#but like...this is a former alcoholic who is currently sober speaking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginepirates · 3 years

Text

Pirate

For the anon who wanted a James x reader where they meet on the Pearl, but James doesn’t have the guts to admit that he’s falling for them. Later, (we’re pretending his death didn’t happen), they meet again at Shipwreck Cove, and James confesses his feelings during the battle on the Dutchman.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovyfluxie @wordsinwinters

~3760 words. Long again.

~~~~~~~

His hair hung in wet strings around his face. Whether they were matted together with water, alcohol, or vomit, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, though you suspected it to be a mixture of all three. A guard rail was all that kept him upright. He was a disaster, even for a pirate. Not that he’s a pirate, either.

The former Commodore looked a wreck. You would be, too, you supposed, if you’d drunk yourself into complete oblivion. And someone needs to take away that damned wig. Currently, it sat on his head much like some bird’s nest, and you half-expected a gull to land in it at any moment. Pity mingled with your disgust. There had been a time when his name alone had struck fear into you. Now, he was a pathetic image, unable to do so much as hold himself up on two feet. He couldn’t strike fear into a fly.

You were a bit surprised that Elizabeth, of all people, showed him no sympathy. Even Jack looked a bit repulsed, which was saying something, given that Jack himself was never in a prime state. He staggered upright, puking over the side of a railing.

You sighed, walking brisky over, snatching the wig off the top of his head and tossing it overboard. He looked up at you through bleary eyes.

“What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You look awful.”

“Thank you for your astute assessment.” Even drunk, his tone dripped sarcasm, and you were a little surprised.

He’s still in his wits, then. You looked him over again. Somewhat. “You look marginally less awful without the wig.” He grunted. You grabbed the bottle he was holding, too, and threw it over the side.

“Now that’s just a waste.”

“You need to sober up.”

“And who exactly are you, that it’s your job to police me?”

“You’re embarrassing, is all, and it’s no good to be embarrassed by crewmates.”

He snorted. “You should write to the admiralty. That sort of thinking would have spared me many of my own crewmates throughout the years.” He stared down into the waves, where his water-clogged wig had begun to sink under the surface.

“Well, you don’t want to be that person, do you?”

“At this point, I don’t particularly care.” His wig finally lost the battle, disappearing into the murky depths.

“Have some pride.”

“Pride?” He pushed himself up, looking coldly into your eyes with his own. “I’ve lost my title, I’ve lost my station, I’ve lost my livelihood. I have no house, nor family, nor friends. I’ve lost everything I ever held dear, including the woman I love, because despite being with her,” here he gestured with his chin to where Elizabeth stood at the helm, “I’m further from her than ever before. Now please, tell me again why I should have pride.”

If you were being honest with yourself, it was hard to give him an answer. “You still have your life, and for however little that’s worth right now, things could be worse. You could be dead. Take pride in the fact that you didn’t let things get that far.” He scoffed, but you continued. “Go clean yourself up; splash some water on your face, and do something about the vomit in your hair. Things can get better. Clean up, and you’ll be one step closer.”

He looked at you then, a vulnerability in his eye that wasn’t there before. Hope. He stalked off then, stumbling a bit, but trying admirably to, supposedly, follow your advice.

Norrington carried out his tasks admirably and without complaint, no manner how demeaning for a man of his previous station. He was watched with suspicious eye; but why wouldn’t he be? He had been a ranking officer, after all, and an effective one at that. Too many pirates had been lost to his scouring of the Caribbean. Just how far can you trust a member of the navy, former or otherwise?

The way he looked at Jack’s compass didn’t escape your notice. He knows. “Not thinking of stealing it, are you?” His neck craned to look up at you from his position kneeling on the deck, a wet cloth in hand. He stopped his scrubbing to glare.

“I’m not a thief.” He looked back down, returning to his task.

“You are a pirate.”

His head whipped up at that, jaw working in annoyance. “I’m not a bloody pirate,” he hissed.

“Then what the hell are you doing here? Top secret mission? I’m surprised you were chosen; I wouldn’t believe your fall from grace if I weren’t here to see it myself.”

Norrington was showing clear restraint, obviously wanting to hit you with something. You watched him breifly consider using the wash-rag as a projectile before deciding against it.

“Commodore Norrington. That was a name to fear, once.”

The ferocity in his eyes vanished, replaced by sadness, his gaze dropping from yours. “I haven’t been that man in months. I never will be again.”

“Good.” He shot you a questioning look. “It’s no use to be afraid of you. And, if what I hear from Elizabeth is true, you might learn to have some fun and not be so stiff all the time.” Offence flashes across his face, but you only smiled. “I blame high society. Welcome to freedom, James Norrington. I hope you get a taste for it.”

He turned to look out over the steadily changing horizon, a soft pink beginning to dust the sky. “So do I.”

The days wore on, and the crew steadily adjusted to James’ presence. He no longer ate alone, though he ate in silence, and the crew was more willing to interact with him. Elizabeth, you noted, had barely paid him any mind since his arrival. How she could be so callous towards him you didn’t know; you had expected her to at least talk to him, but she barely even looked his way.

Not that he didn’t look hers. His gaze would fall upon her, sometimes, while he worked, and there was a sadness there that tugged at your heart. He was confused, too, as to her treatment of him. He wanted, more than anything, to be close to her. Even if she could treat him like a friend. But she refused to give him even that much.

You were tired of watching it. “Come on,” you walked up to him, “let’s do something about that hair.”

“You haven’t grown tired of telling me what to do, have you?” he drawled. He was propped against a railing, eyes following Elizabeth as she walked across the deck above them. With Jack, you noted. So, it seemed, did James.

You sighed. “It can only get in the way, hanging down by your face like that.” You turned away, heading down belowdecks. He needs to get away from watching her.

James followed, pushing off the railing and heading after you. Good. You found a spot with a few barrels—full of apples, you assumed; you never had gotten rid of all of Barbossa’s cargo—that would be suitable for sitting on. You motioned for James to do just that, moving behind him.

You found yourself at a loss for words. What was there to say? You had little in common, and less that wouldn’t bring back poor memories for him. You kept silent, instead running your fingers through James’ hair. It’s longer than I expected, for a naval man. I wonder if he always kept it like this, or if it was close-cropped, once.

“What exactly are you doing?” He turned his head a little to look back at you.

“Braiding.” You separated his hair into three parts, beginning to twine the strands together.

You expected him to ask you why, or to move away, but he stayed put. “I haven’t worn my hair in a braid since the navy.” It was almost a whisper. Somehow, in the low light of the hull, it seemed appropriate.

You almost pulled away and apologized, but he went on. “I used to braid it to fit it under that damned wig. It could get so insufferably hot in the sun, though I was always glad to have the hair off the back of my neck. I don’t know how Elizabeth ever managed, in those dresses.” A soft smile sat on his face. “How did any of us manage, back then?”

You knew he wasn’t speaking of the heat. You tied his hair off with a small strip of ribbon from around your wrist. It was interesting, to see something of yours on him, and you stared at it a moment before moving. “You’ve always kept your hair this long, then?” You moved to a barrel across from him.

“For years. My mother hated it.” He smiled. “She told me it would be easier if I just cut it off.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” He looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself beginning to flush. “It suits you.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, you could see his cheeks turn pink, the color extending down into his collar. You sat in awkward silence a moment, James fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves while you looked down at the black deck. “A name to fear, you said.”

James was still toying with the cuff on his left wrist when you looked back up. “I think I like you this way better.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

You got up, moving to a barrel next to his. “I’d rather not fear you.” You grabbed his hand, taking it gently away from its fiddling. He scanned your eyes. “Like most people, you aren’t as terrifying as the stories make you sound.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“That you struck fear, even into the best of us?”

“I…” he trailed off. “It seems so ridiculous, that anyone feared me. I know I was good at my job—it was all I was good for.” He scoffed. “But I was so out of place in society…I always felt horribly awkward at all those social events. I was much more afraid of those people than they were of me.”

“You were like…” you wracked your brain for a parallel. “You were told stories about Blackbeard when you were a child, right?”

“Yes, of course. Upon reflection, I’m sure they were too dramatic to be true.”

“That’s how you were to us. You were a reverse Blackbeard.” James laughed aloud at that. “I can’t even tell you how I pictured you. Larger, maybe. Older. And with a horrible, mean beard that took up half your face.”

James smiled, and you found you quite liked the expression on him. “Am I as scary as the stories?”

“Not even close. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t want to meet the business end of your sword,” you added.

“Is Blackbeard as frightening as the tales?” James questioned. Then, more seriously, “Is Davy Jones?”

You sobered. “Aye, he is.” You found that his hand was still in yours—he hadn’t pulled away. “But it’s mixed with disgust. He isn’t human, anymore. It can be revulting. And sad,” you said, upon reflection. “I can’t imagine; losing your humanity like that.”

James said nothing, his eyes on your entertwined fingers. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Why do you talk to me?”

You shrugged. “There’s no reason not to.”

“That doesn’t seem to be the common belief.” He continued to rub gentle circles in the top of your hand. His fingers were calloused from years of hard work, but so were yours. He traced over your knuckles and each finger in turn. His brows furrowed. “It’s pity, isn’t it?”

You could see how disgusted he was with himself. “Some, yes,” you admitted. “But you’re not half-bad to be around. This was…nice. I haven’t had a quiet moment with someone in ages.”

He looked at you thoughtfully, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not half-bad either, for a pirate.”

You smiled, and he looked like he might say something more, but he stayed quiet, a soft smile of his own gracing his features. When he left, you knew he was in a better mood than when he came. I wonder if I’ll occupy any of the space in his thoughts that Elizabeth does. It was a silly thought, and you didn’t quite know why it came to mind, but there was a ghostly touch where James had brushed your hair aside, and you realized that you liked the idea of his thinking about you. Wishing for the attention of a naval man. Who would’ve thought?

~~~~~~~

The news about Isla de Muerta came hard. You had been anxious the entire time, confined to the Pearl on the account that Davy Jones could make an appearance, and the ship would need to be crewed if he did.

You weren’t prepared for the eventuality that James wouldn’t come back. You had worried, of course, wringing your hands with it, but you hadn’t actually thought…

You kept your tears for him to yourself. Nobody else was bothered—not even Elizabeth. A man she’s known her entire life, dead, and she has no sorrow to show for it. How can she be so heartless? It was as if nothing had happened at all. The crew ignored it; they were used to that, you supposed. Half your number had been killed by cannibles, after all. But even Gibbs seemed unbothered by the prospect of James’ death.

Only later did you realize that James had taken the heart. You didn’t believe it, at first, but slowly came to reconcile yourself with the idea. Elizabeth thought him a traitor. But was he ever really on our side? You thought back to your conversations with him. I like you this way better. It had been true. I’m not sure I do. That was true, too, and now he’d shown it.

At first, none of it mattered to you. He was dead, anyway. Slowly, you began to realize that Jones didn’t have the heart. After all, he hadn’t quit pursuing the Pearl, even if you didn’t have the heart. When you learned that the heart was in possession of Cutler Beckett, damn his eyes, your heart leapt with joy. James is alive! No matter the mood of Jack, or Gibbs, or Elizabeth, or the crew, you could only think of James. He wasn’t killed, then. He used the heart as leverage to secure his old position.

You pondered the thought. If ever you met him again, would you be afraid? Or would you just be sad?

~~~~~~~

Shipwreck Cove was just as you’d remembered it. Dimly lit, ships stacked one on the other, whispered conspiracies in every corner. Every sailor’s legend had its place in these ships. There wasn’t a legend that hadn’t been speculated within the fortress, and not a pirate who hadn’t chased them without.

You had fond memories of the Cove, but less fond memories of the Court. The Brethren Court convened on only the deepest of issues, and you still remembered some of their gatherings from when you were a child. It was loud, and there was no order, and the Court couldn’t meet without at least one death per session.

It was that way now. Jack toyed with the swords stuck in the globe at the front of the room while the other pirate lords surrendered the miscellaneous junk they deemed their pieces of eight. The end result was a dish full of random trinkets. Not that you didn’t understand; the idea that pirates obtained mass amounts of wealth was a myth. Most of the time, you barely had a shilling to your name. Working with Jack was especially non-lucrative, but it was certainly more entertaining.

Jack’s hand strayed briefly to the piece of eight at his temple. “Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

“Sao Feng is dead.”

You recognized that voice. You whipped around to see Elizabeth, clad in full Chinese armor, sword in hand. You smiled to yourself; she was always full of surprises.

The best surprise, however, was the man standing at her side. You mouthed James’ name, and his eyes locked on yours. He stepped forward, as if to greet you, but you were interrupted by further discussion of the Court. He’s alive, and he’s here, and I never thought I would see him again. You glanced over your shoulder. And he’s in full uniform.

The Court was chaos. Barbossa’s plan to free Calypso was not taken well by the others, and you couldn’t blame them. Your mind was preoccupied, focussing on the man somewhere behind you. You wondered if he had seen the relief in your eyes. Had he felt the same?

A hand settled on your shoulder. You turned to see James, worried eyes staring into your own. He pulled you back, leading you out of the room.

“James?” You felt your eyes beginning to water. “For the longest time, I thought you had died.” Your voice cracked, and you were unable to stop it.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only reached out to you, pulling you into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry.” His breath tickled your ear. “I’ve done horrible things.”

You held tightly to the back of his coat. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

He stepped back, pain blossoming across his features. “I know you can never forgive me, for what I’ve done. I can only hope you-”

The doors behind you opened, and the Court flooded out. The consensus is war, then.

~~~~~~~

The rain made it hard for you to keep a good grip on your sword. The Dutchman pitched and rolled under your feet, waves crashing rougly into the sides of the hull. Its mast, tangled with the Pearl’s, loomed above you, a towering dark figure in the haze of the monsoon.

These damned fish people. The Dutchman’s crew fought more viscously than even Barbossa’s undead pirates. Who knew starfish could be so angry? You feared that their weapons, often tarnished and jagged, would catch on your own and leave you defenseless. I should’ve stayed on the Pearl. But there are fish people there now, too.

At least you weren’t alone. Elizabeth and Will were with you, as was Jack, though he seemed to be having difficulties of his own. If you hadn’t been fighting for your life, you might have been more amused. You had lost sight of most of your crew mates. You were too focused on the eel-headed freak in front of you to give your fellows much thought. With your swords locked, you had no other way to grapple with the beast. It hadn’t occurred to you that the eel could elongate its neck, which was exactly what it did, arching forward to bite at your face.

A moment later, the head lay at your feet, the slimy body collapsing beside it. James was there, sword in hand, looking at you with concern. That, or he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes. You gave him a nod, stepping in closer.

“There are too many of them. We’ll never get to them all. Some of them are coming right out of the walls!” You both looked around yourselves at the endless numbers in the Dutchman’s crew.

“We only have to kill one.” James gestured towards the other end of the ship, where Davy Jones stood, lobster claw digging into the wood of the deck.

“We don’t have the heart.”

“But we both know who does.” James’ face was grim. “I should’ve stabbed it while I had the chance.”

You grabbed his arm. “No. You would be just like Jones, then, bound to this ship for eternity. You’d have no humanity left.”

“I’d be better than I am now.”

The comment broke your heart, but there were too many enemies around for you to focus on it. You slashed at a shark-headed monstrosity before James pulled you in close, stabbing something just behind you. Now isn’t the time for blushing. But James was holding you tightly to his chest, and you heard him shoot another member of Jones’ crew.

You hated to let go, but you had to duck under James’ arm to go after another, and another. Your back ended up pressed against James’, and you could feel each others’ heavy breathing.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this alive.” You had to shout to be heard over the thunderous racket. Between the rain, the gunfire, and the sharp clanging of swords, there was little room for words.

“It doesn’t seem likely.”

“You were trying to tell me something earlier.” Rain ran down your face in streams. “Now might be your only chance.”

James put a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “I wanted to apologize, for it all. I hope you’ll accept it.”

“Of course.” You grabbed the pistol from his side, leveling it at a creature behind his shoulder.

“You didn’t deserve what I did.”

You cupped his face with a hand. “I understand why you did it.”

“You were the only one who treated me like a person, then, on the Pearl.” He had grabbed your arm, keeping you close. It occurred to you that you were both going to die like this, paying too much attention to each other and not enough to your surroundings. “I can’t…” James took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but love you for it.”

You barely had time to process the words before his lips were on yours. Despite the storm, and the gunfire, and the clanging of swords—despite the knowledge that neither of you were going to make it out alive—the kiss was achingly tender, with so much softness and vulnerability that tears began to slip down your already soaked cheeks.

This won’t be such a bad way to go.

There was a sudden shuddering of the ship, and you and James had to cling to each other to keep upright. You looked up, only to find that the Pearl had broken away, her masts now untangled from the Dutchman’s.

You tugged at James’ arm. “We have to go. I think the ship’s going under.”

He nodded, and you found a loose line to swing over to the Pearl. The Dutchman sank not long after you hit the deck. The ship fell beneath the waves, sucked under by the storm.

“We still have to face Beckett.” James looked out over the water to where the British armada was advancing.

You could already feel some of the fight leaving you. How could you withstand an armada, when you’d barely defeated the Dutchman? “At least we have each other, now.”

James looked down at you. “Yes.” He cautiously wrapped an arm around your waist. “And after? If there is an after.”

You smiled teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind returning to piracy.”

James smiled back. “I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #pirate #pirates #james norrington #norrington #James Norrington x reader #x reader #self insert #potc fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #potc imagine #writing #writings

662 notes · View notes

ivyprism · 3 years

Text

The Skeleton Sisters' Diner AU (Rewritten)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Famine, Alcohol Abuse, Self-harm, Anxiety, Facial Scars, Fighting, also has some NSFW implications, and Big Difference from Original AUs.

Delilah - Undertale Delilah Takes place of Undertale Papyrus

Appearance: She has white hair (straight and midback) and blue eyes and appears to be human. She has extremely pale skin and has pink lips and a very muscular, but petite physique. She's 6'1". She wears this:

Personality: She is shy and sensitive, but she enjoys being the center of attention. She is extremely clumsy, but she is improving on balance! She is a chef at her sister's diner! She is bright and cheerful, but when it comes to it, she is becoming more outgoing and strong! She works hard to better herself and become a better and stronger person. She adores her alternate selves and will look after them if necessary. She is far more powerful than she admits and will fight anyone who disrespects her sister. She, on the other hand, believes in pacifism! She believes in the good of everyone, but shies away from threats when her sister makes it known of the dangers.

Theme: Fight Song by Rachel Platten https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbxNtPiCBK8&ab_channel=AweLyrics

Shelly - Undertale Shelly Takes place of Undertale Sans in this AU

Appearance: She has white hair (curly hair and shoulder-blade length) like her sister, but brown eyes instead of blue. She has pale skin and bags under her eyes. She has pinkish lips and has a knack for wearing makeup. She is 5'4". She wears this:

Personality: She is a joyous person, a little cold and distant, but she has a warm SOUL for those who need it. She suffers from self-hatred and apathy, but she is in therapy to address these issues. As a recovering alcoholic, she is currently on the road to recovery. She co-owns a diner with her younger sister, Delilah, and serves as its face. She welcomes visitors and is well-liked. She tells jokes for the sake of amusement because she enjoys making people laugh. Despite her calm demeanor, she has a fiery temper and a habit of causing serious harm to anyone who threatens her sister or her friends. She has instincts and will be hostile and cold to those she perceives as threats.

Themes: Sober by Demi Lovato and DNA by Lia Marie Johnson https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-_9VonfUko&ab_channel=YlovesMUSIC https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3NNFAuANDo

Blaze - Underfell Delilah Takes place of Underfell Papyrus

Appearance: Her hair is white (long and tied up in a ponytail), and her eyes are green. She has a small scar on her cheek, but it isn’t particularly noticeable. Her physique is muscular but petite~. She is extremely pale with a reddish tint to her lips. She is 6'3". She wears this:

Personality: She isn't as irritable as Captain, but she does have a temper. She is actually quite sweet, and she speaks quietly so as not to annoy anyone. She is well-liked by the majority of her community, but as the former Captain of the Royal Guard, she has a bad reputation. She doesn't mistreat her sister because she doesn't have to because her sister is tough and doesn't need her protection. She comes across as hostile and rude at first, much like a feral cat, but she's just really bad at feelings. She is not afraid to express her feelings for her sister and will never allow anyone to harm her sister, even if it means risking her life.

Theme: Undo by Sanna Nielsen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h77E8pL0f-M&ab_channel=SuperbLyrics

Cherry - Underfell Shelly Takes place of Underfell Sans

Appearance: Cherry has white hair (shoulder blade length) like her sister, but brown eyes like Shelly. She has a jagged scar on her lip. She is paler then average and has reddish lips. She often wears red eyeshadow or lipstick on occasion. She's 5'7". She wears this:

Personality: Cherry isn't afraid of anything or anyone. She is fearless and befriends both monsters and humans, as well as half-monsters/Mixed. She is self-assured enough to sit in the lap of a pissed monster because they will not touch her purely because of her sister. She's a flirtatious miscreant with far too much sexual experience for her sister. With sass and harshness, she bites. She makes up for her sister's lack of harshness and cruelty. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty to protect her sister and friends. She has insecurities because she is an emotional drunk at times and a depressed mess. She's dealing with her many issues in therapy like a champ!

Themes: Love is Gone by SLANDER (ft. Dylan Matthew) and Fuck Away the Pain by Divide The Day https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yctQRe–q6c&ab_channel=SLANDER https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0LMdGSBK-E

---------

Undertale by Toby Foxx Underfell by Underfell Fan (adopted by Fandom)

@okay-kioko @kiokodoodles @rainbowut @vrnicky @underfell-crystal

#underfell #undertale #the skeleton sisters' diner au #rewrite #two pairs down #many more to go!

49 notes · View notes

enby-prentiss · 3 years

Text

i like the way you're everything i’ve ever wanted

summary: penelope and emily are oblivious to the other's feelings. jj, spencer, and tara hatch a scheme to get them alone together.

warnings: drinking, gratuitous fluff

title from jump then fall by taylor swift

read on ao3

emily’s apartment was filled with giggles as the women of the bau - and spencer - drank together. penelope, being the lightweight she was, was already drunk and would likely stay the night. emily, despite her renowned ability to hold her alcohol, was also drunk and had clumsily moved to be closer to penelope early on, who was seated on the couch. unbeknownst to the pair, this girls night was different. jj, tara, and spencer were banking on this happening.

“we’re talking about vacations? guess where i’m going!” penelope was practically bouncing on her toes where she stood.

“hmm, to visit emily?” spencer said, a smile playing at his face as he looked between her and tara.

“yes! how did you know that?”

“because nothing else would make you this excited,” spencer said, amused by penelope’s excitement.

the kettle began to whistle and as penelope poured her cup, spencer and tara shared a knowing look. she shuffled back to her office and tara began to speak as she and spencer headed back to their desks.

“when do you think they’re going to finally get together?” tara said. spencer shrugged, “knowing those two, they’ll never figure it out without a push.” and as luck would have it, jj walked past as he was finishing his sentence. “who are we talking about?” she said, looking back and forth between the two.

that was the day they made a plan, and as penelope crept closer to emily, the remaining three looked at each other, silently cueing the others to put that plan in action. jj was the first to speak, standing up and making a show of stretching her legs. “it’s getting late, i have to head out. anyone need a ride?” spencer, then tara, stood up, each expressing a similar sentiment about how late it had gotten.

the three standing members looked over at penelope and emily, the former tucked underneath emily’s arm, a dopey smile across her face. her head laid right on emily’s shoulder, and emily could feel the grin on her face.

emily poked her arm with the hand not currently holding her, “hey pen, everyone’s heading out, did you need a r-” her words were stopped by the blonde shaking her head as she threw her arm around emily’s waist. “you guys can head out, thank you for coming,” emily replied, her face flushed bright red from the woman’s sudden display of affection. “thank you for having us,” spencer replied, followed by a “have a good night” from jj and a playful wink from tara.

as the door shut, penelope shifted to look at emily straight on but didn’t move any further. emily was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter as she turned to looked at penelope. “what?”

