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katyawriteswhump · 4 months

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the power of love pt 4 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one Part two Part three Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part Nine Part Ten Part 11 Part 12

Chapter Four

Steve POV

1978

Steve carves his way across Lover’s Lake with an energetic front crawl. Okay, he’s got to admit—it’s a bit bigger than he judged.

He’s getting tired, though he can still make it. After all, he’s eleven years old, and the best swimmer in his grade. He reckons he could beat half the kids in the High School swim squad. What’s a puny lake to Steve Harrington?

The waters grow thick and deadly heavy. Soon, his arms flounder and his legs splash uselessly. He glances up to figure how far the bank is, mistimes his stroke, gulps a mouthful of water.

He chokes, swallows, discovers he’s no clue in which direction he should go. He swipes wet hair from his eyes and realizes he can’t see his parents. Can’t see anybody. Yeah, he’d deliberately swum off to prove his father wrong, because he’d said Steve couldn’t cross the lake, but… Oh crap!

He sinks, pulls upward with all he’s got left, and bursts through the surface, screaming: “Dad! Mom! Dad? I’m… lost… Heeeelp!” His legs have gone weak, and he doesn’t know what to do with his arms, whether to wave them or try to swim or… “Mommy? Da-ad? Daddy!”

His final efforts fail, and the dark waters suck him deep, closing seamlessly above his head.

1986

The scary dreams fade to nothingness, and Steve begins to wake. His head aches, and his bat bites manage to throb, itch and burn all at once. He opens his eyes, with a weary sense of having been through all this before, far too many times.

However, he isn’t in his parents’ living room, which is the last thing he remembers. He’s not a clue where he is. It looks like some dingy log cabin, and a stale tobacco stench catches in his throat. Robin’s nowhere to be seen, which alarms him further. Eddie paces the creaking floor, flexing and cracking his fingers.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s hand flies to his chest. Then that electric smile that Steve’s getting way too fond of returns: “Hey, big boy. How ya doing?”

“Oh, never better.” Steve coughs. He doesn’t even try to rise from the lumpy old camp bed he’s lying on. “My body feels like goddamn heavy metal… and, uh, not the sort you dig.”

“Seen bodies I like less, Harrington.” Eddie smirks then cringes; Steve’s not gotten a clue how to read that. “Look, you've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.” He grabs a bottle of water. “You have to drink. Or we’re gonna have to get you to a doctor, and Buckley’s gonna ride my ass.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Trouble is, Steve knows that Eddie will have to help, and it’s dead awkward. He does his best to sit, while Eddie plumps the pillows and helps support him. Eddie’s hair gets everywhere, way worse than Steve’s. Then Steve’s hand trembles so bad, Eddie has to guide the bottle to his lips. Even then, half the water dribbles down Steve’s chin, and it barely wets his parched lips. After a couple of slurps, his stomach performs an unpleasant flip. “Had enough, man.”

“Ooookay. We’ll try again later, huh?”

“Yeah, if you want me to vomit all over your… Hey, is that my Hugo Boss t-shirt?”

“Don’t worry, Harrington. It’ll look waaay better when I daub it with the sacred Hellfire Club logo.”

Steve’s beyond caring about that kinda stuff. What he really wants to say, but won’t, is that it looks great on Eddie. The short sleeves afford sizzling glimpses of Eddie’s tats.

Christ, get over it, Harrington.

He concentrates on what Eddie is telling him. Turns out, the three of them have escaped Hawkins, though not travelled far: “We’re in a deserted cabin, about twenty miles out. Robin can cycle back and get into radio contact with Dustin and the others, which is where she is now. They can sort out supplies, give us updates. It’s still total chaos in town, which has bought us time.”

“You need to keep moving, man,” murmurs Steve. “I know I said don’t go without me, but… Jesus, I’m slowing you down.”

Eddie gives a casual shrug. “Nah. We can wait for ya, Stevie.”

Stevie?!?

Steve snorts with laughter, then he sinks again fast. He’s so stupidly tired. God knows how long passes before Robin’s voice revives him. “Steve? Steve! Try to wake up. Please?”

He does. For her. His eyes are watery, and it takes a moment to focus. Then he sees her eyes are watery, pink-ish too. “Rob? W-What’s wrong?”

“Thank God, you’re back.” She leans close, attempts a clumsy approximation of a hug. When she pulls away, she unleashes way too many words for him to cope with. Dustin has updated her on tons. Max is hurt, and it’s really bad, and then she talks about Hopper.

Hopper’s alive?

Steve raises a shaky hand to veil his eyes. “Hey, slow down. Max is gonna be okay, right?”

He peeps between his fingers. The look that passes between Robin and Eddie all but chokes him. He disguises a sniffle beneath another cough.

“Hop’s coming back, and that’s good news, right?” says Robin. “Maybe he can get you two off the hook. Although, right now, I believe we’re among the missing, presumed dead. Yay?” She underlines her false cheer with a tremulous smile. That’s when Steve notices the baggy yellow top she’s wearing:

“Hey, that top is mine! You’re both wearing my clothes?”

Eddie leans coolly against the wall. “Badge of ownership, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Steve. “Who owns whose ass?”

Eddie grins and… was that a twitch of his eyelid or a wink?!? Either way, it dizzies Steve. “Whichever way round you want, baby,” says Eddie.

“Ooookay.” Robin giggles, sounding as jittery as Steve feels. “Uh, Steve. We should probably check your bandages.”

He’s genuinely relieved when Eddie wanders off. He lifts his t-shirt and hisses as she pries the dressing from his scabbed blood. “Is it bad?”

“You’re not all stinky and septic, nor leaking Upside Down black goop, so… No, I’d say good. Does it hurt much?”

“Not as bad as it did.”

“You still seem a bit fever-y.” She gingerly drifts the back of her hand across his brow. “Not so gross and sticky as you were, though.”

“Lucky for you,” he snarks. He actually finds feeling so sick and weak far more intolerable than the pain. It reminds him of when he travelled with his parents, when he was much younger. And when he always got sick. A splash of ice bites deep. “Ow!”

Robin assaults him with an antiseptic spray. “Sorry!”

“Don’t go into medicine, Rob.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Uh, Steve. One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you ask us to leave town via Lover’s Lake?”

“Wha—” Steve blinks. His brain strains to retrieve whatever the hell she’s talking about and draws a blank. “I have zero memory of saying that. I mean, why the heck would I?”

“Oookay. You were probably raving.” That nervous laugh returns. “You sure you’re sure you’ve no idea?”

He blinks at her again. He really hasn’t.

He’s always loved swimming in Lover’s Lake. Then again, he likes swimming pretty much everywhere, particularly in open water. It gives him a rush, a sense of control that’s proven so difficult to grasp in pretty much every other area of his life. Okay, there was that one time he nearly drowned in Lover's Lake as a kid. Even that didn’t put him off for long. In fact, it fired him to get stronger, better, to learn lifesaving and CPR.

Robin’s brows are raised, as if she expects some bombshell revelation. “What do you want me to say?” he answers. “I haven’t a goddamn clue.”

She lets it drop. He fears he hasn’t heard the last of whatever’s bugging her. Perhaps, despite her protestations otherwise, she’s still fretting about rabies. “Hey, Eddie,” she yells, “stop skulking and come and help, will you?”

Robin and Eddie finish patching him up, and Steve struggles not to whimper like a candy-ass wuss. Then, as he feels too crappy to sleep, his mood plummets even lower. He can’t stop thinking about Max, and how he’d failed to save her. Maybe if he’d been there, he could’ve found a way, like he did when he saved Eddie?

That he was otherwise occupied feels like an excuse. He should’ve protected the kids better, and… Ugh, he detests being THIS DAMN PATHETIC, a total wimpezoid. He despises being seen like this, even by Robin, and she’s seen him brought low before, when they were captured by the Soviets. Plus, she’s his best friend. Steve Harrington is the big guy, the protector. Without that…

…I’m nothing. Eddie Munson’s gonna see that pretty quick. Uh… Why the Hell should I care so much about that?

His miserable thoughts drain him. He tries curling onto his good side, just as Robin comes at him with a bowl of cereal. “Get lost,” he mutters, and finally drifts back to a sick-feeling sleep.

Later, when he awakes, the fuss remains excruciating. Eddie props him up on more pillows and tucks up the blankets. Robin menaces him with the cereal again, and this time, he chokes down a few mouthfuls. Eddie checks Steve’s wounds, and wipes him down with a cloth, dabbing his scarred torso, hands and face.

Steve refuses to look Eddie in the eye, and chews his lip ragged. He waits till Robin goes outside then asks the question that is literally gonna kill him: “Eddie, I need the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Eddie palpably tenses. “Uh, pretty sure I saw a bucket somewhere.”

Steve groans. “Isn’t there plumbing inside this dump?”

“Noooot as such. There’s literally a brick shithouse outside. Reckon you can make it?”

“Sure,” says Steve, trying to sound casual rather than terrified he’s absolutely not gonna make it.

He manages to sit, and then Eddie helps him to his feet. They start off, with Steve leaning heavily against Eddie. To be fair, it goes better than expected. Steve’s dizzy and slightly nauseous, but the cereal stays down. While his legs are basically jello, they don’t give out completely.

Not until the way back, at any rate.

One of his knees buckles beneath his weight, and he flops into Eddie. He winds up clinging around Eddie’s neck, one foot sliding as if on ice, and staring up into Eddie’s dark, soulful eyes. Losing himself in them, like they’d drugged him or something; even giggling, and wondering fleetingly if that fizzle of attraction might still be real, despite his wretched state.

“I gotcha, Stevie.”

Stevie… again?

The pulsing veins on Eddie’s face betray his strain in keeping Steve from falling. He’s also wearing a faintly amused smile, which touches Steve somewhere tender and deep.

But Eddie’s laughing at him, not with him, right? “Bet I’m hilarious,” mumbles Steve. “I guess with no TV you get your kicks where you can.”

“I don’t watch much TV,” says Eddie, placid enough. “Sure miss my Ghetto Blaster.”

“There was one in my room. If you were dumb enough not to bag it, that’s your loss.”

While bitching, Steve finds his footing again. Eddie helps him back toward the camp bed. When, finally, Steve’s butt lands heavily on it, he’s still hugging around Eddie’s neck, so he tugs Eddie down with him. He slithers his arms free and shivers. He actually wishes he could keep clinging rather than go back to lying alone, feeling horrible. Christ, he’s hopeless.

He rolls to face the wall. Eddie pokes him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” snaps Steve, the heat of his temper warming him. “I made it to the outhouse and back, didn’t I? If you two morons quit stalling, we can get moving again right away.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part Ten Part Twelve

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tags: estrellami1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #stobin fic #platonic stobin #stobin friendship #steve and robin #steve harrington x eddie munson #stobin #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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laughing-with-god · 3 years

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The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note: So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next. The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life. Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ. Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol. This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments. Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads once again for creating the cover art for this fic. They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic. They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar. They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while. I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.

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thecrenellations · 3 years

Text

Return of the Thief Notes, Part Two: The Book of Pheris, Volume 2, Chapters 1-5

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part One | Part Three | TaT)

Contents: Me losing my mind in multiple ways each chapter, helpful links, nighttime garden cousins, an Irene pun, notes from my second read, “mwt is just like going for it,” and “this is so fucked up and heartwarming.”

Format: Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Volume 2

Illustration

Book 2 bro

Now we’re caught up and changed forever by lots of things

What printer’s apprentice made this?

Elephants!

Chapter 1

175. me too, Costis, me too. I am so tired. (it’s hard to sleep when your brain and heart and everything are fizzing because you’re reading Return of the Thief for the first time and a new Queen’s Thief book for the last time)

176. Klimun + Gerosthenes vibes [moon doodle]

Holes in documents. That’s cute

Gen!!! <3

Wtf Ansel was hoodwinked!

177. The Queen waited

They’re ridiculous

Hi Pheris

Wtf he stole her earrings for Melheret?!?

178. Excuse me??? What is this book (sleeveless leather tunic)

He still roams!!!

Tattoos!

179. a sentence I never fucking expected to read ever “The absence of tattoos…”

180. that’s interesting

Stacked like kindling wow oh dear

181. She wants him to move in lol

Lol sorry Ion

Did she just want them to leave the room?

182. I can’t with this… I can’t. Why is sex symbol Relius canon. (the play that featured him! It’s great, it’s great, it was just a lot to take in!)

Silver crown?

183. Cleon! Rude!

Did they call Costis to deck him?

Queen scene!! <3

184. This is an epic. Abt Costis. Dirty stranger

185. he’s “the high king”

Lol

187. prophet (Pheris sure makes Costis sound like one)

Shut up Piloxides

188. resources for war! (book launch foreshadowing part two! She talked a lot about this kind of thing as well, and recommended the book Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army)

189. “we”

What were you gonna say (Gen almost says something to Costis part one)

193. RIP The Magus Archives … it was not to be. Yet.

194. Melenze’s doorstep. Why? Bc Melenze is Ferria’s dog. (idk dude that line from ACoK has just never left me)

195. This is … a big war

196. Oh gen

Nighttime garden cousins.

Chapter 2

197. wtf did Relius think of that play

Also … not a peep from the sacred mountain huh

198. wtf will happen with Cleon

with Erondites

with THE MOUNTAIN

a lot going on

everyone was in that room but Kamet! So close!

199. Cute Fordad + Gen friendship (I never said these notes would make me look smart)

Same 2 T + R! :) It’s not them is it? (I NEVER SAID THESE NOTES WOULD MAKE ME LOOK SMART)

Poor Teleus

200. gdi Gen

Excuse me? Is he worried for Pheris??? (taking his tablet)

They trust each other! C’mon!

Sure he has reasons

202. oh dear. :( that’s … the worst cover story

Also falling

203. wow almost like a story huh

Ula’s altar :(

Why haven’t we had a Gen and Costis scene IN THREE BOOKS

205. I just … I don’t know if he’s just miserable or if it’s all a plan. I feel like I should know it’s all a plan. But he really feels like he has far to go. He’s just a mess and the same and so different. (having a small Gen meltdown)

205. he did give him the gun

Odd that he missed Quedue

206. he’s gonna bite them (buckle up! it’s abdication time!)

207. Power. Power. Power. Power.

Thx 4 the editorializing Pheris

208. Gen is making choices. That’s a choice.

209. There’s KoA down the drain

Aaaand he’s Eugenides

“Eugenides stared into the future”

The page of like 3 different tumblr posts: Trophy husband, Library, No! yes!

210. make sure he doesn’t leave lol

211. Pheris :(

Also fucked up timing for Irene

I love them

212. again with the birthday book

He’s still the king in the narration

Go on the roof! So close!

213. EUGENIDES IS ALWAYS APPROPRIATE my motto

Viper! Bastard!

Oh shit. I love them.

214. “our treaty” “our queen”

AAAH! Wedding night!

Asked her to leave!

Smash Erondites and peace out, literally

215. a frank talk

HE SAID IT.

216. The Bructs?

Wait is this his grandfather (taking a moment to remember all about Susa)

Also that’s Costis territory

217. who is this lion

218. #3 to Gen.

219. hmmm ring

There’s been a lot to unpack wow.

Did this happen, Pheris? Pheris?!

220. Atté atté!

(Dear reader: for some strange reason, I completely forgot about taking notes on the final pages of this chapter. These notes are from when I reread those pages a few minutes later.)

