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sapphosthoughtsandwritings · 3 years

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Phone Calls and Voicemails - Bucky x Reader x Natasha

Summary: Your abusive ex creeps his way back into your life, wanting you to return to him. When he threatens those you love, what will you do to make sure they're safe? And just how will your lovers react when they find out?

Warnings: talks of an abusive partner; mentions of physical abuse; verbal abuse/arguing; manipulation; brief mentions of therapy; food is mentioned a lot; allusions to cheating; Bucky restrains Reader by holding them; cussing || IF ANY OF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FIC ||

Genre: lots of angst, ends with fluff

Word Count: ~4.5K

A/N: Is- is this an appropriate way to come out as a Bucky x Natasha shipper??? On a more serious note, I haven't been very excited about my recent writing, so I decided to write something a little different to challenge myself, and I quite like how this turned out. I've also realized not taking my time and writing disingenuous to my style isn't the right way to go, so I apologize if I take longer to write from now on, but I think it'll be good in the long run! Also if you sent in a request, don't fret, I'm currently working on them!! Just needed something to help get me out of my writing block. :D || (not my gifs)

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Your phone buzzed abruptly, as you walked into your bedroom. You were hesitant to answer it. You’d been getting a lot more phone calls lately. What started out as voicemails that you assumed were prank calls, became ominous threats from a new number everyday. But you always answered. It worried you to think that one of your teammates may be calling from a borrowed phone, so of course you answered every number. This was becoming too much though.

Letting out a shaky breath, you took a few steps over to the nightstand by your bed, unplugging your phone, staring at the number flashing on the screen. You swallowed your nerves, pressing the green button, holding the cell up to your ear. “Hello?”. “Hey darling, you’re not gonna hang up on me again, right?”, you shut your eyes, regret washing over you. Who the hell was this? And why did they sound so familiar? “Who are you? And just what the fuck do you want?”, your face was tense, eyes glowing with frustration and fear. “My, oh my, so vulgar. Since when did you get such a dirty mouth, whore?”, the voice taunted. It suddenly hit you. You knew this person, the only person in your life that had talked to you like this: your ex. Well, abusive ex, that is. You sucked in a sharp breath, tears starting to well up, threatening to fall at any second.

“Alex. How the fuck did you get my number?”, your hand rested on the nightstand, holding up part of your weight, as you let your head lull downwards. “Oh, come on now, you can’t be serious. It’s not that hard to find your information through SHIELD’s files”. Right, how could you forget, he was notoriously good with hacking, which is why he was always in “trouble” with the law. Your nerves were on fire now, numb hands shaking with the sheer adrenaline running through you. You’re a trained fighter, so why was he scaring you? Maybe it was the months of manipulation, not knowing when he was going to blow, not knowing when his kindness was true or not, but knowing that you couldn’t fight back, he would always find a loophole. He would always win.

You pushed it all down, the memories didn’t matter right now. “So you’ve moved onto hacking one of the biggest government organizations. Hope that fares well for you. Not quite sure what the fuck that has to do with me though”, you sneered, your muscles hurting from being so tensed. You put on a cocky front, but you weren’t quite sure that your anxiety would ever end. He chuckled lightly at your words, the sound making your skin crawl. “You’ve always been all bark and no bite, huh? That’s the type of shit that gets your pretty face smashed up, kitten”, you cringed at the nickname, and at his words, as your mind played back scenes from your past with him. You still had scars from him, both physically and mentally. “Now, listen closely, can you do that for me?”, you gritted your teeth, refusing to respond to his question, although that was exactly what he wanted. “Good kitty, not so hard to keep shut, now is it? You know that I don’t like to beg for the things I want. So, why don’t you keep being good for me, and come back to me?”. “And why the hell would I do that?”, you spat at him, there was no way you’d ever go back to him, unless it was to kill him. You’d been through way too much therapy because of him, just another bill added on to the list of money you’d wasted on him. “What, you can’t connect the dots? If you don’t come back with me, I’ll make sure your whole team, hell the whole company, will pay for your ignorance”. Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t want to believe him, but a part of you knew that he could fuck things up royally. A part of you knew that he could hurt the people you now call family. He could hurt the two people you call yours. A tear managed to roll down your cheek, as you tasted iron, biting your lip so hard that it bled. Was it this easy for him to get you back? But it wasn’t worth his threat, whether or not he could follow through with it or not. “Don’t you dare do anything to them”, your voice was quiet, filled with blinding hatred. He laughed at that. He knew he had won. He always won with you. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t do anything. You just have to do what I say, yeah?”. The rational side of your mind took over for a moment, there’s no way he would actually dare mess with SHIELD, right? “You’re stupid if you think you can even get close enough to hurting my friends”. “No, no, I won’t hurt your friends first. I’ll do you one better. I’ve got… connections with HYDRA, to put it simply. I can make sure they get ahold of your precious boy and girl toy. I can make sure the next time you see them is while they slit your pretty little throat”, he enunciated the last three words, his voice holding a new found venom, a tone that cut straight through your façade. He knew how to hit where it hurt, and it worked. You’d do anything for Bucky and Natasha, no matter what, you’d make sure they were safe.

You rested your head on your arm that was still on the nightstand, your body hunching over on itself. You hadn’t felt this feeble, this hopeless, in so long, and it dragged you down into a deep black pit with no escape. “Fine”, was all you managed to say without letting him hear your voice break. He’d already won, you weren’t going to let him bask in your pain so easily. He hummed in approval, “Good choice, kitten. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early, before the sun rises, at the address I’ve texted you. Oh, and just remember, you tell a single soul about this, and your little lovebirds are HYDRA’s”, and with that, the line cut out, leaving you with a deafening silence. You fell to the floor haphazardly, the walls around you closing in as panic consumed you. What were you going to tell Nat and Bucky? They were already overprotective of you, they’d surely want to know where you were going. Your thoughts spiraled, and your throat burned from your sobs. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. You had to think of something, and fast. Bucky and Nat would be home soon.

You spent most of the afternoon pacing your room, biting at your nails, at your skin and lips. You’d forgotten to eat lunch, you’d forgotten when your lovers were coming home, and you always greeted them. So when you didn’t show up to shower the two agents in hugs and kisses, they worried. No amount of bruises or cuts from their mission held them back from racing through the halls of the compound, almost breaking the button to your floor in the elevator. Before you knew it, there was a heavy pounding at your door, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “(Y/n)? Baby? Are you okay in there?”, Nat’s voice called out. “Oh, fuck”, you muttered to yourself, there was no way you could face them like this. Your eyes were bloodshot, your hair disheveled from how much you’d been pulling at it, your fingertips and lips cut and bleeding slightly. Your lack of an answer fueled their anxiety more, as Bucky pounded at the door again. “Doll? What’s wrong? Open the door”. You wiped the tears off your face, brushing your fingers through your hair, making yourself look as presentable as you possibly could. You got to the door just on time, turning the knob at the same time as Bucky.

“Hey, loves, sorry I didn’t greet you guys, guess my nap knocked me out harder than I thought”, you chuckled nervously, watching both of their faces, reading for any sort of disbelief. They both let out a silent breath, visibly untensing at your words. “No worries honey, you need your sleep”, Natasha assured you, pushing past you into your room, Bucky following after her. He gently grabbed your face between his large hands, looking at your features with a hint of worry. “Have you been sleeping enough, doll? You look worn out”, his voice was tender, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks comfortingly. “I guess- well, maybe not”, this was a good enough excuse for your appearance and behavior, and you hoped they both bought it. Natasha walked over to you, circling her arm around your back. “Sounds like you could use a day off. Lucky for you, we’re all free from work tomorrow, so how ‘bout we all take the day to relax and cuddle?”, she squeezed your hip, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt your heart sink at her words, there was no way you could talk your way out of this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile to your face. “Hmm, that sounds perfect. A whole day to spoil you, peach”, Bucky added, smiling so warmly at you. It all made you want to break down crying again. Your anxiety bit at every nerve ending in your body, it felt like the whole world was closing in on you, but you had to fake it, for them. “Sounds good to me”, you murmured, afraid that if you raised your voice any more that you’d crack.

They could not find out about your ex, the man you’d only ever mentioned to your therapist. Of course, Natasha and Bucky inferred that there was some dark part to your past, but they never pressured you to open up. They only respected your boundaries, your need to go slow, your need to feel every moment, to know that it wasn’t just a dream. If anything, they knew exactly how you felt, and they were more than willing to take things at your pace, to give you every ounce of reassurance that you needed. You had no clue why you were so afraid of telling them about him. Maybe you were afraid of losing them, of their kindness being too good to be true. You didn’t want to chase them away, not when they’ve become the most important thing to you in life. Not when they’d taught you that you were in fact loveable, something you never thought you’d ever learn to feel. “Then it’s a deal, tomorrow’s a day just for us”, Bucky declared, leaning down to give you a slow and sweet kiss. “Yeah, just for us”, you echoed his words, as if trying to believe them yourself. “We’re gonna go and get cleaned up, then we can order your favorite take out for dinner”, Natasha said, smiling brightly at the idea of giving you something special.

They both started for the door, gesturing for you to follow. Your eyes remained down the whole time, stuck inside your head, contemplating what you should do. They both talked about their missions as they gathered their clothes, recalling close calls and badass moments, things that merely went in one ear and out the other. Your head was too full for any other thoughts. Right before they went to shower, Bucky turned to you, “Speaking of food, you did eat today, right doll?”. When did they start talking about food again? You snapped back for a moment, taking a second too long to think, giving them the answer without speaking. Both of their features creased with worry, as Bucky gently squeezed your arm. “Sweetheart, you really need to take better care of yourself”, he sighed, soft baby blues filled with concern. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a bigger meal then to make up for it”, Natasha assured the both of you, as she walked into one of the bathrooms. Bucky wasn’t quite convinced, his eyes never leaving your form. “You sure you’re okay?”. “Never been better, baby”, you faked the same smile again, hoping he’d let it go. He huffed slightly, nodding his head, before heading to the bathroom as well.

Once they both finished cleaning up and changing, you all ate dinner together. It was tradition that you’d eat meals together at the dinner table, a normalcy that none of you had ever had before, but one that you all loved dearly. Tonight was different though. Sitting at that table with them only made your stomach churn, knowing that your life was so far from normal, even in this moment. You tried your best to pay attention to them, nodding your head and laughing at their conversation, but it wasn’t enough. “You’ve been awfully quiet all night babe”, Natasha pointed out, turning her attention to you. Bucky hummed, also turning to look at you, “And you’ve barely eaten anything. Are you feeling okay, sugar?”, his voice holding more concern than earlier, eyes boring into you. They both watched you intently, searching for any twitch in your features. You cleared your throat softly, looking down at your plate, “Guess I’m just feeling a bit under the weather. Maybe I’m catching a cold”. You hated lying to them, nothing crushed your heart more. While your focus was on your plate, you missed the furrowed expressions from your two lovers, as they gave each other a silent look of concern. “Well, that just means you don’t get to complain when we spoil you all day tomorrow”, Natasha chirped, turning back to finish her meal. “If you’re not feeling well, you should try to eat a little more, doll. Wouldn’t want that cold to turn worse”. You only hummed in response, nibbling at the food in front of you. An unnerving silence fell over the three of you, one that made your skin break out in goosebumps.

They both walked you to your room afterwards, opting to sleep with you for the night, despite your protests. “But you two will get sick”. “Then we’ll get more time to recover with you”, Natasha smiled at you, rubbing your back comfortingly. You faked a smile yet again, “You’re not gonna accept ‘no’ as an answer, huh?”, you joked, hoping they couldn’t hear your nervousness. They both shook their heads, as you all changed into pajamas, which for them was quite similar to their normal clothes, both of them needing to be ready to get up at a moment’s notice. They turned out the lights, guiding you to sleep in between them. Normally being so close to them would make you feel so safe, but you couldn’t have felt more vulnerable. You stayed awake for hours, waiting until they were both sound asleep.

Once you were sure they’d fallen asleep, you ever so slowly, took your arm away from Natasha’s waist, turning onto your back. You then nudged Bucky’s arm off of your own waist, hearing him huff in his sleep, but never waking up. You shuffled yourself out of the blankets, listening for any movement or change of breath, crawling off the bed with feather light movements. Any wrong step would wake them up, they were both such light sleepers. You managed to get off the bed without either of them ever making a sound, as you crept around your room, collecting everything you would need, mentally preparing yourself for the day you were about to have, preparing yourself for the absolute worst. But this was for them, for your family.

Just as you placed your hand on the door knob, you heard Natasha clear her throat, as your bedside lamp clicked on. Your swore your heart stopped beating, as your forehead collided with the door. “And just where do you think you’re going?”, her voice rang through the silence. There was no way out of this, there were no lies believable enough to get you through your bedroom door. “Just- I was just going out”, you muttered out. “(Y/n), look at us”, Bucky stated sternly. You didn’t want to look at them, at their anger, at their disappointment. You didn’t want them to see your fear, just how weak you looked. Reluctantly, you turned around, keeping your gaze at your feet in shame, pressing your back flush against the door. “Where would you be going at this hour?”, Bucky asked, his voice sounded so hurt, something that squeezed your heart in a painful grip. You didn’t get a chance to respond, before Natasha spoke up, her voice holding even more hurt than Bucky’s, “You better not be seeing someone else, (Y/n)”. With that, you cracked slightly, tears once again glazing over your eyes. Your bottom lip quivered, how could you explain this? You realized that no matter how you explained this, it would end in heartbreak. Natasha scoffed at your silence, “Unbelievable, after everything we’ve been through. After everything we’ve done for you. It’s still not enough”, she spat at you, her anger becoming more apparent with every cutting word. “It’s not like that”, you murmured, feeling a few hot tears burn down your face. “Then what is it like?”, Bucky asked, his voice much quieter than Natasha’s, but filled with so much pain that burst your heart, and splattered it all over your rib cage. Your breath caught in your throat, tears now streaming down your face. You wanted to run and hide. You wanted to go back in time, to make sure you never fucking picked up the phone. To make sure you hung up on him the moment he opened his stupid fucking mouth.

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head, holding back your pitiful cries. “I’m so sorry, but I have to do this. I love you both”, you choked out, turning your back to them, opening the door, almost sprinting down the hall towards the elevator. But you weren’t quick enough, as heavy footsteps grew closer and closer. Two large arms wrapped around you, encasing your frame, causing you to thrash around violently. “God, please, just let me go!”, your voice cracked, as you sobbed, pushing against Bucky’s grasp, but to no avail. “Not until you tell us what the fuck is going on!”, Natasha shot back, her feet coming into your line of vision. She grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at her. You couldn’t help the copious amounts of tears that fell onto her hands, or your shaky breath that threatened to give out at any minute. Her features softened a bit as she took in your panicked look. “(Y/n), this isn’t like you. What the hell has gotten into you?”, she lowered her voice, Bucky’s grip on you never faltering, knowing that if he let go, you’d make another run for it. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I never told you guys about him. I was just so scared”, your voice broke at the end, as your sobs echoed off the walls of the dark hallway. “Him? Who are you talking about?”, Bucky’s voice rumbled against your back. You took a loud breath in, shaking in his arms. “My ex. He said he was gonna hurt you guys. I was gonna leave to go meet him, so he wouldn’t hurt you. I didn’t want him to hurt you guys. I know that he could if he wanted to. I’m so sorry”, you rambled on, closing your eyes tightly, your sobs growing more violent by the second.

Natasha looked up to Bucky, both of their features paling, washing over with worry. “(Y/n), baby, look at me”, Natasha said gently, her grip on your face softening, stroking your tears away. You opened your eyes, barely able to make out her face through your blurred vision. She could see every ounce of paranoia in you. She could see that he scared you, that he had hurt you in some way. “I don’t know what that fucker did to you, but whatever it was, he’s gonna pay dearly for it. No one fucking hurts you, no one hurts my baby”, her voice was quiet, filled with a bitterness that you’d never seen before. Bucky loosened his grip on you, but didn’t let go, instead pulling you into his chest, holding you gently. “Where is he gonna be, doll?”, his voice was cold, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You shook your head, more panic surging through you. “No, no, no, no. You two can’t go to him. He’ll hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you”, you looked at Natasha, practically begging her with your eyes to not go. Her expression never changed, as she stroked your head. “He won’t, I can promise you that. You know we always keep our promises baby”. You nodded slightly, as your crying calmed a bit. “So, can you tell us where he is?”. “He texted me the address”, you mumbled, they both knew the password to your phone, just in case of emergencies. She gave a quick, soft kiss to your forehead, before heading back to your bedroom to find your phone that you had dropped when you ran.

Bucky hugged you closer to him, rubbing his hands over your arms, rocking side to side slightly, as he placed his chin on your head. Natasha came back within a minute, nodding to Bucky, as he squeezed you one last time before letting go. “Promise we’ll be back by sunrise, okay sweetheart?”, he assured you, giving you a soft kiss on the lips, Natasha doing the same. You knew there was no way to stop them now, they had their minds made up, you just had to trust them. “Okay, you better come back in one piece”, your worried glance darted between the two of them. They both smirked, a hand from each of them patting your arms. “Don’t worry about us baby, that shit ass ex of yours is the only person who should be worried”, Natasha stated, looking up at Bucky with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Mhm, she’s right. You need to get some sleep though while we’re out, though. Can you do that for us?”. You nodded, you hoped you could sleep, the events of the day taking a toll on your body and mind. They both gave you another kiss, before turning to walk down the hall, “We’ll be back soon baby”. “Sleep well, peach”. And with that, you watched as they both stepped into the elevator, on their way to handle Alex.

You meandered your way back to your room, changing out of your shirt, opting to grab Bucky’s off the floor, along with Natasha’s jacket, wrapping yourself up in both of the garments, letting their scent surround you. Collapsing to the bed, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, your sob session tiring you out more than any recent mission you’d been on. Right before sleep took you over, you spoke up, “Hey FRIDAY, wake me up if something happens to Nat or Bucky please”. “Of course, Agent (Y/l/n)”. As the intercoms clicked off, your world grew dark, a dreamless sleep cascading over you.

You woke up to the feeling of soft kisses being placed on your face, a small hand caressing your side. Blinking slowly, you squinted at the sudden intrusion of light, groaning quietly. Natasha chuckled above you, “Good morning, beautiful”. You hummed, a sense of relief and calmness washing over you. Your lovers had gotten home safely. “G’morning sunshine”, you mumbled tiredly, basking in her soft touches. “As cute as you look sleeping, Bucky’s making us a special breakfast, so you’re gonna have to get up”. Any other day, you would’ve protested against getting out of bed so quickly, but you wanted to see Bucky, to truly know he was okay. You stretched out, feeling your back pop. Nat grabbed your hands, pulling you off the bed, before wrapping her arms around you, giving you a long and loving kiss. You both pulled away smiling, as she kept her arms wrapped around you, walking you to the elevator and down to the kitchen. You leaned your head on her shoulder, letting her guide you to the dining room table. “Hey, hey, look who’s awake. How’d you sleep sweetheart?”, Bucky’s voice called out, as he turned his head around to look at you. “I slept alright, better than I thought I would”. “Good, I was hoping you’d sleep okay after yesterday”, he turned back to the stove, where he was currently flipping pancakes.