“nothin’,” she mumbled. “just so pretty…” she moved her arm from around emily’s waist and began to trace her facial features. she moved her finger around from her forehead, sliding over her jaw, then back up to her forehead, trailing her finger down her nose and tapping the tip. she loved emily’s nose. everything about her, really. she was still in awe of emily, just as much as she was when they first met.

emily watched penelope’s face, seemingly lost in the sight of her, and suddenly felt incredibly sober. the dark-haired woman held her breath as her friend’s finger trailed her features, taking her time with her soft and slow motions as though something might break if she moved any faster. penelope took a deep breath. she wasn’t planning on making a move but they were so close and her hand was already touching her face.

as penelope continued staring at the woman in front of her, contemplating her next move, emily decided she had waited long enough. maybe it was the wine talking, but she was done being scared. penelope was the sun, radiating warmth everywhere she went and emily felt privileged to even be in the presence of her light. her life was full of heavy and dark burdens she’d been forced to hold, and she longed to hold the sun in her hands.

she placed her hand over penelope’s, which had restarted its tracing of the unit chief’s face and brought it down, moving her free hand to grab her cheek. when penelope leaned into the touch, emily took that as a sign and leaned in to give her a quick and chaste kiss on the lips. she went to pull away and suddenly penelope’s hands were on her face and she was kissing her, really kissing her. as their lips parted and penelope began to kiss her neck, emily realized how right she was. penelope was the sun, and right now she was being swallowed by it as it expanded to wrap around her.

----------

the light shone in through emily’s curtains as she began to stir. emily had always been a light sleeper, but she had completely knocked out the night before, no doubt due to her alcohol consumption. or, they had knocked out, emily realized.

as she took notice of her surroundings, she noted a sleeping penelope clinging to her side, legs intertwined with hers. she was wearing one of emily's old yale shirts and a pair of sweatpants she'd left at her place. as the memories of the night before started to come back, emily made a mental note to thank her coworkers as she smiled and tilted her head down to kiss penelope’s forehead.

penelope, who was already awake, smiled into emily’s side before moving to kiss the dark-haired woman. when emily pulled away to catch her breath, she paused and looked at penelope. “will you-” the woman was nodding already. “yes. yes. absolutely yes, now shut up and keep kissing me,” she said, grabbing emily’s face with both hands as she kissed her with fervor. she had a miracle in her hands and she didn’t dare let go.

#my writing #penemily #penelope garcia x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x penelope garcia #criminal minds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #penelope garcia

17 notes · View notes

moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Note

Hello, i really really like your writing so i thought i could request an alfie one shot with 15 angst prompt and 4 humour prompt? It's absolutely okay if you don't want to write it, thank you anyway! (Could u also add me to you taglist? I wouldn't like to miss out any other of your masterpieces :))

Awe omg thank you! I’m so glad you like them! :)

Here you go love!

Wakeup Call:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Slight fluff, Alcoholism, Swearing.

Word Count: 1,287

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: Y/n comes to Alfie’s rescue after he has a little too much to drink one morning.

Requested by: @inglourious-imagines

“Hello?” You said, putting the phone up to your ear, anxious about who would be calling at 7:30 in the morning.

“Hello, am I speaking with Y/N Solomons?” The man asked.

“Yes. What’s wrong now?” You asked, knowing his mouth was probably getting him in trouble once again.

“You need to get your man in line. He’s acting a fool again calling the workers scum and lashing out at everyone. If you don’t come quick, I fear they’ll try to walk out again.” The man sighed as he waited for your response.

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as worry came over you. He was drunk again and you knew it.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Thank you for calling.” You said before hanging up.

You got dressed, quickly putting on one of Alfie’s shirts and tucking it into your slacks, and then putting on your winter boots and coat before heading out the door. You started the car, your hands shaking as you drove through the cold wintery morning, the roads icing over in various spots.

“Fucking christ!” You muttered under your breath as you parked and quickly ran into the shop, moving past the bakers and various on-edge workers. Your hands thawed slowly as you made your way up the stairs and into his office, not even bothering to knock.

He slowly turned in his chair and brushed his hands through his hair as you stood across from him, arms crossed and a disapproving look on your face.

“There you are beautiful! Aye! You came strollin’ in here nearly makin’ me take ya right here!” He said struggling to get up to make his way over to you. You rolled your eyes at his drunken comments before he engulfed you in a hug, reeking of whiskey.

You cringed and hugged him back, but soon shoved your way out of his embrace.

“What? Did I do summin?” He said slurring his words.

You sighed and rested against his desk.

“Alfie.” You said sternly.

“Whiskey? at 8 in the morning?” You asked smirking, pointing at the almost empty bottle on his desk. He followed your finger and stared at the bottle.

“Oh that? Yeah that’s what that is...damn good if you wanna try some love. Really. I usually save it ya know for business, but not today. Not today no...” He said mumbling.

“Sweetheart we talked about this before. You can’t get drunk so often, it’s making you bad at your business. Bad at handling your men and the others who work for ya...” You said walking closer too him, taking the shot glass out of his hand and placing it on the table.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n. You know full well I can handle my business an’ my men. Why did you say that? You’re really breakin’ my heart now.” He said raising his finger up as he talked.

“Look, I’m not here to insult you love. It’s just that you need to dial it back on the drinking for your workers okay? You’re turning them away with all your yelling.” You said stroking his arm lightly.

He walked away suddenly, grabbing his shot glass and staggering as he made his way to his office window, overlooking the rest of his business complex. You watched him, knowing he could go one of two ways. You saw him get angry when drunk but it was never towards you, so like today, you were the only one able to calm him down. Other times he was more loud and funny, letting his guard down that he held up so often. But today it was the former drunk Alfie. And his new assistant just so happened to come in without knocking, setting him off.

On better days he always tolerated you doing it because he loved you, but to anyone else he’d give them a look and say something along the lines of “Now what you’re going to do mate, is you’re gonna turn back ‘round an’ go out that door an’ come back an’ knock like a respectable fookin’ man you hear me?” but today was not that day.

He stormed towards the young man, yelling at him incoherently before slamming the shot glass on the floor, glass shards flying everywhere making the dark wood flooring look as if it was sparkling in the dimly lit room.

“Alfie! Stop! He just needed your help. See I told you!” You yelled, mouthing an “I’m sorry” to the young man and ushering him out. He was most likely coming to ask about a new shipment but that all left his poor mind as he shakily ran down the stairs and back to his work.

Alfie looked around at his mess and growled lowly as he grabbed the bottle off his desk.

“Alf-” You started to say before being cut off by him yelling and towering over you.

“You think it’s easy for me innit? Just telling them all what to do, where to go, hell I feel like a fookin’ babysitter! This shit helps me, so sorry if I want to take the edge off. I have enough of a time dealing with em’ an’ the blinders.” He said looking down at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the man you loved so dearly turn into a monster, yelling at new people, throwing things, and yelling at you which he never did. You knew that recently the blinders have been putting him on edge with some of their business, but you didn’t know that he was stressed out this bad. He never showed it when he got home. You stepped towards him raising your voice more than you have in a long while.

“You think you can keep this up but you can’t!”

You looked as Alfie’s face softened as he saw you crying, he took a step back and looked at the bottle of whiskey on his desk painfully, realizing what stress seeing him in his current state caused you. In silence he walked into the nearby restroom and stared at the brown liquid as he poured it down the drain. You calmed down and slowly walked in, putting your arms around his waist from behind as he breathed slowly, looking at his drunken reflection in the mirror.

“You know I love you right?” You asked.

“I know, I put that ring on your finger didn’t I?” He said. You chuckled as he turned around, looking down at you and wiping a stray tear from your face as you still embraced him.

“That whiskey is no more alright? I know you were just trying to help. I’ll admit I’ve been a little...angry. It’s just...hard.” He said.

“I know. But I’m here. Next time you’re ‘round the stuff you give me a call aye?” I’ll talk you down. You know I will.” You said lifting yourself up to kiss him.

“What’ya say we pick up on my offer from earlier or summin’?” He said.

“Oh about taking me here in your office huh? I’m surprised you remembered.” You asked, smirking up at him.

“I always remember. Now let’s get to it. Might sober me up what’ya say?” He asked.

“Alright, but you have to lock the door this time. No more intruders...” You said winking. He went to grab your hips, pulling you closer to him before you stopped him.

“We also need to clean the glass up, can’t have us both hurting ourselves now can we?” You said, releasing his hands from your waist as you grabbed the broom nearby.

He sighed, but slowly joined you in cleaning up, eager to get you all to himself after an eventful morning.

Tag List:

@inglourious-imagines, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @wowjeena, @tsolomons, @ta-ka-shi-ma

#inglourious-imagines #katiesrequests #peakyprompts #peakypromptslist #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshots #alfie solomons #alfie x reader #alfie x y/n #katieswiplist

114 notes · View notes

fluorescentpipedream · 3 years

Photo

Aidan Marcone - 1st son of Emma and Christian Marcone. Aidan is as much his father as he isn’t, if that makes sense....after a rough patch in his teen years he decides he’d rather go into business for himself than take over the family mob business and forms a side project with a handful of his friends. I think they’re into real estate and night clubs though I’m not completely sure. While in California for a business meeting he finds himself back in old trappings, with a woman he never stopped thinking about and credits with his desire to be better than the man he calls his father.

Carter Davidson - Carter believes in love wholly and fully though he’s never really had anything permanent. Willing to work as a boyfriend for hire, he goes by the name Giacomo Casanova though he will be anyone you want him to be, often creating a new persona depending on who he’s going to be working for/with. Carter sees the best in people, and often has a way of bringing it out through the genuine care and love he provides.

Casper Madsen - Casper is the principal of O Fallon Township High School in O Fallon, Illinois. He was best friends with Lily Barnes’ father and is actually her godfather as well and in that tries to make sure that Lily has everything she needs to succeed in her life. He tries to make sure the school is a safe place for all of his students as well and when he found out that two of the people working there were pedophiles he was mortified and disgusted, doing everything in his power to make sure they were held responsible for their actions and someone better was put in their place.

Corey Snow - finally looks the way he should. Corey is a pop musician, extremely kind hearted and genuinely loving to anyone that comes into his path. Part of this has to do with his mother’s raising to accept everyone for who they are inside rather than what you see on the outside (she has dwarfism and he had to deal with teasing when he was younger because his mom was a “freak”) Corey has been in love with the same person since he was a boy and the two have been together and are generally inseparable from one another. He loves Lillian (Lili) through thick and thin, she’s accepting of his bisexuality and seems to be okay with the few times he’s been with men (from what I’ve picked up he’s never actually had an official boyfriend, but has been with other men and there’s pictures of several of them on his private instagram. He has two of them, one he gives to fans, the other is for people he’s close to) Corey would do anything for her, and a good portion of his songs are about her in some way or another.

David Bournecelli - poor David. He’s been through a few character looks over the years but this one hit home. The only son of Liam’s youngest brother, David was abused by his parents and sequestered in a small mental hospital in Sicily where he was treated to horrendous medical procedures, possibly in hopes of triggering his change, though one can never be sure. I know one of the main ones was electro-shock treatment which has given him seizures and generally took away his ability to speak for several years of his life. David is known to bite, scratch and claw at people, even if they’re trying to help him. Most of his anger is that he’s 19 years old and trapped inside of his own mind with no way of getting out of it. He’s often found lying beside a large sheepdog (his uncle), and though he lashes out at people mostly beyond his own control, he doesn’t seem to hurt animals and is usually pretty calm around them. He likes being outside too.

Dimitri, Liam’s eldest son and the Alpha of the Bournecelli family seems to believe his latent animal form can be triggered, and that’s part of what would help him heal, though I’m not sure what he is yet or how exactly Dimitri expects to trigger it, except perhaps he may scratch the boy in his garou form and draw it out.

Liam Bournecelli - Liam isn’t a new character but he did need an update in appearances, like his nephew. Kind hearted, loving, stoic and calm, Liam is the oldest of his four brothers and the one that’s been the most undramatic. His youngest brother is David’s father and following his rather untimely death a few years ago, Liam was told about the nephew no one knew about being held in a remote mental facility in Sicily. When Liam rescued the boy, he was a mess, but the kindness he had in his eyes for the young man seemed to soothe some of the madness. Liam brought David to the United States to live with his ‘girlfriend” at the time, Sylvia Summers and to have him stay as a resident at the home she runs for children with disabilities. Liam has been in love with Sylvia for many years and after losing his first wife he finally sought her out, wanting to rekindle the love they’d had together once, if it was possible. Like most of the Bournecellis, Liam has an animal form as well, though his presents itself much like his personality. Fiercely loyal, but calm, sweet and loving, he’s a old sheepdog. When David is having a particularly bad day, his uncle lays down beside him in his dog form so the boy can still be close to something warm.

Jay Kulina - I’ve been fighting off actually making Jay for a while, he’s there and then he’s not there so I never know if he’s actually a character or an NPC type situation. He is Zoe’s eldest brother from Alvey Kulina, a former MMA fighter with a past heavy into drugs, alcohol, sex addiction...you name it he’s probably had a problem with it. After accidentally hurting his sister when he was supposed to be watching her, Jay was taken out of the equation by Alvey who told him simply, either he cleans up his act or he gets the hell out of her life. He sobered up for a while, got married and had a kid of his own, which seemed to help him for a while but it didn’t last, like so many things with him. His wife divorced him recently, her reasoning is that he was violent and abusive towards her and their daughter with down syndrome, his reason is that she’s a gold-digging cunt that didn’t want to put forth the effort to actually care for their son and he’s not making any money anymore so she wanted something else. He is currently fighting for custody of his daughter but with his current situation he’s not sure if A) he’s the best environment for her and B) if he can keep his head above water long enough to care for someone other than himself.

#Johnathan Tucker #Harry Styles #Sam Elliott #Henry Cavill #Gustaf Skarsgard

7 notes · View notes

jaxl-road · 4 years

Text

Better Watch Out

Motley Crue and Guns N Roses have a Secret Santa gift exchange. What could go wrong?

Pairings: Nikki/Tommy, Slash/Axl, Duff/Izzy

This beast is over 10,000 words long, just fyi -_-;

(Also on AO3)

~~~~~~~

“WHY are there so many people in our tiny ass apartment?” Nikki groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Axl scoffed, “You guys hold ragers in your ‘tiny ass apartment’ practically every night.”

“Yeah, but I’m usually wasted when that happens. Right now I’m sober.”

“That’s your own fault,” Duff smirked, taking a long sip from his water bottle that everyone was suddenly positive was not filled with water.

Nikki sighed as Tommy skipped over and patted him on the shoulder. Their dilapidated living room was packed full with the members of Motley Crue and Guns N’ Roses. It was late morning, which in Nikki’s opinion was way too early to be dealing with this many rockers in his apartment. Mick and Slash were sitting on the couch, the former looking annoyed and the latter looking calm and content (or in other words, high). Vince sat next to them on the back of the couch, glaring childishly at Axl who was sprawled across the armchair and looking far too at home in the blonde’s opinion. Izzy leaned against the back of the armchair, smirking in the direction of where Duff was standing, the bassist now casually holding his water bottle above his head while Steven tried in vain to snag it. Finally, still standing at the start of the hallway, Tommy threw an arm around Nikki’s shoulder to keep the dark haired man from returning to bed.

“Come on, Nikki, don’t be grumpy!”

“Have you met Nikki?”

“This is gonna be fun!” Tommy grinned, ignoring Slash’s comment, even as Nikki flipped the guitarist off. “Steven had the best idea, so I invited them all over!”

“Ah fuck, the drummers are responsible for this?” Mick leaned his head back dramatically to stare at the ceiling, “This is going to be more annoying than I thought.”

Steven laughed, moving to stand by Tommy and Nikki, “If by ‘annoying’, you mean FUN!”

“I do not.”

“Anyway,” Steven clapped his hands, “We’re gonna do a Secret Santa!”

There was a long pause as all eyes stared at the blonde drummer and processed his words.

Then they all started talking at once.

“What?” Nikki exclaimed.

“Oh Hell no,” Mick muttered.

“Oh Hell YES!” Slash countered.

“Presents? Presents!” Vince’s eyes lit up, “Gimme pretty things! Whoever gets me I have a list for you!”

“This is going to blow up spectacularly, and honestly I’m down for it,” Duff shrugged.

Izzy sighed and leaned his head on his hand, “See I’m torn. I want to watch the chaos, but I don’t want to be involved in the chaos. Dilemmas, dilemmas.”

Axl leaned back, letting his head hang over the arm of his seat. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed at Steven, “I will agree on ONE CONDITION.”

The attention of the room shifted to the red-head. Steven cocked his head curiously, “What?”

“We do this game on hard-mode.”

“I’m going to regret asking,” Mick sighed, “but what’s hard-mode?”

Crossing his arms, Axl answered firmly, “No giving drugs or alcohol as a gift.”

Immediately, there was a riot.

“Oh COME ON!”

“But I WANT drugs and alcohol!”

“These fuckers’ entire personality is based around drugs and alcohol, what the fuck else am I supposed to get them?”

“If I don’t get Vodka, Christmas is cancelled.”

“You can’t just-”

“Izzy, take Christmas away from Axl!”

“It’s cute you think I have any power over him.”

“Hey! HEY!” Tommy shouted, finally getting everyone’s attention and putting a stop to the bickering. “Look, I love drugs as much as the rest of you, but I have to admit, I think it’s a good idea,” he rolled his eyes when several people groaned in response, “It makes it more of a challenge!”

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually the group reluctantly conceded, Axl smirking victoriously. With the rockers appeased, Steven pulled a top hat out of seemingly nowhere.

Slash sat up straight and glared, “Hey! I’ve been looking for that!”

Ignoring him, Steven tossed about the small pieces of paper inside the hat, “Okay, we’ve got everyone’s names written down, so take one and pass it. And no peeking!” As the names got passed around, Steven continued, “So, I don’t think we need a price limit, cause we’re all pretty broke.”

“We know, but hey!” Vince muttered as he took the hat.

“How about we meet up for the exchange one week from today?”

“At your place, next time,” Nikki huffed.

Axl shrugged, “Whatever, fair enough.”

“Cool,” Nikki nodded, “Now get the fuck out of our apartment.”

~~~~~~~

Izzy would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been on board with the whole Secret Santa thing at first. He didn’t dislike Christmas or anything, but he wasn’t a hugely festive person either. So the idea of partaking in a theoretically light-hearted game with a group of hardrockers didn’t exactly appeal to him.

That is, until Duff came home the next day with an armful of Christmas lights.

“Woah,” Slash chuckled as the bassist walked past with strings of lights trailing behind him, “what, did you rob Whoville or something?”

Grinning, Duff opened his arms to let the mass of lights fall onto the ground in the middle of the living room, “I will neither confirm nor deny where I got these.”

“Fuck yeah, I didn’t think we were gonna decorate the place!” Steven smiled excitedly.

Shrugging, Duff looked away, a touch of embarrassment on his face, only noticeable if you were looking (and Izzy was always looking), “I dunno, I wasn’t planning to at first. I never really got into the holidays, even when I was younger. But since we’re doing the Secret Santa thing with the Crue, I figured, why not?”

He smiled so shyly, and Izzy’s heart fluttered.

That was when he realized that he’d been handed the perfect opportunity. Izzy had been crushing on the tall blonde for awhile now, much to Axl’s amusement and Izzy’s torment. But he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and everytime he had Duff’s full attention he forgot every word he had ever practiced in front of the mirror and ended up chickening out and running away to get high (he’d also tried getting high first, but the results were the same).

So maybe, giving Duff a gift was the perfect way to try to confess his feelings; a way to help take some of the pressure off his words.

And watching Steven and Slash wrap the lights around Duff, seeing him twirl and laugh when they plugged them in, looking at the way the lights reflected in his eyes and illuminated his smile, Izzy knew he was going to need all the help he could get.

~~~~~

If Nikki was going to participate in this Secret Santa bullshit (and not even get any coke out of it) then he was going to fucking give a gift to Tommy and no one else. He had already been trying to psych himself up to do some sort of romantic holiday shit, but the game with the two bands provided a perfect opportunity. The only thing standing in his way was the name scrawled on the scrap of paper in his hand.

Izzy

Leaning heavily on the kitchen table, Nikki steeled himself for the trip he was about to make. It wasn’t like he could judge Guns N’ Roses for their living situation, given the squalor Motley Crue currently called a home, but it always felt weird seeing them by himself. He didn’t like being outnumbered.

But from what he could tell, neither Vince nor Mick had Tommy’s name (if they did, they’d be teasing him incessantly)(he still didn’t understand how his feelings managed to be so blatant to Vince and Mick while still going right over Tommy’s head). So that meant someone in the other band had his drummer’s name, and he was going to get it if it was the last thing he did.

~~~~~

It was weird for anyone to knock on their door when the sun was still out, Slash thought as he cautiously made his way to the entrance. Cracking the door open, wondering if any of the idiots he lived with had done anything worth a house visit from the cops lately, he was instead met with the wild black hair and smudged eyeliner of none other than the very person he was tasked with finding a gift for.

“Oh,” the guitarist blinked in surprise, opening the door wider, “What’s up Sixx? Wasn’t expecting you.”

“No one ever expects me. My presence is either surprising or disappointing, but never anticipated.”

Rolling his eyes, Slash moved aside to let the other man inside, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you drama queen.”

“I don’t think you can call me a drama queen in good faith when you live with fucking Axl.”

“You got me there,” he chuckled, “But seriously, what brings you to our humble Hell House?”

Sighing heavily, Nikki cut straight to the chase, “Did you get Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

Slash raised an eyebrow, “I thought this thing was supposed to be, you know… secret?”

“Oh fuck off,” Nikki huffed, “No one in Crue has it, which means someone here does, and I fucking want it.”

“Why?”

“…Cause.”

“Ooooooh,” a slow grin spread on the guitarist’s face, “I get it.”

“Don’t-”

“You’ve got a cru~ush~” he sang teasingly.

“Shut up!” Nikki shoved him lightly, his cheeks reddening as he scowled.

Slash laughed, “Okay, okay, jeez! To be honest I assumed you guys were already a thing. Like, sometimes I can’t tell where one of you ends and the other begins. It’s super gross.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Oh please, you and Axl are always fucking hanging off each other.”

Sputtering, Slash gaped, “We do not!”

Blinking, Nikki raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Holy shit. Don’t tell me you two aren’t actually a couple.”

“Keep your voice down, he’s in the other room!”

“Holy shit! And you were fucking with me about Tommy!”

“Shhhhhh!” Slash covered the bassist mouth with his hands, “Okay, alright, we’re both lovesick idiots. I’ll tell you who has Tommy’s name and then we can both never speak of this again, deal?”

Smirking, Nikki pushed his hands away, “Deal.”

Nodding, Slash crossed his arms, “I heard Axl complaining about having to shop for ‘fucking sunshine drummers’.”

“Let’s be real, that could mean Tommy or Steven,” Nikki pointed out.

Slash shrugged, “If it had been Steven he wouldn’t have kept his voice down.”

“You know what? That’s fair.” Nodding decisively, he turned to walk into the next room, “Thanks man.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Turning the corner, Nikki found himself in a small, dingy kitchen, empty save for the red-headed singer sitting on the counter. He was kicking his legs back and forth, a mug in one hand and a book in his lap. He looked so peaceful and innocent, but Nikki knew better than to let his guard down around the little terror.

