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slasherscream · 3 years

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hear me out crazy ass boy gang with a s/o that writes them songs but has never shown them. randomly the guys find them knowing them some are gonna be insufferable with the amount of arrogance they now possess and some of them have no clue what to do with the concept of someone loving them and verbalizing it 🥺

A/N: oooh my gosh i'm obsessed with this concept

billy loomis: Was waiting for you to get back from school/work, and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t necessarily trying to find anything, but the book was on your desk- you were asking him to read it, at this point. He’s only halfheartedly looking until he realizes the words are lyrics. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the love songs are written with him in mind. At first it makes him smirk. But he can see the evolution of your relationship through the lyrics. General feelings of infatuation melting into the deeper connection of being in love with him, as opposed to being in love with love itself. It’s an ego boost, for sure. Mostly it’s a relief. Here are your feelings, written out on page, clear as day. Your every unfiltered thought. He doesn’t tell you he read the book. He just walks around with a knowing smirk on his face that you’re very suspicious of. You’re easily distracted from this onset of smugness by his sudden romantic nature. He’s never been a bad boyfriend, but he’s certainly never been so downright doting. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you decide to just enjoy this random streak of tenderness.

josh washington: You two were moving in together and he was just trying to unpack some of your boxes for you. He’s honestly just setting up your desk for you. All the boxes are marked so that either one of you can unpack anything inside with at least a vague idea of where the stuff should go. Something about the unmarked notebook that doesn’t look like its for school makes him take a look inside. When he realizes how personal it is he wants to put it down. Then he spots his name... and well, he isn’t a saint.

He melts as he goes through the pages. He knows the two of you love each other. You have to love each other, with all the bullshit you’ve been through. But he knows it’s not easy to be with him. Sometimes he worries that you’ll wake up one day and be done with him. Be done with all the problems that come with being with him. He wouldn’t blame you but the thought leaves him hollow. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. He doesn’t know if he could handle you being gone. You love him though. It’s inked into the pages. Some songs written out slow and careful, and others written out sloppy and fast, like you had to get all the feeling out of your chest because it hurt to have it all trapped inside. You’ll walk in carrying takeout and find Josh crying. You nearly drop the food to run and comfort him. When he tells you what’s wrong - or really, what isn’t wrong, you won’t even have the heart to be angry. He looks somewhere between overwhelmed and awe. All he can think to do is pull you into his arms. He holds you so tightly you wonder if he’s afraid someone will come and take you away.

stu macher: He was just going through your stuff because he was bored, honestly. He wasn’t expecting to find anything juicy. The minute he realizes he’s holding onto a notebook full of songs he’s giddy. It’s practically a diary! You'll come into your bedroom and see him poring over your words without shame. He won’t even have the decency to stop. “Hey babe!”, will be his absentminded greeting as his eyes stay glued to a far-too-familiar book. You’ll have to literally snatch it from him. “Didn’t know you felt this way about me.” His teasing will be relentless. You’ll have to threaten to break up with him, and give him a bit of the silent treatment too. Eventually he’ll ease up on you, his grin going soft around the edges. “You should show me them on your own next time. Else I’ll have to go hunting for ‘em.” It’s not an idle threat. Now that he knows the book exists he’ll really tear up your entire house looking for it. Don’t bother trying to hide it. It won’t be worth the headache.

jd: His first instinct is to become insufferable. As he reads more of your lyrics, he starts getting overwhelmed. Even as he holds the proof in his hands, he can barely wrap his head around you feeling so strongly about him. He traces over your handwriting and relishes every word. You'll catch him in the act but you won't have the chance to get angry. He kisses you like a man starved. Whispers every thought of love he's ever had against your lips, uncaring if he sounds obsessed. He was allowed a glimpse at your soul. It's only fair that he bares his in return.

kevin khatchadourian: Honestly was indifferent at first. He was going through your things because ‘why shouldn't he?‘ when he found all the songs. Page after page he reads. Slowly but surely it starts to get to him. The only person who's ever loved him is his father, and that love is built upon an endless tapestry of falsehoods and manipulation. His father loves someone who doesn't exist. His mother knows him, always has, but she despises him. Celia loves him, but it's pathetic. The hopeless and unthinking love of a dog. And now there's you. When he's with you he drops the act of normality he puts on for everyone else. You were around so constantly that he couldn't stomach wearing the mask 24/7. Beyond that though, there was something about you that made him want to show you everything. At first he thought he wanted to scare you. Now he doesn't know what he really wants from you.

As he reads through the pages he's sifting through your words, finding the deeper meanings. Watches as you stop writing about his mask, and start writing about him. Jagged and malicious and apathetic as he might be. You're infatuated maybe you even love him. You've written out the words in a hundred different ways. He can see it every time you look at him, reach for him, follow him, talk to him. Reading it is different, somehow. You probably never wanted him to see these words. To know the depth of how you feel. You were probably afraid he'd mock you. A few months ago he would have. Now? He puts the book back, exactly where he found it.

He won't tell you about reading it, but the words are always on his mind. You'll think you misplaced the book one day and be beside yourself over losing it. Eventually you’ll find it again, out of the blue. Something is off about it though... but you’re not sure what. You’ll never know that what you have is a replica of the original book. A good replica, granted, but a replica nonetheless. Kevin thought about the songs too much, and committing them all to memory hadn’t scratched the itch. The constant cycle of the words running through his head. The irritation he’d feel when he forgot a part of a song, or mixed lyrics together. Having the book itself? It quieted his mind. He’s uncomfortable with the fact that he keeps it under his bed, tucked away inside a lock box, just so no one would be able to look at it. He’s never felt so protective over an item before. He tries not to think about it too much.

nathan prescott: He actually looked at your song book on accident. He needed to borrow some notes for a class and you told him he could just go to your room and grab them. He would never go searching for something like that. Saying he values his privacy would be an understatement, so he'd never disrespect yours. As soon as he realizes these are songs he wants to stop reading... but he's desperate to know what you think of him. People lie so easily, but here's a chance to see the raw truth of how you feel. He's terrified as he starts to read. Then he's just shocked. He'd hoped you weren't like everyone else around him. Wanting him to fail, to lose it, waiting for some sort of pay-off or trickle down. Even if you were, he wanted you so badly he was willing to have you any way you came, as long as you stayed. But here you are, your deepest feelings written out in ink, and you love him. You don't even pity him, you ache for him, want him. The next time he sees you he tells you he loves you for the first time. You'll never know that he read your songs, you'll only notice how much your relationship seemed to change over night.

sebastian valmont: Has to deflect. The only reason he’s being such an asshole about your songs is because he’s trying to deflect. He’s the only one here who has also written about you. Maybe not in lyrics, or in poetry, but he’s written about you. His diary is full of you. He started writing about you the moment he met you. Not unusual for him, considering absolutely everything is in his journals. But from the start there’s been something different about the entries that mention you. All his words suddenly become electric, leaping off the page. His descriptions of you, of the time you spent together, nearing obsessive in their detail. As if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

If there’s anything Sebastian is good at its manipulation. He knows he has you. He can have anyone, if he puts his mind to it. He’s made people fall in love with him before. There’s a long line of people who wants his head on a platter for that very reason. You’re the only prize that’s ever mattered, though. He has you now, sure. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? It’s easy for eyes to wander, for the heart to turn fickle. Sometimes he watches you and tries to imagine what you might want from him. Tries to figure out what he could do to keep you interested from moment to moment. If he ever shared his worries with you, his worries that you could just get bored with him and leave, just like that - you’d tell him you don’t want him to be anyone but himself. And Sebastian doesn’t want to be anyone but himself, he doesn’t. But people contain multitudes, are more than a single face. He’d rather be a version of himself that captivates you then a “true” version of himself that you can grow tired of.

But here’s written proof that you love him. As he is. All the long nights you’ve spent talking to one another, side by side. The conversations where you traded barbs and philosophy, and everything in-between. The dinners, and picnics, and phone calls, and rooftops. He was so busy observing you, and trying to create a version of himself that you could love, that he forgot that there was something real for you to fall for. Didn’t even know how much of himself he was earnestly offering to you. Now he can see it in ink, and it’s scary, even with how much he loves you, to realize how much of the real him you know.

So he’s an asshole for a few days. When you confront him he falls apart like a wet sandcastle. You won’t have time to get angry before he’s pushing his own journals into your hands. Sebastian has never played fair, but something about you seeing through him despite all his masks made him want to show you more. As scary as it had been, it was also a moment of pure connection. The most electric, addicting thing he’s ever felt. He wants to feel it over and over again.

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #nathan prescott x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #josh washington x reader #crazy ass boys gang #heathers #scream #scream imagine #until dawn imagine #i am not proofreading this if you see an error no you didn't

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captain-barnes-writes · 3 years

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Someone Like You [1/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life.

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (lotssss), language, sexual content, 18+. NOT PROOFREAD.

Word Count: 1.1k

Sebastian missed the way his hands would perfectly wrap around your throat, constricting your breath but still bring a tingling and yearning sensation upon you. He loved your pink pouty lips, kissing, biting, sucking them but especially when they were wrapped around his cock.

And the way you let him fuck you senselessly? God, he missed the way your tightness squeezed him and took him so well; he loved being inside you. Leaving behind traces of bruises and love bites throughout your neck and back and the slight red marks for his spanks on your ass. He missed tracing his hands through your arched back, the unbelievably smooth skin coming alive with goosebumps, stopping at the small venus dimples that adorned your lower back which always prompted him to grab handfuls of your ass.

He was completely taken by you, your every aspect. Your dainty hands would grasp at the sheets or grab fistfuls of his short hair whenever he was too rough, but he knew you could take it. You always did anyway, he was always rough and you loved the loudness he brought out of you. You always gave him a feeling that was like no other, some out of body experience he had no words for.

He still vividly remembered your soft and desperate moans bounce off the walls of your bedroom. Most of your nights together were shared in your apartment to draw less attention to himself. He didn’t want his personal life out in the open like that, and maybe it was to protect you as well. But it was mostly because of his lack of commitment to you. Being away for months at a time made it hard for him to be monogamous. Not that you guys had been exclusive or even in a relationship for the year your little arrangement had lasted for, but it was what you yearned for the most. A place in his life, an ounce of commitment from his part. You didn’t want exclusivity so he could show you off or to become famous through him, you would do that through your own merit. You just wanted him.

At Sebastian’s vagueness, nonchalance and refusal to give you a place in his life, you quickly grew tired of the cycle he had you in. You grew tired of waiting for him, of simply being the girl he fucked whenever he was back in town. That’s all it seemed you were good enough for anyway. You felt inadequate and the feelings you harbored for the dark haired and steel-blue eyed man had to be obliterated. So you’d ended things through a simple text, proceeded to block his number and all of his social media.

Now a year and a half later, Sebastian sat with his good friend Anthony and other set mates having a few drinks after a long day of filming. It’d been a year and a half since he’d last seen you. Today was one of those days when you’d randomly cross his mind. His heart would constrict slightly at the thought of you, yesterday he’d thought of you as well and quite honestly the last few weeks too. Your career had catapulted to the top within the last few months with a critically acclaimed film. As the lead actress, you’d been praised for your talent. Your name was out there now, being uttered by much of the world. Your beautiful face was everywhere, etched on billboards, magazines and throughout social media. It’d been a shock to him to see your face everywhere, not that he’d doubted your immaculate talent, hard work ethic and he knew you’d make it big, but because it had been so long.

You were ruthless and stoic when it came to protecting yourself, so you’d blocked his number and all his social media within a minute. It’d come as a shock when you texted him a simple “don’t come looking for me anymore. It’s over” on a weekday that was the culminating day on set for his latest movie. It was as if you knew he was planning on visiting that coming weekend. You were really the only person he went to when it was time to go back to New York. Fooling around with girls on set wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as being with you and that was clear as day for him, but his commitment issues were a roadblock to your possible relationship.

He had not heard from you for over a year, but now you were everywhere. Maybe, Sebastian thought, this was how it’d been for you for so long: unable to avoid him even though you hadn’t seen him for so long. He appeared in ads, movies and magazines and just seeing his face, and hearing his voice through tv probably brought the same deep searing pain you’d felt all those months ago. Now it was his turn to see you, hear you and cope with the fact that he couldn’t avoid you.

“Man, isn’t this the chick you were seeing last year?” Anthony asked, his eyes glued to the large phone in his hand. As one of his closest friends, Anthony was one of the few people who knew about you. The first time he met you, he’d been left impressed and didn’t understand how Sebastian couldn't do such a simple thing like commit to you. He’d swore under his breath he’d commit to you within a second causing Sebastian to send a sneering glare at him. The dude had some serious problems, he thought.

“What?” Sebastian said, his blue eyes snapping towards his friend who even with his question wouldn’t take his eyes off the damn phone. Scooting his chair closer to him, he craned his neck down to see what he was referring to. Was he talking about you? He’d dated a few other girls throughout the last year and a half, unable to really stick with just one because nobody really compared. Though at the moment, he was currently exclusive with a nice girl without really meaning to. He hated his private life being out there for the world to see and judge, but it had just happened on a random outing of the pair and the photographs were out there now, meaning his personal life wasn’t really private anymore. But you’d been the only one Anthony ever came to have a liking to, always chastising him for letting you end things so easily like that.

“Ya know, the one who got away?” He smirked fashioning his trademark gap toothed smile.

“Stop quoting Kary Perry and give me your damn phone, Ant.” Sebastian snapped with a roll of his eyes. He snatched the grey iPhone out of his friend’s hand and brought it up to his face. And there you were in front of his face, separated by a phone screen. You were barely clothed in flimsy, delicate lingerie with your dainty hands wrapped around another man’s neck.

(To be continued)

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Let me know what you think :)

#Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Sebastian stan fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Someone like you #mini series #angst #bucky barnes #fanfic #masterlist #fanfic rec #marvel fanficion #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader

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rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

you are still the sun that shines for me

part 8 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | G | 3593 | [ao3 in bio]

Life couldn’t get any better. You enjoy what you do here, spending your life without regrets with the person you love the most. That is, until you meet her. The woman who still loves Theo.

CHAPTER 2

The remaining days of the exhibit pass by in a blur. Or rather, neither of you really feel quite like any of it is real, after that first day.

Theo had been so excited on the opening day, as he always is. Opening days were the most thrilling, after all: setting up the canvases, perfecting the gallery, letting people in, seeing the wonder in their eyes—Theo had hardly slept the night before, tossing and turning in excitement. The both of you left the mansion long before dawn broke just to prepare the exhibit space, to carry off the paintings out of the atelier to the gallery, hidden by pre-dawn darkness from the academie’s prying eyes.

And oh, the Academie! The time spent making sure everything was done right, that no one was going to let this out, to check the location, to clear the area of any possible Academie goons looking around… it was time well spent, now that the exhibit was opening! Months and months of hard work encapsulated into five exciting days for the organizers—the both of you—and the artists. Just like that, the rolls and rolls of gauze and a lot of hidden first-aid sessions from fistfights in the alley and the piles and piles of syrup-drowned pancakes and late nights organizing and reorganizing things to perfection has finally come to this.

It wouldn’t stand long–five days is the expected run time–but what matters is it stands. Five days was already longer than the not at all that used to be the norm when he started in this new life of his.

All of this—the excitement, the worry, the nervous satisfaction—had left Theo’s hands nervous and shaky. The sun was still out and he was fixing his tie in the candlelight, behind you in front of the mirror, with no avail. You took the chance to laugh at him (“Don’t laugh at me.” “I’m not laughing at you!” “You’re not laughing with me, either.”) before tiptoeing and pressing a kiss at his creased forehead.