Natasha guided you to a chair, before going to help Bucky plate everything, grabbing drinks and utensils. Bucky placed your plate down, the smell making your stomach grumble terribly loud. “Thank you, I didn’t realize how hungry I was”, you let out a soft chuckle, both of your lovers smiling at you as they sat down with their own plates. “No problem, pretty baby. Told ya’ we were gonna spoil you today”. “And you know we always keep our promises”. You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, taking a rather large bite of your food, moaning softly at the taste. “Don’t suppose I want to know what happened to Alex”, you stated, hearing Nat ‘tut’ at you almost immediately. “His name is not allowed in this building anymore, unless it’s to talk out your feelings”. Bucky nodded in agreement, reveling in your content features. “But truly, you don’t have to be scared to tell us if things like that happen, okay? We’re here for you, no matter what”, Natasha grabbed your hand, squeezing it slightly, her face shifting to a more serious look. “You don’t have to tell us much either. It’s okay if you aren’t ready to open up. Jus’ let us know what’s wrong, and we’ll make sure to handle it”, Bucky added, his eyes crinkling with a comforting smile, one that you returned. “I know that now. Gosh, I don’t know what I did to deserve you two”, you gushed, looking down bashfully. “You didn’t do anything, you’ve always deserved to be treated right, baby”. “You’d do the exact same thing for us, doll”. They both looked at you, adoration filling their faces, giving you the sweetest heart eyes you’d ever seen. “Of course I would. That’s what you do for the people you love. And I would’ve never learned that if it wasn’t for you two. I love you both so much, more than I could ever express”, your face flushed as your feelings spilled out. “We love you too, more than you’d ever know”, Natasha spoke softly, as they both kissed each of your cheeks, causing your face to flush even more. You couldn’t have felt more loved in this moment. You’d finally learned what it felt like to give love, and to have it returned back to you, just as greatly as you had given it. Even if your past still haunted you on bad days, you’d always have Natasha and Bucky. And they were better than anything you could ever ask for.

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cathedreal · 3 years

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𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔽𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 ℂ.ℍ

ೄྀ࿐Corpse x Female Reader ೄྀ࿐Genre: Dark Academia ೄྀ࿐Warnings: Mention of: blood, knife + small wounds inflicted, alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, a toxic relationship (not with Corpse) ೄྀ࿐Word count: 3.1K+ ೄྀ࿐Summary: Willow Creek Academy is full of mysteries, or so you find out when you are unwillingly iniated into a secret society with none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Corpse. Secrets are kept, tensions rise high, and you are in the middle of it all. Together with Corpse, you have to find a way to leave the society and make it out alive while staying under the radar when you find yourselves the primary suspects in a murder case.

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AUTUMN, SEMESTER 1

“Where the fuck am I?” you mumble, your voice loud in the silence of the room. Warm skin brushes against your own. It makes you shiver. A blindfold is tightly wound around your eyes and your arms are restrained in front of you, trying to move doesn’t help so you stay seated on your knees.

The air is stifling and you wonder if it’s because of your panicked state or because of the dustiness of the room itself. It smells like spilled wine, cigarette smoke, books collecting dust on the shelves. You wonder if you’re in the academy’s library but you doubt it. The librarian would have never agreed to holding hostages in there, the books were too precious to risk ruination.

Your boyfriend, James, had invited you to meet him under the big oak tree on the campus’ edge in the late evening. You often study there, a red pen between your teeth for taking notes, the grass pricking into your thighs familiarly. James rarely sits with you there to study; he finds the grass stains not worth the peacefulness of the rustling of the wind through the leaves, the birds happily chirping in the background to keep you company. He rather studies elsewhere and you wonder if this was the place he frequents.

You should have realised that when James asked you to meet him there, it was suspicious behaviour. But you had trusted him wholly and now you’re here, on your knees, another person next to you in probably the same position. You wonder if James had something to do with this. You don’t have to wonder for long. The blindfold is ripped away from your eyes and you blink rapidly to get rid of the spots that float in front of them. You don’t see much but hooded figures looming over you dangerously, objects in hand that you can’t quite make out. You glance to the side then and make out curly hair, a collared shirt with a chain dangling against the brown sweater layered above. It glints in the light of the candles surrounding you.

“Sol Omnia Regit.”

“What is happening?” you ask, thrashing around a little in your restraints. A hooded figure suddenly leans close and shushes you. There is a split second where you think you recognise the figure’s eyes but then the person is moving away again, leaving you with a pounding heart.

Someone leans forward again, sticking out a hand behind themselves to signal something. An object is pressed into their hand and then held out to you. For second, you think it’s a knife or a gun, something to kill you with. There was no other explanation for why you were here but some crazy ritual that you fell victim to. But then...

"Drink," the person tells you and a crystal glass filled with a dark liquid is pressed to your lips. Blood? you think but when it’s finally pushed past your lips and tilted so you can’t do anything but drink, it proves to be wine. The bitter taste doesn’t leave your mouth even though the glass does.

Another figure crouches down in front of you then, something long glinting in the candlelight. It takes you a few seconds to recognise the object but it’s unmistakably a knife and it’s inching closer to your bound hands. You look up to the hooded figure in panic and the familiar eyes are back, this time they’re closer than before and you can place them easily. “James?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and shaking. James would never hurt you, right? He is your boyfriend, he loves you��

Does he?

Did he ever?

Your mind races as your hands are tugged up so your wrists can rest in the familiar hand which you hold daily. It usually doesn’t feel quite as malicious, sometimes it does, never with other people around.

The person next to you, Corpse, you’re guessing, is holding his breath when you hold it. He can probably see the knife too, twisting expertly in James’ hand. Without deigning you with a response, James cuts into the palm of your hand and you hiss at the sting, You want to say that it is stupid to cut someone there, the palm of a hand has too many nerve endings and you could do a lot of damage but the deed has already been done.

Your palm is pressed against a sheet of paper with writing that you can’t quite make out and you realise that it is a contract. It’s unethical, you try to protest, you can’t make someone sign something they haven’t read, but you’re pushed back again and Corpse sucks in his breath next to you.

"Welcome to Sol Regnum, Y/N and Corpse. You have completed your initiation."

The lights are turned on and you squint against the sudden brightness blinding you. It takes you a few moments before you can finally look around again, the figures clad fully in black with golden threads running through the mantels they’re wearing finally take off their hoods and James is smirking down at you both.

“My girlfriend and best friend, finally initiated,” he says, opening his arms as if he has just won the greatest victory. It feels nothing like that.

You exchange a look with Corpse, one filled with confusion and worry, before you let your eyes wander around the room. Heavy curtains hang in front of the tall windows, blocking out every possible source of light from the outside. Even the moon can’t shine through. The room is cast in shadows from the now dulled lighting. Your eyes are used to the light again and it is not as bright as it was when someone had snapped them on. The lights have a yellow cast over them, making everyone look just a little bit sick. There are books strewn around the room, the bookcases, which run along one big wall, are all stuffed full so the makeshift piles of books in the corners are there not for aesthetic purposes, but for necessity. Broken busts sit on the floor sadly, some missing a nose, other half of their head. You wonder if it’s a metaphor for something, if the busts represent the brokenness of the secret society you were now initiated in.

Everything is starting to make sense now. How James had often disappeared at night, leaving you alone in his bed, wondering if he was with another girl. How there were whispers in the hallway wherever you went as of late, something you had blamed on your own insecurities haunting you rather than real people doing so. How James had looked at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine and not in a good way. It had felt malicious, like there was something waiting for you that you didn’t know anything about. But he did, he probably planned the whole thing.

Corpse is back up on his feet before you are and he rounds up on James, pulling him into a corner of the room with a firm hand. You blindly follow, avoiding the glances that the other members of this society throw you. It feels like they’re evaluating you even past your initiation. You want to scream at them that you never asked for this, that you didn’t even want to be initiated in a society that you know nothing about. You were forced here but you doubt they would care.

“No warning, nothing,” you hear from the corner. Corpse’s hand is still pressing into James’ shoulder, his other hand drumming restlessly on his thigh. There is a lone cigarette sticking out from Corpse’s curly hair, balancing dangerously on his ear. You step closer, take your place next to Corpse where it usually was next to James. You’re on Corpse’s side in this matter, though, and James can know that, no matter what the repercussions were.

You shake your head at James as he laughs good-naturedly. He is the star of the university, the golden boy, the popular guy everyone wants to either have or be friends with. After a year or so of being in a relationship with him, however, you know better than to trust his charismatic laugh, the crinkle in the skin next to his eyes that solidifies his position as the good guy. There was danger in his smile, a certain sense of disingenuousness in the sound of his laughter.

You step closer to Corpse.

“I agree, James. What were you thinking? You never even ask-”

“Why would I?” James asks and steps closer to you, the shadows casting over his face are making him look like he is the villain of a big play, ready to kill the main character.

Corpse, cast as the hero, places himself in front of you, half-shielding you with his body. Corpse’s hands are shaking next to his sides but he’s still there, back straight, shoulders down, his head raised which gives him the advantage of a few inches over James.

“She’s right, you should have asked if we even wanted this.”

“It’s the opportunity of a life-time! This society will ensure that you will have a good future, something to pass down to your children.”

You let a hollow laugh escape and the both of them turn to you. “We’re rich, James. All of us are. There was no need for a fucking society, we’re ensured a good future whether we even graduate or not.”

James shrugs and your hands clench into fists at his nonchalance. You gasp softly when you feel the wound in the palm of your hand. When you open it again, blood rolls from your fingers and drips onto the carpet, just barely missing your shoes. “I’m going back to the dorms,” you say, desperate to get away from the claustrophobic feeling this room gives you. James shakes his head, though, and you stay in place, waiting for him to come up with one good reason for you to stay.

“The party is just getting started,” he says and music begins playing. It sounds as if it is played from an old record, the scratchiness that you would appreciate in other situations doing nothing but grating your ears. James pushes past you and Corpse both and returns with three glasses of the same wine you were forced to drink just minutes ago. It’s pushed into your hands before you can protest. The other members raise their glasses, their eyes on you and Corpse who twitches uncomfortably next to you. It’s a toast but it feels more like a warning of what is to come.

“Come on, Y/N,” James says and wraps an arm around your waist. You shy away from the touch a little but his grip is hard, his fingertips possibly pressing bruises into your skin. “Corpse?” he adds, waiting for Corpse to hesitantly fall in line next to him. You briefly wish he was on your side instead of James’ but shake it off again. There were more important things to focus on.

James insists that they meet the others but every person you meet is not the type of person you would want to be friends with. Arrogance and coldness roll off of them in waves, sending you the clear message that you’re not wanted here. From the way Corpse barely answers the few questions they have for you both, you realise that he feels the same.

You met Corpse when you started dating James. He is James’ best friend after all, or was, depending on how Corpse feels about this all. He was a little shy when you met him, didn’t say a lot but when he opened up a little, he was charming, funny. Most notably, his voice is low, something that is whispered about in the hallways of Willow Creek Academy. Despite what others say about his voice, to you it’s not weird or unusual, it’s soothing, like melted chocolate. A balm for the soul.

Minutes pass by and as the alcohol flows freely, the inhibitions of people are lowered. There is a couple making out on the couch next to you, hands roaming each other’s body in a way that seems too private to be doing in front of a room full of people but nobody even bats an eye.

Corpse is nowhere to be found for a little while but eventually comes back to the loveseat you’re sitting on, pointedly taking James’s place next to you. “When can we leave?” he asks, sipping his wine. You wonder how many he had but you can’t fault him for drinking. You wish you could stomach it yourself.

“I don’t know, soon, I hope,” you answer and look around. There are people dancing to imaginary music that doesn’t match the one playing, people laughing in corners, hands pulling others behind furniture so they are just barely out of sight.

You hear Corpse curse and when your eyes meet his again, they look slightly panicked. There are manicured hands roaming down his chest for a second before Corpse is standing again, holding out his hand to you in a clear message that you happily read correctly.

Corpse helps you up and let’s go right away, something you unconsciously mourn. You would have liked to have Corpse’s hand in your own for a little bit longer. The touch of someone semi-familiar in a room filled with strange people would keep you from freaking out as you wade through the partying people.

Something in this all reminds you of a bacchanal; wine, freedom, ecstasy. It seems to live in the various people here, even James isn’t untouched as his tie is halfway down his chest when you find him, his body moving close with someone else.

You rarely get jealous but something about this leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“We’re going,” Corpse announces and tries to pull away when James reaches out to catch his arm, he’s too slow. James whispers something to Corpse and you watch as his expression changes. You don’t dare to ask when you are led back outside. Corpse’s expression is thunderous and it only relaxes when he pulls out his cigarette from behind his ear with shaky fingers and lits it.

You watch as the smoke bellows and floats up to the sky in figures you try to form recognisable shapes out of. Corpse passes his cigarette to you and you happily take it, feeling the pressure of an impending migraine disappear a little.

“That was… Something,” you say for a lack of better words. Corpse nods but doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. You both know that it was insane what happened, you’re both scared for what this secret society will bring in the future, you both worry about the contract you couldn’t read in the privacy of your own minds.

Corpse passes the house which holds the male dorms and keeps walking next to you to the other end of the campus. You thank him softly, he nods in recognition. No place is safe for a woman to walk alone and with Corpse you feel strangely safe.

The early autumn leaves crunch under your shoes when you walk, your footsteps loud in the quiet of the evening. Your pace matches Corpse’s, though you feel like he’s letting you set the pace so you can keep up with each other.

The building of the women’s dorm is becoming more and more visible the further you walk down the path. It’s sitting stately behind a lush garden you often tend to in your free time, as do the other girls in the building. It brings liveliness into the place which is made solely out of brick outside of it. It’s an old building, you don’t know for sure what it was before it became a campus but you think it must have been a guest house on the castle grounds.

Corpse walks you to the door and takes a step back when you retrieve your key. You almost invite him up to take care of his hand. Instead you make him promise to take care of it himself.

“What do we do about the society thing?” you ask, stalling a little. You’re scared to be left alone with your thoughts right now. Corpse seems to guess it and leans against the pillar that holds up the front of the house, making no movement to leave.

He shrugs a little and looks off into the distance. You follow his gaze but there is nothing there. “Not much we can do. The contract, though… We need to know what was on there. Maybe we can get out of it.” “I doubt it,” you laugh humourlessly but you nod anyways. “I’d rather see it first than give up immediately. I’m just not sure how to get to it.”

“We could ditch class,” Corpse suggests, a smirk now growing on his face. You know already that Corpse didn’t attend half of the classes that he should but you laugh a little anyways, this time it’s genuine.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble and Corpse’s smirk grows wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A smart one, though. I don’t think any of them will skip classes, even after a party like tonight.”

“What can I say? I’m a mastermind,” Corpse jokes and pulls out his phone, handing it to you demonstratively. You put in your number on automatic pilot. “Text me when you wake up, we’ll decide on a class together then.”

You accidentally leave a smear of blood behind on Corpse’s phone but he either hasn’t seen it or doesn’t care enough to mention it. “I’ll text you,” you promise and open the door fully now.

There is still laughter in the hallways, soft voices that make you relax a little. You suddenly feel bone tired now that you’re in a place that signifies comfort and rest. Corpse notices and waves you inside.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Take care of your wound.”

You watch Corpse walk away and become one with the darkness before you finally step inside. You sluggishly climb the stairs and make your way to your dorm room, an action that takes longer than it should have. You shrug off your coat and drop it somewhere, you’d care about the crinkles you put in it in the morning. You find your first aid kit in the bathroom and pour some alcohol on the wound. It makes tears spring in your eyes but it’s necessary so you get through it on pure willpower alone. After bandaging the wound, you shed most of your clothes and finally climb into bed. You don’t even have the energy to put out the light before you fall asleep, nightmares dragging you down with them.

𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕆ℙ𝔼ℕ:

@headcannonsforlife @katyasrussianaccent @boiled-onionrings @satanhauntedourcats @ravennightingaleandavatempus

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired chapter 10

Chapter 9

After a quick diaper clothes change, Arella was quick to join the brothers at the table, Cyrus tucked comfortably in the crook if her arm. It felt like a normal morning, albeit just a tad quieter. Whether that be due to the events of the night prior or just in consideration of the baby, it wasn’t quite so clear. She took her usual seat next to the place where Mammon usually sat and began to eat. The only one who looked even a little uneasy was Levi likely due to how he felt about having been the one to suggest last night’s movie.

They all spoke casually amongst themselves as they ate, multiple of them having to stop Beelzebub from consuming the food that had been set aside for Mammon as the demon in question joined them shortly after. It had taken him a while to find clean clothes, realizing he really should do his laundry soon. It had probably been a good two or three weeks at least since he’d washed anything. With everything going on, he just didn’t have the energy lately. Thank the celestial realm for his human helping him out with his school clothes.

All their heads turned to him as he joined them at the table, a round of ‘good mornings’ rang out and he returned them. Two asked how he was feeling after last night, the rest carried on with their own side conversation figuring he didn’t need to answer the question four times over.

As breakfast came to a close, Arella took her leave to feed Cyrus once more and Mammon returned to his room to gather up his dirty clothes and begin the process of doing his laundry. Thankfully, it was the weekend which would give him enough time to have all five of his school uniforms ready to go while also not hogging the washer and dryer all day.

“Man, I gotta start doin’ my laundry more often...” The Avatar of Greed sighs. “The amount of clothes in here is ridiculous.” He hefts the basket of clothes into a more comfortable position in his arms and carries them down to the laundry room.

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“Mammon, do you want to go shopping with me?” The Avatar of Lust chirps as he catches up to his brother while he’s working on switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer, “I need a new outfit for date night tomorrow and I’m sure you could use a shopping spree too considering you haven’t really gone out to spend or visited the casino lately. Even last night, when the three of us took the baby out, you didn’t even buy anything. You know what happens if you let your sin build up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just gimme a couple hours to get a couple more loads done. I’m kinda runnin’ outta clothes to wear.”

“Alright, three hours good?”

“Three hours is perfect.” The white haired demon says as he loaded another round of clothes into the washer. “Thanks, Asmo.”

The strawberry-blonde demon only nodded as he headed off.

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“Hey, Mams... Can we talk for a minute?” Levi asks as he approaches his brother.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes before I go out with Asmo. What’s up?”

It takes Levi a few minutes to speak. “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have screened before we watched it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Ya said you had never seen it before and wanted to watch it with all of us, right? And you were so excited ‘bout it, so it’s fine.” he shrugs.

“But it wasn’t fair to you...” The Avatar of Envy frowns. “We shouldn’t have even watched a horror movie to begin with. I know you hate them but you still watch them with us anyway.”

