible at this," she muttered.
"At what?" Coriolanus obliviously asked.
"Dating."
"Go easy on me. This is my first time." It bruised Coriolanus's ego to admit it. "You're lying," the surprise was obvious in her tone. She was facing him now, just a mere step away from them being chest to chest. The butterflies continued to fly overhead, but Plinth's daughter didn't seem to care anymore.
"Why would I lie?" He countered.
"You're the Capitol's golden boy! Of course, it's safe to assume you know your way around." She said dryly.
"I know I have quite the reputation, but I haven't had much time to think about who I would've brought to the Cornucopia Ball." Coriolanus wasn't unaware of the whispers from his peers about who he might ask to be his date. Sejanus had even pressed him about it a couple of times. The ball occurs each year a couple of weeks before graduation. Considering that Coriolanus had been banished to District 12, he never got the chance to attend.
"What about Lucy Gray? You say that you and she were never a couple?"
Coriolanus's body stiffened. Hearing her name come out of Sejanus's sister's mouth unsettled him to his core. It was a question, no, a test. She was baiting him. But how would she know anything? Silence stretched in between them.
"Sejanus was quite the gossip." She continued. Yes, he was. It was one of the reasons why he was killed. Sejanus never knew when to shut his mouth and turn a blind eye. It was against his whole being. Even in death, Sejanus's voice will haunt him.
"I had feelings for Lucy Gray, but she didn't feel the same in the end. I was just another part of the games to her."
"That's not what-"
"Sejanus is a idealistic romantic." He cut her off abruptly. "Maybe in another lifetime, things could be different." Coriolanus side-stepped Sejanus's sister to walk further into the gilded room. The air had begun to feel too thick, too hard to breathe. This was not a part of the plan. She was ruining it, just like her brother. Coriolanus needed to gain control and shift the conversation. Yet his mind wouldn't cooperate, his brain filled with nonsensical thoughts. He could hear her footsteps follow after him, but he chose to focus on the three butterflies that landed on his hand—taking slow, deep breaths with each flap of its wings.
"I'm sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you."
“It doesn’t matter anymore; she’s lost in the trees.” It wasn't a complete lie, and he wouldn’t explain further. It was up to her interpretation at this point. Lucy Gray could've been dead for all he cared, and it would be for the better. Coriolanus closed his eyes to refocus and center himself. His last two loves would lay to rest in District 12. They couldn’t reach him now.
The butterflies flew away when he let out his last exhale. In the blink of an eye, it was idle and empty when he looked back at his outstretched hand.
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Happy 12th anniversary! 🎉
// I can’t believe so many years have passed since Ayato’s first CD drama, which marked the beginning of Diabolik Lovers and the introduction of my girl, Yui. Even if it got its flaws, I will continue to support this franchise! 💘
I have prepared an edit and a scenario for this special day! It's meant to be a "funny" one, so there will definitely be some cringe moments, but overall it's quite lighthearted. I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable! Besides, I had a blast writing Laito; he always channels my inner mischievousness.
Yui: Hmm… I believe I have all ingredients now!
( Come to think of it, the Sakamaki brothers are vampires but they surprisingly allowed me to celebrate Christmas this year. )
( It’s honestly so ironic that it makes me wonder whether or not they actually did it for… me? )
( A-Ah no, that’s definitely not the case! I’m probably just getting selfish at this point, but I genuinely do appreciate it. For this reason, I’ll try my best to cook all of their favorite dishes so as to show my gratitude! )
( Christmas is such a magical time of the year. It brings back memories of my father and I organizing the annual Christmas Mass together. We used to decorate the church and bake sweets for children, who were so cute when receiving them! Those were activities that truly brought joy to my heart… I sort of miss those times. )
( My father… I wonder, is he preparing for Christmas too? No, he most likely isn’t… )
( I don’t even know where he is to begin with but I truly hope he’s alright… )
( Anyway, I shouldn’t ruin the mood with those thoughts. Now that I've got everything ready for the dishes, I just need to find the right spot to hide Ayato-kun’s pre— )
Ayato: Yo, Chichinashi!
Yui: G-Geez! Ayato-kun, I told you already not to sneak up behind my back!
Ayato: Haa… Fine, fine, I’m sorry.
Yui: It’s— Eh?
( Wait a little, did he just apologize? )
Ayato: Why are you making such a dumb face? You don’t believe my words, do you?
Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s just that I wasn’t expecting Ayato-kun to apologize for something so trivial, you see.
Ayato: Hmm, I guess you’re not wrong. But, since Christmas is coming soon, it’d be a pity for Santa Claus to write me on the naughty list after trying to avoid it the whole year.
Yui: Naughty list…?
( Is it just me, or does Ayato-kun really believe Santa Claus will give him a present? I mean… Santa is told to only deliver them to children, and I'm not sure a 17-year-old still qualifies as one. )
( But I can’t straight up tell him that! It will only ruin the magic otherwise… Besides, when that thought crosses my mind, it somehow makes him appear so pure. )
Ayato: Hah? What are you grinning at? I swear, I've made an effort to be a good boy this year!
Yui: That’s really… amazing, Ayato-kun! I’m sure Santa will remember that!
Ayato: Heh? So you really think he’ll bring me something?
Yui: Uhm… Definitely!
( His eyes started sparking, I really can’t say “no” to that…! However, that only means I'll have to get him another gift so that he can have one from "Santa" and another one from me. )
B-By the way, I think I forgot to buy gingerbread syrup. I suppose I should leave before ——
Ayato: No, no, I’ll go!
Yui: You will? Ah, but you don’t have to! I was the one who forgo—…!
( He’s covering my mouth! )
Ayato: Stop blabbering already! Ore-sama offered to buy it for you, so you could try being a bit more grateful!
Yui: That’s… you’re right.
( Maybe it’s for the better. This way, I'll be able to find a hiding place for the present I already have for him. )
Ayato: I’ll be right back!
—Timeskip—
Ayato: Tsk, I can’t believe that shit was out of stock!
Chichinashi will surely be disappointed, if I come home with nothing! After all, she takes all that Christmas stuff seriously…
What's worse is that I tried really hard to find it, but it was already sold out by the time I arrived!
Tsk, damn it! Why must this be so complicated!?
Laito: Well, well. Seems like Ayato-kun is quite moody today.
Ayato: Get lost you pervert, it’s none of your business!
Laito: Haa… how rude of you, Ayato-kun. And there I was actually intending to give you this, but I guess you don’t need it anymore.
Bye bye~!
Ayato: Wait… What’s that thing in your hand?
Laito: What you ask? Nfu, it’s gingerbread syrup, of course. I was able to get the last one today.
Ayato: Wha—! Oi, you better give it to me or else—
Laito: Or else what~?
Ayato: I’ll—… Nevermind.
Look, you know I’m not into cheesy stuff but Chichinashi really loves Christmas, okay? Getting that gingerbread syrup might make her happy ‘cause maybe it’d remind her of how she celebrated it with her pops. That’s why… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… give it to me, please!
Laito: Woah, it’s honesty hour, hm?
Well, whatever, I don’t really care about that gingerbread syrup anyway, so you can take it if you want to.
Ayato: Really? Gr—
Laito: You didn’t let me finish though. I will only give it to you, if you promise me something.
Ayato: Hah? What the hell is it this time!?
Laito: No need to get so worked up~. All you have to do is to ensure that Bitch-chan consumes at least one glass of syrup at the time you bring it to her.
Ayato: That’s it? Pfft, easiest task ever!
Wait… almost a bit too easy.
Oi you perv, you better not plan something behind Ore-sama’s back, understood?
Laito: Normally I would, but Christmas is just around the corner, right? Who would risk being added to the naughty list at the last minute, right?
— hands Ayato the gingerbread syrup—
Place: Living room
Ayato: Yui! Yui! I’m back and look what I found!!
Yui: Good job, Ayato-kun! Thank you so much for helping me!
Ayato: Now take a seat!
— forces her to sit down —
Yui: Eh? What’s happening?
Ayato: Nothing to worry about, just drink this!
— shoves glass of syrup down her throat —
Yui: Mmh…!!
(What on earth!? I can’t breathe—!)
— Yui swallows it —
Ayato: So~, how is it?
— Yui starts coughing —
Yui: It’s… it’s not as sweet as I remembered. This one is quite bitter.
Ayato: Bitter? Don’t spout nonsense, gingerbread can’t be bitter!
Yui: Yeah… thought so too… but..
(My head started spinning around…)
Ayato: Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?
Yui: Uuh… Sorry, Ayato-kun, I’m suddenly feeling so dizzy…
Ayato: How—?
( The heck’s wrong with her? Is it ‘cause she swallowed that too fast or…? )
Yui: Ayato-kun…
Ayato: What’s it?