Standing in front of him, just close enough to kiss, you carefully re-did his tie, humming gently. You were already mostly dressed up, with just your hair left to be done. He wanted to press a kiss at the crown of your heard and say you look so beautiful, but instead he held the words in with a thin crescent-moon smile he can feel all the way down his heart. The soft light in his eyes his unsaid I love you.

He trusted in your mind, your skill of reading him, of seeing right through his pretenses.

(He shouldn’t have.)

Because now, on the next day of the exhibit, he wishes he did. He watches you tie a ribbon onto your hair at the dresser, not meeting his eye even if he stares at you hard enough to bore a hole right through. He wishes he did, now that you barely spoke a word to him this morning, even if you’d shared a rather intimate night the night before night. He wishes he did, now that you don’t have even the heart to look back and see if he’s done his tie right today. He thinks of the way you’d pulled him down yesterday morning, his tie in your fist even though you’ve carefully tried to keep it unwrinkled at first, as you tiptoed to press a kiss on his lips, grinning wide when you got away.

Instead, the door creaks open, your hand on the doorknob; you’re not even looking at him. “I’ll just drink some water in the kitchen; I’ll see you in the entryway,” you say, rather blandly, and then leave the room.

The weight of his unsaid oh what would I do without you is painful and bitter on his tongue.

You feign sick on the day of the exhibit’s egress. Theo tucks you into bed and leaves. It feels way too easy, like Theo was also avoiding you.

You don’t know how long it’ll take before you finally get the courage to ask him—to talk to him about this. You know—the rational part of you knows things will be better, resolved faster, be easier if you’d just told him—but when your stomach goes into knots just seeing his eyes because you see them mirrored in the irises of a boy named after his brother, you are powerless to your fear.

You let the sight simmer at the back of your mind. You had thrown yourself into the business of the exhibit proper to actually think about this for the past few days, but today… today, alone in his bedroom, in the century you’d decided to stay in for him, you have all the time to think.

When he left this morning, you lingered in that goodbye embrace, not really wanting to let go.

The thoughts hang over you like storm clouds. Not wanting to be alone with your angry, paranoid inner voice, you settle for helping Sebastian throughout the day. You let yourself overthink when you’re lost in the rhythm of a chore. While hanging the laundry, you think, honestly? You’re not surprised to know that Theo had a family of his own when he was alive. As you’re scrubbing the dishes, you admire—you lament—how he’s capable, and steady, and charming, and has great passion for what he was doing. While smoothing bedsheets, you recall how quickly you loved him—you knew how easy it was to fall for a man like that.

Something green begins to seethe inside of your chest.

Theo is surrounded by patrons, in the middle of conversation with other art dealers who have come to visit (having heard of his prowess), but he doesn’t really feel like part of it. He feels like you should be there with him instead, knows you will be able to provide more interesting insights, but that was a luxury he could not bring himself to ask for.

“Monsieur van Gogh?” one of the businessmen call out to him, and Theo’s mind snaps back into place.

One of the older patrons laugh. “Tired? Forgiven, but only because we see your hard work right here.”

“Pardon, messieurs,” Theo says, fitting an awkward smile on his face. It doesn’t feel right. To smile. To act like he’s okay. “Where were we?”

“Monet, Monsieur Theodore,” a dealer named Desrosiers says. “We were talking about endorsing Monet.”

Theo nods, but only half-listens.

One of the better-kept secrets of the mansion is Sebastian’s collections of history books from the future.

Between that fateful conversation where Comte had offered to bring him back and ask him to work at the mansion and the door actually opening, Sebastian decided to do his best to prepare himself for the long-haul. A good move on his part, considering he was uprooting himself for good, into a world far into the past. Having been assured that all of the essentials will be provided to him in the mansion, all Sebastian really needed to bring with him was luxury items from the present: and he decided that a collection of history books on various topics would be the best option for a history nerd such as himself.

It was a secret (to everyone besides him, Comte, and you) because Sebastian felt like he would ultimately alter something inevitable if he had left his collection in the library, to the others’ prying eyes. The last thing Sebastian wants to do is mess with the history even more than the timeslipping of all these great figures already has.

For a moment, you consider tasting what it means to change history, returning to the sight in the gallery, but then you shut that train of thought down.

Not wanting to ask Sebastian himself about your relationship problems (as he was definitely more nosy than you’d want), you ask him, instead, if he has anything on hand about the van Goghs from the 21st century, where you both come from. At first he’s a little taken aback–you had said, “van Goghs”, and not, “Theo and Vincent”–but he quickly recovers and scribbles chapters and volumes and titles onto a sheet of paper.

(“You have it memorized?”

“Not completely, but those of relevance to the residents in the mansion, yes.”

That’s definitely more than just mere relevance, but you settle on thanking him and go find the books.)

You pore through the books with a dedication you’d never found before; the passion so strong you hardly really notice you’re doing it nearly entirely out of spite.

A book about the turn of the century has a short paragraph about the artists of the period. Gauguin (you flinch), Vincent, Toulouse-Lautrec. There’s no mention of Theo at all, much less his life. Relief floods you, but only momentarily. You put the book down.

You move to something a little closer to home: a book of influential artists across history–make a mental note to read this cover to cover the next time you have a chance to, just because of how useful it might be–and thumb to the end of the book to ‘v’ and find a short biography of Vincent. There is a mention about his having sold only a single painting while he was alive, thanks to his art-dealer brother—but then nothing else. There is no mention of his brother’s wife. You put the book down.

The last book is a biography of Vincent, lovingly annotated by Sebastian in pencil and with post-its from the future, its adhesive already giving away; you’re careful, making sure not a single one loses its place. The history fanatic has gone and marked the bits where history as you knew it diverges from the history this vampire Vincent knows. You thumb the post-it where Sebastian has written “gunshot” in his neat handwriting, carefully skimming through the page until you reach the arrow pointing at a paragraph that describes Theo’s death by what might be syphilis: worsened by the loss of his brother, weighing heavy on his shoulders, having been Vincent’s primary benefactor for the length of their lives.

The following text sears itself into your eyes.

His wife, Johanna van Gogh, worked after their deaths to establish the legacy of the van Gogh name.

You don’t really know what you’d expected to find, what you’d expected to feel when you found something, but you still are not prepared for the blow that hits you the moment you read her name.

She had no photos, no indication of anything else, but you see the beautiful woman in the gallery, so smart and proud and put-together, and you want to shrink into a small ball.

Would he be better off with her?

Well, no, because he’s left the Theo she knows, and now I have him, and she has no hold on him, you tell yourself, but your brain reminds you that you saw Theo’s expression in the young boy’s eyes and you’d caught her and Theo talking at the other end of the gallery, you just couldn’t bear to look more than the two seconds you’d seen them.

What did she tell Theo?

Did she recognize him?

What did Theo say?

What did he feel?

Why didn’t he bring this up to you?

Maybe… maybe for the same reasons you don’t bring it up to him.

Your hand, nearly on instinct, makes a move to close the book and put it away, but your heart is banging in your chest and you keep reading. Sebastian has no notes to supplement the text, just a curious “different?” written on the side; Theo has always been secretive, and it is unsurprising that the butler has been unable to unearth anything about the man’s wife. But you keep reading anyway, cautious as your mind blurs the space between history as you know it and the history you are currently living in.

You read about a night train home, Theo in a straitjacket.

You read about flowers she’d brought as a gift, and how he’d destroyed them instead.

You read about visits where he doesn’t recognize her.

You read about exhibits in Paris homes they no longer could occupy.

You read about graves.

Your heart is concrete in your chest, sinking deeper and deeper and making it hard to breathe.

You read the entire latter part of the book until there is no longer anything left to read.

Instead of full of the knowledge, the discovery, the things that make reading fun to begin with… you instead are empty, hollow. Like the text had instead carved something out of you; had taken it away.

With the vacuum of confusion sitting in your chest, you put the books back into their original places, making sure the wood keeping the wooden shelving hidden from sight is right in place.

You take the note from Sebastian and burn it on the flame of a lamp. You watch the paper slowly turns black, and drop it just before it sears your fingertips. Then you go to the garden to think.

Theo wanted the ability to say he didn’t go looking, but it was an urge he couldn’t really do much in resisting. Much to his—relief? delight? disappointment?—however, Johanna van Gogh-Bonger did not show up at the exhibit’s following four days. He confirms this fact with the logbooks, leather-bound and heavy, carrying his secrets, like how he inspects it so carefully now that you’re not around, when no one is left in the gallery, artists carrying out chairs and tables. It feels like a crime, the way he runs his thumb over her signature at the first page. It feels like going back.

And just like that, the exhibit closes without any other incident.

(Except it doesn’t really feel finished, not when Theo’s feels a hollow in his chest.)

He wonders what you’re doing back at home.

How long were they married? Was that their kid? Did Theo know? Did he choose the name? He must have, knowing him, but–

Does it make a difference about how much he loves me?

You know for a fact that the first person you should have gone to was Theo.

But you don’t, because you were too afraid to do so. Too afraid to hear the truth from him, and then maybe find something else out. Something worse. You don’t even know what that could be but it eats you up on the inside, clawing underneath your eyelids like a saltwater monster.

“Why are you looking so down, zusje?”

You hadn’t noticed Vincent coming out to the garden, lugging with him his usual art materials when he’s going out to paint. Perspective frame, canvas, a small seat, toolbox (with his brushes and paint), sketchpad, and some rouge. He also has a little gas lamp with him–so he must plan to stay out long. You’ve still yet to get used to Vincent calling you his sister.

It comes out of your mouth before it registers with you. “Can I come with you?”

“Of course,” Vincent answers after a short pause of surprise. You hadn’t answered his question, after all–and this was all so sudden. Everything is so sudden.

You take five minutes to sprint back to the mansion to tell Sebastian and to pick up a book to read before you’re walking next to Vincent. You volunteer to carry the little stool and his canvas (“it’s heavy!” “no, I swear, its not—Theo and I carry paintings all the time!”) and the two of you walk side by side. He’s on the way to the overlook, he says, to paint the city in the twilight, as night begins to fall. Now that you’re a little more knowledgeable about the art world, you get to have discussions with Vincent about art techniques, styles, and even other painters–you spend the walk to the overlook talking to each other about this and that.

It’s always lovely to lose yourself in art.

Until… you lose.

Vincent tries to steer the conversation toward talking about the exhibit, but noticing your dull half-answers, he decides not to push. He pats your head in comfort–his big-brother I’m here to listen if you need–and then returns to talking about anything else.

The both of you get to the overlook with just enough time to set up before the beautiful flaming red of twilight begins to cover the streets of Paris in a warm glow. You help Vincent set his painting materials in order and when that’s done, he helps you lay out the picnic mat he brought with him and–oh! Sebastian packed him sandwiches he eagerly offers you.

You like to watch Vincent paint. The time you’ve spent with Theo helping out with his art dealership work has definitely sharpened your senses about painting and art—and, naturally, you’ve cultivated an undeniable adoration for Vincent’s painting style as well. You’ve learned so much of art history—the Classical painters, Renaissance, the Impressionists… and you’re sure Theo is right in saying that Vincent is the genius of a new generation. Rough, and hurried, as if the moment he’s painting will disappear any second now. You’re entranced by his work. You’re entranced by him working. You don’t dare interrupt him during the process.

But when he pauses to let his paint dry a little, putting down the palette and the brush and the paint, you let your curiosity get the best of you.

“Have you ever fallen in love, Vincent?”

Like waking up from a trance, Vincent’s voice is hazy. “Me?” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Not me, you hear, in your mind, filling the blanks.

Vincent turns to you, blond hair tussled in the wind, sky blue eyes wide in concern. “Why?”

You purse your lips.

Maybe you should have gone to Theo instead. Taking it out on his brother, this is just unfair of you, isn’t it?

“Did something happen at the exhibit?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

Vincent watches you pensively.

“Is it Theo?”

A tear slides down your cheek without permission, without you noticing, right to the ground. Your eyes hurt.

“I don’t want to know,” you start. “Knowing makes it harder. I wish I didn’t know.”

Confused, Vincent gets off his stool to sit on the picnic mat with you, wiping his hands on his apron. “Know about what?”

It takes all your strength to look up at Vincent.

“Tell me about Johanna?”

The sun’s long out of the sky when the exhibit’s egress finally finishes, paintings and chairs and tables stuffed into rented carriages and wagons to be brought back to their home in the atelier. Some of the artists are cheering and laughing, talking about planning to drink in celebration afterwards. One of them slings an arm around Theo’s shoulders, inviting him to join them.

And Theo knows—Theo knows at that exact moment what he should have done. He should have said no, I’m going with you, should have said we’ll go drinking some other time, you baiseurs. They will forgive him; they know how in love he is with you. They respect your relationship, and they will tease, but they will let him go. Theo knows he could have done better. Theo knows he should have gone home and asked to talk to you. Should have sat you down in his room, held you in his arms, and attempted to put the constricting feeling in his throat into words.

Theo knows, but he doesn’t.

Because he doesn’t have the courage to face you yet.

So instead, he goes drinking with the artists. Tries not to think of you alone to the mansion, sinking deep into the la thermae under the light of the stars, staring at yourself with that empty gaze in the mirror in his room. If you could even stomach being in his room, anymore.

He focuses on the sight in front of him: reveling in the artists’ conversations, brightened by the successful exhibit, their dreams of the future; their ambitions glimmer a fierce gold so opposite to the flickering light of the shady bar they’d landed in.

Being able to follow his own aspirations with you next to him has felt like that, so similar, to strikingly familiar in its brightness, that he’d lost himself in its light so easily, finding himself easily tripping on wisps of darkness he hadn’t imagined were growing from the source of his light itself.

And by god, I will stumble, but I will not let that stop me.

That’s what he always tells himself.

But how does one pick oneself up after this?

What does one do?

Why did this happen?

The alcohol burns a hot stripe, like a punishment, down his throat.

Theo comes home late that night, smelling like whiskey. You smile at him as if you hadn’t spent the better part of the day nursing the bruising parts of you. Theo kisses you goodnight and rolls over to his side, facing away.

(He hadn’t left you in your bed tonight, but with his back turned to you, you feel as hollow as that night he did.)

You let your eyes wander to the moonlight leaving streaks on the bedroom wall. You think of the woman who Theo kept coming home to. You think of children.

(“Be happy, even in somewhere I don’t know,” he had said.)

You close your eyes and dream of fireflies.

---

you are still the sun that shines for me is a 5-chapter fic that will be posted daily for the next few days! catch what else is in the atelier later on in this fic. :)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevam theo #fic #atelier heart #you are still the sun that shines for me

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et-lesailes · 4 years

Text

two artists

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1707

prompt: “Hi! May I request a fix with Steve rogers where the reader is a writer & has a scar on the right side of her face (eyebrow till cheekbone, diagonal) & Steve keeps seeing her in a caffe & thinks she's gorgeous not even caring about the scar & sketches her & finally decides to ask her out when he sees her silently crying over her laptop because she just killed off 1 of her favourite characters? Maybe shes a but insecure too?Thank you so much!”

themes: just a quick little fluffy piece :)

taglist: @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @mizariomi, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @marvelouspottering, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @peach-acid, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @danathewitchywoman, @denisemarieangelina, @mango--mango, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @almost-had-the-stars, @sebastian-i-stan, @whysparker

notes: i have removed a handful of people from my taglist due to lack of interaction with my fics, and will be removing more the next time i post based on how reaction with this fic goes. it takes a LONG time for me to manually tag every person so please understand that the least you can do is read my work and give it a like if you are asking to be on this taglist! anywho thanks to @allthefandomstogether for this lovely graphic!!

He comes to this cafe almost everyday, and each day he is almost sure to see you, much to his pleasure.

