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Illegal Alien Legislation And How It Will Benefit The Ultimate Illegal Alien
Artist: Lars Sowig
“Two dudes about to deal with unwanted intruders
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The Morning After
The Morning After
Fic Summary: Colin wakes up in your apartment the morning after getting drunk and the two of you finally finish what you started in his hotel room. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.
Fic Rating: 18+
Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Smut
The first thing Colin notices when he opens his eyes is the splitting headache that makes it feel like his head is about to explode. With a sleepy groan he rubs his temples, reaching for his pillow so he can block out the bright morning sun. He doesn’t find a pillow and when he rolls over to look for it, he ends up on the floor, a blanket tangled around his jean-clad legs.
It’s enough to wake him up properly. He looks around, realizing he’s not in his hotel room but on the faded carpet of a strange apartment.
Oh god. Where am I?
Bits and pieces of the previous night come together. Colin remembers the reunion, remembers running into Mare and making a fool of himself. He remembers her calling someone.
It’s like his mind replays the moment you walked through the door in slow motion. After that, things get a little fuzzy but he’s smart enough to put the pieces together and realize that he’s at your place.
Smooth, Zabel. Real smooth.
Colin pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. Being drunk and crashing on the couch of the woman he’s head over heels for isn’t the lowest he’s been but it’s pretty damn close. He feels awful and the hangover doesn’t help.
His mouth is like cotton and his stomach churns from the emptiness and whatever alcohol may still remain.
Carefully, he extracts himself from the blanket gets up, determined to find the bathroom. He doesn’t hear a peep from your room so he assumes you’re still asleep. Quietly, he tiptoes around your apartment until he finds a tiny bathroom off the kitchen.
The first thing he does is douse his face in ice cold water before taking several large gulps from the tap. His reflection in the mirror looks awful: sleep-mused hair and dark circles under bloodshot eyes isn’t exactly how he wishes to present himself to you.
He does the best he can to freshen up and make himself feel more human.
By the time he steps out of the bathroom, the headache is a dull throb and he feels more alert. Of course, now he has the awkward problem of being awake in someone else’s apartment while they are still sleeping.
He can’t help but take the time to wander, looking at the personal items and mementos that are laying around. The space definitely is small but looks warm and lived in. Colin himself lives with his mother so most of what’s in the house is hers. It’s part of the reason why he got a hotel room for a bit while working on the case. So he can spread out his things and not worry about them being seen or touched.
“Find anything interesting?”
Colin turns around to find you standing in the doorway of your room, arms crossed as you lean against the frame.
His heart skips a beat at how good you look: soft eyes, amused smirk, wearing oversized t-shirt with comfortable looking shorts. He’s so used to seeing you dressed for work that it almost feels like he’s intruding.
Well, you are, genius. You passed out drunk on her couch.
“Hey, hi. Ummm…good morning,” he says, giving you an awkward wave.
“Thanks for letting me crash on your couch. I hope I didn’t do or say anything too embarrassing.”
“You don’t remember?”
Colin rubs the back of his neck. “Bits and pieces. But there are gaps.”
You chuckle. “Why don’t I make us some coffee and fill those in for you?”
“Great. I mean, yes, please. Thank you. Coffee sounds good.”
Still smirking, you head to the kitchen, leaving Colin to his own devices in the living room. He takes the time to sit back in the couch and pull out his phone. Thankfully, there are no important messages waiting for him so he didn’t miss anything while he partied. There is a text from his mother asking if he’d be home for dinner that night but other than that, nothing world ending.
The smell of coffee wafts in from the kitchen and puts Colin at ease. When you finally return to the living room, you carry two steaming mugs. He carefully takes one from you.
“Okay, lay it on me,” he says, taking a deep breath. “How bad was I?”
You laugh. “Not as bad as you think,” you assure him. “You were actually pretty adorable.”
“Hey, I’ll take adorable over obnoxious any day.”
“First, you were really excited to see me. Then you had me do a shot with you.”
Colin relaxed a little. “Alright, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“You asked for a kiss.”