Erondites full cup to brimming

The Pherises…

We must think of others before ourselves … occasionally

I do not like Orutus

Don’t fence Costis in! Does this count as prison? No (I had a square on my bingo board for “someone ends up in prison” ... but it turned out to be for someone else)

221. damn Costis

Aaah

Costis …

Irene… your jokes (I mean, it’s a joke, but also it is very real for her.)

SHE SAID IT!

My heart

222. where is Relius going?

SPYING

What you see and what you think it means (I love these instructions/this quote so much)

So are Susa + Erondites 2gether or what (listen ... proximity generates meaning in these books)

Also, like

What can

I say

WHAT CAN I SAY (Hell yeah! Never more glad to be wrong about the magus)

[page long list of doubles and parallels - from Cleons and Pherises and Ions to god-character and character-character connections]

Also the fact that in KoA and TaT Relius was like … oh … no … I just live a gentle life being friends with my king and queen and being scholarly. But no. He’s SPYING and TRAVELING MYSTERIOUSLY and has MANY LOVERS and also has been WITH TELEUS ALL ALONG and there is a PLAY written about him and he has a ~messenger~ network and PLAYS THE FLUTE and DOESN’T MAKE HIS BED and DISLIKES MATH and oh and he’s VERY HANDSOME! (Yes I was losing it, I hope my note from after the poem helps show some of the feelings behind this rant.)

Fucking … Wine shop. Should have known.

Chapter 3

224. ominous

Hello magus!

Sophos … babe (his impatience!)

225. Magus … cool your socks that’s your bff (he’s just describing Helen’s dead body! Fun!!!!)

In the van

That was good I love them

Why is it Couples Hour?

226. finally we’re out of the capital of Attolia

Ok they’re so cute

She was NEVER Helen in ACoK narration!

Also – Pheris. This is all Pheris. (Pheris plus information others told him!)

227. Bringing each other up to date – that’s their thing. Talking forever

All this talk of shooting Therespides

228. EX FUCKING SCUSE ME (time to learn a lot about the country of Eddis)

He was 15! (or almost 15)

He didn’t know! Or did he!

The MoW!

All thru Pheris

Fuck you magus

When did he know

229. EXCUSE ME

The emeralds?

Assumed the worst?

That classic quote about little to do with winter but with “seducing other people’s lovers”

230. yeah Sophos that’s a lost cause (“spare me my blushes”)

Also she didn’t answer you

What are they laughing about (the generally nameless men we’re learning many things about this chapter)

233. Gen I think it’s fair to say that was a mistake

234. wtf Gen

GEN! he just. Had those. (the jewels!)

Her crown

I cannot

235. Gen!

237. Crash

Her CHANGES

238. THESE TWO

239. called annux

Yeah it’s like … a family meeting (the war council)

Bring your father to work day

241. Oh no.

Stenides! Boagus!!!!!!!

EDDIS!

Wolves! Lol

mwt is just like going for it

243. aww

Eddis > Boagus > Gen

244. Yeah I’m with her on this. (“if that doesn’t frighten you, it should”)

Chapter 4

245. Gen and Magus scene yes!

Two people affected by his long hair (Gen and the magus? I think?)

Pheris are you there?

Gen … you used to wish yourself out of existence

Wow

Hair vanity

Yeah also battlefield

Ion is a darling tbh

248. Is he. Is he going to fight all of them

Also they are all his cousins huh

AULUS! I liked you!

Same, Hilarion

Taking a page out of Costis’s book?

You have definitely seen it before. (I mistook his lie for truth!)

Will Costis hear about this? (please)

249. #4 to Gen!

Pheris where are you

Why doesn’t the Continent want to conquer them (do I get partial credit for this)

A tattoo!

250. “Do not offend the gods”

Honestly … too bad Helen DIDN’T do this

251. he said he’d give all he had

I’m sure there are rules

253. Just men? :( (let everybody fight him!)

Ornon is back! I mean, of course he is

Also yea they practice

HELLO ORNON

A house being built … or one knocked down. Nice

Is Teleus in on this?

254. Pheris called him my king!

255. I wanna know which guards though

:( he’d been faking

Kicked him in the head (ouch)

256. “when he fell”

I … don’t like this

He never gives up. The thieves don’t have limits. They have flash points.

Stepped on his hand

“Enough Gen” – what Irene said?

257. :( :( :( :( :( :( :(

The magus. I forgot he was there.

The magus said … nevermind …

The magus is probs very into this as a cultural thing. Also he was talking to the MoW

Pigeon. The sky. :( Like in TT (OH BOY, THE SKYYYY)

If there was a god, Pheris would see…

258. They’ve, they’ve been through a lot.

Oh god what’s next

259. I … no. not in his arms to the palace.

The palace where….

The stairs…

They are all 3 lookers. Basilisks and brass and lead

I hate this. But I love this.

I will someday see this differently.

Ah yes… the grunt. Approval.

260. Honestly, this is so fucked up and heartwarming. These books.

Lol don’t defend Hilarion, we know him

Eddis visits him.

Attolia watches him.

261.WTF Gen. I knew it. Why.

Crying or laughing? Crying? :(

How does this not undermine her now that he is her king?

But … what he wouldn’t do for her.

262. “he did fine”

This book is like… Reasons Gen Says Sorry

So, so… - Helen

GEN!

263. I am right. I am always right. It’s a curse.

Helen :( :( :(

The amount of times these people have seen him beaten.

He’s like … self destructive, but in a way that gives himself more power. Which he hates.

Gen, let them in. Let them in.

Chapter 5

264. honeycomb

OH NO. is it happening?

266. I’m just supposed to accept this?!! What does it mean?!

267. … a my king moment … important

But like … now can he fight?

Caryatid? [doodle after I looked it up]

268. Teleus!

C’mon Teleus. Everyone you love or respect loves him!

Honestly Pheris and Teleus … not a duo I expected

THESE TWO ARE SO DEDICATED TO TELLING HIM THAT! Ok I should chill. At least he said “may.” These are like … Pheris’s life lessons.

Honestly… I love that Teleus likes poetry, or at least likes it for Relius.

269. Lol Legarus. It’s been years! I mean, I guess that was a big deal for him… (almost being executed is a big deal for most people.)

Does he not love Gen because of Relius? Because Gen manipulated him? Because he keeps sending away his successor? Why on earth not! Hop on that train! (...)

It’s interesting that their relationship is the one that touches Pheris, not Gen and Irene. Hm.

Also … “Idiot.” The parallels.

“relatively gently” (it’s so good)

~Teleus here to talk about love~

This book is full of surprises.

270. That is NOT the bright side, Gen (“I could use my newfound authority to insist on going into battle”)

271. BUNNY! Wtf is a wineglass warrior

Very cute everyone, good job.

Still sad about Helen’s tears.

271. Gen. Don’t say these things. [volcano doodle]

272. SEE I was worried about this! The doubt!

I am not ok

This is TOO MANY Eddisian Revelations (Lader time)

Yeah. Wow.

273. Cleon x5

I … his grandfather

No.

Baby Helen begging

How did Pheris get this scene

Gen chose Cleon for his plan

275. IRENE WITH THE STATS!

276. lol Gen

My brother Sounis!

277. Missing Relius club.

Where is he though

Yes! Sophos Gen food fight!

Grapes!

“Wisdom”

He’s “the king” here and in KoA bc that’s the story but also that’s who he is to Pheris and Costis

278. So how did that Irene and MoW meeting go anyway?

How does Aulus know???

Thief short story! Probably terrible to reread, oh no

279. Are … are Aulus and Boagus together???! (“his slightly smaller partner”)

This feels … potentially traumatic … but fun? Idk

Fleece

280. This dang book. No rules!

The chandelier! So dramatic!

Mwt had … a lot to put into this one. A lot. A lot.

283. “not the Thief he was chasing”

284. The queens! The salute!

He can’t give this up.

Official Worries:

100,000 soldiers heading towards Kamet

Re: Lyopidus, Gen called Sophos his brother. Helen apparently might BE his sister. Temenus and Stenides are also going to a war where 9/10 will probably die.

Also

the MoW could have been a king if he’d stolen Helen’s throne. A lot there.

why does this book have the vibe of the library post, my comic from 2010, the king and queen interactions here, and the military tactics dream

#part twooo #word clouds next #the queen's thief #return of the thief #mwt #rott spoilers #return of the thief spoilers #something i

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Text

Loki: Chapter 12*

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*, this chapter is NSFW

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

Chapter 12* (4.8k, NSFW)

Anise wove in between bodies at a record pace, clutching her lunch bag to her chest, dodging interns left and right. She needed a moment of silence to clear her throbbing head, and if one more first year came up and asked her how to properly intubate someone, she might just scream. Normally, she would be all for teaching freshly graduated doctors-to-be techniques, but after what she just witnessed in the resident lounge? Absolutely not.

Anise took a sharp right and dove into the stairwell that would lead her towards the basement, her feet moving on autopilot to the once familiar place she would run off to escape to early on in her career at Haven. At the second to last door from the bottom, she slumped into it, letting her weight push it open. Her brows arched as she saw someone else who apparently had the same idea she did, sitting on a gurney in the hallway of the abandoned wing of the hospital.

“Old habits die hard,” Dorian said with a smirk, and gestured for her to sit in empty space beside him.

“Gods, this takes me back to first year when we all would eat down here,” she said, hoisting herself up on the forgotten piece of equipment. She proceeded to open her own packed lunch, a tuna wrap with carrot sticks.

“Let me guess, your reason for avoiding our common area is the same as mine?”

They locked eyes, and said in synchrony, “Anders.”

Dorian cackled.

He fished a carrot stick out of her bag for himself before saying, “Honestly, I don’t know what we all saw in him. It ends the same way for everyone. You can’t fix him, no matter how hard you try,” he bit into the carrot stick with a loud crunch, “but at least it’s Hawke this time, and not a new intern. Maybe she will finally knock some sense into him.”

Anders was a brilliant doctor, one of the best neurosurgeons in the nation if not the best. He turned down multiple offers from hospitals all around the country before settling at the Ferelden teaching hospital. But his personal life was a total mess wrought with commitment issues, and he was constantly getting in over his head with the medical board with his fiery attitude and unorthodox approach to medicine (which was not necessarily always a bad thing, and definitely something that had drawn Anise to him in the first place, but his sometimes he just skirted the lines of what was ethical). Anise had made the mistake of getting involved with him shortly after starting her internship (as did Dorian) but quickly realized Anders was… a lot to say the least, and she politely ended things. To her surprise (and relief) he was understanding. They got along much better as colleagues than they did as lovers, anyway. Anise vowed never to date another doctor at her hospital moving forward. She was much more content to over hear gossip, than be the reason for the gossip.

And then, there was Hawke--their fellow resident, good friend, and ruthless rival. She was a handful, too. Equally as fiery, passionate, always managed to make everything a competition, and went tit for tat with Anders. He may have finally met his match. It didn’t surprise Anise they were sleeping together, or that they were airing out their dirty laundry in the resident lounge at this very moment. Something she had walked in on in her effort to get her lunch.

They had both stopped yelling and stared at her, mortified at the fact they had gotten caught. She had given them a painfully awkward wave before zipping over to the fridge, snagging her lunch, and darting out of the lounge in under ten seconds.

Their fighting resumed before the door had even shut on her way out.

“Let’s hope only metaphorically, Anders has a surgery this evening, and I’m getting to scrub in and perform the craniotomy.” She stuck her tongue out at Dorian’s envious expression.

“Brat. Does Hawke know about this?”

Anise rolled her eyes, “If I were to hedge a guess, it’s what started their fight.”

As she bit into her wrap, her phone vibrated in her pocket. When she checked it, she promptly choked.

[Vhenan]

Will you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?

Schedule permitting, of course

[1:13pm]

Friday.

As in The Fourteenth of February.

As in, Valentine's Day.

“Best steer clear of Hawke for the rest of the day then. Otherwise she might just knock you instead.”

“Hah..ha,” Anise replied weakly, eyes still glued to her phone. Her brain, temporarily out of order.

Solas wanted to take her out.

On the national holiday for couples.

Granted, he had taken her out before, but that had been more casual, and hadn’t felt as exclusive. From the outside, they could have just been good friends dancing together, grabbing a bite afterwards. People did that all the time.

(Well, he did kiss her, but no one had been around to witness it, so therefore it didn’t technically count, or so she tried to rationalize.)

That date also had been before they started sleeping together…before he called her vhenan...

A wave of heat rolled up her neck, burning the tips of her ears. She had been too cowardly to bring up what he had said to her in his sleep filled haze the day after the last time they had slept together. Their snow day together had been too picture perfect, and she didn’t want to chance ruining it. She spent the entirety of the day on top of him on her couch (they had switched apartments for Loki’s sake). And when they weren’t alternating between their favorite movies… they engaged in other forms of entertainment.

[Anise]

I believe my shift ends at 5 next Friday--if you don’t mind having a little bit of a later dinner, I would love to join you

[1:20pm]

[Vhenan]

I do not, I’ll make the arrangements.

[1:20pm]

[Anise]

Nothing too fancy!! You’ve seen my laundry, I only own scrubs and that one dress

[1:21pm]

[Vhenan]

It is done.

[1:22pm]

“Who’s Vhenan?”

Anise nearly jumped out of her skin and almost dropped her phone on the floor.

“Dorian,” she chided, shoving him hard, and scrambling to send off one more text.

[Anise]

No presents! And we go halfsies

[1:22pm]

“It’s your fault you made no effort to hide your screen. I’ve been talking to you this whole time and you’ve so carelessly ignored me. I had to know who was more important than your very best friend.”

“Absolutely no one.” Anise tucked her phone safely back into the privacy of her pocket.

“Darling Anise, we both know that’s bullshit.”

It was at that moment the door to the hall bust wide open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoed like a gunshot, startling both Anise and Dorian.

“Oh fuck,” Hawke’s horrified face was quickly covered by her hands, sending tufts of her pixie cut jet black hair to stick out at even odder angles than they normally did, “and here I thought I could escape today for one fucking second.”

Dorian and Anise exchanged a quick glance and said together, “Old habits die hard,”

Dorian shifted further down the gurney, as did Anise, leaving space for one more body. Anise gestured to Hawke to take the spot, and offered her a carrot stick. Hawke made a disgusted noise but took the seat, and carrot stick, anyway. It looked like she might snap it in half. She fell into an awkward, tenuous silence beside Anise, who suddenly became very interested in the tuna of her wrap, taking small nibbles and examining the bite marks she left behind.

Finally, at long last Hawke said, “I can’t scrub in with Anders anymore.”

“Because you’re sleeping with him?”

Hawke shot Dorian a dark look. “I’m dating him, asshole.”

Anise paused mid bite, “Wait… like…?”

“Like, it’s official, All-Spice,” she quipped at Anise using that stupid nickname that speech pathlogist gave her that Hawke hung around with. Apparently, he gave everyone nicknames. “We went to the Chief, came clean, and everything. Anders had to speak privately with Viv for like an hour.” Hawke rubbed her face. “And then he comes back and tells me that I no longer am allowed to scrub in with him anymore.”

“I mean, that makes sense,” Dorian said, which was clearly the wrong thing to say to Hawke, earning him another, darker, glare as she chomped down on her carrot stick.