Point made when the singer’s head snapped up as he entered, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, Rose.”

Axl’s only response was to quirk an eyebrow, so Nikki sighed, “Look, I need a favor.”

That made Axl’s eyes light up in interest, “Oh?”

Yeah, Nikki was gonna be fucked. Asking Axl for a favor was like making a deal with the devil. But, well, desperate fucking times and all. “Yeah,” he glanced away, “I heard you got Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa. Is that true?”

“Maybe,” Axl drawled, placing his mug and book to the side so he could lean forward and give Nikki his full attention, “What of it?”

“I want to trade.”

“Hm,” the singer considered for a minute. Finally he jerked his head at the bassist, “Whose name did you get?”

“Izzy,” he replied, “He’s like, your best friend, right? So it’s perfect.”

Axl snorted, “I don’t like him that much.” He tilted his head side to side as he thought. Nikki held his breath, hoping to God that this could just be simple. But when Axl grinned slowly at him, he knew that he’d have no such luck.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offered, “I’ll give you Tommy, if you get me Slash.”

For a long minute, Nikki could only blink. Finally, he deadpanned, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” If he wasn’t certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot, he’d just drag Slash in here right now and tell them to bang or whatever. But he was, in fact, certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot. So.

“That’s my offer, take it or leave it,” Axl shrugged.

Goddamn pining idiots. “Ugh, fine!” Nikki threw his arms up in exasperation. He was pretty sure he knew who had Slash’s name, but it was going to be annoying as fuck.

Axl snickered as he stomped out of the house, shoving past Steven without a word. “What was that about?” The drummer questioned.

“Oh, you know,” Axl grinned, “just the holidays, bringing people together.”

~~~~~~

Izzy sighed from his spot outside the liquor store, pulling his jacket tighter around his body as he took a long drag from his cigarette. The slip of paper with Mick written on it weighed heavy in his pocket. He’d been eavesdropping on his bandmates, and as far as he could tell none of them had Duff’s name. The idea of trekking over to Motley Crue and asking one of them to trade made him wince.

Speak of the devil though. As he ground his cigarette under his heel, he saw a tall, curly haired drummer make his way over.

“Oh! Hey Izzy!” Tommy grinned, “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah,” Izzy shrugged, “Just grabbing a couple things. Too lazy to go all the way to the market.”

“I know that feeling,” Tommy laughed.

Eyeing him carefully, Izzy tried to keep his voice casual as he asked impulsively, “So, how’s the Secret Santa shopping going?”

To his surprise, Tommy’s face fell a little, “Oh, it’s fine. I don’t really know what to get them though,” he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled to himself, “I was kind of hoping to get a different bassist…”

No fucking way.

Izzy gaped for a moment. What were the odds? He never got this lucky! “You got Duff?” He blurted out.

“Ah, fuck, it’s supposed to be a secret,” Tommy floundered.

“No, no, it’s cool!” Izzy was quick to calm him, “You want Nikki’s name, right?”

“Yeah,” the drummer admitted. Then he lit up, “Do you have his name?”

“Well, no…” Izzy confessed, “But, I was hoping to get Duff. So maybe we could…?” He trailed off, looking at the taller man expectantly.

Looking at the drummer though you’d think Izzy just kicked his puppy, “I really want Nikki though. He like, never celebrated Christmas, and sometimes the holidays make him sad, and I don’t want him to be sad, so I just want to get him something special, y’know?”

Yes. Izzy did know, because he was in a very similar situation. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Right. Okay. If I can get Nikki’s name though, you’ll trade with me?”

Perking back up, Tommy nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely, dude!”

Nodding firmly in response, Izzy agreed, “Alright. It’s a deal.”

~~~~~~~~

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pleeeeeeease?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mick slammed his magazine down, glaring at the bassist across from him, “Why the fuck do you want to trade so bad?”

“Because,” Nikki whined, “Why do you even care? You’re probably just going to get something generic no matter whose name you get.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Mick insisted.

“Come on, do you really want to deal with me annoying you over something that you couldn’t care less about? For that matter, do you really want me to bug you with all the bullshit details of why I need Slash’s name?”

“Fuck,” the guitarist muttered, even as he moved to rummage through his pockets, “I’ve been spending too much time around you crazy fuckers, ‘cause you’re starting to make sense.” He slapped the paper down, snatching the one Nikki offered in exchange, “You still owe me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” Nikki grinned, jumping from his seat and running for the door, “Thanks, man!”

“Fuck you.”

~~~~~~~~

The club was packed, bodies pressing together and jumping to the beat of the loud, angry music. Slash sat at the bar with Duff and Axl, Steven and Izzy running late. Guns N Roses didn’t see Motley Crue perform too often, but apparently Nikki needed to meet up with Axl because of their Secret Santa bullshit, and the others tagged along out of habit. Slash figured it might give him some inspiration for what to get the bassist, anyway. The petty part of him wanted to tell him that directing him to Tommy’s name was his gift, but that felt cheap even for him.

But what the fuck did Nikki Sixx want, other than drugs and to fuck his drummer?

The crowd cheered loudly as the four rockers finished their set, making their way off stage as the next band began to set up. Axl chugged the rest of his drink, nodding at the others as he made his way towards the stage, presumably to meet up with Nikki. He and Duff chatted for a bit until the bassist was distracted by the bartender blatantly flirting. Slash rolled his eyes. He knew without a doubt that the tall blonde only had eyes for one person, but he was also the king of playing it up to get free drinks and, well, no one could fault him for that.

“Hey Slash!”

Turning at the sound of his name, he grinned as Tommy and Vince stumbled over to him, “Hey guys! Great show!”

“Thanks!”

“Hang on, I think I see a challenge,” Vince grinned deviously, abandoning Tommy and Slash in favor of competing with Duff for the bartender’s attention.

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement, “That’s not going to end well.”

Tommy laughed, swaying from alcohol or coke or both as he leaned against the bar and pushed sweaty curls out of his face, “Vince will be fine. If this doesn’t work out he’ll find another chick and be right as rain,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, and I don’t think Duff will be heartbroken either.”

Sighing heavily, Tommy nodded, “Yeah, Duff’s a cool guy.” Biting his lip, he glanced away almost guiltily, “I feel bad for trying to trade his name away for the Santa thing…”

Slash blinked in surprise, “You got Duff?”

“Oh, Goddamn it!” Tommy exclaimed, “I am so bad at this fucking secret thing…”

Laughing, Slash patted his shoulder consolingly, “Hey man, it’s no biggie. Whose name are you trying to get, anyway?” He had a feeling he already knew.

Sure enough, Tommy sighed dreamily, “Nikki. He’s so great, y’know? And I just want to give him something special and nice so he knows I…. y’know,” he waved his hand vaguely.

Snorting, Slash reached into his pocket, “Oh, I know,” holding a hand out, Slash took pity on the kid. What could he say? The Terror Twins were fucking adorable. No matter how much he teased Nikki, he honestly didn’t mind helping them along.

Tommy blinked in confusion as he took Slash’s offering. When he saw what it was, his whole face lit up, smiling so wide it was practically blinding, “Dude! Seriously?!”

“Yup,” He motioned with his hand, and Tommy scrambled to give him his own paper, “Tidings of joy or whatever bullshit. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Seriously, dude, you’re the best!” Tommy wrapped the guitarist in a bone crushing hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Yeah, it’s cool, really, please, I can’t breath.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy and Steven made it to the club during Motley Crue’s last song. Izzy had stopped by the house to change after working, finding Steven asleep on the couch. After shaking him awake (the drummer had completely forgotten about the group’s evening plans) they both made their way to the venue.

Despite snooping around, Izzy could not figure out who had Nikki’s name. He was starting to think someone from Crue must have it, or worse, Duff, which would make for an awkward affair if the blonde wanted to know why he wanted to trade. So he made up his mind to just grovel to the best of his ability and get Tommy to trade with him anyway.

The crowds, mixed with the loud music and the flashing lights made it hard to find anyone. Izzy and Steven eventually got separated, and he ran into Vince, who was too busy cozying up to a busty brunette to pay him much mind. For the first hour or so, he drifted around the floor, listening to the current band, occasionally snagging freebies from the rare fans who recognized him. Tired, and assuming that the Crue had already made their way back to their apartment for an afterparty, he made his way to the bar. As soon as he arrived, he flagged down the bartender and took two shots in quick succession, impatient to get a pleasant buzz going.

Looking across the bar, he finally found familiar faces. Duff was obviously well on his way to wasted, laughing at something with Axl, Slash, and Steven. Quickly slipping over to them, his bandmates greeted him enthusiastically.

“Izzy! We were wondering where you disappeared to!” Steven exclaimed.

“We missed you, buddy!” Duff grinned and slung an arm around Izzy’s waist and okay, screw Tommy, he wasn’t moving from this spot for the rest of the night. He pointedly ignored Axl’s knowing look and the conversation picked back up, the five friends laughing cheerfully and Duff’s hand warm on his hip.

He’d deal with the Secret Santa thing tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was not supposed to be this hard.

Nikki had been wracking his brains on what to get Tommy. It needed to be something heartfelt, something Tommy would understand was supposed to be special, but still simple enough that he could give it to the drummer in front of the two bands. Ultimately, he decided that something homemade would be perfect- Tommy would lose his shit over Nikki putting actual time and effort into his gift.

That was how Nikki found himself in Motley Crue’s kitchen at 10am trying- and seriously, emphasis on trying- to bake cookies.

He had a limited window where he had the apartment to himself, and immediately took advantage of it. Baking supplies had been hidden in his room for the last day to keep the others from giving him shit or finding out his plan. The bag of chocolate chips had a recipe on the back, and Nikki could fucking read, so he figured it’d be easy.

The problem started when he realized that while he had purchased ingredients, he had forgotten to consider that their apartment was almost completely devoid of actual baking equipment. The biggest ‘bowl’ they had was an old metal pot, and he was forced to stir with a soup spoon.

Measuring was also tricky, since he hadn’t even thought about picking up measuring cups or anything. But hey, how hard could it be to eyeball it? They had cups, he could fill it halfway just fine.

Judging by the smoke coming out of the oven, it was not fine at all.

Sighing in frustration, Nikki scraped the paper thin and charred pastries into the sink. He had his fingers crossed for the next batch, saying a quick prayer to whoever was listening as he scooped them sloppily and slid them into the oven, not bothering to wait for the single sheet pan they owned to cool down.

He was standing impatiently in the middle of the kitchen when someone pounded on the door. Furrowing his brows, he didn’t know who to expect. People usually only knocked if they were there about a noise complaint, but the apartment was currently silent.

Opening the door, he was faced with a tired and hungover looking Izzy Stradlin.

The bassist had barely opened his mouth before Izzy was cutting him off, “I just need to talk to Tommy real quick.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nikki crossed his arms, “Why?”

“Because,” he ran a hand over his face, “Look, can I just-” he stopped suddenly, finally taking in the man in front of him, “Why the fuck are you covered in cocaine?”

Blinking in confusion, Nikki looked down at himself before sighing at the sight of his flour covered shirt, “It’s not cocaine. You know I’d never waste coke like this,” he gestured at himself.

“Then what-” Izzy paused again, this time his eyes widening as he glanced over Nikki’s shoulder, “-the FUCK is going on in your kitchen?!”

Spinning around, Nikki cursed loudly at the sight of black smoke wafting from the other room. Sprinting to the oven, he threw the door open, coughing when a wave of smoke billowed out. He snatched a dish towel and recklessly grabbed the tray of cookies, throwing the whole thing into the sink. Izzy, who had run up behind him, quickly reached over and flipped the faucet on, steam mixing with the smoke until the entire kitchen was in a haze.

Both rockers coughed and sputtered, waving their hands around their faces. “What the actual fuck, dude!” Izzy cried incredulously, “Were you cooking meth or something?”

Groaning, Nikki dropped his head onto the counter roughly, letting his hair hide the tears of frustration that threatened to well over, “I fucking wish.”

Glancing around the disaster zone of the kitchen, Izzy slowly pieced together what had happened, “Were you… baking?”

“Well I was trying!” Nikki shouted, tugging at his hair and still face down on the counter, “But I’m such a fuckup I can’t even do something as simple as make a fucking batch of fucking cookies without it literally going up in fucking flames!”

Okay, so Izzy definitely had not anticipated this when he came over. Hesitantly, he reached out to pat Nikki awkwardly on the back, “Um. There, there?” He glanced around helplessly, “Where the fuck is the rest of your band, maybe one of them could help with…”

“They’re not here right now,” Nikki finally straightened up, looking utterly miserable, “Vince is shacking up with whatever girl of the week he’s got, Mick is dealing with his ex, and Tommy’s at work.”

Izzy took a deep breath through his nose, trying to resist tearing his hair out, “Right. Okay, I’ll… make you a deal,” he grit out. How many fucking deals was he going to have to make this week?

“What?” Nikki mumbled.

“I’ll help you salvage your baking project if you tell me where Tommy works so I can fucking talk to him.”

“Really?” the bassist looked at him wide eyed and hopeful, “You’ll help? And not fucking tell anyone?” he tacked on with a glare.

“Yes, yes, whatever, let’s just do this so I can get out of here,” he looked around, “Where are your measuring cups?”

“Um…”

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose. Lord have mercy.

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

Steven hummed to himself from his spot laying on the couch in their living room. In his pocket was a scrap of paper with Axl scrawled on it. The drummer wanted so badly to get him something good- the singer was his best friend! Well, okay so maybe he considered all the members of Guns N’ Roses his best friend. And okay, maybe there was room for him and Axl to be better friends, but that was why this Secret Santa gift was important! It was a chance for Steven to build their relationship a little more. The problem was, he had no idea what Axl would want. He’d been wracking his brain all morning, but nothing felt right.

At that moment, laughter rang out from the kitchen, light and carefree, “Hey! Get your own!” Steven could hear the smile in Axl’s voice.

Hopping to his feet, he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Axl was indeed smiling, no matter how hard he tried to look annoyed. Slash was grinning widely as he held a mug of coffee just out of the red-head’s reach, “Sharing is caring, Sweetheart!”

Axl was pressed against the guitarist’s back, his chin resting on Slash’s shoulder as he stretched his arms out to try to reach the mug Slash held in front of him. When Slash finally broke away, rushing to take two large gulps of the coffee, Axl gasped in exaggerated offense, “You asshole! It’s not sharing if you don’t leave any for me!”

Slash laughed, “I’ll give you more of the next mug.”

“Oh no, you wanted my cup? Fine,” the singer rushed to the coffee maker, grabbing the entire pot and holding it to his chest, “But THIS is mine!”

“What! No way! I can’t survive on one cup of coffee!”

“Serves you right!” Axl ran out of the kitchen, shouting between childlike laughs as Slash chased after him, complaining loudly even as his face showed nothing but joy. Listening to the two musicians as their voices rang through the house, Steven was struck by inspiration, a grin spreading slowly across his face.

He knew what to get Axl for Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy sighed as another stack of plates was placed next to him, grabbing the first one to start scraping off excess food. God, he couldn’t wait until Motley Crue started making enough that they could all quit their shitty jobs. Washing dishes all day wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his day, either. He tossed his head back, trying to get a strand of hair that had come loose from his ponytail out of his face, when he heard some sort of commotion out in the restaurant.

He didn’t think much of it at first, shitty customers weren’t that uncommon. But then the voices started getting closer.

“Sir, you cannot go back there-”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave-”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute.”

The voices were right outside the door, and just as Tommy turned, Izzy Stradlin burst in, followed closely by one of the managers. The guitarist looked frazzled, his hair a wild mess, dark circles under his eyes, and what looked like some sort of batter smeared on his shirt.

“Tommy! Fucking finally,” Izzy muttered, steadfastly ignoring the manager that was still trying to talk to him.

“Izzy? What the Hell are you-”

“Look, I have no idea who has Nikki’s name. Can you please just switch with me? I’ll owe you one or whatever, just do this one favor for me.”

Blinking slowly, it took Tommy a moment to figure out what Izzy was talking about. When he finally caught up, he winced, “Oooooh fuck.” Izzy stared at him, the manager still standing to the side just watching. “Um,” Tommy shuffled awkwardly, “I actually….”

“What?”

Gulping nervously, Tommy finally spit it out, “I don’t have Duff’s name anymore.“

Silence stretched for a long minute, Izzy staring blankly while Tommy’s manager looked back and forth between them in confusion. Finally, Izzy slowly stalked forward and Tommy was pretty sure he was about to get murdered.

Izzy stopped just inches away from him, “Who does?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Slash, I need you to make out with Axl.”

Sputtering, Slash practically spit out his water in surprise and dismay, “What? Why??”

Taking a deep breath, Steven explained, “Okay, so I got Axl for the Secret Santa, right?” Slash opened his mouth, but Steven barreled on before he could speak, “And I want to get him something good, cause I love the dude. And I couldn’t figure out what to get him, cause like, what does Axl even want? But then I realized, he wants you!” Grinning widely, Steven didn’t even register the deep shade of red blooming across Slash’s face, “I’m pretty sure he wants you more than anything. So for his gift I figured I’d get you to kiss him! So will you do it? Please?”

Swallowing thickly, Slash brought one hand up, pushing his hair to try to hide his flaming face, “I- Um- …Hang on, I need to process this.”

Thankfully, Steven was happy to stand patiently while Slash’s brain rebooted. Logically, the guitarist knew on some level that his feelings for the red-head were mutual. At least, he hoped. After all, who’s to say their flirtation wasn’t just a friendly joke to Axl? He’d always been too anxious about being rejected to make any sort of blatant move; to do anything that didn’t have some element of plausible deniability.

But… Nikki had thought that they were already a couple. And now Steven was saying Axl wanted him. And, well…

That had to mean something, right?

Inhaling deeply, Slash finally met Steven’s gaze, “Okay. So. I see what you’re saying. But our Secret Santa gifts are going to be exchanged in front of a group, and do you really think Axl would appreciate me kissing him in front of an audience?” Just saying it had Slash’s blush reigniting.

Steven’s face fell, “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yeah. But… why don’t we trade names? And I’ll, uh, kiss Axl after the gift exchanged,” Jesus Christ he felt like a middle schooler. Fucking Axl messing with his fucking emotions.

The drummer hummed in consideration, “… You’ll tell him I helped though? Because I still want you making out with him to be my gift to him.”

“Fucking Hell, yes I’ll let you take credit if everything works out, so just stop talking and give me his damn name!”

Laughing, Steven swapped paper with the guitarist, “My work here is done.”

~~~~~~~~~

Axl glared at nothing as he stalked down the street. He was a fucking idiot. Why had he gone to the trouble of getting Slash’s name for the Secret Santa when he didn’t even know what the fuck to get him? He knew the type of shit the guitarist liked, and so in theory getting him a gift shouldn’t be that hard. But he wanted to give the other man a gift that would say something. Something that would maybe help… push things forward.

Unless Slash didn’t actually like Axl that way. In which case Axl needed to be able to laugh and say he was overthinking it. Plausible deniability and all.

Sighing, he wandered into another shop. This one seemed mostly full of novelties and souvenirs for tourists. He drifted aimlessly, kicking himself for getting into this situation and debating about just trading Slash’s name away to someone. But just as he was turning to leave the store, eyes burning with hopelessness, something caught his eye.

Picking up the item, he considered it carefully. It wasn’t some intimate symbol or heartfelt offering, but that almost made it better. Just something simple that would make Slash laugh and maybe hint at something more. Smiling, he swallowed back the lingering nervousness long enough to place the item on the counter to buy it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Slash kneeled on the floor, rifling through the single drawer of the coffee table in the living room. He was pretty sure he’d seen a spool of thread in there at one point…

There was a bundle of fabric shoved under the guitarist’s mattress in his room which had been there for almost two months now. The pattern had jumped out at him when he had passed a small stand where an older woman had been selling various crafts and knick-knacks on the street. At the time, he’d had no idea what to do with it, even as he shoved some crumpled bills into the woman’s hands and snatched the fabric. But he knew that he would kick himself later if he didn’t get it.

Months later and sure enough, he was so glad he had. He only needed to do a little bit of simple stitching for what he had in mind, nothing he hadn’t helped his mom with a million times. Now if he could just find that thread…

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Jumping in surprise, Slash turned to see a frazzled looking Izzy. He barely had a chance to even process what was happening before the other man was stalking towards him, his teeth clenched as he practically collapsed onto his knees next to him.

“Slash,” he ground out, “I know Tommy traded you Duff’s name and I need you to give it to me so I can buy that giraffe bastard a fucking Christmas gift, okay?”

Oh boy. “Um…” Slash would love to tease his bandmate for his crush, but the situation felt a bit… volatile. Gulping nervously as he looked into Izzy’s hard eyes, he admitted, “I actually don’t have Duff’s name. I traded it for-”

“WhAT?!”

In the blink of an eye, Izzy was standing, hands fisted in the front of Slash’s shirt. Slash squeaked in surprise as he was dragged off the floor until their faces were inches apart. “What do you mean you traded it??” Izzy shouted.

“Holy shit, man,” Slash stared wide-eyed at his band mate, stumbling to steady himself and gripping Izzy’s wrists uselessly, “I-”

“Who the FUCK did you trade it to?” Izzy actually shook him, his eyes manic as he tried to shake the information out of the other man, “Who has Duff’s name now??”

“Steven! I traded with Steven! Fuck!”

“What’s going on? I heard my name?”

The drummer didn’t know what to expect, especially after walking in on what looked like Izzy threatening Slash. But before he could process what was happening, Izzy’s eyes snapped to look at him. Steven felt like a deer in the headlights, and in mere seconds Izzy had opened his hands, letting Slash drop unceremoniously to the ground with a ‘thud’ and an ‘oof!’, before full on sprinting and tackling Steven to the floor.

Shrieking, the two musicians tumbled to the ground, Izzy grabbing Steven’s shirt as he pinned him down, “Steven I swear to fuck if you tell me you traded Duff’s name-”

“No, no, I have it! I have it!” Steven blurted out in a panic, scrambling to pull the paper from his pocket.

Snatching the name from his hand, Izzy released him, standing shakily as he looked down at paper, “Fucking finally,” he muttered to himself. He reached into his own pocket and carelessly let it drift down onto Steven’s chest before walking away, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

Steven and Slash stood shakily, eyeing the closed door warily.

“What… the fuck?” Steven breathed, turning wide eyes to Slash, who only threw his hands up defensively.

“Fuck dude, I have no fucking clue. This Secret Santa thing is driving everyone crazy.”

“Ah man, am I gonna be the only one with no one to make out with after this thing?” the drummer pouted, leaning down to pick up his new name assignment from where it had fallen onto the floor, “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind kissing Mick.”

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement. He froze when he noticed Steven seriously considering the paper in his hand, “Stevie, no. Do NOT kiss Mick. We all love the dude, but we wouldn’t find your body after.”

Rolling his eyes, Steven laughed, “Haha, Dude, I’m just kidding,” he glanced back down at the name, “…unless?”

“Steven NO!”

~~~~~~~

Opening the door quietly, Tommy glanced around the apartment. Seeing that the coast was clear, he quickly entered, cradling his gift carefully in his hand. The door to Nikki’s room was closed, music blasting from within, so Tommy was able to sneak past easily and slip into his own room.

He hoped that Nikki understood his gift. The bassist tried to shrug it off, scoffing whenever the subject came up, but Tommy could tell the holidays were hard for him. It hurt Tommy’s heart to see the other man struggle, and he wouldn’t even really talk about it. The most the drummer got was some drunken muttering on the nights Nikki got really fucked up, but never enough for him to really get it off his chest and feel better, so he always awoke the next morning just as melancholy and frustrated and distant.

Sighing, Tommy placed his gift gently on the table next to his bed. Maybe it was far fetched, but he loved Nikki. He just hoped his present would communicate that.