“’Cuz I know you all like them so I jus’ bare with it for the time being. Y’all are my brothers, so I just want y’all to have fun even if I suffer for a bit. Y’know what you always say about me, I’m a masochist through and through.” He smiles, hoping to make his little brother feel better. “I don’t blame ya, so don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?”

The third-born only nodded, feeling minimally better after finding out the second-born didn’t blame him for what happened.

He ruffled Levi’s hair as he flashed him a smile. “Alright, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too,”

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As the pair of demons walked down the street, Mammon was distracted. He was lost in thought as he thought back to the conversation he had with Arella. He thought about telling Asmo as even though Arella had told him she was comfortable with everything they had done together but he felt like she was telling him a half-truth just to spare his feelings.

“Are you alright, Mammon? You’re not as talkative as usual... Mammon?”

“Huh?” blue to gold gradient eyes look to his brother. “Yeah, I guess I’m alright. Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’...”

“Care to share?”

Mammon considers this for a few moments, deciding maybe he should tell his brother about what’s on his mind. “You can’t tell a soul about what I’m going to say, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” The demon says in a sing-song voice, “You have some good gossip?”

“It’s not gossip, Asmo. You absolutely have to promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Asmo’s eyes widened at his brother’s words and the serious tone in his voice. “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

“Arella told me something last night... She told me she was...” He’s not sure he can say it but thankfully Asmodeus seems to get the message.

“That’s horrible. How did it happen?”

“A quote unquote boyfriend drugged her drink when she was sixteen.” The demon has an irritated look on his face. “The bastard was twenty three, like who seeks out a teenager like that?”

“Boyfriend?” The Avatar of Lust has a disgusted look on his face. “Sounds more like a predator to me.”

“Right?! It makes my skin crawl just thinkin’ about it.” He exhales, “She’s such a good person and some monster takes advantage of her and does that?! If I could get a name and a face, I’d absolutely destroy him. The worst part? She blames herself for what happened, for making a mistake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asmo frowned. “Considering how the human world treats women- she may very well have been told it was all her fault- especially as a minor? I don’t know what her family was like but to end up with that mindset, it’s very possible she didn’t have anybody to for her what we’re doing for you.”

Mammon only frowned at that. “Yeah and now I feel bad for pushing so hard. She said she wanted all that but I feel like she was only sayin’ that just to make me feel better. Is that wrong of me?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so... You love her so it’s only natural that you would worry about having forced her into a situation she didn’t want. But I also don’t think she would lie to you just to make you feel better. Can you remember a time where she’s ever been disingenuous with you?”

“No...”

“Then I think you should take her words at face value. In all actuality, I think she only told you because she wanted you to know you weren’t alone and she knows what you’re going through.” Asmo smiles as he pats Mammon’s shoulder. “And if you’re still worried about it, think of it this way: As long as you had a resounding ‘yes’ at all times from her, then you shouldn’t worry about whether or not you forced her to do it. Or you could do the adult thing and actually talk about your feelings as scary as that may be.”

Mammon only rolled his eyes at Asmo’s comments.

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The pair got home later than intended. As they split up, the Avatar of Greed made his way up to his room. Everything seemed to be fine, there was no baby crying and the house seemed at peace until he got to his room. He tossed his bag into the closet and slid down the railing on his staircase. That’s when he heard it, a small sniffling sound.

“Treasure?” He called softly as he approached the bed, placing a hand on the ball of blankets that his human had buried herself under. “Hey, look at me.”

A soft ‘no’ was heard from under the blanket followed by a ‘I’m alright, don’t worry’ which had the opposite effect on him. So, he just made himself comfortable beside his mate, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. When she was ready to talk, he would listen and if the baby monitor went off, he would do all the work tonight. It was the least he could do since she practically took care of their son on her own around the clock when he couldn’t even look at the child for the first few weeks.

He rubbed his thumb over her stomach in a motion that was meant to be comforting. While not exactly what he wanted to do, their position didn’t grant him much elsewhere to rub if he wanted to keep his arm wrapped around her, he hoped it would have the same effect. They just lay together in silence for a time as her sniffles slowly came to a stop. She was so quiet, Mammon thought she might’ve fallen asleep until she moved her head from under the covers and slowly turned to him, allowing him to move his hand to her side.

“Wanna talk about it?” The demon asked as she shook her head in response. She cried regularly for others but she wasn’t much for crying when it came to herself and when she did, it was often over nightmares she wouldn’t tell him about. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. I don’t like to see you so upset and not be able to do anything to help you, Baby.” It was an offer he hoped she would finally take him up on. She only let out a sigh as she moved closer to him and he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so selfish last night...” She catches his hand in hers and just holds it to her cheek. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No...?” The Avatar of Greed wracks his memory from last night, trying to think of anytime she could have been selfish. “When were you selfish?”

“When I told you I had been assaulted...” Her response only leaves Mammon more confused. He hardly considered that to be selfish at all. She was only trying to reassure him everything he was going through was normal.

“How was that selfish?”

“I made the situation all about me when it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”

“No you didn’t? ‘Rella, Baby, you get to talk about your feelings and things that have happened to you too, y’know. Everything’s not always about me. Actually, it was kinda validating to know you understand what I’m going through.”

“No, I don’t. I just want to help but I always bring things back to me some way or another. My problems aren’t important. They’re not a big deal. I’m just attention-seeking and being selfish a-and-- mmph!”

He couldn’t take listening to his human, his treasure, bring herself down like that anymore, choosing to silence her with a kiss instead. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes, glossy from her earlier tears.

“Do you know what an amazin’ person ya are?” he asks as he rolls them so he’s leaning over her, “You get to talk about these things. Your problems matter. You're not bein’ selfish or attention-seeking when you talk about them. Hell, for somebody whose primary sin is greed, you’re probably the most selfless person that I know. You are patient ‘n kind ‘n giving. You do way more than anybody asks of ya. You give so much love and don’t ask for anything in return for it. I don’t know who the fuck put those thoughts in your head but ain’t none of ‘em true, got it?”

“It.... It was my mother....”

———————————————————————-

Find more on my Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

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imanes · 2 years

Note

Hi imane! I hope all is well <3 i wanted to ask if you read anything by haruki? Ngl i feel like a fraud sometimes when i know i shouldnt lol. I like reading! I do, but sometimes i dont read at all and i read random things? Like if someone were to ask me oh who do you like or what do you read? I would go mute 😭 like idk? I read whatever. But then i see ppl talk in depth about what they read and im like. I literally forget what i read the moment im done w it. I struggle w my memory tbh i have the same w tv shows and such, i can tell you it was good but i cannot tell you what it was about cause I forgot jwjddkdk sigh. But haruki has been interesting me and kafka too but like. It seems too difficult for me. Idk if any of this makes sense but thanks if you read it all 😭♥️ nonetheless i love reading about your recommendations on here and i admire your brain and intelligence sm!!!!

hey babe! if by haruki u mean haruki murakami i gave his fiction a fair shot and put down every single book i picked without completing it bc it was making me both angry AND bored which in itself is quite a feat. but if it intrigues you why not! i detest his writing but so many ppl adore him so i've made my peace with the fact that my opinion is definitely in the majority and at the end of the day it's fun to have different opinions bc otherwise how do we have interesting conversations? :)

to touch upon another topic of ur message i don't think that to be a "reader" u have to absolutely read this or that book, i think it's counterproductive and counterintuitive. only posers think u absolutely HAVE to read specific books to be "respectable" as a reader and like noah fence to people who identify as that kind of book snob but the act of reading makes you a reader nothing more nothing less and making their whole (pretentious) personality about "reading The Books™ that matter" is so unappealing. so u go ahead and read whatever tickles your fancy atm babe! i think selecting books at random is charming and proves that u have a very curious and open mind. my brother once bought this book that was like "100 books u should read in ur lifetime" and i find the intention behind that kind of list so disingenuous akfjlgk it can be a good starting point to see what grabs ur attention but trying to complete the list just for the sake of it? i don't get it. also if smt seems difficult u don't have to read it now, like before this year if someone asked me if i wanted to read a russian classic i'd be like "i don't have the brain capacity" and i legit didn't but now i trust myself more to appreciate these books for what they are but it took me time to build the right frame of mind for them. picking a book at the right TIME is super important imo, it can change the whole experience. so if kafka sounds appealing to u i think u should go for it, and if after 50 pages u don't feel comfortable continuing there's no shame in putting the book down.

also about remembering things i am literally in the same boat as u like unless it's about books that i spoke at length while reading them i don't remember that much about them and i'm actually terrible at naming favourites on the spot akjdkflg for a while i was relying on my goodreads shelves to provide a proper answer as to what my fave books are and after repeating the list so many times some of them actually clung to my mind but listen we already have a lot of thoughts to tackle our minds are already full a list of books is very trivial!

thank u for ur message and ur kind words babe i hope ur literary path is filled with amazing books that speak to u, even if just for a little while <3

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domjaehyun · 2 years

Note

Hahahaha…no but seriously. Mark. Hnnnggg his voice is so sexy. His moans are probably… wow he’s sick. He has a sexy voice and HE KNOWS IT. I KNOW HE KNOWS! SLUT!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

NO FR FR FR HE . i was thinking abt this earlier like . in OK! specifically, i think that when it comes to The Iconic Line and how they all deliver it differently, i think that i wasn't even ranking mark #1 for his pronunciation, nor do i think i even actually considered Pronunciation very much bc like . i ranked jeno over yangyang for that line but yangyang sounds much more fluid speaking english than jeno so clearly that's not the criteria i was going for kdgfskj

it was like . edge factor + charisma i think? like mark sounds Like A Rapper. He sounds LIKE A RAPPER it was SEXY i can't do this o hmy g od he sounds so hot saying that line . maybe its not abt like whether they pronounce the words "right" but his accent and speech pattern DEF plays a factor for me... like...

(under the cut, you will find a Very Long rant i went on about mark's rapping style vs. other members' rapping styles and quite a few other slightly tangential topics... apologies...)

i attempted to bold and color the parts of mark's line that just make his delivery my personal favorite, but as you can see.... i pretty much did the whole... thing... rip. anyway:

MARK: "my baby says she wanna dance with a ghost, she wants to leave me, uh" >> LIKE. okay . okay . not even just this line but his "YEAH" right before the line . he sounds like . Right . like he doesn't sound silly at all he's SELLING IT like do i know what that shit even means? NO!! BUT I'LL BE DAMNED IF HIS BABY DIDN'T SAY SHE WANNA DANCE W A GHOST!! AND SHE WANTS TO LEAVE HIM!! UH!! like there's so much charisma in his delivery and he raps LIKE A RAPPER. (or at least far more like a rapper than . other idols that come to mind)

there are a lot of idols who are "rappers" but are not Rapping. johfam, i'm sorry, i'm coming for him for a second. (edit: so by "a second," it turns out i meant that i was gonna keep bringing him up... apologies) have y'all seen that post that's like "johnny raps like he's reading the periodic table" or smth? bc THEY'RE RIGHT!!! LIKE THEY'RE SO RIGHT !! yes, johnny is fluent in english just like mark, but . they deliver their lines so differently.

i think that mark likes to experiment with his voice and see what he can do which is SOOOOOO fun and sexy i love that he's not just trying to Stick To His "Thing" like he wants to grow and do better and that's soooooo sexy and attractive oh god... but like, mark, to me, does have a bit of an advantage when it comes to rapping bc he DOES speak with a more, like, "urban" speech pattern than, like, johnny. who's from the suburbs in chicago. mark lived in QUEENS like he . he sounds Edgier if that makes sense... there's a nuance to the way he stresses sounds and pronounces certain syllables that, to me, feel Really Natural and fitting for, like, rapping.

ppl have def said before that mark's speech pattern borders on a blaccent at times, and i'm not even refuting that; if ppl hear it, then they hear it, yknow? who am i to tell them what they do and don't hear? but like for the most part, i personally don't think he has a blaccent–when i think of those like non-black tiktokers who feign a blaccent and a rly like "hood" persona, it feels really disingenuous and disgusting, tbh bc like . even if you Grew Up Around Black People... i'm willing to bet the black people you allegedly grew up with were NOT talking like that dsjfghdkl (also how the specific brand of white "hood" girls on tiktok all talk the exact same....yet are from entirely different areas of the country....yet got their accents from living around black people.... but black ppl from baltimore don't sound like black people from louisiana, so what's up w that, babes?)

BUT LIKE okay back on topic: sometimes, when tiktokers like the ones i just mentioned, the ones that make disgusting and reductive caricatures out of what they believe to be "Black Culture," are getting gathered by ppl in their stitches and duets and stuff, there are nonblack people who put these weirdos in their places. and these people say they grew up around black people, and You Can Tell !! they don't have a blaccent, they're not forcing anything at all, but there is a specific way that they've picked up on and been influenced by the speech patterns of the black ppl they grew up with !!

i think that, to me, mark seems more like he rly did just have more like... black influence growing up? i'm not saying he was invited to The Cookout or whatever but i think that he was more likely than, say, johnny, to be exposed to ppl of diff backgrounds (not by much,,, in like person,, except for the time where he lived in NYC, which he did for 5 years during a time in human development where we learn a Lot From Our Peers) and like . he's always liked rap music, y'know? so he most likely listened to rap music (which is a Black genre...like it was created, developed, popularized, AND most successfully done by black people) and started picking up on the way they spoke !!

like okay quick sidebar: i have never not attended PWIs. i was socialized for the majority of my life, especially my most formative years, around rich, mostly white girls who were the daughters of socialites. there were other non-white students present, ofc, but we all . for the most part . spoke very similarly . so much so that, like, when i'd go to summer camp or smth and interact w kids whose socioeconomic and racial backgrounds were actually more similar to mine than my classmates but had been socialized to speak/behave differently (note: this is in no way a bad thing. i just want to make that abundantly clear.) and like !! it was a bit of a culture shock for me AND them !! it also took me time to, like, get used to it bc i didn't speak the way they spoke, y'know? so i started learning to code switch and with time i developed a way i spoke At School amongst My (preppy/rich/usually white) School Peers and a way i could speak in more comfortable settings around not-rich, not-preppy, not-white peers!! but that kind of language development is Learned and Developed, yknow? sometimes i'm not even aware that i'm slipping more into, like, AAVE when i'm talking to my mom, and she's like Oh??? what does that mean??? and i'm like "oops." so there are terms, obviously, that black people use, but there are also certain like . ways to pronounce things that differ depending on your background !! i have elements in my speech pattern that sound very like . i rly cannot find the right term rn but i have like two different influences for my speech pattern and they're both very different, but if i pay attention to myself when i speak, i tend to use elements from both speech patterns in, like, the same sentence dgfkjslkf SO. TLDR: language and speech patterns are very much developed and are fostered by the community that you grow up in as well as the media you expose yourself to.

ANYWAY back on track . as someone who i think had more black influence in his upbringing than, again just to keep the metaphor going, johnny, i think mark developed a speech pattern that, in some ways, echoes how some black people speak !! but i also think that MY upbringing has a lot to do w how i receive mark's rapping lines as opposed to johnny's or smth. mark's speech pattern is far more familiar to me than johnny's, i think, and like... because he sounds more like What Rap Music Artists I Know sound like than johnny, i'm like, yeah, that sounds good, that sounds right, that sounds familiar !! mark has a much better sense of how to stress certain syllables and manipulate certain sounds because i think he grew up with rap music far more than johnny did and was probably around more ppl of different backgrounds !!! like––again, no offense to johfam, i come in peace––johnny raps like a suburban dad at a barbecue reading off the instructions on how to work the grill. to me, he doesn't deliver the lines...he just says them. mark, imo, delivers his lines and, like, seems to make more of a concerted effort to sell it, yknow?

now, to be fair, i think that mark is at an advantage compared to johnny bc as we can see, he gets way more lines and opportunities to practice and improve himself. i feel like if johnny was given as much attention by,,,,, idk the producers? coaches? the music team? you get what i mean hopefully sdfgkhdf,,,, as mark has access to (or even, like, a fraction of their time, yknow?) i bet he could at least be coached more on, like, How to deliver certain lines and i'm not even saying he has to Sound "Black" or even Sound Like Mark; i'm saying that there are times when he's singing/rapping or smth (in english bc i am only able to critique his english delivery obvi) where he says smth and i'm like . Suburban Dad At A Barbecue.... they could at least give johnny pointers on how to kinda ease off of that affect he uses ??? idk ??? bc there are def artists in the western rap industry that don't rap the way i'm "used to" or the way i'd expect... like lil dicky !!!! i mean this so genuinely: lil dicky is a super entertaining rapper and i think he's very talented !!! i think that, though, he has a Very Unique rapping delivery that isn't common and also isn't really very compatible for, like, featuring on other people's songs. lil dicky's THING is like "hey i'm kind of a corny/dorky white dude but i can rap!!" and like. yes you are and yes you can king 💖 but lil dicky's style of music would be out of place in Another Rapper's style, but he could invite other rappers to his style. for example like his song w snoop dogg called professional rapper !! lil dicky's audience KNOWS how he sounds already; they're expecting that sound from him, and they know it's different than "typical" rappers! when snoop dogg is on lil dicky's song, it's bringing in, like, what we more typically expect from rap music (snoop dogg) which contrasts with what lil dicky does!! i'm simplifying a lot bc i am realizing how much i've written and i'm aghast tbh so . if you want me to elaborate on the following analogy, just ask!!

more traditional sounding, "cool" rappers: snoop dogg, mark lee

less traditional sounding, "uncool" rappers: lil dicky, johnny

when SM gives 127 songs with rap parts, they are 100% always aiming for sounding more traditional sounding, "cool" (why do you think we hear words like "ethnic," "urban," "street," "hip-hop" all the time? i'm not saying i agree w their word choices, i'm just pointing it out to clarify my point) in their songs.

when mark raps his lines, he is being a more traditional sounding, "cool" rapper. his vibes are consistent with the sound they're aiming for. when johnny raps his lines, he is being a less traditional sounding, "uncool" rapper. his vibes are inconsistent with the sound they're aiming for (to me; i feel like their production team prob doesn't 100% agree bc like . they're obvi still having him do what he does, y'know) so if their production team wants a more traditional sounding, "cool" sound, then they should coach johnny (as well as other members who get rap parts on their songs) how best to fit the sound they're looking for... does that make sense at all?

