#see this thing eating garbage at the end of an alleyway like some fucked up raccoon lmfao
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Whatever became of the Phantom of Amity Park?
#see this thing eating garbage at the end of an alleyway like some fucked up raccoon lmfao#I see it vividly#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp#eldrich danny#eldritch au#ghost#spooky#chicken’s art#chicken scratch
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If your still taking prompts, how about werewolf Jigen or Zenigata or merman Lupin
Tw: small animal death, blood
The worst part of being a monster isn't the pain and terror of transformation. It isn't the claws and teeth and itchy flea-bitten fur.
It isn't even the constant hunger gnawing like a rat scraping its long teeth against the stomach lining.
It's loneliness.
It's losing what little friends you had.
It's the cold, the rain, the bitter ruffle of cold wind through shaggy black fur. It's the lack of a safe shelter for the night. It's being stuck between here and there, without even the option of a friendly chat with a stranger.
Anyone who glances at you is either fixed in place with terror, or they run. In (thankfully) rare cases they become violent and try to fight you.
Jigen thought that becoming a wolf meant the usual; changing from man to beast under the full moon every month like clockwork. That once he transformed he would eventually change back into his human skin.
But then he didn't shift back. Either it was permanent or he could change back at will and just didn't know how.
Sometimes he wonders which is worse. At least if it's permanent it means that he'll have to get used to the idea one way or another. But the faint hope that he could be human again…
It's enough to drive an old dog completely insane.
Jigen noses the lid off of a trash can and tips it over, snapping up scraps of whatever looks half-edible. It's putrid, but he's desperate - can feel his ribs poking through his skin and ragged pelt. And it's the only way he can survive without resorting to killing.
Even though the hunger never stops and he knows only something the size of a human would be enough to leave him fully sated. Frequently the thought passes through his mind of pulling down one of the sorry SOBs that kick him, scream at him and call the cops (or animal control) on him. If they attacked first he wouldn't even have to feel bad about it. But he can't. After all he was human too, not long ago. Eating a human would be crossing a line he wouldn't be able to come back from.
Something small moves through the litter and detritus, tiny claws scraping against asphalt.
One movement of Jigen's head and the rat is in his jaws, squeaking a death knell as his teeth bite down on its spine.
Bones crunch and crack. Warm blood and juices drip down Jigen's gums and a purring growl of pleasure hums a vibrato through his chest. It's the best thing he's tasted in days, hot and fresh food…
And it's a fucking dirty rodent.
He spits out the sharp claws and tail, the taste of blood only stirring his hunger further.
How long?
How long is it going to be before it gets too much? Before I give in to it and kill someone? It's not like there's any deer loping by.
The best he can hope for is maybe booking it and making a beeline for the country where there's wild game, and probably meeting his end at the end of a hunter's gun as some kind of trophy.
That would be a hell of an end, stuffed and mounted on some redneck's wall.
These past few nights though, misery and fear of being seen have kept him hunkered unmoving in the shadows of alleyways and underpasses. That and hunger. It's easier to preserve energy if you don't move.
His belly full of garbage and fresh rat, Jigen turns in a circle and hunkers down in a corner, hoping no curious eyes will look past the trash cans to see the enormous beast curled up there.
…
Then he awakens, ears and nose furiously working together as he senses someone approaching. He can smell cigarettes and cheap alcohol, instant noodles and wet fur. An odd combination of smells. He starts to growl, the sound of an animal who doesn't want to bite but will, given half the chance.
Another wolf stands at the mouth of the alleyway, brown fur and a long bushy tail standing up in the air.
There's… more like me?
Jigen stops growling and the other wolf regards him with a long-lashed golden brown eye. "Come with me." He gruffs, half turning away when he stops again. Jigen isn't exactly raring to follow the stranger.
The other wolf's eyes glance towards the pile of rat entrails on the ground. "There will be better things to eat, I promise."
Whining, Jigen uncurls his cold, battered body and limps off after the other wolf.
(To be continued?)
#sry for the inconclusive ending i just wanted to get something out lol#jigen daisuke#koichi zenigata#lupin the third#jesse's writing#ask a cowboy#🐇#werewolf au#this is almost more like a wolfs rain au lol but anyway#jigzeni potential off the charts
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🌧️☔️ :3
🌧️ Share something angsty from your WIP
I've been working on Gyutaro and Ume's backstory for the role swap AU off and on the past couple of weeks, and honestly the whole thing is super fucking depressing, but this little bit about Gyutaro being happy to eat locusts kinda hurt ngl
Locusts squished in his mouth. Wings and legs caught in his crooked teeth, guts burst over his tongue, and he couldn’t help the stifled groan that escaped him as the bugs slid down his throat. They were the first thing he’d eaten in three days now, and he’d never tasted anything better. Already he could feel his stomach settling. Not enough to be full… He’d never been full before, but some of the nausea and twisting hunger pangs began to abate.
That was one nice thing about the height of summer, something to make up for the soul-crushing heat. The locusts came out, so if he had the energy, he could catch them and eat them. It was one of the closest things he ever got to a steady food source.
Locusts in the summer, and the rodents that infested their home during the winter.
He shoved another bug into his mouth, felt his cracked and broken nails scrape against his chapped lips.
Another nice thing about summer was being able to avoid home for longer. There was no risk of freezing to death. He could sleep in the gutters and the alleyways. His mother wouldn’t come looking; she never came looking. Hell, she probably hoped he had finally fucking bit it and was rotting in a garbage heap somewhere.
Not that it should matter. She didn’t feed him, didn’t spend a single bit of her earnings on him.
She used to, back when she’d had some slim hopes of selling him to one of the houses, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen now… Not with the way he looked. Now he only existed for her to take her frustrations out on. His shoulders still ached from the last beating he’d been on the receiving end of.
Now Ume got the meager money that didn’t go towards drugs.
Which was fine. It was good. A day that Ume got something to eat was a good day.
I have a lot of feelings on Gyutaro in general, but role swap Gyutaro especially gets to me
☔️ Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?
There's a ShinoMitsu fic I would really like to write, but just don't know if I ever will. Part of it is because I'm having some trouble figuring out the logistics of it (timelines, how it would even work, etc etc) but also because... It would be pretty long and take a lot of effort, and it's kinda disheartening to work on a big long project and know it would get barely any response because it's f/f but ya know, it's whatever. I need to get over that and write it regardless. Be the change you want to see in the world, etc etc, I know like four lesbians would love it
Anyways!! The basic premise is Mitsuri ends up finding out about Shinobu's plan to kill Douma, and decides she can't let that happen under any circumstances, she can't let Shinobu kill herself like that. So she decides to take matters into her own hands
She starts an investigation, and is able to eventually catch onto rumors of a "haven" for women running from abusive situations... but then none of them are ever heard of again. Seems a bit suspicious, so she looks into it, and discovers Douma's cult. She knows she can't tell Shinobu about this, because she might do something rash, so she decides to go undercover in the cult and hope for an opportunity to catch Douma with his guard down and kill him
I'm also heavily considering adding another AU element of this, where Douma didn't kill Kotoha after she threw Inosuke off the cliff, but rather dragged her back to the cult because he liked her too much to kill her. For once, his reasoning beat out his hunger. So she's had a lot of years for her resentment to build, and for her to lay some plans for Douma's death herself. I think it would be fun for Mitsuri to meet her in the cult, so she has at least one ally there, and I want the opportunity to actually work with Kotoha, since I've never gotten to write for her before
So on one side, we have Shinobu losing her mind because Mitsuri has disappeared while looking for Douma and tearing up Japan trying to find her, and on the other side, we have Mitsuri and Kotoha planning to brutally murder Upper Moon Two but trying not to get caught over it
Like I said, I think it'd be a lot of fun, but I doubt many people would be interested in it, and I'd have to fuck with time lines a lot to make it plausible
#hiiiiiii lee!!!!!! <33333#kimetsu no yaiba#gyutaro#daki#au: everyone bleeds red#mitsuri kanroji#shinobu kocho#shinomitsu#asks#kaz rambles#lee visits
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hii! i saw that your requests were open and wondered if you could do like an angsty xavier x reader? with the prompts 38. and 19? thank you <3 !
why’d you only call me when your high? [x.p.]
pairing: xavier plymton x reader
warnings: dr*g ab*use, fighting, angst, smut, swearing, cheating, both y/n and xavier are assholes, it’s a fucking lot okay? it’s good tho promise!
college au!
italics is flashbacks
normal text is present time
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xavier fucking plymton.
you had some sort of an idea what you were getting into once you befriended the gorgeous blonde hair idiot but you never imagined this.
“xav, get over here!” montana shouted among the loud music and drunk students.
“meet my friend y/n! she’s super chill, i think i’m gonna make her join the group.” montana smiles.
“make me?” you raise and eyebrow at the blonde.
“oh yeah, montana isn’t to keen on asking people if they want to do things. you’ll end up doing it anyway.” xavier jokes.
“i guess i just got that kind of charm. i’m gonna go fill my drink!” montana walks away.
“xavier.” xavier introduces himself and extends his arm out to you.
“y/n.” you reply and meet his hand to shake it.
“you go to school here?” you asks xavier.
“no, i do go to the improv classes after school hours though.” he replies, leaning in closer to you.
“oh really that’s cool! what’s your interest in that?” you ask.
“i’m going to be a famous actor!” he says cockily.
“oh yeah?” you ask with an amused smirk on your face.
“yeah, i’m already in tons of commercials.” he gives a smile back to you.
you giggle and look around the cramped frat house.
“you wanna get out of here? there’s a really good pizza place down a couple blocks.” you ask xavier, hoping he agrees.
“hell yeah, this place sucks ass.” xavier says happily and grabs his jacket.
“wait wait wait, you’re telling me you did a commercial for some weird ass dildo in japan?” you laugh loudly.
“shhhh!” xavier laughs and pushes his finger against your slightly chapped lips.
“i didn’t know! it was before i had an agent and i was desperate for a gig.” xavier exclaims.
“mmm, japaneseeee dildoooo.” you giggle abruptly.
“oh my god y/n keep it down! are you sure you’re not drunk?” xavier quirks an eyebrow at you.
“i was just at a frat house for three hours with montana fucking duke as my tour guide...i’m drunk.” you giggle again.
“good point there.” xavier laughs at you.
“you can’t act innocent. you’re just as drunk as me!” you cross your arms and look at him.
“well yes, but i never said i wasn’t.” xavier gives you a smug look and takes a drink of his soda.
“yeah yeah whatever.” you playfully roll your eyes and take the drink out of his hand to take a sip.
“do you have a bucket list?” xavier asks.
“no, i don’t think so? i mean there’s things i wanna do but i don’t have them all sorted out.” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.
“well what’s one thing, anything in the world, you want to do and we’ll go do it?” xavier smiles.
“well...i’ve always wanted to hook up with a famous actor.”
“fuck xav!” you moan out as xavier thrusts increase in speed.
“shit y/n.” xaviers eyes roll back as he breathes deeply.
xavier moves your legs so they’re above his shoulders. making him go deeper, causing you both to moan loudly.
“fuck y/n you’re so fucking tight for me. so fucking tight.” xavier grunts, pining your hands above your head.
“shittt, xavier! i’m going to cum!” you moan into his ear.
“i’m almost there.” xavier says in a breathy voice.
“fuck xavier please!” you plead, tightening around him.
“shit shit...go ahead cum for me!” xavier’s thrusts get sloppy as he gets closer to his peak.
your walls clench around him one last time before you both finish.
“fuck that was good.” you giggle and xavier pulls out with a big smirk on his face.
“glad i could cross that off on your bucket list.” he smiles and gets under the covers.
“goodnight x.” you say sleepily and scoot closer.
“night y/n/n.” xavier says softly and wraps his arms around you before falling asleep.
that’s the night you thought you found your perfect person, but nothings ever perfect.
“we’ve just been on a few dates mon, it’s nothing serious!” you explain to montana.
she had found out about you and xaviers “relationship” you don’t think it’s a big deal. you’re just friends.
“what about all the hot dirty sex i’ve heard about?” montana looks at you with her eyebrows raised.
you rolls your eyes at her.
maybe you and xavier aren’t exactly just friends.
“keep your eyes on the road.” you tell her, avoiding the question.
it was her turn to roll her eyes at you.
“okay, you’re still not answering the question.” montana points out.
“okay! maybe we have sex sometimes but it’s normal! a little...” you give her a sheepish smile and she just laughs at your stupidity.
“don’t tell him but i kind of really like him. i like the way his eyes widen when he talks about acting or the way he gives side comments that fly right over chets head, or the way he has to remake his sandwich when we go out to eat because he has this very specific order-.” you rant while montana cuts you off.
“okay, you’re in love with him! why don’t you date him already!” montana shouts.
“he’s just been distant i don’t know...he’s only been calling me over to hook up i think somethings wrong.” you say glumly.
“you should go over and check on him, his apartment isn’t far away from aaron’s. want me to drop you off?” montana offers.
you debate her offer. you don’t just wanna show up uninvited but you did talk about coming over earlier.
“yeah sure if you don’t mind.”
you knock on the door of the apartment complex waiting for your favorite blonde bimbo.
when there was no answer you turn the handle to see if the door was locked.
you open the door and walk into the house a little.
“xavier?” you call out.
no answer.
“xav?” you ask again walking towards his room.
you smile when you see the sight of xavier sleeping soundly in his bed, little snores leaving his mouth once in a while.
you walk around his room admiring the many polaroids of him and his friends.
you grin when you find the one of the night you met.
you take it off the wall to take a closer took at it but you knock something over.
“oops.” you mutter to yourself and bend down to pick it up.
you pick up a small orange bottle with the words oxycodone written on it.
not prescribed to xavier.
you look at the location it fell and found another bottle of pills.
you don’t bother to look at the lable of it and put the other one back.
“what the hell?” you say quietly, tears brimming your eyes.
“y/n?” a groggy voice fills your ears.
you don’t say anything and walk out of his bedroom out to the kitchen.
“wait y/n where are you going?” xavier asks rushes out to stop you from leaving.
“you didn’t tell me you were an addict.” you say just above a whisper.
xaviers face goes white and he runs a hand through his hair.
“you weren’t suppose to find out like this.” he says quietly.
“were you ever going to tell me?” you ask louder this time, making contact with his icy blue eyes.
“of course i was going to tell you.” xavier grabs you wrist pulling you close to him.
“were you high all the times we hung out?”
“no! not all of them...” xavier looks away uneasy.
“the past couple times we fucked?” you ask him with an attitude.
xavier looks at you and a tear runs down his face.
you scoff and continue to put your shoes on.
“y/n, please don’t go! i’ll stop! i’ll drop the pills.” xavier pleads.
“why do you even want me to stay? you won’t commit to me, you don’t wanna hang out with me normally anymore, and you only call me over when you’re high! im fucking tired xavier!” you shout, tears streaming down your face.
“please, i love you. i’ll stop for you.” xavier pleads again.
“you love me?” you ask him with wide eyes.
“yeah.” xavier breathes, his face inches from yours.
“you promise you’ll stop with the pills?” you ask xavier, extending your pinky finger towards him.
“promise.” xavier whispers and intertwines his pinky with yours.
he technically never did break that promise.
“remind me again why we’re getting ice cream ten o’clock at night?” you ask your group of friends with a smile.
“because we’re fucking cool.” montana replies.
“i wish we would of took a car, it’s freezing out.” brooke shivers.
“here! take my jacket.” chet removes his jacket and places it around brookes shoulders.
“you guys are disgusting.” you laugh, taking a bite of your ice cream.
“oh c’mon y/n/n, let them enjoy being in love!” ray jokes, nudging your shoulder.
“yeah, you’re just mad xavier didn’t show.” chet says while shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.
“wait you told me xavier had an audition?” montana asks you confused.
“i know...i’m sorry i lied. i’m just worried and i didn’t want to think about it.” you say quietly.
the group looks at you with remorse and ray wraps a comforting arm around you.
“guys be careful going around this corner, lots of junkies.” chet says distastefully.
everyone picks up the pace a little walking down the alleyway to get back to the main street.
you turn your head to look towards a group of people when you recognize someone familiar.
“holy shit.” you say with tears brimming your eyes.
“guys be quiet and fast now.” you say urgently and you quickly get back to the main road.
“y/n what’s wrong?” brooke asks.
“xav-xavier was back there.” you say with a shaky breath.
“i think i’m going to head out...i’ll see you at home tana. thanks for ice cream.” you say quickly, walking past them to haul down a cab.
you got and the cab and told the driver to go to Arrow street.
which is not where your apartment is, but xaviers.
you had a key to his apartment so you just let yourself in and sat on the couch waiting for him to come home.
that’s until you saw a glimpse of orange in the garbage.
needles.
you didn’t want it to be true you did everything you could to try to convince yourself it was for something medical, but the more you looked around the apartment and saw the scattered needles in his bedroom you couldn’t.
“y/n, shit you scared me!” xavier laughs nervously.
“you disgust me.” you say say standing up, turning around to face him.
“what?” xavier knots his eyes brows in confusion.
“listen, you don’t think i know but i fucking know. i know you xavier. you’re not secretive i know when you’re not yourself, but heroin! seriously?” you ask the boy you love with tears streaming down your cheeks.
“babe-.”
“no! don’t do that shit! you’re in deep shit now. you know that? i do everything for you and you don’t make me feel like it’s worth it...you make me feel worthless! you lie to me, you’re high every time we’re together, and you blow me off to go buy dirty needles off junkies! it fucking hurts!” you scream, finally telling xavier how you feel.
“is it all worth it? is being high all the time worth it? it is worth to lose me?” you ask bitterly.
“no, no it’s not...” xavier says quietly as a tear rolls down his face.
“then why don’t you get help!” you say with anger.
“i will! i will please, one more chance just give me one more chance please!” xavier sobs.
you direct your gaze towards the floor as xavier steps closer to you.
“one more chance.” xavier says again, grabbing the side of your face, tilting your head up to look at him.
“are you high right now?” your voice hoarse from the fighting earlier.
“no, and i’ll flush the rest of them down the toilet right now.”
and you gave him another chance, and another chance, and another fucking chance.
always luring you with the dates, his jokes, the sex, his charm, the i love yous, and you would forgive him every time.
almost every time.
“how could you?” you say with a shaky voice, tears threatening to spill.
xavier told you that he wanted to have a movie night later that night, but when 8 o’clock rolled around and you walked into his room, you wish you never would of went.
seeing a girl on her knees in front of your boyfriend and him enjoying it killed you.
“you need to leave now.” you tell the girl.
she muttered a sorry and left the apartment.
xavier opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t want to hear it.
“don’t fucking lie to me right now, is this the first time?” you ask.
“no, i’ll never do it again please-.”
“xavier!” you say sternly.
xavier inhales sharply. “no this isn’t the first time, i’m sorry.” he sighs.
“you’re always sorry aren’t you? did you guys fuck?” you ask, clearly irritated with xavier.
“yes.” you can barely hear him.
“i fucking hate you xavier plymton...you ruined me!” you shout, letting all your emotions wash over you.
“you know it’s not like you’ve been fucking perfect either!” xavier yells, he’s never yelled at you like this before.
“i didn’t fucking cheat on you!”
“you’ve been distant. when i need you, you’re not here. you’re out drinking, or hanging out with fucking ray! i needed someone so sorry i was fucking that bitch but you weren’t here.” xavier shoots back.
“are you fucking blaming me? the only reason i’m drinking and hanging out with ray is because you choose drugs over everyone! you’re not the same guy i fell in love with. you say you love me xavier but it doesn’t feel like it...” your sentence trails off at the end, you’re not sure you can argue much longer you’re feeling yourself breaking.
“well maybe it’s because i don’t love you! you’re always on my back and you never shut the fuck up!” xavier hisses.
you’re speechless.
xavier doesn’t love you?
you can see the regret in his face after the words leave his mouth.
“don’t talk to me ever again, i swear to god xavier. never again.” you say as calm as possible, leaving the apartment building.
you go outside and let all your emotions out. your back slides against the wall as you bury yourself in your knees and start sobbing.
you pull out your phone and try your best to see through your teary vision for montana’s contact.
“y/n what’s up?” she asks.
“mon, i, i really need you to come pick me up.” you hiccup.
“shit, of course. where are you?” montana asks with concern.