~~~~~~~

Izzy was collapsed face down on his mattress, the same spot he’d been in for the last hour. When this week had started, he had not anticipated having to go through so much trouble to get his crush’s name. But it would all be worth it when he gave him his gift and-

His eyes snapped open.

Oh fuck.

He hadn’t gotten Duff a fucking gift yet.

~~~~~~~~

Sighing in relief, Duff finally made it home after a hellish double-shift. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pass out. He had finished his gift for Steven a few days after they all drew names, and he felt confident the drummer would like his gift when he got it the next night. When he walked into the living room, he waved tiredly at Steven, who was smoking lazily on the couch.

“Hey man,” the drummer nodded at him.

“Hey,” Duff sat next to him, leaning his head back, “Any crazy plans for tonight?”

Steven shrugged, “Nah, I need to figure out what to do for the Secret Santa thing.”

Duff snorted, “You’ve had a week and you’re doing this the night before?”

“It’s not my fault!” Steven whined, “I had to switch names last second.” He crossed his arms with a huff, and before Duff could question what he was talking about, the drummer muttered, “Izzy must’ve gotten you something really good, he wanted your name really bad.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

When Steven finally looked up, he immediately straightened in his seat, eyes widening at the sight of Duff’s pale face, “Dude? What’s wrong, are you ok-”

“Izzy got me for the exchange?” the bassist asked weakly.

“Well, I mean, he does now? He pretty much forced me to give it to him and-”

Duff stood abruptly, Steven following after him with his hands out because honestly Duff looked a little like he was going to pass out, “Oh my God. Oh my God, Izzy is going to give me something. I don’t have anything for him!”

“That’s okay, it’s okay!” Steven desperately tried to soothe him, “You’re only supposed to give a gift to your assigned person, so-”

“No!” Duff’s fingers curled into his own hair, eyes wide and panicky, “Izzy is getting me a gift! He- he deliberately got my name and I don’t have anything for him! That is not okay!”

“Fuck, okay, Duff, just breathe, okay? Oh God, please don’t cry! Duff if you start crying then I’m gonna start crying!”

Just then, the front door opened. Axl blinked in surprise, eyes darting between Steven and Duff and immediately rushing forward in concern, “What the Hell is going on? Why do you both look like you’re going to cry? Do I need to punch someone??”

Duff covered his face with his hands, “I fucked up and now Izzy is going to fucking hate me!”

“No, he’s not!” Steven insisted, rubbing Duff’s back as he turned to Axl, “Izzy has Duff’s name for the Secret Santa and now Duff is freaking out because he doesn’t have a gift for Izzy.”

Axl furrowed his brow in confusion, “But if you don’t have Izzy’s name then you weren’t supposed to get him a gift?”

“Fuck that!” Duff cried, “It- it’s Izzy! I can’t take something from him without giving him something back! He’ll think I don’t care!” His chest was heaving, “Oh my God, I can’t breathe, he’s going to think I don’t care, I can’t breathe, I’m dying-”

Scrambling, Steven and Axl gently pushed Duff back onto the couch, sitting on either side of him, “Duff, Duff, don’t think about that right now, just breathe okay? In and out, just copy us,” Axl’s deep voice was soft and comforting, Steven’s hand on his back grounding him as the two musicians beside him took exaggerated breaths.

As air finally started to reach his lungs, Duff wiped at his face roughly, “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re fine dude,” Steven insisted, Axl nodding in agreement. They were both a little shaken- they knew that Duff could get anxious, and he’d told them that he had had panic attacks before, but they’d never witnessed one before. Still, they managed to keep it together while Duff calmed down.

“Okay, so I still say you have nothing to worry about,” Axl began, “but if it will help, I know Nikki had Izzy’s name to start.”

“And I know no one in the house has his name,” Steven added, “So it’s definitely with someone in the Crue!”

Nodding, Duff took another deep breath, “Okay. Okay, so I’ll just go over, and switch, and… and figure out something to give him… tomorrow…” he ran a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve totally got this!” Steven encouraged.

“Right. Fuck, I’m wasting time, I need to go,” Standing, Duff took a few steps towards the front door before stopping, turning on his heel and rushing into the room he shared with Steven. He emerged moments later with a paper bag clutched in his hand.

“What’s that?” Steven asked.

“Nothing. See ya,” And with that, Duff was running out the door.

Turning slowly towards Axl, Steven bit his lip nervously, “Should we…?”

Sighing, the red-head stood, “Yeah, probably.” The two men quickly ran out the door after the bassist, following after him down the street. Because they were good fucking friends.

~~~~~~~~~

Slash returned home after making a run to the liquor store and found the house dark, empty, and quiet. He glanced around in confusion, raising his hands in dismay.

“Where the fuck is everybody?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Maybe speed it up just a little?”

“I think the issue is more with the key than the speed,” Mick argued. Tommy hummed in consideration while Nikki made a few notes in his notebook. Motley Crue was crammed in their usual corner of the apartment dedicated to their band practice.

“Well, let’s start with a key change and then see how we feel,” Nikki decided. The others nodded in agreement, but before they could start playing, they all jumped as someone started pounding on their door.

“NIKKI!” A voice yelled, “Nikki, let me in!!”

All eyes snapped to the bassist, “What the fuck did you do, Sixx?” Vince questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t do anything!” Nikki replied, huffing defensively.

The pounding at the door suddenly stopped, and the four rockers heard more voices from outside, “Jesus fuck, Duff, will you please calm down?”

“Should we do another breathing exercise?”

“I’m fucking FINE, I just-”

Finally, Nikki hesitantly opened the door, revealing three fifths of Guns N Roses standing on his doorstep. “Uuuuuh… hi?”

“Nikki!” Duff exclaimed with relief, “Do you know who has Izzy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

“Mother fucker.”

Mick’s voice was more resigned than annoyed, and Duff immediately gave him his attention, “Mick do you have it? Can you-”

“Yes, fuck, whatever, I don’t care!” the guitarist threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

Beaming, Duff quickly jogged over, swapping scraps of paper and also handing Mick the paper bag he had brought with him.

Raising an eyebrow, Mick looked at it suspiciously, “What’s this?”

“Oh, I already had a gift, so you can just give it to him instead.”

“Hell yeah, that makes my life easier.”

“It was the least I could do,” Duff shrugged.

“Great, this has been fun,” Vince rolled his eyes, “Now get out, we’re busy being a better band than you guys.”

“Excuse me?!” Axl stepped forward, fists clenched and ready to go, but Duff swiftly wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him off the floor. “Hey!!” the singer struggled, arms still reaching out as if he could get a hit in from his current position.

Duff nodded at the four men, “Thanks again. See you guys tomorrow!”

Calling out their farewells, Vince snickered as Axl cried out “This isn’t over, asshole!” just as the door closed behind them.

Nikki shook his head, “I get the feeling that tomorrow is going to be interesting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the two bands piled into the living room of the Hell House, every single one of them was some level of buzzed. Slash and Steven had smoked a bit earlier in the evening, Nikki, Tommy, and Vince had done a few lines, and the drinks were flowing early. Duff didn’t even bother with pretense this time, a bottle of Vodka held loosely in his hand.

“Man, we should have decorated the apartment!” Tommy pouted as he admired the Christmas lights that had been tossed around and hung haphazardly in the living room, Duff smiling proudly from his seat. Axl, Izzy, Vince, and Steven were pressed close together on the couch, Mick taking the only chair, while the rest of the group sat on the floor. The coffee table was piled up with their shoddily wrapped gifts in the middle of their circle.

“Alright, who’s starting this thing?” Nikki questioned.

For a moment, everyone was silent, each person looking around and waiting for someone else to volunteer. “Oh for fucks sake,” Axl rolled his eyes, “Steven, this whole thing was your idea, so you get to start.”

“Sure!” Steven grinned widely, reaching into the pile to grab a paper bag with a very familiar shape, “Merry Christmas, Mick!”

“Hey, wait a sec-” Axl protested.

Opening the bag, no one was surprised to see the bottle of vodka inside. There was a chorus of complaints, Nikki slamming his hands on the coffee table, “Dude, we said no alcohol!”

But the drummer only smirked mischievously, “That’s the real gift,” he explained, “My present to Mick is saying ‘fuck it’ to the rules.”

The group went silent, all of them considering his words. “Damn,” Slash muttered, “That’s actually pretty good.”

Even Mick couldn’t hold back a small smirk, nodding in appreciation, “I dig it. Thanks, drummer,” he raised the bottle with a nod of thanks, and Steven pumped his fist in victory. Slash mentally sighed in relief that at least the drummer hadn’t tried to kiss the man.

“Let’s just go clockwise, now,” Tommy suggested, “So Mick, you’re up next!”

“Well, surprise, surprise,” the older man rolled his eyes, “I got Steven. So here,” he grabbed the bag Duff had given him the day before, pushing it into the blonde’s arms.

Opening the bad excitedly, Steven gasped in excitement. He pulled out a pair of drumsticks, the handles covered in dark swirls and designs which, upon closer observation, looked like they had been practically carved on with ballpoint pen. “These are awesome! Thanks, ‘Mick’,” he looked at the guitarist first, before smiling at Duff. Slash and Izzy exchanged silent glances. Neither understood the exchange, shrugging nonchalantly and ultimately deciding not to worry about it.

Slash was next, and he shyly tossed a light package wrapped in tissue paper into Axl lap, “I got Axl. Merry Christmas, dude.”

A subtle pink spread across Axl’s cheeks before he even opened the package, but it got even worse once he did. Folded inside was a bandana. Everyone knew it was one of Axl’s favorite accessories to wear, so it made sense as a gift, but what really made him pause was the pattern on it. The black fabric was covered with designs of golden snakes wrapped around dark red roses.

Swallowing thickly, Axl cleared his throat, doing his best to smile casually, “This is awesome, man,” he looked up to meet Slash’s eyes, “Thank you.”

Mick took a long drink from his vodka.

“Okay! Tommy, you’re next!” Slash slapped at the drummer’s arm, desperate to get the attention away from himself and the singer.

“Oh, yeah, right!” Tommy nervously lunged forward, to grab his gift. His present was in a paper grocery bag, which he held carefully by the handles as he placed it in Nikki’s lap next to him, “Here you go, buddy!”

Nikki blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a few beats as he looked down at the bag. Opening it up, his eyes widened as he saw what it was. Moving carefully to keep it upright, Nikki pulled out a small potted succulent. The bassist couldn’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

Tommy gave him roots. The fucking, sappy bastard.

“Thanks, man!” He slung an arm around the drummer’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side, “I fucking love it!” He shook his head a little, letting his bangs cover his eyes that he knew were getting glassy. “And hey, what are the odds, I got your name,” the entire room rolled their eyes, a few of them chuckling at the reality of what they’d all gotten themselves into. Meanwhile, Nikki grabbed a foil wrapped bundle and handed it to Tommy.

Peeling back the foil eagerly, Tommy gasped, “Cookies!!”

While they weren’t exactly prize-winning, with Izzy’s help Nikki managed to make the pastries both edible and at least somewhat visually appealing. As he happily shoved a cookie into his mouth, Tommy almost choked when he saw, near the bottom of the pile where no one else could see, one large cookie shaped like a heart.

“Thnn yu nnk! Ahveum!” Tommy’s words were practically unintelligible as he tried to speak with his mouth full, but Nikki understood, especially when the taller boy pulled him into a tight hug.

“Anytime, dude,” both of them were beaming, and even as Nikki called for Duff to take his turn, the terror twins kept their arms around each other.

Duff took a large gulp of his vodka before shakily reaching for his gift. It was small and flat, wrapped in magazine pages, and he couldn’t quite meet Izzy’s eyes as he held it out to him, “Here you go, Izzy. Um, merry Christmas.”

Taking the gift, Izzy could feel himself gaping. He hadn’t expected Duff to get him for the game. Tearing the paper, he found himself pulling out a loop of bass strings. As he looked at it though, he realized that the four strings had been carefully braided together. The braid was then carefully twisted around before being wrapped tightly with a thin metal wire to hold it together as an intricate bracelet.

Izzy couldn’t stop staring at it, “Dude,” he breathed out, “this is amazing. Did you make this?”

Duff was twisting his fingers together so hard it had to be painful, “Uh, yeah, I…”

Smiling, Izzy slipped the bracelet on, only taking his eyes off it for a moment to look at the bassist, “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

Returning the smile, Duff allowed himself to relax, if only a little, “Anytime. Uh, Axl, you’re up.”

Steeling himself, the singer kept his face neutral as he tossed a small plastic bag across the coffee table, “Merry Christmas, Slasher,” he smirked, putting all his effort into not showing his nervousness.

Slash didn’t know what to expect, but when he opened the bag and saw what was inside, he immediately burst into a grin and started laughing. Axl smiled in relief, while the rest of the group looked on in confusion. Finally, Slash pulled out a pair of heart shaped sunglasses with soft red lenses.

The group laughed along with him, “Oh my gosh, you got him rose-colored glasses? That’s amazing,” Izzy chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Axl’s.

“Heart eyes, motherfucker!” Tommy laughed.

As his laughter trailed off, Slash looked up at Axl, his smile soft and sincere, “Thank you, Axl. They’re perfect.”

Ducking his head, Axl smiled back shyly before clearing his throat and turning to Izzy, “Alright Stradlin, your turn.”

The smile dropped off of Izzy’s face, replaced by anxiety and uncertainty. But there was no going back now. He had to fucking commit to the plan. He picked up a small box and handed it over to the tall blonde bassist, “Right. Merry Christmas, Duff.”

Duff looked almost as nervous as Izzy did (Axl didn’t know whether he wanted to smack them or hug them). Opening the box, he blinked in surprise. Tilting his head curiously, he pulled out one of Izzy’s wristwatches. “Oh, cool. Thank you!” Across from him, Izzy took a deep breath and finally managed to force out what he’d been practicing in his head all day.

“If there’s no time like the present, then there’s no present like the time.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, and he felt his face grow warm with the attention. Then, Duff snorted, slapping a hand over his mouth at the sound. But it was no use- within seconds he had dissolved into giggles. The rest of the room soon followed.

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD,” Axl laughed loudly, “You got him a fucking dad joke for Christmas!”

Even Mick was chuckling, and Tommy grinned at Steven, “I think Izzy beat you as far as metaphorical gifts go, dude.”

“I’m okay with that,” Steven giggled.

By the time they all calmed down, Duff had fallen back to lay on the floor, clutching the watch to his chest as his laughter finally tapered off, “Oh, Izzy, I love- I love it. Thank you,” he was smiling so wide his face hurt, and Izzy’s cheeks were still bright red, but he didn’t care. It was worth it.

“Wait…” Slash suddenly narrowed his eyes, “Hold on a sec…” Scanning the room, his jaw dropped, “Who the fuck got Vince??”

“I DID, BITCHES!” the Motley Crue font man stood dramatically, flipping his hair as he made his revelation.

“What the fuck?” Steven gaped, “Did you draw your own name?”

“You bet your ass I did.”

“Why didn’t you say anything??”

“Because I deserve nice things and who better to treat me to them than me?” he grinned pretentiously, “For this exchange I got myself an entirely new makeup kit and a new scarf, which is way better than-” suddenly, Vince pouted, “Hey!” he cried, clearly offended, “At least go into another room!”

The rest of the boys followed his gaze, quickly groaning when they found Nikki practically in Tommy’s lap as the two kissed passionately. Axl made fake gagging noises, while Mick just took a long, long drink from his Christmas Vodka.

“Alright, I think we all need some drinks,” Axl rolled his eyes as he stood, “You two better cool it before I get back or I'm pouring ice water over your heads.” Nikki flipped him off without even breaking away from the drummer.

As the red-head rushed out of the room, Slash stood abruptly, “I’ll go help!” He quickly hurried into the kitchen behind him.

“I’m definitely down to get fucked up, but I need a smoke first,” Izzy sighed. Hesitating, he offered almost shyly, “You want one, Duff?” He held his box of cigarettes out in offering.

With a small smile, Duff stood to follow him outside, “Yeah, sure.”

As they left, Steven looked between the door that closed behind them, the entryway to the kitchen, and the terror twins still making out on the floor in front of them. Quietly, he reached out to hold hands with both Mick and Vince.

The guitarist narrowed his eyes, and started to pull away, “Don’t-”

“Shhhhhh, Mick,” Vince grinned as he shushed him, sitting down directly on Steven’s lap, “It’s Christmas.”