(also just while i'm thinking abt it: this can apply to jaehyun, too !! he def has had some rap moments where i was like Baby, Let's Not Do That, Actually... (think dancing in the rain) bc he sounds, at times, more similar to johnny's "style" than he does to mark's, ig. but i think that not only is the SM production team wising up, but also jaehyun is improving!! bc they're not giving jaehyun the same kinds of lines they'd give mark or johnny, rly. they give jaehyun lines where he can talk fast, he can speak low/deep/huskier, kinda be "sexy" when rapping? kinda like whisper-rapping (think abt bring the noize) and/or somewhat melodic sing-talking rapping (think lemonade) and etc. so !! i'm not just coming for johnny i promise i rly am just using him as an example !! i think SM's production team is essentially trying to fit a square peg (johnny) into a round hole (edgy/"cool" rap lines) and it really doesn't seem to be working, at least to me. i think SM should figure out, like, what they want johnny to Do and what he's Best At and what he could Improve On. bc i'm gonna be real, his lil monologue in favorite (vampire) was NOT it. at all. it was the mark tuan-ification of johnny suh (if you don't know what i mean, check out this song by got7; if the timestamp doesn't work, go to 2:30-2:40...yeah.) and i was not a fan at all in the slightest dfsgjsdlk)

OKAY I'M RLY WRAPPING THIS UP IT'S RIDICULOUS THAT I WENT ON FOR THIS LONG esp bc like . you poor, poor soul, anon... i'm so sorry you didn't ask for this at all kdjsfgkljdfk BUT IN SOME SORT OF SUMMARY: there are obviously very different, distinct ways and styles of rapping and people are naturally going to have preferences and opinions !! i just think that sometimes SM's production team attempts to Do Too Much in some of their songs... they could either help/coach the members whose voices don't quite fit the vibes they're going for OR they could compose songs and parts that DO fit these members' voices !! i don't want it to seem like i'm over here going "give [insert member] more/less lines!!" bc i'm not !! i just want SM's team to like...play to their strengths... and either accommodate or hone each member's individual charm so they all get an actual genuine chance to put their best foot forward y'know? don't try and combine, like....uh.... glazed donuts and ranch dressing to make one very odd, potentially icky dish... find separate recipes where we can make use of the glazed donuts AND we can make use of the ranch dressing. hhhHHHhh yeah okay i think i said my piece finally...

anyway....i went on SUCH a long rant holy shit i'm sorry that's my bad dfgsdf I BLAME THE ADDERALL I TOOK EARLIER IT MAKES ME VERY VERY VERY CHATTY.

#answered #anon #literally i am so sorry for how long this response is #you awakened smth in me ig bc . all of this came out......#🧍🏽‍♀️#i don't rly have anything to say for myself ... this is truly My Bad #now if i could just word dump in this WIP document.......like i did here...... hhhhh #okay fr now i'm gonna answer my newer messages as quickly/concisely as possible then i'm gonna go ahead and capitalize on...#this wordiness i am feeling atm...

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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

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a03 tag game

I stole this from @catboyadamparrish bc I want some of y'all to play with me here!

---

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

50! (holy shit, that's half of 100)

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

549,342 words (jfc)

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On Ao3, just two. I started the fanfic life writing Hanson fanfic back before most of you were born. (*bones creak ominously*)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all of these are Teen Wolf fics, which makes sense since they've been on Ao3 for 5-6 years.

Can't Be Seen Alone (teen wolf fic)

Mating Moons (teen wolf fic)

Alpha and His Good Boy (Teen Wolf)

Oh, what a nice surprise! (Teen Wolf)

Sterek Song (Teen Wolf)

***Also going to post the top 5 kudos in the fandom i'm currently active in bc why the fuck not? If Vlamis has taught me nothing, it's be shameless in your self-promotion. LOL***

Can I Stay? (RNM fic)

Like A Hearse You'd Die To Get In Again (RNM fic)

A Working Title (RNM fic)

Michael Guerin is a Grower (RNM fic)

Kinktober 3 (RNM fic)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

Yes and no. I respond if I think I have something to say? Or if my brain is letting me. I want to be the person that responds to all comments and responds to all fics I read, but (esp with responses) I tend to drop the ball a lot. I just feel like sometimes I sound disingenuous saying the same "thanks for reading and commenting!" over and over and over in my comments section? like it's an auto-response and someone else looking at that might be like "oh, well they never really comment back, they just like thank you and go" and i don't want anyone to feel like that? Like, better to just stay silent? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's my anxiety and depression talking. LOL. If I haven't responded to you, it's not because I don't appreciate your comment, it's because I don't know what to say besides Thank You. But Thank You. Seriously. Keep responding to fics. It sometimes is the only thing that can keep my fingers moving over the keys.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh uhm... probably either Wash the Guilt and Longing from His Limbs or you are the reoccuring kind. (damnit, now I'm singing that stupid Bright Eyes song again. Hello angst my old friend)

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I don't! And I don't usually read them either? I think people who do write them are amazing, but I like my peas and carrots not to touch? I dunno. They've just never appealed to me. (That being said, I like AU's based on movies/books, but I just don't want Elizabeth Darcy and Elizabeth Ortecho to hang out and be friends?)

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven't! (Thank God) I see other people who do and I'm always flabbergasted why anyone would take the time to read something in its entirety just to yell that they didn't like it? There's a back button, my dude. There is an exit button. There is free will and all that. Curate your own fandom experience. If you don't wanna see things that upset you, then quit reading and find something you do wanna see?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No! Or at least if I have, I'm not aware of it.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No I haven't! I don't even know how that works, tbh. Like, part of me would like to try and part of me is like.... scared of being the Bossy One in a group project.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Malex. Followed by pynch and then sterek. TW became such a shit show by the end it kind of tainted my love for them.

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Hanson!

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Next question... Oh wait, we're finished!

I'd like to tag @pastelwitchling, @pippsmcgee, @thep0rnfairy, @im-the-punk-who, @lambourngb, @jocarthage, @flightspathfic, @malzysaur, @stayextrafrosty

#ao3 stats #sterek #pynch #malex #meme answers #someday i'm going to write pynch #just teen news #no one will read it #but i'll love it

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title.

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once.

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually.

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer.

To Killian’s chest.

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover.

With her, especially.

She closes her eyes.

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes.

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite.

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that.

Stupid, really.

“I told you that I get it; what you did today, and that part’s definitely true. But, uh, the rest of it. That I would have done the same thing? Total lie, right? I mean, I did it. That’s what happened.” Nothing. Just flickering flames and the quiet hum of a TV, neither one of them has been interested in actually watching all night. Emma doesn’t even know what channel they’re on. For all she knows, the remote’s in the kitchen.

She counts inhales. Tries to keep her exhales measured, most of her face still pressed into the collar of Killian’s shirt as it is. And it takes about five full seconds before his hand moves, starts tracing a calm line up her spine, following that path until he reaches the base of her neck and the goosebumps that have already exploded on her skin and oxygen is overrated anyway. Holding her breath as soon as his fingers card through the ends of hair is basically instinct at this point.

“Felt wrong to point that out at the time,” he mutters, “all things considered.” “Been kind of a long day.” “Reuniting with long-lost relatives will do that.” Scoffing is not the best reaction. Nothing about this is funny. Includes far too much death and dismay, and Emma’s gaze flickers up. Of its own accord and something much deeper, like the absolute refusal to accept a world where he does not exist.

Goddamn Captain Hook.

She loves him so much sometimes she thinks she’ll simply burst with the force of it all.

It’s a gross thought, honestly.

And they’ve already spent far too much time in the hospital today.

“Is he ok? Li—” Cutting herself off, Emma grits her teeth, but one side of Killian’s mouth is already tugging up, and the kiss that lands on her forehead is as soft as anything. Maybe bursting isn’t so bad, actually. So long as she can come up with another word for it. “God, that’s so weird.” Killian hums. “Indeed.” “Thoughts, feelings, et cetera?” “Vast. And none of them particularly pleasant.” “Seems fair. That sort of day, huh?” “Indeed.” They need more blankets. Need more things that are theirs in a collective sort of way, but that’s a dangerous and disingenuous train of thought, and Emma’s fingers twitch towards the fire. To ward off the sudden chill that’s settled between her shoulder blades, and it almost works, but it does absolutely nothing to help the sway of her stomach and the acid lingering in the back of her throat, threatening to burn far more than what these meager flames are able to do.

“Should have finished high school,” Emma mumbles, “then I could choose more accurate verb tenses from my inevitably vast vocabulary. Did. Have done. Would do again, several thousand times over.”

“That’s the future tense.” None of his words come with any kind of pointed emotion, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see the tightness that lingers in the corners of his mouth and the way he’s holding his shoulders, straight as a line, and some joke about rigging that she no intention of making, and the furrow between his brows makes every muscle in her chest twist. Ache too, for good measure.

With the promise of everything she wants to say and everything she hasn’t or can’t and—

Fuck magic, quite honestly. And the rules no one’s bothered to mention until now. Seems like poor planning on everybody’s part.

“You heard me.” “I did,” Killian agrees lightly, and his hand has never actually stopped moving. It’s nice. Steady. Something Emma can almost nearly time her breathing too. “I would also choose that particular tense. If given the choice, that is.” “Do you not think you have that?” “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. I’m rather partial to the option of whim, you see. Pirate and all that. We don’t much abide by schedules and fated decision.” “Seems like it’d be in the by-laws.” “Well, by-laws by their very nature are rather contradictory to the entire pirate notion, but you’ve got the gist of it at least.” Emma laughs. Doesn’t quite regret the sound, even as out of place as it is — just presses it into the edge of Killian’s shirt and the buttons he never bothers to do, trying to brandh the smell of him and the feel of him into every corner of her memory and she’s not really sure what happens after. Once the prophecy is fulfilled, and all that.

She’s got too much unfinished business.

To totally leave this particular plane of reality.

She doesn’t mention that either. Not when the crux of that business is breathing steadily under her hand, and Emma can’t remember when she moved her hand, only that Killian’s warm under her touch, and he’s always so much warmer. Than just about anything else she’s aware of.

“I thought you were dead.”

Of all the things Emma expects to happen in the midst of this night and this moment — and it’s really not a very long list, admittedly — that did not even make the cut. Wasn’t a consideration or a fledgling idea in the back of her mind, several different vertebrae almost audibly objecting when she jerks her head up. To find Killian staring straight ahead, lips not much more than a thin line across his face.

Seriously, the rigging jokes almost write themselves. Which is more than Emma can say about her clearly piece of shit list, as metaphorical as it might be.

“I don’t—” “—When I saw you,” Killian interrupts, and none of the words shake. Come out like a stream of consciousness and memories neither one of them have able to shake yet. Or talk about. Can’t possibly be healthy. “Chained to that stone, blood dripping into my mouth, and then all of a sudden, there you were. Worried I’d simply dreamt you up, couldn’t imagine how you looked quite that lovely in that hell hole, otherwise.” “Oh, that’s kind of insulting, actually.” “Hair like the bloody sun.” “Better,” Emma murmurs. Reaching up, her fingers tangle with the charms around his neck. Pieces of luck and trinkets she hasn’t learned all the stories to yet. The idea that she won’t makes her nauseous. “You told me ‘you shouldn’t be here.’” “Aye, and I meant it.” “Because you thought…” “Living people don’t often appear in such a God awful place, do they? Not without something tragic happening, and my mind was impressively efficient on that front.” “Which one is that?” “Every threat that’s ever lingered, every person I would have gladly run through if it meant you were safe. Half of goddamn Camelot.” Emma might snicker. Killian’s arm tightens, though. And that’s all she’s really worried about. “I think I could have taken Arthur. Y’know if it had come to that.” “Likely not a very good swordsman,” Killian nods, but that’s only so his lips can trace Emma’s temple and the top of her hair. More than once. Like he’s still making sure. “Pampered prince—” “—He was totally a king, babe. That’s like...the most basic Camelot knowledge.” “Ask me in five minutes if I care at all about anything to do with Camelot.” “Should I time it, or…” He scoffs. Presses another half dozen kisses to any spot he can reach, and he can actually reach a fair amount of places. Emma’s impressed. Swooning too, but also pretty impressed. “I kept thinking about you,” Killian says, softer than the last few words have been, and it sounds like an admission and another promise, and it’s weird that it can be both. At the same time. “This house. What it was and wasn’t. All those possible verb tenses.”

“I’m sorry.” “Ah, that’s not your fault, love. None of this is, really, but—well, it did make it so seeing you, realizing you were there...left all of those thoughts crashing down around my ears, so to speak. Falling apart, like an avalanche of what hadn’t been and what I still wanted so desperately. No matter what Hades did.” “Stupid stubborn.” “I believe there’s something about a pot and a kettle in this realm.” “Don’t have that cliche in the Enchanted Forest, huh?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Maybe you just didn’t go to a good college.” “Tell me every Greek word you know,” Killian challenges, and Emma rolls her eyes. Ignores the first few flutters of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. “It didn’t seem fair.” “Which part?” “All of it is also rather vast, but mostly that if you were there, then it happened again.” Narrowing her eyes, Emma tries to piece together those letters and the syllables they make, only to be marginally annoyed when she can’t make sense of them. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose.

She might have to go get Tylenol soon.

“Losing you without fighting, without challenge the goddamn reaper myself, was worse than anything He could have done,” Killian continues, and he doesn’t have to be more specific. “Worse than whatever pain I’ve ever suffered. Cut off twenty more limbs; it wouldn’t even come close.” “Do you have that many?” “Your humor lacks a little something; you know that, Swan?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” He noses at her hair. Drags the soft hum of what could very well be either an agreement or the opposite, or maybe even the sort of deep-rooted understanding that’s allowed him to sneak his way into the center of everything, across her skin. The specifics don’t matter, only that Emma’s magic roars under her skin, an inferno, and a symphony, meeting the challenge that no one has really laid down yet.

“Do that again,” Killian mutters, a low chuckle as Emma’s scratches at his side.

“I’m not sure I can, honestly.” “Pity.” “Something like that, yeah. And you’re not totally right, you know?” “Ah, and that’s almost rude.” “I’m serious,” Emma says, “that’s—none of that was your fault either.” Tilting his head only ensures that several strands of hair he still hasn’t bothered to cut fall almost artfully across his forehead, and Emma is grateful to a variety of gods, Greek or otherwise, that Killian doesn’t mention how much her hand shakes. When she tries to brushes them away. His hook finds her wrist instead, cool metal against freezing cold skin, and the state of her tongue is going to be a problem. Large as it is in Emma’s mouth, making it all but impossible to properly swallow while Killian’s lips sweep the bend of her knuckles.

“Charmer.” “Aye, that’s my endgame.” There’s not enough room between them for him to run his hand across his face like Emma knows he wants to, and part of that isn’t really a bad thing, but the rest just seems like another entirely unfair thing, and Emma knows the rest is coming. Makes tears burn her eyes all the same. “They were just...gone, you understand? No chance to do anything about it. One moment they were living and breathing. Then Liam was dead. Slumped in my arms in the corner of a cabin he was supposed to spend the rest of his career in. He—he would have been a very good captain.” “So are you,” Emma says, fierce and determined, and Killian kisses in the inside of her palm. She’s moved her hand again. To cup his cheek.

“For a time, maybe. But then she was gone too, and I thought I could feel it, you know. The exact way her heart crumbled in his hand, tiny bits of dust that I never wanted to blow off the deck. Like some of her still managed to stay. Is that—” The muscles in his throat move, jaw clenching, and Emma has to blink. She hopes the moisture on her cheeks isn’t tears. She’s not sure what’s a better option, really. “Must sound daft.” “No. I—I get that too.” “Do you?” “Not the only one who’s watched Rumplestilskin hold the heart of someone you loved.”

He can’t be holding his breath. His chest is moving much too quickly, but the burst of air that all but flies out of Killian is enough to ruffle the ends of Emma’s hair and possibly even dry some of the tears she’s still refusing to acknowledge, and she can’t get closer to him.

She makes an admirable effort all the same.

Like occupying the same few inches of space will ensure that she stays there.

“Did you—” Killian starts, looking almost pained as the words war for his voice on the tip of his tongue. “Did you like her?” That didn’t make the list, either. It’s entirely possible that Emma is just garbage at making lists. She nods. “Anyone who loves you as much as I do is fine with me. Better than, even.”

His expression shifts again. Light lingers in his gaze, cautious hope, and misplaced optimism, gears whirring in his head that Emma can’t almost convince herself she hears. Her verb tense was on purpose that time.

That’s a confidence boost, all things considered.

“She was something fierce,” Killian says, sounding reminiscent and not as sad as Emma has worried he must be. “Once she got away from him. Could get a grown man to do her bidding with a single look, the kind of glare that’d set you on fire from the inside out. It was—they loved her too. Men on the ship, would have followed her to the ends of the Earth if she’d asked. Probably even if she hadn’t.”

His next inhale becomes an exhale almost immediately.

“She never would have asked,” Killian adds, almost entirely to himself, but then his eyes are back on Emma, and they’re a little glossy and just as blue and she’s holding her breath now. “She liked you too, I know it.” “I think she thought I was crazy, actually. Gold didn’t really have much tact in the...introductions.” “Ah.” “Right?” “Right,” he echoes, a pale imitation of her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks ache. From smiling. Legitimately smiling. Huh. “But I suppose that’s part of it, though. She was there again, and I—” “—I’m sorry. For...for all of it.” “Still not your fault, love.”

“How did you know?” she asks, and her voice doesn’t sound much like her either. Wobbles and warbles and some other word that fits the alliteration. “About me. And not being…”

“Dead?” Killian’s eyebrows jump. “Strawberries.” “Excuse me?” “That soap you use in your hair. Smells like strawberries, or strawberry adjacent maybe. Manufactured just a bit. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world.” “Backhanded compliment.” “No, no,” Killian shakes his head. His hair moves again. “It’s not. It’s—well, it’s you, love. Smells like everything that you are and—”

“—I’m manufactured?” “If you let me finish,” he chides, and Emma all but yanks her lips behind her teeth, “It smells like home. Smells like falling asleep next to you and a distinct lack of blankets.” He nips at the tip of her nose. She scoffs again; that’s why. “And your distractingly cold feet, and leather jackets, and how the smell clings to the collars, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve worn them. Lingers on your pillow too, and the fronts of my shirt. You fall asleep against me quite often, you know that.” “Can sleep anywhere,” Emma reasons. “Might be my greatest talent.” “I don’t know about that.” “If I call you charmer again, will you hold it against me for lack of synonyms?” “Tell me how charming I am again.” Emma scrunches her nose. “Now it sounds like my dad.” “Let’s leave the prince out of this. He’s only a prince, aye?” ��Far as I know, yeah.” “Good, good. Strawberries, love. Touching you helped too, though. If we’re being frank.” “Anything except blunt force honesty seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Killian nods. Slow and measured, like anything else will snap this tenuous peace, and maybe they can just sleep on the couch. Getting up is an impossible prospect right now. Maybe they can make out a little before they fall asleep.

“It’s a very big house,” Emma whispers, and they should really figure out a schedule for conversations like this. Talking about it all at once is exhausting.