“xaviers...”
you hear her sigh on the other side of the phone.
“be there in 5.”
“that son of a bitch! i’m so sorry y/n, this is my fault.” montana rubs your back for comfort.
“it’s not your fault, he changed.” you say, your voice raspy from all the screaming and crying.
“i just, i don’t think i can see him for a long time.” you say quietly, burying your face into your pillows.
“fuck, y/n my works calling, i’ll be back im going to call off.” montana starts walking out of your room.
“no, i’ll be fine. don’t call off.” you tell her.
“no, y/n it’s fine.”
“mon you call off all the time, they’ll fire you.” you give a little laugh.
“are you sure?” she sighs heavily.
“yes! now go i’ll see you later.” you shoo her away.
you never thought that day could of got worse.
you groan at the noise of someone knocking at your door.
“montana you have a key!” you complain, going to open the door.
you’re taken a back when you open the door to see two police officers.
“can i help you?” you ask nervously.
“you are y/n y/l/n, correct?” the one on the left asks.
“yes, am i in trouble?” you ask confused.
“no of course not, you’re number one in xavier plymtons emergency contacts so we decided to come to you.” the other answers.
you blood runs cold as a million possibilities rack through your brain.
“we regret to inform you that xavier has passed.”
you swear your vision went black for a second.
he’s not gone.
he can’t be gone.
“what, what happened? i-i just saw him two hours.” you stutter.
“he was found outside his apartment, needle in his arm-.” the woman officer cuts her partner off and mumbles something about being to blunt.
“he overdosed, heroin. i’m so sorry baby.” she looks at you with pitty.
“thanks for telling me...” you say so quiet you’re surprised they heard you.
they say goodbye again and you shut the door.
“no,no,no,no!” you scream falling to the ground.
“why the fuck would you do that? why why why why?” you tell again, tugging at your hair.
you let out a loud, heartbreaking sob and fall onto your knees.
“i didn’t mean what i said...i didn’t mean it i wanted you to talk to me i was just angry. you were angry. fuck fuck!” you wail out again.
xavier fucking plymton .
#ahs#american horror story#ahs 1984#american horror story 1984#cody fern#cody fern x reader#xavier plymton#xavier plympton x reader#michael langdon#michael langdon x reader#evan peters#evan peters x reader
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Moonlight
warning: Light depictions of violence, Aku really admires Atsushi’s tiger (idk if it comes off as super sexual, so idk might be a bit monster-fucker-y) Nothing sexual or vulgar, just him being super into watching Atsushi kill.
edit: Had to fix some glaring formatting issues, also just editted some of the choppier bits of the text :D
Akutagawa had no clue why he was out looking for a pissy tiger gijinka at 10 pm, but he was. He wasn't super thrilled about it, to say the least. However, Dazai had called and explained that Atsushi had apparently had an awful day at work or something and then changed into a weretiger in the evening, and the bandaged ADA agent wasn't sure if that was intentional or because of the full moon, so it was now up to Aku to go find the weretiger and bring him back to his apartment before he could cause any trouble.
Any good mafia member would've told the traitorous sociopath to go fuck himself with a cactus, but some weird urge had led the goth to agree to return Atsushi home for his old mentor. Had him receiving the crybaby's address from his mentor and heading out into the darkness.
It wasn't that he still wanted acknowledgment, he'd gotten his praise and acknowledgment a few weeks before. So while he still highly respected Dazai, he wasn't out clicking his tongue into alleyways and lifting himself onto rooftops at such a late hour for his praise. It definitely wasn't out of concern for Jinko, he could care less if the brainless house cat got hit by a car or stuck up a telephone pole. No, what had Akutagawa out near the hellish docks was a lingering sense of curiosity. He couldn't exactly place what he was curious about that exact moment, but he was intrigued. So, he poked around until he finally spotted a familiar flick of white and black disappearing around the corner in the slums.
When he spotted the first signs of Atsushi, Akutagawa dropped to a crouch and crept forward until he could look around the wall to see a dimly glowing white tiger nosing through a trash bag he seemed interested in. With him distracted, Aku took the chance to move towards him, bringing Rashoumon to life once he was close enough. Either the energy or the light near-instantly drew the predator's eye, but either way, he was now staring into the golden eyes of Atsushi Nakajima, or, more so, his tiger.
In that dangerous, uneasy situation, it finally clicked. He'd wanted to see this. Atsushi's full tiger form. That's why he'd agreed to go hunting for him upon Dazai's request. Not only that but staring into those predatory eyes brought a new sensation through his body. Awe.
"Jinko," He said, doing his best to sound calm while he internally battled a storm of fear, awe, and honest wonder. "Can you understand me?" He asked it nonchalantly, his grey eyes just staying glued to the tiger's golden gaze as he circled to face the vampire of a man properly. With no answer, obviously, Aku took a deep breath to steel his nerves before trying to reason with the creature again, "Listen, I know we don't get along, you annoy the shit out of me, I'm sure you dislike me just as much. But, Dazai sent me to try and return you home, so can you please cooperate?" He asked, but the answer he got was a pretty huffy tail lash and the creature walking past him and across the street to dig through more trash. And for a moment, Akutagawa was nearly mesmerized, forgetting what he was going to say. The hunter's movements revealed the powerful muscles just beneath its snowy, striped fur, it knocked home just how dangerous this car-sized cat could be. He hasn't attacked me though, the mafioso realized, normally Jinko would maul me on sight, but his tiger isn't. Not even a growl. The realization almost made a sense of honor well up in his chest as he followed the giant cat to the next bag of garbage he seemed intent on investigating.
For a bit, the goth trailed after the large predator, his original task abandoned, mesmerized by the sight of it moving so quietly despite its lethal claws and hulking, muscular form. However, his observations were interrupted when a realization hit him like a brick to the face, Of course! He's hungry! No wonder he's been digging through stray garbage bags and whatnot, he's probably looking for meat! He slapped his hand over his face at how obvious that had been, then, he whistled to the massive feline, coughing a few times before he spoke again,
"Would you like to actually hunt, Jinko?" The snowy ears of the creature perked at the mention of hunting, perhaps he can understand me to some extent, the thought was swiftly shelved for later though, he had mentioned hunting, he had no time to ponder how conscious his nemesis was as a likely impatient and hungry tiger. "If you follow me, I can take you to someone you can hunt," he offered, once again looking into the yellow eyes of the beast, almost able to see him contemplating his offer before he suddenly moved forward.
Akutagawa's first thought was that the car-sized feline was going to eat him instead, but no. In reality, Atsushi simply headbutted him in the chest, sending him sliding on his back across the pavement, coughing and wheezing from the air leaving his weak lungs so suddenly.
"J-Jinko!" he snapped between coughs, glowing red in his annoyance, but instead of being even slightly intimidated or on-edge from the show of hostility, Atsushi just continued to headbutt or nose him, pushing him along the pavement until the choking mafioso finally managed to put his hand on the cat's striped, moon-silver forehead, Holy shit, you're so soft, and shove him back enough to let him get back to his feet. "What are you doing Jinko? Don't nuzzle up to me just because I offered you food, dumbass!" he snarled, keeping his pale hand on the cat's head as he glared at him.
The two stood there for a moment, Akutagawa's glow intensifying when Atsushi pushed against his hand and made him step back to avoid tumbling over again, all the while the choppy-haired vampire was trying to decipher what the weretiger might be doing this for. It's not likely that he wishes to eat me. If he did, he would've pounced as soon as I was on the ground...That also means he's not looking for a fight. Could it be his way of thanking me for offering to take him to hunt? Is he just trying to NUZZLE me?? His cheeks heated like stovetop burners at the thought of the elegant predator showing him, his most hated rival, affection of all things. He could handle the tiger trying to maul him, half expected it honestly, but he didn't know how to feel about Atsushi nuzzling up to him as a thank you or otherwise.
It was only when he gave another attempt at a nudge that Akutagawa got the message at long last.
"Oh! You're wanting me to take you there!" He rolled his dark gray eyes at that and pushed himself away from the weretiger, turning around with a huff and starting to lead the way. This also gave his pale cheeks the time to return to normal in the cool night air, though his heart couldn't seem to stay at a steady, calm pace. It kept jumping and thumping unpredictably with the excitement of maybe seeing Atsushi on a proper hunt.
It was sure to be a fascinating sight, to see the massive feline crouched, creeping up on an unsuspecting victim, to see his muscles bunch with so much power just before lunging at the prey. He was excited at the thought of seeing the weretiger's lethal talons tear into a person, and his jaws crunch down mercilessly on his victim's bones. The sheer power of it. The fact that he had fought someone who could tap into that primal potential. He'd looked into such an animal's eyes, he'd seen the human intelligence mingling seamlessly with the animalistic cunning. Atsushi's razor-sharp fangs had been mere inches from such a vital part of his body, and yet he'd done no malicious harm. No, not a scratch. Aku couldn't place the feeling of awe and nebulous adrenaline-pumping thrill he got from it. From being so close to a beast who could end him without hesitation or issue, and yet he hadn't. All of that strength was so beautifully control-
The goth's thoughts were interrupted by another headbutt, this time to his spine, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with an indignant squawk.
"Jinko! Wha- Are you trying to get me to speed up, or fucking kill me?!" He snapped, scrambling to his feet with a small cough and a tidal wave of humiliation for the noise he'd made on his way down, but his only response was another nudge from the beast, one he swatted away. "Oh no! I am not jogging or running ahead of you! Quit acting like an impatient toddler," he scolded, dusting himself off while the tiger huffed like said impatient toddler.
With his own grumpy huff, he continued, leading Atsushi out of the slums and into the nicer parts of town. It wasn't the rich end of Yokohama, where the homes were capped with long driveways and wrought-iron fences or had names for addresses, but it wasn't the slums. The neighborhood they ended up in, while sparse of people on the sidewalk and road, thrummed with life within the safety of the nightclubs and bars that were scattered about. It was somewhere near the outskirts of town without being too far, around there Akutagawa would find the mafia's casino and the one rival casino whose owner was as equally a customer of the mafia as much as a rival.
"Alright, you stay here for a moment. I've got to go find your food. Don't worry, they aren't good, innocent people, so you shouldn't feel a lick of shame for eating them." He promised Atsushi, now standing a few buildings down in a wide alleyway from the rival casino. "You eat the men in suits to your heart's content, in return, I'll destroy the street security cameras." The creature made a noise he assumed was agreement, so he left him in the alleyway and began prowling the street, taking out cameras as he went until he'd not only left the whole street defenseless but also found the owner of the second gambling hall.
Once he'd located the man and his goons relaxing at an outside table, smoking and drinking their booze in front of the closed shop, he used a ribbon of his coat to slither over and knick the owner with the sharpened cloth, slipping away before he realized it was more than a simple bug bite or accidental scratch. With the fresh blood now on his coat, he slunk back to Atsushi, letting the striped hunter sniff the strip of cloth thoroughly before he hoisted himself onto the roof with Rashoumon.
From his vantage point on the rooftops, the wheezy goth could follow the weretiger as he prowled down the street, following the scent of blood until he too spotted the prey at the cafe table and fell into a hunter's crouch. The goth repressed his coughing and wheezing as much as possible, paused with the cat, his grey eyes fixated on the silent animal as he inched closer to the men.
It amazed Aku that neither the owner nor his goons noticed the rabbit-soft white-and-black fur of the weretiger, part of him wanted them to spot the beast before he pounced, just so he could watch them run and panic and really see Atsushi chase down his prey. Sadly, by the time the small group had finally realized they were being stalked, it was too late. Atsushi was already on them, tearing them apart, his powerful jaws turning their muscles to pulled pork in seconds, his talons tearing into them like a hot knife through butter. They tried to run, but they didn't get far before each one was picked off with one swipe of the dark claws, or powerful jaws of the predator.
Akutagawa watched the scene from the safety of the rooftop, his heart racing with excitement, his breath quickening as he grinned like a lunatic. Not even his subsequent coughing fit could ruin the absolute thrill that zipped through his blood at the sight of such a gorgeous, efficient predator crunching on bones like they were nothing, his white fur now stained a lovely shade of red. It took a moment for him to come back from that high and realize that his lightheadedness and shortness of breath had gone from pure elation to an issue, so he had to swiftly fish his inhaler out of his pocket and pull from it, hoping it was enough to open his airways so he would avoid the hospital. He was not keen on having to explain to a doctor what exactly had gotten him so hyper.
Thankfully for the pale mafioso, his inhaler worked. So, after a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure, he brought Rashoumon to life and used it to lower himself down to the pavement again, a safe distance from Atsushi, who was contently tearing the mafia's rivals apart and devouring their flesh. With one final calming breath, he slowly walked over to the beast, not getting a glance as he approached until he was beside the car-sized feline while he chomped at a bone until it splintered.
Once he was sure Atsushi wasn't interested in him, Akutagawa crouched down and gently, tentatively put a hand against his side, feeling the soft, silky, striped fur and perfectly honed muscles just beneath his pale fingertips.
"I can see why Dazai chose you...over me..." he muttered quietly, his eyes glued to the tiger's mouth, admiring his fangs as they worked at the bones and meat of the casino owner, "You are far beyond my power level. So much more controlled, so much stronger, so much more capable than I'll ever be." It hurt to voice these shameful realizations, but for some reason, Aku felt like he wouldn't be judged by the beast, even if it did understand his words, it wouldn't shame him for his admitting to his faults.
So, he just sat beside the tiger, running his hand over the beast's side, shoulder, even along its back, from snout to as far as he could reach behind him. Just taking everything about him in. The car-sized feline didn't seem to care at all, unbothered by the admiring pets, or when Aku grabbed his back paw to flex his toes and unsheath his talons. Some part of the mafioso still reminded him, He could still eat you next, but it did nothing to dissuade the child-like curiosity that fuelled his exploration of every deadly part of the animal, from tracing his muscles, to bringing out his bloodied talons, all while Atsushi ate his fill of his prey until nothing remained save for their shredded clothing.
The pale man simply gathered those up and ran a hand through his chopped up hair,
"I guess I should take you back to your apartment now before dawn comes." he mused, judging that they had about an hour or two before the sun rose and Atsushi likely changed back to his more pathetic, weak form. Aku looked at the weretiger, watching as the beast licked his chops and shook himself off, then turned with a sigh to head to the address Dazai had given him. Atsushi followed without complaint, padding alongside the goth, much more content, it seemed.
Once Atsushi was safely back in his own home, and the clothing was burnt and disposed of, Aku went home to his personal apartment, flopping onto the bed with a half groan, half sigh. Now that he wasn't running on thrills and curiosity, he was exhausted. His only thought before passing out was Never telling anyone of this.
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DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉
I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes.
"Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day.
But if you insist . . .
4. What they do on date night:
To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.
In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .
Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.
You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!
You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.
And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .
Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.
It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.
11. What their first impression was of each other:
Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.
He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.
Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.
And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.
DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.
He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.
You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.
And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.
14. What nicknames they call each other:
You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.
There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.
Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.
In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.
“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.
For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.
Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.
“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.
“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.
“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.
But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.
Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.
“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!
You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.
“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”
A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!
There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.
At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”
And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .
And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.
Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.
Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.
#dj x reader#star wars dj x reader#dj star wars x reader#star wars x reader#dj imagine#dj imagines#character ship meme#character x reader#character ask meme#regrettablewritings#Star Wars imagine#Star Wars imagines#Me: I saw @seraphinativan at the DJevil's Sacrement#@Seraphinativan: Girl what were YOU doing at the DJevil's Sacrement?#Me: lol u got me
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𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. || y.j🌪
╰─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]
✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭!𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.5k
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.
a/n; 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥!
“I can see you as a doctor, lawyer maybe”. she said while they both walked down the street, their jackets being a safeguard to the fridgid weather. It was never safe walking in the neighborhood they both lived in especially at this time of night but luckily she had taehyun, who knew all kinds of alleyways and shortcuts.
taehyun rolls his eyes while chewing on his sandwich, “amara what I tell you about that shit?”.
she laughs, the brightness of her smile outshining the stars that blanketed over the both of them. “I’m serious tae. you’re smart. you can be someone if you applied yourself”.
“yeah well I don’t want to hear that. you know who you sound like and it pisses me off”.
she sighs as her parted curly hair sifted over the side of her face in the breeze. taehyun was going to say that she sounded just like his parents. well, adopted parents. He hated when anyone called them his parents because, well, they weren’t. And tae hated them. his real parents were locked away in prison for a school of crimes taehyun could recite on his own. Theft, Assault, Arson, Burglary, the list could go on for decades.
she grins playfully pushing him to the side, “stop being so salty. You know I’m just looking out for you”.
“you know I’ll be fine amara. what you need to do is watch out for yourself. I see the way these guys stare at you”.
now she was the one rolling her eyes. “Yeah and you know Sammy will kill them all”. Taehyun sucks his teeth. “Fuck Sammy”.
Sammy was her boyfriend. smooth brown skin, pretty teeth and long hair that he always wore in a high bun—- real cute Hispanic guy. Taehyun never liked him though because of all the shit he caused. He was a real troublemaker and taehyun thought amara only looked past his ways because she thought that was all she could ever get.
taehyun knew she deserved better. Amara was his best friend after all. he knew who she was capable of being.
Approaching her building there was a group of men outside the apartment building she lived in, smoking weed, talking and laughing about some bullshit dice game. one of them being Sammy. Taehyun spotted him even from the distance they were at.
“Speaking of the damn devil”.
Amara slaps him on the shoulder and laughs. “I’ll catch you at school tyun. Make sure you go home!”.
Taehyun kisses her on the cheek and side hugs her with care. “I’ll think about it. Be safe amara. I love you”.
“I will bozo”. she couldn’t help but insult before closing the distance between her and her apartment building. With a blunt between his fingers Sammy spots her, smiling down at her five foot three frame. And he wasn’t the only one sneaking glances of course. Being quite thicker in the thighs and wider in the hips it was normal for guys to look at her.
“hey baby. Who was that?”.
“taehyun”.
He hums, looking at the ground before looking at her, his what was once pink lips blackening from all the weed he smoked. he furrowed a brow.
“you know I don’t like that little son of a bitch”.
“alright Sammy, please. I don’t have time for this shit tonight. He’s my best friend and you know that”.
He clutches her arm tightly, “I said I don’t like his ass. You shouldn’t be hanging out with him”. he orders and she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t sober. she gasps at the sudden pain and try to rip away from his grip but couldn’t due to his strength.
“Sammy get off of me!”.
He grins, “stop being so loud girl. What’s all the fuss about. Don’t you like it when I grab you like this?”.
he stares in her face trying to be sexy but looking more like a drunken pervert. she immediately became uncomfortable and tries to pry herself off of him but he only grips her tighter worsening the pain.
“Sammy stop it! You’re drunk”.
“I don’t want you hanging out with taehyun anymore you understand me?”. His breath reeked of alcohol.
“Get the fuck off me!”.
He finally throws her to the ground as if she were a garbage can herself. If it wasn’t for her protecting her fall with her hands she would’ve been planted face first in the cement. She was angry though, and not to mention she was already freezing.
Getting back up she dusted off her hands and angrily pushed Sammy backwards. “Don’t you put your fucking hands on me!”.
he raises his hand and slaps her good and hard. It was normal, her and him. It was normal for them to fight like that whenever Sammy got like this. And she would combat it the same way each time, punching him in his jaw before storming into the old, torn and piss smelling hallways of her apartment building. Luckily she lived on the third floor so the walk upstairs wasn’t all that bad. Except she always got a whiff of a bunch of weird smells when going up them.
she got to her landing with an aching face and a purring sound behind her. she turns quickly, startled at the sudden noise. Her nerves came to end though when she realized it was just beomgyu feeding some stray cat that always sat at the front of his apartment door. she was going to speak to him until she heard thumping noises above them both and a bunch of loud and erotic moaning.
The both of them glare at each other and laugh.
“beomgyu when are you going to tell your parents that they aren’t on their honeymoon every fucking night?”.
he smiles stroking the head of the grey cat softly. “Hey if eating each other’s pussies keep them off my ass then I’m all for it”.
beomgyu’s parents got divorced when he was really young and left his mother high and dry when he found out she was a full blown lesbian. Leaving beomgyu to be raised by two women since his father wanted nothing to do with him anymore, as if it were his fault. Not that it ever bothered beomgyu though. He never minded especially since his dad was a grade A asshole.
she laughs and starts her way to her own apartment across the hall with the sound of beomgyu trying to bribe the cat to come into his apartment as the background noise. As soon as she twists the brass knob she was pissed. The fact that it was even unlocked could’ve been hazardous. Anyone could’ve came in and robbed the place. She opens the door and shuts it behind herself.