To be fair, he started coming to this cafe far before you did. In the 1940s, to be exact. It is now run by the original owner’s granddaughter, and he is sometimes shocked when he sees the similarity between her features and her grandmother’s, though he keeps this to himself. He does not like to draw attention to the fact that he is Steve Rogers, Captain America.

He sits at his regular table near the back and you sit at yours, also towards the back but on the other side of the room. He goes there to have some peace from the craziness that is the Avengers; he often brings a couple books, his sketchbook, and the iPod Touch Tony had gifted him when he had first come out of the ice. He can easily upgrade, but he has no desire to. He prefers being old fashioned, he hardly even likes using the complicated smartphone SHIELD has set him up with for missions.

You only started coming a couple of weeks ago. He isn’t sure if you come every single day, but most of the days and times he is there, so are you. While he used to spend most of his time reading, he has found himself beginning to draw more and more. He used to draw quite a lot back in the old days; ever since becoming an Avenger, he simply did not have the time, and, quite frankly, the muse. Now, it is all coming back to him. He feels inspired upon your mere presence, and he simply has to draw everything he feels. At first, it is the items around you. He draws the latte you seem to favor, the journals you’re constantly writing in, the brown bag you keep your things in, even the sleek MacBook Air. Finally, he wholeheartedly accepts his creepiness and draws you. He can’t help it. You are incredibly intriguing to him, and not to mention beautiful. How could he not want your image displayed in the pages of his sketchbook?

It is another day and he’s shading the delicate features of your face. He loves when you furrow your brow in concentration as you write, how your tongue even sometimes sticks out slightly. It’s adorable to him.

His pencil begins to outline the thin scar across the right side of your face. He does not know how it got there, and while he is curious, he sees so much more to you than such a mark. All he can hope is that whatever happened, it is not bothering you anymore. He knows how mental scars hurt just as much as physical ones, probably even more. God knows he’s collected quite a few over his century of living.

He also wonders what it is you’re writing over there all the time. Is it a story? A memoir? A journal? He wants to read all of it, at the risk of sounding like some kind of creep. Perhaps he’s already too far in to be worrying about that, though.

He’s so absorbed in his drawing he almost does not notice your change in expression. It is when you momentarily cover your face with your hands that he frowns, looking to you as if you will somehow understand through telepathy that he never wants you covering up that beautiful face. However, once you remove your hands, he widens his eyes as he sees tears running down your cheeks. You sniff and rub them away, taking a deep breath before returning to typing away on your laptop. He has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to do something. The thought of you being in any type of pain is breaking his heart. What is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know you.

He stands up rather abruptly, causing the people at the tables around him to give him an odd look. He avoids eye contact, adjusting his baseball cap. He finds his legs walking towards you, no plan of action in his normally calculative, strategic mind. He is standing before you now and the presence causes you to look up.

The eye contact almost blows him away. Your eyes are wide and slightly wet, making even your pupils glisten slightly. He’s never met anyone who looks pretty while crying, God knows he certainly isn’t. “Are you okay?” he asks somewhat suddenly and awkwardly, and you blink- he stares at your eyelashes wondering how such a small part of your face can look so beautiful to him. “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you say with a sad smile, even chuckling slightly. He decides he wants to hear your real laugh as soon as he possibly can. “I didn’t know anyone saw me, that’s embarrassing.” You look away now and he frowns. He wants you to look at him. “Do you maybe want to talk about it?” he offers, hoping he doesn’t seem like some nosy freak. You wipe at your eyes again and he notices you’re still looking away. “Oh, it’s really not that deep,” you assure him, still laughing awkwardly. “I- I’m a writer, see, and I’ve been working on this story for a while, and--” you pause, taking a deep breath, “--it’s stupid, really, but I just killed off one of my favorite characters, and I’m just… sad now. I got too attached.” You rub the back of your neck, looking down at your keyboard. “Silly, isn’t it?”

He’s never been more enamored.

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. “No. Not at all. Writing is a form of art, and art…” he hums thoughtfully before continuing, “art evokes strong emotions. Even if you’re the one creating it.” He remembers rather morbid sketches he drew after Bucky’s death. Sure, he could have drawn something happier to help him feel better, but it was more important to let his grief and emotions out rather than pretend everything was okay. You look up at him again and he instantly takes advantage of the returned eye contact, studying yours as his smile barely grows. “Honestly, you’re the only person I’ve met who responded like that,” you tell him softly, your voice somewhat shy. “Everyone else would just tease me, tell me that I’m the one writing it so I can just change it. But it’s not like that, you know?” He immediately nods, smiling wider. “I completely understand. Sometimes the happy ending… isn’t always the right ending.”

You look up at him for a few moments before realizing this eye contact is too intense, naturally shying away again as you look back down at your laptop. You have good and bad days when it comes to your self esteem, especially with the thin scar running across your face, and it’s safe to say you’re feeling significantly more insecure sitting before such a handsome man like him. He frowns slightly and clears his throat, gesturing to the empty seat across from yours. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” You blink and barely gaze up at him, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Um, yeah, sure, go ahead…” He smiles, clearly happy as he sits down, and you feel even more shy now that he’s right in front of you. “My name’s Steve, by the way. Could I know your name?”

You blink, everything suddenly clicking. He had seemed familiar but you had brushed it off-- considering how outrageously handsome he was, you had assumed you had seen a similar face in a damn magazine or TV show or something. Upon hearing his name, however, you now realize just exactly who this is, and now you’re even more confused as to why he’s sitting with you. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself nonetheless with a small smile, looking at him somewhat curiously. “Not to be rude or anything but-- why exactly do you want to sit with me?” He chuckles, finding you adorable already. “If we’re being honest, I’ve seen you here a few times, and I’ve always wanted to come talk to you.” You blink and glance down as you barely play with a strand of your hair, anything to keep your awkward hands occupied. “Me…?” He chuckles, barely biting on his lower lip. “Yeah, you. Is that so hard to believe? I was actually kind of hoping I could ask you out on a date. Get to know you better.” He’s a little surprised with himself; for someone so sculpted and “perfect”, he’s never really been quite smooth with the ladies. Perhaps he wants to be more confident to help draw out your own confidence.

“A date?” you repeat, practically bewildered. Is this some type of prank? No, Steve Rogers would never do something like that. As you look up into his eyes, all you see is hope, sincerity, and a kind, friendly twinkle. You quickly look back down. He’s being serious. “I-- um, I haven’t been on a date in… a really long time…”

“So what better time to start than now?” He grins, cocking his head to one side. “Please? Just one, and if you hate it you never have to talk to me again. Though I’d be really, really sad if that happened.” You can’t help but giggle softly, looking up at him again. This time, you actually maintain eye contact for more than five seconds. “I doubt I would hate it.” You respond, surprised that you’re actually beginning to flirt a little. “Alright. Here’s my number.” He playfully pumps his fist in a triumphant movement as you scribble your number out on a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Thank you. I can’t wait.” He feels his work phone buzz in his pocket and he sighs. “Though right now, duty calls. I’ll call you later tonight, alright?”

You watch in somewhat of a daze as the muscular superhero stands up, taking out some hi-tech device you wonder if he even fully knows how to operate. Probably something invented by Tony Stark. “Alright,” you manage to say, nodding your head and even giving him a little smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #requests

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orbitariums · 5 years

Text

press | sebastian stan

Your debut Hollywood film had made its way to theaters and nothing could be more eye-opening. Your first taste of fame and it was everything you could've imagined it to be. You weren't very preoccupied with fame though. In the beginning, although the idea of fame was like the runner-up of a marathon, just barely catching up to the finish line, the real winner of the race was your appreciation for art and your desire to have a successful career. To you, success didn't mean making an eight figure salary, winning awards or being recognized in the world of fame.

To you, success was playing roles in and being a part of a work you were truly invested in, something that wasn't just entertainment but truth, and meant something. That was why when your agent presented to you a script for a rom com/ drama movie about a distancing couple dealing with the reality of their love, their children and their own personal turmoils only to work together and grow as best as they could, you went for it. Not because it was Hollywood, but because it was a raw, real, and passionate story that wasn't even just about two lovers, but went far beyond that.

You were working with famous actors who had already established their dominance in the Hollywood world, and had already "made it." This didn't really hit you until you got onset and started to really make connections with them, and when the movie got so much buzz was when the marathon thought in your mind became more apparent— you were going to be famous.

You were famous, what the tabloids were flagging as "the hottest new thing." You hated that phrase, it made you feel more like hot garbage, but it was inevitable in the media. You made your mark and there was no escaping it, only tolerating it, for now at least. You didn't hate all of the buzz, you just didn't really care for it much. All you wanted to do was remain being yourself, and you knew you'd be fine, or so you hoped.

All this fame seemed to really hit you one day at a press interview for the movie, called "Before I Fall Again." You hadn't really been to many of these, or any at all. All of your interviews before this had been quite intimate, just an interviewer and a few camera people in a room while you answered questions or your costar, Sebastian Stan answered questions with you. Sebastian had noticed your antsiness backstage though, and made it his point to assure you that these weren’t as intimidating as they seemed and that you would kill it. And from then on, your slightly frazzled nerves were soothed.

With each interview though, the media couldn't help but take note of your chemistry with Sebastian Stan. It was inevitable- you'd known each other for months now and were in a movie together where you had to pretend to be in love, so of course you had an amazing friendship with him. But you had never taken the next step, for unspecified reasons- you wouldn't be bad as a couple, in fact if there was one thing the media got right, it was that you two looked great together.

You weren't together of course, but it seemed that way, and the two of you definitely slathered on the charm like sunscreen at the beach whenever you were together, to increase movie ratings and amp up promotion for the movie. Sebastian was really just a great person altogether though, and he thought the same of you.

For the press interview, you, Sebastian and some other co-stars for the film, as well as well-known director Ava Duvernay were seated in chairs on a stage, out in the open, answering questions from raucous press who had just seen a screening of the film and were buzzing with questions and praise.

After introducing everyone, and Ava getting her chance to speak on the movie and her intentions with it, you were asked a question, and since you were asked a question, automatically Sebastian had to answer it too.

"So, YN, you are an up and coming actress and all this fame is relatively new for you, right?" asked a woman in the front row.

You smiled and nodded, polite as always, and the journalist continued,

"And so, I wanted to know, what is it like as a new star working with a star who's already made his mark in this industry, and in such an intimate role? I mean, you two are practically on top of each other one half of the movie and yelling and screaming at each other the next. Were you at all intimidated by any of it, did you think at all about how the media would react?"

Before you could answer, Sebastian opened his mouth to say,

"I just wanted to say, before YN answers. Even though she's young and up-and-coming and new to this whole Hollywood scene you would never be able to tell, and I mean that in the best way possible of course. She's very talented, very mature, very able and willing to do whatever it takes. I mean she creates notes more than taking them, and if she feels like getting in my face she'll do it, no problem. I mean, I was scared to do the things she was doing without anyone telling her or without being given notes. So yeah, I would say she has already really honed her craft and her newness in this industry has nothing on her talent at all whatsoever." Sebastian paused, glanced at you and smiled, and out of instinct you smiled back. Then he cleared his throat and looked out into the audience, and jokingly muttered, "And she's beautiful."

You snickered. Besides the last part, every time Sebastian opened his mouth to compliment you he was being genuine, and you could say the same thing. While you two definitely tried to appear very loving and affectionate for the sake of the press and ratings, the love was most definitely there and it didn't take acting or notes to be provided.

In the midst of "awws" and cherishing applause from audience members, you smiled at Sebastian and the two of you made eye contact, and he mouthed "love you" (which, unbeknownst to the two of you, would be the biggest thing in the tabloids and both your social medias that week.) You rolled your eyes playfully at him but bit your lip, and forced yourself to face the journalist so you could give an answer before you blushed.

"Um, I definitely think..." you gripped your mic, trying to remember what it was that the question was asking.

Though you knew why Sebastian said what he said, he still made your heart flutter, even this far along into your new yet intricate and loving friendship. He was devastatingly handsome and as professional and non-materialistic as you were, this was something you couldn't ignore, especially when he was so highly-regarding of you in interviews and in general.

You continued, getting a grip,

"Well, it's easy to say I wasn't intimidated, which for the most part, I honestly wasn't. I've always loved to act and so I've done so many fucked up things - am I allowed to say that?"

You didn't even realize you said it at first, and you thought it was stupid that you had to monitor your language with all this newfound fame or during interviews even though there was literally a naked scene in the movie of both you and Sebastian, and countless language in the movie. Everyone laughed and you assumed you were okay, and continued on.

"I've just done so many fucked up things with people and even though what Sebastian's character and my character do in this film isn't necessarily fucked up but is very deep and just grim, it's still not so bad. I just think overall nothing really scared me. I didn't really think about how famous everyone was until I was getting to know everyone and I realized I was seeing Sebastian outside of like, Gossip Girl and the Marvel movies so it was more strange than scary. But no, there were some things that scared me a little. But like Seb said, I definitely wasn't scared to do a lot of stuff."

"That means she was very willing to scream in my face and slap me," Sebastian nodded into the microphone, faking dread.

Everyone laughed and you nudged him playfully, and the interviewer carried on with another question,

"What were some things that did put you out of your comfort zone?"

"Well, just like, the very intimate scenes, just because I'd never done much of that since beforehand I was always in short films and indie movies and plays. But clearly it wasn't that bad."

"My favorite part," Sebastian added, joking yet again and eliciting more laughter, and you just pointed your thumb at him, smiling wide.

"I'd just like to know, how much of that intimacy has been carried out into your real life relationships with each other? Please, both of you are open to answer,” another asked.

"Well I- you wanna go?" Sebastian faced you, and without meaning to, a smile crept onto your lips as you gazed at him and shook your head contently,

"You can go."

Sebastian just smiled at you and took his bottom lip into his mouth, holding his gaze at you for longer than he should've before he answered the question,

"Well YN and I have hate sex every night, just like in the film.”

The audience roared with laughter and your face heated up. If you were alone you’d push him off his chair only to hold out a hand for him to grab onto and get back onto his feet again. You side eyed him with a mischievous smirk and he just smiled and laughed your way, then shook his head.

“No, I’m kidding. But really though, sometimes it feels like we are a couple. Like without all the insane problems we went through during the movie but our intimacy is not too far off from what you see onscreen. She’s definitely very close to me now and I really only want to see good things for YN, she has a special place in my heart and I feel very proud to be watching her blossom like this, like I thought she would. She keeps me on my feet which is amazing considering how much longer I’ve been doing this than her. She’s really just... amazing.”

Again you couldn’t help but feel flattered at his words, and knowing that he meant it and would say those things to you in private was so important to you. Even though you were now too busy cooing to give an cohesive answer, you answered as well,

“Sebastian is actually the perfect coworker, especially for the first time working on such a project because he’s so lovely and so attractive.” Everyone laughed and Sebastian made the “call me” signal with his hand and mouthed it at you, making you giggle before you continued on. “Really though, everything he said I could say about him. He’s incredibly humble and never once doubted me, and is always giving me amazing advice and he feels like my mentor. And I think that’s the greatest form of intimacy anyone can really ever receive.”

The interview continued on and the two of you had plenty of eye catching moments such as those, and at some points you just got caught up in each other’s conversations and drifted away from actually answering the question. You were acting like you were alone and having a one on one conversation, not in front of a hundred people.

Even with all the flirty moments and the sincere gestures of appreciation towards each other, you couldn’t help but think you didn’t even need to date him to have a relationship connection. It came naturally for you two, a kind of friendship for soulmates.

Of course when you did start dating not long after, no one was really surprised.