“It is.” “You don’t want to expand upon that?” “Oh, I want a great number of things I shouldn’t,” Killian admits, “but as much as I appreciate this fresh round of honesty we’re engaging in, the false hope would—” “—There’s no such thing,” Emma interrupts. “False hope. It’s an oxymoron, ask my mother. And I think you should get some sort of crew again.” “How would you suggest I populate such a thing?” She shrugs. Nearly hits Killian in the chin in the process. “Untold stories. Dwarves.” “I will not have dwarves on my ship.” “See, I knew you’d have opinions. And there was a possessive pronoun in there that time.” “Was there not before?” “No,” she says. “Just called it the ship. Like it’s not the most important thing you have.” “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s cheeks warm. “That was very smooth.” “Someone did guarantee I was a very good captain earlier.” Space continues to be relatively minimal between them, but Killian’s nothing if not adaptable, and he works with what he’s got. Swinging Emma’s legs perpendicular over his, she’s nearly sitting on his lap, an arm slung over his shoulders, which makes it even easier to get her fingers into his hair and his head to rest against hers, and he takes another deep breath. “I know you understand, Emma,” he says, soft and serious, and she doesn’t bother doing anything except cling to him. With everything she’s got left. “All of it, from the very start. So I don’t think I’ll apologize, actually. For what I’ve done, or what I’d still be willing to do. I won’t give up on you, do you understand me?” “Didn’t,” Emma says, only a little optimistic that’s the right verb tense. Maybe she can get her GED, or something. Before all of this ends. “In Camelot, or after. Accept or acknowledge, and I probably would have—”

Announcing that killing Gold for what he’d done to Killian regularly crossed her mind in the twenty-four hours or so before they finally made it to the Underworld doesn’t really have the right sentiment for this conversation. Far too violent, and just as honest.

She’d consider killing him now, too.

For everything he’s doing, and everything he hasn’t, and she should have shoved him in that river.

Killian doesn’t smile. At least not in a way that reaches his eyes, the same ones that are looking at Emma again, all blue and earnest, and his shoulders shift. When her fingers graze his chin, more than stubble there because, she imagines, spending a day or so underwater with a sibling he only sort of wants and kind of knows doesn’t leave much time for facial-type grooming.

It’s a good look, though.

Most of them are, in Emma’s experience.

“This entire time,” she continues, “you haven’t given up on me yet.” “Works both ways, darling.” “That one crosses realms, huh?” “Pick up things spending so much time with you.” There’s nothing extra in the words. No sap-filled sentiment or promises she’s only a little hopeful will become actions. And they haven’t talked about the rest; might not even have time, but Emma will let herself think about all these empty rooms anyway, of the exact shade Killian’s eyes go when he stands at the helm, and she hopes he doesn’t cut his hair. Not yet, at least. Longer strands make it easier to touch him, to leave a lasting mark, and settle into his center the same way he’s taken root in hers.

They fall asleep on the couch.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #laura writes canon #force characters to talk 2k4ever #also remember when i wanted to write about killian not getting to see milah in the underworld?#have some of that here too #just for fun

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stomp-that-ho-regard · 3 years

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I typically don’t do asks (I've only ever gotten a few), but a recent one got my gears turning and I wanted to reply.

(This is a secondary blog, so I can’t answer asks in the usual way.)

Your post about the retcon is so fucking good, I wish every critter saw it and actually thought about how shitty it was done, but then their belief in the cast and show would probably start cracking.

Thank you for liking the retcon post. I’ve seen various people in the tags thank me for making that post and have said that it’s helped them ‘feel less insane’. None of us are insane. We are not delusional. We didn’t experience a mass hallucination. These things happened, and they’ve been thoroughly documented. Hundreds of hours of material over the course of three years.

The people who should read that post won’t ever see it because I have all those assholes blocked lol. If they did manage to find it somehow, I know they would just mock it, as they’re wont to do with any of our criticisms. They’re so far up CR’s ass, they’ve convinced themselves that a retcon didn’t happen. Even shoving the literal definition of the word in their faces wouldn’t wake them up.

It's just so fucking weird to see how the group is acting now, and I'm pretty sure we're never gonna get a Laura&Marisha episode picture and a TM episode with those 2 for the rest of the campaign. It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore🙄 it's the same fucking pattern and like you, I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this on a d&d show.

I specifically want to address the “It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore” because I’ve thought about that pattern too. (Not so much with Marisha/Laura ‘cause them being on TM together is already a rare combo. If they don’t appear much or at all going forward, I don’t think it’s because of this, though it really wouldn’t surprise me. But, I have been thinking about that specific pattern in regard to their characters.)

I can make a comparison between this situation and what happened with the show A/gent Carter and the way the ship Cart/inelli was handled.

I know that might sound weird, but stay with me here lol...

I want to make it clear that I’m not comparing the relationships at all. Cart/inelli did not have nearly the same amount of build-up and depth as Beaujester, (or quite frankly, their level of possibility.) What I am comparing is the creators over-the-top reactions to these characters being shipped so hard and the extreme measures they went to in order to ‘remedy’ that.

The ship included P/eggy Carter and A/ngie Martinelli. The show was set in New York. Angie was a waitress (who wanted to be an actress/be on Broadway) at the diner that Peggy frequented. They ended up talking quite a bit and became fairly close. That ended up kind of becoming the core relationship in the entire first season, and LOTS of people started shipping it.

At the time, no one was calling us crazy or delusional. At most it was, “This is ABC! They’re not gonna pair her with a woman!” and of course the obligatory “But Peggy’s not gay!”. But no one was calling us names or being generally cruel. And anyone who tried it was ignored because everyone else drowned them out. The ship became extremely popular on Tumblr and Twitter. Both actresses were very positive and supportive. They regularly liked/retweeted romantic Cart/inelli fanart on Twitter. Even one of the female writers on the show got behind it too. It was asked about frequently at conventions and no one booed or rolled their eyes. The questions were never dismissed or made into a joke. (Honestly, this was one of the better overall fandom experiences I’ve had on here.)

And all of us were super excited for S2. Not just because of all the support, but because they had ended S1 with Peggy and Angie moving in together. Peggy had purchased, either it was a really fancy apartment or house (my memory is fuzzy on this), and she literally asked Angie to stay with her. Needless to say, that fueled the flames even more.

But despite the actresses and at least one writer being on board, between S1 and S2, something shifted.

Clearly, the showrunner and/or the execs, took a look at all of this and deemed it a ‘problem’. When S2 finally came around, suddenly everything was different. Instead of both of them living together in New York, instead of it being an organic (I’m beginning to hate that word) continuation from where they left off, Peggy decided to move to Los Angeles to do work for some agency out there or something, and Angie stayed in New York. It’s never explained why. It’s never explained why a woman who so badly wanted to be an actress would NOT want to go to LA, where Hollywood is. LA was never mentioned in S1. There were no hints that Peggy might want to fly out to the West Coast at some point. She seemed perfectly happy in NY, basically setting up house with Angie.

And they didn’t even ease into the change. They just got rid of the character. The actress was bummed about it and Cart/inelli fans tried to put pressure on the showrunner/writers to bring Angie back, which the actress completely supported, but even that fell on deaf ears. So, Angie was simply no longer an entity on that show. Conveniently removed. All the excitement we had was crushed. And of course, the second that Peggy got out to LA, she suddenly had a very obvious male love interest. What a surprise.

The showrunner/writers were not subtle about what they thought about our ship and us. They made the most extreme, nonsensical writing decision in order to permanently separate these two characters. Because, hey, that’s the only way to get the shippers to STOP, right?

This was what I was reminded of when I started seeing the turn that post-hiatus CR was taking. It ended up being a weird combination of kneejerk erasure (BJ) and heavy-handed overcompensation (BY).

But of course, CR is not a TV show, it’s D&D. And they can’t force one of their PCs to just disappear, so what do they have to resort to? Not interacting.

We all know how severely neutered Beau and Jester’s general relationship has become. It’s clear to me that both Marisha and Laura felt they had to do that. They had to suddenly have their characters stay away from each other as much as possible so they could prioritize Fjord and Yasha, and speed-run into romances with them. They started acting as if either of them giving the other one ounce of affectionate attention (like they had been doing so often and so naturally before), would be breaking some sort of hidden ‘relationship code’. Almost like if they ever hugged again, the studio would go down in flames.

The very obvious fact that they went to these lengths, to me, proves two things...

One, it proves the retcon even more, because you can tell that the way they behaved with each other DID in fact change. The frequency of interactions and the way those interactions would play out. Whenever they interact now, it seems like they’re trying to keep it as short, thin, and almost comedic (to the point of goofiness, and not in a good way) as possible. Their engagement seems half-assed and dull. The sounds of their voices, their facial expressions... completely sanitized. Even all the physicality they had is gone; the touches, the hugs, the cuddling. Every single aspect is different and they absolutely did that intentionally. This had to happen because they needed to dupe the viewers into believing that despite overall interest waning, their threadbare connections to Fjord and Yasha are more important, and were always more important then their connection to each other, that we all watched them steadily build. (And watched them pick up steam from about ep70 onwards.)

And two, that whole intentional decision to cut themselves off from each other, proves to me that their interactions pre-hiatus were indeed tinged with ‘something extra’, that was more than just friendship. They both recognized it and that’s why they pulled back so hard. That’s why soft touches and hugs and cuddling are no longer ‘allowed’. That’s why quiet, heartfelt conversations are no longer ‘allowed’. Because if there was absolutely nothing there, if they didn’t see/feel any romantic chemistry simmering underneath, and it was all just platonic BFF stuff, why would they suppress their behavior so drastically?

I think that all of this really does cement what I said in my retcon post: That there are disingenuous patterns being used here that I’ve seen far too often in media. In A/gent Carter, it was a character separation, in CR it was a character dynamic separation. Both done on purpose, to make the shippers shut up, and to push a different plot.

One is scripted, the other is unscripted, but the situations feel disgustingly similar, don’t they?

#op #ask #long post #i feel like i'm just retreading old ground here #still cathartic though

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

the band with no name {Douglas Booth} Part 3

A/N: 3050 words. Is this good? i genuinely don’t know.

[PART 2]

----

“I’m not getting a tattoo,” Douglas tells Colson flatly on Friday, still using his Nikki accent, arms crossed in between takes. They’re milling around on the Starwood set for the band’s first gig, and Douglas is in a pair of bright red, plastic boots with a considerable heel, that come all the way up his thighs, and pinch his toes. He’s already in a mood, he doesn’t need Colson’s shit-eating grin.

“I never said -” Colson tries, but he’s still grinning, can’t help himself.

“You implied,” Douglas frowns, shifting his weight on his feet. It didn’t help, “I’m not just going to show up where she works and pretend like I’m going to be a customer, that’s- it’s disingenuous, man,” the English accent slips out a little, but he corrects himself quickly, “and it’s stalking.”

“It’s not stalking -”

“It is if I’m not going to actually get a tattoo,” Douglas raises his eyebrows, watching as Colson spins idly on his drum stool.

“Fine, I’ll get a tattoo, and you can come for moral support or whatever,” he shrugs.

“Still kind of sounds like stalking,” Daniel adds from the edge of the stage, where he’s patiently sitting while a makeup assistant applies fake blood to his cheek. Beside her stands Jonah, the production assistant, diligently holding the bottle cap full of red liquid she was working from. They share a quietly amused look before Jonah glances at Colson, and the woman goes back to work.

“He’s not wrong,” Jonah agrees, and Colson throws his head back with an exasperated groan.

“And Corey said he’d personally skin you if you got any tattoos during filming,” the makeup assistant reminded him. Colson swore under his breath, scowling at the memory, but conceding defeat.

“When’s her gig?” Iwan asked from where he’d been sitting on his amp, texting and drinking water.

“Saturday,” Douglas said with an immediate smile. Thankfully no-one was looking at him enough to call him on it.

“Where?” Daniel asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Around,” Douglas answered evasively, expression souring almost immediately.

“Is that a club, or...?” Colson asks, trying to be discrete where he was pulling out his phone. Douglas kind of regrets roping any of them into this.

“Where she’s playing doesn’t matter, because none of you are going, okay?”

“Come on, man, don’t you trust us?” Said by Colson, trying his best to pull off puppy-dog eyes in his Tommy Lee costume and hair, is the absolute last thing that would help Doulgas trust him, or any of them.

“Absolutely not,” though he’s smiling a little at their antics.

“You’re the one who wanted our help,” Daniel throws over his shoulder, and the makeup assistant tells him to stay still.

“You assholes couldn’t keep your noses in your own business; I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“They’re playing Casa Cristo at ten tomorrow night,” Colson announces, blatantly ignoring Douglas, whose whole expression has scrunched into something sour by the time Colson looks back up. He holds out his phone, showing off a photo of your band with the date and time superimposed over it, “it’s on their story.” He says by way of explanation.

“How far away is that?” Iwan asks, and the makeup assistant pauses, and looks to Jonah.

“Fifteen minute drive?” She asks, and they confirm with a nod. Douglas’ dawning horror is kind of funny to watch.

“Have a little bit of faith in us,” Iwan said, with as much of an apologetic smile as he could manage.

“You,” Douglas looked to him, “I have mild faith in; you’re not the one I’m worried about.” At that, both Daniel and Colson make noises of outrage at the implication.

“I’ve been helping you!” Colson exclaimed, betrayed, and Douglas gave him a sidelong glance.

“And honestly, you were doing great at it until you suggested I should find out where she works and get a whole tattoo just to spend time with her.”

“I never suggested -!”

“You implied!”

During the entire car ride to your gig the following day, Douglas strongly contemplates sending you an apology in advance. Literally everyone in the car, including Jonah, who was driving, and the makeup assistant, Ally, who’d tagged along because she’d become invested after they’d filled her in on the fake-band deal, tells him it’s a bad idea.

“We’ll be fine, there’s nothing to apologise for, we’re not gonna helicopter parent,” Colson teased, trying to pinch at Douglas’ cheek, though he slapped him away.

“That kind of shit is exactly what I’m afraid of,” Douglas warned him, pointing a stern finger at him.

“We’ll hold him back,” Daniel says with a half smile; he’s been trying to act less nosy and more trustworthy since yesterday, apparently taking Douglas’ words to heart.

“We’ll try,” Iwan grins, as if momentarily possessed by the spirit of Mick Mars, about to watch his bandmates cause havoc and do very little to stop it. Why was Daniel the one Douglas had been worried about again?

Anyways, nosy bastards the lot of them.

Casa Cristo is already thumping with music by the time they all arrive, fashionably late at ten thirty, all still sporting the remnants of their makeup after filming had wrapped for the day.

When they walk in, AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long is just beginning, and you’re on stage, backlit by the LED parcans you’d brought to add a little something extra to the performance, sculling a pint of water like your life depended on it while the other two thirds of your band’s trio played through the opening of the song.

“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean; she was the best damn woman that I’ve ever seen,” you leaned into your microphone with a sharp smile as you looked out at the crowd and the dancefloor.

Like always, you’re a sight to behold, in black ripped jeans this time, and a shirt that was more hole than fabric, showing off your fancy bra beneath. There’s what looks to be a leather jacket in a heap beside your bass amp, and you’re rocking in time with the beat as you play your bass.

“That her?” Ally asks over the music; everyone nods in confirmation, “she’s hot as hell; you’ve got good taste.” Douglas can’t help his smile as he moves to the bar to order a drink. The song leads into I Was Made For Loving You by KISS, and then Cum On Feel The Noize, after which the set came to an end, and you promised to be back. The guitarist stops you before you head into the crowd, and the two of you talk in low voices for a moment before he points directly at the gaggle of actors sitting to the back of the room.

Your expression lights up when you spot them. Douglas pretends his heart doesn’t leap at the sight. Jonah head to the courtyard to smoke, joined by Daniel and Iwan, while Ally had headed to the bar, leaving, thankfully, only Douglas and Colson.

You head to the bar first to get a drink, but once you have, you make a beeline for them.

“The band with no name, back again; I don’t know if I should feel flattered or threatened,” you grin, bright and sincere as you say it, joining them at the table they’d commandeered. You’re a little sweaty from rocking out, shining and a little ethereal in the dim club lights.

“We’re scoping out the competition,” Colson grins, titling his glass to you to cheers, which you comply with happily.

“I think that means we have to play some Crue to show you how it’s done,” you answer in kind, shifting your weight on your feet, turning to face Douglas, “how about it? Think I could show you a thing or two?”

“I’d say it’s a good thing Nikki Sixx was busy if it means I get to learn a thing or two from you instead,” Douglas hears himself say, and for a single instant, he’s terrified he’s blown his cover. Your mouth falls open in flustered shock, and your eyes go wide, something pleased amid the surprise in your expression. Colson is holding very still in an effort to not draw attention to himself.

Suddenly, you duck your head, muttering that he’s far too kind, unable to look him in the eye. When you finally do manage to regain your composure, you ask if he wants anything to drink, gesturing to his mostly empty cup.

“It’s fine, I can -” he tries to save you the trouble, but you insist that it’s no trouble.

“You can buy me one later,” and okay there’s absolutely no way to miss the flirty tone of your voice. Douglas really hopes the lights are hiding his slight flush, because he knows they’re absolutely not hiding his own pleased grin.

As you head to the bar, Colson lets out the breath he’d aparently been holding, eyes wide and grin wider as he looks at Douglas.

“What?” Douglas snaps, still feeling the heat in his cheeks.

“That was smooth as hell, my dude,” Colson tells him sincerely, and Douglas lets himself be a little smug.

“You know I do know how to chat up a girl, right?” He asks, and Colson raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Never said you couldn’t.”

“Just took me a bit to figure out Y/N; I’m not bad at it when I kind of know who I’m talking to.”

“Not bad a it?! Fuck, man, that was a bullseye; she’s literally buying you a drink -”

“Who?” Daniel asked, rejoining the group, alongside Ally, who was nursing an espresso martini.

“Turns out Doug’s actually got some game,” Colson smirked, though Douglas just rolled his eyes.

“Of course he has,” Daniel said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “look at his face; that jawline’s got more game than half the guys in here.”

“And the eyeliner,” Ally added with an appreciative nod, which Daniel agreed with easily. At least they were being supportive. By the time you come back, Ally’s trying to reapply eyeliner to Daniel’s waterline and he’s concerned that she won’t be able to see what she’s doing in the dim light and will poke him in the eye.

“I’ll poke you in the eye on purpose, stop moving!” She yelled, his chin held tight between her fingers. You placed the drink down in front of Douglas, slotting easily into the space beside him, agonizingly close, almost touching him but not quite. You watch with confused amusement fore a few moments before Ally finishes up with a flourish; she seems surprised to see you there, and does a double take.

“Y/N,” you offer with a smile, holding out your hand, “are you the one responsible for their eyeliner? Because I must say, I definitely appreciate it,” you grin sharply. Ally shakes your hand after capping her eyeliner and shoving it back in her pocket.

“Ally, and yes, I’m the band’s stylist,” she lies easily, and your eyebrows raise.

“That first gig’s going to be something spectacular if they already have a stylist,” you muse.

“We have a name now too,” Daniel adds, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes from where they’d been watering from the makeup. You make a noise of intrigue, and Douglas buries his face in his free hand, “The Fourskins.”

“The Fourskins.” You say tentatively, as if trying to hold back laughter, leaning in just enough that your shoulder was touching Douglas’s.

“Because there’s four of us and we play without shirts,” Colson adds, and Douglas chokes on his drink momentarily. If you ever end up watching The Dirt, you’re probably going to end up throttling them all for thinking that this was at all subtle.

As it stands, however, you just nod, and turn the name over in your mind, finally declaring that it works. It’s not long before Iwan and Jonah come back with your drummer in tow, and as soon as your saying hello to the other two, you’re being called back on stage.