“Fuck you,” Hawke said with her mouth full, pausing to swallow before continuing, “I know that. I still get to be upset about it.”

“Valid,” Anise said, taking another small bite of her wrap.

“Sure, but you don’t have to scream about it,” Dorian retorted.

“Also, valid point,” Anise commented, covering her mouth with a hand as she chewed.

“Fine, you’re right. Sorry,” Hawke sighed, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “And I’m also sorry for what you walked in on, Anise. I want it to be clear, I didn’t mean to sound like I was angry at you. I’m not. I just let--”

The door to the hall opened again, with considerably less banging this time, but all three residents snapped to attention as they saw who stepped through.

“The Witch,” Dorian hissed.

The Chief Resident’s expression soured.

“I heard that, Dorian,” she drawled, “why is it that when I need a competent resident, the three of you are nowhere to be found. Incoming abdominal gunshot wound, no exit, OR three.”

All of them immediately jumped up, pushing each other out the way to stand before Morrigan, Dorian and Anise shoving their lunches haphazardly back into their packs as Hawke edged them out.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Lavellan, you have a surgery tonight, you’re out.”

Anise didn’t fight it, given the circumstances, and quietly stepped back.

“Hawke with me. You look like you need it.”

“What,” Dorian protested, gesturing flippantly at Hawke, “how is that the basis of your decision?”

“Dorian, you suck up to every attending, you’ll find a surgery to scrub into before I make it back to the OR floor.”

Hawke’s amber eyes sparkled as she flipped off Dorian when Morrigan had her back turned. Dorian returned the gesture with equal flair.

“Remind me why we’re friends with her again,” Dorian asked, after they were gone.

“Because she’s a pariah like us, and you do actually like her as a person, flaws and all.”

Dorian grumbled something in Tevine under his breath, slumping back down onto the gurney. “And remind me why I’m friends with you, when you won’t even tell me all the interesting bits of your life?”

Anise sighed.

If she started telling Dorian about Solas, it would mean someone else would know, which would make it all the more real.

It really didn’t take her that long to decide.

“Okay, but you have to promise me not to laugh and call me crazy,” Anise warned, and Dorian’s face lit up, “but it started with my kitten and my neighbor’s boxer briefs…”

***

The restaurant was one of those scratch kitchen types, where everything was locally sourced and organic. It had a rustic feel to it that reminded her of home the moment they sat down at their booth, surrounded by plants and large glass windows. Surprisingly, it was comfortably warm. She had shrugged off her winter coat, but kept on the black blazer she had dug out of her closet that she hadn’t worn since she graduated medical school, and was happy to know it still fit perfectly. She had gone with a floral turtleneck underneath with a pair of tight jeans and ankle boots. Not too fancy, but still dressed up. He had worn something similar in fashion, a pair of nice jeans, a green sweater, and sport coat over top.

It was surreal. To be out, with him, clearly as a couple. Her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since he took her hand when they left their apartment complex.

She hadn’t meant to talk about work, or make Solas talk about work, knowing how bringing it up seemed to ruin his mood. But when he asked about how the surgery with Anders she was able to scrub in on went, the incident with Hawke naturally came up, and suddenly she was discussing work.

“I’m sorry, I’m monopolizing the conversation. I would ask you about your week, but I get the impression it wasn’t any better than the last.”

“You would be correct in that assumption,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I managed to avoid the C.E.O for most of it. One awkward elevator ride was all I had to endure. Luckily, in silence.”

Even with that simple statement, she could see the tension set in his shoulders. “Let’s not talk about work anymore.”

He peered over his steepled hands at her. “What would you like us to talk about, Anise?”

Anise ran her tongue over her teeth and thought for a second. “I want to learn more about you. So let’s play a game.”

Solas’ brows arched. “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

“You try to make an assumption about me. If you’re right, I drink. If you’re wrong, you drink. And vice versa.”

He chuckled. “Where did you learn this game?”

“Med school. We had to find some way to cope,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“You might want to order a second glass of wine before we start.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think I’ll only make wrong assumptions, and you’ll only ever make right ones?”

“Indeed, I do.”

Anise rolled her neck. “Game on. I’ll go first. Your favorite color is green.”

“You went for something easy.” Solas took a generous sip of his wine. “What gave it away?”

Anise grinned. “Your sweater. Your ties are mostly green. Your socks have intricate green patterns on them. Your briefcase is a very dark green, almost black if you’re not looking close enough. But your sweater tonight really sealed the deal for me.”

“Astute observations. Then let me counter with this, your favorite color is blue.”

“Guilty.” Anise blushed behind her glass of wine, and took a sip. “I’ll bite. How’d you know?”

It was Solas’ turn to smile. “Your bedsheets are blue. As is the accent wall in your bedroom. The gift wrap you covered my wintersend gift in. Most of your scrubs are light blue, though this could be required at your hospital, but I took the risk.”

There were also two very obvious reasons, she wasn’t about to admit to as she gazed into them.

“Only attendings have a specific uniform color, and its navy ironically.”

Their dinner arrived after that, but they continued their little game even after their drinks were finished, using water instead until they ordered a second glass each. Solas guessed Anise had broken bones as a kid--she drank, she had broken two in her arm when she was four years old, and was religious--he drank, which prompted a long philosophical conversation about the elven gods and their teachings in which he was surprised to find she wasn’t religious, or spiritual, at all. That she viewed them more as lessons in morals more than anything. Anise soon learned, after a few more wrong guesses, Solas hated plums, but not as much as tea, loved to read research articles, if only to critique their methodology and sample size, and to her greatest surprise, had been arrested twice before the age of eighteen.

Anise finished off the last of her ravioli, and asked, “For what?”

“Disorderly conduct, and Trespassing,” Solas said, pusing around some of the vegetables on his plate, “I was very misguided in my youth.”

“I remember you saying that. My my, what a troublemaker you turned out to be,” she teased.

His lips twisted into that half smile she loved so much. As he studied her from across the table, setting aside his cutlery and dish, her stomach did flips. “You are the youngest child.”

Anise took a sip of her wine. “Youngest of three.”

“All girls?”

Anise shook her head triumphantly, “Only girl.” Solas took a sip of his.

“I have two older brothers. One is in law enforcement, the other is in a metal band.”

“Metal band? Diverse interests in your family.”

“Hah, you don’t even know what my father does for a living.”

Solas did that deep stare again. There was silence for a beat, then he said, “Politician.”

“Damnit,” Anise whispered, taking another sip.

Solas eyes lit up with a realization. “Is he--?”

“The Dalish politician, yes, yes, the one and only,” Anise rolled her eyes rather dramatically, feeling the wine settling in, “kind of obvious. Know how I mentioned in the past my family was busy with legal matters in Wycome? Well, I’m sure you saw recently on the news, the Dalish settlement in the Free Marches was officially recognized as a historical site and can no longer be bought or demolished, because of his advocacy and support from Wycome residents who rallied.”

“I did, it’s incredible what he has done for the history of his people.”

‘I agree. They are in the process of creating a museum to preserve the artifacts and culture from the ancient Dalish in the city. The land will remain untouched and essentially become a nature preserve with trails and historical markers. He keeps saying I have to visit once everything settles down and it’s opened to the public.”

The waitress came around to collect their plates and ask if they wanted dessert. The answer was obviously yes, as if Solas could ever say no to anything sweet. It was entertaining to watch his face light up over a simple frilly cake.

“I do believe it's your turn,” he said, licking icing off his fork.

That was… distracting.

Anise recovered, tips of her ears burning, “You’re an only child.”

Solas stared off at the space behind her quizzically. “What happens when someone does not know how to respond to a statement, do we both drink?”

“I’ve never encountered that kind of situation before playing this game,” Anise admitted.

“To answer your question, I do not know if I have biological siblings. I don’t remember my biological parents. I was placed into foster care in Arlathan when I was very young. I met kindred spirits there, people I would have considered siblings, at the time.”

“I would say they absolutely count.”

He nodded, and drank. While doing so he dug out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, before smiling, a true smile, and catching her eyes again. “You must not laugh.” He held out his phone.

Anise raised a brow. “No promises without context,” she said, accepting his phone and turning her attention to the picture he had left up.

“Oh, my gods,” her hand quickly shot to her mouth before she could let a giggle escape. “This is you. You have hair. How old are you here? This is… your friend that took you dancing?”

“Seventeen. And yes, that’s her. Her name was Sage. I met her while in the boarding school the state sent me to. Scroll if you want to see more.”

The picture was of two teenagers in school uniforms, standing in the middle of a city street. Solas clearly the younger of the two, with messy brown hair that just barely glinted red in the sunlight. The girl beside him had a shock of green hair that fell just below her chin. One of her arms slung around his neck, laughing at him, as he flipped off whoever was holding the camera.

The next one was Solas eating a cupcake in a dorm room, or to more accurately describe it, having a cupcake shoved into his face by Sage, who had icing on her nose already. The third was an action shot of them dancing. They got a little older every couple photos or so. At the bottom she realized the photos belonged to a memorial album he had on Facebook. While she was busy admiring photos of Solas’ over the years she had not known him, and tearing up as she realized what he had given her, a piece of his past, he had paid for their date.

Sneaky.

“Hey wait, that’s not fair,” she said, returning his phone and standing up, “you baited me.”

“I did.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and helped her into her coat.

***

The moment they made it into the lobby of their apartment complex, they were inseparable. In their favor it was empty, and the elevator was theirs alone. How they got that lucky, she didn’t know. What she did know was how badly he wanted her, evident with each pass of his tongue as it pushed past her lips. How his hands slipped under her shirt and roamed her stomach sending heat sliding down her spine to pool in her core. How the elevator brought them to their floor all too soon.

They stood in front of his apartment, her back pressed against his door with clothes entirely wrinkled and lungs breathless, torn between not wanting to stop but also wanting to move inside. She chased his lips as he pulled away to take out his key, but landed on his neck. She continued to kiss him as the lock clicked open. He groaned as her teeth grazed his pressure point, the fingers of his free hand digging into her hip. As the door swung inward, she grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him across the threshold.

“I thought you might want to come back after,” he said between kisses, stripping themselves of their outer layers once the door had closed securely behind them. “Bathroom,” he instructed, nudging her with his nose to her cheek to get her to turn in that direction.

Her bra was shed somewhere between the entryway and his bedroom, leaving her only in jeans. She didn’t want to break their connection, but when she stepped into the bathroom what she saw demanded her full attention. Candles and flowers in petite mason jars lined the tub and sink counter. And a bath bomb on the lid of the toilet seat, still in its packaging. Her heart throbbed.

Oh. He remembered I liked those.

The strike of a match brought her focus back to him. He went to grab one of the candles, but Anise got between him and his target, blowing out the lit match. She took the box from him and tossed it somewhere on top of the toilet without breaking his gaze. Her mouth was on the skin of his neck a second later, backing him up against the wall. Nipping and sucking with a couple little harder bites in between, her tongue caressing spots she had marked him. But when his fingers slid into her hair and clenched, it sent a sharp twinge of pain across her scalp making her moan.

“Mm, interesting,” he said, licking along her bottom lip.

It would have taken way more self-control than she had to to resist the impulse to roll her hips into him, and as she did she was rewarded with feeling the hard press of his erection against her hip through his jeans. It sent a current through her, making her throb between her legs.

His fingers curled into the waistline of her unzippered jeans, yanking them, and her lacy underwear down her thighs. It took a little effort as they clung tightly to her thighs, but eventually he wrestled her out of them. He managed to get his pants off with one fluid movement, and had her against the counter in a heartbeat, the cold stone biting into her lower back, his mouth slating against hers.

He lifted her with no effort, setting her atop the counter space, spreading her legs wide open. His fingers raced along the inside of her thigh, finding her clit and starting a steady and slow rhythm that had her writhing in what seemed like no time at all. He pulled away and lazily dragging his fingers aroud the lips of her sex, taking a sharp breath at wet she had become.

“Anise,” he groaned, sliding a finger inside her.

She gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he moved within her. One finger soon became two, and she bit her lip to stop from mewling as they curled in just the right cadence that set her nerves on fire. How he had memorized her body, and the way she liked to be touched so quickly was beyond her. When she couldn’t hold it back anymore, she let a whine escape in the form of his name. He removed his fingers just before she could tip over the edge he had brought her to. Some part of her brain realized she was so wet she was dripping onto his counter, but she quite couldn’t bring herself to care. He pulled her hips forward, bringing her to the edge so he could angle himself to take her.

And take her he did.

Her back arched as he smoothly thrust up and in, her head pressing into the mirror behind her. Her legs curled around his waist at the pleasurable stretch she felt as he filled her, pinning him there against her. The other hand wound its way back into the tresses of her hair, spilling out between his fingers as they scraped along her scalp. He twisted her hair sharply, forcing a blissful cry from her mouth into his, which he devoured greedily, and only encouraged him to fuck her harder. With each snap of his hips his grip in her hair tightened, the tension in her pulling taut until she broke, clenching around his cock in such powerful waves she couldn’t help herself from riding against him. He barely pulled out in time to finish on her stomach. They remained as they were, her legs wrapped around his waist, ass on the counter, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.

“We did this out of order,” he said, his breathless laughter dancing on her cheek, “Bath first, then sex, was the intention.”

She hummed blithely, “I have no regrets.”

He released his hold on her hair, tucking several loose strands behind her ear, and laid a soft kiss on her temple before pulling out of her embrace. He cleaned his mess off her, and then himself while she wiped down the counter. Through some unspoken agreement, he went to draw the bath and she attended to the candles.

Finally, they sunk into the blessedly warm water, Solas first then Anise. Unable to contain her excitement, she unwrapped the blue bath bomb, and dropped it into the water with a very quiet, noise of delight. An explosion of blue and purple spread like smoke beneath the water as the scent of jasmine rose to greet her.

“Thank you,” she said, settling in against his chest, enjoying the way the heat of water made his body a cool relief at her back in comparison. An inky twilight surrounded their limbs, making anything underneath invisible to the depths of its color.

He laced his fingers through her own resting on his knee above the water, and squeezed.

For some reason, that simple gesture, that subtle contact, overwhelmed her. Her vision swam as the too familiar sting of tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it in. It wasn’t sadness, no that was a raw, hollow aching feeling that suffocated you until you could feel no more.

This… this was different. This was overwhelming, and in the best way imaginable. Like taking a breath for the first time after not being able to breathe, like lungs so full of fresh air it sent racing through her veins straight to her heart in a sweet release.

Am I really that lonely?

Or…is this…?

She knew the answer. Had known the answer for a while now, but refused to let it surface. At least, until...

“Solas,” she whispered.

He drew his free hand out of the water to caress her arm. “Yes, Anise.”

“Did you mean it?” She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. “Did you mean it when you called me vhenan?”

He let go of her hand, and tugged on her to turn around. She hesitated for a moment, realizing he was going to see her crying but obliged, twisting her torso to face him. His furrowed brows that softened when he saw her expression. He cupped her face with both hands, the water from the bath mixing with the tears on her cheeks as he stroked her face with his thumbs.

His ever steady eyes bore into her own as he leaned in and whispered, “I meant it,” before closing and capturing her in a kiss. “Vhenan,” he said against her lips, kissing her in such a way she felt dizzy when he finally broke from her mouth to pass over her eyes, whispering “vhenan,” over each one, before coming to rest on her forehead.

“Ar lath ma.”