Colin chokes on his first sip of coffee, pulling the mug away to try to avoid spilling it on himself. Vaguely he can recall the incident and his cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“I did do that, didn’t I?” he asks with a wince.
You look like you’re enjoying his blushing a bit too much. “Yes, yes you did.”
“In my defense, you’re a great kisser.”
This time when you laugh, he joins you, feeling the embarrassment start to melt away.
“Right back at you, Zabel.”
Pleased with himself, he takes a few more sips of coffee before saying, “We really need to talk about what all this means.”
More silence follows as you both try to figure out how to start such a conversation. Finally, he says your name as he puts his mug down on the coffee table.
“It’s no secret that I like you,” he says. “And I know it’s a little muddy since we work together, but I honestly feel like there’s really something here. I don’t want to miss a chance to see where it can go.”
You aren’t looking at him while he speaks. Instead, you stare into your coffee cup. Colin tries not to take it personally since he’s also having a hard time making eye contact. He waits in silence for you to respond, worried you may not feel the same way.
“I like you too, Colin,” you eventually say, causing his shoulders to relax as some of the tension leaves his body. “The truth is, I’m shit at this sort of thing. Spontaneous in the moment decisions, great, I can do that. But planning and talking aren’t my strongest skills.”
Colin holds out his hand for yours. You stare at it for a moment before accepting. Your hand is warm from your coffee mug and Colin can’t help but give it a squeeze.
“There’s absolutely no pressure,” he says. “We can take things as slow as you need. I want to be with you, in whatever way makes you comfortable.”
You put your mug down and a second later, he finds your lips pressing against his in a firm kiss. His brain short circuits for a moment, not expecting it. Eager and definitely willing, he kisses you back, cupping your cheek to hold you in place.
When you draw back, he’s a little dazed. “Or as fast as you want. That works too.”
You smile, slipping your arms around him to hold him close. “Why don’t we take this into my room?”
Yes, yes, god yes. Fucking hell. Please.
“Does this mean you want to do this?” he asks. “Date I mean. Do you want to date with me? I mean, go on a date with me?”
“I really do. After we finish what we started the other night. That work for you?”
“Yup. Yeah, definitely works.”
Grinning, you slide off the couch and pull him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom. He doesn’t get a chance to really get a good look around because then you’re kissing him again and he’s too preoccupied with the feeling of your mouth against his. The last time he was in this situation everything was so quick and rushed.
Now, he can take him time, savor your kiss and the feeling of your warm body pressed along his. He takes his face in your hands, cradling it as he deepens the kiss. With a quiet hum, you part your lips to let his tongue explore, sending tendrils of heat shooting through his body and straight down to his groin. His jeans are uncomfortably tight all of a sudden and the urge to yank them off is strong.
As if reading his mind, you reach down and undo the button with a swift flick of your fingers. He fumbles in his haste to push them down his hips, accidentally knocking your hands away as the clothing pools around his ankles. It draws a soft giggle out of you, which in turn makes him smile into your kiss. You fall back onto the bed, bringing him with you. Unfortunately, the pants don’t help and what should have been a smooth movement turns into a half-stumble as he all but falls on top of you.
“Ah, shit!” he exclaims.
You burst into laughter, eyes bright with amusement. “You’re so fucking cute.”
Colin can’t help but give you a lopsided smile. “I mean, I’d prefer to be sexy but cute is good too.”
“Then be sexy for me, Colin.”
He knows you’re teasing but the way your voice wraps around his name makes his cock jump with excitement. With hooded eyes, he cups the back of your head and yanks you into a bruising kiss, easily wiping the smile off your face. Dear god, he can’t get enough of you. All you’ve done is make-out a little and he’s already swimming in the deep end. Managing to kick out of his offending pants, he lets them fall to the floor as you move up the bed, him eagerly following.
The sheets are still warm and smell like you. Colin is drowning in your presence and your scent, and all it does is add fuel to the already roaring fire within. But before things go too much further, Colin pauses.