She almost shit herself though when she was immediately greeted by her mother standing in front of her. She didn’t know what her mother had been doing prior to her arrival but she didn’t look good at all.
“Ma? You alright?”. Amara asks trying to catch a clue in the women’s eyes. Except she got nothing but a woozy stare. “Tariq wants us to have privacy tonight. You have to go somewhere else”. She blatantly says out of nowhere. Amara could feel herself clenching her fists,
Tariq was her controlling, manipulative ass stepfather.
“Go somewhere else?!”.
“Yes, just for this one night amara”.
“Ma!! You’re acting like I have other places to stay. Why are you kicking me out because he wants alone time?!”.
“Don’t talk to me like that girl. Like I said, for just this one night. You’re more tha welcomed to get some over night clo—“.
“Fuck that!”. Amara screams and makes her exit right then and there before she did anything she regretted. with her back now against the door she breathes in deep breaths trying calm herself as best as she possibly could.
All the while some boy with sleek black parted hair and specs was watching the episode unravel on his way down the stairs. She grew angry at the curiosity in his eyes.
“What the fuck are you looking at yeonjun?”.
“You need a place to stay mean ass?”. He asks calmly. Living in the same place for so long it was normal for everyone to know everyone. It’s just, yeonjun wasn’t someone she talked to normally.
Normally it would be Taehyun and Summer she talked to most. Summer was another best friend of hers whose dating tyun and just as annoying as him almost if not more. There’s was also heuning kai and occasionally beomgyu.
funny how yeonjun thought she was the most gorgeous girl in the world though.
she sighs trying to remove her own hostility. It wasn’t yeonjun’s fault that her mother was a bitch and to be honest, besides the fact that his dad is in the military and his mom acted a little off sometimes, she knew staying at his place wouldn’t be all that bad.
“yeah, I guess”.
she finally gives in having no choice. yeonjun gestures towards the stairs and brings her up to his apartment. she was happy to finally get a whiff of something good, home cooking made by his mother.
“Mom! Amara is staying tonight!”. He yells before directing her to take her coat off and place it on the coat rack at the door. she felt a little naked in her leggings and sweater she had to admit. but she also thought his apartment was way nicer than anyone else in the building who did absolutely nothing with theirs or just had no taste in good decor.
“I don’t want you getting ideas first off. This is a one night thing”. She declared as soon as she entered his room which had a quirky aesthetic vibe she liked. Records on the wall and lava lamps on his dressers and desk. Sneakers lined up underneath his bed and a pretty overflowing closet.
he held his hands up in surrender and laughs, “I’m not getting ideas trust me. But as you can see I have two beds so— you can sleep on the other one if you want. The sheets are clean”.
“Thank you yeonjun. You invite hoes over often? Mr.Two beds?”. She says plopping on the soft surface.
“no, just you”. He teases leaving amara launching a pillow at him jokingly. “hey! I am not a hoe”. This is just what yeonjun loved about her. She was easy going. Never took jokes that serious and loved to laugh.
“hey I don’t know what you do with your free time”. He jokes again.
“schoolwork thank you very much”.
“Ah, that’s something a hoe would say”.
Amara laughs again, not expecting yeonjun to be as funny as he was. He was also kind of cuter upclose but that didn’t matter. She had Sammy.
“If I’m such a hoe isn’t this the part where we’re supposed to fuck?”.
hearing that sentence was like a punch in the gut to yeonjun, it was something he definitely wasn’t expecting her to say. He jokes back, “what are we waiting for then?”.
oddly enough the room became silent once that statement left his lips. It was an innocent gaze at first but it became heated quickly. she figured after the night she had, what else could go wrong? She needs some type of fix.
And this is what led her slowly crawling over the bed and on the floor in front of yeonjun who was sitting on the bed across from her. she lays her head on his inner thigh gazing up at him with her pretty dark brown eyes. “you’re right...what are we waiting for?”. She repeats, rubbing the bulge poking out of his sweatpants.
He didn’t stop her at all, instead he grabs her hair and bite his lips, staring down at her under his circular frames. “Tsk. These the games we’re playing?”.
she slowly drags down his briefs, “only if you don’t tell anyone”. She wasted no time rolling her lips down his veiny thick length. Yeonjun’s hips twitch at the sudden feeling. The heat of her mouth worked wonders. She bobs her head with care, making sure she was licking and sucking anything she could get to. And already yeonjun was groaning underneath his breath.
she only came up for air and let her slimy tongue wrap around the tip of his dick cleaning it of his precum and sliding her tongue in between the slit naughtily. Yeonjun grunts lowly again clutching the strands of her hair harder,
“god I’m going to have to fuck the shit out of you after this”.
#soobin#yeonjun drabble#beomgyu#yeonjun#heuning kai#taehyun#txt#txt imagines#choi yeonjun#yeonjun smut
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La Famiglia || Choose Your Own Adventure
(HERE IT IS GUYS!) 4k words!
Fuck. Your head throbbed. Your eyes were still closed as you pressed your fingers to your forehead. It must have been bruised. Maybe you hit your head? You opened your eyes, blinking to get used to the lighting of the world you. Your vision was blurry. You rubbed your eyes. What you saw was not familiar.
You were in an alley. In the shadow of two buildings. It was daylight out, the sun shone brightly in the sky. It smelled weird, there were a few garbage cans around you. That explained it.
You were sat down on the pavement, leaned up against a brick wall. You rested your hand back on it, feeling its texture. Where were you? You had yet to ask yourself.
You stood yourself up, dizzy. You groaned. Your head hurt like a bitch. You used the wall for support. You had to rest a moment before you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping into the middle of the alleyway. You let out a long breath as you struggled to walk out into the light. You blocked the sun with your palm. What you saw before you was most definitely a place you hadn’t been before. The people seemed different too. You took a moment to take everything in. You then realized they were speaking Italian. Heh? Why are they speaking Italian?
You stepped out onto the sidewalk and were immediately bumped into.
“Watch it, idiota.”
“Scusi!”
Wait…Scusi? Was that Italian? You meant to apologize in English, but instead that was what came out. Soon enough, the words that people were saying were clear to you. You understood every word. There were so many things you were questioning at this point. It was wearing you out.
You grabbed your forearm where the man bumped you. It was sore. The only thing you could do was continue to walk around. Cars passed you by as you walked, you were looking at your feet, not the best idea. You ended up running into someone else. You looked up just in time to head face first into their chest.
“Oof!”
You began to stumble backwards, but strong hands took hold of your biceps. You had to catch your breath as they steadied you. You looked up at his face. His intense blue eyes caught your full attention. You were speechless. He observed you.
“Are you alright?” He asked you. It took you a few moments to reply, you were somewhat hypnotized.
“No, not really.” You were staring at him. It didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. His black hair shone nicely in the sunlight. His bob-like haircut suited him. You had never seen someone who wasn’t a woman pull it off. He had orange clips on either side of his head above his bangs. You noticed his look of concern then.
“What happened to you?” He asked. He still held your arms. You swallowed.
“I don’t know. I-I have no idea what’s going on.” You began to lose yourself in your uncertainty, you began to hyperventilate. The man gently squeezed your arms.
“Amica, come with me. I can help.” His words caught you off guard, you had been looking away, but you looked back at him. You had an odd feeling that you could trust him. You nodded.
“O-Okay.” He let go of one of your arms but kept ahold of the other one. You could tell he was going to protect you.
He led you a simple Italian restaurant. He took you to a small booth. He sat you down on one side. He sat across from you.
“Tell me your name.”
Was the first thing he said to you at the table. You shyly replied.
“I’m (Y/N).” You felt as though you should give him more information, but you honestly couldn’t remember a single thing about yourself. You knew who you were…but many things seemed to have just left your mind. Where you were from, who you family was. This was getting even scarier. The man could tell you were having a hard time.
“I’m glad to meet you, (Y/N). I am Bruno Bucciarati.” He put his hand to his chest and nodded to you. Putting a name to the face was incredibly helpful. You managed a small smile. A waiter then approached the table.
“Buonjiorno, Amici. What would you like?” He held a pen and notepad in front of him. You shook your head, but Bruno spoke.
“You can have whatever you’d like.” He assured you with a kind smile. You hadn’t even touched the menu, but you were familiar enough with Italian food.
“C-Can I get Spaghetti Bolognese, please?” You asked nervously. The server wrote it down.
“And you, Amico?” He asked Bruno. He just waved his hand and shook his head. The waiter walked away. You looked at the other in confusion.
“I’m not hungry, don’t worry.” His smile remained. It was extremely comforting. You let out a gentle huff.
“Thank you for this. I’m really hungry.” You admitted, reaching for the napkin in front of you. You began to fold it, distracting yourself momentarily before Bruno spoke.
“Do you have anything else to tell me? I don’t see many people wandering around Naples looking like you do.” He asked you, genuinely curious. He seemed to actually be worried about you. You replied.
“I-I don’t know. I woke up in an alley, I-.” You reached for your forehead and touched it, hissing.
“I-I had this, but I don’t remember what happened. I don’t even have the slightest clue.” You reached for the napkin again. Bruno didn’t speak. He wanted you to continue, so you did.
“I suppose I have a concussion. All I know is my name…my age…” You stopped for a moment, trying to think of anything else, but you were at a loss. Bruno took notice.
“If you let me help you, I will try to do so.” He told you. His words calmed you. You might end up being okay after all. Then came your food.
“Here you go, Amica, enjoy. I will bring you some water.” He left once more. You looked at the plate in front of you, taking a deep breath in. How wonderful. It looked delectable; all you did was stare at it for a moment. The man across from you chuckled before saying something.
“Are you going to eat? It is food, after all.” He snapped you out of your trance and you picked up your fork and spoon, spinning a few noodles together before you brought them up to you mouth, taking a bite. You smiled as you chewed. And damn good. It was authentic after all. You went in for another bite. It was a little too big.
“Mmm!” You struggled to chew, and Bruno couldn’t help but start laughing at you.
“Slow down, Amica. You’ll choke.” He reminded you as if you were a child. You certainly felt like one in this moment. You did as he said and swallowed with a gasp. You cleared your throat. You became red in the face. How could you be such a slob in front of someone who was being so kind to you?
You set your fork down, deciding to take a break. Your waiter came back with the water.
“Oh, Grazie. You and Bruno spoke at the same time. You smiled at each other. The waiter died the same and left the two of you. You immediately took a few gulps. You felt so dehydrated. You only hoped this, and the food would help your pounding head. You swallowed before speaking. You had another question.
“U-Uh, am I, am I in Italy? You mentioned Naples…” You asked nervously. You assumed the answer was yes. You were so far from home. You felt so alone.
“Si. We are in Naples.” He replied. He was completely aware that your lack of knowledge in this situation was scaring you.
“O-Oh…” You replied. He had to ask something else though.
“Though I must say, your Italian is near perfect.” One of his brows was lifted. It seemed very strange. He rested his elbows on the table. You decided to pick up your fork and begin eating again.
“Honestly…I haven’t the slightest clue as to how I’m speaking it…I’ve never learned.” You took bite after bite after speaking, but you had slowed down. The other squinted his eyes. How peculiar this was.
“Strange.” Was all he replied with as he watched you eat and drink.
“You’re telling me…” You replied between bites. Soon enough you were finished, clearing your plate. You set your fork down and picked up your napkin, wiping your mouth.
“Do I-have anything on my face?” You had to ask. You didn’t want to walk around with red sauce as lipstick.
“No, you’ve got it all.” He thought your question was rather cute. In fact, he thought you were cute. A smile remained on his face as he thought about that. You spoke again.
“For the food…grazie mille…” You almost felt guilty for letting him pay for your food. You were a stranger. Sure, you were in distress, but still. This had must have been the reason you trusted him you supposed.
“No need. You need to eat.” He told you. He got up from his seat and held out his hand for you to take.
“I’m going to find a safe place for you.” You hesitated to take his hand, looking up at him.
“With you?” You asked. You had hoped he would say yes.
“No. I’m afraid not.” His smile was no longer present. Neither was yours. You took his hand.
“Oh, well…I’d like to stay with you. You’ve done so much for me. You’re the only person I have.” You explained to him. He let go of your hand as you left the restaurant. Your mood wasn’t in tip-top shape.
“I promise you that you are better off elsewhere.” He glanced at you as he led you down the sidewalk. He was taking you somewhere. You had no idea where. You stayed close to him.
“May I ask why that is-.” He cut you off.
“No.” Was all he replied with. You looked down, regretting questioning his answer.
“Midispiace molto, Amica.”. He was the guilty one. He didn’t mean to speak to you in that manner. You looked back at him.
“It’s Ok-,”
Suddenly you felt a sharp pain against your upper back, you’d never felt such pain before. You felt your muscles break open. Your bones felt as if they had shattered. You took in a very deep and sharp breath, crying out. You began to keel over, but Bruno caught you.
“(Y/N)?” He held your shoulders. You couldn’t speak. The searing pain left you unable. Your eyes were wide when you looked at him. You needed help. You needed this pain to leave. Your head fell back. You lost consciousness.
Bruno panicked as he held you. If he had a plan, this certainly wasn’t a part of it. Merda. What was he to do? When people began to stare, he picked you up bridal style. This was certainly not normal. There was something going on here. Something going on with you. He had to figure it out. And there was only one place where he could do that.
-
You woke up on a couch in an unfamiliar setting. Your eyes fluttered open, you looked over to see six men, one of them was them was the man that helped you. You managed to sit up. Your back was sore, but the pain seemed to have subsided…you couldn’t even begin to guess how that was. You had felt like you had broken your back. Like someone…shot you with an arrow…You cleared your throat. It was dry. The men all looked at you.
“Oh! (Y/N).” Bruno hurried over to you and knelt. His familiar voice and face calmed you. He put a hand on your shoulder.
“How are you? Are you in pain?” He asked you hurriedly. You shook your head. You honestly began to feel fine. You were a little hunched over though. You looked past Bruno at the other men. They all stared at you. Bruno spoke to you.
“Men, this is (Y/N).” He told them. They didn’t say anything back. Two of them were eating donuts. Bruno scoffed.
“Are you going to be mature and say hello, S idioti?” He scolded them. They all stiffened and one by one said hello.
“Hey.” Said one of the men eating a donut. He wore an outfit like something you’d never seen before. He wore a cropped blue and red sweater with striped red pants accompanied by some sort of head gear of the same two colors, an arrow design went down the middle. There were white crises cross patterns on his sweater. His boots were tall and white. He looked to be in his late teens. He was bullt slim but was muscular. You could tell he was a personality. He wasn’t bad looking in the slightest. His dark eyes complimented his tan skin tone.
“Hey there!” This one smiled brightly at you. It was refreshing. He wore black pants and a black top with straps that went up to his collar. He fashioned what seemed to be an orange skirt of some sort. His hair was dark and messy, an orange bandana accompanied it. He must have been a bit younger than the first. Slim as well, sort of lanky, but he definitely did some working out. It was odd to see someone that young with a body like that. He was adorable. His purple eyes seemed to sparkle. He sported a light tan.
These men were already getting extremely hard to describe. You simply couldn’t imagine what their personalities must be like.
“Hey.” This one seemed uninterested. He didn’t even look at you. He had light grey to white long hair, some sort of purple head piece on the top of his head. His outfit was impressive and unique. He wore a long dark, lapel less overcoat. He had purple laces that crossed his chest. Wow. Sexy. Dark bell-bottoms matched his coat. Black shoes. The buckle of his belt has an insignia of an A. He wore purple lipstick. Oh, brave. It looked good on him. He was visible taller than the others, a slim built, but definitely a little bigger. You had yet to get a look at his eyes. This one was pale.
“Mm.” Was all this one’s greeting was. He also didn’t seem to be interested, but he did flash a small smile. He wore a two-piece suit that looked like it had definitely been through a lot. The only button that was clasped was his top one. He was bare underneath. He sported a blue tie that was tucked underneath the first button, it had a few strawberries down the middle. Another cute one if you had anything to say about it. His eyes were a beautiful purpura similar to Narancia’s He had a light skin tone.
“Buongiorno.” He smiled. The last man was the most flamboyant. He had golden blond hair that was pulled back into a braid that looped at the bottom. He had three distinct large looped curs that sat atop his forehead. He wore a two-piece pink suit with varied small designs on it. The back end of his suit had a checkered pattern on it. There was a large heart shaped opening in the chest of what he wore. He had three lady bug broaches around the border of it. Young as well. Moderate stature, Cute of course. Amazing turquoise eyes. Also, light skinned.
Bruno’s attire was also elaborate. You supposed you hadn’t actually paid too much attention beforehand. He wore a white two-piece suit with spoon shaped black emblems all over it. Golden zippers adorned his shoulders and biceps. He also had an opening in the chest area, larger than Giorno’s it was clear to see that he had an intricate black tattoo underneath that started at his chest. You couldn’t place the pattern. He had soft light skin as well, matching his blue eyes like a dream.
Jesus. Talk about putting on a fashion show without a runway. You just wished you had a sense like that. Impressive attire…Bruno breathed in and out, irritated.
“Maybe you want to tell her your names as well…?” He told them, shaking his head in disappointment. He was definitely the parent here. They all told you their names then, introducing themselves in different manners.
Guido Mista.
Narancia Ghirga,
Pannacotta Fugo,
Leone Abbachio.
Giorno Giovana.
And of course Bruno Bucciarati.
Now that that was over with you could relax a little more. Knowing their names was comforting. Knowing that they were Bruno’s friends made it all the better.
“So, these are your friends?” You asked, of course knowing that that was the case.
Bruno looked back at you. Soon Fugo spoke up.
“Does she even know, Bucciarati?” He asked. Of course, you knew not of what he was referring to. You lifted your brows, looking to Bruno. Know what?
“Know what?” You asked, voice unsure. Bruno sighed and looked to you. He had to tell you.
“We are Passione. Part of the Italian Mafia.” He did not admit this lightly. You were silent. The mafia? This wasn’t…you thought Bruno was different. Not some criminal. Your lips parted as you wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything.
“(Y/N), Listen-.’ He wanted to explain but you stood up.
“I think I should go now. I-I can take care of myself.” You began to walk towards the door, but you turned around to look at Bruno one more time. That’s when you saw it. You saw it in the corner.
It was terrifying. Your eyes widened. No…what the hell was that? You couldn’t quite describe it. It was humanoid and looked…like metal or iron…coated in rust. Chains wrapped around it as if it were mummified, some hung off of it. Its eyes were black. It had no mouth.
You screamed bloody murder, falling back and onto the carpet. The others looked at you. What the hell?
“(Y/N)?” Bruno was scared for you at this point. You pointed to the corner of the room.
“Th-That thing!”
You began to shake. When they saw it, their mouths fell open. They knew exactly what they were looking at.
It was your stand.
They all looked at each other, nearly as shocked as you. Giorno spoke.
Bucciarati you said she-.” He was interrupted.
“I know what this is…” He let out a long breath. Bruno stood so that he could walk over to you, kneeling.
“It’s alright, (Y/N). It’s alright.” He reassured you. His voice did in fact calm you, despite what you had just found out about him. You swallowed.
“W-What the fuck is that?” You nearly yelled. You began to breath heavily.
“It’s a stand.” Giorno spoke. You looked at him.
“A what now?” You asked, Shaking.
“A manifestation of your soul.” He was going to explain, but he knew you wouldn’t listen until you calmed down. He looked at the others.
“Should we show her?” They all had looks of uncertainty on their faces. Narancia spoke.
“Me first.” He stepped forward before calling out.
“Aerosmith!”
And out of the blue you saw a miniature fighter plane floating next him. It glowed. You brought your hands up to rub your eyes. You were speechless at this point. Then Mista stepped forward, pulling out a pistol.
“Go, Sex Pistols!”
And then you saw 6 little creatures appear on top of his gun. They looked like some sort of projectiles. They began to speak in high pitched voices.