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #modern au #Anise Lavellan

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megahwn · 4 years

Text

Tatted

Pairing: Park Jimin x female reader

Genre: roommates to lovers

Word Count: 3,850

Rating: 18+

Warnings: tattooed!reader; pierced!reader; explicit language; handjob; cum eating; biting/marking; cunnilingus; vaginal fingering

Summary: Jimin has never seen your tattoos. You decide to show them off.

“You haven’t seen my tattoos?” you say incredulously.

“No,” Jimin reacts almost defensively. “I didn’t even know you had tattoos! How long have we known each other?”

“Too long,” you quip. “No, but seriously, we moved in just as fall was starting, and I hate the cold so I always wear long sleeves and pants and fluffy socks when it is anything other than boiling outside.”

Jimin is quiet, and you can tell he’s looking at your newly polished toes. You start to fidget under his stare.

“So... do you want to see them? I have eight.”

Jimin’s jaw drops, but he nods anyway, so you pull your pant leg up to fully reveal your ankle.

“The Deathly Hallows was the first one I ever got. And it’s a sibling tattoo! I’m the eldest so the wand is my Hallow, and I’m a Slytherin so I got the wand in green. My sisters have their Hallows in their house colors, too.”

“That’s a cool thing to have with your siblings,” Jimin muses.

“Yeah, it makes me happy,” you say with a smile. “And then this one,” you continue as you turn your ankle over to show Jimin the other side, “is the Volunteer Fire Department symbol from A Series of Unfortunate Events. It’s one of my favorite series and I’ve always loved what it represents.”

“Which is?” Jimin asks.

“Doing good just for its own sake and not expecting anything back. So much so that you’re willing to do that good in secret.”

Jimin nods thoughtfully at your answer but doesn’t say anything. You wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you knew.

After putting your pant leg back in position, you go to remove your hoodie.

“What are you doing?” questions Jimin.

“The rest of them are on my arms and my back,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Oh, well you don’t have to-“

“It’s fine, I want to show you! Besides, I’m getting hot in this thing anyway.” That was a complete lie, but you weren’t going to pass up this chance to shamelessly show yourself off to someone you were so into. You figure the cold will be worth it.

As soon as you get your hoodie off you fling it across the room carelessly and you continue with your monologue.

“So these two are song lyrics,” you say as you point out each newly-revealed tattoo on your now-bare arms. “This one is for my depression and this one is for my anxiety,” you say without hesitation. You had discussed your mental health plenty of times with Jimin in the past, so there was no need for you to give further explanation for him to understand the significance of those pieces.

“And this one,” you continue as you move over to your other arm, “is the Dark Mark, also from Harry Potter.” You move further up your arm. “And this one is the Cerebral Palsy awareness ribbon. I was a camp counselor for people with disabilities and my first campers had CP. Working with them made me realize I wanted to work with people who have disabilities for a living. It’s kind of fucked up because I scratched at it while it was healing, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get it fixed. I kind of like it like this.”

“Wow,” is all Jimin says.

“Yeah,” you say, a bit lost in your own memories. Then you grin. “Anyway, I saved the best for last.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say as you begin to turn yourself around on the bed and move your hair to one side, “this.”

Jimin is silent for a moment before shouting, “Oh my God, it’s huge!”

You snort before beginning to explain your final piece. “Yeah, it’s the enchanted rose from Beauty and the Beast. It’s my favorite Disney movie and I love the message.”

“Which is?” Jimin repeats his words from earlier.

“Loving someone so much that you’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness for theirs.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you feel shuffling behind you and then the lightest of touches on your back where your tattoo lies. Your instinct is to tense up because holy shit Jimin is touching your bare back but you resist the urge, instead choosing to look down at your lap and wring your hands in front of you while he examines your artwork. Does he like it? Hate it? You’d give anything to know what he’s thinking in this moment, but then his touch disappears from your skin like a flash and you’re left feeling empty.

“Wait,” Jimin starts, “you said you have eight tattoos and you saved the best for last, but that was only seven.”

“Was it?” you question. Then you remember. “Oh, right! I’m terrible, I always forget about this one,” you say as you begin to remove your leggings down to your knees to show Jimin your final piece on your left thigh, not noticing his eyes going wide or his cheeks filling with color. “It’s the words ‘I love you’ written in my family’s handwriting. I think it might be my favorite.”

“Oh-“ Jimin coughs out before clearing his throat and continuing, “that’s cool.”

“Thanks,” you smile while pulling your leggings back into their rightful place. It’s only when you see Jimin’s red ears that you realize what you’ve done, and you mentally slap yourself for making such a mistake. Most of your friends were women and you never had any qualms about taking off your clothes to show them your tattoos. You just got so excited when Jimin asked about them that you did what you always do to show them off, and now you were greatly regretting that decision because Jimin was looking anywhere but at you. Was he really upset by seeing you half-dressed? The thought made your stomach sink and practically brought tears to your eyes, but you willed them away. The last thing you needed to do right now was cry in front of Jimin.

“So,” you pressed forward as if nothing weird had just happened, “cuddles?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jimin responds quietly. “Um... do you think you could be the big spoon this time?”

This catches you off guard completely, as Jimin never asks you to be the big spoon. Ever. You want to take more time to ponder any possible hidden meaning to his request, but he brings you out of your thoughts before you can fall too deep down the rabbit hole.

“Hello? You there?”

You snap out of your reverie just in time to respond with a slightly pathetic, “Yeah, I can be big spoon. No worries!”

Jimin’s expression changes from one of concern to one of what looks like genuine relief, and you can’t for the life of you figure out what he has to be relieved about when all you two are discussing are cuddling technicalities.

“Okay,” he says, and he lays down on your bed and faces away from you. “Cuddle away!”

While you still think the whole thing is confusing, you oblige and lay down next to Jimin, facing his back, and you sling an arm around him.

You can feel how tense Jimin is in front of you, so you attempt to break the proverbial ice. “This is... different,” you say, and then you roll your eyes at your own remark. Jimin turns his head to try to face you.

“Bad different?” he says anxiously.

“No, no,” you hurriedly respond. “Just... regular different. I’m used to you holding me, I guess.”

Jimin quickly turns away at your comment, but you can see his ears become red once again. What is going on with him today? Is he uncomfortable? Nervous? You can’t seem to figure it out.

You decide to stop stewing in your own thoughts and just ask Jimin whether something is wrong. You go to move your arm that’s around his waist so you can push yourself off the bed to look at him, but in the process you brush against something... hard.

“Oh God,” you whisper. So that’s why Jimin wanted you to be the big spoon. From what you felt he’s at least half hard beneath his sweats, and you immediately begin to think of all the different possible reasons for his current state. When your mind brings up the one where you’re the cause for Jimin’s erection, you mentally scoff.

“Oh, Christ,” Jimin says at the same time. Then he begins to flounder. “Um- uh- I don’t-“

“It’s no big deal!” you squeak out while lifting your hand up and away from your friend’s body. Surprisingly, he doesn’t turn around to face you. Before you can completely retract your hand, however, Jimin manages to grab onto it and bring it back to his front. He holds it tightly, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence is now deafening, so you try to broach the subject again, this time with an apology rather than a simple dismissal.

“I’m really, really sorry,” you say sincerely. “I didn’t mean to touch you... there. It was an accident, I swear.” You imagine that you look about as red as Jimin did only moments earlier, and for a moment you’re glad that he has his back turned to you.

“It’s okay.” He pauses, and you think he has finished speaking and things can go back to normal, but then he squeezes your hand and begins again. “Um... I want you to.”

Your eyes go wide behind him, and once again you’re thankful that Jimin can’t see you. You feel hot all over, head swimming with thoughts and stomach full of butterflies, which you try to ignore. Jimin wants you to touch him? What does that mean? Does he want you as much as you want him?

You must have taken some time to think about those questions, because you feel Jimin shift in front of you and hear him speak up again.

“I mean, you definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t know why I said that, just forget-“

“Jimin,” you say to hopefully shut him up.

“... What?”

You scoot as close to him as you possibly can and press a kiss to the back of his head. You let go of his hand and move your own along his taut stomach, feeling all of his muscles as you touch him delicately above the waistband of his sweatpants. You hear him breathe in but you don’t hear him exhale, and for a moment you feel proud of yourself for being able to put him on edge. You dip your fingers below his waistband and he finally lets out a shaky breath. You continue lower, lightly threading your fingers through his pubic hair and secretly wishing you could see what you were doing, wishing you could see him. You still can’t believe this is truly happening as you inch even lower, finally reaching the base of his cock. You’re touching Jimin’s cock. This has only ever happened in your wildest dreams, and now it’s reality.

You move your hand further down into Jimin’s pants so you can comfortably hold onto him, and he sighs heavily and presses closer to you so that your front is flush with his back. He feels hot and ready in your palm, and you slowly begin to move your hand up and down his length.

“Fuck,” he breathes out so quietly you almost don’t hear him speak. You’ve never been in this position before while doing anything sexual, and it feels intimate. Being the big spoon and holding Jimin’s cock in your hand makes you feel powerful. Hearing him whimper as you touch him makes you want to please him all the more. Even though you both still have all your clothes on and even though Jimin isn’t pleasuring you directly, this is still possibly the most turned on you’ve ever felt. You continue to stroke him, collecting the beads of precum that keep falling from his weeping head, and you lean yourself toward him to nibble on his ear, your breath ragged.

“Fuck,” he whines softly, “if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”

“Then cum,” you say as evenly as you can. “I want to feel you cum.”

That’s what does it for Jimin. He tenses up and then spills into your hand, and you milk him for all he’s worth until he begins to soften underneath you. You remove your hand from his cock and put it into your mouth, eager to taste him. Jimin turns around to face you, just in time to see you do it.

“God, that’s so hot,” he expresses earnestly, waiting until your hand leaves your mouth to kiss you passionately.

When he breaks the kiss, much to your dismay, he tugs at the hem of your shirt and says, “Do you mind if we take this off?”

Instead of responding verbally, you nod and lift your back from the bed to get the offending garment off your form. You don’t even bother settling back on the bed with your bra on, choosing instead to fling It in the same direction your shirt had gone. Jimin’s eyes go wide and he gulps.

“I, uh... I didn’t know you had your nipples pierced,” he says meekly.

You grin back at him. “You never asked.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh at your comment and kisses you again, deeply. He then begins to pepper kisses onto your jawline and down your neck. While you appreciate his gentleness, you do want him to be a little rougher.

“Bite me,” you say, head thrown back against your pillow to give Jimin greater access to your neck. “Please.”

You can feel Jimin pause on your skin, but he quickly recovers and heeds your instruction, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck and sucking harshly. You moan at that, gripping onto his hair at the roots and refusing to let go. Feeling him suck a hickey into your skin was getting you so wet it was almost uncomfortable, and you wonder if you can somehow take the rest of your clothes off without Jimin noticing. You decide against it, and you begin tugging at his shirt instead.

“What about this?” you ask, and Jimin stops lavishing attention on your neck long enough to look at you with lust-blown eyes and a devilish grin.

“What about it?” he asks, playing coy, and you roll your eyes up at him.

“Can you take it off? I want to feel you.”

Jimin’s smile falters at your words. “Fuck, yeah, okay.” He pushes himself up onto his knees and removes his shirt while never breaking eye contact with you or your body, and then he’s back on top of you and putting his mouth to use on the rest of your top half, leaving marks that will surely bloom purple in tomorrow’s light.

After working his way down your stomach to the waistband of your leggings, he pauses and rests his chin on you. You look down at him, and he’s giving you a smile that melts your insides and makes your underwear even more damp than before.

“Yes?” you say, giving him a smile in return. He begins to pout cutely.

“I want to keep kissing you, but these things are in the way.”

Your expression becomes serious as you murmur, “Then take them off.”

Jimin’s head is off your stomach in an instant as he sits back on his heels again, hands eagerly grabbing at your leggings and peeling them down your legs, along with your underwear. You bend at the knee to help him get them off more quickly, and soon enough they’re lying on the floor along with the rest of your clothes.

“You too,” you say petulantly, while making grabby hands at Jimin’s pants. He takes the hint with a chuckle and stands up to remove his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion, adding them to the growing pile of clothing on your floor. Without missing a beat, he’s back on your bed and back to kissing down your body, but practically chokes when you spread your legs open for him to view your pussy in all its soaked glory.

“Jesus Christ, you’re pierced here too?” he half-mumbles, half-groans into your hip. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You smile to yourself, pleased with how you were affecting him so easily. While past lovers had commented on your body modifications, there was something especially exciting about having Jimin do the same. Oh, God, you were in deep.

You try to push your feelings away as you feel Jimin move his hands down your frame. He begins kneading into the flesh of your thighs, and you can tell that he’s nervous about something as he bites into his plush bottom lip. You move to run your fingers through his soft black locks.

“What’s up?” you question him gently. He looks away from you for a moment, seeming to gather his courage before he finally looks back to you. He continues to draw circles into your thighs with his thumbs.

“Can I, um...” He sighs heavily and lets his head fall onto your leg. “God, we’re already naked, so you’d think this would be the easy part.”

You continue to move your hands through his hair as you respond, “What would be the easy part?”

He lifts his head off of you, cheeks blazing. “Asking if I can go down on you.”

You want to laugh at how cute he is, but you don’t want him to take it the wrong way so you just smile and say, “Why was that so hard to ask? You’ve done it before, right?”

“Yeah, but never with you.”

Your butterflies return in full force at that moment, and this time you welcome them. You make him nervous. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, but you like where this is going. You snap out of your thoughts when Jimin clears his throat, looking at you expectantly. His hands have stopped moving on your legs.

“Okay.”

Jimin grins at that, his grip on your thighs tightening ever so slightly in excitement. He replaces his hands with his tongue again, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the insides of your thighs while he rests one hand on your breast and the other on your hip. You’re suddenly overcome with the need to say something, despite how good you already feel under Jimin’s touch.

“Hey,” you say tentatively.

“Hm?” he responds while continuing to kiss your thighs, inching closer to where you need him the most.

“It’s okay if I don’t cum.”

He pauses his ministrations and looks up at you inquisitively, so you continue. “I don’t cum very often, so I don’t want you to feel bad about it or anything if I don’t this time. I’ll still enjoy everything we do.” You’re already feeling brave making such a confession, so you tack on, “since it’s with you.”

You don’t get to see Jimin’s reaction because you’re looking up at your bedroom ceiling, but you can feel his grip on your body tighten again. You attempt to breathe normally and expect Jimin to go back to kissing up your body, but instead you feel a kitten lick to your clitoris and you gasp audibly, your legs widening of their own accord. He doesn’t stop there, placing his beautiful lips around your clit and sucking just enough to make your breathing become a little less even. When he begins using his tongue to deftly lick upward without easing up on the suction, you bite your lip to keep from crying out. You begin moving your hips in time with his licks and kisses, and he doesn’t stop you.

Eventually, he removes his bruising grip from your hip and begins moving his fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal. You let yourself sigh audibly to tell Jimin you’re happy with what he’s doing, and you take his other hand from your breast and you interlock your fingers with his own. At that same moment, he begins pushing a finger inside your pulsing heat and curling it just enough to press against your g-spot. You squeeze his hand tightly and cover your eyes with your opposite arm, too lost in the feeling of Jimin being inside your wet walls to keep your eyes open any longer.