#sebastian stan #imagine #sebastianstanxreader #oneshot #bucky #marvel #yn #flirting #famous

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thescreamingdemon · 4 years

Text

Day to be Damned Part 2

Landyn: [I watched as they advanced, trying to ignore the fact three of the eight were fighting a blank space. Or so they thought, I knew that Cooper was there, and had my back. I pushed forward on the bed and settled with my feet on the floor, still watching the ones advancing without their weapons in a position where they might knock me out before I was aware it was happening. I focused on their shoulders, their faces and their stances. I knew that in order to swing one of those weapons they’d have to brace, their muscles would bunch and they’d tense to put the appropriate weight behind it. I kept a lazy grin on my face and tried not to focus too heavily on the silent attack from the back of the room. Thankfully some of the men were far too focused on the way my jeans sat low on my hips, and I was making sure I leaned back just enough to show it off. I was still waring with myself, the drugs vs common sense. Logically I needed them close enough to touch me first, violently or sexually, and then I had them and could lay them out. But the drug that moved through my brain was whispering to enjoy their bodies before smashing their faces into a wall. It seemed to play out in my mind, the way the light would play over their bodies, all trim and muscled from years of hard work. I was the one they’d been sent to hurt, and I knew that meant I’d get my pick, in the middle of all those bodies while they thought they were hurting me and traumatising me, when the drug Sebastian had given me would ensure I loved every fucking minute of it, until morning anyway. I knew my breathing had picked up, and my body was reacting to the thoughts. Whether I wanted it to or not. The images gave way to thoughts of their faces pulverised into a wall or my fist, blood running in rivers down their bodies, and mine. Cooper fighting at my back, his body was built just for that it would seem, and while I knew I could outmatch him, I wasn’t about to turn down the invitation to watch openly while he murdered the people sent to inflict pain on us both. My heart rate picked up and I didn’t quite manage to swallow a groan at the thought. They’d interrupted us when they’d barged in the room, and I was still running hot from that. The violence along with the thought of what would come after was enough to have me swallowing hard, not even trying to tramp down my physical reaction. Not even caring if Cooper saw it, whether he thought it was for the men in front of me, the drugs or him, I knew that it’d set a fire going inside him. One that I’d probably need.

I was so caught up with what would happen when any of these dudes touched me, I hadn’t noticed that they’d managed to get much closer than I’d realised. They were smirking at each other, talking about pounding ass and what that might do to someone as fucking delicate as me. What the fuck? I growled and bared my teeth, “I’m not some little flower that you’ll break if you touch. And trust me, you’ll find that out first hand if you lay a finger on me. Dare to try?” I arched a brow at them, and watched one lower to his knees while the others came to either side of me and without warning gripped both my wrists. I tensed as my arms were wrenched behind me, the one on the floor letting his hands curl around the waistband of my jeans. I didn’t give them another second before I grinned and yelled, “All yours.” Before leaning left then right to slam my forehead into the males either side of me, their noses exploding instantly with a shower of blood and their grip loosening on my wrists.]

Cooper: *I dropped all three demons into a confused pile of limbs who were still fighting the air and turned back in time to see the others advancing on Landyn. I clenched my teeth, rage boiling beneath my skin, when hands curled his wrists, wrenching his arms but when I saw hands reaching for his waistband, the anger exploded from me in a blinding fury. The male who grabbed his waistband went flying backwards as he head butted the two at his side and my cloaking went by the wayside. I dropped the cloaking as all my energy was now focused on destroying the asshole who touched what was mine. I met Landyn’s eyes and let out a low growl* Only one needs to be alive to send him a return message, correct Kulote? Please tell me that we get to kill the rest.

*A demon groaned behind me, capturing my attention. Honestly, it was the only thing that could pull my focus from Landyn right now. I turned back, crossing the room, stepping over the first three demons still scrambling around on the floor. I reached for the demon who was trying to push himself up the wall, his eyes widening as he saw me approaching. He shook his head. “You…you weren’t part of the deal.” I tipped my head and smiled a mirthful, wicked smile as I bent down and curled my fingers around his throat, picking him up off the floor. My clawed fingers dug into his pasty flesh, dimpling the skin until pinpricks of blood began to pool on the surface. His breath grew labored as I brought his face closer to mine.* You should have made a better deal.

Landyn: [I felt my eyes widen when Cooper became visible. I knew somewhere in my fog covered brain that it wasn’t good they’d seen him. Fuck! My attention was pulled away instantly by the demon being ripped from between my thighs and thrown across the room. His fingers had pulled free of my waistband by the motion, but not quickly enough that his claws hadn’t ripped skin when he’d dug in, and the buttons on my pants were now nothing more than a fraying gap. I exhaled and then rolled my eyes, managing to reply to Cooper’s war cry with an amused sound, “Yeah, only one needs to go back alive. You can take your pick. These two here will likely not make it I’m afraid.” I grinned at the two either side of me, they were both still clutching their noses, but had started to realise what was happening. Their fingers tightened on my wrist and they looked past me to make eye contact with each other. I grinned and then threw myself backwards, feet coming over my head so that I could spin in their hold and land on my knees. One of the two hadn’t quite managed to keep hold, and his fingers popped free, leaving yet another scratch mark, “Can none of you fuckers keep your fingers to yourself. I am scratched to shit, and I do not even like you like that. I normally give permission to mark my flesh, and believe me I enjoy it. In this case, can you either scar me or die. Because I’m not sure I have the patience for much else. You know Sebastian drugged me, and I was willing to give it up for whatshisname,” I flapped a hand at the demon that Cooper currently had in his grasp, “But then he fucked it up and ripped my jeans, see?” I gestured again to the gaping hole in my pants where the buttons had been ripped off, “So, now I’m just pissed off, and you all know what happens when I get pissed off.” I winked at the demon who was looking at me like I’d grown another head. Idiots, they should have tried to take me out while I bitched. Where did Sebastian find these morons? I grinned and then used my free hand to reach under my pillow and grab the knife I’d hidden there. I didn’t wait another minute before I arched it in a wide circle in front of me, around chest height. The blood that rushed from their throats was instant, drenching every inch of me, and pooling around where my knees had depressed the mattress. I huffed and then started to shuffle backwards, unsteady on my feet when they eventually hit the ground, “Fuck, I’m going to throw up.” I looked over at Cooper, the pleading clear in my gaze as I fumbled for the bucket that had fallen to its side in all the excitement, “Finish it. Send a message. I’m sorry.” I barely managed the final word before I landed on my knees with a wet plop against the blood soaked carpet and emptied the entire contents of my stomach into the bin.]

Cooper: *Landyn’s words were a dull buzz in my ears but I heard the confirmation I needed. Only one needed to be left breathing. The rest, the rest could be eliminated. And based on the way his heart was racing and the with the drugs in his system, I knew, I wasn’t sure how much longer he was even going to remain upright, let alone how long he was going to be fighting. Good thing I had enough pissed off energy running through me to fight for both of us. The demon in my claws began to scrabble against my hold, desperately trying to pry my fingers free of his throat when he realized my intentions. I narrowed my eyes at him* You really should never have touched what was mine

*I squeezed tighter, my claws digging in and closing around his Adams apple until my claws touched and I ripped them free. The blood poured as his head flopped forward on the empty space before I dropped him to the ground and turned to the rest. I wasn’t going for finesse or showmanship. It was rage and revenge, pure and simple. Especially when I saw Landyn collapse to his knees, knowing the drugs had fully taken hold of him. He needed me and that meant the sooner I was done with the assholes, the sooner I could take care of what was important. And that was him. I grabbed his dropped knife before one. Of the others could find it in the pile of bodies. The last two had their attention on my male anyway. Since he was still their target per my father’s orders…such good little soldiers. They were conspiring, trying to figure out how to explain things, to see if they could still fuck him before they beat him, they were stepping closer one thinking Landyn on his knees was too good of an opportunity to pass up…That was his final thought before I shoved Landyn’s blade through his brain stem. Giving it an extra twist as I pressed it harder up into his brain before I pulled it back and dropped him to the ground. I grabbed the final unharmed demon by the back of his hair and wrenched his head back, he threw an elbow back and swung, bringing his own knife back in a wide arc. I felt the burn against my stomach, but it barely registered. It was something I would feel later, I’m sure, but now, right now, in this moment, it didn’t matter. I pulled his head harder, the bloody blade of Landyn’s pressing against the soft skin below his ear as I pressed it firmly until he dropped to his knees* You will go back to my father and tell him you failed. You will tell him exactly what happened. Do I make myself clear? Landyn is NOT to be touched again. Not if he wants this bullshit arrangement to happen. And if I ever see you, I will end your life slowly.

*He growled at me, bared his little fangs and swore. He argued. The blade slid under his skin slowly. His eyes watered and he argued more. Half his ear dangled from his head before I asked if he wanted to reconsider. I still had three mostly alive demons in a pile on the floor, I reminded him. He swallowed hard. His ear fell to the floor. Landyn was heaving in the bucket and my anger was growing. ”Okay okay. Never again. I’ll tell him.” I pulled the knife and stepped back, giving him a chance to get to his feet. He stumbled and faltered, then like a dumbass, he rushed at Landyn’s back with his knife drawn. I launched and tackled him to the ground, using Landyn’s blade to slice his throat from one end to the other and dropping him at Landyn’s feet. With a growl, I pushed back to my feet and found the pile of three, eyeing each of them and giving them a choice of living or dying. They all looked around the room and it didn’t take them long before they were willing to throw their buddies to the wolf. I was finally left with one, one who helped kill one of his friends before he swore his loyalty to me, promised me his life, promised Landyn his life, offered us his first born, his second, his wife, anything we would take. He handed me his weapons and bowed his head before me and I knew, I could smell the truth. I let him go, then walked over and to Landyn up from the floor.* Don’t fight me. We’re going to the other room so I can clean you up. Then you will rest. Then Valac will be back, he will clean up the bodies and make your room livable again.

Landyn: [I watched, even as I wretched into the bucket over and over again. There was nothing in my stomach, all that came up was acid and bile. I could barely feel my lips, even as I spat another mouthful of stringy phlegm into the barely full trash can. But I kept watching, I watched Cooper clock the fucker that was sneaking up on me, wondering whether I’d have begged for more, or fought for my life had he made it any closer. The fact I had to ask myself that question was troubling enough, in a sort of fluffy far away kind of way. I blinked slowly and kicked my leg backwards, hitting the demon in the knee just before Cooper managed to take over. The spray of blood didn’t bother me, I was already drenched through my jeans. I closed my eyes for a minute though, letting the misery of the whole situation settle on my chest. I knew what I’d let myself in for, I hadn’t walked in blind. Though I also hadn’t been given a choice. Though now my choice would be to stay purely to watch Cooper’s back. Because I wasn’t sure anyone else was able to do it. I was glad that Skee hadn’t been one of the guards Sebastian had sent, he’d have died fast and that would have upset me. Not that I’d advertise that in front of Cooper. I wasn’t sure he was ready to make friends with anyone who was under the same roof as him. And I wasn’t about to make things awkward for us. I heard the thump as the body hit the ground and then I opened my eyes again to watch the rest of the show. I couldn’t help it, it made me grin. I managed to haul myself into a sitting position, basket between my thighs as I breathed as slowly as I could, chin resting on my forearm. I was pleased to see Cooper’s anger was being let out on something that wasn’t his father. We’d managed to get what we wanted in terms of the honeymoon, the wedding would be got through with gritted teeth. I was sure that the fuck arounds from Sebastian weren’t over, but I also knew that Cooper was going to be on a slow boil until he was able to take a shot at the old devil. I heard the demon with Cooper beg, and I spat another mouthful of bile into the bucket, I was sure there was blood all over my face and in my hair from pulling it back to stop it sticking to my sweat covered face. I groaned softly and then blinked slower than I thought possible in order to watch him run out the door like someone had lit a rocket up his ass.

The arm around me startled me at first, but Coopers gentle words stopped me bitching about it. I slowly relaxed into him, allowing his weight to support mine. I wasn’t used to this, and I didn’t want to make a fuss of it, despite how much my brain wanted me to get all soft and fluffy. I paused briefly, holding a finger up to get Cooper to stop, I swallowed and then spoke, my voice barely more than gravel, “Wait, the bin. In case…before I make it to a bathroom.” I exhaled miserably and bent to curl my fingers around the edge of the waste bin, using Cooper to pull myself upright again. I snorted when we started walking again, “Good thing my body enjoys you being close, my jeans would be around my ankles by now otherwise.” I chuckled to myself. Feeling drunk and high and all kinds of frustrated. If I started humping his leg like a dog I’d not be embarrassed, until the morning at any rate. I huffed in another breath and then tipped my chin up, “Clean me up, then knock me the fuck out.”

Cooper: *I kept a firm hold on Landyn, even as he picked up his puke bucket. I didn’t give a flying fuck about the blood, the bodies, or even the bucket of bile. All I wanted to do was get him washed up and then into my bed to rest. Everything else was inconsequential. At least until I was able to end the piece of shit that was my father. I knew I would pay for what I had done here, but even that didn’t phase me right now. I would do it all again in a fucking heartbeat. The thought of any of them touching him had my blood broiling once more. I squeezed Landyn to my side slightly tighter, flashing him a grin when he gave me that little smart ass comment.* I’ll have your pants around your ankles soon enough. For now though, let’s focus on one thing at a time.

*I helped Landyn over the bodies, made sure he didn’t slip through the blood, then lead him from his blood soaked suite across the hall to my own room, pausing whenever he needed a moment with his bucket, not that there was anything left for him to offer it. We made the immediate right into the marble bath room and I kept my hold firm as we walked towards the shower where I reached in with my free arm and flipped the water on to a suitable level of scalding. One that would strip the blood and possibly a layer of skin, but at least we would both be clean, and then I led him inside, protecting him from the water at first so he could adjust slowly to it. I kept my arm wrapped around him, my back to the spray as I eased us both inside the sanctuary of the marble walls.* You can set your bucket down now, Kulote. I’ve got you.

*And I did. I kept one firm arm around his waist while I reached for the soap with my other hand and began to run the bar over his skin. Mindful of how tender it still was with the poison running through him but still desperate to help him remove the blood. I was torn, conflicted with my emotions. I wanted to protect him with all that I had, run away where no one could find us, but I also wanted to storm from the room and rip my father’s head from his shoulders without a second thought. His death couldn’t come soon enough. But I knew things had to be in place first, otherwise….otherwise all hell would break loose and everyone would suffer.*

Landyn: [I chuckled through the feeling of sick in my throat, then shook my head, “Enjoy that thought, it’s only making holding these things up earlier without a belt.” I groaned as I had to use muscles that didn’t want to be used to pick through the bodies and keep my balance in the blood. My stomach felt fragile in a way I am not sure I ever remember it feeling before. Sebastian needed taking down a peg or two. I was happy to start imagining all the ways I could hurt him, torture him, kill him. But then I’d leave Cooper unprotected, and that wasn’t why I was here. I kept my hold tight on the basket and then allowed my gaze to flick across the space that stretched from one door to another, it seemed miles, and I was hopeful that no one was around to see this. Though they were likely all briefed to stay out the way so that they didn’t inadvertently fuck something up. The walk to the room was filled with the sound of me retching into a bucket over and over again, bloody footprints the only evidence of us having been there. I almost fell over when I got into Cooper’s room. Thankfully he kept his arm around me, I rubbed against him just to feel the warmth from his body soak into mine bare chest. It was bliss and torture all at once. The drug in my system made my skin so sensitive I just wanted to be touched, though I was thankful my mind hadn’t been taken completely. The bathroom eventually surrounded me, despite really having no memory of getting there as quickly as we appeared to. I knew in reality it had been like wading through syrup, but I was happy to be somewhere that would be an easy clean if I was sick again. The bucket of puke was dropped, and I was too out of it to protest the fact I did as I was told without snark. The shower would hide all my sins. Would probably hurt like fuck with my skin as prickly as it was, but that was better than the ache that was currently thrumming through me. I managed not to stumble, though I knew I’d be caught, and that was something that pissed me off far more than I would like to admit. I was meant to be watching out for Cooper, not the other way around, right? I managed to settle both palms against the marble and leaned my head against my forearm. I felt Cooper move around me, washing away the blood that coated my skin like a protective layer. It hadn’t all dried, and I realised slowly that it was probably why I had felt so fucking cold. I shifted my stance so I had more control over my own weight and then reached a hand down to pull the last button open on my fly so my jeans could fall unhindered to my ankles. They got stuck though, which I should have realised with them being soaked through, but I hadn’t. Well that sucked. The effort made me grunt as I pushed at them with the one hand I dared to use, the other still helping me balance. After what seemed like hours, but was probably merely a second I gave up. I didn’t care, they could stay there until they dried and I could change into the wedding gear I’d need for this forthcoming shit show. I shook my head and then tipped it slightly so I could speak over my shoulder, “Your father will pay for this. Even though I know this is likely the first of many times we’ll be in this situation during this fight. I need to know you can keep your temper when it matters. And not do things to deliberately piss him off, since tomorrow you will be on show and he’ll push every button he knows you have. What you did at dinner, that’s what he expects, but I know you can do far more than that.” I straightened slowly and turned, letting my back hit the cool tile so I could face the male who was dripping wet and equally coated in blood. Though some of it was now running clean from the shower spray. I absently reached out a finger to trace down one of those trails while I spoke, “I trust you, I think you trust me. But we’ve got a long fight ahead of us. I’m here because of my skills and powers. That tells me that neither one of us are safe, but at least I’m safe from death, for now. You’re safe from that as long as I’m alive and with you. Anything else we can take head on. No matter the extent of the injury, right?” I arched a brow as I watched for the reaction.]