“Yeehaw! Who’s that?” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. This was a dream! It was to weird! No way in hell! When you opened them back up, everything was as it was before you closed your eyes. This was no dream. Fugo was to go next, but he shook his head.
“I shouldn’t. My stand isn’t safe to be around. You are all aware of that.”
He was serious. Everyone nodded, so you did too, a bit disappointed. Abbachio stepped forward closing the silence after Fugo spoke
“Moody Blues!”
His stand appeared, humanoid as well. It was a tall slick lavender-purple figure that was sort of holographic. It had what looked like a countdown timer on its head. You blinked quickly. Then it was Giorno’s turn.
“Gold experience!”
And what you saw was indeed gold and definitely an experience. This one was humanoids like the others, slim, gold as it’s name describes. It had some sort of what looked like a crown for a head piece. Then it was Bruno’s turn.
“Sticky Fingers!”
And his stand appeared. It was white and blue with silver spikes on it’s face and 3 golden zippers across its body.
You were frozen. You had no idea what to think. How to feel. You looked down at the carpet. Your chest rose and fell heavily. It hurt like hell.
“(Y/N).” Bruno spoke your name, but you wouldn’t look. You soon felt a hand on the side of your face. Bruno gently turned your face towards him.
“I know it’s scary, Cara, but you need to accept it. Everything will be okay.” You bit your lower lip. There was no use in feeling the way you were. Acting in this manner. If this was how it was going to be, you had to suck it up. Though you did feel your eyes begin to sting a bit. You felt tears were coming, but you blinked them away. You refused to cry. You would be strong.
“So-So what now?” You looked at Bruno before looking at your stand. It was still terrifying to look at. It looked almost like a movie monster. Why did it have to look like that…and not cool like moody blues? Totally unfair…
Not to mention…a manifestation of your soul? Is that what your should looked like? That was unfortunate. You managed to start composing yourself. Bruno stood and held out his hand. You took it without hesitation.
“These things have names, yes?” You asked, looking to the others. Mista spoke.
“Yup, whatever you wanna name it. Go for it. Make sure it’s something cool though. Like mine.”
His little bullets cheered.
“Yeah, Like us!”
You laughed at the both of their enthusiasm and put a finger to you chin. Chains…Sex Pistols…Chains…You knew exactly what you wanted your stands name to be.
“I got it.”
The other’s looked at you in anticipation. Narancia spoke excitedly.
“Spit it out, Amica!” He wanted to know. You put your hands on your hips. You were in fact declaring something,
“Alice in Chains.”
Mista and Narancia high fived each other. You couldn’t help but notice the others smile.
“A good choice.”
You were incredibly surprised to hear from Abbachio.
“I like it.”
Fugo spoke next.
“Perfecto,”
Giorno joined in. It was time for Bruno’s reply.
“You seem to be a natural.”
His smile was wide. He was proud of you.
“Now…” He walked in front of the others so they could all get a good like at him. He stood before everyone.
“You’re going to need some help with your new ability.” He told you.
“I encourage you to choose a partner.”
The others looked surprised at first, but then became intrigued,
“Me me!” Narancia raised his hand. He was totally up for it.
“Forget him, me and pistols got your back.” Mista was sure of himself.
“I’ve got the most experience.” Abbachio spoke, which you didn’t expect. He shrugged, a coy smile on his face.
“I’ll teach you, but I can’t guarantee you’ll see my stand.” He told you matter-factly. You couldn’t deny his small smile. This all seemed to be a competition now.
“I think it’s arguable that I have the most powerful stand, Amica.” Giorno’s arms were crossed and eyes were closed as he spoke. He knew him and his stand were the perfect team. He looked to you, the corner of his upper lip was curled up into a smile.
“And if it suits you. Feel free to choose me.” Bruno had a hand on his hip.
It was going to be hard, but you had to choose.
Who would you pick?
(Welcome, Welcome to my ‘Choose your own adventure’! Over time new chapters will come out based on the choices you make. I will start by publishing the most popular choices! The story can go in different directions! Comment.reply or send an ask on your thoughts!)
#passione#la famiglia#golden wind#Vento Aureo#guido mista#narancia ghirga#leone abbacchio#pannacotta fugo#Giorno Giovanna#bruno bucciarati#jojos bizarre adventure#guido mista x reader#narancia x reader#leone abbachio x reader#panaccotta gugo x reader#giorno x reader#bruno buccerati x reader
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Welcome My Dear Friend
Warning: N/a
A/n: You know me, I got to write a novel before you can get to the great stuff. I think I keep getting the movie and books mixed up. If I did, sorry. But just enjoy it lol, that's all that matters, right?
Tags: @pillowjj @summeerrr
***
Y/n POV:
I'm walking through the streets of Ontario, Vanity on one side and her "boyfriend" of the month on the other. Ever since the loss of Leo, she's been happily carrying out her dream of living her college experience that she never got to act out. Comes to find out, Leo wasn't her mate; he was her stalker from when they were human. Long story short, they went to college together in the '70s, and he was obsessed with her. One night, lurking outside of her dorm, he was attacked by, you guessed it, a vampire. So, like the trifling ass he was, he attacked her and basically held her hostage all this time. Abusive and manipulative—she wanted a way out. She wasn't expecting wolves to be real, but if she could thank them without getting killed, she would.
Anyway, it has been a little over six months or so since that faithful night in La Push, where I was never seen again. I never got to say goodbye to my family and friends, and when I found out that there was a search for me going on, it was hard to watch. My family and friends posting photos on social media, talking to the police, and holding a conference, all of it broke my heart. We head back to our hotel room thanks to David—wait, was it David? Yeah, I'm going to say David—who graciously paid for two. Unfortunately, no matter how far apart our rooms are, I can still hear them. Fucking vampire hearing. Oh, if you hadn't figured it out, Vanity changed me. I honestly don't really know if I am mad or not. On the one hand, I am pissed; I'd rather be dead than be the walking dead, feeding off people—I prefer the criminals if I'm honest. But I'd rather not have my body lost in a ditch somewhere or parts of it in a shark's mouth.
Regardless, I really want to go back home, but I don't want to leave Vanity. If I had to describe her, I'd say she is like Harley Quinn. Rambunctious, emotional, kind of stupid but smart, party animal, and promiscuous. All of which attracts her victims. Whereas, there's me, the complete opposite of her—I ground her and keep her from being irrational, and she makes sure I "live a little" since I try not to go on a killing spree and I'd prefer to not have my first time with some random guy who I might accidentally kill. Again, I'd prefer to go after the major criminals, male or female, and not the innocent bystanders. I may or may not do active searching in the area for criminal records. I leave the petty crime alone; it's the others with no sense of morality that I play with. A few hours later, Vanity knocks on my door and tells me that we're heading out.
"Where’s David?” I said, swinging my bag over my shoulder and looking around. She gave me a look and rolled her eyes but smiles.
“His name is Kyle. I assume my next victim will be named David?” She looks up at me and smiles. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I have this weird ability to know things. I don’t know how I know it, but I just know it, you know? Almost like an enhanced intuition. Not like a psychic, but I just��know what’s next. Harley Quinn Jr. over here is basically a succubus—natural raw talent to draw men in. I mean, yes, vampires can do that naturally, but she could wear a mask, and her voice calls them in.
“I guess we’ll see in the next coming days. Or weeks,” I say, looking ahead leaving the hotel. “So, I can assume that we’re leaving Kyle back at the hotel and heading somewhere? Outside of Canada?”
“Yes, my dear, you are absolutely correct. How about South America? I’ve never been outside of the U.S. That bastard never wanted to. It was ‘unnecessary’ and ‘we have everything we need here,’ pathetic ass.” she says, rolling her eyes at the thought of him. I laugh and change our course location.
“How about Italy instead?” I say, getting a better feeling. She stops and looks at me and smiles.
“Oh! Even better! But we need to be careful.” She said in seriousness.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with Italy?”
“Well, the Volturi is there. Remember how I was telling you about these vampire police/mafia? Well, that’s them. They live in Volterra. I think we can visit, but staying there longer than a week, well really 3 days, may raise a red flag.” Vanity said.
“So, visiting the castle/church is basically out of the question?”
“Yes. They stay there, and the better we lay low, the more fun we can have. Why did you say Italy anyway?” she looked up at me with curiosity. We step up to an ATM machine and take out enough money from Dav-Kyles card and then discard it somewhere where it won’t be found.
“Do we really need to know that answer?” I said, looking at her with a smile. She shakes her head and laughs as we continue onward towards the bus station.
“You need to eat before we stay near anyone.” She tells me. I nod my head and search out for my next meal. I listen to my intuition and walk ahead of us. Weaving around people, turning down different streets until I come upon a high-class looking neighborhood. I calmly walk down the street listening for my next direction.
“Take a left on 5th, then right on the first alleyway. They’ll come,” my inner self said. I follow as instructed and wait. Vanity stopped questioning the things I know and follows along with it. It never led us in a bad situation, and she learned I wouldn’t put us in one. Believe it or not, she’s not evil, misguided maybe, but not bad. Speaking of being evil or not. Here comes our meal.
It was a man, a woman, and a child around six. I looked at Vanity, and she looked back at me. We nodded our heads and waited for the perfect moment. The man, “5’8” dirty blond hair, lanky, with tattoos across his body, was walking in front of the woman and child. The woman—who was “5’3”, long brunette hair with pale skin—was walking together with a little boy with black curly hair, big wide eyes, and dimples. They didn’t see us in the corner of the alley watching them. The man turned around, and before he could do anything, Vanity was behind him. The look on the woman’s face was in a state of shock. Vanity grabbed him by his collar and tossed him near the garbage bin. I looked at the woman, then at the boy, and walked towards her while Vanity was having her meal. I could hear a struggle, and I blocked the little boy's sight.
“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” I smiled. We walked back in the direction they came from, finding a frantic mother looking for him. We retrieved the little boy to her and walked back to where her lover (I assume) would be dead at. As we rounded the corner to the alley, I shoved her and made sure she saw my face before I ended her life. Like the life she and her trash partner in crime almost took. Discarding the body and gaining enough fill to complete the bus ride, we head back and proceed to Italy.
~~~
“Remind me to never get on a plane again,” I told Vanity as she skips through the terminal.
“Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad.” She said sarcastically.
“I’m going to ignore that comment. Now that we’re here, you can lead the way.” She smiles and proceeds to give me the rundown of what we need to do and where we need to go. It didn’t take long to find willing victims to help us. After going to the bathroom to switch out our contacts, we sat at the airport's bar and waited. It wasn’t long afterward that two men walk up to us and proceed to have a conversation.
“My friend and I are stuck here until we can get a hotel room. Somehow, our reservation didn’t go through, and so now we’re stuck. You wouldn’t by happen to know any hotels nearby that aren’t too expensive, would you?” Vanity said, laying it hard on Thing 1 while I played the shy and sad yet worried friend to Thing 2.
“Of course, we do. How about you guys come back to ours, and we can help you get settled in. We’re here on business, and we could use some company while here.” Thing 1 said. We smiled as if we were so grateful and played the willing idiots they thought we were. We left the bar and headed towards their car and to the hotel. We checked in and proceeded to the room. Vanity and I shared a look at one another and smiled. We weren’t going to kill them; we just needed to use them. Then what Vanity does next is entirely up to her. Over the next couple of days, we convinced Thing 1 and Thing 2 to buy us separate rooms but proceeded to see them. It was currently eleven at night, and Vanity and I decided to head towards Volterra. We checked out and went on foot, going unnoticed to others around. Once we hit some wooded areas, we set sail. About an hour later, I was given instructions.
“Turn left, go up a hill, sharp right, then wait.” I do as instructed, and Vanity follows. She asked what I was doing, and I just pointed to my head. After coming to the location, we wait.
“I know there’s a reason, but is there a reason as to why we’re here?” I look at her and shrug my shoulders. Not long afterward, we hear footsteps running towards us.
“Don’t be afraid.” I hear, and Vanity’s face pops in my head. I grab her hand and give her a smile to ease her worry. I let go of her hand as we come upon four figures. Not even 30 seconds later, I hear
“Hot damn.” I look at Vanity and watch her look at the bigger guy of the group. He smiles, and she smiles back at him. I hid my smile behind my hand and try not to laugh out loud. The big boy goes around the blonde little girl in front of him and steps up to her.
“Hello there, I’m Felix. What might your name be mia bella” he says, looking down at her. ‘Ol boy is huge, and I mean Vanity has to lift her head all the way up to look at him. She smiles at him and raises her hand towards him to shake.
“The names Vanity handsome.” She says, giving her signature smile that brings men weak to the knees. They smile at one another, and the little blonde girl announces herself.
“Felix, let's go. Aro will be expecting us.” And they runoff. Felix rolls his eyes and puts out an arm for Vanity to grab and acknowledges me to follow. We make it to the castle, and we are directed to the three kings Vanity has told me about. And dear God, are they some ugly ass people. Aren't Vampires supposed to be pretty?
Long story short, Vanity found her mate and is basically forced to stay here. I, on the other hand, have no need or want to stay here. Aro can read people's minds by touching them (ew) and picking up on my wanting to leave. No amount of coercing will get me to stay. Vanity understood, but I did promise to stay for a while. Just long enough to know that If I leave, I know Vanity would be safe. But by the time I chose to leave, I was instructed not to.
“You’re staying!” she said/asked me, jumping on my couch while Felix stood in the doorway. I smiled and shook my head.
“No, but I will stay for a little while longer,” I said, tapping on my timple. She nodded her head and hugged me. “Plus, I’m still iffy about Felix here. How do I know you won't hurt her?” I said, half-joking half-serious. But with a smile. He smiled back, understanding the underline warning in my tone.
“I promise you, I would kill myself before I hurt a hair on her head.” I nodded my head.
“Remember, I’ll know if something is wrong...” I said, looking at him.
“And that’s why I love you!” Vanity said, hugging my neck. “Did I ever thank you for choosing Italy as our destination?” I laughed and nodded my head.
“Only about a thousand times.” We continued to talk until Demitri came to let us know it was almost mealtime. We left and went to the main room. Felix and Vanity joined them as I spoke to the receptionist. All of a sudden, I notice three people leaving. A human girl and two vampires I recognized from Forks.
“Bella?” they stopped and looked at me. Her eyes widen as she recognized who I was.
“Y/n?! Wha-what, what happened to you?!” before I could respond, Vanity and Felix come back out, hearing the conversation.
“Well, I changed.” I shrug my shoulders. Alice and Edward are just as surprised, and Vanity breaks the awkwardness.
“Hi! I’m Vanity. Who are you guys?” she asked sweetly. I respond to her.
“This is Alice and Edward Cullen, and the human girl is Bella. We all lived in the same area as each other.” She nodded her head. She looked back at me and gave me a sad smile. We realized this is why I didn't leave when I necessarily wanted to.
“Come on. You can tell us everything on the way.” Alice said sweetly. I hugged the shit out of Vanity, and she gave them a warning as I gave Felix earlier. We grabbed some robes and headed back towards Forks. I have a lot of explaining to do.
~~~
Once we landed, I texted Vanity and talked to Alice, Bella, and Edward. I told them I will explain everything when we get to their house. Within an hour of talking to them, I figured Edward and Alice out quickly.
“Be careful of your thoughts and actions...” was the first thought. “He’s a Mindreader” was the second. And “She’s a Psychic” was the third. Edward was slightly standoffish from me knowing, but Alice was ecstatic. It was amusing. She and Vanity would be great friends, trouble makers, but best friends. When we pull up to their house, I notice the rest of the family waiting outside. To say that they were shocked, seeing me is a stretch. The same questions Bella had in Volterra was written on all of their faces. So we proceeded inside to where I explained what happened after my disappearance a few months ago.
“So, I guess I should start from the beginning...” and I proceeded to tell them what happened that night with Vanity, Leo, and the three wolves that came after us. How Vanity decided to throw me into the water and swim off with me. How I basically drowned, and she changed me while underwater. Biting every central artery area and swimming off with me. Now, how did I survive? No idea. It was painful. The transformation and the added pain of not breathing were so frightening that I passed out. We made it to land not too far from the cliff, and she ran towards Canada, unknowing to the wolves. There is where we stayed for the next few months, back and forth from Canada to Alaska and back. I explained what happened and why we were in Italy and how I made a full circle in under a year. Before anyone could ask a question, Edward called out,
“Jakes here.” I looked at him in shock. “You have to hide,” Edward said to me. I looked at him as if he lost his mind.
“What? Why? I won't hurt him. Jakes, my friend.” I said defensively. Believe it or not, I gained significant control over my thirst thanks to my ability. Learning to listen to it helped me better than expected. It took a while to trust it completely, but I’ve learned to do so.
“Y/n. Jake isn't the same Jake as before. He’s...changed.” Bella said. Oh no... the last time I heard that I lost my best friend. I shook my head.
“No...don't say that. Jake wouldn't know as long as I have my contacts in.” Before anyone could say anything, there was Jake, outside looking nothing how the Jake I knew before looked. He was outside asking for Bella to make sure she isn't a “leech.” What the fuck? I went outside to see what the hell was going on, and that’s when Jake saw me. I looked at him and saw why they said he was different. He changed, just like Jared did.
“Y/n! Is that...is that you!?” Jake yelled/whispered, looking at me. I smiled a wave awkwardly.
“Hey, Jake.” He looked in disbelief.
“Hey, Jake? Hey Jake?! You disappear for six months and come back as, as, THIS! And all you can say is HEY!!!” I flinch, taking a step back. “Did that girl do this to you?” I looked at him, confused.
“How did you know about that?” I asked. He shook his head and backed away. A few seconds later, he shifted...into a fucking wolf. Now it clicked together with why Jared went from friendly to hostile. Jake ran off into the woods and howled.
“Jake is going to tell Sam. Prepare to meet up with them,” Edward said. Which Rosalie responded with an eye roll and a sarcastic “Great.” Something tells me that things are about to get real interesting.
Part 1: Hello My Dear Friend
Part 2: Goodbye My Dear Friend
Part 3: Welcome My Dear Friend
Part 4: Why My Dear Friend
Part 5: End My Dear Friend
Request Open! (Go to the description bar on my page to put one in)
#twilight#twilightsaga#twilightwolfpack#breakingdawnparttwo#breaking dawn#breakingdawn#BreakingDawnPart1#breakingdawnpartone#BreakingDawnPart2#eclipse#new moon#newmoon#embry call#embrycall#embry call x reader#embry-call-x-reader#jared cameron#jaredcameron#Bella Swan#bella cullen#bellaswan#bellacullen#edward cullen#edwardcullen
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Smitten Kitten [1]
one | two | three | four | finale
-> Pairing: Felix x Female!Reader | Hybrid!AU (mostly platonic idk)
-> Warnings: Cursing, Hybrids get the short end of the stick, mentions of Felix having a bad past
-> Genre: Crack, Eventual Fluff, Eventually a bit of angst
-> Word Count: 1.8k
-> Summary: You never wanted to be involved with hybrids. They were risky and had too many rules for you. But what will you do when a little black and white cat that you take in turns out to be the very thing you steered clear of?
-> A/N: Hi everyone! As you can tell, I’m trying some new things with the blog. I’ve got a lot of ideas and new things coming up, and this will probably have a part two (or three, if I go overboard lol!), so enjoy!
Winter where you lived was always harsh. The snow and wind whipped around daily, freezing everything in sight, including you.
Luckily for you, you were stuck inside of your job for another thirty minutes, watching the winter rage on outside. Business had been slow in the pet shop and you barely had any customers, so you sat at the front desk and watched Netflix, occasionally checking on the fish and little hamsters that lived in the store. You were just finishing popping popcorn using the microwave in the back room when the doorbell rang, signaling a customer.
You walked back out and smiled, seeing your friends Ashe and Sylvain. “Hey, boys!”
Ashe grinned back, his teeth chattering. “Hi!”
Sylvain only pulled his coat tighter around him and hid himself in his hat, smiling at you. He’d always been a little grumpy coming to the pet shop. “Ashe says I need a new leash.”
“Only because you broke the last one!” The other boy exclaimed, “You know you have to wear one eventually. You can’t hide every day once it warms up.”