It’s when Jimin adds a second finger to the first that you begin to squirm more noticeably. You can hear him moving his fingers inside of you, practically caressing your g-spot with every thrust. He still hasn’t let up his virtual assault on your clit, either, continuing to suck and lick as if his life depends on it. You begin to feel the electricity thrum through your veins, feel your limbs tense up beneath you, feel the buildup of pressure in your lower abdomen. You know you're close to orgasm, and for a moment you become excited at the prospect of Jimin being able to make you cum with just his tongue and his fingers. Then, before you can think on the subject any further, you’re brought back to the present moment when Jimin adds a third finger to the other two. You cry out in ecstasy as you come undone under Jimin’s touch, head swimming and pussy clenching around his fingers. You’re breathing too heavily to notice Jimin pull out of you and begin to crawl up your body, but you look up when you realize he’s aiming to get off the bed. Your head comes back down and hits the pillow with such force that Jimin giggles in your direction as he scans the room for his clothes.

"You okay?" he asks with an obvious chuckle.

"Can I be honest with you?" you respond nervously, toying with your belly button ring because you can't keep your hands still under your covers. You see him stiffen at your question, so you hastily add, "It's nothing bad, I swear!"

He relaxes then, and says, "Yeah, you can be honest."

"Okay good," you breathe and try to steel your nerves before saying what you're going to say next. "Thanks."

"So... what is it?" he presses, sounding apprehensive despite your previous reassurance.

"Oh, right!" you practically yell before realizing how loud you sound. "Sorry, I just... I don't want to be like those people who bury their feelings and pine forever, you know?" He nods and you continue, "Okay cool, well what I really wanted to say is that I don't want this to just be a one-time thing, alright? I like you."

For a moment he doesn't respond - doesn't do anything, really - and you start to panic even though you try not to show it. Then -

"Do you really mean that?"

You're not even looking at him but you can tell he has a big dumb grin on his face, and you finally turn to face him, mirroring his expression now that you know he feels the same way.

"Yeah, I really do."

#ficswithluv #bangtanidx #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscorner #tatted #jimin x reader #jimin smut #armywriterssupport

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yoonseoksoftie · 5 years

Text

catching feelings.

› pairing: min yoongi x reader › word count: 2.8k › tags: idol!yoongi | fluff | angst | best friends to lovers › summary: ❝ falling in love? amazing. falling in love with your childhood best friend? not so much. ❞ › a/n: i found this draft in my docs and i decided to finished it, hope you guys like it! feedback is welcomed!

You poke at the noodles encased inside the white cardboard box with your chopsticks, gathering a hefty amount before shoving them in your mouth, savoring the taste of the greasy food with every bite of your teeth. Your best friend sits in front of you, clad in an oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants, gazing at your not so cute stuffed noodle cheeks.

After receiving an email informing that your afternoon classes had been canceled, you texted Yoongi at the speed of light. He replied instantly to meet him at his studio after dance practice was over, which is why you are sitting cross-legged on the bare floor, surrounded by takeout boxes, a bottle of wine, and an ongoing episode of The Peaky Blinders.

“Can I help you?” you mumble around a mouthful of noodles, eyebrow raised, after you feel him look at you for a second longer than normal. His laser-like eyes turn your face a cherry color.

He only chuckles, returning to his rice whilst shaking his head, a semblance of a smile adorning his lips, like he is in on a joke you are not a part of. He fishes out a few pieces of meat and places them in your cup with his chopsticks.

“Eat up,” he motions.

“I will,” you assert, taking a few pieces of spiced chicken from a separate takeout dish and placing it on his rice bowl. “If you do too.”

Lately, you’ve noticed, everything you do with Yoongi has become a tit for tat game. He isn’t an aware participant but you’re an avid player. You’ve become fixated with every gesture he makes, too unsure if it’s something more or him simply being himself. Every time he takes a step, you move forward to meet him. It makes you wonder when you forgot Yoongi was your best friend since you were in elementary and before he became the renowned rapper, Suga.

How quickly you’ve forgotten that you promised to stay best friends forever. The promise seems to slip your mind every time he is around, which is usually most of the time. A simple touch, such as his hand on your knee has all different type of forbidden thoughts rushing through your head. Thoughts that a best friend shouldn’t, under no circumstances, have for her best friend. The worst part of it all is that Yoongi does not show any sign of feeling that way towards you.

Hand holding, late-night drives, napping together, everything is completely platonic and it is driving you mad because these are things that you could easily do in the past with no lingering thoughts of hidden meaning.

The both of you even made a pact on Christmas Eve to be each other's soulmates—which could be considered romantic if you hadn’t sealed the promise with friendship bracelets. The subject of expanding your friendship beyond anything platonic has never surfaced and you don’t know how to bring it up without confessing your undying love for him.

You sigh and stab a piece of meat through the center with your chopsticks, munching on it forcefully.

“Wow,” Yoongi lets out, an amused smile dancing on his lips. “What that poor cow ever do to you besides provide you with nutritional value?”

You level him a playful glare and stab a bigger piece of meat before downing it with even more strength, opting for a jokeful evasion to hide the friendship ending truth.

He laughs at your wrathful antics and digs into his chicken.

You fall into a comfortable silence and enjoy Thomas Shelby’s bad decision-making skills for a couple of minutes before he speaks once more, “Penny for your thoughts?”

His soft and curious words make the already alert alarms in your head ring with ferocity. Penny for your thoughts? He could pay you his entire bank account and you’d still remain silent. But, it is part of your game and you can’t refuse unless you want to come off as suspicious.

As children, when either one of you wanted to talk about something but didn’t have the guts to put it into words, you would play the penny for your thoughts game. The game allowed the two of you to have full transparency, without repercussions. At first, it was a simple game, nothing too serious.

But later, Yoongi set a ground-rule.

“All thoughts must be honest,” he conferred, raising his pointer finger in front of his slender chest. “Specifics are not a must given that it’s a safe space, but honesty is the one and only rule. Failure to abide by this rule will result in friendship termination.”

You had laughed when he first mentioned it, but shook his lissom hand in agreement regardless and obeyed the rule diligently.

Until now.

You make a gesture to show that you’ll answer his question once you are done chewing and quickly think of a way to best word your response without letting him know the truth.

“Hmm,” you pucker your lips and pretend to be in deep thoughts before slowly easing out a bit of the truth. “I want to change an aspect of my life but, I am afraid of doing so because I don’t think I can face the consequences if my… change is not successful.”

“Oh?” Yoongi’s brows rise in curiosity. “What is it that you want to change?”

His words are both a reassurance and a concern.

A reassurance because his curiosity proves that he is unaware of your feelings and a concern because he may not have any romantic feelings for you and you might have to resort to lying.

You weight your options.

Oh, the Shakespearean tragedy of it all, to confess or not to confess.

There are many alternatives for how this can turn out. Maybe he’ll understand where your feelings are coming from, and he’ll know that you mean no harm. Years of knowing someone and sharing life-altering experiences with them have a tendency of changing the way your heart reacts to them.

But understanding and accepting are two very different things.

Emotions are very complex, they sneak up into your heart and if they are not explained correctly they have the potential of endangering years of precious friendship with no regard as to how you might feel about it.

It was never your goal to fall in love with your best friend. All you ever wanted was to watch him succeed and create fun and memorable moments with him but the lines between friendship and romance somehow got blurry and you found yourself treading on very dangerous territory.

You don’t trust yourself enough to speak, so you opt for a sip of wine and pretend to pay attention to Polly scolding the Shelby brothers for the nth time.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and you can feel the heat of his stare as he analyzes every inch of your face. You busy yourself with your food, finding the colorful mixture of vegetables inside the different bowls completely fascinating. Who would’ve thought vegetables could be so interesting.

“Hey,” He lets out softly, “look at me, sweetheart.”

His words have you tipping over the edge.

The past few months have been the most difficult of your life, and the waterfall in your eyes is pushing against your eyelids but you ram up walls around them to prevent the tears from leaking. You don’t look at him, focusing your eyes everywhere but on him. A familiar warmth spreads through your ankle and you’re too weak to fight against it. Yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your ankle and he’s unfolding your leg, placing your foot on his lap.

“Talk to me, love.”

When you fail to answer, he takes your big toe between his thumb and index finger and pulls on it, his touch burning you despite the thick material of your sock standing in between his hand and your skin.

“Talk to me,” he moves on to your next finger, pulling on it before uttering softly, “Let me help you.”

You only manage to shake your head, words failing you. The frown on his brow and the deep concern pooling inside his chocolate eyes are killing you. You’re an idiot. There’s a lump in your throat and you’re afraid it will be the end for you. You had one job, and that was to be the best best friend he could ever have, instead, you broke that promise and potentially ruined your friendship.

“We’ve been the best of friends for years,” he muses, he’s stopped pulling on your toes and is now running his thumbs along the sole of your foot. “You know me like the back of your hand and I know you inside and out. There’s nothing you could ever say that would sway my opinion of you, you know that, right?”

His words are a double-edged sword.

“I know,” you offer quietly. “I would never hide anything from you on purpose.”

“Yet, here we are,” he sighs. “You know I’m going to find out soon enough, right?”

You groan and throw your head back, letting it rest on the edge of his couch.

“Why can’t you pretend for one second that you don’t know me that all?”

He shakes his head, eyes serious. “And give up the privilege of knowing you? Not an option, sweetheart.”

You’re about to burst and he’s the only one that you can run to and confide in but doing so will ruin over five years of friendship and you don’t think you can afford to do that. Losing him will be like losing an extension of yourself. He’s been with you for so long, you don’t think you can function without him.

“It’s your turn, penny for your thoughts.”

You’re bluffing and he knows it but he humors you.

“Is it really my turn?”

You nod.

“Very well,” he says. “I’m thinking, that your Spiderman socks are so incredibly sexy, I’m having a hard time keeping it together.”

You kick him and try to free your leg from his torturing grasp.

He laughs and tightens his grip.

God, you love him. You love how easy it is to be around him. Everything is so effortless when he’s around. You slump against the couch.

“C’mon,” you whine. “I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

You laugh again, “Yoongi.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you before he speaks. His words are serious and gentle like he’s trying to get a wounded animal to trust him. “I think I know what’s going on.”

The laughter dies in your throat.

You look at your foot and then at the door. Making a break for it would be too hard, he’ll catch you before you even stand up. He squeezes your foot and you know he’s already caught up to your plan. You don’t have much of a choice but to stay and face the consequences.

“You do?” you mumble softly, playing with your fingers.

You can’t bear to look at him, not when you’ve fucked up your entire friendship.

He hums and it is a solitary sound. That small sound sets your nerves on edge because you know that hum. You’ve heard it plenty of times before, when you’re playing a game and he figures out how to beat you, when you’re playing a trick on him and he catches up on your mischief, when you say you won’t buy him a gift for his birthday if he keeps annoying you.

It’s his knowing hum.

You can’t believe you were stupid enough to think he would never find out. Stupid enough to believe you could hide from the person that knows you the best in the world.

The tears begin spelling before you can even piece the letters together to form a proper apology.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you blurt out. “I n—never meant for this to hap—”

Your apology is interrupted by the rustling of paper bags and the dragging of cardboard. When you look up, you find Yoongi sitting right in front you and you forget how to breathe. He takes your hands in his and places a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

Yeah, you’ve definitely forgotten how to breathe.

“The rule of honesty has been broken,” he begins, his eyes are pensive and the pads of his finger wipe your tears away. “And by law, I have to terminate this friendship.”

The pieces of your heart that were hanging from their hinges are now completely shattered, and it is all your fault. The look in his eyes is too much to bear so you close your eyes, deciding you will take his last words to you as a coward.

“I’ve lied to you and for that I am sorry.”

Your eyes snap open.

Lying? Sorry? What has he been lying about? What is he sorry for? His words do not make sense to you, it’s as if he’s trying to solve a literary question with a math equation. The world is moving too fast and you’re behind, unable to catch up.

“W—what?”

He’s looking down at your joint hands.

“I had no idea my silence was causing you so much pain,” he’s frowning now, eyes burning, he licks his lips. “I’m so sorry sweetheart, had I known I would have spoken earlier.”

All you can manage to do is stare. At his eyes, his lips, his nose, his hands.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would gladly like to begin a new kind of relationship with you.”

Your heart is raising, your blood is pumping at one hundred miles per hour, and your body is on fire. His words are like a broken record player inside your mind. Your love for him is tunneling through you, digging holes in your heart and filling them up with memories of him.

A new kind of relationship, could he mean—? No, that can’t be.

“Yoongi—”

He shakes his head, silently asking you to let him speak.

“You have been my best friend for a very long time. You were with me on the day I auditioned for BigHit and you have been by my side ever since, never once giving up on me. And I know I can be a hardass sometimes but—” he shakes his head and chuckles. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you and that you’re my best friend, my partner in crime and in life. The best damn thing that has happened to me.”

He stops, takes a deep breath, and looks you in the eye.

“I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for a very long time and I have denied the feeling in my heart because I was too afraid to lose you and I thought I was doing you a favor by not telling you but now I see that you’ve been hurting because of my mistake and I—”

“You’re in love with me?”

The sky is falling and you’re waiting for it to land over your head because there is no way he just said what you think he said. Your best friend just admitted to being in love with you.

He nods, his cheeks are a light pink and he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

You lurch forward and wrap your arms around him. Without a second thought, he pulls you onto his lap and grabs onto your hips, pressing you against him until you’re chest to chest.

“You’re such an idiot Min Yoongi,” you poke his side, smiling. “But it’s okay because I’m an idiot too, I guess you can say we’re a pair of idiots.”

“Say it,” he cradles one of your cheeks in his big hand, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You press a kiss to the pad of his thumb before saying, “I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours.

“One more time, sweetheart.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Let me kiss you,” he begs, his eyes are locked on yours and you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

You nod, feeling brave.

He angles your face with his large hand and you see his eyes flutter shut before he is pressing his soft lips to yours. You run your hands through his hair, feeling the soft locks in between your fingers. His lips mold with yours and you move at the same pace, exploring each other's mouths in peace. The kiss is gentle and slow but there is no uncertainty. You don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this before.

He tastes of red wine and Yoongi, what an awfully good combination.

You pull away from each other slowly and he's smiling. The biggest gummy smile you have ever seen envelops his entire face and you’ve never been more enamored by it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he fixes a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes are bright and he’s glowing. “I’m in love with my best friend and she’s in love with me.”

You nestle your face against his shoulder. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot.”