Cooper: *Every rub of Landyn’s body against mine was torture. I knew he wasn’t up for anything and to be honest, I wasn’t either. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off and the night had dragged on too long as it was. He needed rest so his body could heal. The shit my father had dosed him with was strong. Landyn was stronger though. Others would have caved by now and given themselves over the effects of the drug. He was still fighting it. His stubbornness was one of the things that drew me to him. I knew now though, that was what would keep us both alive. I continued to wash the blood away and when he tried to remove his jeans, I waited until he was done fighting and then used my foot to hook his pants to help him step out of them easier after he turned to face me.* He will push all of our buttons, this much is true. And he will pay dearly for it. Until we have a plan, I will do my best to keep my temper in check and take myself from the room before I lose control. I don’t want innocent people caught up if I can avoid it. However, if he harms you in front of me, I make no promises of what will happen to him then, or what I will do.

*A shiver ran down my spine at the trace of his finger and I stepped closer as I used the bar of soap to continue to wash the blood free of his skin* None of us will be safe until the threat is eliminated, we need to let Jade and Sky know what happened tonight as soon as it’s safe to do so. But I do believe they are safe and we should be safe for now. He won’t risk anything else this close to the wedding. After, then I will probably receive my punishment for interfering. Likely before we leave for the honeymoon since he knows you can revive me. As long as I ‘learn my lesson’.

* I used the little air quotes and rolled my eyes with a small smile on my face before I gently turned him under the water to begin rinsing him off* We will take it as it comes. He showed his hand early I believe. Or at least now he knows I’m aware of his shit. That will unhinge him a bit. That gives us an advantage.

Landyn: [I smiled at the reaction I got to my touch, but I wasn’t about to do anything about it. I was starting to gain control back, and I was glad that I’d only half begged a random stranger to fuck me after Cooper had gotten me riled up. I then growled low at the punishment. We’d both likely get something. One for taking the help offered by Cooper and killing the demons sent, and the other for being there to help and killing the demons sent. I had no doubt I’d get something that would fester over the honeymoon period in the hopes I’d be less qualified to do my job. While Cooper was likely to find himself on the receiving end of a slow death that would ensure we both learned a valuable lesson. One we’d not doubt curse blind at the time, but would ignore when it came time to make Sebastian pay. I swallowed thickly and then cocked my head, “I can’t think either one of us will enjoy what’s coming after the wedding. But as long as you’re alive and well in time for the honeymoon and all that baby making you’ll be doing for Sebastian, he’ll be happy. Have you ever seen his torture chamber? For anyone else, it’s quite a thing of beauty.” I snorted weakly and then turned when instructed. I closed my eyes and inhaled the warmth that came with the splay beating down on my overly sensitive skin. I ran my hand down my torso and over my cock. I knew that Cooper hadn’t washed me all that thoroughly, perhaps for fear of what would happen with the drug in my system. But now the jeans were off, and slowly flattening into a jean pancake on the bottom of the shower, I could reach the bits where the blood had run past the waistband of the fabric. I did that as quickly as I could and then straightened, leaning back against Cooper, “How are we going to get out of this one. It’s forbidden for anyone other than you and your wife to sleep in here. We’ll have to get my room cleaned up so I can go back there. Or I’ll have to sleep in the bathroom. Which isn’t appealing. But might be worth it if I need to empty my gut again.” I snorted and shifted so that Cooper could take advantage of the shower. I sank down onto the little ledge that wasn’t really butt friendly, but would have to do until I could stand alone. I hated being reliant on someone, but at least I trusted Cooper, it’d have been so much worse if I was on my own. Well, I’d have gotten laid before being carved up at any rate. That might have been easier. I snorted and then let my head thump back against the wall. “Think Sebastian is missing them yet? I’m pretty sure they’re meant to be back by now with my blood coating their knives. Idiots thinking I wouldn’t have fought back. I think I got lax because you were there. Funny what trust does to you.” I slowly realised I was slurring my words a little. And saying far more than I wanted to. I used my forefinger and thumb to pinch my lips together and lifted my eyes to Cooper, shaking my head to tell him that I would say no more until I was back in my own bed. Well I hoped that came across. I wasn’t speaking until the shit was out my system. I’d embarrassed myself enough.]

Cooper: *I gave another roll of my eyes when Landyn mentioned how it was forbidden blahblahblah. Like I gave a shit. I was tired of the rules and bullshit. My father already fucked that shit up. We couldn’t kill him yet and we had to go through the mating and all that for now. We had to follow certain protocol, but other things. Things that happened here, right now. Yeah, fuck that. I turned my attention to Landyn when he sat on the ledge, vision bleeding to red* You will not go back to your room tonight. I don’t give to flying fucks what others think. If I have to put the mattress on the floor, or bring it in here or whatever. You’re sleeping in my bed, with me. Nothing will happen, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. We’ll get through the shit show of the ceremony and then face whatever punishment that asshole has planned. From there, we go to Paras and work on our plans for freedom. If I die, then whatever. You bring my sorry ass back and we do this shit all over again

*I shook my head and made quick work of the shower, rinsing off and then slapping the water off when I heard Landyn start to slur his words. I reached out and grabbed a towel, then wrapped it around Landyn, drying him off as I looked him in the eyes* You can trust me, just like I trust you. We will figure this out, together. My father underestimated us all. He’ll learn. I’m betting Sky and Jade will surprise him too.

*I finished drying Landyn off, then grabbed a towel for myself and dried off quick before I grabbed him once more. Then I subtly, not so subtly, started to lead him to the main room where the bed was, where the camera feeds were still fucked up*

Landyn: [I happily leaned into the touch without worrying about consequences. I figured I could blame the drugs or the entire shit fuck of a night. I listened to what he had to say, but I found I was shaking my head even as my brain tried to tell me that his logic was sound. Why couldn’t I stay here, I was meant to be protecting Cooper, and if he deemed it necessary, then staying in his room was something I could do. Though I’d be required to sleep on the floor or one of the numerous uncomfortable as shit chairs in the room. “I think that everyone has underestimated Jade and Sky, not to mention you. Sebastian knows how to control you. And he’ll know even more if you leave me in this room. As soon as that guard goes back to him, he’ll figure out the feeds aren’t working when I’m not in my room. Which means we’ve got to put them back. Which means whatever happens he’ll see and hear. I don’t mind being used against you, at least you’re safe. That’s my job, but I do mind if it means that you’re given a harsher punishment in order to push me past my limits.” I realised that half of what I’d said was slurred and probably not even coherent. I just needed to get to sleep. Get this shit out my system. I had about 6 hours left to sleep, get ready and report back to Sebastian for my duties during the ceremony. I didn’t know which was way up for the most part, and the drug leaving my system left me feeling empty and pretty miserable. I swallowed hard and realised that I was hungry, for numerous things, but food was a real issue. I also noticed, secondary to my stomach making a bid for freedom, was the fact he was steering me towards his bed. Towards the one place that I actually wanted to be, and knew I couldn’t. Not right now at any rate. I growled softly and pulled us to a stop. “Compromise? There’s food in my room, in the fridge. I have some sandwiches in there that I was going to eat after you finished your fancy meal. That didn’t happen. So grab those, and I’ll grab those. Then we’ll cut the feed and have us both coming in here together, with the food. Then if we happen to just fall to sleep, it doesn’t look weird. Or to Sebastian it won’t look weird. I’ve got just enough left in me to clean the footprints in the hall.” I pulled free of Coopers arms and sighed hard. I didn’t want to be doing this, but it was the safest thing for us both. Or so I though. I knew that Cooper would argue with me if he felt I hadn’t thought of something. But this way, Sebastian could still spy, as he wanted. I’d be safe and looked after, even if was discreet, and he’s have someone at his back in case round two was taking him down as well this evening. Though I couldn’t see Sebastian doing that with the wedding having been thrown together at such short notice. Either way I limped slowly back towards the bathroom and then leaned heavily against the door frame. “Just got to get through until tomorrow night, then we’ll be a little safer, and have time and space to ourselves without worrying about being stabbed in the back.” I snorted and then leaned my head against the cool wood. I really needed to get a power nap in. But first food and clean up. If I could make it that long.

Cooper: *I let out a soft derisive snort and shook my head at Landyn* He thinks he knows how to control me, and maybe to a point he does, but only to a point. I’m not the male I once was when I left this realm the first time. I’ve been out of his sight for many years now. I’ll fix the feeds and he can take from the view what he wishes. The demon will report to him that I was there and that I helped you. I think it would be natural that you would end up staying here in that case. I will just have to show restraint around you once they go live. I’ve doe it before, in the dining hall, I can do it again.

*Once Landyn pulled free of my hold, I let out a soft sigh and grabbed a pair of sweats from my bag of shit, tossing a set to him, then pulling on a set for myself. I wasn’t sure how he was still standing but I knew he didn’t have all that much left in him and was likely just running on pure stubbornness this point.* I’ll go grab your sandwiches. Get to the door. By the time I get back, I’ll fix the feeds, so we can ‘come in together’ I’ll help you inside, you can eat, we’ll crash and my fucking asshole of a father can deal with the fall out concerning the clean up. He sent those assholes to fuck you up, I want the others to see what happens when they cross us.

*I didn’t leave room for further argument as I walked from my suite across the hall to Landyn’s, mindful of the blood that covered the floor. I grabbed his ointments and tossed them in a bag I found, along with some of his own clothes, then walked to the fridge to pull out the sandwiches he was talking about, tossing them in the bag with some drinks that were in there as well. After grabbing a few more of his necessities, I walked to the front door and held my hand against the frame to concentrate. Taking the deep slow breaths that I needed, I sent a silent hope that he made it to the shadows of the doorway, and focused on bringing the cameras back to life. I could feel the energy flicker and flare before the steady hum alerted me the systems were back online and then and only then did I cross the hallway back to my own unit where my bed and the stubborn male awaited*

Landyn: I nodded along with Cooper. His father did think that he could control him, but Sebastian would soon learn that Cooper only gave up control when it chose to. As much as Sebastian would do some truly horrific things to keep everyone under his thumb, it was likely he’d met his match with Cooper. Even if he thought right now he was the one calling the shots. Cooper wanted to get to the honeymoon, wanted us away and without the constant watch of the cameras. And with being out somewhere, if we disabled anything, it was likely to take much longer for Sebastian to come along and sort it out. That alone made my heart beat faster than it should. “He thinks he knows you. That’s where he’s wrong, he believes he’s the strong one because it’s who he is. Just stick with the game plan and don’t let your temper get the better of you. No matter what Sebastian throws at you. Everyone involved knows the risks and is in this regardless of that.” I nodded and then took a slow deep breath, my feet taking me over to the darkened side of the room. I would need to walk through the hall and into the room. Technically Cooper should be in his bed and be woken by me coming in the room. But since Sebastian would be well aware of what had happened by now, thanks to the noise, the idiot we let go and the fact there was a blood trail from my room to Coopers, I didn’t much care about continuity. I did want to be dressed in something that wasn’t covered in blood though. So I watched Cooper leave, the growl exiting with him as the door creaked almost shut. I leaned heavily on the wall and then focused on my right foot. “Ok, this is the last thing I’m going to ask of you. Let me get into the pants and I’ll go to bed and you can sleep all this shit off before we start up again tomorrow. That’s all we’ve got to do. One foot, then the next so I don’t end up bare ass naked next to Cooper in bed. I’ll wake up missing a rather important part of myself if that were to happen.” I inhaled again, my exhale coming out on another deep rumble as I leaned forward, stumbling slightly when my ass hit the wall behind me. Far closer than my half dead brain could manage to work out. “Fuck it. Come on already. Like I don’t look stupid enough already flopping around in this room on my own. Get it together Landyn.” I huffed out a laugh and then stuffed my foot into the first leg of the sweats, the second following quickly. I pulled them up to my waist and halfheartedly pulled on the string so they stayed on my hips, but only just. Fuck it, I was getting into bed anyway. They would stay up long enough to get there. I tipped my head when I heard the door to my room shut, my eyes meeting Cooper’s as he came through the door. “I’ll take the right side. No snuggling.” I flashed him a grin and then started to limp over to the side of the bed I’d said I’d take. My entire body was aching from the drugs and the fighting and the puking. I needed sleep and I needed it badly. Tomorrow was going to be a test on everyone’s patience when Cooper got to say ‘I do’.

Cooper: *I held Landyn’s gaze for as long as I could before I turned away and barely managed to withhold the growl that threatened at his words because I knew he was right. The cameras were on and I had to show restraint if I wanted to keep Landyn this side of living. I clutched the sandwiches like they were my damn life vest right now and walked with him towards the bed, sticking close in case he needed any help because the last thing I wanted was him falling on his face. I’d rather him grab for me than give Sebastian the satisfaction of seeing that shit. As we got closer, I whipped the covers back and then set the bag of food in the center of the bed* Eat, then take your medicine, I think I grabbed everything, then you can sleep until it’s time to prepare for the ceremony.

*I let out a jaw popping yawn as I climbed onto my side of the orgy sized bed and leaned against the headboard, watching to make sure Landyn did as he was instructed. I cast my eyes towards the camera and shook my head* I want to make sure we can leave the reception as early as possible. You will need time to recover and the island will be the perfect location for that to happen. If we survive the ceremony that is.

*I shook my head and sighed. This whole situation was beyond fucked up and I needed….we needed a plan. But I couldn’t think of anything when we were constantly being thrown one thing after another. Which was another reason we needed tomorrow to go weekly. Once we hit the island, we’d have room to breath, room to think, room to simply be* #DayToBeDamnedPt2

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loquaciousquark · 6 years

Note

Fenris and Palm?

faejilly said: palm, fenris/hawke

thisonelikesaliens said: I’m feeling aspen and palm

(still listening to this)

–

palm – bend without breaking

aspen – overcoming fears and doubts

–

Once, when she was a child, a storm rose over the hills over Lothering. She had stood in the doorway of the house her father died in, watching the sky go green and wild as the winds turned dark, as the trees whipped each other into a frenzy and her brother took Bethany and their mother to the storm cellar beneath the western wall. Lightning had leapt from the towering thunderheads like the Maker himself had marked their path; the sky had rolled like water towards her, billowing and beautiful.