Yui: Has anyone ever told you before that you are… extremely cute?
Ayato: Hah!? I mean, yeah, but what’s up with the random confession?
Yui: Eh? Am I not allowed to compliment the most adorable boy in the whole wide world…?
Ayato: Huh—?
Yui: You see, when I look at you like that… you might not be very clear, yet I can’t help but want to protect you…
Ayato: Protect me? D-Don’t say shit like that, it should be the other way around! After all, Ore-sama is the stron—!
(She pinned me down!?)
Yui: Fufu, you’re just so funny when you praise yourself like that…!
Everything about you is so beautiful… your hard yet nicely textured hair, your jade green eyes, your long eyelashes, your ——
Ayato: Tsk, get off me!
— pushes her away —
— Yui falls down —
Yui: Ngh…!
Ayato: …!
Oi! I… I didn’t mean to! Wait, gimme your hand!
— Yui takes his hand and looks up —
Ayato: (Don’t tell me… did that push bring her back to normal? Heh, if that’s so then—)
Yui: Mistletoe…
— puts her hands on his cheeks —
Yui: Holding your face like this makes me realize how soft your cheeks are… They are so round that I wish I could give you more and more Takoyaki until they become even chubbier…!
Ayato: S-Say what—!?
( It’s not like I dislike cheeky women but she’s nuts! )
— Yui gets closer to his lips —
Ayato: …!
*Smooch*
Laito: Fufu, hahaha, look at your face!
Ayato: Oi, Laito! Don’t just stand there staring, help me!
*Smooch*
Laito: Now why would I? After all, I already did you a favor by giving you the gingerbread liquor~!
Ayato: But you— Did you just say gingerbread LIQUOR!?
*Smooch*
Laito: Ex-act-ly! I was simply curious to see what kind of ‘drunk’ Bitch-chan is, and it seems like she’s the honest and horny type.
— takes picture —
Ayato: O-Oi! Don’t you dare to send it to anyone, delete it right now!
Laito: Oh my, look at the time! Now excuse me but I have to take my leave~.
Ayato: You can’t! Save me first!
Laito: Sorry Ayato-kun, no matter how delicious it feels watching you on top of each other while making out in plain sight, I've got better things to do, so... nfu, enjoy while it lasts!
— winks and disappears —
Ayato: You… You bastard! You will pay for this, I swear you wi— Mmh… Mm!
( Now how will I get myself out of THIS situation!? )
( Ugh, that’s what happens when you try helping others. I should have learnt my lesson a long time ago! )
— Yui stops kissing —
Yui: Will Ayato-kun… suck my blood?
Ayato: …!
( Heh, suddenly this doesn’t seem half bad anymore. I might actually grow to like being desired like that~. )
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Hii!! I was wondering if you could do a fic of dean with a coquette reader? Like a super femme reader who is obsessed with bows pink stuff ect? Ps I really like your tt🫶🏻
Pages of Affection
♡~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♥︎~♡
Summary: You and Dean go to the library to investigate a case. While searching through some old papers and clippings, you discover a series of old love letters. Dean thinks they're stupid - you think they are romantic. In an attempt to make you feel special, he writes you a love letter.
W.C: 1288
A/N: ahhhh my first req! ty! Sorry this took so long for me to write. I've been very busy with school and work.
Book after book, page after page, and still nothing. Nothing that would help you with this case or future cases - and Dean's grumbling and complaining was getting annoying. You adjusted the bow that was pinning your hair back away from your face - sometimes it got all slanted and looked weird. And you'd rather not have Dean tease you about it again.
"We should have just made Sammy do the research." Dean started. You rolled your eyes and let out a deep, heavy sigh. "I can't focus when you're whining."
"I'm not whining -"
"You are!" You interrupted, shooting him a mean glare. Dean went silent, and you decided to enjoy it while it lasted. You flipped open an older and more worn heavy book, the edges were frayed, and there were tons of scratches on the cover. Two flimsy pieces of paper fell out, landing in your lap. They looked to be old, too, with how dirty the paper was and how it smelt amazing.
You purse your lips together and carefully pick it up, rubbing the material between your fingers. It felt more like parchment rather than modern-day printer paper. "What's that?" Dean asked, trying to peek at the papers. You shook your head and shrugged, you weren't sure what it was until you unfolded it. Messy scrawl and an easily read "My love," addressed at the top. You slowly smiled as you read through the love letter, it was so sweet… so romantic.