“I have condoms in my wallet,” he says. “We don’t have to go all the way. But if you want to…”
“I want to.” You kiss him, taking his breath away. “I want you, Colin. All of you.”
He can’t help but groan, kissing you deeply as his hand slides up the back of your shirt, reveling in the heated flesh under his palm. One of your hands grips his shirt, while the other runs through his hair, coming to rest on the nape of his neck. It’s like you’re trying to hold him against you so he doesn’t leave, which he has absolutely no intentions of doing.
Colin pulls back just enough to push your shirt up so he can cup your breast, marveling in the softness of it as he bends his head to take your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp is beautifully erotic and Colin closes his eyes, lavishing the soft bud with his tongue while his other hand massages your other breast. You wrestle the shirt up and off, chucking it off to the side. Your body is wonderfully stretched out beneath Colin, eager and waiting for everything and anything he wants to do.
Teasing the bud in his mouth until it’s stiff, he plants several kisses along your breastbone before switching his attention to the other breast. You’re already panting, your chest rising and falling steadily under his ministrations. He feels your arms come around him, your legs wrap around his waist, and then the next thing he knows, you’re rolling him onto his back, tugging on his hair so he’s forced to draw away from your breasts and look up at you.
You kiss him deeply, before sitting back and tugging on his t-shirt. “Take this off. Now.”
His cock is rock hard at the dominate display and he scrambles to do as you say, sitting up just enough to rid himself of his shirt. The second he does, your hand is on his chest, pushing him back into the pillows as you lay a trail of hot kisses down, down, down…
You lavish his hip bone with love bites as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Colin’s heart slams against his ribcage as he watches you pull his underwear down, his cock pink and swollen, begging for your attention.
Your eyes never leave his, however. As you carelessly toss his underwear over your shoulder, you keep staring at his face, even when you wrap your hand around him and give him an experimental squeeze. Colin loses the staring contest instantly, letting his eyes close and his head fall back. It’s been far too long since he’s had a hand other than his own around himself. His teeth dig into his bottom lip the moment you take him into your mouth, gently sucking on his already oversensitive tip.
“Fuck!” he mutters under his breath, one of his hands reaching down for you.
You take him fully into your mouth and he about has a heart attack, remembering to be careful just before he thrusts up. Not that you seem to mind. In fact, he feels your hand grab his and you bring it to the back of your head, letting him know it’s okay. Colin pushes down as he thrusts up and you go along with his movements, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat before you pull up and do it again. And again. And again.
His body is already drenched in sweat as he gently fucks your mouth. His free hand reaches up to fist the pillow under his head. He needs to see. Needs to have a visual to go with the mind-blowing sensations that have taken over.
Colin forces his eyes open and is met with your staring back at him as you bob your head up and down on his cock. Watching your lips stretched around him is almost too much to handle. There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes, and when Colin’s blurry gaze focuses just past you, he can see your hand in your shorts, touching yourself as you suck on his cock.
The urge to touch and taste you overwhelms him to the point where he pulls you off of him, sitting up in eager anticipation. You push yourself onto your knees but don’t have a chance to do much else as he grabs your wrist, yanking it out of your shorts and immediately slipping your soaked fingers into his mouth. With a moan, his eyes close as he savors the taste of you. It’s not enough. He needs more.
One quick, filthy kiss and then he has you on your back again, pulling your shorts off to find you’re not wearing panties. Colin throws your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between them, lips descending on your wet cunt that begs for his attention. It’s your turn to close your eyes and fall back against the pillows, your turn to lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth sampling your arousal as if it’s the most delicious dessert on the planet.
Colin loses track of time.
All he knows is the taste of you and the increasing volume of your moans, muffled by your thighs clamped around his ears. Your hands tangle in his hand, pulling and tugging on the strands in encouragement. At least, Colin hopes its encouragement. Judging by the way your body is trembling, he’s willIng to bet that it is.
Moments later, you’re saying something. Something he can’t quite hear. He only realizes it’s a warning when your body suddenly locks into place, practically suffocating him between your legs. Honestly, he doesn’t mind. If that’s how he leaves this world, so be it.