“…Jesus Christ,” Mick let out a long sigh, glancing upwards for just a moment. But when Steven and Vince shifted over to make room for him, he moved to sit next to them on the couch, allowing Steven to continue holding his hand as they passed the bottle of vodka between them. And as much as Mick might try to deny it, none of them could keep a smile off their faces.

~~~~~~~~~

“So, there’s a second part to my gift.”

Axl jumped slightly when Slash’s spoke behind him. Turning to face him, he felt his cheeks burning again just thinking about the gifts they had given each other, “Oh?”

Slash nodded, tugging on a strand of hair shyly.

After a long pause, Axl tilted his head questioningly, “…So-” But right as he tried to speak, Slash finally gathered his courage and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Axl’s waist and kissing him deeply.

For a moment, the singer felt frozen in shock, but once his brain catches up and he convinces himself that this isn’t some hyperrealistic fever dream, he can’t help but melt into Slash’s arms, kissing back passionately. They’ve both waited so long for this moment that they can’t help but stay pressed together until they’re forced to break for air, both gasping deeply into each other’s mouths.

“…That was actually Steven’s Christmas gift to you.”

“WhAT??”

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

The night air outside was brisk, but for two men who were raised outside of California it was pleasant. Duff and Izzy smoked quietly next to each other, standing in the dim glow of the only working light outside of the Hell House. With each drag of his cigarette, Izzy mentally worked himself up to just say something to Duff. Something, anything to even remotely explain his feelings.

But before he got a chance, Duff started rambling.

“Thank you again. For the gift, I mean. I mean the- not that the watch isn’t nice! I love it, honestly, but that joke man, I definitely didn’t see that coming. And I know sometimes my jokes are dumb, so I appreciate you… indulging me, or whatever,” he waved his hand vaguely, ducking his face in embarrassment, “It just, meant a lot to me. Which might seem weird, or dumb, but-”

Izzy interrupted him with a soft, gentle kiss that still managed to steal the breath from his lungs.

Pulling back, Izzy weaved a hand through Duff’s hair, cupping the back of his head lightly, “I love your jokes. And I love your smile, and your laugh, and your bass playing, and your singing, and… I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” Duff breathed quietly, his eyes wide with awe, “Thank God. Cause… I love you too.”

Laughing, Izzy didn’t have any more words to say. He simply pulled Duff down to kiss him softly again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Both bands got spectacularly wasted that night. They pooled their money and ordered five pizzas, and passed around bottles of nightrain and whiskey and vodka, and played music as loud as their speakers could go. Axl and Nikki started writing song lyrics on the walls, and Tommy and Steven drummed on every surface available including their bandmates. At first every kiss was met with groaning and gagging, but by the end of the night every kiss got a round of applause and drunken cheers. Steven even managed to steal a kiss from Mick without being punched in the face. Motley Crue ended up spending the night, half the group stumbling towards whatever mattresses were open, while the other half passed out on the floor of the living room.

Looking around at the group of rockers, Steven beamed happily.

“God bless us, every-”

Vince shoved a pillow into his face.

#my writing #Motley Crue #Guns n Roses #gnr #christmas fic #slaxl #terrorcest #duzzy

132 notes · View notes

betterdaysareatoenailaway · 4 years

Text

if I can do it...YOU can do it

As a longterm heroin addict and former drunk, I cannot think of a phrase more unintentionally harmful and shitty than “if I can do it, you can do it.” While some people consider the phrase an attempt at democratic “we’re all in this together” jingoism, or a levelling of the playing field, I think it is poorly disguised braggadocio, needlessly dismissive, and ultimately harmful. When I hear it, and I hear it ALL THE FUCKING TIME at Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, what I hear is this: “MY addiction was SO out of control, SO all consuming, and SO life threatening, but I was able to quit. Therefore surely YOU can quit your undoubtedly less serious addiction.” UGH. First of all, it’s not a contest. If somebody believes their addiction to be serious enough to try to address it by attending meetings, the last thing they fucking need is to hear some asshole (who is currently standing safely on the far shores of sobriety) throwing shade at their addiction before they’ve even made it to step one. It is not inspiring. It is not helpful. And it serves only to inflate the self-importance of the person saying it, not to help the damaged, scared, and possibly dopesick newcomer at a meeting. The phrase should be banned. Meetings are already remarkably difficult for newcomers. The cliché seen in movies where the newcomer stands up and tells their story at their very first meeting are inaccurate. I have never had the chance to “tell my story” or “speak my truth” at the many “first meetings” I’ve attended (I say many because I have had many relapses, and each meeting after a relapse is a first meeting). The reason I’ve never been able to talk about that stuff at a first meeting is because of how incessantly the regulars were speaking about themselves and interrupting each other yammering about their Cadillac Problems. (A Cadillac Problem is any typical life problem that might seem alien and totally out of reach to a newly sober person. Hence the name. Longterm AA or NA veterans use meetings to bitch about their life circumstances, circumstances which are inevitably quite foreign sounding to someone who has just lost everything due to their addiction. Hence the name. Having lost most of what I hold dear, going to a meeting and hearing some dude who has been sober for a decade blab away about how long it took for him to get an oil change is NOT helpful. Like…I’ve lost everything, I’m homeless, my partner won’t talk to me, I haven’t seen my cats in weeks, but please…DO go on about how annoying your boss at your 60k-a-year job is!) I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. There should be different meetings for longtime and newly sober people. They live on different planets. Don’t force them to share a room. I have actually never seen a newcomer at a meeting speak anything more than the bare minimum, which is their name and their problem. “Hi I’m Danny and I’m an alcoholic/heroin addict.” Moreover, anonymous meetings are almost invariably run by forty-or-fiftysomething white men and as such, are not very friendly to people of other races. I once saw two young Asian men come to a meeting that I’d been attending for months and somebody actually tried to pass the big book over them, even though everybody is supposed to take turns reading a passage. Either the person assumed these Asian men couldn’t read or speak English, or they think white sobriety is more important. Alcoholic Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous meetings are also very difficult for many women, because most women who show up to a meeting are bound to get mobbed by a hoard of desperate men looking for someone vulnerable they can 13th step. “13th stepping” is a practice where men who have been sober for a long time take a freshly sober woman “under their wing,” pretend to care about them, then rush them through the 12 Steps as quickly as possible so that they can fuck them at the end. Hence the 13th step. It is not just poor impulse control that makes these men do this, even though poor impulse control alone should be anathema to any veteran of an addiction program, even one as unscientific and cult-like as AA or NA. It is more of a predatory outlook, this sick grooming method, which is even more frightening. I have a very good woman friend who has been struggling with an addiction for fifteen years who hasn’t attended a meeting for a decade because of this disgusting practice. ANYWAY that’s my rant. Obviously “if I can do it, you can do it” isn’t the only fucked up thing one can hear and/or experience at an Anonymous meeting. Still, it rankles. “If I can do it, you can do it.” “If YOU could just shut the fuck up about yourself for five fucking minutes, maybe I, and the other newcomers here, could asses and address our life-threatening addictions?"

#betterdaysareatoenailaway #heroinaddiction #fentanyl #ificandoityoucandoit #AA #NA #anonymous #drug rehabilitation #12 steps

2 notes · View notes

juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Aftermath (NJ x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Guesthouse AU

Pairing: Guesthouse Manager!Namjoon x Foreign!Reader

Warnings: Dirty talk, possessive behaviour, rough unprotected sex on the kitchen counter (ALWAYS use precautions, lads and lasses), accidental voyeurism, squirting, fingering, swearing, breeding/impregnation kink, dom!Namjoon

Summary: The sequel to ‘’Dionysian’’

Every aftermath is different, ranging in variety to all its extents. However, this one experienced by a silver tongue no longer numbed by blueberries does not nullify its need to speak the truth. Thus, the blonde wolf holds on to beliefs made explicit in drunkenness and hopes for physical conviction in sobriety.

By means which carry a sober soul into a former mutual intoxication.

Masterlist

The impact of an aftermath all depends on the reason for its cause, so naturally, it follows that the bigger the agent, the grander the effect of the afterburn. A jet lag tried to be cured by reading, for example, does not have as much if any unpleasant side effects aside from a sense of discombobulation, this is disregarding the fact that what followed the leisurely activity does make walking not all that easy, while the smoky blueberry hangover causes a major headache on top of muttering grumpiness. Withal, and perhaps this is fortunate regardless of the oppressing morality of reality, the negative mood in case of the latter seems to lessen quite a bit when exhausted pained espresso eyes shrouded by haphazard platinum meet drowsy sheepish irises containing various travel stories in the second living room upstairs.

‘Y/N,’ it comes out as a surprised reaction, not having expected to run into the person indirectly involved with the lingering effects of rice-based clear alcohol contained in emerald if that is remembered at all considering the vague forgetful haze shrouding an always comforting gaze, ‘I thought you’d be out and about by now.’

The remark signifies last night has been forgotten and with that the strangely meaningful act that turned out entirely different than expected, oddly making the heart sink with the stone of knowledge that even the genuine passion and devotion has been erased. ‘No, I’m here sleeping off the jet lag. But, uhm, can we talk?’

‘Sure, but,’ a palm presses against the forehead in a futile endeavour to push the likely agonizingly pulsing hurt into retreat, ‘can we do so at a low volume. My head is killing me.’

More than that is currently being figuratively murdered, but there is a voice inside which says that the tall guesthouse manager does not have to know about the events of the past twilight for they are best left in the past. Henceforth, it stays at a consenting nod before two pairs of bare feet ascend the stairs to the stylish though small area both functioning as a hallway, living room, dining room and kitchen all at once.

Along the way, a brief spark of hope is ignited when fingers brush against each other in an absent-minded fashion, hoping for them to entangle entirely or mayhaps go beyond that chaste boundary, falling into the sin left behind in oblivious dusk. A straying digit encourages this renewed type of contact.

But is disregarded as opportunity fades away directly when the wanted big hand swerves away towards the front door where a few coats hang neatly in a row to retrieve a small box of Marlboro Red cigarettes. ‘I’ll be right back. Maybe a smoke will help me clear up.’

The spring weather is warm enough to allow going outside without a jacket provided the upper body is in the least covered by a T-shirt, so the grey long-sleeved shirt on top of loose navy pyjama pants more than suffices when the front door briefly opens and closes without another word to carry on the communication seemingly unaffected by the sensual encounter.

The silence that sets in is cold, the warm lingering affection normally shown nor the traces of the rough version present to calm an anxious heart fearing being abandoned by the handsome manager despite being bound to a gentle ocean artist. Hence, for a moment that feels longer than it truly is, eyes begin to water at the sight of the closed entrance as arms wrap around the shivering body to keep it from unjustly falling apart, barely shy of sobbing when asking the rhetorical questions of the emptiness. ‘Why can’t you remember? Why did it have to mean nothing?’

And with those very same haunting unanswered inquiries, the task of making two decent cups of instant coffee is taken up while fighting the tears that inevitably stream down the cheeks. Shivering hands retrieve a pair of matching crimson and ink black mugs from the cupboard that is slightly too highly installed for the short person determinedly trying to grab a hold of the china, eventually succeeding by standing on the tips of toes. Soft hiccups get lost in the loudly boiling water and the dimmed sobs in the pouring that brings the caffeine to life.

However, a new noise is audible over the tinkling of spoons mixing the powder and water to create a godly beverage: bare feet rapidly padding over the Alaskan white cedar floor after a shocked gasp. Before the door has closed with a hardly audible click, unusually physically affectionate strong arms clad in grey have wrapped around the middle and pulled a fragile figure against a worried chest scented with fresh smoke. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘It- It’s nothing. Do- Don’t worry.’ To move on from the stupidly prominent hurt at the hand of lying fancies, a trivial detail is asked after while continuing to keep the whirlpool in the cup alive, moving. All consuming. ‘Do y- you drink it black?’

‘Y/N, please tell me what’s bothering you. I hate to see you like this.’ The warm breath on locks makes teeth bite down on the lower lip in a desperate attempt to withhold another heavy heave evoked by the genuine loving imaginations it conjures, gravely reminding the mind Taehyung already has an allegation to the title of significant other.

‘Namjoon, re- really. It’s o- okay.’ The handsome tall tree was never meant to be a selfish girl’s lover anyway, so the mourning of the fact is nothing but superfluous information to the man who cannot even remember how amazing and wanted he made her feel. How good it felt to lose control.

‘Is it about last night?’ A plush mouth no longer ghosts over strands grown haphazard by slumber, pressing down on the back of the head in a sincere loving smoke-scented kiss.

A weak nod confirms the suspicion, bravely trying to speak up to ask the question previously asked to the nothingness in a blonde wolf’s wake. ‘Have you forgotten what we did?’

‘I was far gone, too drunk to memorize what happened.’ Had it not been for what follows the statement, the crying might have commenced in earnest without ever giving a proper explanation for it afterwards to neither the platinum giant nor anyone else. Fortunately, the sorrowful chill fades from limbs at the heated reassuring mumbled words. ‘But I remember everything we did, all that I said. How gorgeous you looked while riding me, solely mine instead of his.’

The hug loosens enough to allow for turning around when noticing the urge to do so, needing to see the truth of the claim beneath the soju aftermath.

The dark reminiscent glint says more than enough, emphasizing the wanting has not been nullified over the course of sobering during the remnants of the nightly hours. Especially the barely held back anger pointed towards the artist called a “blueberry” in drunken rage signifies still wanting to be the sole one for a taken travelling individual living on a deadline. ‘I do hate it, you know? Hate it how he’s your boyfriend and I have to watch from the sideline. It should have been me who fucked you when you two came back from eating ramen. In fact, that could have been our second date if only you had recognized the trip to ARTBOX meant as much to me as a first.’

The embrace is made entirely undone as palms move upwards over the upper arms, following the curve of the neck and at last coming to rest on the cheeks where two kind thumbs wipe away the remaining brooks. ‘I don’t care how many men fuck you, but, in the end, I want you to be mine. That, out of all the times another touches you, it’s only meaningful when it’s me. I want you to be mine.’ Lips connect in a kiss tasting of smoke, old alcohol and restless sleep with a fruity hint of blueberries. Not really a preferable combination due to the sharpness of rice alcohol, but otherwise as pleasant, if not more, than the turpentine and lavender experienced each night before going to bed, every morning at waking up and all the little shared moments in between. ‘Leave him. Leave him for me, baby.’

‘I promised he could stay with me.’ Attention shifts to the side, staring at the floor in conflicted self-loathing for wanting to give up for Namjoon but wondering whether it would even matter since the blue-haired art teacher was turned on by the idea of being shared. Said he could learn how to love this body and soul better that way. However, it begs to ask the question where the line is drawn, at which point even this explanation no longer applies.

‘And he still believes that when I’ve clearly marked you as mine? Made him watch you getting a good pounding by me?’ Focus is shifted back by suddenly being picked up and put on the counter, the contact with the cold surface beneath the thighs making a shuddering tingling run down the spine. ‘I want him to stand by and watch, know there isn’t anything he can do to take you from me.’ A tanned hand creeps up the inside of dangling legs, gripping the upper part firmly at the last statement with a concoction of rage pointed towards an absent party and lust towards the present one. ‘Make him feel as I have all this fucking time.’

Helpless palms try to futilely push away the persistent shoulders leaning in to retrace the wonderful path of marks left behind in the twilight purple past, kissing each plum sign of belonging created in the craze of desire, hovering above the gradually heating skin and increasing the temperature by tickling warm breath. Without a second thought, in spite of Sense urging against doing it, fingers acting on muscle memory entangle in soft fluffy platinum locks like they had done before as the foreign body mindlessly bridges the small space between it and the local one.

The obvious hunger for the wolf disguised as a nice guesthouse manager evokes a tangibly bright smile on full lips while the oversized piece of clothing which is the property of a rival is endeavoured to be removed. ‘I think I like this complacent you more, baby. Now take this damn shirt off, I dislike lavender on you.’

‘You will have to deal with it. It keeps me warm.’ The smugness of the dark has not faded since talking back to Namjoon when the man thinks there is no courage to do so is actually quite amusing. Furthermore, it is also another way to avoid giving into the sensual craving stirring in the gut, fueled by the sensations of wanting to be possessed.

‘Hm, maybe not so obedient, after all.’ Clearly, the attitude is not tolerated even in a sober state. Yet, the caressing of the sides combined with a pondering hum forms an example of actual care about wellbeing. ‘I don’t want you to catch a cold, though. Hold on, baby, I’ll be right back.’

Just briefly a handsome face can be regarded fully in earnest before it rushes up the stairs and comes back down with a gorgeous creme-shaded silk kimono with intricate patterns in complementing colours and black bands at the ends of the sleeves. Quick as lightning, making sure there is no opportunity to resist at the last second, the crisp white shirt is almost torn off to be replaced by the personal piece of clothing.

Withal, before the new garments are donned, espresso eyes are drawn to the mesmerizing sight of the revealed chest, grand palms enveloping the two sensitive cushions perfectly as if made exactly to fit the broad-shouldered human tree’s hands. ‘Why did you hide this from me? You’re beautiful.’ The head dips down to take the swollen right rosebud into the mouth, teasing it by nibbling and licking the agitated bud of nerves, while left digits glide over the stomach towards the source of the hedonic scent as their right counterparts curl over the edge of the counter to remain balanced though they rapidly shift to the hip closing in with the ache to be closer. ‘So incredibly beautiful.’

When the coy amusing ministrations over cotton becoming sticky with uncontrollable wanting bring bliss almost too close, the desperate grip on hair that has to be renewed with every novel angle of exploration begins to shake and the chest is falling and rising heavily with laborious breaths mixed with pathetic whimpers and surprised gasps at harder bites or pressure on extremely sensitive spots, the sorry excuse for panties are torn off and the kimono embedded with a trace of nicotine blueberries put on. ‘Look at you, Y/N. Naked but for my clothes, marked as mine, blushing all cutesy with the need for me.’ Legs spread automatically and with a lewd squelch, two fingers slide in embarrassingly easily, soon joined by a third when notice is taken it can be done without problems. ‘So hungry for my cock, craving a good pounding.’ A too eager nod. ‘But first, I’m going to make you squirt all over my fingers and only use you as my personal fucktoy when you’re all nice and complacent, sensitive. Begging me to stop, whining for me to pull my big cock out, crying when I pump you full again. After all, you’re nothing more than my little breeding machine.’

It does not take long for the first promise to come to fruition, the remaining restraints of reality rapidly let go of once that special mind-boggling spot is found and touched over and over after the betraying whine, compelled to watch the obvious watery effects of pleasure by means of an unrelenting controlling grip on hair and baritone growls that shatter every thought in a white haze. ‘You’re such an easy fuck. Already cumming so quickly, making such a mess. But it’s also perfect, because it makes it that much easier to force myself into you, for you to handle me.’

Keeping the earlier given word, loose marine blue bottoms alongside the once fresh pair of boxers - now ruined by the transparent sinful sign which was only noticeable in a tangible shape - are pushed down to the ankles to give free reign to a sober part of the body that the one of the self is already well-acquainted with. Without warning nor inquiry about consent, making use of the floating trance which causes every reaction to be slowed down immensely due to the ignorant bliss exerting a hypnotizing influence on the consciousness, a more intense version of the renewed physical bond is established. The sole reaction that can be managed is hands tightening the hold on the buff upper arms that were already previously held tight when it were only long digits bringing about sexual ruin, hot tears on the brim of falling at the burning sensation of being stretched open again which is intensified by every nerve still standing on edge by the plunge into sensitivity. ‘Namjoon! It- it’s too much. I- I can’t- please, pull out.’

A dark chuckle falls from full lips at a pained whimper evoked at the hand of overstimulation, corners of the mouth curled up in a satisfied devilish grin. ‘You feel even better than I remember. So fucking tight. I said I’d give you a good pounding when you’re nothing more but an obedient little thing, flinching at every contact because it’s too overwhelming.’

Honey-toned digits fold themselves perfectly over the waist, scooting the infiltrated persona closer with ease and thus deepen the union with another pained outcry contrasting with the gesture of holding on tighter to the intoxicating offender driving out any thought dedicated to Taehyung and Jungkook, muffling the beginnings of crying in ashen nicotine fabric, finding comfort in the characteristic scent. However, the hiding place is merely temporary as the counterpart of the shackle on the middle forms around the jaw, ensuring with force that stares remain locked under any circumstance. ‘I want you to keep looking at me as you beg for me to stop. Just know that it won’t actually help, so you can whimper and cry all you want but it only turns me on. You’re going to take my cock like last night, let me empty entirely inside you, and there is nothing you can do about it. You’re gonna take every last drop,’ the hold tightens yet is not fought against as the effect of the sheer strength is as good as a drunken stupor, obliterating the last slivers of the old hypnotizing veil and immediately replacing it with a new blindfold, ‘milk me till I’m dry and your pretty pussy, swollen and sore, is leaking again with my seed.’

A sloppy kiss in combination with the last spoken words before a devastating act of love commences in earnest unintentionally already shows how wanton personal longing has become, endeavouring to enhance the intimacy even further and satiate the uncontrollable craving which is at war with the urge to end it here merely on the grounds of the searing agony below. A brief repose would also be a good alternative, but the primal spirit within neglects the idea altogether and listens instead gladly to the platinum wolf. ‘So, spread your fucking legs like a good deprived bitch and let me breed you.’

Muscles loosen enough to heed the command, an awful joy the determining factor in keeping up with the directly set relentless pace between the thighs of which the ankles wrap around a carved waist that stirs up a paradoxical storm of pleasure and pain in the gut with its movements. Pleads for a halt mixed with sobs about how much it hurts, not lying despite also clearly showing the need for more, made to a beautiful face are returned with praise. ‘Keep begging like that, baby. I’m not going to stop, not when you’re taking me so well.’ The hideous snarl returns with the memory surfacing at a newly discovered detail, a trace thought to have been made undone when restoring the ruin of the night but which only evokes jealousy spurring on the desire to imprint it all over again. ‘When he’s erased every trace of me inside.’

‘N- Nam- Namjoon, pl- please. I- I’m taken. Tae- ah!’ The mention of the sweet artist’s name is obviously unappreciated, the roughness increasing at the attempt to involve a third party if only in speech alone and pushing the burning further into a novel depth. Whatever was about to be said about Taehyung having the right to cover every sensual track made by another on a beloved, albeit solely for a piece of peace of mind, is nullified in the scream preceding heavier heaves disrupted by more pleading while the body behaves in a contrasting manner.

The caramel compelling lover is held near with the tightening of shaking legs around a sculpted waist and cute howbeit flat tummy, hands meekly tugging at the powerful wrists to convince them to break off the harsh grip on the jaw in favour of an unbreakable clinging embrace, the idea of which is consented to and allows fingers to entangle in platinum fluffy strands. Withal, even though it is allowed but a warning is threateningly whispered into the ear almost deaf with the enchanting sounds of low grunts mixed with high-pitched whines against a background of skin meeting skin in the lewdest of fashions. ‘That blueberry doesn’t have the right to erase me from your system. Besides, baby, if you’d really love him, you wouldn’t be taking my dick.’

And in that is a truth universally acknowledged, because if there truly was devotion to a single soul, another one would not be enjoyed as much as it is. There would only be the chemical sting of turpentine made smooth by lavender and the ironically currently affected combination of nicotine smoke, fresh soap and sharp mint kept at bay in mere friendship.

But it is not.

‘Is everything alright? I heard someone... oh.’ The front door is unsuspectingly opened with haste by a panicked classic pastry and sweets maker, cheeks colouring a bright rosy pink matching the neatly arranged hairstyle when realizing what the source for the outcry thought to be in distress really is.

‘Get out.’ Possessive fevered irises glare at a stunned Jimin, frozen in place by awkwardness and ignorance as to how to proceed to come out of the situation as unscathed as possible, full lips parted in pure paralysis. ‘We’re busy.’

Hard-handed, the almost affectionate hug is broken off with a renewed hold on the jaw to unresistingly shift attention from desperately holding onto broad shoulders with black sensitive blindness to gaze at a flustered face lit up the bright Seoul spring sun. Though murmured at a low volume against the reddish-purple bruises on the side of the throat, what is being said is nevertheless audible for the unwelcome visitor with hair like the cherry blossoms around the concrete jungle. ‘And don’t you dare try to interfere. Y/N’s taking my cum, she’s my slut.’ A seemingly misplaced nuzzle under a primal trance makes it undeniable whom the ravished body belongs even though the intricate gorgeous kimono also gives off a clue. ‘Mine.’

‘Well, actually-’ The rest of the sentence is broken off when the risk of the manager’s wrath becomes too real again, sheepishly settling for something else before rushing off to God-knows-where after shutting the just opened door with a slam. ‘You know what? Never mind. I’ll, uh, leave you to- to it.’

‘I swear, if he also comes after you. Which he will, just like the others, even Yoongi, and that desperate boy trying to pretend he’s actually a cop.’ The continuation of the threat gets lost in a dangerously displeased grunt accompanied by a harsh thrust. The grip shifts from the underside of the face to the throat, closing the airways just enough to not suffocate in fueled rage taken out in passion. ‘However, I. Don’t. Share.’

Climaxes can be triggered in various ways, but the need to possess of a strong-willed wolf and the craving of a traveller to be controlled by the blonde animal in disguise because the ocean artist is too sweet throws entangled forbidden lovers violently off the cliff, on the edge of which has been tethered with words pushing the wish to achieve the lewdly described goals.