She’d watched an old oak tree, sixty feet high at the corner of the south field, twist like a rope under the wind. It had bent, all its leaves buffeted sideways; then all at once the winds had caught it and uprooted it, a net of wood and root and earth torn loose and spattering dirt high into the sky. She’d watched the fence shatter under the weight of the bole, watched the storm surge into it and over it, the rain like sheets blown in the wrong direction until even under the porch roof her skin glittered with water.

She’d prayed, then, her eyes open, breath slow and measured as thunder. Maker, never let me be so brittle. If not the tree, make me–

make me the storm–

–

Isabela calls her a storm, once, laughing, unpredictable as a summer squall and just as likely to leave wreckage in her wake. It’s hardly a fair comparison in Hawke’s opinion; she’s always been quite clear on the brevity of her temper, and she honestly does her best to mitigate the damage she can’t stop leaving behind. Hardly her fault if the Arishok picks her, lone among a city, to defend a people who hate what she is; hardly her fault if she happens to keep killing–or nearly killing–everyone she loves.

Not that, as she confides to Sebastian one night, when she’s had a little too much to drink and he’s the only one who’s stayed after cards to help clean up her library, it wouldn’t be easier, sometimes, if she hadn’t been born.

He sucks in a breath, sharp enough it cuts through the drunk-sweet haze, and she impatiently explains: she doesn’t want to die, fool man–she’s too stubborn for that–but can’t he see how much better they all might be without her? Fewer forced excursions out to the Wounded Coast in winter, if nothing else. A net benefit for them all.

Don’t say such things, Hawke. The Maker hears all prayers, good and ill.

The Maker, she says, scoffing enough Sebastian shakes his head. The last time he listened to my prayers, Lothering burned to the ground. And Bethany–

Her name again, more gently, and a hand on her shoulder. Had you not been there, more might have died.

Had anyone else been there, she might have been saved.

Sebastian shakes his head again, and so does she, and she wakes the next morning with a headache like lightning behind her eyes.

–

It rains the day of her mother’s funeral. She’s glad, in a way; it’s bad enough to keep most of the insincere inside, especially with the chill, and the sharp no she gives when Sister Mayenna offers a postponement makes them both wince. Still–she has the rights of chief mourner (again, again, again), so the sister pulls on a lined shawl and Hawke ties her hair back, and they go out into the rain together.

As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,She should see fire and go towards Light.The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,And she will know no fear of death

Her heart is wild as thunder all through the now-familiar rites. Not rage, not quite–something colder, more dangerous, more feral. Varric had come to her and asked, delicately, what she wanted for the funeral, and she hadn’t understood, but–who knew, after all? Who knew where the rest of her mother’s body was? She had her head, and Alessa’s hands, and Ninette de Carrac’s body, and the feet of a stranger and so if Hawke liked, they could burn her in effigy instead, a straw figure draped in black silk, so that the poor creature her mother had become might be laid to rest somewhere safe and out of the way where she might never have to see it again and she can’t, she can’t–

A hand folds around her hand.

She blinks, startled, and looks down and then up again, and there is Fenris, somehow, dark hood drawn up over white hair still soaking in the rain, his eyes forward on her mother’s body–what remains of her mother’s body–his bare fingers tight enough on hers to bruise. Tight enough to root her in the moment and not the maelstrom of her mind, at least for now.

All right, she thinks. All right, all right, that’s enough.

She swallows, hard, and straightens as her mother burns. Later, when Fenris comes to her room and there is only the smell of ash, she’ll let herself bend under the weight of grief until she can’t breathe for it, but for now–for now, she grips his hand and lets him hold the storm away a little longer.

–

“The Maker spoke to me, once,” Hawke says, and her voice is echoing and strange in the high stone walls of the Gallows. “In Lothering, after my father died.”

“Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven,” Meredith snarls, the crimson light of the lyrium sword thrown in rippling fistfuls across the courtyard. “Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them–”

“Yes, yes, lightning shall rain down from the sky and all that,” Hawke says, lifting her staff above her head. “You had only to ask.”

make me–

make me the–

Only glimpses, then, as the lightning strikes again and again and again, dancing in great white sparks down the bodies of the metal slaves Meredith has raised for her fighting; reflected across the mirror-shine of Aveline’s shield, thrown up against a templar’s arrow; made dimmer, just for an instant, by the star-bright glare of Fenris’s lyrium lit all at once.

make me the storm–

–

There’d been a sapling in the shade of the great fallen oak. She’d found it the next day, inspecting the damage to the fence. Half its leaves had been missing, but the greenwood had borne the brunt of the winds and not been destroyed.

She’d heard her father’s voice, then, clear as if he’d stood beside her:

Weather the storm, daughter.

–

There’s fire at the heart of her, sky’s lightning in her veins. The metal giants fall, one by one, shattered to bronze stars; the templars yield, one by one, bending knee and head in the face of the onslaught. The storm has changed; the world can sense it.

So does Meredith, screaming, blinding scarlet. “She should see fire,” she shrieks, “and go–towards–”

Light, only, as the blade at the end of Hawke’s staff pierces her chest where she kneels, where crimson explodes, blood and lyrium and something deeper, cracking, corrupted all that is left of Meredith into the stillness that comes only after the passing of a storm.

“Sometimes a wood is better for the burning,” Hawke says into the silence, and pulls her staff free.

–

Never thought I’d take a whole city down with me, Hawke sighs, both elbows on the rail of Isabela’s ship, Kirkwall a spire of smoke heavenward on the horizon, the taste of ash lingering in the air. Sometimes I think it would have been better if…

A hand folds around her hand. She knows it so well by now, the calluses more familiar than her own, and she leans her head backwards onto Fenris’s shoulder until she can see nothing but grey sky. All right, all right, all right. Enough.

Don’t be silly, Isabela says staunchly, the feather on her hat blown almost sideways in the wind. Lightning never strikes the same place twice.

Don’t tempt me.

Fenris laughs, and so does she, and when they go to the fore of the ship she stays a little longer, breathing in, breathing out, testing how the world feels when the storm has come and gone in the heart of her and she has weathered the wildness of it.

A little wild herself, perhaps. Strong enough to bend. Strong enough to stand again, after.

That’s that, then, she says aloud, and goes forward with the others, the wind strong and steady at her back.

#fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #dragon age #quark writes #last one for tonight #the heavier the metaphors get the happier my heart is at the end of it #will poke at more of these tomorrow!#sleep well all #tarysande #quark replies #faejilly #thisonelikesaliens #tree meme

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sopewriters · 7 years

Text

Battle Scars.

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (end-game); Jungkook X Original Female Character

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance (and random derps); Normall!AU

Word Count: Roughly 4K

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationship(s); insecurities; self-deprecation

Notes: It sounds worse than it is. I think. I’m supposed to be studying for exams and I was, until I re-listened to Battle Scars (by Guy Sebastian & Lupe Fiasco) and this happened. God damn it.

“I hope you never come back!” She yells, shards of glass digging deep into his skin, eyes alight with fury, “Get out!”

He doesn’t react—can’t—and only stumbles back when she pushes at his chest with strong hands, cheek still stinging from the strike that was landed on him from only moments before.

It’s yet another night.

Another night where he’s wondering what he’s done so wrong, another night when he begins to question why he can’t stop, can’t stop himself from coming back again and again and again. It’s toxic, yes, and it’s his own shaking fingers that inject the poison into his veins.

“I love you.” He says dimly, and there’s a pause and he sees the incredulity in her eyes before there’s another shove that has him tripping over the entrance, hissing as the cold makes his cheek sting.

“I don’t want to see your face.” She says squarely, and the frown has him flinching, “Leave me alone until I’m ready to talk.”

The door is slammed into his face and he doesn’t move for a couple of beats, mind still working to wrap its head around what’s going on. It’s only then that he steps back, a sigh of pained acceptance escaping his throat, and he turns around, to head back to his place.

Except that he doesn’t want to go there. He can still see traces of her lingering around his apartment; the light wisps of her perfume, the black hoodie she’s abandoned in his room, the innocuous toothbrush that’s sitting in its rack—innocent things that are choking him, that are suffocating him.

He decides then, that he’s not going home. Not when it doesn’t feel that way.

He walks slowly, feeling his phone vibrate in its pocket crazily, undoubtedly from Jin, demanding where are you Jungkook, don’t you see how late it is? Or from Namjoon wondering is everything okay?

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore; would rather be left to suffer on his own, to scrape his own nails into his skin, to be the one that’s making him bleed out slowly. There’s no escape from the Devil, and he sits precariously on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering about how he should just do it, how he should just say fuck it and mess up again.

His eyes are unfocused as he walks mindlessly, in a direction he doesn’t even recognize. So it doesn’t even faze him when a strong arm comes to grip his shoulder, slamming him into the wall, dragging a pained whimper from him.

“Watch where you’re going, punk.” One of the men who’s stopped him hisses and Jungkook can’t help the mirthless laugh that bubbles from bruised lips and the tiny smile twitching onto his features.

“What the actual fuck?” The other one rears angrily, landing a punch on Jungkook’s jaw that makes his head snap to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

He can’t move with every hit to his bruised body, each mark adding to collection, and he slumps over, hands cradling his abdomen by the time they’re done with him.

“Fucking punks.” He hears one of them mutter as the footsteps fade, “No fucking respect anymore.”

It’s cold.

He shivers as he pushes himself up, muscles screaming in protest as he does; the pain grounds him, he finds, makes him remember he actually can’t lie there all night.

He limps agonizingly, often pausing to catch his breath, when he catches sight of light—the only light he’s seen in the area so far—and he curiously makes his way there. It looks to be a café, operating 24/7 and he hesitates for a moment, before his shaky hands come to push against the door, warmth hitting him as soon as he enters.

“Welcome!” He hears someone shout from behind the counter, a female employee, and he mumbles something out through cracked lips, before he looks around.

As far as cafés go, this is pretty basic, he decides, but it doesn’t make it any less welcoming, especially to a weary traveler like him. The yellow lighting is dim, but he can still see, and it soothes the tiny pricks of pain shooting through his head; he stumbles into a chair, legs folding underneath his weight as he collapses into the plush seat.

He hears someone gasp, and he lifts his eyes to meet your shocked ones.

“Are you okay?” He hears you gasp out, and he can’t even croak out the barest of yeses, but he doesn’t need to, because you’ve crossed the room in a few steps and have gently taken his face into your soft hands, turning it slightly so the bruises catch in the light.

“Wait a second,” You murmur to him and like an aimless boat, looking for an anchor, he nods, “I’ll go get something for your face.”

You return in barely any time, a tiny first aid box clutched tightly in your hands—he can tell, because of the tiny red cross decorating one side of it.

“What happened to you?” He winces at the inevitable question, and hears you pause, before your hands resume their work of rubbing a cotton wad with disinfectant, “You don’t need to answer, sorry. My name’s Y/N, by the way, I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

He hears your laugh for the first time, and he swears it’s the purest thing he’s ever heard, graceful like tinkling bells. Immediately after that, he chucks the thought from his head—he can’t do this to someone else, too.

“Nothing happened.” He manages to squeeze out, before he hisses when the wet cotton touches the cut decorating the corner of his lip, “My name’s Jungkook. Ow.”

“Looks like it.” You say, smile lighting up your features, and he can only gaze at you in surprise as you joke around with him—a random beaten-up guy who’s showed up in the middle of the night—and he can’t stop the answering shy smile that makes his lip hurt again, “Obviously, you show up like someone’s used you as a piñata for no reason, Jungkook.”

“Is it that bad?” He raises his hand curiously, but lets it drop, not wanting to actually touch his face, “I mean, do I look that bad?”

“You don’t look bad at all.” You hum and your cheeks flush, mirroring his own, “I mean, the b-bruises are pretty bad, but it’s not going to cause any major damage.”

“I’d tell you that you should’ve seen the other guy,” Jungkook licks his lips, “But I didn’t really do anything.”

He gets to hear you laugh again, and he counts it as a win, even as the rest of the process is done without much talking.

“All done.” You announce proudly, packing up the kit, “Don’t go anywhere, though.”

“I don’t think I can.” Jungkook admits as you jog back to the counter to put it back, “Why do you have a first-aid kit by the way?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many rookies burn their fingers while handling the milk.” You call back, disappearing through the double doors that read EMPLOYEES ONLY in block letters, “It’s both sad and funny at the same time.”

He’s left in silence, so he finally checks his phone, which has finally fallen silent.

There are up to 13 texts from Namjoon, and over 20 from Jin. His gut clenches in guilt and he quickly types out a generic answer to their last messages, telling them he’ll be home soon.

He startles when a plate is placed in front of him with flourish, complete with a neat slice of chocolate cake on it.

“It’s for you,” You clarify when you see his wide-eyed gaze, “Unless you don’t like chocolate, in which case I’d need to disown you.”

“No, I…” He croaks out, before he clears his throat, looking at you with gratefulness, “I like it.”

“Good.” You nod with a satisfied smile, pulling up a chair so that you can take a seat opposite him, propping your elbows on the table, “I would’ve gotten you a drink, but that’s the one thing I don’t have any power over here.”

“N-no,” He shakes his head quickly, as he tastes a piece of the cake, barely resisting a moan at the burst of flavor, “T-This is enough…thank you.”

You wave off his thanks with your hand, before your smile drops slightly.

“Can I ask what happened?” You see him stiffen, and hasten to add, “Not about the bruises, I mean…you just look kind of sad and I’m wondering why?”

“I…” He barely resists the urge to bite his lip, knowing it’ll sting much more if he does, “I just had a fight with my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Shock filters over your features, before you smile tightly, “I didn’t realize…”

“She kicked me out.” He says flatly, and when he looks, you’re still staring at him, “A difference of opinions, I guess.”

“Oh,” You say quietly, before, “Are…you still together?”

“I don’t know.” He answers, just as small, “She said she didn’t want to see me until…well, she didn’t say when.”

He can see you from the corner of his eyes, a pinched expression that you struggle to smoothen out and, for a reason that even he doesn’t understand, he finds himself spilling it out.

“I don’t know what I even did wrong, this time,” He sees you stiffen in surprise, but he continues, needing to get it out, tired of having to keep it in all this time, “She just…she never tries to wait for a single second to listen before she’s yelling at me.”

He shakes his head, feels the tears of frustration stinging at his eyes, “I don’t even understand. I just asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner over the weekend, and she just started screaming about how I never think about her or her stress levels or anything.”

He closes his eyes, finds he can still echoes of her screams of fury, pelting him with rocks and shards of gravel, like a storm he can’t get away from. ‘Why don’t you ever think about me?’ she screams and Jungkook always wants to scream back, ‘What about me?’ but he can’t, can’t squeeze the words out of his mouth.

He feels you squeeze his wrist lightly, something unfamiliar in your eyes that he can’t recognize, for all of his trying.

“I know what that feels like.” You say honestly, and his eyes widen, “They start by telling you that you’re not paying enough attention to them, even when you think you’re doing everything you can. Later on, they tell you that you need to give them space, that you’re being clingy and overbearing.”

You sigh deeply, eyes glazed over, “I understand all of it. They feel like they’re being wronged or something but in reality…”

He sees you shake your head, “In reality, it’s us; we’re giving it our all, but they don’t seem to reciprocate.”

“I…” He stops, before he realizes that’s exactly it, and he sees you smile at him sadly, eyes fluttering rapidly to keep back the moisture, and he feels like his heart’s been wrenched out of him.

“It’s not something you should return to.” You decide, and even though Jungkook’s been told the same thing countless times before, he finds himself more inclined to listen, “It makes you feel bad and not worth it. Like there’s no one to love you, no matter how much you keep giving.”