Ashe was right, unfortunately. As a Border Collie Hybrid, Sylvain was legally Ashe’s pet. Of course, all of your friends who have hybrids don’t see them that way, but many do. Hybrids were often treated as nothing but animals, despite them literally being human with cool ears and a tail. Laws required them to walk around with their owners on a leash and punishments were rather severe if the rules weren’t followed.
You didn’t agree with how hybrids were seen one bit. Because of this, you were torn on what to do. Should you continue to stay uninvolved in hybrid care and only focus on regular pets, or should you help one and face the consequences when you inevitably don’t follow the rules? You would be heavily fined and your hybrid would be put in a shelter. The one in your town was literally named “Madame’s Hybrid Correctional Facility” and if that didn’t spell trouble, you didn’t know what did.
Hybrid shelters were their own form of Hell. Hybrids were often whipped into shape to become the perfect obedient pet for their owner. Luckily for Sylvain, Ashe found him before he was sent off to a shelter and he’s been living in his own little Heaven in Ashe’s apartment.
You grinned and took them to the aisle with leashes, letting Sylvain pick out his own. You rang them up and bagged the leash, knowing that he wouldn’t dare wear it in public. Not when the cold winter allowed him to hide his tail with a coat and his ears with a warm hat.
Waving goodbye to your two friends as they left, you finished your popcorn and began closing up the store for the night.
------
You shivered in the cold, wrapping your jacket tighter around you as you approached your apartment building. As you walked past a narrow alleyway, you heard a rustling noise. You paused, looking into the darkness.
It rustled again.
Against your better judgement, you turned on your phone’s flashlight and walked in, following the noise until it led you to a large garbage bin. You slowly peeked inside, but reeled back as a hiss echoed through the metal bin. You looked in once more.
Inside was a black and white cat, curled around itself in a corner. Its ears were back and its tail bushed up, trying to scare you away. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the packet of treats for Sylvain. You were sure he wouldn’t mind if you gave the kitty a treat or two.
Grabbing a treat and your hand out, you cooed towards the cat. “Come here, baby. It’s okay.”
The cat only stared at you.
You set the treat down in the bin, still calling for him. Soon, the cat unsurely stepped towards you, sniffing the treat before eating it. He retreated back into the corner.
You hoisted yourself up and climbed into the trash can. How humiliating if anyone saw.
The cat stared at you as you picked out another treat, this time keeping it in your hand. Once again, he stalked towards you, sniffing your hand instead of the treat. He took it and sat down, staring at you. He was still very cautious.
The poor kitty looked like he was starving. You couldn’t just leave him here, but you doubted he would let you take him home. Home was only a few feet away, though…
Fuck it.
You carefully picked him up and opened your coat, holding him inside to keep him warm. He hissed from the inside, but didn’t claw you. Just tried to bite your shirt a little.
“It’s okay,” You reassured him through chattering teeth, “You’re gonna have a home soon.”
———
“I don’t know what to do, Ashe!” You groaned and leaned against the kitchen table. “Mittens is just hiding under my couch. He’s hissing and everything when I get close. I don’t even have pet food.”
“Mittens? You decided on Mittens? What a stupid name. Anyhow, how do you know he’ll even eat pet food?” Ashe questioned over the phone. “Maybe he’s a hybrid.”
You shook your head. “If he was, then why would he still be a cat? He could’ve easily turned human and found a living.”
“Y/N, you know how people are with hybrids. If they knew, he’d probably be declined help. Hybrids have to have owners. You work at a pet store, shouldn’t you know this?”
“I work at a pet store for regular animals,” You replied, “Mittens isn’t acting like a regular cat. His eyes are just… too strange. They’re red. Cats don’t usually have red eyes.”
“He’s gotta be a hybrid. He may not be able to shift back and forth since he’s under a lot of stress. Sylvain wasn’t able to when I first got him. Try to get him to relax. Sylvie and I will be over tomorrow.”
With that, Ashe hung up. You rolled your eyes. Mittens? A hybrid? He’s gotta be a cat. But… the way he looks at you and seems to understand everything you’re saying is a little weird.
You walked to your refrigerator and opened it up, pulling out some lunch meat. You walked next to the couch and set it down, waiting for the cat to smell it.
Slowly, Mittens’s nose peeked out from under the couch and his white paw smacked the meat, bringing it under the couch. You heard him chewing and sighed in relief. At least he was eating.
You sat down on the couch and grabbed your TV
remote, turning on Netflix to a movie. As it started, you pulled a blanket over you and curled up.
You were completely immersed in the movie, so you didn’t notice when Mittens slowly crawled out from under the couch and looked up at you, as if he was analyzing you. He jumped up on the couch and curled up on the edge of your blanket.
He laid and seemed to watch the movie with you. You turned to him and reached out a hand. He sniffed it, but hissed again when you tried to pet him. Baby steps, you supposed.
Mittens continued to lay on the other end of the sofa as the movie finished, laying his head down and falling asleep. You looked over at him and sighed.
“Goodnight.” You whispered, standing up and heading to bed yourself.
------
You awoke to a knock on your door. Shivering, you stepped onto the cold floor and wrapped a blanket around you, heading to the front door. You knew Ashe and Sylvain were at the door and you had told them multiple times to just come in, but Ashe refused, saying it was ‘impolite’.
As you rounded the corner into the living room, you saw a large mass on your couch. You cocked your head and tiptoed closer. Your heart jumped as the mass moved, shifting on the couch and revealing itself to be a man laying where Mittens had fallen asleep.
When he shifted, you got a full view of him sleeping peacefully on your blanket. Not knowing what else to do, you did what any sane person would. You screamed.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
The naked man on your couch stirred, rubbing his eyes. “Stop fucking yelling!”
“Who are you?” You pressed against the wall, trying to stay away from the stranger. He opened his eyes fully to look at you and you gasped, recognizing the crimson hue. “Mittens?”
“Do not call me that. Mittens is degrading and the worst name I’ve ever heard.” He sneered. “My name is Felix Fraldarius and I expect you to call me as such.”
“You- you’re a hybrid.” You couldn’t believe Ashe was right.
Speaking of Ashe, he had used his spare key and quickly opened your door after hearing your scream. He looked in between you and Felix, smirking. “So, what was that about him being a ‘normal cat’?”
You glared at him as he and Sylvain walked further inside and closed the door. Felix stood up and made his way to your fridge, pulling out the pack of turkey inside and eating a piece.
“Do you have any shame?” You scoffed at the man.
He quirked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Thanks for helping me, I guess, but I don’t see why I need to be ashamed.”
Sylvain snorted, his tail wagging a bit. “Your clothes, man. Where are they? Not that I’m complaining or anything-”
Felix’s ears flattened and he began to snarl a bit at the dog hybrid. “Don’t flirt with me.” He turned to you, “Why do I need clothes? I never had to wear them before…”
“Listen,” You finally made eye contact with him, your face still red, “I don’t know what your previous owners or whatever made you do, but you’re more person than cat in this household. You need clothes. We’ll go shopping after work, but for now, Ashe, can you get him some of Sylvain’s things? They may fit.”
As Ashe nodded and walked to his apartment with Sylvain, you set to work on making breakfast for the four of you. You pulled out eggs and bacon, beginning to cook them before turning to Felix, who had seated himself at the table and was fiddling with the white tip of his tail.
You leaned against the counter. “So… how did you end up in a garbage can?”
He tensed a bit. “That’s none of your business. Just, don’t send me to a shelter. They don’t like me there.”
“Why not?” You pressed.
“Everyone returns me because I’m ‘too hostile’. They try to train me or whatever to make me nicer and I don’t feel like dealing with that shit again.”
Nodding, you turned back to the breakfast. “You won’t have to worry about that. You’re not a pet here. You’re a person. I’ll still have to go in and adopt you, but it’ll be okay. You won’t have to go through any of that ever again.”
Felix continued to stare at the table, trying to fight the small upturn of his lips. “Yeah…”
#fire emblem#fire emblem three houses#fire emblem x reader#fire emblem imagines#fire emblem three houses x reader#fire emblem three houses imagines#x reader#felix#felix fraldarius imagines#felix fraldarius#felix fraldarius x reader#felix x reader#felix imagines#hybrid au#hybrid#alternate universe#felix hugo fraldarius x reader#felix hugo fraldarius
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Might Not Make it Home
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32632597/chapters/80949649
North Imaria has been under the merciless rule of the crown for over two decades and it seems the people have finally had enough. Unrest stirs among even the tiniest towns in the frozen mountains. Main streets grow silent as the noble guard rallies. There's enough fuel for the revolutionary fire; someone just needs to light the fuse.
Vizara is a bard, and a damn good one at that. She's played at taverns all across the north, seen the fight grow in her people. Her whole life has been for this. All the sleeping around, the ale and food and coin-all of it is secondary (not that she doesn't enjoy it). She's going to rouse her people into glorious rebellion against the unjust monarchy, and she's going to win. She just doesn't know how difficult it is going to be.
___________________
A young woman in vibrant violet clothes strummed on her lute, tapping her toe in time to the beat of the lively tavern tune. She directed a wink at a bargoer close to her before leaping up onto his table. Carefully avoiding the empty plates, her purple slippers stomped down on the wood with a soft, but audible thump. She sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. The song, “The Pickpocket's Lover”, was well known here, and soon the tavern patrons were singing and clapping along with the music. The woman weaved gracefully between the tables, spinning and dancing as the tune picked up speed. The whip-quick braid in her hair followed her eagerly, drawing curves in the air behind her head when she whirled around to play for the crowd behind her. Cheeks flushed dark with exertion and sweat dripping down her brow, she drew the song to its end. At the far side of the room, she struck the final chord, took a beer from one of the waitresses, and downed half of it in one gulp. The crowd at the tavern, now some forty or fifty people, cheered. The woman raised her mug in the air triumphantly.
"Here's to th' North!" she cried, to even more applause, and then made as if to throw the mug to the ground. The waitress she'd taken the beer from quickly stilled her hand, as if she was expecting it. If she said anything to the bard, nobody could hear it for all the noise. The bard shrugged and took another swig. "'right y'all, I just gotta wet my throat a moment, then I'll be right back with ya." She fired another wink into the crowd as she made towards the kitchen, and if she kicked her lute case (already harboring quite a bit of coin) a little further towards the crowd, none of them seemed to care.
The woman slipped through the door to the kitchen, soon followed by the waitress. At the last glimpse of her violet tunic and teal beads, the crowd turned back to their food and drink. The kitchen door swung shut, and that was the last any of them saw of the bard that night.
~~~~~
Past that kitchen door, the bard nabbed a piece of fresh bread from the cook's hands, to an indignant "hey!" with no real malice behind it. She turned to the waitress with the smile of one who knows she has done something quite wrong, but who does not care. Appropriately, the waitress had a rather unimpressed expression across her face.
"Good show, eh?" The bard said through a mouthful of warm bread. The waitress huffed.
"Quite." The bard went on eating, as if oblivious to the other woman's annoyance.
"I'm thinking about addin’ a few more new songs to my repertoire." she said, "I've been writin’ some pretty songs as of late. 'Specially the ones about the coming revolution." She eyed the waitress at the last sentence with a hint of humor in her voice.
"Give me that!" The waitress ripped the hunk of bread from the bard's hands to another surprised "hey!" from the offended party. "You need to keep quiet about that revolution of yours. The only reason anyone here tolerates your ridiculous ideas is that you bring in good business. Step too far out of line, and we'll all get in more trouble than any of us can deal with."
"The crowd seemed to like me," the bard supplied. "It's strange, how the northerners seem to like the North. Can I please have my bread back?"
"Take this seriously! I know you couldn't care less about the rest of us, but if you get arrested, you won't get any work either!"
"I ain't planning on gettin' arrested, my friend. I'm only planning on gettin' the damn army outta here. And you can plan on gettin' business so long as there's any folk left here. Nobody's gonna care that I think the guard should get fucked. Hell, that's what they all think too."
"I hate you," the waitress growled, wild-eyed.
"Should'a said that 'fore you slept with me," the bard retorted, plucking her bread back from the waitress and promptly turning to walk further into the kitchen.
"Also, stop trying to smash my damned mugs!" the waitress yelled before slamming open the kitchen door open and walking back out into the tavern.
"I think you sang real well t'night, Vizara." the cook put in after a moment.
"Thank you!" Vizara, the bard, answered. "I can always count on you t' give a girl the credit she deserves."
The cook sighed deeply. "I do think you should cut back on the whole--well--the things that Melya was talkin’ about." She leaned over to inspect a simmering pot of stew in lieu of meeting the gaze of the bard.
It was a while before Vizara answered her. "I know. I don't want t' hurt y'all's business, really. I'm just damn tired of the damn monarchy and their damned games. So is everybody else. All they need is a push, and then we can get rid of the guard. Don't you wanna be free of kings? I sure as hell do.
Plus, I'm only here a handful'a times a year. I surely can't bring any real suspicion down here. Hell, Melya was just about the only waitress I recognized when I got here. Not that y'all have many other waitresses."
"Sometimes I think you talk just to hear your own voice," the cook commented. She ladled some of the stew into a bowl and handed it to Vizara. "Take one of the cloaks on the wall by the door and head outside for a bit, ‘kay? I'll talk to Melya,"
"Don't want me 'round anymore, huh?" she joked, pulling a cloak over her thin tunic and bare shoulders. "Really, you're the best, Eviah. The only one around here with any manners,"
Eviah made no reply, simply shooing the bard out the door with a roll of her eyes.
The wind outside was biting cold. It was easy to forget near the fires and warm food of the tavern, but it worked its way through the fabric of the cloak in a matter of moments. Vizara huddled on one of the stairs leading down from the back door, watching for a few moments as her breath turned to mist.
"'bit like a dragon, ain't it?" she murmured to herself. "If only I had a horde of gold to go along with it."
She drew the cloak in closer. "Warm fire'd be good too." She absently cast her gaze around the small, dark alley. There was a bit of snow on the ground, but not enough to cause any trouble to pedestrians and carts, not that the carts could fit into the alley in any case. The overhanging roofs of the tavern and another nearby shop blocked most of the light from the moon, which was probably good, since nobody would've wanted to see the sundry food waste tossed back there. Vizara could hear the quiet rustling of what she presumed was a few rats digging about in the garbage, but far be it from her to take a look. She wrapped her hands around the hot bowl to bring some feeling back into her fingers, a bit numb from both the lute and the cold.
So she sat, eating her stew as the night went on and the comforting bustle of the tavern carried on behind her. After a short while, she set the empty bowl down beside her and took the lute off her back. Soft music began to drift up amongst the scuttling of the rats as she strummed the first few notes to a love song.
“Maybe I’ll play this one next,” she whispered. She leaned back against the door and hummed along to the quiet tune.
Her fingers stilled only a moment later as she heard some odd noise out in the street, past the entrance to the alleyway. The shriek of an animal (or perhaps a child? she couldn't say) echoed off the close walls.
“The hell was that?” She got to her feet, turning her head toward the noise. Again, the same shriek. Certainly the sound of a person now.
Vizara fumbled in the waistband of her pants for a small knife, not much more than a toothpick. She dropped the cloak from her shoulders and slung her lute across her back once more.
With a deep breath, she crept out onto the street, tiny blade in hand. It was dark; few lanterns were ever out at night. The town was small, its people poor. Still, with a cursory glance, she saw the silhouettes of three or four people cast in the light of the brothel across the street. The screams hadn't stopped—they'd just gotten quieter. They'd become yelps, and then wordless protests, and now, just pained whimpering.
She could see now—as she snuck ever closer—the small body of a child held down by the much bigger guards. The blade in her hand felt insufficient, useless. She faltered, slowed almost to a stop. The guards hadn't noticed her. She was quiet and they were occupied with the protesting figure in the dirt beneath them. She could back away into the alley just as easily as she had left it, and nobody would be the wiser. The crowd awaited her back in the tavern. She was much better suited to that kind of work—the rustling up, the inspiring, not the fighting itself. But, hell, who was she if she didn’t practice what she preached? And who was getting hurt in her place if she did nothing?
The glint of silver mail in the low light caught her eye once more. The crest of the royal family glowed gold on the guards' tunics, splashed with mud and blood and violence. Another strangled cry slipped from the child's lips as he was jabbed with the butt end of a spear. She was only a few lengths away from the closest guard. A full body shiver struck Vizara's body, shaking the little knife in her hand.
She started into a run, the movement catching the attention of one of the guards. They shouted to their companions, but the warning came too late. Vizara, much shorter than the guard nearest her, jabbed her knife into his armpit, where she knew was an opening in his armor. He stumbled back with a heavy huff, and the knife was yanked from Vizara's hands. She reached for it again, her left hand up to defend herself from the other two guards. Her fingers brushed the handle, but she couldn't get a good grip on it—she'd sunk the whole blade into his arm. Plus, he and his two companions were getting his wits about him once more. He was going for his spear amongst a slew of curses. It didn't come to that. Vizara heard a monstrous Crack! and then a moment later, her left arm flared up in pain. She fully lost hold of the knife. It didn't matter anymore. Her arm—what happened to her arm? She looked up to the flash of silver as she was struck in the chest with the blunt end of a spear.
She went down with a heavy huff. Her arm throbbed and maybe she couldn’t use her fingers? And her face was in the dirt and her chest ached and she couldn’t see anything for the dark and the terror.
She looked out over her injured arm, bleary and gasping. The child—a young elf, no older than fifteen—still lay prone on the ground, one of the three guards standing above him. Vizara's vision swam as dread descended.
One of the guards kicked her over onto her back and she rolled painfully over her lute. She winced, tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed right back down, slamming her head into the dirt.
"Fuck." she sucked in a breath. "Can—can I at least move the lute? Don't want to break the lute."
The guard who'd kicked her—a woman who Vizara would find attractive in any other situation—grabbed her collar and none-too-gently yanked her into a sitting position. Another guard maneuvered the lute from her back, jostling her hurt arm and eliciting a rather embarrassing whimper from her. She gathered up her wits and forced the stars out of her eyes.
"Ah, thank you." Vizara babbled, forcing a smile. "As a good bard once said 'you can break my bones but not my banjo'."
"You fucking stabbed me!" bellowed the guard she'd stabbed, and swung the body of the lute into her head.
~~~~~~
Vizara awoke with what she at first thought was a bad hangover. She felt groggy, confused, and her head pounded—a situation she'd found herself in many a time before. She moaned in pain and closed her eyes once more, but she found no comfort in sleep, for she had neither pillow nor bed to sleep on. Instead, the surface beneath her was hard, rough, and cold.
Her eyelids were heavy, and as her conscious awareness grew, she forced them open. Bewilderment abounded for a few moments. Where the hell was she?
The room was dark and small. A barred window above her head cast a square of light on the stone floor and glinted off the edge of a tarnished metal bucket. She recognized the trappings of the room—a prison cell for sure, she’d been in more than enough to know—but it took her a few moments to recall the circumstances that had landed her here. She had been all set to perform at the bar the night before; she'd make a bit of coin, flirt with some strangers, and sleep with even more of them. Clearly, something had gone wrong. Such a waste of a good night!
She racked her brain, piecing together all that had happened after her performance: the conversation with Melya and Eviah, the cold alley, and then the sight of the guards kicking a child that had spurred her to action. A grim satisfaction came over her as she remembered stabbing one of the guards in the armpit. At least she'd done some good damage before she'd gone down. Nothing after that came back to her. She must have gotten her ass kicked pretty quick after the stabbing; the pain in her head and her arm could attest to that.
She touched her injured arm, and it didn’t hurt terribly. The ambient light described an ugly bruise. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. And her head ached, but she could deal with that. After all, it wasn’t much worse than her usual hangover. Vizara felt across her chest for any more injuries. There was a pain in her left side when she pressed down on it, but it didn't seem to be too serious. She huffed a sigh of relief and immediately winced when her chest took issue with it. All things considered, she’d gotten off pretty easy.
With a grunt, she stood up. She could make out the shape of a wooden door in the dim. There was a slit under it through which a bit of light trickled. Probably how food was delivered to the prisoners. The thought of other prisoners stuck in Vizara's mind for a second—what had happened to the child? She prayed to any god that would pay her mind that he had gotten away. Although… if there were other prisoners, maybe she could orchestrate an escape. She'd been learning to rouse the masses for years now; surely, she could incite some kind of prison riot or revolution if she had to. But where was her lute? She didn't need that to inspire crowds, but it sure helped.