And just like during the last twilight and at the start of relived furious jealous love-making, the overstimulation is ignored as pained whimpers and repeated pleads for pulling out continue to function as an aphrodisiac until yet another promise is fulfilled, once more made to watch how it is established when not staring into raging deep brown.

‘Breath, baby, breath. Easy, easy, shhh.’ After the last release, shaking all over with effort which makes it hard to remain upright, a heated gradually calming chest is collapsed against in an explosive limbo as a hand transformed from rough into gentle caresses messy locks. Cushion full lips place an appreciating kiss on the temple, an action that is quite a contrast with the claiming biting, while every last drop of thick undoubtedly unclear fluid is attempted to be absorbed regardless of the soreness. ‘That’s it, baby. Milk me. Good girl, you did so well. I’m proud of you.’

When having regained consciousness enough to straighten the spine and be somewhat coherent in the reality that slowly sinks in, another chaste kiss is placed on a sticky forehead as upper arms clad in clinging silk are rubbed kindly before slowly sliding up to cup a tear-streaked face and wipe away the last of tears, now shed thanks to the impactful severing which results in the wished for outcome of leaking with white. ‘God, you’re beautiful. That kimono also looks wonderful on you. You should wear it more often.’

The smug smirk at the comment fades away into severity as fast as it appeared, baritone voice stained with a certain gravity when requesting something that cannot be easily consented to due to committing promises. ‘I meant what I said. I don’t share, especially not the girl I love. Even if this ends up in a polygamous relationship if you decide to sleep with any of the other guys or they persuade you to, know that I’ll hate each and every one of them for knowing what it’s like to be with you when I want the privilege of it. Furthermore, if they make you do anything you don’t want, I’ll beat them up and turn them out onto the street.’ Absentmindedly, the collar of the robe is corrected, fabric put around a shivering speechless body with genuine care. ‘For now, leave him. I really do want you to leave him for me. Be mine.’

‘I can’t, Joon. I promised Taehyung we’d be more than a spring affair, that he can stay with me.’ A shuddering sigh almost makes the rediscovered voice disappear again with the realistic afterthought. ‘At least until I have to go.’

‘You can make the same promise to me and I’ll guarantee we can stay together. I got a solid income from the guesthouse, a place to call home and which can be our home whenever you’re in Korea.’ The kiss that follows is grave, acting like the last bastion in the fights against determined realism. Espresso irises scented with dewy nicotine laced with fruit gleam with pleads held out of speech. ‘I promise. Please, leave him.’

‘I can’t.’

Fists clamping Japanese clothing.

‘Why?’

Brooks on caramel cheeks.

‘Sorry.’

Clad in silk and traces of another that also cannot be.

Such is the devastating aftermath of two lonely broken hearts.

#BTS #BTS smut #btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #kimnamjoonnet #BANGTANARMYNET #BTS x Reader #Namjoon #RM #Kim Namjoon #Joon #Guesthouse AU #Guesthouse manager!Namjoon #When the Petals Fall

196 notes · View notes

goodomensenthusiast · 5 years

Text

Pleasant Surprises

After the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves adjusting to a new kind of normal. Left alone by their former sides after the body switch, both angel and demon were feeling a little aimless with no one to report to after 6000 years. If they were another angel and demon, they would be mourning the loss of their fellow associates, but Aziraphale and Crowley were not other angels and demons. Currently, they were doing something both Heaven and Hell would deem inappropriate.

They were celebrating.

In Aziraphale’s backroom, the two celestial beings looked quite like a picture of two drunk men high on life. Aziraphale was trying-and failing-to sit properly in his chair, while Crowley sprawled on the couch, one foot hung off the arm rest, the other off the back, and his head off the seat. Crowley’s hands cupped a glass of wine on top of his chest.

“So, Aziraphale, now that we’ve been let go, what’ve you been up to? Fallen into any temptationsss?” Crowley teased as he shifted his head to sip from the wine glass, not expecting an answer.

Crowley noted how Aziraphale’s face pinches up in an expression much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, “Well, er…” Aziraphale stammered.

Crowley flung himself upright, and his sunglasses flew off his head, “No, angel, you couldn’t have!”

Keep reading, or it’s also on Ao3

Aziraphale frowned and said, “Don’t interrupt, my dear,” with the petulance of a much more sober person, “Now, as I was saying, I have indulged in a cup of cocoa everyday since we,” his voice dropped into a whisper, “switched bodies.”

Crowley deflated and set his wine glass on the table, “Angel, you did that normally before the end of the world didn’t happen!”

Aziraphale flushed, “Well, it's not like I have to thwart your terrible wiles anymore! You’re always gone during the day, but you never do anything evil!”

“And exactly how would you know that?!” Crowley accused.

“I feel a decrease in joy and well-being,” Aziraphale countered, “In fact, whenever you go out, happiness in London increases. It is almost as if you were doing good…” the angel trailed off.

Crowley mumbled something that Aziraphale couldn’t quite hear, but sounded an awful lot like, “So what if I am?”

Aziraphale froze, and the alcohol left his blood stream, “What did you say, dear boy?”

Crowley stood and shouted, “So what if I am!” He swayed, still drunk.

Aziraphale, ever the curious one, especially when it came to Crowley, decided to bait the not-so-demonic demon, “ What did you do? You couldn’t have fed the homeless or given them money to help them get back on their feet. That would just be so kind of you.”

Crowley stepped towards Aziraphale, but then looked indecisive.

Aziraphale urged him on, “My dear, do you have something to tell me?”

Crowley took another step, standing right in front of Aziraphale, and slumped his shoulders, “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure it out,” Crowley chuckled weakly, “But how can I keep it a secret from you?”

“Keep what a secret?” Aziraphale looked up as Crowley dropped to his knees, his head coming to rest in between Aziraphale’s knees, shocking the angel, “Crowley?”

Crowley inhaled, but said nothing. Aziraphale let them sit in silence, waiting until the demon decided to say something.

“Humans are kind, angel. And I wanted to show the ones down on their luck that it will all be okay again. So I did a couple of things. Y’know, the giving things, to the ones who needed it. The ones who have tried everything in their limited human power to give themselves a decent life, and they’ve failed due to reasons outside of their control. It’s just so unfair. I can’t help myself, Aziraphale. I go to the grocery store and the person in front of my has their card declined and I just have to pay for it,” Crowley shifted, and removed his weight from his knees when he sat firmly on the floor.

His voice cracked, “I have to pay for it, because they need those batteries for their baby monitor, or they need that chicken for dinner tonight, because their parents are coming over and they don’t want to appear like they need money, because they’re trying. They’re holding down three jobs and they still have barely enough to pay for rent, and they were so nice to the cashier when he dropped the strawberries, which was really so kind, because the cashier was just tired from taking care of his sister, since their parents died and he needs the money because he doesn’t have enough gas to get home, yet, even with all of the stress in their lives, they’re all so kind to each other.”

Aziraphale placed his hand in Crowley’s hair, practically petting him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t want to be that guy who makes their lives just that much more difficult anymore. Not when I don’t have to report back Down Below. Not when they’re really quite fascinating creatures, and they’ve all been so kind to me. I gave them the M25, and their children give me flowers to put in my hair.”

Crowley smiled and looked up at Aziraphale for the first time in his speech, and Aziraphale was shocked to find tears streaming themselves down Crowley’s cheeks.

“Do you remember that one time in St. James’ when a little girl gave me a hug, almost hitting her head on my belt buckle?”

Aziraphale did remember, although it had been many years ago. A little girl, a toddler really, ran up to them as they stood along the edge of the pond and fed the ducks. Typically, whenever a child, or an adult for that matter, spotted the pair, they usually found the angel’s lighter clothing and all around happy demeanor more welcoming than the demon’s frown and model walk. So when this child came up to them and hugged Crowley as fiercely as she could and refused to let go, it left the two dumbfounded. Then a man with a large camera jogged over and started to explain how sorry he was for the intrusion and how she normally doesn’t do this . I’m really quite sorry about this , the man, presumably her father, continues, it’s just that we’re new in town and she’s gotten used to hugging new (to her) family members, so she figures that any strangers are family. Crowley calmed the man down with, Oh, it’s alright, she’s just really friendly. You can’t fault her for that. Good thing she picked me, and not my friend here! Who knows what could have happened. Then Crowley winked as Aziraphale found his words again and started to talk to the father, who was a kind man, if not a bit frazzled.

Crowley made the child release her hands, What’s your name? The girl replied with, Victoria Rose Sullivan. I’m three! Or at least, that’s what Crowley thought she said. He was great with children, but his three-year old speak was rusty. He laughed and picked her up, handing her back to Mr. Sullivan, Here she is, all hugged out. As if on cue, Victoria yawned. Mr. Sullivan grinned, Thank you! Oh, am I glad I ran into you guys. Mr. Fell was just telling me of some nearby stores for baby clothes. And you’ve kept her happy, Mister, er… Crowley pulled out a card, Crowley. Here’s my number if you ever need help in London. Then Mr. Sullivan had a novel idea to have their picture taken. He handed his camera to a passerby and asked them to take a photo of the four of them. The passerby did so, they all had cordial goodbyes, and then the Sullivans walked out of their lives, or so Aziraphale thought.

“What about the little girl?” Inquired Aziraphale, speaking for the first time since Crowley started to talk.

“Well, I saw her the other day, all grown up. She’s twenty now, and a student at university.” Crowley started crying in earnest now, and hugged Aziraphale’s calves, “She said she recognised me from the photo. She said Thank you for all of those wonderful things you did, Mr. Crowley. I never saw you, but I knew it was you who paid for my father’s hospital bills, funeral, and my tuition. She said, My dad left me that photo and your card and a note he had written to you. Here it is. Now goodbye, Mr. Crowley, you’ve helped us in so many ways. Thank you. And off she went to her class. Do you know what that note said?”

Aziraphale shook his head, and Crowley released his calves to reach into his pocket, removing a note.

“It said:

March 17, 2016

To Mr. Crowley,

I am not sure when you will ever get this note, but I know that I won’t be the one to deliver it. Currently, I am in hospital, waiting for a heart transplant, but none are available and I fear that my time is up. But I feel at peace. Mr. Crowley, to this day I still have no clue why you would be so kind to Rose and I as you have been. I can’t say thank you enough for helping with our rent those first few months, or finding a babysitter for Rose whenever I had to work odd hours. (She had a funny name. Nanny Ashtorch? Nanny...something or another.) I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve your kindness, but we appreciate it so much. Rose, oh funny, funny Rose, she claims that it was the power of her hug, but a hug can’t warrant this kind of kindness to a couple of strangers, can it? Maybe you do this to everyone you meet, or maybe you took pity on us. But whatever the reason, Mr. Crowley, I thank you. You’ve done so much for us, and we only wish that we could do the same for you.

I wish you and Mr. Fell the best,

H. Sullivan

By the time Crowley finished reading the note, Aziraphale had joined him sobbing his heart out, “You’re so kind my dear, it’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

Crowley stiffened and tried to push him away, “You can’t mean that.”

Aziraphale embraced him into a hug, and practically pulled him into his lap, “No, Crowley, let me say my piece, then you can decide whether or not to leave.”

Crowley relented and laid his head on Aziraphale’s chest.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve done things like this before, dear boy. You make people feel seen. You support them, even without saying a word. Oh, I’m sure that you explained it to your bosses as ruining the natural flow of the economy, but you help made them feel like people cared about them.” A breath, “That you cared about them.”

Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s chin to look him in the eyes, “And I want to make you feel as special as you made them feel. As you’ve made countless others feel. As you’ve made me feel every time I have the pleasure of your company. I want you to stay with me. I want to make you breakfast every morning. I want to take you to the Ritz every week. I want you to lounge around the bookshop, soaking in the sun. I want you to feel accepted in my arms, every part of you. And I would do anything to ensure that.”

Crowley’s serpentine eyes filled with more tears, “But I was, am, a demon! I don’t deserve-”

Aziraphale cupped his face as matching tears rolled down his face, “You’ve done so much for others. You deserve so much more than I can give you. But let my try? Let me take care of you for once.”

Crowley nodded, “Could I… Could I have a kiss?”

Aziraphale laughed, relieved, “You can have as many kisses as you want.”

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

“One more thing, dear?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Nanny Ashtorch?”

“Oh come off it, Aziraphale, I had to test out names!”

#good omens #crowley #Anthony Crowley #anthony j crowley #Just Crowley being Crowley #Aziraphale #otp: ineffable #Ineffable Husbands #ineffable partners #good omens fanfiction #i write

65 notes · View notes

sunsetscurving · 5 years

Text

CHASING STARS

Ch. 9

ao3 link

In a world where reincarnation is common and expected, people stopped to care for a reason or how many times they already lived – they have no memory of their past life anymore.

But Lucas Lallemant can feel that this isn’t his first life, some shreds of his former life still present in his new one. He has this feeling that something from his past life tied him so much to it that he has to find it again in his new life.

Something. Or someone.

TW: mental health

Lucas sometimes hated it to be the son of a famous politician, his every step being watched from some kind of media.

But on evenings like this, he enjoyed it.

The hall was big and full of people by now, the dinner part being already over and the first drinks were being served. Lucas was standing next to his parents for now, his hands buried into the pockets of his suit trousers, his tie already coming a bit loose from fumbling too much with it. He owned some suits and although he nearly always wore joggers and a sweatshirt, feeling comfortable with these kind of clothes the most, he also felt good in a good black suit from time to time.

Lucas was usually not the kind of son who was acting as a representative, smiling at strangers and shaking hands till his wrist was hurting. But he did it tonight because he knew what would come after it: The time of his life with his friends while all the adults were too drunk to even notice that the boys were drinking more and more of the fancy and expensive wine.

“Don’t exaggerate it today, young man”, said his mum now, leaning down to him so that the illustrious guest of his father wouldn’t hear her. And Lucas only smirked, laying a hand on the arm of his mum.

“I was not the one who danced on the tables on our last party”, said Lucas equally quiet and his mother huffed a laugh, slightly ruffling through his hair. He had a good relationship to his mum who always wanted the best for him. It was sometimes difficult, having over protective parents. But at least he had a family who loved him. And that was enough for him.

Lucas had been starting to look around for a few minutes now, searching. Usually he only waited desperately for his friends to arrive. But today… he waited for another person. Lucas ran a hand through his hair instinctively, plucking on his suit so it may look good.

He didn’t want to look for no one in particular, of course.

“When will your friends arrive, Lucas?”, asked his father now, turning his head into the direction of his son. Lucas jumped a bit, his dad pulling him out of his thoughts with his words. It wasn’t always easy with his dad, but since he lost control one time and Lucas did not just stood by and watched the whole scene, he tried to behave. But since that faithful day, things had been… difficult between the two of them.

But Lucas wouldn’t do a thing differently.

He would always protect his mum, no matter what it would cost and if he had to hurt his own dad to do so.

“I think they have to come any minute by—”

“LULU!”

Lucas started to grin before turning around. Other guests were also turning around, shaking their heads at the three young adults doing weird dances in the entrance to the hall now, gaining every attention through that.

Speaking of the devil…

“Don’t blame me, Lucas”, said his father now seriously, a warning undertone in his voice. And Lucas only nodded, not wanting to talk with his father about his behavior just now.

“See you”, he said while kissing the cheek from his mum and rushing over to his friends who just entered the big hall.

“Hey, hey, hey”, said Lucas with a laugh and greeted all of them with their usual handshake. Yann, Arthur and Basile were wearing suits too, they would only stick out more than they already did otherwise and since they’ve been to countless parties of these kind before, they got used to looking all fancy.

“Thank you for inviting us”, said Arthur now and looked around, taking in the decorations and the snooty people who were already watching the young generation kind of annoyed.

“Am I imagining things or did they all got even more stuck-up?”

Lucas laughed and ran a hand through his hair, pulling his friends towards the bar where all of the alcohol already waited for them.

“Nope, you’re absolutely right. I would fucking die out of boredom if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“Always at your service, monsieur Lallemant”, said Yann now with a mocking bow and Lucas drove his elbow into the rips of the other one, making him double over with a laugh.

“You can be glad that I still invite you. That my parents still don’t have enough from you.”

“They can also be glad that some life comes in this funeral-like party”, said Basile now and wrinkled his nose while watching the old gentlemen and ladies.

They arrived in front of the bar now, Lucas leaning against the counter with a grin. All of them were now old enough that no one could tell them when to stop. And at parties like this, no one wanted to stop.

“Gentlemen, are you ready for a good party?”

Lucas was greeted with a loud howl before the first glasses were passed around and the party finally really started.

“I’ve invited Eliott.”

Lucas already lost count of how many glasses of wine they already had. He was not drunk yet, only the dull feeling inside his head was already there, blurring out the other people around him who were still looking at them with judgement in their eyes.

Lucas couldn’t care less.

The DJ finally started to put on some good music, Lucas and his friends being the first on the dance floor and the mood finally started to get a bit lighter, some adults already drunk as fuck. But Lucas wanted at least to stay a little bit sober. He couldn’t take his mind away from imagining Eliott in a suit. With his messy hair and his grey-blue eyes and they would maybe dance together and…

“You did what?!”

Yann was screaming loudly over the music, already a little tipsy while downing another glass of wine.

“I invited Eliott. He should be here any second from now on.”

“This is the worst idea you ever had”, slurred Basile, already being totally wasted. Lucas didn’t know how one could get so drunk in that little time. But Basile always surprised him again and again.

Lucas sighed deeply, leaning against the wall behind them. They were currently taking a break from dancing, Lucas’ hair already sticking slightly to his forehead and he drove his hands through them furiously. The bass was vibrating to his veins and Lucas was once again really fucking happy that his phonophobia was not triggered by loud music.

“You have no idea how he really is.”

“Enlighten us”, said Arthur now, raising his eyebrows in anticipation.

“He is cute and really gentle and we nearly kissed and…”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on a second, lover boy”, said Yann now, his eyes widened in shock, “You nearly kissed him?!”

“That’s what I said.”

“God, Lulu, you’re hopelessly in love.”

Lucas froze, staring at Yann now.

“What?”

“You’re in love, Lulu. No warning from our side can help you anymore”, said Arthur dramatically, leaning against Yann as if he needed support because of all the terrible things he just learned, “It’s helpless guys, we failed.”

Lucas rolled his eyes now at the dramatic shit Arthur was talking. Basile wasn’t even paying attention anymore, snatching the glass from Lucas’ and emptied it one go.

“Don’t be stupid. I am not—”

“Hey. I—"

Lucas swirled around and nearly stumbled over his own feet as he saw who was standing in front of him. Eliott stopped in his sentence, his lips slightly parting as he took Lucas in while his eyes seemed to widen more and more at the young man he saw in front of him.

“Hey”, said Lucas, clearing his throat now, his heart beating faster again. It became a habit now, it seemed.

God, please, he didn’t overheard that conversation, didn’t he?

But Eliott didn’t seem to care or to hear him or to even react at all.

“Fuck.”

Lucas frowned as this word escaped Eliott’s mouth, the word actually being a huff of breath. His gaze was now wandering from Lucas’ feet up to his legs, to his chest till Eliott found Lucas’ eyes again. Lucas was completely confused, looking down at himself now. Did Eliott think he looked ridiculous?

“Um…”

And the insecurity in Lucas’ voice seemed to snap Eliott out of whatever state he was currently in. He shook his head lightly, a smile appearing on his lips now.

“I—Sorry, I – I was elsewhere with my mind”, said Eliott now while biting his lips, still looking at Lucas with that expression in his eyes Lucas couldn’t quite name.

Lucas laughed a bit nervously, aware that all of his friends were watching them.

“I’m glad you came”, said Lucas now quietly, taking one step towards Eliott. The other boy looked down on Lucas, one of the most purest smiles Lucas had ever seen on his lips.

“How could I decline your invitation? Maybe I will end up like the pole in front of my house then.”

Lucas laughed quietly, producing a smile on Eliott’s lips with this too.

Fuck, he looks absolutely beautiful.

Eliott was wearing a black suit with a burgundy tie, his hair as messy as usual. The suit looked like he was made exactly for him and Lucas didn’t had to take a look around to see that a lot of females in this room where staring at the beautiful boy in front of him.

“So… You already know my friends, right?”

Eliott nodded, smiling at all of them.

“So, to clarify some things: No, I’m not a vampire. Yes, I murdered half a dozen of people. No, I will not study my whole life on the college. And yes, I do care for Lucas and won’t kidnap him.”

Yann, Arthur and Basile were staring at him with an open mouth, Lucas looking absolutely shocked. The air between them was tight, the mood could switch to a very, very bad level in any second.

But suddenly, Yann laughed.

Lucas’ jaw dropped.

Yann was now taking a step towards Eliott, grinning at him and poking him in the chest.

“We only wanted to keep Lucas away from you because we thought you were creepy. Turns out that you’re even more creepy than we thought”, said Yann while laughing and handing Eliott a glass of wine, “Since it’s too late to keep our dreamer boy away from you, I will try to arrange myself with you and your given creepiness.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that”, said Eliott with a grin on his lips.

And Lucas couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Did his friends suddenly start to accept his crush out of nowhere? Did his friends suddenly accommodated Eliott into their gang?

Maybe it was only the influence of the alcohol, maybe it was the hot air inside the hall. But Arthur, Basile and Yann were suddenly gathering around Eliott, talking with him, laughing with him.

And Lucas was standing there, smiling like an idiot.

Because his friends finally seemed to understand what Lucas could see in Eliott what others couldn’t see.

“Well, after we all shared our deepest secrets and confessed our true love to each other”, started Arthur with a grin before lifting his glass, “It’s time to get this party really started.”

And Lucas couldn’t help but join the others in their laughter.

The alcohol level in the whole hall was rising with every second. A lot of the grown-ups already lost control, dancing the night away or embarrassing themselves in front of their oh-so-fancy friends. Tomorrow, the newspapers would be full with scandals and stories about this event and Lucas couldn’t wait to read all of them.

Right now, he was living his best life.

Yann, Arthur and Basile were already totally wasted, holding themselves up with the help from the others while trying to dance without falling down every second. Lucas couldn’t stop laughing at Basile trying to stand up from the floor, screaming for help from others while laughing so much that he was already crying. These were the moments you would never forget in your life.

Lucas wasn’t that drunk today.

But only to enjoy the moments he had with Eliott.

Eliott seemed to feel comfortable in their surroundings, dancing with his friends. The best thing on this evening were the little, nearly unintentional touches from Eliott. A hand on his waist, fingers brushing his own, his lips touching Lucas’ ears whenever he tried to say something to Lucas over the loud music. Lucas’ skin seemed to be alive even more whenever Eliott touched him and he came to a point, where everything he wanted was to be alone with Eliott.

“We’re gonna get some fresh air”, slurred Yann while holding Basile upright who looked like he was about to throw up.

“I think I might be sick”, murmured Basile and Lucas shooed all of them out, telling them to get the hell out of here and to throw up outside. His parents would never forgive them if one of his friends threw up in the hall and to be honest, Lucas could understand their anger.

“Don’t forget to hold Basile’s hair out of his face, okay?”, said Lucas laughing while Arthur dismissed him lazily, being the one who was still a tiny bit the master over his own senses.

“Try not to make out that much, there will be enough pictures of you getting wasted in the social media channels already without you sticking your tongue into a pretty boy”, called Arthur and followed Yann and Basile out of the hall. And Lucas was glad that it was too dark for Eliott to see him blushing.

Eliott didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, laughing and looking after the boys who were stumbling out of the hall.

“I like your friends.”

“Yeah? I hate them sometimes”, said Lucas with a tiny laugh, suddenly being all nervous.

“Who doesn’t”, said Eliott with a wink and Lucas could feel his knees getting weak at that. Suddenly, the music changed from an up-beat song to a slow ballade. And Lucas could feel his heart beating frantically in his chest. Eliott was taking a step closer to him, now laying his hand on Lucas’ waist and pulling him to him with that. Lucas gasped silently, laying his hands on the broad chest of Eliott while his mouth was getting dry. Lucas felt like he totally sobered up, taking everything in with every sense of his being.

“May I ask for this dance, monsieur Lallemant?”

“You may”, whispered Lucas.

And then, they danced.

Lucas felt like he belonged here. In Eliott’s arms. Like he always belonged there. Their bodies seemed to become one, the both of them swaying lightly on their feet while the music wrapped itself around them. Lucas couldn’t stop staring into Eliott’s eyes, some kind of fire dancing in them. The blue light from the spotlights made his eyes look even more intense, making his jawbones and cheekbones standing out.

“You look good tonight”, murmured Eliott after a while, his thumb rubbing little circles over Lucas’ waist.

“You do too.”

“I only bought this suit for you. I wanted to look decent next to you.”

“You look way more better than me”, said Lucas with a quiet laugh, shifting even closer to Eliott. He couldn’t get enough of the other one being close to him, the feeling being more intense than any high he got from any drug.

“I personally don’t think so.”

Lucas smiled at that because he just felt that Eliott meant this in the most honest way ever. And he felt flattered. Desirable. Good. Perfect.

Lucas closed his eyes now, laying his cheek against Eliott’s shoulder, breathing the other one in. Eliott laid an arm around Lucas now, pulling him even closer and Lucas couldn’t be happier in this moment.

But suddenly, the music changed again to a faster song, the beautiful moment over way too soon. They stopped with their swaying, standing like this for some more moments before Eliott broke apart from Lucas.

“I’m gonna get us something to drink, okay?”

Lucas nodded with a smile. “Okay.”

“Don’t run away, biker boy.”

Lucas laughed silently at this, stretching his arms wide as Eliott was backing away from him, his eyes never leaving his face.

“I’m gonna stay right here.”

Eliott laughed his beautiful laugh and turned around now, disappearing in the crowd of dancing people. Lucas smiled to himself, being all happy.

Being all happy and in love.

Fuck, did I really feel in love with that artist boy…?