“This next one’s for you guys!” You called over your shoulder with a grin as you’re slipping through the crowd towards the stage. The six at the table all chattered amongst themselves, trying to guess which song you’d play; Kickstart My Heart, Take Me To The Top, and Live Wire were all pretty far at the top of the list. After a brief chat with your band, however, you’d turned your bass back on and leaned into the microphone, giving a very distinctive laugh.

And you start to play She Goes Down.

“I think I love her,” Colson snorted, a sentiment which was echoed by both Iwan and Ally, while Douglas tried to keep his composure, which was a struggle with what your voice was doing and how your body was moving to the almost syrupy bass line.

“Flat on my back she goes down,” your eyes flutter close at the bridge, practically making love to the song with your voice going low and seductive, “for backstage pass, she goes down. With all of my friends, she goes down. She gives heart attack, she goes,” you croon, your eyes opening as a grin spreads across your lips and you slam into the final chorus.

The idea that Motley Crue wrote so much about sex had never exactly registered for Douglas, it was just kind of the done thing back in the hair metal scene. It seems like a good majority of songs were either about sex or drugs or both, and but hearing the recording, he’d never been fully aware of the suggestive power of the songs until this moment. Maybe it’s the difference between knowing Nikki Sixx now in 2018, and hearing and seeing you in 2018 sing it live that makes all the difference.

Because he’s trying desperately to commit your entire performance of the song to memory.

“Nikki and Tommy would fucking love this,” Colson adds, to almost universal agreement as the next song began.

The night is joyful and exuberant, and much to Douglas’s surprise, you seem to be spending most of your time between sets with him and the other actors, though judging by the other’s reactions, he shouldn’t be so surprised.

“She’s into you,” Ally told him bluntly, the two of them together at the bar while the others were outside in the cool night air. She spoke to him as if speaking to an idiot, which he resented, “why are you surprised she wants to spend time with you?”

“I’m just...” and he sighed deeply, “I’m just worried that me or one of the guys is going to slip up somehow, and she’ll only want to be around me because of the movie.”

“I don’t think she’s like that,” Ally said softly, patting him on the shoulder.

“And I don’t know her well enough to be able to agree,” Douglas admitted; for all that he liked you, he still wasn’t quite able to discern how you’d react to him playing Nikki Sixx in the band’s upcoming biopic. He didn’t even want to bring up the film for fear of you connecting the dots.

“Then get to know her,” she suggests, as if it’s that easy.

Somehow, having confirmation from Ally that you were into him was easier to believe than from the guys.

After you’ve played your final song for the night and said your goodbyes to the crowd, as the crowd’s chatter grows louder, though some are already moving on to a new venue. You coil leads and haul amps around with the speed and efficiency of someone twice your age, so focused that it’s almost mesmerizing.

The rest of the cast is making plans to move on, but as you’re taking the last of your things out to the station wagon outside, he knows the only way he’ll be able to see you again without being chaperoned by one of his nosy friends is by asking you out.

You’re out by the car, guitar case in one hand, holding the passenger door open with the other, talking about something with the drummer who was waiting in the driver’s seat. Then you spot him through the glass of the pub doors, watching with hesitation, and you smile at him warmly. You stow your guitar case in the back seat of the car, amid milk crates of leads and microphone stands, and make your way to the door.

As Douglas steps outside, he hears the drummer call ‘I’m leaving in five, with or without you’ but you ignore him.

“Great show, as always,” Douglas smiles, letting the door close behind himself, giving the two of you a modicum of privacy.

“But you’ve only seen us perform twice,” you say with slight hesitation.

“And you’ve been consistently good,” he points out, and you’re grinning again, all bashful and pleased, contrasting your fuck off attire, “can I ask when you’re free this week?”

“You certainly can,” you rock back on your heels, eyes shining, “it’s what I came over here to ask you, actually.”

“My uh, my day job’s kind of weirdly scheduled, so it’d probably be easier for me to work around you,” he admitted, and your eyebrow rose, intrigued.

“Day job?”

“It’s complicated,” and thankfully you didn’t pry.

“Well, my band rehearses Tuesday and Thursday, but I’m free during the week after five thirty; do you wanna grab dinner some time?” You asked, hopeful. Douglas’s lips curved into a smile and he nodded.

“I’ll check my schedule tonight and talk to you tomorrow, how about that?”

“Sounds like a date!” You enthuse, and make a step towards the car, but Douglas can’t help himself.

“I enjoyed She Goes Down, by the way,” he says, and when you turn around your smile is sharp as knives as mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure you did, and I’m sure you will,” you wink at him, “we’ll see how the date goes.”

He watches you leave, his whole face amusingly red as he tries not to dwell on your implications, and he realises that you may very well be the death of him. Not that he’s complaining.

#Douglas Booth #douglas booth imagine #douglas booth x reader #mgk #colson baker #machine gun kelly #iwan rheon #daniel webber #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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radramblog · 3 years

Text

Rating the letters of the alphabet

I feel like part of my style of comedy is just rambling about shit and making loose connections between things as part of an overall bit. I think. I’m no expert on myself, unfortunately.

The inspiration for the following absolute load of shite is trying to search Tiermaker for nothing. Like, no characters in the search bar. Didn’t come up with anything. Did a search for just a space. No dice. What about just a? Surely that’ll bring up everything with an A in the title. But it didn’t, and I was somewhat disappointed.

Then my head started writing bits about letters and that’s how we got here. This is probably really stupid, but maybe it’ll at least be fun. Wordplay is cool, though maybe not my strong suit? Anyway.

A: A is one of the two letters that’s also just a word, as you’ve just seen, giving it a necessary promotion in rank. Not a lot of things get to double up like that, though with the “an” ligature maybe it’s actually a double or nothing. But because of the confusing common connection crossing contexts for the character, it gets somewhat awkward to talk about the letter in conversation. An A, in my opinion, A does not get. 4/5.

B: B is also just a word letter but unlike A when you write it out you have to stick a few extra letters on to make it work, making it not as good. But B’s association with bees isn’t enough, because in the year of our lord, like, 2019 or something, it would become inextrixably linked with shite memes as the B emoji became king. And I just don’t respect that. It’s otherwise a fine letter, dragged down by its company. 2/5.

C: Oh come on now, the word doesn’t even have a C in it anymore! You can sea the see without any of our tertiary letter’s involvement whatsoever. Not to mention how its two main sounds are just copies from other letters wholesale. C must be confusing to non-english speakers, I’d imagine. C as a grade gets what C as a grade typically entails for many a schoolchild. 3/5.

D: It would be remiss of me not to give a sterling grade to the D. Why, none of us would be here without it. While many a youth may find the D to be quite a humourous subject, I assure you I’m taking it with the gravest of sincerity when I say the D has got to be one of the best letters of all.

And by D I mean deity, of course. Wait, what did you think I meant? 5/5.

E: The absolute absurdity that is the E meme elevates E efficiently enough to excel beyond many another vowel. However, it is also the single most common letter in the English language, going so far as to open the damn name. It’s to the point where someone made a point of writing an entire book without using it, and I think Gadsby is cool but mayhaps avoiding fifth uncial was a bit showy. I can’t help but mark it down for the sake of hipster cred. 3/5.

F: F is for Fuck. I like the word Fuck. F is for paying respects. I think the military-industrial complex has poisoned our cultural landscape to the point that a reference to one of its most prized productions’ awkward moments has become one of the most colloquially used meme letters in existence, And That’s Terrible. 3/5, I’m conflicted.

G: Man literally who the fuck cares about G. What is it even good for. Just an absolute waste of a letter, total shithouse. It’s NATO equivalent is Golf, the Worst Sport, too. Who asked for any of this? Just use a J instead, it’s cooler. 1/5.

H: I’ve seen “Hhh” used enough times in written forms of pornography to not consider it a Horny Letter. That and it, being short for Hentai, is often used to denote adult material in Japan. Basically what im saying is, I think this gets worse the less sex-positive you are. 6/9.

I: I think I’ve said enough about letter words already, but I is another high-tier one because like A I is just it’s own thing. It can also, however, be a bit confusing, looking just like an l a lot of the time, and having to constantly capitalise it is a pain in the ass. I also don’t have a particularly high opinion of myself, so a high opinion of I seems disingenuous. 3/5.

J: Clearly the best letter, hands down. I’m definitely not biased. There are so few letters as underappreciated by J- a fact many a person who’s had to do that “assign yourself an alliterative adjective” icebreaker game has had to reckon with. Because it appears to be a lot more popular with names than with words, and that just kind of sucks. 6/5.

K: K has in some circles managed to bump off its partner to become yet another letter word, though in a very informal abbreviated sense. However, when you’re looking into scientific fields, eventually said partner returns, having lost some weight on the trip down to absolute zero. This all makes complete sense in my head, and I’m sure is a lot less funny to anyone who doesn’t live there. 4/5.

L: I’d argue that L doesn’t cop its namesake. It’s a really useful letter, loads of words use it, especially in pairs, and my ADHD-brain thought it was fun to just say LLLLLLLLLLL for a bit while I was thinking about this so I guess that’s staying in now. Put me down as an L Lobbyist. 4/5.

M: Mmmmmm. M&Ms. But also it’s kind of a pain to write. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. 3/5.

N: I’d like to fight whoever decided we should have two letters that sound so similar right bloody next to each other in the alphabet. Actually, who the fuck even decided the alphabet’s order to begin with? Maybe it should go M to N, that’ll bloody show you. 2/5.

O: Our fourth vowel, and perhaps one of the underappreciated ones. O is similarly a letter word, but a much more common one considering its use as an interjection. It’s also one half of a very powerful letter combo, as we’ll see. 4/5.

P: There’s the other half. Many a joke involves OP as a phrase, whether it mean overpowered or original poster, and the letters’ adjacency is a lovely bit of serendipity. Whenever I say P out loud, on its own, I have to resist the urge to do some incredibly shitty beatboxing, which may or may not be a good sign. 4/5.

Q: I was going to write some very harsh words about Q, and its dependency on U, but then I realised that that is probably hate speech against the disabled. It still sucks, though. 0/5.

R: R is the one I am most struggling to think of things to say about. R is another letter that’s just kinda there. I’m sure the Roberts and Rachels of the world would disagree with me, though. It’s also the name of a program that I know has traumatised a lot of young biologist wannabes, slapping us with a whole pile of maths and statistics when we just wanted to look at cool plants and shit. Or in my case, cool cells and shit. 2/5.

S: The most overrated consonant, but also the thing that makes plurals not a pain in the ass. However I’m going to lean towards giving S a positive rating, if only because it’s associated with snakesssss (and serpentine characters who can talk) and I like those. 3/5.

T: I don’t think T gets enough credit as one of the pillars of the English language. A lot of very common words feature it, and yet it feels like it never gets the same level of credit as big shots like S or half of the vowels. T is like the character actor of the alphabet, is basically what I’m saying. 4/5.

U: Ah, the letter Americans hate for some reason. I think this is actually commentary on the history of American politics. Because throughout history, America has been extremely selfish and self-centered, while attempting to present a positive image that people are finally seeing past. They only entered WWI and WWII when it was convenient for them, they started wars and initiated coups in even their allies for petty ideological reasons, and they’ve gone to war with several countries and funded wars with several others seeming just for shits and giggles. Because apparently if you’re not an American, then you’re not one of them, and that means they hate U. 4/5.

V: I actually think V is underrated. It’s a fun sound. That’s it, no joke here. It’s neat, I like it. 4/5.

W: This may come as a shock to you, but double-u over here is actually two Vs! unless you’re writing in cursive, but fuck cursive. The French actually have it right on this one, naming it double-v (pronounced doobleh-vay). Add in the fact that it’s literally just M upside down, and you’ve got a pretty shite letter. 1/5.

X: There’s a reason literally every “A is for Apple” thing you see made for kids uses Xylophone for X, and that’s because there are no commonly used words that start with it. Seriously, it’s all just scientific terms- I’d argue X-Ray is more common than Xylophone in common parlance, but also, who wants to explain imaging to a kid. It doesn’t even get a second page of words on Dictionary.com. X also has implications as a letter word, that I’d rather avoid at the moment. 2/5.

Y: Ah, Ygreck, everyone’s favourite “what the fuck, France?” moment. Between that and being sorta kinda not really a vowel, Y prompts its own question more often than I’d care to admit. 2/5.

Z: As a (technical) member of the generation associated with this letter- on the one hand, I’m sorry, on the other, y’all have it coming. The final letter of the alphabet, one of the other ones worth 10 in scrabble (and yet X isn’t???), and one we probably got pretty sick of in the early 00s when it was everywhere- ironically, when most of the generation was getting born. 2/5.

And that’s the lot of them. I hope this didn’t alienate any non-English speakers too hard. It’s probably fine.

Join me for more bullshit next time I have another stupid idea. I mean, tomorrow.

#ramble #nonce shit tbh #remember when I made good content? yeah me neither

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rightsockjin · 4 years

Text

Day 1

Summary: You, Y/N, have just come off of the bachelor dejected and rejected. What’s a girl to do other than to go home and cry? Join paradise of course! This is a series and will be updated regularly. The more interaction it gets, the quicker chapters will be put out! Please like and reblog guys! Thank you!

Rating for chapter: K+

Genere: Romance, slight angst

Word count: 7,862

Warnings: Nothing for this chasers but will probably have warnings later. Quite obviously, this is fiction so don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s for fun.

-AdminKimmy

This wasn’t the ideal situation to be in. You weren’t the kind of girl to do something like this. You had never really wanted to be on one of these shows that seemed to glorify drama and sexuality yet here you were, in a car, on your way to something called Paradise. You were embarrassed to say the least. Or maybe it’s just that you felt like you should be. You really, actually felt a bit excited. For all you knew, you were well on your way to meeting the love of your life. He could be at this same place, at the same time, looking exactly for you.

You had your legs crossed and your hands on your knees. Your foot was bouncing nervously and you were biting your lip all the while trying to keep a slight smile on your face. The camera in front of you didn’t help to calm your nerves whatsoever. You briefly looked down at your chest to make sure that the multitude of buttons on your lilac dress remained secured and safe. You hadn’t worn this dress ever before and earlier this exact morning you had thought that it would have been a good idea to wear it. Now, it felt like maybe you should have worn something you were a little more comfortable in. Something a little more you. But it was too late for that, obviously. You were now stuck in the pretty dress that you had pulled on and you just had to be satisfied.

Still, you felt the worry tugging at the back of your mind. A curl fell over your eye and this was what prompted you to stop biting your lip so you could instead blow the hair out of your eyelashes. This was another choice you weren’t sure about. You had curled your hair. Would everyone think you were fake for fixing your hair arguably glamorously for the beach?

Your heart squeezed as the producer who had been assigned to you cleared his throat to get your attention. You jumped in your seat slightly, your head snapped up to meet his apologetic brown eyes which were shielded by a pair of thick, square glasses. They rested low on his relatively small nose and made him look a little like a nerd. You assumed that they seemed to fit him awkwardly mostly because of the black head set covering his ears, the mic was pulled slightly away from his admittedly full lips. He had a clipboard in his hands as well as a pen and since you had stepped in the car, he had been glancing anxiously at the papers in his lap. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was new to all of this and that’s why he seemed so on edge, but you assumed that it would be a little rude to ask.

“Sorry,” he slurred looking down at his clipboard again and tapping the pen anxiously on his cheek, “I just have some questions to ask you before we arrive.”

“Oh,” you answered, dropping your hand from your heart and placing it back on your knee.

“Okay. Sure. Shoot.”

Mentally, you cringed at yourself. Would it be too much to ask of yourself to not say anything cringe worthy?

“Okay,” the producer said, a smile pulling at his lips at your answer still looking at the questions, “I’ll take a shot.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was cute. You couldn’t lie to yourself about it. Since you had seen him at the airport a couple of days prior, you had noticed that he was attractive but you weren’t here to flirt with the staff. You were here to find a boyfriend and potentially a husband. So instead of dwelling on how cute he was, you chose instead to keep in mind who this man was. A glorified handler of sorts.

“So, why did you want to be in Bachelor in Paradise?”

You took a deep breath and looked at the producer but he shook his head and pointed down at the camera instead. You smiled and nodded, trying to keep your nerves at bay and your voice even.

“Well…after being on the bachelor for all of two seconds, I felt like maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have like sixty girls dating the same guy. I guess I don’t stand out much at first so I thought that narrowing down the dating pool and adding a couple more men would help my chances? Honestly, I just wanted a second chance at this whole reality show dating thing.”

The producer nodded, his eyes hooded slightly like you had maybe said something wrong. You thought back to your answer and realized that you had spoken a bit fast. It might be hard to edit it later on.

“Sorry,” you said, “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“It’s alright,” the producer said, adjusting his glasses and writing something down before he asked another question.

“Who do you hope is in Paradise if anyone and what do you hope will come out of it?”

A specific face popped in your mind. The hope that this person was going to be in Paradise as well was what had pushed you over the edge to apply.

“I hope that the last runner up is there,” you said with confidence, “Seokjin. I honestly can’t believe that he was rejected. That last girl was crazy. He’s so funny and good looking. I’d love to get to know him. Honestly though, I’m not expecting anything from this. I just want to see how things go. I just really hope that Jungkook isn’t here. After the last season…I just don’t want to see him. I didn’t have a lot of time on the show but he just felt so…disingenuous and shallow. He was nothing like what I thought he would be like.”

The producer snorted. You blinked up at him but he cleared his throat again and continued on as if he hadn’t just laughed at what you said. It rubbed you the wrong way.

“Is something funny?”

The producer looked up, a smile still sparkling in his eyes as he realized what it could have seemed like to you.

“Oh uh…no I’m so sorry, that was unprofessional. It won’t happen again Miss Y/N. I just have one more question for you if that’s alright, then we should be good.”

You crossed your arms and sat up straighter. You honestly felt a little judged. If this producer was going to be the one constantly questioning you, you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to be honest with his judgy ass.

“Right okay go on.”

“What would be the worst case scenario for you coming out of this experience?”

You raised an eyebrow. Isn’t that obvious?

“Well obviously being single-”

“I’m sorry Miss Y/N, could you phrase your answer with ‘The worst case scenario would be’ for editing purposes?”

You held back an eye roll. After that chortle, your annoyance seemed to be on the surface of your skin.

“Sure,” you conceded, “The worst case scenario would be for me to come out of this single or looked over again. I feel like I’ve worked a lot on myself since the last time and I don’t want to be ignored again.”

The producer hissed but jotted something down. Suddenly, you remembered that the producers of this show were notorious for making people look a certain way and took things out of context for entertainment sake. Had you come across too harshly? You didn’t want to be the bitchy girl on the show.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly as he began to turn back around in his seat, “did that come out too bitchy?”

The producer tilted his head slightly, “Uh, no. I don’t think so. I think it was just the right amount of bitchy to be honest.” He shrugged then turned fully to the front. Your heart sank.