He kisses and tastes you through your orgasm, only coming up for air when your legs slip from his sweaty shoulders. You’re so fucking beautiful. Your face is glowing in post-orgasmic bliss, eyes hooded as you smile down at him. Colin gives you a few more kisses before resting his chin on your belly.
“How’d I do?”
“Ten out of ten. Would do again.”
He chuckles as he pushes himself up to lean over you. With a smile, you stroke his cheek, your gaze so full of admiration and affection, it makes his heart twist. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, before rolling off of you to retrieve his wallet from his abandoned pants.
Condom in hand, he turns back to you, only to find his mouth preoccupied by yours in your attempt to kiss the life out of him. At least, that’s what it feels like. Colin sighs longingly as he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.
You push him onto his back, straddling his waist with that damn smirk of yours that will now forever get his blood pumping. Colin opens the foil package and rolls the condom on, tossing the wrapper onto your nightstand. You knock his hand away when he’s done, gripping him at the base and lifting yourself up just enough to push the blunt head of his cock against your slit.
Colin flexes, thrusting up to push his way into you for the first time.
Your moans are loud as he slowly slides into you, while you start to work yourself up and down on his cock. It takes all his willpower not to trust into your heat all at once. He wants to, fuck does he want to, but he’s a patient man. He can wait until you’re ready for him. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as you work together, both making small movements until he bottoms out, your thighs pressed snuggly against his.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You open your eyes and smirk at him, rising up before coming back down quicker than before. “More than. Fuck me, Colin.”
And he does.
Gripping your hips, Colin fucks himself in and out of you, watching with wide eyes as you ride him. It’s a beautiful erotic sight that he knows he’ll be picturing for days to come. You’re so confident and in-control, using him for your pleasure however you’d like. It only makes him harder, makes him want to please you more. The way you moan and call out his name is the best music in the world. His fingers dig into your skin as his movements speed up to match yours. The bed rocks and squeaks, headboard banging loudly against the wall.
Colin knows he’s not going to last. How can he? You’re so fucking stunning and sexy, and the idea that he’s the one making you like this, making you moan and gasp, is too much for him to handle.
“Baby…” he groans. “I’m going to…I’m going to cum.”
“Yes, Colin, yes,” you moan, hands splayed on his chest. “Come for me.”
He forces himself to sit up as you keep going, one arm wrapped around your waist while he holds you close with the other, his forehead pressing against yours. Your hot breath mingles with his in an attempt at a sloppy kiss, which quickly ends when Colin comes.
His breath comes out in gasps as he fucks up into you, filling the condom with his release. But he’s not selfish, not in the slightest. His hand worms between your bodies, thumb seeking your swollen nub between your legs. It only takes a few hasty rubs before you’re coming again, crushing him against your chest as your hand fists his hair.
The two of you collapse backwards in a sweaty, panting mess of limbs.
Stars dance before Colin’s eyes and he struggles to remember how to breathe. That was…indescribable. Never in his life has he ever had such a passionate, heat filled love-making session. Because that’s what he considers it: making-love. There was too much fire, too much emotion for it to just be about sex.
“Fuck, Zabel.” Your face in buried in his neck, your chest moving rapidly with his. “Now I’m really mad we were interrupted last time.”
Colin lets out a breathless laugh, placing a few kisses on your forehead. “Did you…I mean, I take it you enjoyed it?”
You pull away, eyes wide with shock. “Hell yeah.” You smirk, squirming on top of him just enough for him to feel the remnants of your arousal. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”
He smirks back, stroking your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours. “It was. Doesn’t mean I still don’t like to hear it.”
You kiss him and he holds you close, basking in the giddiness that fills his chest. A moment later, you roll off of him with a wince. Colin takes the time to carefully remove his condom, tying it off and shoving it into the wrapper he discarded earlier.
“How many of those do you have with you?” you purr, curling against his side to lay kisses on his chest.
“At least three.”
“Perfect. You’re going to need every one of them.”