184 notes · View notes

hadesims · 5 years

Text

stinky trashman TOOTH VENEZUELA

what’s up gays here’s this asshole

has the soulmate aspiration, will show up at ur sims house just to flirt w their mom bc he has mommy issues

traits are noncommittal, naturally stinky (cc), and music lover

wants to be a singer-songwriter ans is actually not bad but he always shows up to gigs high and leaves drunk so no one calls him back ://

when he was 6 years old he tried to eat glass and his dad wasn’t watching which is where his gnarly scar is from (it probably needed stitches)

ok enough on to the stupid amount of cc

hair: billy hair by @okruee | sideburns by @qwertysims | fatal eyebrows by @noctoro

makeup: body blush by @simandy | more blush (i didn’t realize but this is actually the blush from slice of life mod so i’ve reuped it myself dlfkj) (if the creator wants it taken down, i will) by @kawaiistaciemods | eyeshadow (rly a 3rd eyebag he’s tired ok) by @dirtsims | eyeliner (only needed for party/formal looks) by @pixelore | nose highlight by @alexaarr

tattoos: vampire bite (wow forgot i gave him this whoops) (he’s not a vamp but he sure is “friends” with one) by @wyattssims | bitten tattoo (friends in low places lmaoo) (this isn’t super necessary) by @faaeish | fullbody tats and face tats by @savagesimbaby

everyday clothes: amazing shirt (a*fly warning for the mesh) by @honeydewsimss | jeans (a*fly) (i used alpha jeans i’m so sorry to my maxis hoes i still love u) (also this is a whole set of pants feel free to substitute) by @gorillax3 | bg earring recolor by @lyriumsims | nose ring (i meant to only use the small one but i slipped a big one in somewhere dang it) by @weepingsimmer | shoes by @theslyd

*every outfit is dressed except cold/hot weather (he just wears the boxers) bc i don’t have seasons lmao. he’s got his lashes and earrings and stuff on tho

WOW OK that was too much CC but also @daisy-glasses and @kitsugarden thank u angels for asking abt tooth and inspiring me to make him

EDIT: I FORGOT HIS ACTUAL TRAY FILES XKJSJS DL TOOTH HERE

#ts4 #ts4 sim download #ts4 sim dl #the sims 4 #the sims #ok...#.mine #Tooth Venezuela #.downloads

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years

Text

Just a Tat Too Much (FrUK One-Shot)

Summary: FrUK ONE-SHOT- Arthur runs a tattoo parlour, one that he's very proud of. If only he didn't have to be outshined by a flamboyant, over-the-top flower shop across the street. Don't even get him started on the insufferable git who runs said shop. (Punk! Arthur). Fic Exchange with browsofglory :)))

Word Count: 6214

Let me enlighten you with a tale of just how shitty and ironic my life is. My college years had brought me unprecedented wonders; I excelled as one as the top students in my business school. Unfortunately, this endeavor had also entailed the acquirement of a rival, Francis.

Francis was a stuck-up Frenchman who I could only handle in small doses before having to suppress the urge to throttle him. He was arrogant, nosy, and knew just how to get under my nerves. He was bright and lively in both appearance and personality, whereas I preferred to wear dark colors and drink bitter tea to match my cold, 'soulless' heart. We were like day and night, if you want to get figurative with the descriptions.

For some reason, Francis found our differences to be part of some bigger picture. A picture where we would someday be lovers. I humored Francis in our final year of college, teasing him on occasion, but never really taking him seriously. In all honesty, I thought that I would never see him again after we had graduated.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I branched off to open and run a brand-new tattoo parlour of my own. All was swell and business was booming until a certain effeminate fiend from the past conveniently decided to open a flower and chocolates shop across the street from me. For those of you who are slow on the uptake, that effeminate fiend was none other than Francis. He followed me everywhere in college, so it was really quite foolish to have believed that he wouldn't have done the same in the workplace.

My shop looked utterly ridiculous next to his. Where my parlour was dark, gothic and, full of blacks and shades of crimson, Francis's shop was a hue of rosy reds and pinks, smiles, and sunshine. The folks leaving his shop would gawk at my parlour in horror – admittedly, this was one of the most amusing parts of the job – taking in the skulls, crosses, bones, and demon decorative designs as if they just seen the gates of hell.

Nothing felt better to me than watching 'ordinary' people get flustered over my shop and those who worked in it. So what if we had more piercings, scars, and ink on our bodies? I've often been mistaken for a demon or Satanist, as absurd as that may seem. Perhaps the pentagram designs on my arms didn't help with that impression, but what can I say?

I didn't give a rat's arse about what people thought of me. I owned my business, and I would conduct it however I pleased to. I didn't have to worry about 'being unemployable' because of my tattoos; my work life revolved around them. The only people to please were my customers; certainly not a snide Frenchman who thought that he could woo me over to the 'vibrant side of life'.

I had taken the early morning shift today, which meant that I wouldn't be dealing with too many customers. Most people came to the parlour at night, especially when they were drunk. Who was I to refuse service? Money was money, and even if the tattoo a customer had chosen was ghastly and horrid, as long as they signed the release forms, my workers would happily adorn them with their mid-life existential crisis tramp-stamp. We did offer tattoo removal services, after all. One drunken mistake could easily be rectified with a fat wad of cash!

Oh, don't give me that pissy look. Yes, yes, I recognize that I'm a complete asshole. Get over it, darling. It's a brutal world out there. A gentleman's got to survive somehow.

Currently, I was sprawled over the glass front counter, face cupped by both hands. I began to bite off the black nail polish from my nails, knowing that I had a long day ahead of me. I looked outside the window, spotting a little girl peering inside my shop. I shed her with a cryptic grin, revealing the fake pair of fangs that my co-worker Vlad had insisted that we all wear. Apparently, it added to the 'aesthetic' of the parlour.

The little girl licked her strawberry ice cream cone, green eyes wide with curiosity. Curiosity quickly became terror when she spotted me grinning at her. "Hullo, dear," I mouthed, running my tongue over my lips.

"Big bruder!" the little girl gasped, dropping her ice cream cone on the pavement, the ribbon in her hair flying behind her as she ran away in the opposite direction. "There's a mean monster who wants to eat me!"

I chuckled to myself. "Monster, huh?" I mused. "Well, that's certainly a new one."

Pleased with causing childhood traumatization so early in the day, I went back to lounging lazily on the front counter. Usually by now Francis would have visited to tease and/or flirt with me. Just what was he up to today? Oh well, can't say that I cared all that much.

BRING!

I looked up, expecting to see said Frenchman, only to scowl when I realized that it was my half-brother, Alfred. The oaf looked absolutely miserable. His wheat-blond hair was sticking up more than usual, his blue eyes puffy and wide with fear. He reminded me of a cornered animal who had nowhere to go…the defeated expression on his face was concerning.

He was wearing a Hawaiian print blouse that was tucked into a hideous pair of quesadilla print leggings. Yes, you heard me correctly, leggings. The guzzler hat that he wore on his head made me roll my eyes so far back that I was nearly blinded.

The twat had gotten black-out drunk again.

"Artie! Artie!" Alfred wailed, running towards me, figurative tail hanging between his legs. "I fucked up, man! So bad! So fucking bad!"

I jumped a little when Alfred slammed his massive hands on the counter.

"Get your filthy hands off the glass!" I snapped. "I just cleaned it this morning. And you know how I don't like talking to people until I've had at least three cups of tea in me!"

Alfred gave me an incredulous look. "Dude! I know you have no soul, but could you at least pretend to be concerned for your little brother?!"

"Oh?" I hummed, crossing my arms. "And why should I be concerned? What could you have possibly done that's bad enough for you to abandon your pride and come crawling to me for advice?"

Alfred whimpered, looking like a vulnerable five-year-old child. "Okay, first, screw you. Who shit in your morning bowl of blood of the unborn? And second, I got drunk…"

"Congratulations, twat-face," I scoffed. "I think the quesadilla-themed leggings already made that obvious enough. What are you trying to do? Protest Trump's wall by ignorantly perpetuating harmful stereotypes? Oh, and very funny."

Alfred sighed, still too intoxicated to come up with a clever rebuttal. "Look, you jackass," he scowled. "I really do need your help."

"Whatever happened to 'I'm fine, Arthur. Stop worrying. I'm not going to party in college. Stop sticking your pasty finger up my butthole?'" I smirked.

"Okay, Christ!" Alfred cussed. "Do you always have to be right?"

"I wouldn't have to be right all the time if you hadn't grown up to become such an insufferable moron," I retorted, only to falter when Alfred leveled me with an unamused glare. "All right, all right. I think you've suffered enough. What happened? What did your drunken arse decide to do last night?"

Alfred pushed himself off the counter, turning his back to me. He pulled down his pants before I even had the chance to say anything. "Just look," Alfred whined.

I covered my eyes, nearly knocking over my mug of tea. "Fucking hell, Alfred!" I snarled. "You could have at least warned me!"

Alfred stifled a sob. "Just look at it, will ya? You can lecture me later."

This job didn't pay me enough for what I was about to see, or rather un-see.

Through the spaces of my fingers, I peaked at Alfred's bum. There on his right cheek, was a palm sized tattoo of an eagle.

"Did you see it yet?" Alfred asked, no doubt on the verge of bawling his eyes out from the shame of his drunken mistake.

"Just one moment," I bit my lip, suppressing a snicker. I pulled out my phone, snapped a quick picture, and saved it to drive. "All right, I've seen enough." Hello, new Christmas cards…

Alfred pulled up his pants and turned around. It was a good thing that no people were outside to witness this potential, not to mention unwanted, flash. "So," he said, his voice jittery and nervous. "Can you fix it?"

"Fix what?" I asked, despite knowing exactly what he meant.

"You know," Alfred whispered. "Remove my tattoo…?"

"Do you have a spare three grand lying around?"

"Arthur!" Alfred shouted.

"Fine," I relented. "You can come in tomorrow at 8. Lukas will be working then. You might need several laser treatments though…"

"Why can't you do it?" Alfred blushed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "I've seen your bum enough times when I changed your diapers. You've really pushed it this morning."

Alfred sighed, bowing his head. "I wanted freedom for this country, not an invitation for guys and gals to grab my ass," he muttered.

"Please," I grinned, hoping to cheer up the poor sap. Being sad didn't suit him. "The only time your butt is ever free is when you've had an unhealthy dose of Chipotle."

Alfred laughed, only to have his stomach growl, and loudly at that.

I shook my head in disbelief, opening the cash register to pull out a twenty. "Go get yourself some breakfast," I scolded, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Mum isn't going to be very happy if she finds out that you've been skipping out on your classes again."

Alfred's expression brightened considerably. "Does this mean you won't tell her about the tattoo?"

"Of course not! She already doesn't approve of this parlour. The last thing I need is for something to justify her prejudice."

Alfred skirted around the counter and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. "Thanks, Artie!" he exclaimed, bellowing into my ear loud enough to cause my piercings to rattle. "You're the best!"

"Sod off, and go brush your teeth!" I grunted, pushing Alfred's much taller and heavier person away. "I can still smell basic bimbo and tequila on your breath."

"HAHAHA!" Alfred cackled, blowing me a smug air kiss before opening the parlour's front door. "Nice one. And thanks a bunch. I'll remember this the next time you're looking for an excuse not to come to a family outing."

I smirked. "You know me so well."

Alfred said his goodbyes, slamming the door shut, despite how many times that I've told him not to do that.

With the parlour empty again, I took a relaxing lunch break, enjoying the silence save for the rock metal softly playing in the background.

The sound of voices outside the parlour a half hour later prompted me to eavesdrop – I looked down so that they wouldn't catch me staring. I had very little entertainment during the day. The only interaction I could count on was an infuriating visit from Francis. Uh, not that I wanted the frog to visit me…of course not!

I stand corrected. Francis's moronic friends often visited me too. Except usually they were with Francis, not alone like they were now.

"But I don't want to go in," Antonio whined. "He's rude, and I don't like him."

"Stop being such a little bitch, Toni," Gilbert deadpanned. "We're doing this for Franny. Sometimes you've got to take one for the squad. Even if it means dealing with a scary, grumpy old man hiding in a 20-something-year-old-body."

The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

Okay, ouch.

Us 'demons' had feelings too, believe it or not.

"Fine," Antonio pouted.

BRING!

Gilbert and Antonio strolled into the parlour, pathetically forcing grins on their faces.

Antonio's green eyes widened into saucers when he spotted the iron maiden prop lying on the wall to their right. His tanned cheeks flooded a faint pink as he nervously twirled the cross pendant wrapped around his neck. He was a very devoted Catholic.

Gilbert pulled up his sunglasses, nestling them in his chalk-white hair. "Arthur, mein sassy man. How goes business these days?" he asked, his crimson red eyes nervously flitting around the parlour.

"No business during the day, I'm afraid. Just nights," I mused. "Unless you two are interested in getting some tattoos?"

"Dios mio!" Antonio swore, jumping back like a spooked cat when he 'accidentally' poked and prodded at a mechanical skull prop. He hadn't been expecting it to shout: "The power of Satan tempts you!"

I pulled out a notebook, grabbed a pen, and crossed off a tally:

Antonio shits his pants for the 47th consecutive time upon touching that skull prop.

Poor bloke keeps forgetting about what it does.

While Antonio motioned the sign of the cross, Gilbert walked over to the front counter. "And what if we were interested in getting tattoos? What would you say to that?"

Gilbert leaned a friendly arm over the counter, causing me to pull back in disgust. I fancied my personal space, thank you very much. "I'd say you were lying," I answered, narrowing my eyes at the German in suspicion.

"On the contrary," Gilbert smirked. "I hardly have any brows as it is, being an albino and all. Perhaps I'm in need of something more…prominent…"

I caught Gilbert looking at my eyebrows. "Is that a crack at my eyebrows?" I leered, gritting my teeth.

"Nein, nein!" Gilbert waved his hands back and forth. "Your brows are glorious, truly," he winked.

I gave Gilbert a sour look; I didn't believe him at all.

Antonio yelped when Gilbert grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the counter. "Stick to the plan, and stop fucking around," Gilbert hissed through his teeth.

"You said we would get ice cream," Antonio whimpered, his mood reminding me of a puppy who had just been kicked in the stomach.

"Hmmph," I crossed my arms. These two were definitely up to something.

"So…" Gilbert drawled, his voice cracking awkwardly. "Those are some cool drawings you got there," he remarked, pointing behind the counter.

I glanced over my shoulder at the various drawings that were pinned up on a clothing line.

"Indeed," I hummed, winking at Antonio when I caught him childishly ogling at my gages. "Those are custom tattoos that clients draw up for us."

An awkward silence fell between the three of us.

Antonio's attention span was quick to fall elsewhere. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "That's a cool design!" He gestured towards a drawing of a crystalized rose.

Gilbert and Antonio exchanged suspicious glances.

Gilbert's cheeks spread into a shit-eating grin. "I never took you for a flower person?"

"I'm not," I huffed.

"But, you draw them on people? Surely you must like them?" Antonio asked.

"Ja, what's your favourite?" Gilbert chirped.

"I already told you, I'm not fond of flowers," I deadpanned.

Antonio pursed his lips. "How about chocolate? Your perfect idea of a date? Are you a top or bottom? Favourite sex pos-! Ay!"

Antonio yelped again when Gilbert elbowed him in the rib-cage. "Haven't you ever heard of being subtle?!" he spluttered.

"Oh, so that's what this is all about?" I rolled my eyes. "Well, you can tell that disgusting amphibian jerk friend of yours that if he truly wants to know the answers to those questions, then he can grow some balls and come here himself."

"So, you do like him!" Antonio exclaimed, beaming from cheek to cheek.

I picked up my favourite pen, which was styled as a decapitated finger. "I'm about two seconds away from shoving this down your happy-go-lucky throat," I warned. "Now, if you two imbeciles aren't here for tattoos, quit wasting my time and get the hell out!"

Antonio's eyes watered. "Okay," he sniffled.

Gilbert wrapped his arm around Antonio. "You monster!" he scolded. "You know how emotionally fragile he is. He doesn't like to be shouted at."

"Not my problem," I said, sticking up my nose.