My love,
You've been on my mind for quite some time now, and it's getting harder each day to forget about you. I have known you for close to six years now. And as time passes, I fall deeper in love with you. Sometimes, it's tough for me to express myself. Whenever I talk to you, I get flustered. Whenever I talk to somebody else about you, I get tongue-tied. You make my heart jump every time I see you. It's crazy that you are oblivious to your effect on me. But that is a part of your charm. The moment I laid my eyes upon you, I knew that my heart would forever be yours. Your beauty, both inside and out, is unmatched and your kind and loving spirit only adds to my admiration for you.
You are my heart, my soul, my everything. I cannot imagine a life without you, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I love you now and forever.
Forever yours,
George
"Oh… Dean, look." You said, passing him the letter as you went to read the second one. This might be the sweetest thing you've ever read, this George guy sure had a way with words. Dean watched with raised brows as you scanned the second letter, a soft happy smile on your face. Who knew someone else's love life could make you so happy? He swallowed hard and started to read what you handed him. It was… cheesy to say the least. It sort of made him cringe, to be honest. "You like this stuff?" He snorted.
You frowned. "It's romantic."
"It's cheesy, is what it is."
"He loved whoever he sent this to very much, who cares if it's cheesy?" You asked. Dean cocked a brow and looked you up and down, from your floral dress to your mary-janes. Something you'd only ever wear if it was a "chill day", when you were out in the action, you'd opt for jeans and boots. "You like this stuff?" He asked. You nodded and your eyes briefly met his. "It's sweet."
His lips thinned slightly, "Huh."
And here he was, hours after you and Sam had both gone to bed, trying to write you a love letter. Dean tried to go with a rhyming scheme for a while - until he tried to rhyme your name with something that wasn't completely stupid and couldn't think of anything and scrapped that idea.
He thought about just copying the love letter you found - or something from online but that would be stupid. You could tell, and it wouldn't show he tried to put any effort in at all. Dean glanced over at your curled-up sleeping form, wearing a cute pink vintage nightgown that you nearly flipped your lid over when you saw it in the thrift store. You did love all of that… girly stuff. It was very endearing.
Then, he suddenly got some inspiration. Dean picked up his pen again, scribbling some things down on the paper. He knew what he wanted to write - but he didn't know how to word it. Dean appreciated you too much for it to be half-assed - or something that could be taken the wrong way with how it was worded.
And soon, the words just started to flow.
The next morning, Dean took you out for a coffee and some pastries at the local shop. The letter he wrote for you was snug in his coat pocket - waiting for your eyes and only your eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped one of his clammy palms on the expanse of his jeans as he sat down on the bench next to you. You briefly looked over at him, taking a tiny sip from the herbal tea he had gotten for you. “So, what’s the occasion?” You asked. Dean’s brows furrowed and he chuckled nervously, he swore that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “What? No occasion…”
Your eyes narrowed, “Dean.”
“Okay! Okay, I… I have something for you - but don’t laugh, okay?” He swallowed hard and started to dig through his pocket. Your face immediately softened and you turned to face him, whatever it was - it was important to him.
Then, he pulled out a folded piece of paper with your name addressed on the front of it. “I tried real hard, okay? So… don’t laugh.” Dean warned - but with the slight waver in his voice, you could tell that he was very nervous. You took the delicate piece of paper from him and carefully unfolded it. The first line was enough to make your heart swell and for butterflies to form in your stomach.
Hey,
I don’t really know what to write… you know I’m not the mushy-gushy kinda guy, but I wanna try for you. I wanna start this off by saying I think you’re the prettiest woman out there, no doubt in my mind (and the bows you like to wear in your hair are damn cute.) You’re my whole goddamn world… you know, I purposefully try to make you laugh all the time too because it honestly sounds better than any Zeppelin song (don’t tell anyone I said that.) All it needs is a good guitar solo… kidding. Anyway, you’re my sweet girl who adores all that cute girly and flowery stuff, hell, I even let ya put that old heart key chain on my keys for Baby - nobody gets to fuck with Baby, except for you. I love you, more than words can say. I know I don’t tell you a lot, but I do.
I love you.