"If you bastards stole my lute," she murmured to no one. "I'm gonna fuckin' lose it."
She looked around the room, but there were only stone walls and one window and a dingy chamber pot. Nothing practical to help her, and no lute in sight.
Without anything to do and no chance of getting back to sleep, Vizara spent what seemed to be an interminable amount of time pacing about the cell. She found herself shivering in the cold air, but the movement helped. If she didn't find a way to get out of here soon, she could very well be stuck in this hellhole forever. The law of the kingdom wasn't known for its charity.
The light from the small window had significantly brightened and then dimmed again by the time Vizara saw any company. She reckoned it was around sunset when there came the clamor of heavy footsteps outside her cell door. She moved to the back corner of the cell to give herself a bit of space once the guards came in; for they were coming in—the rustle of keys and the sound of voices reached her, dampened by the thick door but still clear enough. There was a soft click, and the door swung open, light from the hallway beyond cascading in. Vizara squinted at the loss of comfortable darkness.
There were three guards, dark in the doorway, just like the night before. She couldn't tell if they were all the same ones, but she vaguely recognized one of the female guards. They were dressed in the customary mail, with the sign of the monarchy across their chests. The longswords at their hip drew Vizara's eyes—she couldn't brute force her way past them, even if she had a weapon of her own.
She allowed two of the guards to approach her and none-too-gently shackle her right arm, hooking the other end of a long chain to a bar in the window. They backed away, now out of her reach, as if she posed any kind of danger to them.
"Vizara Whitecrest," the female guard started.
"Hello, yes, that's me," Vizara said, a fake smile on her lips. "It seems my reputation precedes me."
"I don't care much for pleasantries." she glowered. "I am only here to assess your account and determine an appropriate punishment."
"That's just great." Vizara sat down and put her hands in her lap. "I'm sure you know, I was rather very drunk last night, and quite out of my right mind. Now, I had no intention of attackin' anyone yesterday, but you must understand, certain things are bound to happen when one is that inebriated."
"I didn’t come here for idle chat and excuses." she said. "No proper bard drinks during her performance.”
“Now there’s your problem, sweetheart. I ain’t any kind’a proper bard.”
“You sure as hell didn’t seem drunk when you stabbed Oliver.” The woman harrumphed. “I’ve never seen a drunkard harm a trained guard, let alone one your size.”
Vizara shrugged. “’Spose I got lucky.”
“See, I don’t think you did. You knew just where to aim, and I’m damned if your aim wasn’t perfect.” She considered. “You’ve done this before.”
“I ain’t done nothin’ of the sort.” Vizara insisted, and she could only blame her pounding head when she added “Only time I’ve laid a hand on a guardsman is in bed, and he damn near begged me to hit him.”
The guard’s face screwed up in something halfway between annoyance and fury. Vizara winced, her smile falling. “I don’t mean any offense or nothin’, course! I’m just—"
Patience run out, the guard strode into her space and slammed her into the wall, cutting her off with a sharp gasp. Her left arm pinned Vizara's shoulders to the wall, her right pressing into Vizara’s wounded chest. The bard wheezed in pain, and her mask of nonchalance faded into visible distress.
“We both know you weren’t drunk, you stupid fucking half-elf.” She ground Vizara’s shoulders into the wall. “I’m not here to play games, and I don’t tolerate lies. If you’d like to keep your head, you’ll tell me everything. I want to know if you’ve attacked guardsmen before, and what I can do to make you never attack us again. I want to know about every Northerner who so much as fucking thought about going after the guard. Lie to me once more, and I will make sure you never sing again.”
"I—" Vizara pushed against the guard's adamant armor before she could think better of it. "Fucking—get off me!"
The woman moved in an instant, grasping Vizara's left hand in her armored gauntlet and pinning it against the wall. Vizara couldn’t even tell what was happening until the guard’s dagger was flashing against her throat and she was screaming into it. Her head slammed against the stone wall and she almost didn't feel it when the guard let her drop to the floor.
She took in gasping breaths as her vision returned. She clapped her hand to her neck, now pulsing with blood. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. Her throat worked painfully, as if trying to swallow back down the lost blood.
“It’s not hard,” the woman said, "all you need to do is sit there and tell the truth.” Then, to someone else, she ordered, “go make sure the windows are boarded for the storm. I can handle her.”
She knelt in front of Vizara and grasped her chin in one metal hand. The bard moaned and tried to turn away, but to no avail. She was weak and reeling from the pain.
The guard turned Vizara's face toward her own. Vizara saw the other two guards had left them, and the door to the cell was closed. She and the guard were alone now and there was no one there to save her from her suffering.
“I’m not afraid to carve out your vocal cords and let you choke on blood until I’m kind enough to let our healer seal you shut. And right now, I’m really considering it for the insolence alone.” Her voice was quiet now. Soft. Almost saccharine sweet with the way she breathed into Vizara’s ear. “You’re lucky I’m nice. This doesn’t have to get any more difficult than you've already made it."
Even bleeding her brain dizzy, Vizara wasn't fooled. She would suffer more tortures before any of these people had finished with her. Not much of anything could save her now from that. But she was hurt. And she was alone. And she was afraid. And she wanted it to be over.
"I'm don't know anyone else," Vizara rasped, tasting copper on her tongue. "I'm on my own. The tavern—they don't pay me or anythin' like that. I'm just there to make some coin and they want more business. 's that simple. 'm not from here, either. Don't know anyone here, 'cept a few folks I'm a bit familiar to. Nobody from my hometown's seen me in months. They're innocent in all this."
All of the sudden, it was very hard to breathe. There was a roaring in her ears.
"Please, I'm beggin' you. Don't hurt them," Vizara felt pinprick tears in the corners of her eyes. "Don't hurt me, neither, please. 'm just a fool of a bard. Wanted t' fight against the kingdom, someway, somehow. And I was stupid. I can’t do anythin’ all on my own. I can hardly defend myself. I ain’t a threat to anyone, ‘specially not the guard. I promise, I didn't want nobody to get hurt, 'least, nobody I cared much about. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a done that. I’m so sorry."
The cell and the woman before her became watery, submerged in her own tears. The guard straightened up and Vizara waited for a blow to fall upon her. She waited for a reply. Waited for something. Waiting for anything better than waiting.
Damn near an eternity passed between them in silence, and Vizara finally peeked out of the shelter of her arms. The guard was looking at her, but not. She had cocked her head to one side to listen to something outside of the room. Vizara listened as best she could between the heaving of her chest and the tiny gasps hiccupping from her throat. There was a roar, she thought, like a great waterfall or a stampede of animals. She heard it faint, but even as she listened it came closer as if to suffocate her in the noise. She futilely clapped her free hand to a sensitive half-elf ear. A sense of dread came over her, but also a desperate hope. If this loud, horrible noise was as powerful as it seemed, maybe it could tear her away from here. Maybe it could drag the guard away. Hell, she’d be glad if this thing killed her if it meant escaping the grasp of this merciless woman. A woman who was now standing in the middle of the cell, paying no more attention to Vizara.
Vizara removed her hand from her ear, wincing at the booming, cacophonous sound. She pushed herself to her feet, but as the ground trembled, she fell back upon the floor. She pressed her left ear to the ground and her hand to her right, and she tried to keep the blood from slipping through her fingers. She pulled her legs to her chest and huddled close into herself. The noise was now right on top of her. This is the end of the world, rang clear in Vizara's tangled thoughts.
There was a tremendous crash, and everything shook, and small stones fell on Vizara's prone form.
And after a time, the noise receded into the distance.
And it was deafeningly quiet.
Vizara's ears rang and everything that she was hurt. She curled ever closer as wracking cries filled her chest.
But at the very least, she was alive.
#my writing#ayy first time posting my writing here i think#maybe give it a try owo#its original fiction but i promise the main character doesn't suck#like i will maintain that this isnt my best work by a long shot but i still think its pretty good
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The Ian & Mickey Show
Week 9
Timestamps
3:33-4:54 - Ian wakes up hugging a pillow, presumably missing Mickey’s absent body. There’s a loud rumbling and an embarrassingly clown car-ish honking outside the house waking everybody up. It’s Mickey making a grand entrance on that sweet mint green Vespa scooter, and (very horribly and stiffly) “making out” with this unfortunate looking tiny twink named Byron (they def picked the most pretentious name possible for this interloper). Mickey is for sure putting on a big show for Ian that’s like 30% revenge, 70% pettiness. At first, you would think Mickey just paid some rando to act a part for a little while, but I guess Mickey is just conning this lil guy. Mickey grabs his ass in front of Ian, boasts about the guy’s “super tight asshole,” and casually strolls past him to get into the Gallagher house, because I guess he’s still staying there. And also, Ian’s leg is broken, but we knew that, cuz Cam. {For a better scene, keep the video rolling past the 4:54 mark and ogle Jeremy Allen White naked in the shower. It was his turn this week I guess. You’re safe, Cam.}
6:37-8:20 - Ian eats breakfast with Liam & Carl, and they discuss Mickey’s being off with the other dude, and it’s clear that Ian thinks Mickey is just lashing out and once it’s out of his system, he’ll just come back. Lip and his baby mama and her crazy Trumper aunt are in the scene as well. They all concur that in Lip’s words, “Ian left Mickey at the altar,” but Ian doesn’t see it that way. He honestly thinks they were gonna get married for the wrong reason. His contradiction and ambivalence is honestly the only thing that feels realistic about all of this mess.
13:30-14:36 - Mickey continues needling Ian very broadly and obviously about how great this Byron kid is and how much sex they’ve been having, and even implies he’s a Koch, which is silly. Mickey goes so far as to claim he’s in love with this guy (they met last night) and says he’s moving in with him. It’s dumb-o.
18:35-20:58 - Ian somehow just now discovers that 50% of all marriages end in divorce????? That’s been true for so long now, even someone the show is now painting as kind of an idiot (but not half as big of one as Mickey is) would know that stat. It’s just more EXPOSITION. Anyway, he’s hanging out with Liam in the kitchen, and Debbie comes in. Ian tells her that: “Mickey’s a punk, and he’s decided he’s gonna fuck other people if I don’t marry him.” She says Ian’s just scared, and he should marry Mickey to make him happy, even if it does end in divorce eventually. Ian’s all, “I’m not scared,” but not even Liam believes him. Ian invites Liam to go run an errand, and they steal Trumpy Aunt’s wallet on the way out.
28:06-28:54 - OMG, small Byron has that bright Disco Overlook Hotel area rug from Ikea that I really wanted to buy some years back adorning the floor of his tiny loft. Sad face. Anyway, Mickey barges in and throws his garbage bag of crap everywhere and says he won’t share the bed, Byron needs to sleep on the floor. Says some lines about when he wants his dinner served, and how they’ll only have sex when Mickey wants to, and obviously he’ll top cuz this dude’s “basically a chick,” which is a funny line, tbh. ALSO, this pretty much proves they haven’t even actually banged, since they haven’t even discussed preferences. Lol. So yeah, Mickey is using this kid for anything and everything he can, cuz he found a big ol’ sweetie pie pushover (that’s maybe a little bit afraid of him).
33:50-34:36 - Ian makes Liam try on engagement man-rings, because: “Mickey has freakishly small hands.” They’re at the Alibi and combing through the jewelry a shady hawker is selling. Ian buys two rings on Trumpy Aunt’s credit card.
42:53-44:52 - I really miss Ian & Lip scenes, tbh. I used to love their brotherly friendship. Some of the old magic feels back in this scene, idk. Ian tells Lip he’s gonna go propose to Mickey. Lip asks him why, and Ian says it’s cuz he loves him, but then after a pause says that Debbie told him to. Even though Ian wants Mickey back, he also clearly wants Lip to talk him out of marriage, which he kind of does (for now). Lip says he should do it one day, after he figures out why he doesn’t want to now.
47:06-51:10 - A genuine FOUR MINUTE scene! Ian shows up at Byron’s place (where’d he get the address tho???) and Mickey’s been hanging out there for like a handful of hours maybe, but this lil dude just wants him GONE already. Lmao. He clearly knows who Ian is and practically runs into his arms in a grateful hug, saying, “Oh, thank god, PLEASE take him back!” Ian is like wtf, and waits as this guy calls Mickey “honey” and says he has a visitor. Mickey makes another big show implying impending sexy times, grabbing at a very not into it Byron as he retreats up the stairs. Mickey seriously greets Ian like, “What’s up, bro!” I meeeean... Anyway, Ian I guess decided in transit that he’s not gonna propose, he’s just gonna say these are “promise rings” and has some line about how: “Gallaghers and marriage don’t mix well, but a Gallagher keeps his promise.” Since... when??? Like... Frank??? And... what??? Lol... Mickey’s not buying that shit either. He makes a good point about Ian not even wearing his “promise ring” on his finger, but around his neck instead (someone caught a Sex & the City rerun where Carrie carries that rock on a necklace, cuz she’s def not sure about marrying Aidan), where no one can even see it. Ian says he’s not saying “never” to marriage, and Mickey counters that he’s actually saying that he doesn’t love Mickey enough right now. And then he says he’s got Barry anyway, and Ian has to correct the name, which is a nice touch, I’ll admit. And then comes Cam’s best bit of acting on this show in like Y-E-A-R-S. I always thought he did best when he was in depressed/manic mode, and that comes through here when Ian actually gets to the heart of his real fears about committing fully to Mickey, which are of course that he doesn’t trust himself and doesn’t think Mickey should be tied to him and all his crazy bullshit. He doesn’t understand how Mickey can know for sure that he loves him. All that internalized shit is stuff I can easily actually relate to, and this is really the first 100% truly honest moment we’ve had between IxM in all of season 10. I hope we get one or two more by the end. I don’t really completely buy Mickey’s reaction being, “When you get over the ‘I’m not worthy of being loved’ shit, gimme a call,” because he is the fucking KING of not thinking he’s worthy of being loved! That's always been a huge component of who he is, and how I always write him to be, personally (always struggling to think of himself as worthy of anything good, particularly love, among many many other internal struggles, obvs). He also knows exactly how low Ian can get on his down-swings, and since we know from s5 that Mickey likes taking care of Ian, I just don’t think he’d treat him this way. I’m not saying he would give in, but we would see some softness come through. A lighter touch. Anyway, Ian looks super sad as he walks away, but then he spots Barry’s Vespa in the alleyway and gets his own bit of petty revenge (on the wrong person) by pissing in his gas tank, cuz Shameless!
Episode Tally: 8 scenes. 13 mins 10 secs.
#sorry this got so long lol#guess i had some thoughts#ian x mickey#gallavich#the ian & mickey show#shameless spoilers#10x09#timestamps#shameless
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Of “Love” & Murder - (12/13)
CHAPTER TITLE: Revenge, Like Chocolate, Can Be Both Bitter and Sweet
RATING: M
PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)
CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Remus Sanders, mentions of Satanic symbolism, Ted Bundy/Jeffrey Dahmer/serial killer references, Rocky Horror Picture Show reference, Poison, Swearing, mentions of Janus Sanders, referenced Smut, Smutty Thoughts, mentions of Sex Toys, Thanatophobia (fear of dying), mentions of Previous Deaths, various Methods of Murder, mentions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder, brief mention of Prison Rape, Dumpster Diving, Eating/Eating Gross Food, talks of Grey Morality, Morally Grey Patton, Baking/Food mentions
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton meets with Remus.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here we are! We’re now at the second to last chapter! Despite the low reception of this fic, I’m very happy with it and it’s been so much fun posting it and seeing everyone’s reactions to it. Fun fact: I’m not real sure what rating this chapter would be under. Obviously it has mature stuff because of Remus, but it’s not too extreme to where no body can read it. It’s not a murder chapter, but he does talk about murder, so maybe it’s best to leave it M rated. lol Happy All Hallow’s Eve, everyone! Have fun reading! xx Virge
INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides
AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!
To say Patton was nervous was an extreme understatement.
He was pacing back and forth in an alleyway— the location where Remus wanted to meet— going between fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and twirling a stray curl of hair. Blue eyes frantically scanned the dingy place he was in, not wanting to suddenly be jumped by a dangerous stranger.
Brick walls were stained with something the confectioner didn’t want to know what. Droplets of water from the gutters above dropped down onto the cobblestone. Garbage cans were tipped over, rotting food and other things made the air smell putrid.
A black cat scurried from behind one and past his feet, meowing loudly.
Patton squeaked and flinched as it went by. After collecting himself, he started to fidget more.
He hoped Remus would be here soon. With every minute he was in this alley, he was growing more and more frightened.
Despite this, he tells himself that this is worth it.
For Roman.
For Logan.
For Dorian.
For himself.
In the midst of his self-panic and self-reassurances, Patton didn’t catch the sounds of the metal fence behind him being scaled upon.
“So, you’re Patton Hart, hmm?” A high-pitched, slightly screechy voice said.
Patton yelped and spun around, instantly being greeting with the sight of Remus.
The man looked completely different from Roman, it was almost hard to believe that they were brothers, let alone twins. While the former thespian was composed, elegant, and beautiful, Remus…was anything but.
He looked like a rebellious punk, to put it simply.
Remus’ hair was oily-looking, very unkempt and scrappy; dark brown, almost black in color with touches of green hair dye in it and a single streak of silver. He was clad in a leather biker vest, various patches decorating it, and a fishnet shirt underneath which displayed all of his bruises, cuts, and scabs. His pants almost reminded him of Virgil’s jeans: ripped yet his were baggy as opposed to tight-fitting. His ankle boots were spiked, decorated with an upside down cross and a symbol that looked to be very satanic.
As a matter of fact, all of his jewelry appeared to be just that: skulls and satanic symbols. They were predominantly pieces that littered his neck, but he was also studded with a lot of piercings: a labret plus a lip, multiple ear and eyebrow ones, a chained nose, and a belly button. And all of them were silver as opposed to the gold Roman used to wear.
Looking at him twice over, Remus seemed to be a combination of Roman, Remy, and Toby.
Patton quickly straightened himself up, not wanting the other man to see just how scared he was.
“And you must be Remus Duke,” he responded back. His voice shook a little as he spoke. “I have to say, and I hope you don’t think me rude, but you looking nothing like your brother.”
Remus snorts. “That’s a compliment.” He tells him. “I’d rather not be a goody-goody Abel like my brother was.” He looked Patton up and down, giving him a quirked expression, “Ain’t you a bit saccharine to get help from me? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for beddy-bye time?”
“No!” Patton yells stubbornly. He recoils and tries again. “I-I mean, no. I really, really need your help, Remus. This is the only way I can truly stop Virgil.”
“Ha ha! So you’re also Virgil’s newest boy toy!” Remus grinned manically. Patton squealed and shivered in disgust at that. “I swear he goes through boy toys faster than either Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer did with their victims. Well, not as fast, but—”
“C-Cut it out!” Patton shrieked, stomping his foot in childish anger. He grew sickened at the thought of a monstrous killer like Bundy or a twisted cannibal like Dahmer, and comparing Virgil to them just made it worse.
(It was in that moment when the confectioner remembered the words Dorian told him before he divulged into how he was murdered. While Virgil was a horrible individual, he was nothing like how those men were. They were all criminals, yes, but the widower was somehow of a lesser evil.)
Trying to relax his shoulders, Patton asked again. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Still grinning, Remus jumped off the fence and onto the cobblestone. It wasn’t pleasant sounding as he fell flat on his ass. But he appeared to be okay as he shot straight into the air and began fishing through his pockets, humming Touch-a , Touch-a, Touch-a Touch Me under his breath while he searched.
“Ha ha!” he exclaimed when he finally found what it was he was looking for. He pulled out a vial of sinister-looking liquid, skull and crossbones marked on the front of it.
Poison.
Cyanide, to be more specific.
“This should be the very thing that’ll fuck Virgy-poo up!” Remus exclaimed happily. Then he pouted. “Lucky bastard,” he mumbled. “Just put this in whatever it is you’re gonna give him and watch with glee as he chokes and dies! Ooh, that sounds fun! Can I come and watch too?!”
“No!”
Remus pouted more, actually looking sad.
Patton was about to walk over and grab the vial but Remus stopped him.
“Not so fast, Mr. Fluffy Butthole.” Patton scrunched his nose. A serious look was in Remus's emerald green eyes. “Why do I have the stinky feeling this is for more than just my brother?”