"Lovi yells at me all the time," Antonio moped as Gilbert led him out of the parlour. "Why doesn't mi tomatito like me anymore? Am I not husband material?'"

Gilbert consolingly rubbed Antonio's arm. "Of course not. You're perfect husband material. Some people just don't appreciate how sweet and adorable you are."

I ignored Gilbert when he looked over his shoulder to glare at me.

When the front door shut, I drummed my nails against the counter, a devious smirk on my face.

I wonder what Francis would do next? After all, it was always good fun to make him flustered.

I had that pretty boy wrapped right around my finger.

…

I didn't have to wait long before Francis strolled into the parlour, his face smug with an infuriating smirk. He was wearing an open collar white blouse, loose denim capris, and his hair was kept in loose blond curls that fell to his shoulder. I felt a nerve in my temple twitch when I spotted the bouquet of roses that he had tucked under one of his hairy arms. He was like Gaston from Beauty in the Beast, save for the muscles, but was twice as grating and arrogant.

The heels of Francis's dress shoes clacked obnoxiously loud as he pranced over to the front counter. The smooth, purring tone of his voice did absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. "Would you like to explain to me why poor Antoine is sobbing? Or rather, explain to me what you did?"

My nostrils flared; the scent of Francis's rose perfume was suffocating. "He came here on his own free will. It's not my fault that he's a sensitive twit."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Oh, mon Dieu. That attitude is exactly why you're going to end up alone in life."

"The bouquet of flowers you're holding points otherwise," I huffed, lazily puffing out a few strands of fringe from my face.

Francis's expression lifted. "Does that mean you'll actually accept them this time?"

"Sure," I smirked, grabbing the bouquet of roses from him. "I'm always in need of something to burn. I can't have people finding out about the corpses we have stored in the back."

"Haha," Francis laughed dryly, placing on elbow on the counter. Shrewd blues eyes were met with an unforgiving forest of green. "Very funny. Let me guess, as soon as I leave, those will be going in the waste bin?"

"Hardly," I answered. "I forgot to get my mum something for Mother's Day. These should do just fine. Thanks, truly."

I was hoping that Francis would have given up and left by now.

But, oh no. No, no, no. Francis was just as stubborn as I was, remarkably.

Francis's eyes widened as we watched me tuck the bouquet in a cubby underneath the counter.

"You dyed your hair pink!" he blurted out.

I raised a heavy brow at him. "Why, thank you Captain Obvious. Oh, relax, it's just the tips."

"Wait!" I fumed. "Why am I telling you to relax?! It's my hair, I can do whatever the hell I want with it!"

I felt my face flush. Unfortunately, I wasn't wearing any concealer or foundation today.

Francis gasped, and in a blur of blond hair, he was suddenly behind the counter, looming over me. "Why?" he whimpered. "Why do you taint your natural beauty with these crude, unnatural colours?"

I grit my teeth. "I'll have you know that-! Oi! Geroff!"

Francis cupped my face with two warm hands, tilting it to the side as he shamelessly inspected me further. "Pink hair? Thick eyeliner? And is that a new brow piercing? Tsk! Tsk! And what is this?"

Francis used one hand to tug at the fish-net long sleeve shirt that I was wearing as a bottom layer.

I growled lowly under my breath when Francis let go of my face, instead opting to grab my right hand. "What am I, a bloody zoo animal?" I snapped. "Is it really that shocking that I have a different sense of style from you?"

Francis ignored me completely. "At least let me trim your nails. Hmmm. Or perhaps those unruly eyebrows of yours…"

"I'll h-have you know that I do in fact trim my eyebrows," I spluttered, feeling my face redden further. There was always something about Francis that caught me off guard and I hated it. I hated how warm his hands felt; how gentle his touch was; how he hummed softly under his breath when he was around me. He was a familiar face that intruded my personal space as if it were child's play.

But, for reasons inexplicable, I let him.

"All right, all right! That's enough groping out of you!" I huffed, shoving Francis's eager hands away from me.

Francis pouted, but gave me my space nonetheless by walking over to the other side of the counter, where he damn well belonged.

I sighed, knowing that he was expecting me to fill the gap in our conversation. Honestly, he could be such a child sometimes. "What did you come here for?"

Francis met my gaze, lips puckered in a stubborn grimace as he spoke. "You know why, Angleterre," he muttered. "I think we'd make a wonderful couple."

"That's why," he grinned, his expression suddenly becoming excited again. "I've come here to prove once and for all that I'm serious about you."

I bit my thumb, a nervous habit of mine. "Oh?" I asked, feeling as if I had just been winded. "And how are you going to do that?"

Damn him for making me feel this way. We've known each other for so long, and yet now he'd rendered me completely speechless. There was something about him today that was different, I could sense it. Behind the teasing look on his face, there was solid determination. And, to be perfectly honest, it frightened me terribly.

I didn't let many people this close into my life. Why Francis stuck around after all these years still boggled my mind. Being rude was a defensive mechanism. I hurt others before they could hurt me. Francis, however, was one of the few people who bit back with insults of his own. I never knew what to expect with this man. Perhaps that's why I was so afraid to let him in…

"I came here to get a tattoo!" Francis declared proudly.

I blinked several times, contemplating his words. Then, like the emotional porcupine that I was, I went on the offensive. I would call Francis out on his bluff. Surely, he didn't actually intend to get a tattoo…right?

"Oh God," I feigned shock. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Francis chuckled, azure eyes burning holes into my own. "You're stubborn, and this is the only way to make you believe me."

"Fine," I relented, smirking as I bent down to grab a stack of freshly printed release forms. "What would you like? Do you have a drawing for me to imitate? Or perhaps, you'd like to pick a design from our catalogue?"

I licked my lips, waiting for Francis to cave. So far, he wasn't budging. I'd make sure to change that soon enough.

"How about I let you pick one for me?" Francis suggested, batting his lashes. "I'd like one on my forearm, just like you," he purred.

"I don't see how this is proving anything," I muttered. "Give me your arm."

Francis let me take his right arm. It took an immense effort on my part to keep my hands steady as I pushed up his sleeve.

"Pity," I remarked, running my fingers over the smooth skin of his forearm. "I can hardly imagine tainting such pearly white skin with permanent ink."

Francis wavered. "Well, as they say," he smiled weakly. "Lovers should be willing to dedicate their body and soul to their partner…"

"Did you just imply that I'm your partner?" I asked, biting the inside of my cheek. Bloody hell. The cringe was just too strong for me not to be embarrassed. How could he be so brash and open like this? If I wasn't so perturbed, I would have felt admiration for him…

"Surely, you'll have to go out with me after this, non?" Francis smiled, his eyes filled with strain.

I couldn't bear to look at him, otherwise my own bluff would be called out. Instead, I poked and prodded at his forearm with my nails, making sure to dig them in occasionally. "Those are some bold words," I smirked. "Perhaps we should match that with some even bolder tattoos. I know the perfect design for you!"

"Sign those forms, I just have to get the machine ready," I smiled, baring my fake fangs.

I plugged in the chord for the liner machine, the familiar hum of the monstrous contraption sounding like music to my ears. From the corner of my eye, I saw Francis fill out the release form, his entire body stiff and his face paler than milk.

Satisfied with his reaction, I turned around, determined to make him sissy out before it was too late. Francis was merely trying to impress me. I was going to make him crack. He cared too much about his appearance to willingly let something blemish his 'flawless' appearance. "Done already?" I asked.

Francis weakly nodded his head.

"Well then," I drawled. "Roll up your sleeve. I was thinking of giving you a skull and roses tattoo. Just like that one," I pointed to a drawing hung up on the wire behind me. "It's one of my favourites…"

"H-how wonderful! I'd love that!" Francis just about squeaked, his lips trembling. "It'll represent my 'dying' passion for you~"

Cheeky bastard.

We were both too prideful to give in to the other. At least, not yet anyway.

I grabbed Francis's arm again. "Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed. "Loosen up, will you?"

"D-desole," Francis apologized.

I shook Francis's rigid arm, but his tense muscles refused to uncoil themselves.

We both fell into a stubborn silence as I marked up his arm with a fine sharpie pen, sitting him down in a chair.

"You know," I mused. "It's not too late to change your mind."

"N-non!" Francis refused. "I want this…I want you…"

My face burned again. Thankfully, Francis was looking anywhere but me.

I grabbed the inking pen. "Last chance?" I taunted.

Silence.

I clicked a button, causing the pen to vibrate.

"I'm really doing it."

"O-Oui, I know."

"It's going to hurt…"

"Love demands pain sometimes…"

"Here it comes."

Francis swallowed heavily. "I can't wait."

I brought the vibrating pen closer and closer to his forearm, my eyes flickering towards Francis. The Frog was showing no signs of backing out. He had his eyes shut tight, his jaw clenched in nervous anticipation.

Damn it. This has gone too far.

I turned off the inking pen. "For fuck's sakes, Francis," I deadpanned, letting go of his arm. "Did you really think I'd force you into getting a tattoo that you didn't want? You bloody, stupid, stubborn bastard."

I despised how I had been the first one to give in.

Francis slowly opened his eyes, breathing for the first time in what must have been minutes. He muttered something in French, most likely a prayer of gratitude, before he fainted, his head lolling against the back of the chair.

"Fuck," I cursed.

I grabbed the bouquet of roses he had given me, sticking them under his nose. "Here Frenchie, Frenchie, Frenchie," I cooed. "Here's your daily fix of flamboyance and sunshine."

No response.

I quickly lost my patience.

"Come on you effeminate scoundrel, wake the fuck up already!"

I then took it upon myself to slap his cheek, scowling at the roughness of the stubble peppering his jawline.

Francis spluttered awake. "Q-quoi? What happened?!"

"You wanted to get a tattoo, I called out your bluff, and then you fainted," I muttered bitterly, crossing my arms.

Francis's cheeks became pink. "Oh," he murmured. "That sounds like something I would do."

Francis stood up, wobbling to the side.

I grabbed his arm, steadying him. For someone so thin, he sure did weigh a lot. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You need to sit down and wait until the dizzy spell passes. And lay off the wine and bread, will you? You're not going to stay thin forever," I grumbled.

Francis laughed, shrugging of my arm. "Silly Arthur, I'll be fine. My pride is what needs to be salvaged. Besides, wine and bread is good for the soul. I won't ever give up those luxuries, just like I won't ever give up on you."

I watched him in stunned silence as he staggered towards the front door. "I'll be back, Mr. Kirkland. You can count on it."

"You're never going to leave me alone, are you? Idiot."

Francis chuckled warmly, sending chills running up my spine. "Oui. Not once have you ever said that you didn't want me. It's only a matter of time before you realize that I'm the one you need."

"I-! Just wait a minute!"

BRING!

Francis left the parlour, leaving me speechless once again.

I cupped my flushed face, burying it in my hands. "Damn him. Fuck me," I cursed.

I paused, realizing the double meaning of what I had just said. "FUCK!"

…

Lukas came in a few hours later to take over my shift.

"Arthur?"

"Wot?!"

"Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?"

"No, why do you ask? And what's that smug look on your face for?!"

Lukas sighed, an unreadable expression on his face. "Looks like that Frenchman finally got through to him," he muttered to himself.

"Wot was that?!"

"Nothing."

…

One week later…

I was beginning to grow worried. I hadn't seen Francis's ugly amphibian mug for close to a week now. Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed the quiet. But, I couldn't help but wonder: What if he did decide to give up on me? Had I really been that awful to him?

I couldn't explain it, but I felt empty. As a man of routine, I expected things to run according to schedule. So when they didn't, I felt…off.

As if the God's were testing me, seeing how long my patience would wane, a familiar face in an unfamiliar get-up walked into the parlour. My jaw dropped, and I burst out laughing.

Francis had 'gothed' up. His blond hair was replaced with a black wig, making his blue eyes appear to be sharper than before, despite the copious amounts of eyeliner and eyeshadow that covered his eyelids. His shallow, slender nose now had a ring embedded at the tip of it, with plenty of other lip piercings to complement it underneath. His face was much paler, so pale in fact that I suspected him of wearing face makeup. His lips were painted a matted black, tight and held in a firm 'stoic' grimace. For his outfit, he was wearing a graphic Metallica t-shirt, tight black skinny jeans, and matching combat boots.

"Dear lord!" I guffawed, wiping tears from my eyes. "Did you just come back from a ritual of sacrificing virgins?"

Francis's 'stoic' expression lifted, his painted lips curling into a predatory grin. "What, do you not like my outfit?"

"Of course not!" I wheezed, bending over to clutch my rib-cage. "You look bloody ridiculous."

Francis furrowed his brows. "I don't understand? I'm dressed just like you?"

And then he became angry.

"Mon dieu! You're impossible to please!" Francis snapped, raking his hand through his fake black locks. The piercings were also fake. "It took me several days to make myself look like…like this!"

I faltered. "No one asked you to do this for me."

"But I wanted to!" Francis threw his hands up into the air.

"Sorry to shit on your emo parade, but not everything can go your way, you know," I smirked.

"I dyed my hair for you!"

Oh bollocks.

My mouth parted open in shock. Francis's hair was the thing most dear to him. "Francis," I began, swallowing heavily. I was still stunned that he had taken things this far. And what for? To impress me? To win me over?

"Don't tell me that dye's permanent," I croaked, biting my lip. I felt downright awful.

Francis groaned, looking up at the ceiling. "Oui, it is."

I left the front counter, walking up to him. "You're such an idiot," I scoffed. "I don't even use real dye."

"You don't?" Francis asked.

"My Mum would disown me," I smiled weakly. "She's an uptight and traditional sort of person."

"Oh," Francis breathed, winded by his own shock. "I see…"

"Well fuck," I placed both hands on my hips. "What now? This is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Francis finally met my gaze, hope sparking in his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I huffed, thoroughly embarrassed to be admitting something so personal. "Now can we get back to the part where I lecture you for being an idiot?"

"Oui," Francis bowed his head.

In response, I reached over and placed my hand over the back of his head, ruffling his hair lightly.

"You looked better before," I said gruffly. "If I can't spell it out to you, then I'll just be outright with it. You don't have to change anything about yourself to please me. I wouldn't have kept you around if I hadn't liked you. Likewise, you don't have to prove anything to me. The fact that you stayed all this time is enough proof in itself."

"Arthur...?" Francis looked up at me finally.

I sighed. "Fine. I'll go on a date with you. I've finally succumbed to the realization that I'll never truly get rid of you."

Francis squealed, surprising me when he pulled me into a hug. "Oh, mon petit hedgehog!" he cooed. "So you do have a heart~!"

I awkwardly patted Francis's back, blushing furiously. "Yes, yes. I think that's already been established. Now if you could please remove yourself from my torso and let me breathe, that'd be very much appreciated."

Francis pulled away, straightening his posture as he beamed down at me.

"I'll go pick up a packet of hair dye from the drugstore. It's painful looking at you like this," I muttered.

Francis cupped my cheek, batting his mascara coated lashes. "As a true French, I'll do anything for love. Eh, perhaps I did go a bit overboard with this look though…"

I leaned into Francis's touch, sighing contently.

As an Englishman who worshipped clever wordplay, I couldn't dream of missing out on this opportunity to make a good pun. "Just a tat too much," I mused. "Now c'mere, you. Let's rub off that lipstick of yours."

Francis and I exchanged smirks before he bent down and kissed me.