Your bottom lip jutted out and you clutched the piece of paper to your chest, “Dean…” He surveyed your reaction carefully with wide eyes, did you like it? Did you hate it? Finally, you practically threw yourself into his arms and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “This is the sweetest thing ever.” You beamed. Dean let out a relieved chuckle and tightly wrapped his arms around your waist, he (not so) discreetly inhaled the scent of your hair, smiling faintly when the light fragrance of flowers hit him. “Glad ya like it, sweetheart.”
#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female!reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#spnfandom
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Butterfly's Repose
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Two fics in such a short span of time?! Yeah, I'm procrastinating. I actually wasn't going to finish this little thing I started in my notes today, but then I got an idea for how to continue it and HAD to get it out. So here it is
Title comes from "Butterfly's Repose" by Zabawa
Warnings: nightmares, crying, references to past abuse, low self-worth, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 804
Main Masterlist
First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
Arms squeeze tighter around your middle. You don't notice at first - you've just woken up and your brain hasn't caught up yet, and having arms around you like this is not unfamiliar or strange. In fact, you know right away that it's Astarion. You'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, wrapped around each other with intertwining legs and faces pressed into necks and shoulders.
He shifts so his head rests squarely over your chest, and again you think nothing of it. You relax back into the bed, into your pillow and the warm sheets. Sleep starts to claim you again, grabbing you with syrupy tendrils that make it hard to think.
But then you feel something wet against your skin. Wet and hot, and he's trembling. You force your eyes open, fighting against the desire to sleep. You can't see his face in the dark, but you know. You know he's crying.
You slowly begin to slide your fingers through his curls, careful not to startle him or pull at any knots. "Star?" you murmur into the dark. "What's wrong? What happened?"
A choked sob rips from his throat. There’s no point hiding his tears now. He tries to speak, but he can’t come up with anything. All he can do is shake his head and press further against you.
You wrap your arm around his shoulder to hold him close and fully begin to play with his hair in all the ways you know he enjoys. You shush him gently, kissing the top of his head. “You’re safe, love. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you here.” Another harsh sob wracks his body, and you begin rubbing up and down his back. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
It must have been a nightmare or a memory - nothing else could upset him this much, and he flipped between trances and normal sleep so often it was hard to know which he’d endured. You would kill Cazador over and over again if it meant removing Astarion’s suffering. You’d kill the bastard 200 times - once for each year of life he ruined for your lover. And a million more for every other life he ruined.
His fingers curl into the fabric at your back, holding on as though letting go would cause him to fall off a deep precipice. But you wouldn’t let that happen. Not for as long as you live - and further if you had any say in the matter.
Sleep does not come to visit again. You’re too worried for the man in your arms to care. By the time his crying has softened to whimpers and sniffles, you can see the orange of the sun trying to break through the dark curtains. And still you don’t care.
When the whimpers reduce further to mere shaky breaths, you know it has finally passed. You kiss his head again, whispering into the white hairs that tickle your face just how proud you are of him, how much you love him, how strong he is. You’d never stop until he finally got it through his brain just how true each word was.
He pulled away and you let him, watching as he cringed and tried to wipe away the wet spot he left on your skin. You chuckled gently and grabbed his hand to stop him. “It’s okay, love, I don’t mind.” He sighs, relenting. He can’t meet your eyes. You wonder if you were in his dream.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks out. You immediately shush him again.
“It’s okay, my love. Thank you for trusting me.”
He sighs shakily, eyes closing. He’s relieved. When he opens his eyes again, he notices the sun’s orange glow behind the curtains, just as you had. “Gods, I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to keep you up all night.”
You cup his cheek and lift his head just so you could place a kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay. Just means we get to have a lazy day in bed.”
He holds your wrist and turns into your palm. “You’re too good to me.”
“And you deserve every second of it.” He kisses your hand, but argues no further. “C’mon, love. I’ll hum to you for a bit, how does that sound?”
It must sound perfectly lovely, because he wastes no time repositioning so his head is tucked into your shoulder, nose pressing into your neck. His hands rest loosely on your back now. You continue to stroke and comb through his hair and hold him close. He can feel the vibrations of your voice as you begin humming a quiet lullaby. They mix with the heartbeat thrumming through your pulse and the breaths you take to continue singing. A symphony of sound to reassure him you’re alright. You’re alright.