The confectioner reeled back. “…What?”
“You wouldn’t have gotten my number from Toby and call me by saying ‘how would you feel about helping me avenge your brother’ without wanting to do more.” Remus narrowed his gaze. “You wanna avenge Virgil’s other husbands too, don’t you? Spouses or whatever they were.”
Patton opened his mouth to try and say something, but all he could do was sigh and nod. “You’re right,” he finally tells him. “It’s for more than just your brother. It’s also for Virgil’s second spouse, Logan Oxford—”
“That author who seemed so stubborn xe had a stick up xyr butt? Man, xe needed to get laid.”
“…xe were asexual…”
“…Emotionally laid, then.”
“You mean having a loving, supportive relationship?”
Remus gagged. “Don’t be lewd!”
“Xe were also aromantic.”
“I could’ve helped with that!” Remus grinned. “But if xe were also asexual, then it would’ve been no dice. Hehe, dick ice, hehe!”
Patton ignored him and continued on from before. “— and his third, Dorian Cain—”
“Ah! The serpent-y lawyer whose tongue was for more than lying!” Remus grinned more. Since he was a little closer to him, Patton could see the yellow of his teeth. “I’ve heard that he and Virgil were a lot alike. Plus, they were really able to get” – he wriggled his hips – “it” – he started thrusting “on!”
The confectioner blinked, then sighed deeply and tiredly. How exactly was he Roman’s twin brother? (He could practically hear Roman sighing along with him).
“I was in cahoots with him, you know!” Remus tells him, still thrusting for some silly reason.
“So I’ve heard,” Patton tells him, not wanting to delve into details about the supernatural encounters he had. He didn’t need to give this guy the time of day. “They said you called him about wanting him to find evidence on Virgil, but he said no.”
“Yep!” Remus stopped mid-thrust and emphasized on the p. “He accused me of wanting to slander a celebrity, like everybody else did. But it was also because he didn’t want to put his own husband on trial or some other bullshit.”
He blinked then continued thrusting. “I wonder what would’ve happened if I got to him first?” he mumbled to himself in curiosity. He turned to Patton with a grin. “You think Virgil is great in bed? I would’ve given that lawyer the time of his life! We would’ve fuck for days and weeks on end using all the neat kinky toys I have! Plus, all the crazy flexible sex positions?!” He bobbed his head from side-to-side, singing. “Anyone Virgil could do, I could do better~!”
Apparently, Virgil did that and then some, Patton couldn’t help but think to himself, suddenly being reminded of how explicit Virgil and Dorian were. (If the lawyer were here, he’d probably be flattered and chuckle in his ear).
“But it’s more than them too!” the confectioner exclaims, continuing on from where he left off previously. “It’s for any other potential victim of Virgil’s…and me too…”
“Oh?!” This intrigued Remus as he now had Patton’s full attention. “How so?” He could see the confectioner tugging and fiddling with his sweater. Remus actually saw him doing this when he was stalking the alleyway. It must be a grounding mechanism for him or something, kind of like how he plays with his fingers.
“Because—because I’m scared of dying.”
Remus blinked. “You are?”
“Yes— Of course, I am!” Patton didn’t know why the other man was acting like dying isn’t something to be feared. Because, to him, especially in this circumstance, it was. “If I don’t do anything to stop Virgil, I’m scared I’m gonna die. And I don’t wanna die.”
Tears came to his eyes, he rubbed them away with a fist.
“I don’t want to end up like the others. I don’t want a ribbon around my neck, or arsenic in my belly, or a bullet in my head. I don’t want to have my life cut short by someone who might actually want me dead!”
Now he had both fists rubbing harshly at his cheeks. “There’s so much of my life I want to live. There was so much of their lives that they had yet to live. And I want to be able to avenge that…I want my friends, and even you, to be at ease knowing they finally found peace.”
Remus watched awkwardly as Patton cried in front of him. He wasn’t all that good with the emotional, cutesy, kind-wordsy stuff like his brother was. But if Roman was in this situation, he would know what to do better than anyone else.
He knew the moments when his brother would need a hug, and this would be one of them.
So, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Patton, letting him sob into his shoulder.
Patton curled further into him, not caring that he smelled of body odor and garlic.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay. It’ll all be a-okay.”
The confectioner sniffled. “How do you know that?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.
“Because that mean, nasty Virgil’s gonna get what’s coming to him!” Remus tells him. He takes Patton’s tear-stained glasses and licked them clean. He then walked over to a garbage can and fished out a dirty napkin to wipe them with. “Here you go!”
Patton grimaced as he put his… ‘newly cleaned’ glasses back on.
“Even if Roman didn’t like me all that much, he was one of my favorite people,” Remus continues. “And I was incredibly upset when he was killed, or ‘committed suicide,’ as the police suspected.” He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to bring Virgil to court, I really did, but there was no evidence left at the crime scene.”
Remus snarled; fists clenched together tightly. “When they told me that…I was thinking of contemplating murder myself.” He shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to do to him.” He began counting on his fingers, “Disembowel him, let my pet rats feed on his body, flood my teeth with his spine, build a sandcastle out of his ashes. You name it, I wanted to do it.”
Patton got visibly sickened with each possible method of murder and violence.
“And yet I couldn’t do anything. I may be a wildcard, but Virgil is much more cunning. He’s slipperier than a bar of prison soap.” Patton dared not ask what he meant by that. “Plus, he might’ve expected that I would come and destroy him when I got the chance. So, there wasn’t anything I could do.”
“But you tried though,” the confectioner says. “Despite there not being evidence, you still went and contacted Dorian Cain to try and see what would happen.”
Remus nodded. “Well, yeah. I figured I might as well eat the bullet and chew until I’m forced to spit it out. And so, I called Dorian’s law firm and asked anyway. Even though I was told ‘no,’ something deep within my dick told me that he might try and do something in secret. When I saw in the papers that he had also killed himself, I thought my chances were ruined for good.”
“However,” he then held out the vial of poison for Patton to take. He could see just how dirty his fingers were: bruised, chewed-up fingernails, chipped black and green nail polish, and grime around the cuticles. “You can be the one to finish him off. Do what me and Dorian couldn’t, and put that murdering piece of shit in the ground where he belongs.”
At first, Patton seemed hesitant about taking it from him, but after everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s heard, everything he’s feared, his resolve was hardened.
He takes the vial and stuffs it in his pocket.
Standing closer to Remus, he can see the details he couldn’t see from afar: flakes of dandruff in his hair; messy, purple, smoky eyeshadow; black lipstick that was slightly smeared; a little bit of stubble growing above his lip; along with any other cuts, bruises, and scabs on his skin.
Not only that, he could see the various patches on his biker vest; only a small handful of them were satanic and anarchist symbols, while the rest were a mixture of things Remus must enjoy. A green sword with tentacles coming from it, a Morningstar, an anatomical heart, a bloodshot eyeball, a skeleton, a peach, a couple octopi and krakens, an alien, a peach, a hazardous symbol, some that involve cursing and parental advisory, some dark Disney ones, an opossum with he/him pronouns, the aromantic flag, and lastly, one that has ‘Duke’ on it in graffiti.
Despite his appearance, Patton might consider this gross man…not so much a friend, but an ally.
“…Remus?” Said man leans in closer, making Patton bend back. “…Thank you. Truly. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your help.”
He waved nonchalantly. “Eh, don’t worry about it,” he tells him. He walks over to one of the garbage cans and starts rummaging through it once more. “It’s the least I can do. Being an assistant— heh, ass-istant— is better than being forced to sit back and do nothing.” He pulls out a rotting banana, unpeeling it and then taking a bit bite out of it.
Patton looked like he was going to throw up.
Mid-chew, he looked back at the confectioner. “You know,” he mumbled, browning banana flying out of his mouth. “For someone who looks all pure and morally righteous, you gotta little bit of grey in ya.”
“I’m only doing this for good.”
“Maybe,” Remus gulps loudly then takes another huge bite. “But you’re still planning on killing him. No matter how you justify it, redrum is redrum.”
“Redrum?”
“Murder. The Shining. Stephen King.”
Patton hummed.
“Seriously though, who am I to talk morals schmorals to you? Good and bad is all made up nonsense!” Another loud gulp, another big bite. “So! When are you gonna do the do?”
“You mean do the deed?”
“Same thing!”
“Tomorrow.”
“Ooh! On Halloween night too!” Remus grinned excitedly. Patton had honestly forgotten that it would be Halloween, having been so preoccupied with everything has was going on at 613 Rue Morgue. “Are you suuure I can’t come with you?”
“I’m sure, Remus. Thank you.”
Remus pouts again, but he quickly shrugged it off.
“Ah well,” he drops the banana peel at his feet. Litter bug. He started to scale up the fence, allowing Patton to see the large green kraken that covered his back. “I guess I’ll leave the rest to you. Good luck, Patton!”
With a gleeful wave, Remus jumps over and disappears into the shadows from whence he came.
Patton stays in his spot for the longest time.
Maybe…he was a bit grayer than he realized. Through his entire life, he was never really challenged on his morals. He always played by the rules and laws of life, not wanting to face the punishments for having done something wrong.
But now, he was.
He was faced with someone who had a complete disregard for them and is walking a free man with three murders (maybe even more) stained on his hands.
And here he was, wanting to change all of that.
Like he said to Remus, it was for a good cause: to have their spirits be appeased and to have Virgil never commit any heinous crimes ever again. Even if the solution was a permanent one.
Maybe…the other man was right. Maybe…good and bad really is made up nonsense.
With the thoughts of his newly-placed morals in his head, Patton finally left the alleyway.
The alleyway that Remus chose was in the lower part of town, the shadier and troublemaking part to be specific. And even though Patton could have chosen to take his car, he walked since he lived close by in the lower regions of downtown.
It was a long but much needed walk for the confectioner to take.
While the air proved to be chilly, the autumn leaves dropped down onto the ground, creating a little ombre of colors on the sidewalk. The night sky was a trifecta of rich purples, deep blues, and cool blacks. Dots of white twinkled above, making the picturesque scene complete.
Patton looked around at all the holiday decorations that were on display. All of the ghosts, witches, scarecrows, and grim reapers all gave him a bit of a fright. The fake tombstones and giant rope spider webs made him squeak and turn his head for a split second. But he smiled at seeing the differently carved jack-o-lanterns— some more intricate than others— and the outdoor lights that glowed in various colors, like orange, purple, green, blue, red, white, and black. Though what really got a giggle out of him, were the inflatables that stood on each lawn; some were of pumpkins, others were black cats, and was the occasional spooky tree.
Many people love going all out on Halloween, and the confectioner was one of them, having spent so many hours throughout September and October transforming the interior of his shop.
He continued walking into downtown, fog hovering over the street lamps as the air grew a little denser and colder. The streets were slightly bustling as people were walking to and from various stores, all in last-minute preparation for tomorrow night. Many of them were families, with children bouncing up and down excitedly about their costumes while the parents held bags that were presumably filled with candy and other goodies.
It all made Patton smile, for he had that same childish whimsy.
The confectioner didn’t stop walking until he came to a very familiar brown building, the words Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries swirled in fancy but readable font on the window.
Patton took a minute to gently trace his fingers across the white lettering. He still remembers the first day he opened its doors, a young and bright-eyed man who simply wanted to spread the sugary joy that his grandmother used to give him.
With a deep breath, he walked into his confectionery shop, the jingle of the bell above the door made his heart swell up a little. Once inside, he gazed around, nostalgia and melancholy shone in his eyes as he flipped on the lights.
Golden chandeliers glowed from the cream-colored ceiling as the shop became illuminated, presenting the changes that Patton had made. The only other things that remained the same were the dark brown and white tile, and the wooden stands and tables dressed with dishes and bowls, but what filled them had changed since September.
Eyeball-shaped white chocolate truffles, and ghostly popcorn balls were now the specialty treats for the holiday; along with cookies in the shape of skeletons, and white chocolate bark with candy corn. In the display case were still the traditional chocolates, but there were also pumpkin spiced cakes and cupcakes, along with macaroons of varying monstrous design and Frankenstein cereal treats.
However, the two favorites were front and center: gooey marshmallow, and glistening candy apples. The best part about them? The marshmallow is dyed in accordance to the holiday, and the candy apples were also coated with white icing to make it look like Snow White’s poisoned one from the Disney movie.
Walking in further, he plugged in the decorative lights that hung from the walls. The miniature pumpkin luminary bags added another layer of festive spirit to the store, and they paired nicely with the cutout garlands Patton had made some-years back.
The confectioner tenses up as he feels vial of poison roll into his hands from inside his pocket.
A part of him still feels conflicted about doing something like this.
Obviously he knows what Virgil did was horrible and wrong, but on the other hand, he wished there was a much simpler way to see his downfall come to fruition. But as Remy and Toby said, if the police were working with him, then it was impossible to see lawful justice be served to him. (Dorian tried it, and look what happened.)
So this was the only option he had left.
Resolve slowly hardening, Patton made his way to the kitchen to begin work.
He began pulling out giant mixing bowls— both silver and copper, measuring cups, double boilers, spoons and forks, and a plethora of ingredients in order to create the perfect box of poisonous chocolates.
Patton didn’t need to think about which ones he would give to the widower, he knew the recipes for each one by memory.
The first recipe read:
“1 lb of dark chocolate
16 maraschino cherries with the stem
3 tablespoons softened butter
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar”
Parts of the second read:
“2/3 cups dark chocolate chips
1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy cream
A dash of cinnamon”
The third read:
“7 oz. finely chopped dark chocolate
1/3 cup espresso
½ tablespoons unsalted butter
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder”
And finally, the fourth read:
“1 cup melted cocoa butter
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
3 tablespoon dark chocolate
½ teaspoon almond extract”
Within each recipe, he made sure to add the cyanide poisoning into the mixtures, adding a bit more than necessary so that it wouldn’t be masked by any of the other ingredients. (He wore protective gear, of course. The same mask and gloves he wore whenever he dabbled in making anything featuring liquid nitrogen.)
Hours later, he had batches cooling on racks and baking sheets. And after checking that he had a perfect set of thirty-two, he began the decorating process. Glazes, icings, and sugars scattered about in the air and dusted his face, hair, and fingers.
Once everything was done up all nice and pretty, Patton placed them all in a box: a black one topped with a bow of dark violet ribbon.
Patton stood back and observed his craftsmanship. A deep frown slowly made its way to his face.
The first part of the deed was done…
…now? It was time for Virgil to have a taste of his own chocolatey medicine.
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Let’s Kill Tonight
Arthur Fleck/Joker - Even though he watched the city of Gotham burn with delight, there is a part of him that still there that wants to help.
Word Count: 1,029
Joker/Arthur Fleck x Female Teenage!Reader
Requested by: my dumbass
Author's notes: okay but this lowkey might be a series, so tell me what y’all think. Also, I HOPE THE FORMAT ISNT FUCKED UP ON MOBILE BC IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT RN
Y/N - Your Name
Additional Notes: NOT A ROMANTIC PAIRING + Implications of depression, violence and suicide.
SPOILER WARNING: SPOILERS ARE MENTIONED HERE. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED, I SUGGEST SCROLLING HELLA QUICKLY OUTTA HERE. but if this aint news and yall watched this, you’re welcome fellow brethrens.
A/N 2: yall already kNOW that my dumbass be making Joker 2019 fics after seeing it in the theatres (and spending money to watch it the second time woo hoo!) anyway, here’s this weird shit that i wrote, and this might be a series lowkey. Idk, if yall want me to write it as a series, i’ll see what the people want.
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It’s been a month. A month; and the less than privileged still riot on the streets of Gotham. Screams, fires and glass scatter amongst the city so carefully built with fine class that it almost looks demolished—apocalyptic. The grey skies turn into dark nights as Y/N walks through the battered and crowded city. Ever since the confession from the man who calls himself ‘Joker’ had revealed how he was behind the killings of those Wall Street men. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the man she called ‘a hero to the poor people’ and a ‘vigilante for the homeless’ had vanished to. After the whole event, she aimlessly walked the streets and alleyways to find him; curiosity killed the cat, as she wandered towards a dark and dank alley. Garbage and plastic littered the rainy floor as a homeless cat had gotten startled by Y/N’s presence.
She heard from two other thugs that were part of the riot that they had met the Clown Prince of Crime himself, as he had asked them to complete a task to get the movement and rebellion moving. But after that, he was never explicitly seen again. The man was a myth, a legend, an anti-hero to people like Y/N. Although his physical presence was absent, his chaotic energy lingered in the slums of Gotham.
To be honest, Y/N wasn’t even sure why she was looking for him. Maybe because it gave her something to strive for; to find meaning. Being an orphan and getting kicked out by the only thing she could live with, it seemed like fate was not on her side. It couldn’t her any worse than this right? For years as long as she can remember, her life had been spiralling out of control. Nobody, not even who she thought was family wanted her out of their lives, and in the end, it was just that. Unfortunately, that was life, and she was just in it for shit. So, finding something; or someone to look for gave her some semblance of hope and change. She wanted to end it all, but gave life one final shot.
Her footsteps were the only sounds that echoed through the thin path as she tirelessly carried her feet to the end. “Other empty alleyway. Fuck.” She muttered to herself, her voice dry from not having anything to eat for the second day in a row. It was awful, but she did start getting used to it. Walking out the alleyway; she reached the other side, and realized that she ended up going through a shortcut to the business district into Gotham—one of the richest parts of the city. Everything in the city was brightened in colour; compared to the slums of Gotham, everyone and everywhere was painted with vivid colours instead of the monochromatic grey she always saw. Grey; so grey that it made her feel sick sometimes.
Her eyes danced and lingered in amazement at the different colours in the rich part of the city. Her eyes glued to the sky and world around her, she suddenly fell to the ground; a man with a suit had ridiculed her for standing in the way. “Fucking kid! Watch where you’re going! You don’t belong here!” He said as he walked on. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she felt the anger start to boil in her blood—reminding herself why she always sided with the Joker’s protests and his ways. Pushing herself back up, she was then again pushed down by more men in rich suits and suitcases. Wishing her gone and dead; ridiculing her over and over in their colourful suits. “Hey kid,” said one of the men who had crouched at her level from above her. She looked up with uncertainty painting her face; but beneath the uncertainty fear and anger had rose to her head. “Go home.” Was all he said as he shoved her toward the shortcut she just previously left from. The man sauntered over her small figure—his demeaning build bullying her to a corner. “That’s right kid. Go. Ack to the slums.” He yelled back, kicking her in her ribs and going about his day like nothing ever happened. It was sad that Y/N had gotten used to feeling this way. So small compared to the world—with bruises covering her skin most of the time. Her hands held the already forming bruise on her hip, as she cradled close to a unwatched dumpster fire that she soon collected warmth from. this was the third week kicked out from her foster home. Third in counting.
The time spent alone was cut short however, as she felt a figure approach her small and cuddled stance. Looking up, she huddled her knees closer to her body to reveal something, or someone she wasn’t expecting at all.
The Joker stood before her, towering over her small and huddled body as he cooly flicked his finished cigarette on the ground. For someone who started such chaos a month ago, he looked like his entire life he was dressed in a suit; but that’s not the case as his confident stance and mannerism said... different. The red and yellow suit had looked custom tailored, as it fit him so well, the green hair slicked back made him look so badass and the clown makeup—so precise and tidy like he had just put it on an hour ago. Holding out his hand toward her she stared in awe. This was it. “Are you gonna take my hand kid or just gonna stare?” He said with a small chuckle. His voice smooth as hell and his lengthy arm stretched out it was almost touching her nose.
Snapping out of her starstruck trance she nodded quickly and took his hand; easily getting up with one swift motion. Patting her on the head, no words were exchanged between the two, as he simply just took out a lighter and another cigarette, lighting it. “Walk with me kid.” He smirked, having put the cigarette in his mouth and putting his hand on her shoulder, walking with her. All she did was smile, as she thought that things were already turning up.
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✨MASTERLIST✨
#zarawrites#joker 2019#joker#joaquin phoenix joker#joaquin phoenix#joker movie#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck#joker imagine#joker x reader
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Fear (Richie Tozier x Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak)
This was requested by @rubywolf12
Hope you like it!
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“No. Y/N, you are doing it all wrong!” Y/N’s husband Eugene yelled, his face becoming red in anger.