“How…” He can’t even finish the sentence, feeling a lump rise in his throat, and it looks like you understand, because you squeeze his shoulder gently.

“I’ve got some experience under my belt.” There’s a silence, before you rise to your feet, “Okay, talk about a mood kill, sorry about that.”

You fiddle around with your apron, pulling out a notepad, scribbling something onto the flimsy white sheet and tearing it out before thrusting it into his face.

He takes it with shaky hands, tracing the gentle lines of the numbers in your handwriting, before it occurs to him that you’ve given him your number and that he can’t possibly take it because—

“Keep it.” You nod at the note, cheeks coloring, “I’m not trying to…y’know, or anything. But, if you ever need to talk to someone…”

You give a half-smile, “I’ve been told I’ve got a good ear.”

He nods wordlessly, hands automatically shoving the paper into his pocket, and he looks at you with a tiny smile of his own.

“Thanks.” He says, before he gets up slowly, “For…for everything, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He thinks he sees a glimmer of sadness in your eyes as you wave him away, but doesn’t think much of it as the door falls shut behind him.

It’s cold outside, he finds. He wants to go back inside, but he knows he can’t. Not yet, anyway.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him. The boy who’d stumbled into the café in the wee hours of the morning, flawless skin broken and colored with ugly bruises. The boy who, strangely enough, stumbled his way into your heart as well.

It’s not love, you know, it’s more a fascination. Especially with the tears building up in those strong eyes when he recalled the biting words that left him like that; especially when you remembered a part of you lodged firmly in him. Unwilling to believe the world could be so cruel, but fully aware of the last pinpricks of pain digging into your skin from your hope.

You wonder, sometimes, if that boy, with the tussled brown hair, is ever going to come back. And, if he is, when. It makes sense if he doesn’t, actually, because no one wants someone as dumb and overbearing as you in their lives anyway.

You sigh sadly as you finish putting back the last of the plates and cups in their rightful places, wiping your wet hands on your apron. You’re on shift again at the café, and it’s been a little over a month since you’ve seen him: Jungkook.

“I’m off!” You hear the other employee on shift, a kind-hearted man named Youngho, call from the front, and you dutifully shout a farewell as you approach the counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over for you?” He hesitates, hand still on the door, and you shake your head gently, waving him off.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry!” You laugh, shooing him away, “Go have fun.”

“If you’re sure.” He tips off his imaginary hat to you, before the door clicks shut behind him, and you’re immersed in silence once again.

“Where are you?” You wonder softly, looking at your hands as you sit down idly, “Jungkook.”

“Right here.” You startle dramatically, shooting out of your chair, and ready to hunt down a baseball bat to protect yourself when you see him and freeze, “Sorry I took so long, Y/N.”

Jungkook lifts his head and grins, face unmarred by anything, looking so unfairly beautiful after all this time that you can’t bring yourself to feel angry.

“Jungkook.” You breathe in shock, hands fisting nervously in your apron, and you blurt out the randomest thing that comes to mind, “Why’s your hair purple?”

He looks stumped for a moment, and for an excruciating few moments, you’re worried you’ve ruined something again, not for the first time, but then he laughs. And isn’t it unfair, again, that even his laugh sounds so beautiful?

“Because I dyed it?” He asks playfully, before his smile softens as he answers your unasked question, “Sorry it took me so long.”

You nod, mind barely able to function, but you remember to push him into a chair—the same chair as the last time you met—and run back to the kitchen to emerge with another plate of chocolate cake.

“If you’re hungry.” You say shyly, and he smiles back with red tinting his cheeks, “I mean, not that I think you’re going hungry or anything but, I mean, in case you are—” and ugh your dumb mouth, never knowing when to shut up.

He just takes a giant bite of the cake, giving you a thumbs up, making you stutter in surprise; before you know it, though, you can’t help but smile and sit down, opposite from him.

“How have you been?” You wonder, making him look up at you mid-bite, “I mean, it’s been a while so I was just wondering.”

There’s a silence as he stares pensively at the plate in front of him, and your heart catches in your throat.

“I took your advice,” He says finally, looking up with serious cocoa eyes, “I…I broke up with her.”

“And…?” Nausea threatens to overwhelm you at the thought that you might’ve made things difficult for him, all because you couldn’t keep your big fat mouth shut (yet again).

“I…” He concentrates for a brief moment, lips puckering in thought, before he blinks, smiling toothily at you, “I’m happy.”

“Oh.” You breathe out and that’s when it finally sets in, that you haven’t ruined his life, and you slump in relief, “I’m happy for you, then.”

“My friends kept telling me to do it.” He continues, making you look up in surprise, “But I never listened.”

‘Then why did you…?” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, but he’s the one making you so curious in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, taking another bite of the cake, before exhaling heavily.

“This,” You tense at his voice, “Is some seriously good cake. I didn’t get to tell you that before. The flavor just explodes in my mouth, you know?”

You stare at him for a moment, before what he said finally sinks in, and you giggle at how dumb he can be, just like you.

“Thank you for your opinion,” You say teasingly, “I’ll be sure to pass that onto our chef, sir.”

The two of you giggle for a few seconds about it, like teenagers exchanging their first dirty joke, before you let it rest.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner.” He says again, like he did when he first entered, “I had a couple of things to take care of, so I had to spend all of my time on them.”

You blink, “No, of course it’s alright.”

It occurs to you then, so you lean forward on your elbows challengingly, raising an eyebrow, “You could’ve called or just texted me though.”

“I…” He mutters something under his breath, blush decorating his cheeks and it makes you lean forward more, so that you can hear him better.

“What did you say?” You collapse back against your chair, though you do it with more force than necessary, and your chair’s teetering when he says.

“I was afraid.”

And you go tipping back, eyes growing wide, mirroring Jungkook’s, but there’s nothing either of you can do, so you crash against the ground with an oof.

“Shit, Y/N, are you okay?” There are hands helping you up—Jungkook’s warm hands, you realize—and you manage to sit down again, softer this time.

“Yeah,” You know you’re pink in the cheeks, can feel the warmth coursing through them, and you look at him quickly as he pulls his chair closer to you, biting your lip, “Why’d you say you were afraid? Afraid of what?”

“Oh,” He looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he says, “You caught that.”

“Of course I did,” You roll your eyes, before mock glaring at him, “Do I look that hideous?”

“No,” He says honestly, catching you off guard, with your heart stopping its steady rhythm, “You look amazing.”

“What?” You whisper in unabashed shock, hands shaking as they fist into your clothes, “Y-You don’t mean that—”

“That’s why I was so afraid to come back.” He cuts through your sentence, eyes determined as they meet yours, “We only met once before, but I was already hooked onto you, like you were a drug.”

There’s a pause, before he sheepishly says, “I mean, you’re obviously not bad for me like a drug, though.”

That’s enough to snap you out of your shock, and your heart’s pounding in your ears as you stare uncertainly at him, making him bite his lip anxiously.

“Jungkook,” You say hesitantly, “You said it yourself…we’ve only really spoken once and, don’t get me wrong, I really, really like you too, but…”

You find that you can’t finish the sentence and, deep inside, you know, this is the moment where he loses interest in you, when he decides someone who can’t commit quickly isn’t worth his time.

You pause in surprise when you feel your hands be surrounded in a comforting warmth, as Jungkook squeezes softly on them.

“I know,” He says instead of asking you to clarify, “You want to take it slow. And, so do I.”

He shakes his head, before looking at you with a shy smile that makes your breath stop short.

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Your hands go lax in surprise, before the tears sting at your eyes and you press a hand to your mouth, trying to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. He sees right through you though, mouth quirking into a concerned frown as the tears slip out, eyes wide and panicked.

“I’m sorry,” He says desperately, and this only makes the choking sensation worse, “I... I didn’t mean to make you cry…!”

You manage to shake your head.

“I-I’m happy.” You admit, teary, wiping at your eyes, before looking at him with a watery smile, “No one’s told me that before.”

“Well, they’re idiots.” He relaxes, giving you a brilliant smile, “So…are you okay with it?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, giving a teary laugh when he throws his arms around you, hugging him for the first time and feeling like it’s decidedly right, “I’m more than okay with it.”

“I’m glad.” He whispers into your hair, before he takes a deep breath, “Would like to go on a date with me this Saturday then? I’ll text you the time and place.”

“That sounds good.” You confess, and the two of you exchange soft smiles, “I’ll see you then?”

“Of course.” He turns around and heads for the door, before he freezes, and you frown in worry when he turns back around to face you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, worried he might have changed his mind or something, but he just shakes his head as his hands cradle your face, warm against your cheeks and oh.

He doesn’t kiss you on the lips, instead pressing his mouth to your forehead gently and stepping back.

“Now I’m good,” He declares, grinning at your flushed cheeks, and giving a tiny wave as he makes his way out the door, “See you on Saturday.”

“Yeah,” You echo smilingly, hand resting gently on the chair, eyes catching on the empty plate of chocolate cake he’s left behind him yet again, “See you.”

Written By: Admin Midnight (who needs to get a grip like srsly)

#bts #bangtan bookclub #kwritersnet #kreativewritersnet #BangtanWriters-Net #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jeon jeongguk #bts jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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hannahindie · 7 years

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Not What She Seems-Chapter 3: The One Where Sam Is Right

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters, although if I did, that would be pretty sweet. This is rated M for language, violence, and sexual situations, both consensual and not. The non-consensual will not be very graphic, but the rest will be eventual smut and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If any of that offends you, this might not be for you. I really have enjoyed creating Sebastian, and I hope that you guys enjoy it too…even if he is a grade A jerk. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Description: Sam and Dean finally see what carnage is being left behind and Sam makes a realization that Dean is not happy about. Sebastian lets his temper show, and Ava finds out more about Ben.

Dean had been quiet the entire drive. They’d barely spoken while they packed the car, and when Sam noticed the smell of alcohol on him first thing in the morning, Dean was quick to tell him to sit and spin on it before Sam even said anything. So, they’d spent the three hour drive to Wichita in silence. Sam had spent the time combing through reports to see if there were any patterns he’d missed the night before. The car slowed to a stop and Sam looked up to see they had arrived at the coroner’s office. Sam dug around in the glove box, pulled out two sets of credentials, and tossed one to Dean.

“FBI?” Sam nodded.

“Yea, Agent Tyler, sure are.” He paused. “Are you okay?” Dean rolled his eyes and popped a couple of aspirin and chased them with a mint.

“I’m peachy keen, brother. Let’s get this over with.” He strode off towards the building and Sam had to jog to catch up.

“Fine…right,” Sam muttered and Dean stopped short.

“You got something to say, Dr. Phil?” he snapped.

“What is your problem? We have taken cases with way less information and you’ve been fine. Hell, you’re the one that usually insists on it. Why are you being such an ass about this?” The muscles in Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep from tearing into Sam.

"Sam, I am tired. We have gone non-stop since the trials and the angels falling. Why does it always have to be us? Fun fact, it doesn't need to be. Yet here we are, chasing after some sick bastard that just kills for the hell of it. So can we just go in here, get this over with, and go home?" Sam looked like he wanted to argue but instead he shoved past Dean and into the building.

“You must be Agent Perry, ” the coroner said as he shook Sam’s hand and turned to Dean. “And Agent Tyler?” Dean nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, boys. I’m Dr. Jim Meade. This one is a doozy. Could use all the help I can get.”

“Well, we sure hope we can help. We don’t want to step on any toes, but six bodies is a bit of a body count to ignore.” Dr. Meade nodded.

“We have a decent department here, agents. They’re good at what they do. But this…this has been hard for even the most tenured officers. It’s been…brutal.” Dean cleared his throat.

“Have you ever seen a murder like these before? Could they be related to anything, a cold case or something?” Meade shook his head.

“No, sir, nothing like this. We’ve had our fair share of violence, mostly gang related, but even the one-offs can’t compare to these last six. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His voice broke and Sam glanced at Dean. The coroner cleared his throat and walked over to one of the slabs. A sheet covered it, and Sam tensed, knowing that if the seasoned coroner had a hard time dealing with it, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He swept the sheet back and Sam heard Dean groan. The brothers had seen a lot of violence, their own friends torn apart, blown up and tortured, not to mention what they’d been through and had to do. But nothing prepared them for what they saw. This wasn’t a monster randomly tearing into someone, or a ghost looking for revenge. The injuries to this man were deliberate. He had obviously been beaten; both eyes were swollen almost completely shut, his lips were both split, and the right side of his face was a rainbow of black, blue, and purple.

But it was more than that. The man had practically been filleted. And not just random strokes, but expertly made cuts that caused the most damage while drawing out the torture. Large strips of flesh were missing, exposing the muscle and nerves beneath. Deep cuts covered the flesh that hadn’t been removed and were deep enough to strike bone. He had been split open from sternum to belly button. Sam leaned forward to look at the wound.

“Was there anything missing?” Meade pulled the skin back further and Dean had to look away.

“Nothing is missing, but take a closer look. What do you see?” Sam stared for a moment, brows knitted in concentration. Meade gave Sam a grim smile when he looked back up at him, a mixture of confusion and horror on his face.

“Really? Did the killer do this?” The older man nodded. “Dean, you need to look at this.” Dean looked at Sam sharply at Sam’s casual use of his real first name.

“I don’t think I need to, it seems like you have it under control-” Sam nudged him forward, interrupting him.

“Look.” Dean sighed and looked down. He wasn’t well versed in anatomy, but he’d seen enough to be dangerous. Despite the roiling, uneasy feeling of his stomach threatening to rebel against him, he stared, trying to spot what was wrong with the gruesome scene in front of him.

“Isn’t the appendix supposed to be on the right side?”

“That’s not all. Every single organ is exactly where it is supposed to be, but on the opposite side. All the cuts were made with surgical precision and missed every major artery. Even the pieces that were flayed were down with an extremely sharp scalpel, and then were cauterized before he moved to the next section.” Dean looked up in surprise.

“You mean to tell me he was alive when this was happening? The entire time?”

“Yes, for a majority of it. I’m not sure how he managed to keep him alive while he switched the organs, but all signs point to him being so. Although it’s my professional opinion that he didn’t last long after that. The throat being slit seems to be an afterthought. I think Benjamin here eventually went into shock, and the suspect got bored.” Dean snorted.

“Oh, sure, get bored and slit someone’s throat. Jesus.” Sam gestured to a group of markings near his throat.

“Are those bite marks?” Meade sighed.

“Son, I honestly…I don’t know. I’m inclined to say yes, but I’ve never seen anything like it. That’s what is going on the report, it’s the only thing it could be.” Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“What about the girls? Were they tortured like this guy?” He shook his head.

“Not quite. Don’t get me wrong, they went through it. They’d been beaten, cut up, bitten. Each one seemed to get worse. The flaying and the organ swap were missing on all the women, but the last two girls were sexually assaulted, probably multiple times. Mr. Taylor had been bound, but more like to a chair or something upright a majority of the time. There was some rope burn and bruising around his torso and wrists. All five girls appeared to have been shackled to something while lying down. Their wrists and ankles were deeply bruised, but I believe he is using something soft, like leather cuffs.” He threw the sheet back over the body. “Like I said, you have your work cut out for you.” Sam smiled gently and Dean had to hold back a grin. He could always tell when Sam was getting ready to turn on the charm, those patented puppy dog eyes that almost always got him what he wanted.

“Dr. Meade, we need to get all the files you have for these cases, is there any way you could help us with that right now? We have some other interviews to conduct.” He nodded.

“Sure thing, son. It’s going to take awhile, there’s a lot.” Sam smiled in earnest now.

“That’s not a problem, sir.” Meade left the brothers, and before the door could even fully close behind him, Sam had flipped the sheet back again and was looking closely at the bite marks on Ben’s neck. Dean made a face.