“You’re not going to make me look like a crazy person are you?”

Again, you winced at your word choice. You had seen how they could twist this out of context. You should be much more careful with what you were saying.

“Mm… probably not.”

Probably? Probably not? The greenest trees you had ever seen suddenly took up the view from your seat. You were nearing the film sight. You could still see the car that was filming your car following behind, but where there were only streets and buildings before, there was now open blue skies and greenery so beautiful it almost took your breath away.

“That’s not very reassuring,” you said looking out of the window and placing a hand over your heart just to feel it beat. It grounded you.

“I don’t usually do the editing so I can’t say for sure, but there’s this other girl who arrived a little before you and she was super defensive so I feel like the title of bitchiest has probably gone to her already.”

You felt your shoulders relax a bit at that but a sliver of fear wormed his way into your body. You hoped that she wouldn’t actually be a bitch. You felt a little bad for her.

“How do you think they’ll make me look? The forgettable one?”

The producer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up his phone and typed something out. He then held out his phone to you without turning.

You took the phone with uncertainty. You looked down and noticed that he had his notes open and what he’s been typing was directed at you.

If you don’t want to be shown in a bad lighting, I recommend you don’t say things like “did that sound too bitchy” or “I’m the forgettable one”. That is only giving them ideas as to what to brand you. Be positive.

Your heart sank. He was right. You had seen it many times before and you were making all the mistakes that you said you weren’t going to make. You decided to type back instead of answering out loud.

You’re probably right. I guess I’m just nervous. I’m scared. I’ll try to be positive.

You handed the phone back to him with a tap on his shoulder. He took the device without hesitation. He held it a bit away from his face then began to type frantically. You felt like you were buzzing. Maybe it was the cameras or the fact that you could now see the resort. You couldn’t be sure which.

“Namjoon,” said the driver with a chastising tone to his voice, “You know you shouldn’t be talking to her like that. Speak with your voice. The editors will complain that they don’t have any footage.”

Namjoon. Why did that name sound familiar?

“Right sorry Sejin ssi,” Namjoon answered looking down at his phone awkwardly then over his shoulder at you. He seemed to be debating whether to show you what he’d written or not now that he’d been chastised. After a couple more seconds, he sighed and clicked his phone off. You frowned. You felt like what he was going to say was important.

You let yourself look out the window again just as the car turned left into the parking of the resort. Now you knew it was the fact that you were so close. The resort was enormous. It seemed to span for a good three miles. The walls were painted a vibrant yellow and the roof offset it with a deep warm brown. Small shells lined the front door and the driveway was littered with sand and kept shrubs. A plethora of flowers decorated the stairway leading to the entrance. Your heart skipped a beat. This was it.

You knew you weren’t the first person to arrive. There were already people at the resort waiting to meet you. If that wasn’t terrifying and exciting, then you didn’t know what was.

“Okay,” Namjoon said as the driver- Sejin- parked the car. You sat at attention, ready to do as he said.

“This is the villa but right now Chris is waiting for you at the entry to the beach access we have reserved for the show and we want to record that now since more people are on their way already. Sejin-ssi and I will take your bags to your room then I will meet up with you on the beach. Try not to talk to me directly too often unless there’s something urgent. At the end of the day,” he paused there for what may have been a bit too long, “you are here to meet the other people here, not me. Think of me as like a shadow for you, if that makes sense.”

You nodded. The reality of what you were doing had suddenly hit you square in the chest. Your body was on high alert. Every nerve in your body was ready to jump with the slightest thing. You were throwing yourself into the fray again.

Flashes of the last time you were on a show like this one crossed your mind’s eye. You tapped your chest as if you could stop the ache of last time from being present once again. You had gotten over that slight heart break. Jungkook hadn’t appreciated you and that wasn’t your fault. It was his for not seeing how amazing you were. You couldn’t let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game. This time would be different.

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Great. Just walk through the right side of the villa and you should see the cameras and Chris. It’s hard to miss.”

“Okay.”

You opened the door without a second thought and stepped out into the Mexican sun. The humidity was already prominent. You could almost feel your hair frizz. The sun was strong on your exposed shoulders. You should have put on sunscreen before arriving. Oh well. It would have to be something to keep in mind for the next time.

You heard the two other doors open and out walked Sejin and Namjoon. Both men were much taller than you, even in your beachy wedges. They both wore jean shorts and a black shirt. You could already see the men sweating in the summer heat. You weren’t surprised. It was almost unbearably hot but you had bigger things to worry about.

“Miss Y/N-“

“Please just call me Y/N. The whole Miss thing makes me feel old.”

You looked over your shoulder as Sejin opened the trunk that held your luggage. Namjoon was standing next to the taller man with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on his lips.

“Okay sure. Y/N, go ahead and go to the beach access. I’ll be there shortly.”

A strained smile crossed your face as you nodded and took a deep breath. With all of the courage you could muster, you took a step in the direction of the shooting sight. Like a spell being broken, the nerves dissolved slightly. You pulled your shoulders back and adjusted your hair. You were beautiful. Confident. Interesting. Attractive. Bachelor in Paradise was going to be different for you. You could just feel it.

As you walked along the path that Producer Namjoon had suggested, you felt yourself begin to sweat. The sun and humidity were starting to get to you already. Oh how you wished that this season was taking place in the alps somewhere instead of in the middle of summer on a beach in Mexico.

From a distance, you could see Chris, the host of the show, speaking to a man who wore a similar uniform to that of Namjoon and Sejin. He had glasses as well and was a little on the bigger side. He seemed to be telling Chris something but as soon as they saw you approaching, the man walked away with a pat on his shoulder and a cue to the camera man.

Chris, the professional he was, turned on the charm instantly. He smiled brightly at you as if you were an old friend though you were pretty sure he barely remembered you. Regardless, you smiled at him and prepared yourself for an awkward hug.

You waved at him and he waved back enthusiastically, his blond hair shone in the sun like spun gold. You wondered how much he paid for it.

“Is that Y/N?”

Taken aback, you looked behind you as if you thought he was talking to someone else. When you saw no one behind you, you realized that he actually did remember you, or the director had told him who you were.

“Me? Oh uh yeah! I didn’t think you would remember who I was,” you said. Namjoon’s words came back to you in that instant. Here was yet another thing to twist. You really needed to think before you spoke.

“How could I not remember who you are!? You left our last bachelor literally speechless with your entrance.”

You cringed at the memory. You had dressed really old Hollywood and paid a fortune to have your hair done up and while Chris was right, Jungkook had been left speechless, it hadn’t amounted to much as he sent you home almost instantly.

“It didn’t really help though,” you laughed as you neared and he held his arms up as you had thought he would to give you a hug. You walked into it unceremoniously, careful not to smudge the lipstick you wore on his light blue shirt. After a second of back pats, he let you free and you chuckled awkwardly.

“Well it looks like you came here with a similar approach. Do you think it will help you out this time around?”

“Am I overdressed?”

“Oh no, you’re fine. I just wanted to gauge your thoughts on this season.”

You unconsciously bit your lip and looked up at the sky in thought. The clouds were so white and fluffy they almost made you wish you could touch them. In that moment, a cloud shaped like a heart floated above you and your excitement soared. You pointed up at it to get Chris to look which to his credit he did without hesitation.

“Look! A heart! That’s gotta be a good sign!”

“Uh,” Chris stuttered, “Yeah it must be. Do you think anyone is going to be excited to see you?”

You smiled at the cloud as it morphed into shapeless blobs before you looked back down at Chris to answer his question.

“I hope so. I hope someone will want to date me. I came here to find love after all.”

“Yes, well, it looks like you’re about to find out. Why don’t you go ahead and meet up with the rest of the contestants that have arrived?”

Chris gestured to the stone walls that served as the entrance to the back side of the villa and you felt your heart drop. This was it. You were about to see who else had made it to Paradise.

With a final hug and a nod, you pulled your dress up and descended the moss covered stairs. It was like walking into the twilight zone of sorts. Reality seemed to melt away as you traveled further into the beach access. Suddenly, the wall gave way to bushes and palm trees you had seen so many times on TV and you felt yourself light headed.

“Someone else is here,” you heard a male voice yell. You felt a shiver run up your spine. As you took the final steps into the clearing. You plastered a smile on your face so you wouldn’t look threatening and near the cabana you saw multitudes of people already sitting and waiting and talking to one another. You could see two girls sitting together as well as a single woman sitting away from the Cabana alone. You made a mental note to go talk to her later.

At the bar, were four guys all of which looked extremely close to each other and very handsome. When your eyes landed on the one farthest to the right, your heart stopped. There he was in all of his glory. The fabled Kim Seokjin. Even from this distance he was stunning. He had lips like pillows and skin like silk. He was in a salmon colored button up and some khaki cargo shorts. His hair was black now and kept long which you guessed made it hot since it was already kind of gross outside, but the slight glisten of his skin only made him seem less approachable.

You forced yourself to look at the other men and realized you recognized them all as well. None of these men had been the actual Bachelor but they had been on seasons of the bachelorette.

Kim Taehyung was the runner up on Yuri’s season which had shocked the world in its entirety. The man was a tall glass of water and on top of that he seemed to be extremely caring, so when the bachelorette of the time had rejected his marriage proposal, it was a shock to say the least. More so, it was a shock that he hadn’t been chosen to be the next bachelor. People had started the petition.

Next to him was an older man. He had black hair and a severe undercut. He was drinking what looked to be whisky with a heavily ringed finger. He was hunched over slightly and his oversized shirt hung off of him so you could see into it if you wanted to. He was pale. Nearly as white as his shirt but his stoney exterior was enough to keep you intrigued. Min Yoongi. He was rich. That much you knew. He was some sort of architecte who’d become a psychologist and after having finished his career, he realized he wanted to be in love and was convinced to go on the show by a friend of his that worked on it. Who that friend was, the world never knew, but he was on a particularly uninteresting season of the bachelorette. He was the only thing you remembered about that show.

Finally, next to him was someone you knew was much younger than most of the people there. Choi Soobin. He may have been younger, two years to be exact, but he was by far the tallest man in the house as of yet. He towered over Yoongi in the stool next to him. He had a tall fruity looking drink in his enormous hand and was taking sips from it every so often. He had been voted off his own season of the Bachelorette because Katie, the bachelorette, wasn’t into being a noona.

It was a mistake for her. Soobin had been the most good looking man on her season and she had ended up with no proposals. That must have hurt her ego. Then again, she was kind of a jerk if you remembered correctly from your own season of the bachelor. She had been one of the three finalists for Jungkook but he had gone with some girl that was clearly all wrong for him and they had broken off their engagement shortly after the show aired.

“Hi guys,” you heard your voice say. Already, the two girls who were seated together glared at you though you didn’t know who they were so you had no idea why they did this. The men on the other hand, looked chipper. They stood instantly and waited for you to arrive. You stepped into the Cabana and realized that even with heels, it was going to be a challenge to reach Soobin. He seemed to see this as well and stooped town to gently hug you. His smile reached his eyes which squinted prettily. He smelled a little like linens and cotton. It was refreshing and you wondered if it was his clothes, or his hair that gave off such a delightful scent.

“Hi, I’m Soobin,” he said after he had pulled away. His voice was deeper than you expected and you blinked up at him.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.”

Almost instantly, without waiting for Soobin to reply, another set of arms wrapped around you. Taken aback, you hugged the person back and felt his wide shoulders.

“I’m Seokjin but you can call me Jin! It’s nice to meet you!”

Your heart stopped. Here he was. The Kim Seokjin, hugging you! You tried to keep your nerves at bay so that you could make a good impression. You knew that later, you would have to talk to a camera about how you felt and you wanted to appear cool and collected.

“Wow Seokjin! So nice to meet you as well!”

He gave you an extra squeeze then let you breathe, though he was holding onto your shoulders examining you. You felt self continuous. Would he find a lot of flaws? Not all of the world could be nearly scientifically perfect like him.

“Wow you are just gorgeous! I can’t believe the kid kicked you out of the show so quickly! What a prick!”

Your eyes went wide. Had Seokjin watched your season? And he remembered you? Wow. It was almost worth not making it halfway through the show.

“Yeah I can’t believe Jungkook let her go,” said Taehyung from behind Jin. His eyes narrowed at the older man who only winked at him and stepped back.

“Oh well, lucky for us,” he said, opening his arms wide. He was weaning a blue and white striped shirt that was tucked into dark blue shorts. His dark brown hair was pushed back by a bandana that seemed to be matching Yoongi’s. You chuckled to yourself before stepping into the hug. His arms wrapped around your frame easily but he only held onto you for a second in fear of being disrespectful.

“My name is Taehyung.”

“Hey, yeah I know.” If you could hit yourself, this would be the time to. “I mean, I watched your season. My name is Y/N.”

“I know,” he reciprocated, “I watched yours too.”

You didn’t have time to react as Taehyung winked at you then moved aside to introduce you to the last man.

“This is Yoongi. He’s a little grumpy because it’s so early and he’s usually asleep at this time. Right hyung?”

Yoongi took a prolonged sip of his whisky before he spoke and glared at his...friend? He stood from the stool. This man was significantly shorter than the rest but his presence seemed to take up the whole room.

“I’m not usually asleep at three in the afternoon you little shit,” he whined pushing Taehyung lightly on the shoulder. His glare seemed misplaced on his cute face. He almost seemed like a baby when he was mad. It was the least threatening thing you had ever seen.

“He did get one thing right. I’m Yoongi,” he said, holding out a hand. He had been the only person not to hug you. You wondered if this meant that he was already not interested in you.

Sensing your unease, Taehyung stepped in once again, “Don’t worry about his lack of affection Y/N. Yoongi hyung is just a little awkward when it comes to women.”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi warned, his eyes blazing at the taller man.

“I’m just messing with you hyung!”

You took Yoongi’s hand and shook it carefully. You could feel that your hands were a little sweaty and you worried he’d find it gross. Yoongi showed no signs of disgust though. He smiled softly at you then offered you his seat at the bar. You smiled brightly at him and was ready to take the seat but then you remembered the girls and realized you should go introduce yourself to them as well. If they weren’t going to do the polite thing and introduce themselves then you would do it.

“I’d love to stay but I should go say hi to them as well,” you said, tilting your head towards the girls. Taehyung did nothing to hide his dejected feelings. His lips turned down in a frown. Yoongi elbowed him and he straightened out his expression instantly.

“Okay go ahead. Do you mind if we speak later though?” Taehyung asked hopefully and your heart raced. You may have shown up partially for Jin but you weren’t going to deny spending some time with the most handsome man in the world. That would be plain stupid.

“Of course! After I greet everyone, you’re the first on my list.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jin’s face turn into an attractive scowl but he said nothing and you excused yourself.

You first walked over to the two girls who had been scowling at you this entire time. One of them had bleach blonde hair that was tied back into a long flowing ponytail. She had the prettiest blue eyes and her features reminded you of a doll. She was petite and beautiful. Too bad the scowl on her face was unflattering. Her friend was quite pretty as well. She had dark brown hair that was cut sharply at her shoulders. It was loose and flowing in the wind showing off her highlights. She had freckles all over her shoulders and some scattered on her nose. She seemed to be a bit taller than the blonde girl though, this evident by the way she hunched slightly in her seat to be at ear level.

You forced a smile on your face as you approached. They seemed to exchange a knowing look and shifted their expressions. Now, two perfectly white teeth smiles beamed up at you.

“Hi,” you said, waiting for them to stand, but they only sat and waited as if you were meant to do the same.

“Uh… My name is-”

“We know who you are,” said the blonde girl. Her voice was squeaky and high pitched. She reminded you very much of a barbie.

“Oh you do? I thought no one remembered me.”

“Are you kidding? No one could believe Jungkook sent you home so quickly,” said the brunette.

“Really?” This was hard to believe for you. You assumed you had been too boring and everyone could tell.

“Yeah. You’re super pretty,” Agreed her friend, but then something shifted in the air and their smiles seemed less friendly and more threatening. “Just so you know, Kim Taehyung and Kim SeokJin are taken.”

Your heart sank. And so the drama began.

“Oh really? They didn’t mention that they already-”

“Well they are. Stay away from them and we shouldn’t have any problems. ‘Kay?” The Blonde asked, her voice was deceivingly perky.

You weren’t in the mood to argue. It seemed to you like both Taehyung and Seokjin weren’t exactly set on anyone. If Taehyung’s invitation was anything to go by but you knew that indulging in shananigans such as this would only make your life much harder here.

“Got it. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Glad we understand each other, “ said the brunette, without warning or dismissal, they stood and walked over to the men. The blonde instantly threw her arms around Seokjin and the brunette bent down half way and stuck her admittedly nice ass out next to Taehyung. Both men seemed civil enough. You felt a slight pang at the sight but you pushed it aside. There were more men to come and you still had at least one more introduction to make. One of those two must be the girl that Namjoon had warned you about.

With slight hesitance, you walked over to the girl who was sitting by herself on a chair near the ocean. She seemed pretty relaxed. She was leaning back on her wrists. Her short legs were bare and her feet were encased in some cute brown sandals. She had a loose white knitted shirt over what looked to be a one piece blue swimsuit covered in flowers. It dipped low on her chest and showed off a little bit of cleavage. A pretty straw hat sat on her medium length wavy hair. She seemed totally unbothered by it all. For a second, you wondered if she even was a part of the show but the mic strapped to her back was a dead give away.

“Um hey,” you said uncertainty. You didn’t want to bother her after all but at the same time, you really did want to make at least one friend that wasn’t one of the men. It would be pretty lonely if you didn’t.

The girl slowly looked over at you. Her expression was polite. She didn’t exactly smile, though you swore you saw the corners of her lips tilt up.

“Hi,” her voice was soft which was a contrast to the initial coldness that she exuded. You smiled at her as if this would show that you weren’t there to harass her. She mirrored your smile.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself but if you want to be left alone I can go?”

The girl sat up straight instantly, “No it’s okay. My name is Alexandria but you can call me Alex.”

Relief swept through you at her friendly tone. You walked closer and sat slightly behind her on her lounge chair. She adjusted so that she was sitting parallel to you. She seemed a little nervous and you saw that in yourself. You could at least keep eachother company.

“Alex! Okay hi! My name is Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she complimented, “It’s nice to meet you. I know i must look weird being so far from everyone but those two girls kind of freaked me out and all the guys are really tall so I thought I’d take a second to breathe.”

“Yeah, those two were...something else,” you agreed, “And that Soobin guy has to be like seven feet tall!”

“He’s six two,” she corrected then quickly covered her mouth. A blush covered her cheeks and you chuckled.

“You like him then?”

Alexandria shook her head quickly, “I just always find out how tall people are before if I can. I’m really short so height is a big deal.”

Indeed, as you looked at her, you realized you were about a head taller than her. You yourself weren’t that tall so this girl must be-

“I’m four eleven.”

“Oh my God,” you said without thinking. This time you blushed.

“I’m so sorry that came out wrong. I’ve just never met someone so short! And these guys are…”

“Huge,” she finished.

“Completely.”