No one ever made him feel the things Eliot made him feel. The blind trust, the feeling of being at home whenever he was with him, this deep connection which was there before they even had one proper talk and…

Boom.

And suddenly, the mood shifted.

Lucas jumped at that explosive noise, the tiny hair on his neck rising as his heart started to beat painfully fast against his ribcage.

What the fuck is happening?

Boom.

“He has a gun!”

And with that, panic was starting to spread like a fire under the dancing people. Screams erupted from several places in the hall while people started to run away, tripping over their own feet and Lucas felt the panic inside him rising uncontrollable.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuc—

Another loud noise made him go into a crouch, pressing his hands over his ears instead of running to the nearest entrance. Lucas was paralyzed with fear, his phonophobia followed by a panic attack hitting in really fucking hard.

This is not happening, this is not happening…

His eyes were darting around the room. He had to get out of here. Lucas was slowly getting up again, taking some steps on his own but people were not paying attention for others anymore – they only wanted to save themselves now, the need to get out of the danger being so high that they didn’t realize Lucas trying to fight his way through all of this.

Help.

He couldn’t even open his mouth anymore. Lucas was breathing heavily by now, panting, hyperventilating.

Too loud, too loud, too—

Someone was bumping into him and Lucas, being already a little drunk and paralyzed from his fear, lost his footing and went down on the floor.

And people didn’t seem to see him. No one tried to help him up, no one even tried to get out of his way. They kept literally walking over him, Lucas having no chance to get up again.

Boom.

Someone was shooting. Again and again and again.

People would die tonight.

His parents.

Yann, Arthur, Basile.

Eliott.

Lucas pressed his palms to his ears now, trying to block out the noises and to calm the fuck down again while he was being hit by several feet, the guest from his father’s party trying desperately to get out of here. Tears were streaming down his face and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Lucas was so afraid like he never was before in his life.

I’m dying without having kissed him.

#HERE COMES THE FEELS TRAIN MY FRIENDS #this chapter is an emotional rollercoaster #just saying #i hope you like it!!!#gimme all the feedback #skam france #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #skam france fanfic #skam france fanfiction #elu fic #elu fanfic #chasing stars ff

57 notes · View notes

thisguyatthemovies · 4 years

Text

Back to the Overlook

Title: “Doctor Sleep”

Release date: Nov. 8, 2019

Starring: Ewan McGregor, Rebecca Ferguson, Kyleigh Curran, Carl Lumbly, Zahn McClarnon, Emily Alyn Lind, Bruce Greenwood, Jocelin Donahue, Alex Essoe, Cliff Curtis, Jacob Tremblay, Carel Struycken

Directed by: Mike Flanagan

Run time: 2 hours, 31 minutes

Rated: R

What it’s about: Danny Torrance, whose father went mad in 1980’s “The Shining,” is a middle-aged man now battling alcoholism and dealing with his childhood trauma. He meets a teen girl who also has “the shine,” and they cross paths with a gang that preys upon similarly gifted young people and feeds on their shine.

How I saw it: Director/writer Mike Flanagan made many sound decisions when tackling a difficult task – making “Doctor Sleep,” based on the 2013 Stephen King novel which is a follow-up to his 1977 book, “The Shining,” which was turned into the 1980 film of the same name by Stanley Kubrick. He took great liberties with the original book, much to King’s chagrin, but made a film that is now considered a classic.

Flanagan could have made a film much like Kubrick’s, and that would have suited nostalgia-seeking moviegoers just fine. Instead, he set out to make a film that shares storylines, characters and settings with the original book and film, but is its own entity and more closely follows King’s follow-up novel than Kubrick did with the first book. He also decided against bringing back actors from the first film (it was almost 40 years ago, after all), resisted the temptation to digitally add characters from “The Shining,” and when the new film revisits the first, he enlisted actors who sort of look like the original characters and had them capture the essence of those characters instead of impersonations or caricatures. Flanagan set out to make a film that pays homage to the original without repeating it.

Those decisions pay off handsomely in the first three-fourths of “Doctor Sleep.” Even though it is evident from the get-go that the two films are related (we revisit the young Danny), this film has more action and more heart, and it doesn’t lean so heavily on tension. It has a captivating villain, and it plays more like a vampire movie/psychological thriller with a dash of comic-book superhero traits than Kubrick’s slow-burn study of cabin fever and insanity.

And then “Doctor Sleep” goes full-blown “The Shining” revisited in the final act, and though it doesn’t derail an otherwise outstanding movie, it makes for a bumpy ride, one that could have taken us to a better destination. Whether or not this shift bothers you depends on what you expected from “Doctor Sleep.” If you are watching because you want to be reminded of the 1980 film, then you won’t mind. If you were enjoying what “Doctor Sleep” promised for nearly two hours, then the final act’s shift will be noticeable, perhaps a touch disappointing.

Danny Torrance (Ewan McGregor) was a young boy when his father Jack went mad while snowed in at the Overlook Hotel in the first book/movie. “Doctor Sleep” is set more than 30 years later, and Danny, now a middle-aged man, still is trying to overcome his traumatic pass, mostly by drinking it away. He decides to run away from his problems and moves to New Hampshire, where he sets about getting sober. But Danny, who still has telepathic abilities known as “the shine,” is contacted by a teen girl, Abra (Kyliegh Curran), with the same abilities. Eventually she will be pursued by True Knot, a cult whose members kill similarly gifted young people and feed off their shine in an effort to stay immortal, and their leader, Rose the Hat (Rebecca Ferguson). Abra and Danny team up to defeat Rose and her followers, with Abra trying to convince Danny to embrace the shine and use it instead of viewing it as simply a link to the horrors of his youth.

McGregor is solid as current day Danny, but Flanagan does not ask him to carry the movie. At times that falls upon Curran’s Abra, and a scene in which Danny speaks through Abra while she is being abducted is one of the film’s best. But mostly Ferguson steals the show. She vamps it up as Rose and is as alluring as she is evil. Flanagan’s camera clearly loves her, as Ferguson gets many close-ups and delivers a star-making performance. Cliff Curtis is excellent as a kind man who befriends Danny and helps him stay sober.

“Doctor Sleep” isn’t a bloodbath, but it includes several disturbing images and moments. The most unsettling of them is when the True Knot pursues a young baseball player in Iowa, and his abduction (by people in a van while he walks alone on a rural road) is just the beginning of the unpleasantness. The True Knot will get more life from the boy’s shine if his death is as painful as possible, so Rose tortures the boy as he is dying, and then her cult buries him behind an ethanol plant. There’s no way to sugarcoat how difficult the scene is to watch.

Rose, now working alone, eventually tracks Abra and Danny, and they lead her to – where else? – the Overlook Hotel, where Danny hopes to defeat Rose and erase his past. It’s here that Flanagan veers away from King’s follow-up book and toward Kubrick’s film. In the 2013 book, Abra and Danny lead Rose to the former site of the Overlook. But Flanagan builds his final scene around a still standing but long-ago closed Overlook. The setting and characters will seem familiar to anyone who has seen the 1980 film – maybe too familiar, to the point of distraction. “Doctor Sleep” starts feeling like a trip to a museum dedicated to the original film instead of being its own movie, and that takes away some of the steam from what otherwise could have been a great final showdown. To complicate matters, Flanagan uses the ending from King’s original book (an ending that Kubrick sidestepped) to tie up the loose ends to this sequel movie.

Perhaps the heavy emphasis on “The Shining” couldn’t be helped. No doubt any reference Flanagan could make to the first film would help the box-office prospects of “Doctor Sleep.” But he had done such a masterful job of creating a balanced mash-up of books and a film until the final act that the climactic scene, while it doesn’t ruin an otherwise entertaining film, seems more nostalgic side trip than satisfying conclusion.

My score: 77 out of 100

Should you see it? Yes, if you are a fan of horror films that aim higher than just jump-scares and/or you are curious about the connections to “The Shining.” If you are sensitive to disturbing scenes that include young people, proceed with caution.

#movies #movie review #movie recommendation #doctor sleep #the shining #horror #stephen king #ewan mcgregor #rebecca ferguson #overlook hotel

6 notes · View notes

thejenesaisquoigirl · 4 years

Text

DnD Ask Meme- Talise

Link to original, blank meme: https://thejenesaisquoigirl.tumblr.com/post/186529464305/dnd-asks More about my tiefling swashbuckler under the cut~!

1) What would they consider to be their biggest failure?

Oof. Maybe not being able to save her family, or at least her sister-in-law and nephew. Maybe her (former) deep reliance on alcohol once her memories started coming back. Trauma is a motherfucker

2) What’s the story behind their name?

When I first went to grad school visit days at my current institution two years ago, there was another person interviewing with a name that sounded similar. Really loved it and added on LaPearl for her alias’ last name (for her eyes). Her birth name is my Warden from Dragon Age Origins (Hozanna Cousland, only more french) since the backstory shares a lot of similarities.

3) What’s their relationship with their family?

When she was Hosanna, very close. They all loved learning (though maybe different things), the people in their city, and each other. She was closest to her brother, Yanis, despite their age difference. She felt adrift after losing them and finding Yanis has upset any equilibrium she was finding.

4) What’s one song that describes them or is them?

The cover of Rise that Superfruit did on their channel

5) Who is their best friend?

Yanis was her best friend growing up; the years after losing him were rough but she was working towards a place of resignation...then they found him alive. As Talise, it’s super weird because yes, her brother used to be able to embarrass her in her previous life; but now, it’s the first time she’s ever felt shame. Hosanna, while sharing a small flair for the dramatic, was a very different person than Talise was crafted to be. But in the party, Jax is the closest to a best friend.

6) Why are they their class?

She was reincarnated by a coast druid, and it was only natural to join a crew due to not remembering her past right away. Her previous skill with dueling with a rapier mixed with her familiarity with locks led to her embellishing her new self into the type of sailor one would find in a storybook.

7) What do they think of their party members?

She feels distinct lines in the sand amongst the party. At first, said lines seemed only about their sleeping habits (there was no other way the rooming arrangements could have shaken out and everyone live). But now, it feels very much like two separate factions working together. Separately: Q- she’s terrified of everything she does being in that book, and she has a hard time wrestling with his innocent naiveté when it reminds her of who she used to be. Briony- Not used to being around women in a strictly friendship sense, but is happy for her presence so Q has someone of a similar maturity. Braxton- He’s rarely there. Annoyed yet darkly amused when he takes point with trap checking and lock-picking; annoyed because she assumes he believes himself an expert in everything (maybe due to him being slightly misogynistic)...amused because she's better and it’s funny to watch him fail due to his own hubris. Jax- They instinctually understand each other. It’s complicated but in a good way as she thinks the world of him. Caspian- Like recognizes like but she feels they have different motivations behind collecting information...and it’s hard for her to move beyond a betrayal of trust. She does enjoy bantering with him and sharing a penchant for innuendo.

8) In what ways are they similar to you?

Insightful, observant, curious, collector of knowledge, has two sides to protect her softness

9) In what ways are they different from you?

Unashamed in the way she moves through the world, unabashedly flirtatious and teasing, confident, how she copes with things (tends to be physical indulgences), seeing trust as black and white, unafraid of confrontation or large birds

10) What do they look for in a romantic partner, if they have a romantic orientation?

She’s super pan and attracted to interesting people. She loves those who keep her guessing and have layers she can explore without ever becoming bored. With a lot of hidden quirks, they need to be fine in indulging her intense love for museums or sleeping in until the latest time possible. Because of stuff that happened in her past, she needs someone who she feels safe with and who can handle that baggage. Someone who can keep up with her banter but who can be soft with her; she wants an equal partner and not someone who she has to take the reins from all the time. So confidence, intelligence, depth, strength, compassion.

11) If they had a patronus or animagus form, what would it be?

Ooooooooo....idk. Maybe a panther animagus? Something that slinks around with confidence but can be very soft. Patronus would be a cat like Talis or a hippogriff like Fantôme...or a peafowl.

12) What do they smell like?

The ocean and "oriental” notes with hints of coconut and citrus. Someone who has sailed the coastline would have had the opportunity to collects lots of sachets of things to scent their clothing along with various oils, etc which lends itself to the “oriental” perfume family.

13) What is their secret skill?

Sketching/drawing. She’s intensely private about it; but has charcoal, pencils, and a sketchbook in her pack that’s rather like a diary.

14) What is their relationship to spirituality?

Non-existent save for some superstitions. Hosanna was religious but not superstitious; Talise reversed it as she had a hard time retaining her faith in anything.

15) If they were to be remembered for something, what would they want to be remembered for?

NOT for what happened in her previous life, unless that remembrance served the greater good. She’d just like to be remembered, in general, rather than lost to lines in a book. She wants people to speak kindly of her and the small amount of goodness she’s put into the world.

16) Why did they become an adventurer?

Chance meeting in Dolcino when she was taking a break from sailing haha And news of Yanis came up on their travels so she had to see it through.

17) What’s one thing about their backstory that came to you after you already started playing the campaign?

One notable thing--hadn’t even thought about her being an alcoholic (sober now) until making her playlist. For some reason, “Chandelier” kept coming up and it had to have been a sign because it’s deepened her in ways I wasn’t expecting. Also her tattoos. And her not being a morning person xD

18) Do you have any headcanons for them that haven’t come up in game? Or headcanons for other party members?

Absolutely. Her tattoos and why she has them (only one person in the party has probably seen them); what drove her to her alcoholism; and her sketching. Other party members: Q- that he has tried to teach some magic to Quirrel enough times that Quirrel can mimic the somatic components of some spells; that he’s instantly awake in the mornings with a pep in his step. Briony- that she genuinely doesn’t know or understand how privileged she is and so makes statements about some type of princess-y thing she thinks is normal but is very much not. Jax- he has Talise braid his hair before sleeping because it’s more effective than a ponytail in keeping it neat at night; he quietly chats with Francis when he needs to think through things weighing on his mind; he keeps a tiny, secret notebook to make notes to himself on things he remembers, things he enjoys, etc. Caspian- when he reads dialogue he really likes in books, he’ll speak it aloud until he figures out the exact voice for the character so he can use it for later;

19) Any ships with your character? If a PC or NPC, what interaction launched it?

She’s the first character in a LONG time I legit ship with another PC. Whether it becomes romantic or remains platonic (it’s not just up to me or Talise), Jax is the most significant person in her life–excluding her brother. They just got each other from day one and they seem to be the only ones able to easily talk to the other, even when the subject is difficult. The canon you created about her feeling safe with Jax is 100% true; ever since Before, she has a hard time sleeping around other people but she trusts him enough to even share a bed…and he’s the only one with whom she would never be anything but truthful. At their core, they are people reinventing themselves after tragedy but don’t know if they’re doing it right. But Jax makes Talise feel it’s alright to be who she authentically is rather than acting the part she’s written for herself; and to find joy again in the things from her past. The ship’s legit launch was after their serious conversation about “equivalent exchange” in relationships (about Caspian) and has since been buoyed by all their side chats + interactions. “…are you just going to stare at me?” “Until you’re ready.”

20) What would your character consider their biggest success? Or what is your favorite success your character has had so far?

Finding her brother and beginning to reconcile Hosanna with Talise. My favorite success was that conversation mentioned above...or successfully surprising characters and peeps with her backstory drops.

#dnd #ref for character #food for asks #reference #fuzzy feathers #dnd ask meme #dnd asks

2 notes · View notes

snoweylily · 5 years

Text

I feel like the Umbrella Academy students just got worse and worse as they went along, like good ole’ Reggie put all his effort into the first one or two and then was like “fuck it, they’ll follow their siblings lead” and just started to ignore them. Which, ironically enough, caused even the best behaved superhero to lash out in the end. Aka. Here’s my rant about Sir Reginald’s A+ Parenting and why the Hargreeves will never function in society correctly again.

First up, you’ve got Luther Follow-Every-Single-Thing-That-Dad-Says Hargreeves who played by the rules, studied hard, and ate his vegetables. He’s the ~Former Gifted Kid™~ of the group, and stays when everyone else leaves because he’s Number One and Number One must always be a good little soldier. He blindly follows Sir Reginald, literally to the moon and back, and refuses to believe that he could die of natural causes because of course his dad is invincible he’s his dad. Despite all the tests, despite the biochemical accident, despite seeing what their ‘childhood’ did to his siblings, he can’t not still believe in their father, because even when Reginald was 100% completely and totally in the wrong, Luther blames himself.

Next up, Diego I-Don’t-Care-He-Says-Caringly-As-He-Cares-Deeply Hargreeves. Sure, he’s reckless and rebellious now, but being always compared to Number One, always living in the shadow of his bigger better best brother, would do that to a person (read: Loki Laufeyson). So he turned his back on his father and threw all his efforts into becoming an unofficial vigilante. The police academy would never accept him, after all, when he displays such a profound hatred towards obeying orders. He realises now what a sick and manipulative bastard Reginald was, and has become cynical and bitter. He will never be anything other than number two, after all.

Allison Well-This-Is-A-Shit-Situation-Let’s-Try-To-Make-The-Best-Of-It Hargreeves decided to use her training to improve her life, becoming rich, famous, successful... and unhappy. I Heard A Rumor allowed her to not only lie to the people around her, but also to lie to herself. She doesn’t like the life she leads, but hey, at least she’s now the manipulator rather than the manipulatee, right? Her close relationship with Luther always prevented her from acting out too much, but now even that is crumbling around her, so, you know, thanks dad. She’s been living in her own illusion for so long, she doesn’t know what to do with reality anymore.

Number 4, the ignored I-Came-Out-To-Have-A-Good-Time-But-Honestly-I’m-Feeling-So-Attacked-Right-Now middle child was the beginning of the end. Klaus kept himself to himself, not wanting to follow in his older siblings footsteps, but not knowing how to resist his ‘training’ either. So instead of embracing it like Luther or accepting it like Diego or even using it to his advantage like Allison, he tries to block it out, with drugs and alcohol and sex. Being locked in a mausoleum on a regular basis from 5 years old onward might just have something to do with that. He refuses to conform to gender binaries or sexual orientations, and this combined with the addictions makes him an unstable liability in his siblings eyes. Sir Reginald, never father, never dad, pushed him more than he did any other student, shoving him to the breaking point again and again and again yet never teaching him how to pick up the pieces afterwards. Alive, but not living, not caring what happens to him, not even caring when he was tortured for over 10 hours straight because the “Hey, guess what? No one’s going to even know I’m missing” apathy he experiences is a feeling he’s very familiar with. And don’t even get me started on Vietnam.

Next is the I’m-Too-Old-To-Live-But-Too-Young-To-Die time traveler, not even having a name to call his own, let alone a home. Number Five refuses to abide by Reginald’s rules, being too sure, too arrogant, too rebellious to listen to his warnings. He jumps. And he gets stuck. A 60-year-old in a 10-year-old’s body, a world of contradictions. A black coffee drinker like a seasoned soldier, but a peanut-butter-and-jelly eater like an over-excited child, he doesn’t know how to fit his future into his past. His siblings still see him as the kid brother they tragically lost at such a young age, and continue to treat him as one, resulting in a childish tantrum with a grown-up coping mechanism that leaves Diego and Luther searching for his drunk ass, and not for the being-beaten-up-as-we-speak Klaus. He wants to end it all but know he can’t, not now, not with the impending apocalypse, not when I’ve-literally-just-sat-down-and-you’re-telling-me-I-only-have-eight-days-to-save-the-entire-fucking-world?!?!

By the time Ben arrived, the rest of the siblings were a mass of confusion, chaos, and mistrust and he had an actual monster inside of him begging to be let out, his entire life being the very epitome of This-Is-So-Sad-Alexa-Play-Despacito. So, he keeps to himself but continues to observe, really only interacting with Klaus and even then, it’s long after his death before No.4 is sober enough to talk back. But still, he sticks around despite the constant reminder of his terrible gruesome death, realising that out of all of his siblings, Klaus is the one who need the most protecting (even if that means protecting him from himself). He’s sarcastic but caring, looking out for his addict brother on more than one occasion, no matter how ghostly he currently is. It’s only in Number 6′s death, and therefore his freedom from Reginald’s clutches, that he’s able to become the person he always should have been. Dying saved him.

And finally, Vanya With-Great-Power-Comes-Zero-Responsibility Hargreeves, too powerful for even Sir Reginald to control, so hey, lets just slap some pills on and lies on that and hope it goes away. She’s left out from the very beginning because “there’s nothing special about you” and children can be cruel. Especially super-powered, manipulated and emotionally abused children. She’s convinced that she’s ordinary, boring, a fluke with a mediocre talent for the violin. So what does she do? Well, what any good Hargreeves student would do! Repress the absolute shit out of those emotions. She proves herself caring and kind, leaving snacks out for her missing brother every night without fail, she tries to become a musical prodigy to get some form of recognition from her father, and eventually, when she snaps, all these feelings and desperate desires to be included results in her killing two men, almost killing her sister and, oh yea, starting the apocalypse.

So, in conclusion: Good job, Reggie.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

52 notes · View notes

florianwirtz · 5 years

Text

It’s not right, but it’s okay - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Warnings: strong language, mentions of drug use

It was one of those cold Liverpool nights where Trent had decided to go out as his tight schedule allowed him to do nothing on the next day. Nevertheless, he found himself leaving the club earlier than originally planned as he quickly realised that being the only sober person surrounded by all of his drunk friends was no fun at all.

Never in his life did he expect what would happen to him on his way home.

At this time of the night, the streets were empty, the street and car light the only source of vision he had while he was driving.

Which is why he nearly didn't spot the person sitting on the curb near a bus stop, face buried and hands wrapped around her knees. The first thing he noticed was the short pants and thin jacket the person was wearing which made him frown confusedly. Liverpool at night in this season was anything but warm

The good person he was, he decided to stop by and offer some help as his instinct told him that something might be wrong with her. Because even if it was just a homeless person, he knew that sometimes a simple conversation was enough to make a person's day.

"Are you okay?" He asked cautiously while standing in front of her, waiting for her to reveal her face.

The figure flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, probably only realising now that he was speaking to her and slowly raised her head to see who was bothering her.

He couldn't believe who was sitting in front of him.

"Wait... I know you!" Trent called out your name in a questioning tone as he didn't know how to greet you, his former best friend. Due to the hood which hid every space of your hair, he only managed to identify you now.

You only chuckled quietly at his surprised expression. "This is everything you have to say to an old friend of yours, after all this time? How long has it been, three years?"

His eyes only eyed you up as a response which only made you laugh louder. But it wasn't a joyful laugh, it was full of irony and bitterness and so was your response.

"Do I look so miserable so that my presence made you speechless?"

"N-no it's not like that." He finally managed to stammer out, now unsettled by your snappy reaction. "I simply didn't expect you to sit here all alone, that's why. I mean you're evidently not dressed appropriately for this weather so why would you voluntarily sit here in the cold? Where are your friends? Or your boyfriend?" He asked as he had the Instagram pictures of you and people he didn't know in mind, assuming they were from your friends from college. He also remembered the picture with a boy, standing a bit too close for his taste to being considered only as a friend.

"If this is all what you have to say, then you're welcome to leave me alone now." Your glance was cold, your words harsh, making Trent flinch one step back. Now he felt even more unsure about how to approach you as everything he seemed to say was wrong. Nothing reminded him of the warm personality he had always appreciated anymore. It was like he was talking to a stranger and not a person he used to call best friend.

An awkward silence appeared as for some reason Trent was unable to go away even though you just told him to get lost. Maybe it was his instinct which told him that your inexplicable rudeness towards him was only a cover-up for a call for help. Or maybe it was just his characteristic to believe in the good nature of humans always and made him feel responsible to stay and figure out what your problem was.

So instead of going back to his car, he offered you his hand.

"Come on, I'll drive you home, you will freeze yourself to death otherwise."

And he achieved the reaction he wanted as your repellent expression changed to a surprised one since you were used to people leaving you alone as soon as they realised you weren't too keen to talk to them. But Trent was different compared to the others, instead of giving up he tried, again and again, not being scared of receiving another snappy reaction of yours.

"I'm not cold and I can't go home, my mam thinks I'm with a friend, she will kill me if she sees me like this." You said without any intention to move from your current place. "Just drive home, I'll survive somehow."

While you still weren't ready to cooperate with him, the sudden vulnerability in your voice didn't go unnoticed and as he squatted down in front of you and took a closer look at you, he immediately saw the exhausted and dejected eyes behind your stern expression. His concerns and suspicions about your stubbornness to stay here were confirmed as you immediately tried to turn your face away as soon as his hand tried to examine it further, but your reaction was too slow so that he managed to get a hold of your face.

"Are you on drugs?!" He immediately asked after seeing a shade of redness in your pupils, the concern and disbelief in his voice clearly audible. "Oh god, you did drink as well, I can smell it." Never in his life did he thought you'd end up as a person who would spend their nights like this since his memory had you as a well-behaved and joyful person in mind. On the other hand, he knew that a person could change a lot within three years but then again, you were the last person he had expected to end up like this.

"I'll manage, I'm used to this, just leave already, yeah?" Without responding to his question, you harshly freed yourself from his grip, the softness in your voice all gone. "Look, we're not friends anymore even if you're currently pretending to care but I don't want any of your concern if you're going to forget me again the next day, so kindly piss off!" While you let your emotions take over you, you already tried to stand up in order to leave by yourself but of course, your reaction speed was restricted due to your drug use earlier on so that Trent was able to get a grip of your wrist immediately and wasn't ready to let go of it soon.