“Dude, how? How are you not ralphing all over him? That’s disgusting.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Someone had to do it, and since you’re being such a bitch about it, I thought I might try,.” He covered the body back up. “Well, they look like vamp bites, but I don’t think they are. And you aren’t going to like what I think it is.”

“You’d better say human, Sammy.” Sam shook his head.

“I’d love to, but no.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“I’m getting real sick of you making me guess. What the hell is it?”

“I think it might be a vetala.”

“Rise and shine, Ava! It’s time to get some food in you!” Ava had to practically force her eyelids open. They were gritty and dry from crying, and all she wanted was to go back to sleep. Sebastian had laid the tray across her lap. On it sat a glass of orange juice, a bowl of oatmeal, and a small vase with a single lily in it. He smiled. “It’s not much, but I thought we should take it slow. You haven’t eaten in days.” He helped her sit up and placed a pillow behind her. “I hope you like oatmeal. I added honey and cinnamon…one of my favorites.” He settled in next to her and picked up a spoon. “May I?” Ava nodded weakly, sickened by the thought of him feeding her but so hungry that she forced herself not to care. He carefully spooned oatmeal into her mouth. Ava had to admit that it was delicious. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Delicious, isn’t it? It’s been…passed down, you could say,. Simple, but very tasty. He held the orange juice to her mouth and she grimaced as the citrus hit her throat. "Whoa, slow down.” He sat the glass on the tray. “Maybe we should have stuck with water. He smiled and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

"What happened to Ben?” Ava looked at Sebastian and he looked away, absently swirling the spoon in the oatmeal. “What happened? Sebastian sighed.

"You don’t really want to talk about that right now, do you? I thought we’d have a nice breakfast, talk a little bit before…” He trailed off.

“Before what? Why am I here and what did you do to Benjamin?” Sebastian looked at her for a moment, dark eyes narrowed. He slammed the spoon on the tray and shoved it off the bed and into the floor. Everything scattered as it hit the stone floor, glass shards and food going everywhere.

“You are determined to ruin this wonderful day I had planned, aren’t you?” he snapped. “Fine. If telling you will get it out of your system, then I guess we will just have to go out of order. But don’t blame me if you’re too upset to enjoy the rest of the day.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and to Ava’s surprise, it looked familiar.

“Is that-”

“Ben’s? Yes, I ran out of storage on mine. I’m a sucker for those Candy Crush games and selfies.” He unlocked it and began scrolling through pictures. “I adore this one.” He flipped the phone to face her and she bit back a sob. It was a picture of her and Ben on a recent hiking trip. Ben had taken it, his long arms the only way they’d both be in the picture. Ava was smiling at the camera, eyes squeezed shut as she laughed at something he said, her long blonde hair blown back by the wind. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Ava. His eyes shone as he watched her laugh, and Ava remembered never having felt so loved. “That’s happiness. I bet most people don’t appreciate that enough.” He turned the phone back and flipped through more pictures. “I wonder, did you appreciate it, Ava?” He smiled. “Here we go!” He turned the phone around and Ava immediately closed her eyes. Sebastian gripped her face tightly. “I will not ask more than once. Look.” Ava slowly opened her eyes, and the scene that greeted her was far worse than she could have anticipated. Ben was tied to a chair in their kitchen, just like in her dream, but was far more bloody and beaten. His head hung against his chest, and his arms, which had been tied when she had seen him, hung limply by his sides. They were covered in blood and she could tell that he’d been cut up badly. It was hard to tell if he was still alive in the photo, but for his sake, she hoped that he hadn’t been. She shook her head.

“But why? Why do that to him?” Sebastian began scrolling through pictures again.

“Well first, he hit me. Of course, he really didn’t do much damage, but it was annoying. And also it was just rude. Second, I wanted you. And boy, let me tell you, he did not like that. I even told him that we could share, but that didn’t seem to interest him either.” His face lit up. “I forgot about this one!” He turned it to her one last time. Ava felt as if she would be sick. Ben was laid out on a table, his midsection bare and bloody. Sebastian stood behind him, holding his head up by the hair, smiling his cold style, holding a scalpel and giving a thumbs up. He had taken a selfie with Ben as he laid there dead or dying. “Selfies, I told you! I can’t get enough of them. I guess technically it’s not, it was on a timer…you know what, that doesn’t really matter.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“I think I’m going to be sick, ” Ava muttered. She leaned over the bed and retched, the meager breakfast she’d had leaving just as quickly as she’d eaten it. Her shoulder ached as she leaned as far as her binding would allow, nothing but bile left to ride herself of. Sebastian looked at her with a combination of confusion and disgust.

“See, I knew that could have waited. I forget your kind have that unfortunate…function.” He grimaced. “Very unpleasant.” Ava leaned back and fought to catch her breath. She glared at Sebastian,.

“What did you expect? You killed…no…tortured and killed the one person that meant anything to me, and then showed me-” Her head snapped to her right as he slapped her, hard. She looked at Sebastian with wide, wet eyes. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Ava. It’s just…that’s negative talk. I supposed you don’t realize it yet, but I’ll mean something to you soon, too. More than you know. Maybe even more than Ben. I’ll explain soon, I promise.” He ran his fingers gently over the red mark his slap had left. “This will be worth it. You’ll see.” He leaned in and kissed her, much more gently than before, and sighed. “Now,” he said as he bent to pick up the discarded tray and pieces of glass, “I’m going to get you some supplies. Ava hated to ask, but he was looking at her expectantly and her face was still stinging from the last slap.

"What supplies?” He grinned.

“Drawing supplies, of course! I’d like for you to draw my portrait. If you’re very good and you do that, I may let you have a little more freedom. I’m sure that this room is getting a bit boring, isn’t it?” She nodded. “That settles it then. Behave yourself, and maybe we’ll have ourselves a little field trip.” She had already begun thinking of ways to use it to her advantage when he paused and looked back at her. “I’d be careful how much plotting you do while I’m gone. It’s going to be much easier to care for a child if you still have all of your limbs.” With that, he quietly left, and Ava stared after him with eyes wide, wondering what he meant.

@wheresthekillswitch @sassyspn67 @trexrambling

Chapter 4: The One Where Dean Is Taken By Surprise

#dean x ofc #sam x ofc #angst #supernatural #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #original character

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hell-and-pepsi · 7 years

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what is a tagged can you eat it

I guess I was tagged by @ilwinsgarden ? That was a surprise, people don’t tag me in stuff too often, thank you very much!

Rules: Answer all the questions, then add one of your own, and tag as many people as there are questions

1) Coke or Pepsi? I never drank coke in my life. I tried Pepsi once so I guess Pepsi.

2) Disney or Dreamworks? I’d say Dreamworks, especially since my brother is a huge fan of How to Train your Dragon

3) Coffee or Tea? Tea, in all forms and quantities - from a cheap-arse tea bag put in a bucket of hot water to exquisite brands prepared by the rules of the Chinese traditional tea ceremonies

4) Books or movies? First read the book, then watch the movie based on it. Never vice versa (except if the book is really crappy compared to the movie)

5) Windows or mac? Windows! Also doors. Illuminators. Ceiling lights. Ventilation vents. If you can punch a hole through a wall, that’s nice too.

6) D.C. or Marvel? Not a fan of either.

7) Xbox or PlayStation? Never had neither of them.

8) Dragon age or mass effect? I never played neither of them and I don’t even have friends that played any of these :(

9) Night owl or early riser? Early riser. If you can manage to, which doesn’t happen to often to me unfortunately.

10) Cards or chess? I can barely play any card games, I don’t even know the names of the card suits in Russian (but I know them perfectly in English because Homestuck.) So chess, even though I haven’t played chess either in a very long time.

11) Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate any time.

12) Vans or converse? I don’t care much for fashion so either is fine

13) Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar? Low Sorbian? Volapük? Or are those not weird language names?

14) Fluff or angst? Both. Both is good.

15) Beach or forest? Um. Have you looked at my username. Well, I guess you should just look at it again

16) Dogs or cats? Cats! Especially my cat, Sebastian. Though dogs are cool as well.

17) Clear skies or rain? Clear sky! I am basically a reverse vampire, I can’t live without a blue sky and a bright sun up above. Also, stars at night *_*

18) Cooking or eating out? I’m broke, so cooking.

19) Spicy or mild food? I like spicy. But honestly, it all depends on the ability of the cook. Mild food can be very tasty too if done right.

20) Halloween/Samhain or solstice/yule/Christmas? @ilwinsgarden while answering this question said that they don’t celebrate Hallowe’en in Czech Republic and I relate - we don’t celebrate it in Russia as well save for the occasional shop sell.

But here we go even more extreme - we don’t celebrate Christmas either! In the Soviet times the main winter celebration shifted to New Year’s Eve, and that’s what we celebrate mainly up to this day. Christmas is a religious holiday solely, and moreover, because Russia is mainly an Orthodox Christian country and not a Prothestantic/Catholic/Anglican one, we celebrate Christmas two weeks later than Catholics (January the 7th).

Actually, even putting cultural differences aside, I don’t like the themes of both holidays. The modern media has generalized and cheapened them so that Hallowe’en is merely pumpkin spice and costumes instead of being a spiritual day, and Christmas is merely presents and trees instead of an important Christian milestone. I guess I enjoy Christmas a little bit more.

21) Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? Uhhh, that’s a tough one! But I am actually often a little too cold (including today), so if I choose a little too hot perhaps it can cancel it out? :D

22) If you could have a superpower what would it be? There are so many choices! Super intellengence would be helpful. Teleportation would allow me to travel anywhere in the world for free. If I could create plant life or accelerate its speed of growth, I could end famine.

23) Animation or live action? Both have their perks. Currently I’m more invested in animation, but I would really like to explore live action movies and even create ones myself.

24) Paragon or renegade? Okay, so I learnt a new English word today! Paragon, huh. And as much as I love the sound of that word I choose renegade. I’m a rebel by nature.

25) Bath or shower? Showers are cooler and more eco-friendly, but when you’re tired all you want is a nice hot bath. So both once again, depending on your state.

26) Team Cap or team Ironman? Like I said above, I’m not a fan of Marvel.

27) Fantasy or sci-fi? Don’t make me choose like this! But when I was younger I definitely enjoyed sci-fi more, and I know there’s still a lot of classic authors for me to explore.

28) Do you have 3 or 4 favorite quotes if so what are they? Oh boy, you came for a treat. “Fears are caused by a lack of understanding. And in the world we live in, you have unlimited information out there. There’s no reason you should be afraid of anything” - Ethoslab, my most favourite Youtuber and Minecrafter ever. I don’t remember the exact episode, but I believe it was in his Let’s Play series around 390-410 ish, when he was building Sandy City.

“I mean, I know you want it to stay pleasant around here, but — there are so many things … that are so much better. Like silly, or sexy, or dangerous … or brave. And every one of those things is in you all the time, if you just have the guts to look for them.” - Bud Parker, from the movie Pleasantville. Go watch it. It’s a true piece of art. I watched it in my English class in detail and it was absolutely delightful and amazing and so, so true.

“I never let school interfere with my education.” - (incorrect, I think) Mark Twain. Sums my feeling about school perfectly.

“Every moment is the moment, and everything you lose, you lose forever.” - my teacher. He told us once to remember this saying very carefully, even if we don’t understand it fully, because there may come a time where it will be very, very true for us. It is one of those quotes that you do not memorize, but which memorizes you instead.

29) YouTube or Netflix? I don’t have a Netflix account and I don’t even know whether the site is available in my country. But I spend endless hours on Youtube.

30) Harry Potter or Percy Jackson? Look at my nickname and my avatar yet again... plus I never quite got into Percy Jackson. I think I only read one book. Its fans make cool fanart though, with many different ships.

31) When do you feel accomplished? When I do something that’s supposed to be “in my field” and I do excellent on it. Also, contrariwise, when I have to go through something I’m scared or unexperienced to do and perform well.

32) Star Wars or Star Trek? Okay, please don’t kill me for this, but I never watched a Star Wars movie in my life. I also didn’t watch Star Trek, but I relate to it a little bit more because I’m a fan of Doctor Who which is a show from the same time. Plus Star Trek is responsible for a lot of modern sci-fi tropes, its fans started the modern fanfiction culture (including the concept of shipping), and it’s a historical and innovative piece in general.

33) Paperback books or hardcover books? I don’t have a strong opinion of this, and I read books online mostly nowadays. In my experience, different kinds of books are more prone to being in a hardcover or in paperback. Both of those types can be very enjoyable.

34) Fantastic beasts or Cursed child? Seen/read neither. (I feel so ignorant while answering those... haven’t seen that, haven’t read that...) But from what I saw and heard, especially from my little brother, Cursed Child is a hectic fanfiction piece somehow gone canon (and Rowling had barely to do with it anyway) and Fantastic Beasts is, well, a fantastic piece of work. Also Americans got their own Potter movie. (like A Very Potter musical wasn’t enough)

35) Rock or pop music? My music taste is dictated by artist, not style. That being said, nowadays I have more favourites in pop than rock.

36) What is the most important thing in your life? Keeping close to my principles/morals. Expressing those principles and morals in one way or another, because I find it something important to show to other people. Trying to help the people I call my friends. Trying to make sense in this big mess of things we call the world.

37) Mountains or sea/ocean? Tough question again! But I guess I’ve been to the sea like, thrice in my life, and never been to the mountains, so sea/ocean.

38) How do you express yourself? Mostly in words and sometimes in action. But my ultimate goal is to create content through which I could successfully express my view of the world.

39) What’s the first book/film that really counted to you? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. When I was little I never cried at books at movies. But there was something in chapter 34 (where Harry has learn the truth about himself and goes to the Forbidden Forest to be killed by Voldemort) that made me shed my very first tear. The name of the chapter was The Forest Again, so, well, you can see how big of an impact it was for me.

40) What’s your element (air, water, etc.)? I want to be the Avatar! :D But seriously, I can’t really choose. By my star sign, Leo, it’s fire.

41) If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? Is “everywhere” an option?

42) If you had any job in the world, what would it be? A teacher in a school that is actually a good school. Not that those exist. Or a cartoon/anime/movie director/screenwriter.

43) If you were granted three wishes, what would they be? I guess all unlimited wishes hacks are banned, so:

1) World piece 2) Unlimited food to end world famine 3) Unlimited eco-friendly power source to end (most of) the world’s ecological problems.

44) If you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Pizza! Because you can put anything on a pizza.

45) What’s currently the most pressing issue on your mind, and what’s stopping you from fixing it? Is “everything” an option” [2]? But seriously, it’s probably my unpreparement for the uncoming exams and the search for my future career. The first one is caused by just lazyness and the boringness/objective unimportance of the exams, and the second time always takes time, naturally. So they are pressing, but at the same time I don’t worry too much at “failing” them.

46) What is your dream companion animal? A cat! Or a cool bird, like a jay or an oreole.

47) Raptors or songbirds? Raptor songbirds. Just imagine.

48) Do you think there is life on other planets in universe? “Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying. “ Arthur C. Clarke sums my opinion on this pretty welI

Woah, that’s a lot of questions! It also took me a lot of time to answer them, it’s super late for me now. Here’s my question:

49: If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, what would be some of the things that you do?

And I can’t possibly tag 49 people, so here’s just some: @polyglotplatypus, @kuufox, @artisticprotector, @cultureklub, @crap-iccioso, @glannniglaepur, @stefan-stefansson, @moonpaw17, @klavierr, @antialiasis, @johannesviii and basically anyone else who wants to do this. And if you don’t want to do it, of course you’re not obliged in any way. @ilwinsgarden thank you so much for tagging me once again!

#this was much fun!#tagged #tag meme #ask meme #personal

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