“What exactly am I doing wrong?” Y/N asked, wanting to get out of this ballerina dress. She was practicing for the show ‘Swan Lake’ in a few weeks with her husband Eugene.
“Your form is lazy and you are missing some steps in the dance!” He said, his voice raising a bit.
Y/N flinched a bit at that. When he gets too mad, he would start to become physically abusive.
Because of all the abuse he made her go through, Y/N started to self harm.
Some of her coworkers were concerned about her when she became distant from them, but she would assure them that she is fine.
“Relax Eugene, I still have a few weeks until the show. I’ll get better.” She said as she watched him get up onto the stage and walked towards her.
“You don’t tell me to relax. And it’s your fault, you can’t do a single fucking thing right!” He growled grabbing her wrist tightly.
She gasped in pain as he tightened his grip.
“Do it right, or you will be severely punished.”
Y/N was about to say something until she heard her phone ringing.
Eugene let go of her wrist and gestured to her bag. Y/N walked over to her bag and took out her phone.
“Hello?” She said answering the call.
“Hello, is this Y/N L/N?” A man’s voice spoke from the other end.
“Yes, who is this?” Y/N asked.
“It’s Mike. Mike Hanlon.”
Y/N’s eyes widened.
Mike, one of her friends when she was a child.
“Mike, hey. What’s up?” She asked, wondering why Mike is calling her.
“IT is back, you need to come back home. Back to Derry.”
Y/N’s hand then started to hurt as well as her head.
Memories started to flood back. Her childhood in Derry, and her friends, the Losers Club.
She loved each one so much, but not the same as Richie and Eddie.
She wondered how they are doing.
“Are you coming back?”
“Yes.” She replied.
“Good, we are meeting up at the local Chinese restaurant in Derry. See you there.” Mike said before ending the call.
“Who were you talking to?”
Y/N turned to see Eugene glaring down at her.
“Just an old friend.” She replied.
“Really, and what did this Mike want?” He asked as he grabbed Y/N’s arm tightly.
“Nothing, he was just telling me that our old friends are meeting up back in our home town just for a dinner reunion.” Y/N said as she tried to pull away.
“Why do you have to lie to me?” He asked, as he pulled her towards him.
“I am not lying.” Y/N said starting to get mad at him.
“Yes you are. What are you going to do with this Mike? You little slut!”
That made Y/N finally snap and she kicked him where the sun didn’t shine.
“Gah!” He shouted as he collapsed on the ground.
“We are done!” Y/N growled, taking her wedding ring off and threw it right at him.
“You get back here!” She heard him shout as she grabbed her bag and walked down the isle of seats and to the doors of the auditorium.
“If you leave, you are nothing! You are nothing without me!”
When she got to the doors, she turned back to where Eugene was on stage.
“Goodbye Eugene.” She said before leaving.
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Y/N sighed as she stood in front of the restaurant that Mike told her about on the way to Derry.
Was she ready to see everyone after being apart for 27 years?
She opened the door and entered the restaurant.
A hostess saw her and smiled.
“Hi, I’m here with Mike Hanlon.”
She nodded and lead her to a private room, where she heard laughing.
“Thank you.” Y/N said to the hostess before peaking inside.
There, she saw everyone.
Bill, Ben, Mike, Beverly, Stan, Eddie, and Richie.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
She hurried to the woman’s rest room to calm down a bit.
Splashing cool water into her face, she looked back up to see her skin a bit pale, with red water dripping down.
She looked at her hands and noticed blood dripping down from under her sleeves.
Her recent cuts must have opened up again.
She rolled her sleeves up and dabbed the blood away with paper towel.
As she threw the bloodied paper towel away and covering it up with more paper towel so nobody will see it.
“Y/N?” a woman’s voice spoke from behind her.
Y/N turned around to see a familiar red haired woman.
Beverly.
“Hey Bev.” Y/N said as Beverly pulled her into a hug.
“It’s been too long.” She said as she pulled away and took a look at Y/N.
“You never changed, just as awesome.” She said with a big smile.
Y/N smiled back.
“Same thing to you.”
Beverly then opened the door for Y/N.
“I bet the guys want to see you as well. I’ll be back out in a minute.”
Y/N exit the bathroom, leaving Beverly alone.
She then walked towards the garbage to see what Y/N covered up.
Looking in, her eyes widened when she saw the bloodied paper towel.
“Oh Y/N, what happened?” She whispered, covering the bloodied paper towel up again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking a deep breath, Y/N entered the dining area where the boys were.
They stopped talking and looked at her.
“Y/N, you came.” Mike said pulling her into a hug, then the others did the same thing as well.
Pulling away from the hug with Stan, Y/N then saw Richie and Eddie.
The two boys that she had a crush on when they were younger.
But now, she doesn’t know how she feels about the two men.
“Richie, Eddie...” The two men pulled her into a big hug.
“I missed you guys so much.” She said before pulling away.
“We missed you to (Nickname).” Richie said ruffling Y/N’s hair a bit and Eddie grabbed Y/N’s hand and they all sat down. Y/N sitting between Richie and Eddie.
Beverly came back into the room and sat down next to Richie and Bill and they all started to eat supper.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they were done, the dishes were taken away from waiters and a bowl of fortune cookies were laid in the center.
Each person grabbed one while talking a bit.
While the others were laughing, Y/N decided to open her’s up.
Cracking her cookie open, she took out a slip of paper. When she read it, she could barely breath.
‘Welcome home Y/N, I missed you and your fear’
The others opened their cookies up and looked confused.
“Mine says ‘Decided’.” Stan said placing his piece of paper on the table.
Beverly had ‘Look’
Ben had ‘To’
Bill’s said ‘Come’
Richie’s said ‘Who’
Eddie had ‘Well’
Mike had ‘Home’
As everyone started to mix their words together to figure out the message, Y/N looked at her paper, tears starting to form.
“Well, look who decided to come home.” Bill read the message.
Then the bowl of cookies started to shake, making everyone jump back.
Then little creatures started to break out of the cookies and fly around.
One little creature, a bat with one wing, went straight towards Y/N.
Screaming, Y/N tried to swat the thing away from her.
“Y/N!” Eddie and Richie shouted.
Richie grabbed a plate and smacked the bat away while Eddie pulled Y/N to him, rubbing her back to calm her down.
Richie caressed Y/N’s face with his hands and checked for any injuries that it could have done to her.
That’s when he saw blood, soaking through the sleeves of Y/N’s long sleeve shirt.
Y/N noticed and her eyes widened.
She pulled away from Eddie and ran out of the restaurant.
She ran into a nearby alleyway, slid down the wall and cried.
“I shouldn’t have come back.” She cried.
As she cried, she heard voices calling out her name.
“Y/N!” She could hear Richie and Eddie yell, becoming louder as they came closer to where she was.
She buried her face in her arms. She did not want them to see her like this.
She then heard footsteps patter over to where she was and stop.
“Y/N.” a soothing voice spoke, a hand starting to rub her back.
“Hey, Y/N, look at us.”
She opened her eyes, and looked up to see Richie and Eddie looking at her concerned.
“It’s alright, everything is going to be fine.” Eddie said as he slowly grabbed her arms and slowly rolled her sleeves up.
The two men were shocked to see so many cuts and bruises scattered on her arms.
“Y/N, why would you do this?” Richie asked as Eddie took out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood away.
“My life after leaving Derry was a nightmare. I married a man who I thought loved me, but I was wrong. He would punish me if I did anything wrong, whether it was at home, or while practicing for a ballad show.”
Y/N looked away as tears started to fall once more.
“Hey, don’t look away. Look at us.”
She looked back to see Richie and Eddie looking at her lovingly.
“He had no right to hurt you. You are an amazing, beautiful woman. And you deserve someone who loves you for who you are. Or maybe two, if you feel the same way like we do.”
Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. Did the two men in front of her just confess their feelings for her? So they love her just as much as she loves them?
“You both love me?” She asked, her voice barely in a whisper.
The two smiled.
“Yes. We do.”
Y/N smiled.
After all these years, the two boys from her childhood, now grown men love her just as much as she loved them. And she is not going to lose them, ever.
#richie tozier x reader#eddie kaspbrak x reader#richie x reader x eddie#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#beverly marsh#bill denbrough#mike hanlon#ben hanscom#stan uris
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Faedom Week Day One : Alternate Universe
Okay, here it is. A modern au (well, the rough outline for one anyway, lol. Didn't get a chance to write it out fully, but here's a general summary.)
This is for the 2019 Faedom challenge week, which is all about creating fanworks for @not-poignant 's Faetales verse.
Okay, so imagine that modern AU Augus owns a cafe. They make vegan fusion dishes. It's called Balance. Eran is the head chef, specializes in cooking directly over live flame and charcoal in an open - air cooking pit outside. The fact that they even were able to get the licenses for that kind of set up is suspicious. Other business owners in the area joke that Augus must have used some kind of mind- control powers to have gotten that zoning pushed through.
Mosk is homeless and squatting in the area. He meets Mikkel, who is doing homeless outreach for the local community mental health. Mikkel can get him a job, and a bed at one of the local shelters. Mosk doesn't want to stay at the shelter, he's got a system. Gym membership, laundromats for washing clothes, and if he does some sex work, it's nobody's business but his.
Mikkel reminds him that winter will be here soon, and if he works a steady job and saves enough, Mikkel says he can get him actual housing. Mikkel knows some people who are looking for a full time barrista/cashier. Best part? Mosk will eat for free while he's on shift.
Mosk reluctantly agrees. Meets at Balance, Mikkel introduces him to Augus, the owner. Augus talks to him for 5 minutes and is like, yeah fine. He can work for a trial period, we'll see how it goes. $15 an hour plus tips during the trial period, with a raise of he gets hired permanently, which is wildly generous for a barista. Mosk just stares at Augus, wondering if he's going to be expected to blow him for the job.
It turns out that Augus doesn't spend a ton of time on site, he spends most of his time cultivating and caring for the gardens and grounds of the historical manor his husband inherited, that they now rent out for events.
Augus introduces him to Julvia, the manager of the cafe, and then leaves. She shows him how the shop runs, starts training him a little bit, and has him jump on register then and there. Mosk is surprised that they already trust him with the money. But she does, and even stranger, she is kind to him. She doesn't seem to care that he's awkward and abrupt with the customers. Doesn't seem to care that his clothes are worn and a little tattered, that his sneakers have holes in them.
She tells him that Mosk will meet Eran, the head chef, soon. He's on vacation visiting his family, but he should be back in a week or so.
In the meantime, an easygoing and extroverted man named Ash is covering for Eran. Apparently he steps in sometimes to help with large catering orders, and covers for Eran sometimes. At the end of shift, Ash brings up an opportunity for Mosk to make some extra money on the side. Mosk immediately assumes that he means sex, and since Ash isn't unattractive at all and doesn't seem inclined to damage him, Mosk decides that he could use the extra money, and goes for it. It's a painfully awkward moment.
Ash clarifies that there are frequently events that Balance caters at the manor, and they always need servers. If he's interested, he should ask Julvia to put him in touch with Ash, who is apparently August's brother and the hospitality manager of the Manor.
Mosk is mortified but Ash handles it pretty gracefully and even winks at Mosk before he leaves.
Mosk settles in, and is cautiously hopeful that he might be able to get his own place, to grow a new life there. He's saving his money, keeps it on him at all times, changes out small bills for larger bills and keeps them tucked in his shoes.
Eran comes back and Mosk finally gets to meet him. Of course he's gorgeous. Of course he's a little bit of a hipster and his ass looks amazing in those jeans, the jerk. Of course he wears eyeliner (though Mosk thinks, resentfully, that his eyes do look beautiful to a nearly otherworldly degree when smudged with black and gold) .
Even worse, Eran is constantly condescending to him. I mean, isn't it obvious that's what he's doing whenever he is so persistently kind to Mosk? Why else would he be so nice? I mean, the nerve, always trying to feed him and asking him how his day is going and flirting with him. It has to be some kind of joke.
Mosk is flustered and, remembering his awkward encounter with Ash (and assuming Ash passed the story along), is caustic and rude back. Eran's food is 'hippy new age bullshit', Mosk obviously hates it (even though he eats every bite), and Eran can fuck off with trying to feed him that 'rich-bitch burnt grass garbage'.
Eran just laughs it off and keeps making him new dishes, until he finds a few that Mosk 'Doesn't hate, I guess'. It must be a coincidence when those dishes become regular offerings on the menu, allowing Mosk to eat them daily when he's at work.
One day, walking back to where he is squatting, Mosk is jumped and beaten up really badly. They rob him, beat him, and even take his shoes, which means his money is gone. He is found and taken to the hospital, and when they need to contact someone, Mosk gives them Mikkel's number. Mosk's leg has been broken, and several of his fingers.
Unbeknownst to Mosk, Mikkel can't come get him, he's out of town. He calls Augus, who is in the middle of an event at the manor. Ash is there too, and he can't leave either, so he sends Eran.
Eran goes to pick up Mosk at the hospital, Mosk argues. The hospital won't release him without a ride. Mosk finally agrees just so he can get out of there. The hospital gives him crutches which he can't fully use because of his fingers.
Eran takes him to go get his prescriptions filled, and then asks him where to drop him off. Mosk tries to get him to let him out several blocks away, but Eran insists that Mosk let him help him inside. Mosk gets angry and finally agrees, directs Eran to building he's squatting at.
Eran is horrified at the conditions Mosk has been living in, tells him that he's not staying there. Mosk is too tired to argue. They grab Mosk's backpack and Eran takes him back to his house.
Mosk doesn't want to stay there, only agrees to stay until he's well enough to leave on his own. Eran doesn't agree but doesn't disagree (plans on convincing Mosk to stay).
Eran puts Mosk up in his guest room. Mosk is terrified that he's going to lose his job. Admits that he's lost his entire savings when he got jumped. Eran assures him that he'll still have a job.
Augus and Ash come by the next day, and promise that he's not going to lose his job. In fact, in the meantime, Augus has a bunch of electronic files and paperwork that need to be organized, and Mosk can do that remotely and be relatively stationary, yes? He says that, factoring in the tips Mosk would have been making, that would have been roughly $20 an hour, so that's what Augus will pay him. Mosk is stunned. Augus leaves him a potted plant. Ash leaves him his old Nintendo DS.
Cue 'and they were roommates!' / sick fic bits, with Mosk being the WORST patient ever. Of course, Eran and Mosk start slowly bonding despite Mosk's resistance. Eran gets a little black cat, says it's for him but really it's for Mosk. Mosk pretends to hate it but secretly (and then not so secretly) loves it more than anything. Mosk names him Raven, and Eran jokes that Mosk treats him like a little prince. They start calling him The Raven Prince. Eran gets strangely jealous that Mosk loves on the cat so much, wishes that Mosk would pet HIM like that.
When Mosk starts getting a little more mobile, he starts cleaning the apartment, doing Eran's laundry, making his bed in the morning, etc. Eran tries to tell him that he doesn't have to do that, but Mosk seems ready to bolt otherwise, so Eran just starts praising him for it instead. Eran notices how much Mosk loves the plant that Augus brought him, starts bringing him home little succulents and plants. Mosk is flustered but accepts the plants, claiming that 'he'll take care of them for Eran'. Mosk asks Eran to teach him how to cook. Eran does. It's super cute.
Eventually, Mosk goes back to working at the cafe, and starts talking about moving out. Eran tells him that "The Raven Prince would be so sad if you left, he would be heartbroken." (Suuuure, Eran. TRP would be the one who is heartbroken. Suure.)
Mosk decides to stay a little longer, because who would do Eran's laundry for him if he wasn't there? Who would make sure that Eran's bed was perfectly made? Eran surely wouldn't do it for himself, considering the state of his apartment before Mosk came. Mosk is obviously doing him a favor by staying.
One day at work, one of his old clients shows up and gives him a hard time, tells Mosk he's going to show up at closing and fuck him in the alleyway out back. Mosk walks out without telling anyone, just straight up leaves without telling anyone. It is not great at the cafe, and Augus ends up having to come in and run the cash register. He is NOT happy. He asks Eran what happened, Eran has no idea.
Mosk doesn't come home that night, and Eran goes looking for him. Finds him back outside of where he was squatting before, but now that building has been knocked down and construction has started on new overpriced condos (Built by Davix and Olphix Associates, who seem to be buying up A LOT of property in the area. But that's neither here nor there). Mosk is pretty dissociated, but when Eran shows up, he's snaps back enough to be crushingly embarrasses and ashamed at what happened, and defensively lashes out at Eran, like is genuinely mean,and says some truly horrible things to Eran. Eran ends up leaving. Mosk doesn't come back to work. Doesn't go back to Eran's house. Just disappears. Eran lies to himself and says it's fine. It's not fine.
One day the next week, Mikkel comes in and asks where Mosk is. Eran tells him his version of the events as he knows them (which may be just a tad bit colored by his own hurt feelings). Mikkel demands to see the footage (of course there are security cameras. Augus's husband INSISTED on it. ) of what happened before Mosk left. He calls them all idiots for not checking it sooner.
Now they have to find Mosk, but he's not at any of his old haunts. Eventually Mikkel tracks him down to a very shady pay-by-the-week motel. He's almost out of his savings. He's been planning on going back to sex work. Mikkel tells him he could do that, or he could have his old job back. They watched the footage. They know he was threatened.
Mosk is humiliated, because now everyone knows about his history. Eventually Mikkel talks him into going back to the cafe. Mosk ignores Eran to the best of his ability. Eran is apologetic and tries to convince Mosk to 'come home'. He refuses.
Eventually Eran gets him to at least come over and visit with TRP. He cooks Mosk his favorite meal. He kisses Mosk for the first time. Mosk is the physical embodiment of Gay Panic, but he doesn't run. Eran has FEELINGS.
They start dating, though Mosk refuses to call Eran his boyfriend. Eran keeps trying to convince him to move back in, but Mosk refuses. Eran is worried about Mosk's independence, about his lack of protection, but he has to let Mosk do what he's going to do.
When Eran's family has a disaster (plane crash in Alaska, multiple family members killed), Mosk steps in and comes to take care of him. Eran is in a deep depression, is grieving. Mosk is strangely good at holding space for Eran. Eran begs him to stay. Mosk agrees, but won't share a room with Eran.
Eran slowly comes out of the deepest part of his depression, and he and Mosk grow even closer. Mosk gets another raise at the cafe. Eran goes back to work.
Cue some major drama with Davix & Olphix Associates trying to buy up Balance. It looks like all of their jobs are in jeopardy due to some kind of legal loophole. It looks like Balance may have to close its doors forever.
But wait! Mosk remembers some important piece of paperwork that he filed for Augus, and it's the critical piece of information that saves the day! Davix and Olphix give up (for now), and their jobs are safe. Eran tells Mosk that he loves him. Mosk…doesn't run away. Eran thinks that is enough.
Time skip, several months in the future. It's Christmas time, and today, the cafe is closed to customers, because Augus and Gwyn are throwing the staff a holiday party.
They have karaoke. Everyone gets tipsy, including Mosk. Mosk gets up on the karaoke machine, sings a love song to Eran (in a surprisingly sweet tenor). Tells Eran that he loves him. Eran is like, ohhh bby are you SURE you wanted to do this in front of all of our coworkers? And Mosk is like, you're an idiot, who do you think organized this party? And then…
MOSK PROPOSES TO ERAN IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
ERAN OF COURSE SAYS YES.
Epilogue: Eran is hovering around the food tent at the manor. There's an event that's going on, and he wants to make sure everything is running smoothly. Ash tells him that it is, and promises that he won't miss the ceremony.
Augus comes and grabs Eran and tells him to leave the food staff alone, that he's not allowed anywhere near the food tent again for the rest of the night. It's Eran's wedding, after all. He shouldn't be be working. Eran agrees.
Augus is tipsy, regales him with the story of his and Gwyn's wedding. Gives him slightly - drunken, very TMI advice for his honeymoon. Eran just nods and manages to keep a straight face.
Eran gets ready to walk down the aisle, which is filled with his friends and what's left of his family. He sees his husband to be, and thinks about the life they will build together, about all they've overcome.
Eran and Mosk read their vows. Augus is crying. Gwyn is holding his hand.
They say 'I do' and kiss. And step into their brand new future. Together.
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