"Don't be ridiculous. Something serious could happen in your current state and you shouldn't be alone right now. Let me help you. You can come home with me, you can sleep in my room." He proposed without further thought just to calm you down and win your trust.

Unfazed by his suggestion, you only frowned at him. "Trent, you live with your parents, they surely won't welcome me with open arms."

"They're already sleeping, we can sneak you in, no worries, yeah? I'm not going to let you stay in the cold, whether you like it or not."

His voice sounded so determined and certain, you realised that you had no other choice than to accept his suggestion. And even though you'd never admit it, you were slightly delighted not to spend your night in the streets of Liverpool like you had planned.

Eventually, you slowly nodded your head approvingly as a sign that you were coming with him which made Trent smile at you encouragingly. He then led you to his car and gave you the blanket lying in the backseat as the effect of the alcohol in your blood slowly faded away, making you feel the low temperatures for the first time.

The entire ride to his home was quiet, nothing else but a few subtle glances were exchanged as none of you knew about what topic to speak without coming off as small talk. And you felt more uncomfortable than ever, the broken friendship between you two had affected you more than you'd ever like to admit even though you had been convinced that you were over it but just feeling his touch on your skin and hearing his fond voice again was enough to remind you of all the pain you had felt by missing him since you had grown apart.

After arriving at Trent's home, a much bigger building than the one in your neighbourhood he had previously lived in, he put his finger to his mouth, signalling you to be quiet as he wasn't sure if anyone was still awake at this hour.

Ultimately, you sneaked the stairs up to his room, trying to make as little noise as possible until you suddenly missed the next step and slipped on the staircase, landing with your knees and hands on the cold material.

You winced at the slight pain caused by your fall and Trent immediately put his hand protectively on you, concerned that you had seriously hurt yourself until he saw you trying to control your burst of laughter.

"Reminds me of the time when we used to steal candy from the kitchen and tried to be as discreet as possible, eh?"

And you weren't sure if it were the drugs still affecting your behaviour or the fact that this all felt familiar, but it made you feel unexplainably giggly and also leaving a confused Trent there. But eventually, he cracked a grin as well, leading to him quickly grabbing your hand and rushing to his room as you could barely hold your laughs together and let it out onto one of his pillows.

After you managed to calm down, he showed you the bathroom including an additional toothbrush and lent you one of his old sweaters to change.

It all reminded you of easier times and after crawling in his bed, you definitely felt like you were kids again, only missing him lying next to you.

Instead, he stood beside his door, ready to leave but before making sure that you were okay.

"I'll go sleep downstairs, yeah? I'm just gonna say I was so tired, I passed out on the couch. I'll come back next morning and try to sneak you out."

"Can't you... stay? Like at least hold me until I fall asleep and protect me from all the monsters coming at night?" You chuckled shortly at your reference to nightmares you used to have when in reality, you were just trying to cover up the nervousness you felt by asking.

But then you saw his surprised expression which made you immediately conclude that it was a dumb idea of yours to ask.

"Sorry, forget that I asked I-"

"No no, it's fine." He immediately interrupted you. "I was just surprised because you didn't seem too fond of me before." Hesitantly, he made himself comfortable on the space beside you and cautiously put an arm around you.

You didn't dare to move as the sudden closeness between you two sparked all the different feelings you had felt before at once. On the one hand, you wanted to push him away and numb all the emotions you felt towards him as thinking of him had brought you so much pain and tears. On the other hand, you wanted the friend you had lost over the years of growing older back because no matter what you tried to make yourself believe, you knew that you'd always take him back.

"I only was so snappy to you because I wanted to pretend that I'm perfectly fine without you." You finally blurted out the truth after meeting his remark with silence. "Because seeing you doing even better without me destroyed me."

He didn't know what you meant with your last sentence but didn't dare to demand either. Instead, he pulled you even closer, signalling that he wasn't going anywhere soon. For this night at least. And this time you didn't flinch at his attempt to touch you on your arm.

"Honestly, I don't even remember how our friendship fell apart anyway."

Suddenly, you felt a lump in your throat, unable to answer anything without sounding bitter but in the end, you decided to speak it out anyway.

"Probably a mix of you moving away and becoming a regular for the first team and me finding new friends. Becoming an adult I guess."

Once again he noticed the bitter irony you were speaking with, this time he realised that he was definitely at least partly at fault of the break of your friendship.

"I'm not trying to find excuses or anything, but I admit that I could've texted you more at least, considering that you always asked me how I've been. But life got really busy after I signed my first professional contract, you know."

"I'm over it, I guess. I understand that you were busy. Though I agree with you, sometimes I would've loved to know how Liverpool's golden boy was doing."

"Don't call me like that" He chuckled softly at your last remark even though laughing seemed not appropriate at the moment. "Maybe I thought you were doing fine without me as well because you were posing with all of your new friends. Even though I don't trust them, were they those who introduced you to drugs?"

For the first time in this conversation, you moved from your position on your side so that you forced him to let go of you and face you instead of looking at the ceiling.

"Well, they are the ones who cared or at least pretended to care unlike you who just stopped answering my texts and hanging out with me even though you only live like 10 minutes with the car away from me. Stop making any excuses, seriously, " You hissed at him, all the anger from before returning back to you.

"If they do, then they have a strange way to show it." Trent now contradicted you in the same harsh tone you did. "The only thing I know is that my friends would never leave me alone in the streets, high and drunk, simply because someone didn't text me back. Not my fault you turned to a drug junkie!"

The last sentence wasn't meant to be spoken out loud but for some reason, it accidentally slipped from Trent's mouth. And he immediately regretted it as soon as he saw your hurt mien and the silent tears running down your cheek before you wordlessly moved to the other side of the bed, not even thinking of paying him any more attention.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, god I'm awful." He tried to pull you towards him again but you stubbornly pushed his hands from your body while also trying to wipe your tears with the back of your hands from your eyes which didn't seem to stop even though you were thinking it was a dumb thing to do.

But the remark of him certainly impacted you deeply as there was definitely some truth in it even though you hated to admit it.

Nevertheless, Trent didn't give up and repeatedly caressed your hair and neck and told you how sorry and stupid he was, not stopping to apologise and tell you that he liked you the way you are.

At some point, you finally gave in and slowly turned back to him. Your eyes were still red from crying and the quiet sniffles signalled that you weren't ready to speak after all but at least you were showing that you were willing to forgive him.

Without thinking further, he pulled you as close as you allowed him to so he was able to hold your face with both of his hands and also to remove the rest of your tears with his thumb and repeatedly whispered how much of a dick he is for his remark.

"I never wanted this to happen, I mean the drugs." Suddenly, you spoke again after remaining silent for a while. "But they introduced me to them and for some reason, it felt comforting to feel nothing for the moment. And I know you're judging me hard for this but I just wanted to let you know that I still miss you whenever I think about you. Missing my best friend who stole candies in the kitchen with me or played football with me besides me being shit at it."

"I won't judge you for this, I promise. It's partly my fault that you got involved with this, I could've stopped you. I was a dick to you and I miss you too."

Silent apologises were exchanged until one of you stayed silent and instead caressed each other's back, neither of you wanted to leave the position you were in.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your suggestion came out of nowhere, leaving Trent perplexed and confused.

"You have a boyfriend.", was the only thing Trent said to you.

"He dumped me last night."

“It’s still not right, you’re drunk and high, I don’t wanna make you regret this.”

“The effects are gone, I’m almost sober.”

And with these last words, you pressed your lips against his, not waiting for his permission to do so. It didn't matter anyway, as he seemed reassured after your last sentence cause he immediately kissed you back.

It felt better than any kiss you used to have with your so-called boyfriend, minutes of no words exchanged, just enjoying the repeated touch of each other's lips while holding each other closely and you putting your fingers through his hair.

And it didn't take long until your fingers sneaked under his shirt, finally feeling the naked skin of his back, your touch making him shiver as his mouth was wildly leaving marks on your neck, leaving you as a moaning mess.

But suddenly some sense came into his mind and the feeling of his tongue on your skin quickly disappeared, signalling you to stop as well and fastly your hands were removed from each other.

"Sorry, but we can't... when my parents are here." He said with an apologising glance before you could ask if you did something wrong which definitely wasn't the case.

You gave him a relieved look and laughed quietly as you nodded approvingly. "I understand, can you at least cuddle me to sleep?"

And you considered yourself as lucky as he threw his arms around your body while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, feeling the hot breath of him as you both fell asleep peacefully.

He woke up alone in his bed as there was no sign of you staying here. First, he couldn't deny that he was disappointed, thinking that it was only him who thought last night was special. But then he saw the small note with a spidery writing on his bedside table, having a slight chuckle as soon as he identified it.

Sorry for not saying bye but you looked so cute while sleeping. I climbed down through your window and sneaked out, so you couldn't get in trouble, luckily some things never change ;)

"Trent?" The sudden voice of his mother in front of his door made him panic for a short time but then he relaxed immediately as he realised that you were long gone.

She entered his room after he allowed her to go in and asked him about yesterday.

"I heard you coming home, was everything alright? I thought I heard laughter or something. You didn't drink, didn't you?"

"Of course not!" He immediately reassured her. "Just got a video from the boys who were full and it was just so funny."

His mother didn't seem completely convinced but she accepted her son's answer as she already wanted to make her way out.

But suddenly her face remained petrified, focusing at a certain subject which didn't seem to fit in his room and immediately picking the thin material up, holding it in front of Trent.

"Where does that jacket come from?"

#football imagine #trent alexander arnold imagine #soccer imagine #football imagines #footballer imagine #football oneshot #Football Fanfiction #reader insert

45 notes · View notes

transassbuttwriting · 5 years

Text

My 27th Birthday: Black Soul

Author’s Note: I decided to post this today (July 3) in honour of Brian Jones. It’s been 50 years without him and I believe he is in a better place. Rock on, Jones.

Word Count: 3, 282 Warning(s): Depressing narrative

Soon, Geoff was ambushed by new faces. He was overwhelmed with questions and introductions.

“Nice to meet you!”

“How did you die?”

“He looks young…”

“Do you need anything?”

Geoff’s body recoiled and his eyes darted back and forth between each person in front of him. He felt his stomach twist and he didn’t know what to do first. With everyone’s eyes on him, Geoff froze in place, standing like a caribou surrounded by wolves.

A pair of hands rested on his shoulders and pulled him back. Alexandre glared down at the other members until they returned back to their seats with their heads bowed.

“Je m’excuse, Geoff. Nous savons mieux que d’essaimer quelqu’un de nouveau.”

His expression changed quickly back to his welcoming smile. It reminded Geoff of David’s father when he was over at their house. Switching from scolding David to happily greeting Geoff. It felt strange yet comforting.

Alexandre continued, “Que diriez-vous de nettoyer? Je crois qu’il ya quelques nouveaux vêtements pour vous en haut. Il suffit d’aller à la chambre sur la droite. Je m’assurerai que tout le monde ne t’effraie plus.”

Geoff just nodded as he was pushed toward the stairs. Quietly, he climbed the stairs, hearing Alexandre’s voice get softer and softer. Through the panic from the crowd, Geoff didn’t recognize any of the faces around him. He dreaded going back down, mostly because he didn’t want to face the awkward atmosphere that fell upon a room after a lecture. However, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to meet anyone else. Geoff just wanted to go back home and sleep. If he could, that is.

Upstairs was a similar lounge room with a set of dark doors leading to two seperate rooms and a balcony. The decor didn’t change and the room remained dimly lit. Thankfully, the entire area was empty, leaving Geoff by his lonesome. It was nice to have a moment to himself, even if it wouldn’t last for very long.

He turned to the room on the right and entered. Inside was a small bed, a sink and a mirror. It was a cute arrangement with a homey vibe to it. On top of the bed was a pile of neatly folded clothing, like Alexandre said there would be. Geoff scrunched his nose as he wondered why a club would bother to provide clothes. It would have made more sense to receive a gift of alcohol. He knew he’d have to refuse it, but it wouldn’t confuse him.

With a shrug to himself, Geoff began to change out of his smoke smelling denim clothing and into the clean and comfortable clothes. It was a relief to finally get out of them. They had a noisome and earthy smell, like they had just came from the grave. If he wore those jeans and that vest for another second, he was going to throw up.

Once he changed, Geoff took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. The sweater given to him was a bit too long at the wrists so, he readjusted his sleeves. Besides that, the outfit was fine and made him look clean and sober. Geoff’s attention slowly went up to his face. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as prominent but he felt his body sink as soon as he saw them. His hair wasn’t greasy as it once was and his premature wrinkles disappeared. He looked younger.

Clearing his mind, Geoff turned on the cold tab and splashed some water onto his face. He wiped his face with his sleeve and exited the room.

A lump started to form in Geoff’s throat as he walked back downstairs. He thought about slipping out the front door and running away. He didn’t care where in Haven, just hidden from everyone.

As he entered the lounge once again, everyone turned to him, but instead of stampeding toward him, each member gave a small nod or a welcoming smile to him. Geoff’s shoulders fell and he couldn’t help, but smile back. He glanced around and saw multiple small groups, some standing in a doorway leading to another room that looked much bigger and brighter.

His eyes lingered around the room for another second until his gaze landed on a blond man sitting on a sofa. He looked familiar as if Geoff had seen his face on a vinyl cover.

Geoff approached the man cautiously and gestured to the spot next to him.

“Do you mind if I…” His voice trailed off. He felt like a nuisance.

The man shook his head, “No, go ahead.”

Sitting down, Geoff let out a soft sigh. Despite who he used to be, Geoff wasn’t the best with starting conversations yet he found silence between people unnerving. He might as well start simple.

“I’m Geoff Wood.” He introduced himself, only to cringe at his words. “You already knew that.”

The man chuckled quietly, “It’s very nice to meet you, Geoff. I’m Brian Jones.”

A spark of realization hit Geoff. Now he remembered where he saw Brian from. David’s father had a huge record collection and he briefly remembered viewing a few Rolling Stones vinyls.

“How’s the afterlife so far?” Brian asked, his voice more relaxed than Geoff expected.

Geoff stumbled over his words, “Oh, well...Uh, it’s strange?”

Brian nodded, “I felt the same way when I died. You’ll get used to it quite quickly.”

Geoff found himself readjusting his position to get closer to Brian. His soft and relaxed nature took him by surprise, especially since he grew up on stories about how crazy rock bands were and how the members were as mad as hatters. He finally felt safe.

“Is there any rules I need to know about the club?” He sheepishly asked.

“Not really,” Brian started, “Club 27 is a sort of safe place, if you will.”

He gestured to the other members in the room, “I believe everyone here had their own issues and this place helped. I know it certainly helped me. No one is put down, no one is judged. It’s a place for people to calm down.”

If only there was something like that in life, Geoff thought.

“Is there any...non-alcoholic drinks here?”

Geoff winced, prepared for a glare from Brian. He had dirty looks thrown at him left and right whenever he asked that. Either Geoff wasn’t living life to the fullest or everyone knew he was a former alcoholic. Instead, Brian’s expression didn’t change. He simply nodded and Geoff let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“If you don’t mind, Geoff, but I’d like to get to know you a bit better. Could I ask you some questions?”

“Well, you just did ask me one.” Brian let out a quiet laugh which Geoff thought of as an achievement. He made someone smile!

“Alright. What were you in your life? Were you a musician?”

“Uh, yeah I was, actually. I was the lead singer of a band called Needles.” Geoff rubbed the back of his neck.

“What kind of music did you play?”

“Well, we played...hair metal mostly.”

At that, Brian tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What’s ‘hair metal?’”

Oh, God. How do you explain a genre of music to a music legend?

“Well, it’s kind of like rock and roll. Usually bands who play hair metal have big hair and tons of makeup. It’s like the signature look.”

The confusion on Brian’s face didn’t fade so, Geoff waved his hand dismissively.

“Anyway, we’ve been going for-” He cut himself off.

What was to happen to Needles since he died? Would they retire? Would they replace Geoff?

His voice immediately lowered, “I was the founder of the band. We’ve been active since ‘85. Until I died.”

His eyes darted down to his knees. His bandmates were just going to replace him as soon as they found out he was dead. It’s just business he reminded himself, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Brian rested his hand on Geoff’s arm, catching his eye. Though they didn’t exchange any words, Geoff knew that Brian understood how he was feeling.

“You know what? I think I know what’ll cheer you up.” Brian said, standing up suddenly.

He offered his hand out for Geoff and he reluctantly took it. They pushed pass people and entered the next room.

The room was enormous. Tables were lined up around a stage and it was packed. The noise ranged from conversations within table groups to the musicians on stage. It felt like the clubs that Needles would first perform in and a rush of nostalgia went down Geoff’s spine.

Brian stopped at the side of the stage and pointed to a clipboard.

“How do you feel about performing?” He asked.

A familiar twist and turn returned in Geoff’s stomach. It had been so long since he had performed in front of anyone. He wasn’t sure if his stage persona was any good. If he messed up, that was going to be his first impression to everyone in the club.

“Well…” Geoff stated, nibbling his bottom lip.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can perform with you.” Brian added.

“Do you know any songs that I know, though?”

“Most likely not. Do you know any songs that I might know?”

There was a second of silence between the two as Geoff began to think back to his childhood. He tried to recall any artist from the sixties, but his mind kept going blank. Then it hit him.

“Do you know Love Me Do or Misery by The Beatles?”

Brian rested a finger on his chin, “I believe I do, yes.”

“Then sure, I’ll perform.”

A smile appeared on Brian’s lips and he turned to sign them both up. Geoff let out a soft “oh no” once he saw Brian misspelled his name.

“It’s the other Geoff.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Geoff with G and O.”

Brian blinked up at Geoff a couple of times and shook his head mockingly.

He mumbled under his breath with a smile, “Geoff with a G-O.”

They sat to the side, enjoying the current musician on stage. It was a blues rock singer that Geoff noted he’d have to speak with later. He took a moment to look around the room. He recognized more faces than he expected and he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to meet everyone, even if he had his entire afterlife to do so.

The crowd clapped as the musician finished his set. Geoff didn’t realize they would be up so soon and he froze in place. Brian tugged on his arm and gave him a reassuring nod. Geoff wasn’t sure how far that would get him.

Standing on stage was like visiting a place from childhood. It was like riding a bike again. Geoff’s body just knew where to go and stand. He let out a huff of relief as he looked out to the crowd. The stage light was bright enough that from where Geoff was standing, the entire room was black.

Brian strummed a chord on his guitar, signaling Geoff he was ready. They started tapping their feet to a beat and they began to sing together.

The world is treating me bad!

Misery!

In that moment, Geoff just closed his eyes and let Brian’s guitar take over his actions. He felt cold and small, but he continued. He didn’t feel like the teenage star that he used to be, but he didn’t feel pathetic. He was just there on stage singing like he should have been.

Send her back to me!

‘Cause everyone can see

Without her, I will be in misery!

Geoff believed his voice wasn’t suited for any genre, but metal. When it came to softer songs, he couldn’t produce the same energy to perform them. However, with his focus on just the music, it was as if he had been singing warmly his entire career.

With a final stomp of his foot, the song ended and Geoff opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anyone’s faces, but he could tell they were satisfied due to their applause. His body relaxed, his hand resting on his chest. He hadn’t felt this glad in the long time.

He turned to Brian and grinned. Then Brian replaced his guitar with a harmonica. Geoff thought to himself as they shifted to the next song. He would most likely never perform one of his songs here.

The sound of the harmonica cued Geoff and he swayed himself to the imaginary beat. He could remember the song clearly from his childhood when his family used to listen to the radio together.

Love, love me do!

You know I love you.

I’ll always be true.

So please!

Love me do.

Geoff found himself hopping on his feet to the drums in his head. He must have look stupid on stage, but right there, he couldn’t care less. He regained a confidence that he had been trying to find for years. It only took him to die to find.

The second song was over quicker than Geoff expected. The audience clapping and whistling to him was all he really needed then. His smile turned into a frown as he got off stage. He wanted to feel happy like that all the time. Why couldn’t he? Why did it take his death for him to feel happy?

“You have a lovely singing voice.” Brian complimented, but it didn’t register to Geoff.

When Geoff didn’t respond, Brian turned to him. His brows frowned as he looked at Geoff’s blank face. He nudged him softly. Nothing changed. Thinking quickly, Brian wrapped his arm around Geoff’s and pulled him toward the back door of the club.

The change of scenery caused Geoff to snap back and he stared in awe of the garden that greeted him. Trees surrounded them and all they could hear was the birds chirping. The peace outside calmed the storm inside.

“Are you alright?” Geoff noticed Brian once again and he wanted to slap himself in the face.

“I’m...I’m sorry. I’m fine.” He answered.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Brian asked.

Geoff weakly nodded.

Brian guided Geoff to a small gate and opened it, walking along a small stone trail back to the front of the club.

“Lead the way.” He said.

They started to walk along the sidewalk, glancing at buildings and people as they passed by. Geoff noticed a cat and stopped to pet it. It purred back. There was barely any traffic on the streets, leaving the day quiet and humble. It reminded Geoff of when David and him would run around the block, throwing firecrackers onto the dead road, only for them to scream and jump at the loud snaps and pops.

“Geoff?”

“Yeah?”

“What kind of music do you like?”

Geoff stuffed his hands into his pant pockets and shrugged.

“I like rock and roll mostly. Anything with a piano is my song, though.”

Brian continued, “Interesting. What about music that inspired you? I personally was inspired by Muddy Waters.”

Man, I’m going to sound so weird to him.

“The early days of AC/DC got me to start Needles. The Bon Scott era was the best.” Geoff laughed.

Brian flicked his hair out of his eyes, only for the strands to fall back down. The name didn’t seem to stick with him, but Geoff didn’t really expect it to. Most of the bands Geoff listened to Brian would have no idea who they were. It was like talking to his parents. The gap between their deaths made room for so much change and Geoff wasn’t asking Brian to learn anything.

Suddenly, Geoff stopped. Brian followed his gaze and saw through a window of a music store Geoff’s face. It was him, much younger, with frizzy hair and loud makeup. His tongue was out and his hands were in the sign of the horns. It was an album cover and behind Geoff was his bandmates, all with equally big hair and bright makeup.

“Oh, that’s hair metal.” Brian joked.

Silent. Geoff was silent. He couldn’t help, but stare at himself. Young, stupid, careless, a goddamn dumbass.

The air was awkward and Brian tugged on Geoff’s arm.

“Is something wrong, Geoff?”

A deep sigh was the reply Brian got.

They started to walk again, both their mouths sealed lines. The breeze gently danced around them. The sun beamed through tree leaves, creating a weird pok-a-dot pattern on the sidewalk. Birds flew by and the taps from their shoes meeting the concrete was whitenoise.

“You know,” Geoff began, “I don’t like who I saw in that picture.”

Brian’s eyes widened, but he let Geoff continue.

“If I didn’t think I was on top of the world, I wouldn’t have been in this mess...I started to smoke at 14. No kid should do that...I was such a piece of shit!”

He kicked a fence post and groaned in pain. Brian gingerly took ahold of Geoff.

“Hey, hey, hey. I understand you’re frustrated. I know somewhere you can vent.”

The way there was short. It was another block ahead and they switched to a grass path. It lead up to the top of a hill where a bench sat lonely, waiting for visitors.

Brian sat Geoff down and rested his chin on his fist.

“What’s troubling you, Geoff?”

He didn’t look at Brian, “A lot. If I lived my life differently, maybe I wouldn’t be dead right now.”

“What do you mean?” Brian perked up.

“I mean if I listened to my parents like a good Catholic boy, I wouldn’t have died at 27. I’d be married with kids, a local church goer, host of Sunday barbecues. I would have died happy.”

Geoff paused. What would his parents think about him dead?

“I treated my bandmates like shit, I treated myself like shit. It’s only natural for me to have a shitty ending. I didn’t live properly so, my life won’t end properly.”

Brian took Geoff’s hand. He raised a brow and stared at Brian. He played with his fingers, tracing them and tapping tunes on them.

“Did you know I was fired from the Rolling Stones just before my death?”

Geoff felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“My life wasn’t the best. I’ve made decisions that looking back were clearly the wrong ones. Yet as much as it was miserable, I had some genuinely pleasant moments. That’s what makes my life worth it. I’m sure that it felt like a punch after another, but I assure you that your life, with both good and bad, you made the most out of those choices.”

The words were gentle just like Brian’s touch. Geoff felt safe once again. He found himself smiling, reliving his happiest moments. With his family, bandmates, and himself.

“Thanks for that.” It wasn’t the best response, but he didn’t know what else to say.

They turned to the view on top of the hill. It overlooked Haven with buildings going for miles. The lake was barely in view, leaving it more of a line on the horizon. Geoff felt back home, back in Vancouver. He leaned his head down onto Brian’s shoulder, receiving a small smile back.

“Hey, Brian?”

“Yes?”

“What do you see?”

Brian looked at the landscape, the view no doubt an old thing to him.

“I see Cheltenham.”

Geoff tried to think of what it would look like, but his imagination ran dry. Instead, he continued to look at the town, amazed by how it felt exactly like home.

#My 27th birthday #27 club #Brian Jones #writing #angst #original writing #writeblr

2 notes · View notes