---
Tag List:
@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars
#fanfic#fanfiction#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate astarion#baldur's gate tav#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate tav#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#hurt/comfort
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daydreamin'
pairing: more jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader
summary: you get interviewed by your celebrity crush after getting your first pole position, and you boyfriend can't stop teasing you for it. [wc: ~850]
contents: reader is feeling silly, fluff, awful attempt at being funny ‼️NOT proofread (i'll do it later 😪)
req: We need more driver gf x jude 🙏🙏🙏
note: this is sort of a part 2 to ballroom extravaganza but it can definitely be read as a stand alone !! i'm happy that you guys enjoyed my f1 driver!reader work, i have a few more requests for this trope that i'll write when i find the time :D
now playing: daydreamin' by ariana grande (yours truly)
"y/n don't freak out, alright ?"
the words of your race engineer in your ears were already freaking you out, you were already imagining your flying lap deleted because of track limits or a penalty.
"you're on pole! congrats y/n, you deserve it."
"no way, no way... i think this is the best day of my life." you couldn't help but scream in joy, probably destroying your engineer's ears.
"fuck, thank you so much guys... i love this team so much, i swear." you cringed at your sappy comments but you couldn't help yourself. you had a hard time adjusting during your rookie year in f1 and the first few months were quite challenging to you. but this, it was the proof you were getting there, that you couldn't give up.
getting out of your car, you ran towards your team in the parc fermé as they kept congratulating you for your great result. as your team's engineers and mechanics kept patting your back, your eyes met your boyfriend's. you hugged him strongly as if he would slip away from you if you let him go.
"i'm so proud of you my love. you're the best." he kissed the top of your helmet before walking away to get your interview done.
you watched lando get interviewed by jenson button, as he finished p3. he'd always been comfortable doing media work, something you definitely needed to improve. you dreaded this moment, jenson button was one of your favourite drivers when you were younger and you had a little celebrity crush on him back then. of course, it was no longer the case, but you were terrified of embarrassing yourself in front of him, even more so knowing cameras would be filming the moment in 4k.
lando went to congratulate you after finishing his interview while you were waiting for perez to complete his. quickly, a mic was handed to you and you walked to the interview zone.
"y/n, what a lap! congratulations on the first pole of your career, hopefully the first of many..." jenson beamed.
"thank you... i hope to get more poles if i get rewarded by a jenson button interview." you were still out of breath from your lap and the excitement you felt. your nervousness dissipated a bit when jenson laughed at your attempt at a joke.
"that was a perfect lap, you think you can keep that position tomorrow for the race ?" jenson asked you.
"of course it's gonna be hard but both lando and i have the possibility of going home with a great result, maybe a 1-2. we just need to find out the best strategy and my job is just to make sure i drive perfectly."
"that you showed you can do. once again, congratulations y/n, pole sitter here in sao paulo. let's hope i get to interview you tomorrow as a race winner this time!"
"now that's good motivation, see you tomorrow." you waved at the crowd before getting your trophy and getting the pictures done.
jude was already waiting for you with a big smile on his face. he hugged you again and peppered kisses across your face.
"my pole sitter, you were brilliant today."
"thank you, i thought i would pass out after crossing the finish line."
"we need to talk about that interview though, you really want to replace me with that old man?" he raised his eyebrow questioning you.
"he's not old! i might replace you with him if you keep being mean to my main man like that..." you took a quick glance at jude, gauging his reaction.
"maybe you should ask him to take you to the restaurant that your boyfriend got you for tonight, if he'd do a better job than me.' he said feigning offence.
"mmhh you're right, i'll ask him when i see him..." you ducked jude's smack that was aimed at the back of your head and started to run away.
"my media duties are calling sorry." you ran off before jude could make you regret your words, only turning around to stick your tongue at him like a kid.
jude walked towards mclaren's motorhome to wait for you when someone started walking side by side with him.
"how long have you two been together ?"
he looked at the origin of the voice only to find jenson button.
"um, it'll be one year in december. are you planning on stealing her from me before that?" he joked with jenson.
"i don't think i could steal her from you even if i wanted to from the way she looks at you, you two are lovely. see you tomorrow mate" he patted jude's back before going his own way.
when you joined jude at mclaren's hospitality, he had a big smile attached to his face.
"what happened to you ? are you texting your other girlfriend ?" you asked, sitting down next to him
"i'm just proud of you." he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, kissing the side of your head.
he liked the fact that his little encounter would remain a secret between him and your first crush.
#idk if i like thisssss#i have many other driver!reader reqs coming#i wanna kiss all your beautiful brains#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham#football drabble#football one shot#football fanfic#football x reader#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham drabble#football blurb#footballer imagine#football imagine
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