A gargle of noise drew your attention back to the bigger group. At some point, while you had been distracted, another girl had arrived. That made the total count four guys to five girls.

This girl was very different to the rest of the girls already here. She was wearing a loose pink romper and some circular sunglasses. Her hair was cut short at her jaw and it was dark brown and straight. She was very tan and curvy. Gladiator sandals adorned her muscular calves. It was no surprise that the men and now, the girls, were gawking at her. Romper cut low to her chest and ran nearly to her shorts. She exuded confidence.

“Looks like the competition is stiff,” Alexandria said. You nodded and stood to go greet her. You expected Alex to follow but she didn’t move.

“Don’t you wanna go say hi?”

“Mm.. maybe later. She can come to me if she wants.” You blinked at her.

“Okay well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah later.”

You didn’t know how to feel about her. She seemed nice enough but a little closed off. You guessed you had six weeks to find out.

You made your way carefully to the group which had migrated a bit to greet the new girl. The men each took turns hugging the girl and to no one’s surprise, Yoongi held out only a hand to shake. Taehyung rolled his eyes at his friend this time but said nothing. As you approached, the girl looked over at you. She was also shorter than you were but not nearly as much as Alex. The sea of men before her parted to let you through. A weird tension rested in the air.

“Hi,” she said, her voice like honey, “I’m Julie.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she said unabashedly, hugging you.

“Wow you’re a really affectionate person huh?”

“You could say that,” she joked, “How is everyone doing so far?”

“Pretty good, “ said Seokjin, “It’s hard not to be when there're so many beautiful women arriving.”

The blonde chose that moment to wrap an arm around Seokjin’s bicep and giggle like her life depended on it. You fought yourself not to roll your eyes.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Julie answered stepping up directly to Jin and taking his hand, “Would you be interested in telling me what I’ve missed out on?”

Seokjin’s eyes seemed to pop out of his head as he shook off the blonde and let Julie lead him away towards a canopy over a comfortable looking bed.

The look on her face was worth the slight jealousy you felt as Seokjin walked away entranced by the woman’s curves. Awkwardly, you looked at the rest of the group and noticed that the brunette was sulking somewhere behind. Taehyung must have shut her down or something.

“Hey Y/N.” You looked back to the group and realized that said man was speaking to you. His hair had curled a little at the ends with the humidity of the day. It was attractive.

“Could I talk to you now?”

You smiled at him. It was incredibly flattering to have him want to speak with you specifically.

“Yeah! Totally.”

A shock of electricity ran through your body as his long fingers entwined with yours. His hand dwarfed yours. If you were honest with yourself, Taehyung was everything you could possibly want in a man. He was tall, good looking, he seemed to be funny and even respectful. Things could have gone much worse if you were honest. He was a catch.

He led you a bit away from the noise of the Cabana and to the pool. No one was really there so you guys had the space to yourselves to really talk. You could still see the main section of the beach from here so if you were needed you would be able to tell. The bubbles of the jacuzzi were soothing to listen to. You could almost feel the jets on your back. Just the thought made your shoulders roll back and your head lull. You heard Taehyung chuckle but you didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like he was laughing at you.

“Sorry, I just love hot tubs. I can’t wait to get in,” you explained looking at Taehyung. He smiled brightly at you.

“We can get in if you want! I’ve been dying to get in the water.”

You giggled and shoved his chest lightly, “I’m not wearing a swimsuit under this and I didn’t put on any sunscreen. I also don’t want to mess up my hair just yet. It took a long time to get it like this.”

“We could just get in like this. I’m actually not wearing swim trunks either. I’m okay with getting a little wet if you are. As for your hair,” He said as I opened my mouth to protest, “I have a hair tie.”

He let go of your hand and stepped behind you, pulling your sleek hair off your shoulders. You could tell that you were already getting a little sunburned but his breath on your back made you completely forget about it.

He delicately pulled your hair up and tied it into a bun on the top of your head, a couple of strands escaped his hold and framed your face. He must have done people’s hair before because he was done quickly and he hadn’t pulled your hair once. He didn’t move away when he was done though. He placed his hands on your shoulder and leaned in close to your ear.

“Take off your shoes,” he whispered. Without question, you did what he said. You set your shoes by one of the chairs and as soon as you had straightened his hands were on your waist.

“Is this ok?”

Yes. Of course. Was he really asking that? Was he kidding? Had he looked in a mirror?

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said. Suddenly, Taehyung picked you up off your feet by the waist and tossed you into the hot tub, dress and all. You screamed as the water splashed around you. Usually, something like this would make you furious but not too much after, Taehyung waddled in after you and sat down, the water at his shoulder. He smiled up at you as your dress soaked up the hot water and floated around you almost ethereally.

“Wow… how is it that you’re more beautiful now?”

The anger rushed out of you instantly and you waddled over to him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and his legs were open so you could stand between them. His hands fell to your hips again. He was laying it on thick. You knew that, but honestly, you didn’t mind. You were here to find love. What better way to do that than to throw yourself into it head first. The sun beat down on your skin but you knew that the warmth you felt wasn’t from the ray or the water but from the excitement that so quickly, someone had shown an interest in you.

Like a magnetic force, you felt yourself lean down. Taehyung was reaching up too, his wet hand was now at your neck. It was like a spell. You would never have done something like this before. You were always the kind of person to take things slow, but you had six weeks to fall in love and you realized that maybe you would have to speed up your regular process. Would you regret this later? Maybe. But in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Y/N!”

The deep voice of Producer Namjoon made you both jump apart. A groan escaped Taehyung’s lips. Embarrassment flooded your body. What must he think of you? He’d left you alone for what couldn’t be more than a couple of hours and already you were going to kiss a complete stranger.

“Producer Namjoon?”

Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the name but he shook his head and moved past it. He gave Taehyung a weird look before he focused on you again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever it was that was about to happen but I really have to talk to you.”

“Hey Joon hyung,” Taehyung interrupted. Hyung? Were they that close?

“Aren’t you supposed to not interrupt us?”

PD Namjoon rolled his eyes at the younger man, “Yes I know. I just need to talk to Y/N for a second-”

“Is it really that important, hyung? We really were kind of in the middle of something.”

“Taehyung. I need to speak with her. You guys can make out later.”

“We were not making out,�� You interjected, flustered that Namjoon had kind of walked in on you.

“Whatever. I don’t care what you do with yourself. I just have to speak to you in private.”

PD Namjoon gave you a withering look. You looked at Taehyung who sighed and stood up. The shirt was stuck to his abs and the water glistened in the sunlight. He had some really pronounced arm muscles that you hadn’t noticed. He ran a hand through his hair. Drops of water ran through the strands. He looked like he was straight out of a commercial.

“I’ll talk to you later Y/N,” Taehyung said before stepping out of the hot tub. He trailed water as he walked back to the Cabana. From the distance, you could see that a couple more people had arrived. There were more men than women now. Julie was sitting at the bar with a couple of them. Alex seemed to have migrated a little closer and was talking to a man with what seemed to be blue hair and the two girls you had met earlier were speaking to one of the new guys and Soobin. There were three new girls that you hadn’t spoken to as well. It hadn’t felt like you had been gone for a long time but from the looks of it, your absence had been longer than imagined.

“Okay first thing’s first,” PD Namjoon said holding out a tube of 100 spf sunscreen. You were shocked. How had he known that you needed some?

“You’re mic,” he explained as you took the sunscreen and clicked it open, “I’m supposed to be listening in case you need anything.”

“Oh,” you said, “that’s...creepy.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, you’ll be really grateful if something really serious happens. Think of me as like an older brother or something like that. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay,” you conceded, slightly disappointed that he seemed to have closed a door with that analogy, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. Is that all?”

You squeezed a good amount of sunscreen onto the palm of your hand and rubbed it tenderly on your shoulders and around your chest. You pulled it up to your neck. You tried to reach on your back. With the tips of your fingers you barely reached. You scrunched up your nose. If you had just worn something with more cover, everything would have been fine.

“Come here,” Namjoon said. You raised your eyebrows at his tone.

“Please? I’m going to help you put it on your back.”

You waddled closer to the edge then handed him the tube, a bit suspicious. He was a stranger after all. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t on the show to try and seduce you. He was genuinely just being nice.

You felt his warm hands on you slightly sunburned back and you winced. Namjoon chuckled. This wasn’t like Taehyung. Instead, you felt like he really was making fun of you. You crossed your arms but let him massage the sunscreen onto your skin before he spoke again.

“Okay so secondly, I really thought I should warn you, especially after what you said in the car on the way here.”

“Warn me about what?” You turned back to look at him. His expression was uncomfortable and it reminded you of how he had looked when PD Sejin had told him to speak to you out loud instead of through a message.

“What is it?” A spike of fear shot through you.

“I’m not supposed to tell you and I need you to act like you don’t know but one of the people who is coming is-”

“Hey Y/N,” another voice cut across Namjoon. You turned towards it to see that most of the people who had been hanging out by the Cabana were now making their way towards you. Amongst them, was none other than Jeon Jungkook.

49 notes · View notes

mortuarybees · 5 years

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Exclusively For People Made Feral By “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

The kind of fanfiction I enjoy is the kind which requires me to take a decompression breather every paragraph or so because I’m repressed and tenderness is physically painful. i want there to be yearning and pining and brooding and ultimately, intimacy: fics which embody the mortifying ordeal of being known, as well as the reward of being loved in the end. So here are the fics I’ve read that satisfy this requirement, or in some cases are just extremely tender, in no particular order, with a quote that made me absolutely wild, as well as a few things that aren’t fic

another soul to cling to by strawberry_bee/my best friend @femmeaziraphale

Crowley is born a run of the mill angel. There is only one catch though. He is given a prophecy by God to be the first and only angel to fall in love. That's clearly off the table when he falls from Heaven though, right? // in progress and the only in-progress fic on the list but it is Too Good and also i have a direct line to the author and they will finish it

“Do you promise to stay still if I turn out the lights?” Aziraphale asked.

“The dark is a demon’s favorite place to be,” Crowley joked, feeling the urge to make light of the situation. He rather felt like he was being taken on a jaunty little date, human skulls included just to woo a demon in the right sort of way.

“Quiet, foul fiend,” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers again. They dove into darkness, and before Crowley could find some sort of clever quip, he felt Aziraphale’s arms about his waist. His brain turned to mush, the only thing he could think of being ‘oh, so this is love’ before he felt Aziraphale’s lips brush gently against the edge of his mouth.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, before pulling away. Crowley reached out blindly, coming up with nothing. He turned to the entrance, spotting the outline of Aziraphale as he ascended. Crowley leaned against a wall, hand resting against the forehead of a skull.

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza:

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

“I love you, do you see? Not for work. I’m - I suppose you could say I’m in love with you, to use a human phrase.”

Crowley went very still. Aziraphale withdrew his hands and folded them primly in his lap, moving back to their more customary distance. “It’s quite alright that you don’t love me,” he hurried to add. “It doesn’t change anything. I just wanted you to know in case... Well, anything could still happen with our superiors, you know? Neither side is probably very pleased with us at the moment.”

Crowley stared at him over the rim of his sunglasses, looking rather stricken, and he was making an odd, creaky sound like a strong wind through a poorly-sealed window. The mostly-empty wine bottle he’d been holding slipped out of his loose grasp and clattered to the floor, wine drops spattering on the hardwood. “Aziraphale,” he said finally, voice ragged, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone (explicit)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." // okayokayokay there’s Meaningful Interior Decorating and a couch metaphor and like the fact that they actually goddamn brought That Quote into it...unacceptable

"My dear boy," Aziraphale says. "You could have said something."

"But we never do that," Crowley says.

He's back to worrying at the fabric of his trousers.

"Besides," he says. "Didn't want to go too fast for you."

Aziraphale feels something swell in his chest, and it feels all encompassing. Like love and heartbreak at the same time. Like being back at the Eastern Gate watching Crowley slither up to him for the first time, question everything while Aziraphale himself was trying not to. He's spent so long, too long, telling himself he could never be ready for this. He reaches out and grabs Crowley's hand, stops him from worrying at his trousers any further.

the nuances of ‘together’ by mirawonderfulstar

Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.

“Oh, don’t look like that, my dear.” Aziraphale said airily. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s—that’s not the bloody point.” Crowley exclaimed, his feelings from the last week finally coming to a head. “Why do people keep assuming we’re together and why do you keep letting them?”

Aziraphale froze, a forkful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He looked like he’d just been slapped. He was focuing very hard on a spot over Crowley's shoulder and his eyes seemed rather wet. Crowley felt a panic begin to slither up his throat, constricting his breathing. He wanted very much to say something, anything at all to make Aziraphale stop looking like that, but he had no idea what.

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed

Crowley has chronic pain, and six thousand years later explains that to Aziraphale. I adore the small intimacy of Aziraphale asking him to print him articles about it so he can better understand, and their characterizations, and it seems so much like an exchange from the book I’ll likely have difficulty remembering it isn’t canon in the future, which I’m fine with.

“I don’t read books,” Crowley corrects. “The occasional article, well, maybe.” He figures he’s going to need to extend as many olive branches as he can find, so he adds, “Some of them help. Sometimes quite a lot, actually.”

“Could you—would you print some for me?” Aziraphale asks. “I’d like to understand better.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, looking at him as long as he can bear. “I’ll do that.”

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter

Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation. // fuck guys it’s literally about the hands and perfectly captures like nothing else does the feeling of watching Pride and Prejudice (2005)

One of his hands rests over the other, the tips of his fingers cold. He watches as Darcy takes Elizabeth's hand, gentle, like handling a bird, their fingers curling over each other's. He mimics the gesture with his own hands, brushing his fingers over one another. Slowly, slowly closing them to a grasp. Opening them again, brushing his knuckles with his thumb. He continues, back, and forward, watching with mild fascination. The sensation relaxes him, like a trance, and he only feels some sensation building inside him when it had risen so high that he had to sigh to release it. Now his hands lie still, holding each other limply. He releases them, letting his fingers brush past each other on the way. When he looks up, the television had cut to adverts.

covet by mirawonderfulstar

pining aziraphale and an amazing confession scene that i absolutely adore.

Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.

a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Crowley has a system in place for dealing with moments like these. He developed it sometime in the fifth century, when it became clear that the thoughts and feelings the angel inspired in him weren’t going to go away, and neither was the cast iron certainty that they were largely unreturned. The angel loves him, of course, but only in the slightly absentminded, mandated way he loves all other living things. Crowley has long since made his peace with this. It just stings a bit sometimes, like taking a sip of tea so hot it burns the roof of your mouth. (Not that Crowley himself has had this experience. He has gathered from the mental exclamations of many, many humans, however, that such a mishap brings forth a similar sense of aching hurt, betrayal and a wistfulness that things might be different.)

The best Crowley can do is just let himself feel it – let the love go through him, unnatural and sticky though it may be, always trying to glue itself to the inside of his veins – and wait for it to come out the other side. Sometimes it even works.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Crowley had always assumed – perhaps disingenuously – that Aziraphale was like most other angels. Capable of grand expressions of love when it came to humanity, but generally avoidant of the topic personally. A love for all things, a love for Crowley even, but the love of a kind, well-meaning relative who sends birthday cards on the wrong day and with a fiver inside with a note to buy something nice like you're still at primary school. Love but distant, separate, and impersonal.

But now, at least according to the rumours, Aziraphale had spent most of the medieval ages playing wingman to a bunch of queer martyrs and church-folk. Which meant that there must be something there, a comprehension of love beyond his angel-standard, over-arching love for mankind. That Aziraphale could, and apparently did, pick favourites.

That he could, just possibly, feel love himself. On an individual level.

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh

Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised. // love!!! languages!!

He wonders what Crowley can feel through this touch. He wonders if Crowley can feel him back.

“I’ve never felt anything like you,” he finally says, looking up to meet Crowley’s eyes. They’re wide, awaiting judgment: something in them is terribly resigned, but when Crowley tries to draw his hand back, Aziraphale doesn’t let him go. Instead he steps in closer and says, at nearly a whisper so as not to startle, “What I mean is, you’re beautiful.”

There is a pause, and then Crowley says, soft with surprise, “Oh.”

Aziraphale kisses him.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip

One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask? // crowley struggles to tell Aziraphale how he feels out loud; he finds a way around it. pairs well with the fic above, I think.

“I’m not smitten, angel. I wouldn’t say smitten.”

“Oh?” He’d looked at Crowley’s hand in his, looked back up. “And what would you say?”

Suddenly a change in Crowley’s posture, a tilt of his head; there was the sideways smile. “I’d say I lust after you, angel. I covet you. I idolize you. But... smitten? I mean, honestly.” And Crowley had shrugged, as if that had been that.

For some reason, this morning, that hadn’t been enough.

“And?”

“And... and what?” Crowley had looked a bit desperate.

Aziraphale’s mouth had tasted like tea and toast. “And you love me.”

penance by blissymbolics (explicit)

It’ll happen, Crowley tells himself. This time, it’ll finally happen. // it’s porn with feelings, crowley has a praise kink, just read the tags if you’re interested

Maybe being deprived of his right to come was a necessary component of being a demon. It was permanent, chronic proof of his disobedience. But fuck, God already gave him his snake eyes and revoked his retirement benefits. Messing with his dick was just foul play. It probably violated the Geneva Convention.

Around the turn of the twenty-first century, he began to think that maybe it’d be best to just accept his lot and call it quits. It’s obviously never going to happen. So why keep torturing himself?

Or at least, that’s how he felt before Aziraphale. Before a certain day in the year of our Lord, 2019. Before he felt a shift in the solar system, and knew that they were now spinning together as one gravitational unit. They shared the same space. The same time. And on one occasion, the same bodies.

Also, I wrote a fic: all i need, darling, is a life in your shape

it’s about repressed aziraphale and pining and it was inspired by strawberry blond by mitski.

Not Fics But Fuck, Man

Meta: why is aziraphale so gay? by dictionarywrites on ao3: a very extensive meta exploring how aziraphale canonically presents himself as a gay man, and why exactly he does that.

this crowley space meta and this crowley space meta really fcking did me in

the unadulterated yearning in this mitski-inspired art by @poladraws i think about it at least once a day and it is. A Lot

this from eden fan video on youtube

this two part amnesia post by @thealogie like i don’t even fcking like amnesia fic but like. “this discovery and several other little reactions of yours have led me to believe that the Other Me, that is the Me that has all his memories, has let standards slide and is not doting on you as he should be. are you cared for? do i need to kick my own butt?” oh my goddddd

@mulderswatch made a spotify playlist titled angels dined at the ritz hat makes me personally suffer every single time i hear it. he began it with predatory wasp of the palisades (”touching his back with my hand, i kiss him / i see the wasp on the length of my arm”) and ended it with strawberry blond by mitski (”can you hear the bumblebees swarm? / watching your arm / i love it when you look my way”) his m i n d

The best anon in the world asked me for my mitski a/c song associations and here it is

#this is admittedly 90% reference for me in the future #henry speaks #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic rec #good omens reference post

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