Although the smudge of his lipstick on my lips wouldn't last, his unconditional love had forever marked a place in my cold, bitter heart.

Tattoos weren't the only things that could be permanent, after all.

~The End

A/N: Make sure to check out browsofglory’s one-shot. They’re an amazing author :D You can find their one-shot here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12592784/1/Arthur-and-Francis-Go-to-Couple-s-Therapy

Thanks again. Have a great day/ night :D

#hetalia #Fruk #aph England #aph France #arthur Kirkland #francis bonnefoy #fanfiction #prompt exchange #ellawkward #browsofglory #one-shot #just a tat too much #Arthur and Francis Go to Couple's Therapy

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onceuponaprincessworld · 7 years

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CaptainSwan Fanfictions Rec

Hello Beautiful Fandom, here is some of my favorites ONE-SHOTS of our now married couple!!! Some are old, some are new, hope you enjoy!

We Got Us, lifeinahole

How they got together is mostly a run-of-the-mill story. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. A strange and complicated courtship followed. All that really matters to either of them is that they're happy. They're in love. They're miles away from anyone who cares if they are in a relationship or not. Which means their peace can't last, of course.

The Morning, and Then Some, of the Day After, Sambethe

This wasn't exactly the trip he'd had in mind. He'd be an idiot to say he minded in the least.

Fake Your Death, literatiruinedme

Hospital attendings au.

Access Granded, Swanandapirate

This is a AU where Emma works for FBI and Killian is a hacker.

Life with(out) you, Swanandapirate

Ship It, lifeinahole

College professors turned secret dating au.

280 Days, canwetalkaboutcaptainswan

Captain Swan twin pregnancy fic!

It’s Always Been You (And You Should Know That), alwaysaprilia

Prince Killian of Misthaven was never meant to rule-as the second son, he was content to let the limelight and responsibility fall upon his older brother, the Crown Prince Liam, while he lived a carefree life of adventure, tempting danger at every turn-much to the consternation of his body guard and best friend, Captain Emma Swan.

After Liam’s untimely death, the entire Kingdom is thrown into a tailspin, and none worse than Killian and Emma. Killian must now step up to the role he was never meant to play, and Emma must deal with the consequences of falling in love with her charge, the Prince who would be King.

AND ALL THIS DEVOTION, stophookingatmeswan

Kiss me, I'm Irish ☘, startswithhope

Just a little smutty Friends to Lovers (with no pining!)

Friendship Is Nice. Friendship and Lingerie Is Nicer, goddesswan

Emma gets some new lingerie and, intending to get approval from her friends, accidentally sends some revealing pictures to the wrong group chat.

Savior Ink, startswithhope

“Every artist has their signature and hers, well it’s cover-ups. Sometimes it’s to mask a now unwanted tat but her favorite is to cover a scar, or as she likes to explain to her clients, honor it. She gets a rush at taking something unwanted and turning into something to cherish.“

Classroom Distractions, beardetective

Everybody taking one of Professor Killian Jones' lectures knew Mrs. Jones. Or, if they didn't know she was actually his wife, they knew the blonde woman who he called "Swan" and who occasionally snuck into the room and made their professor's always excited grin grow even wider. (NOT StudentxProfessor)

I'm Stuck in Here with You, TryingforTrueGrit

Emma and Killian have a big brother kid sister dynamic. They each have feelings for one another but believe those feelings to be be unrequited. Trapped in Dave's closet, those feelings become harder to suppress.

Not Quite On The Same Page, Nostalgia_101

Roommates AU where best friends Emma and Killian keep choosing the most inopportune times to confess their deeper feelings to one another.

Rm 6725, HelloTragic

Emma Swan is having a horrible day, and just when she thinks things might look up, she gets stuck with a very cranky patient, but God is he gorgeous.

Nurse Emma Swan.

Off The Menu, kissmelikeapirate

The kitchen was too small for two chefs: especially when one was an arrogant flirt who was after HER job.

An Open Book, hookedonbooks22

Emma Swan moved to Storybrooke in search of the sense of peace she'd always longed for.

She hadn't realized that she might find it between the pages of a book.

Or in the person who wrote it.

Dumbledore Guy, dameofpowellestate

When Emma was born she was marked with, in her opinion, the worst soulmate mark anyone could ever have. People are born marked with the first words their true love would ever say to them, and Emma's happened to spoil one of the greatest plot twists of all time.

A Seasick Crocodile, nowforruin

After one too many bad setups, Emma thinks the best way to get out of another blind date is to tell her sister-in-law she already has a boyfriend. But when her brother makes the assumption she's dating Killian Jones, Emma just might need a Christmas miracle to pull it off.

To Repair a Heart , Ice_Cube44

In the 1950's Pediatric Cardiology was a fairly new field. But that didn't stop Doctor Killian Jones from accepting that as a challenge. When Emma Swan brings her young son Henry to his office with a rare birth defect that threatens his very life, they will have to fight together in order to save his life. That's all there is - she's his patient's mother and he's her son's doctor. Until that isn't all there is.

Take a Picture It'll Last Longer, imhookedonaswan

Emma Swan doesn't want to lie about her relationship with Killian Jones, friend and roommate of her best friend's boyfriend, but she cannot face Mary Margaret's "I told you so" face. The easiest thing to do is just pretend to hate each other.

Unexpected, Hookedonapirate

“I don’t know how to say this, love, but I think you’re pregnant

Between Brothers, madjm

Killian never meant to fall for his brother’s girl.

all our friends want us to fall in love, midwestwind

“I don’t do relationships,” she says as Killian takes a large bite out of his half of the grilled cheese. He raises an eyebrow at the non sequitur.

“Okay,” Killian says, dragging the word out, once his mouth is no longer full.

“I just don’t want you to get any ideas about what this,” she motions between them, “is. I’m not interested in anything more than what we’re doing now.”

(emma swan meets killian jones at a wedding. you know where that leads.)

And Now, Here's Your Host, cereal

"We need to pick a lane, Emma. We go full on with the internet-friendly bits and schtick, or we give the viewers another reason to watch — our numbers are too dependent on the guests right now, we want everyone tuning in every time." (a 'Tonight Show' AU with Emma as the host and Killian as the new bandleader!)

Civic Duty, VickyVicarious

After three months of Killian going on about some girl named Swan, Liam gets impatient with waiting for his little brother to introduce him to his girlfriend, and decides to take matters into his own hands. ...In a suitably embarrassing way to punish him for the delay, of course.

Hat Trick, bookstoreromantic

When Killian Jones, the Rangers’ star right-winger, breaks his hand after blocking a shot, Emma is tapped to get him healed and back on the ice.

Holding On For Your Call, seastarved

A little fic because I have feelings about them growing old together. Inspired by the Underworld phone line in 5x16 and set in some happily ever after where Killian and Emma have the time to build their lives together.

I'll Cover You, PhiraLovesLoki

A contest radically alters the relationship between Emma Swan and Killian Jones, lead singers of two local bands. Captain Swan Battle of the Bands AU.

It Was Certain, tnlph

When your best friend insists you marry him for free health insurance, you go with it.

#cs fic rec #cs ff #captain swan fic rec #captain swan ff #my rec list #cs fanfiction

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geekpellets · 6 years

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Vampire Weekend

Vampire Circus This may be the first Hammer horror film I have ever seen. In Vampire Circus a Dracula-esque figure is killed, but vows vengeance on the community responsible. Years later a circus comes to town and people start dying. SPOILERS, it’s a vampire circus! GASP! Let’s start with the acting. The acting is quite good. Not the best, but it’s not really wrong either. The acting here is more akin to that of the stage than of film. It can take a while to adapt to that. That said, they really are trying and their performances are energetic. The child actors are worse, that’s usually to be expected. The acting of the Jester is particularly good, and perhaps the only genuinely creepy thing in this film. Hammer horror films are known for the light pink blood, which I hate. I’m not taking anything off for it here, though, because it’s their thing. There are proper effects, well designed, visually gruesome, but implemented in a way that would seem ridiculous compared to the effects that would be used 7 or 8 years later. The start of the film is awesome. I will give it that. In a span of 10-15 minutes people are killed and seduced, the towns folk are gathered, fuckin’, the count is killed and explosions, explosions, explosions.Nothing else in the film, lives up to these first 15 minutes. There’s a lot of filler in this movie disguised as Circus acts, and maybe it would be worth watching if they were genuine circus acts, but they aren’t, so I didn’t care. Like, we really gotta watch every damn fake ass circus act these people do? I think the first night gets the point across. There are moments the stand out between them, but these moments really could have been done without being sandwiched between unengaging circus act segments.The climax fails for two reasons. First because the first 15 minutes is superior to the climax, and second because the film wants to do action more than it wants to do genuine horror. It’s an action climax, but the film isn’t good at action scenes.Even in those first 15 minutes, the actual fight with the Count isn’t good. Had it done a more traditional horror/suspense climax as opposed to an action one, it wouldn’t have to rely on its weakest property. And can I just say, before this movie, I didn’t think of a vampire bite as an art in and of itself, but now I do because the vampire bites in this movie all look goofy as fuck. There are some cool effects in this movie, particularly involving mirrors, and some cool ideas, but ultimately I definitely not watch this one again. Salem’s Lot Salem’s Lot is about a town called...Salem’s Lot...that gets invaded by vampires, This is actually a mini-series, and it’s considered a classic. I was looking forward to it. I wish I had watched something else. I actually think I’ll make this one quick. In the first two hours of this movie, vampires are slowly, slowly, populating the city, and the main protagonist is living in another movie. I’m exaggerating a little bit, but damn, we have to wait for 2 hours for the protagonist to realize there are vampires and do something about it while he spends the rest of the time dating and talking about his book? That’s not for me. That’s a whole damn movie in itself. Worse, the movie kind of comes down to that relationship he starts of, and honestly I never felt any chemistry between him and his love interest even after two hours of prep. Her personality is girl, and she’s dating him because...and his personality is generic male protagonist. That said, there are good things here. I like the design of the vampires. I like the primary vampire, I’m always a fan of the Count Orlok design. Granted, watch vampire children float around windows is dorky looking, and Count Orlok moves with a stiffness and clumsiness that robs him of his fright. The physical action in this movie actually isn’t good either. I can’t suggest this one either. This movie was so slow, so dry, that I had to watch it over two days, putting me behind a little, which is why I’m writing this on a Tuesday. Probably should have watched the Rob Lowe series. The Hunger This is a vampire movie that was made in the 1980′s, where the best vampire movies were made, so this HAS to be good, right? RIGHT!? The film is about two immortals, one who has started rapidly aging, and a young scientist who specializes in studying the affects of aging that the immortals begin to take an interest in. David Bowie is a damn fine actor. This movie reminds me of Only Lovers Left Alive, but more focused, with better themes, more fascinating characters, and superior climax. For the record, there isn’t a single bad performance in this movie. In fact, this is a movie where the performances must carry the film, and they absolutely do. I don’t think I’ve ever sympathized with a vampire before, but I sympathize with David Bowie’s vampire. These characters express such subtle and complex emotions, a layers, quiet layers behind their actions. It’s fascinating. The whole movie is fascinating. The title is fascinating. Hunger for what? Blood? Youth? Companionship? All of the above? The interior decorator on the film did a great job. There are some beautiful shots. The film is uniquely directed and edited in a way tat is artful and interesting. The direction and editing alone grabbed me by the balls before anything else. This is also not a very gore-heavy film, but there is blood. The blood might be watery but the color is right. There are also other fantastic make-up and practical effects that I will not spoil, but the quality of the effects surprised me. I simply wasn’t expecting it from what is kind of a supernatural sex drama. And there is sex. There is nudity. There are exceptionally slobbery kisses that make me uncomfortable. There is David Bowie’s ass. I just don’t like watch slob kisses, it feels invasive, but it is something that actually comes up again later as an insightful character moment. The first half of the movie is paced near perfectly. The second half happens, perhaps, far too quickly. Simultaneously, the speed in which the second half happens could be reflective of one of the immortals fear and impatience. The Hunger is a movie that reinforces my belief that vampire movies truly reached their height in the 80′s. There is simply a string of vampire movies during that period that are not only excellent, but feel distinctly different from one another. The Hunger is a movie that I would definitely own, and would happily suggested if you don’t mind a horror movie that’s light on scares but heavy on intrigue and fine cinematography. The Reflecting Skin The Reflecting Skin is follows the life of a child who thinks his neighbor is a vampire, but she isn’t. I go ahead an make that distinction here because A.) It’s not Fright Night and B) Because there’s nothing supernatural about this movie and you shouldn’t get your hopes up. Some of the films I watch are horror movies in the typical way that one would expect. Some are less horror movies, and more “Fucked Up” movies. When I say “Fucked Up” movies, I don’t mean movies full of gore porn, or pretending to be snuff films, or snuff films, or with rape or other sexual encounter meant to shock you. I mean shit like Gone Girl. It’s hard to explain, but when something twists everyday expectations, everyday people, when people are physically or mentally trapped in a cycle of tragedy they can’t escape, that’s a Fucked Up movie. That is The Reflecting Skin. It is a series of tragic and horrifying events witnessed through the eyes of a child, and as this child retreats further and further into imaginary things he has convinced himself is real, we as the viewers recognize the child never had a chance, that everything was stacked against him, and that he will ultimately succumb to the cycle of tragedy that has afflicted everyone else, and THAT is The Reflecting Skin. This film is not going to be for everyone. First of all, it’s tone is weird. There are moments of brevity that take the form of some serious absurdity. I, personally, didn’t mind as I love absurdity. Also, even though the film seems grounded, the way it is shot, some of the characters, some of the designs and the acting leads me to believe that this is meant to be kind of a fable, kind of a dark fantasy, some hybrid of Stephen King and Wes Anderson. With that in mind, I didn’t mind the small, quick, changes in tone. If one looks at it as such a story, it is all too fitting, but again, that’s just me. The film is beautifully shot, with picturesque scenes all through out it. It almost makes an empty middle American county feel like some place you actually might want to visit. As I said, some of the acting is exaggerated, I believe it is directed as such. Almost all of it is good. I didn’t care for Jeremy Cooper’s acting so much, Jeremy Cooper being the young child we follow, BUT, he has a way with facial expressions that probably got him selected for the role. Especially towards the end. I believe his acting was flawed, but he was not untalented. Viggo Mortensen shows that he was talented and committed even then. Committed, because he see his ENTIRE asshole. It is not good. I get. Vulnerability. I did not need to see that. It’s not even his fault though. It’s not his fault his cheeks couldn’t hide his asshole. Sometimes it’s like that. We can’t all have proper cheeks. I think the film is well paced. I think the time between major scenes works to the movie’s advantage. I think the movie leaves some things to interpretation, but only some things. It answers most. As an individual that appreciates when something is left to the imagination, I have no problems with this. It is also suspenseful. Not just because you are wondering how the series of tragedies will affect our young protagonist, but because there is a genuine threat that feels both down to Earth and ethereal simultaneously. There’s no gore here. Well, there’s a minor amount of blood. There are no practical effects either. It’s not that type of movie, and if you are looking for that type of movie, this is not for you. But, if you are interested in a dark slice of life tale in middle America, this is definitely one worth seeking. It’s a buy from me. Just...beware the brown eye.

#Vampire Circus #Salem's Lot #The Hunger #The Hunger 1983 #The Reflecting Skin

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