“Dear god, woman, you’re going to kill me.”
“Nah. Just ride you until we’re both too sore to move.”
“Good thing we have the day off then, huh?”
“Exactly. Now, let’s make the most of it.”
Colin grins and pulls you into another kiss. In the back of his mind, he knows there’s still so much you two need to talk about. But that can wait. Right now, he has more important things to do, like seeing if he can make you moan that loud again.
@lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64
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vibrant shades | g.b.
Anne With An E - Gilbert Blythe x Reader, fluff
word count: 995
song: tourist - yuna | ⏳
A/N: awae’s gIlbert blythe is so soft... you are all so valid for falling in love with him. none of us are immune.
Summary: Life was steadily moving onward, and while you weren’t sure what came next, you were certain that you didn’t want to forget Gilbert Blythe, and you didn’t want him to forget you, either.
"Oh, (Y/n)... I uh, didn't think you'd be here."
Gilbert stood beneath the great sycamore tree, his neck craned upward, and his hands shoved in his pockets. High above him, you sat in its thick branches, the dappled and dying sun kissing your cheeks. You hadn't startled when he walked up; it was almost as though you were expecting him all along.
Your eyes were trained on the horizon - something captivating and sparkling in the burgeoning dusk. Gilbert found himself smiling bashfully at the sight of you, his lips tugging upward slightly. He looked down.
"I can come back if you need some space, or—"
"It's alright, Gilbert. You're the one who showed me this spot, remember? If anything, I'm intruding. Come and take a seat, if you want. We don't even have to talk."
"Alright," Gilbert relented, "I guess I'll hang around for a little while... While you're here." His eyes darted upward to catch your appeased grin. Funny - did you even know you did it? Did you consciously smile whenever he agreed with you, or did it slip out of you the way he could never seem to suppress his joy when you were in proximity? Gilbert shook his head at his thoughts.
He started to climb.
Avonlea was a minute pinprick on a globe, but for as long as Gilbert had been alive, it had been his whole world. Even when he was on the steamship, his thoughts carried him back to Avonlea and the vibrancy of its quaint charm. One of the places he longed for the most was this sycamore - this tree that had always belonged to the both of you, a small bit of heaven you split two ways and savored together.
Gilbert wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere between the changing seasons and his numerous and constant climbs up this tree, he had fallen in love with you. Part of Gilbert wanted to say it - look you deep in your pensive eyes and spin stories of grandeur. He'd tell you how he had traveled the world, and nowhere felt more comfortable than here, beside you. Or maybe he'd exhaust the dictionary, pulling every last word he could remember to explain the way you made him feel - comfortable but novel, a feeling he knew and couldn't seem to get enough of. Another part of Gilbert wanted to stay silent and just savor the smiles that crossed your face, simply memorize you in your full glory.
Part of him wanted to speak until his voice was hoarse and the sun went down, leaving you both in beautiful oblivion where no one could see what would happen next. Another part of him worried he'd say too much, and your silence wouldn't be for appreciation for stillness but lack of words.
Gilbert wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he knew he'd like to sit here and have the both of you stay - if only for a little while.
Gilbert settled on a branch just higher than you, pulling himself up a final time. Dusk was settling in, and a soft, summer breeze blew through the air, ruffling his hair. You closed your eyes against its gentle caress. Gilbert memorized the way your eyelashes fell against your cheeks, how your shoulder straightened, and your whole being seemed to ease into the steadily approaching night.
"I know I said we don't have to talk, but all I ask is that you listen and give me one word in response." Your words were slow and steady, and they cut through the night gently. You opened your eyes to train them on him.
Gilbert nodded, his brow furrowed, waiting to hear what would come next. "Sure... anything."
"Whether you end up going to the Sorbonne or Queen's - or anywhere else, for that matter - just... promise you won't forget." You fidgetted with your hands, and from his vantage point, Gilbert could see the way the sun fell on your shoulders and highlighted their dejected slope. "Avonlea is tiny, and the bit that I inhabit is smaller still, but I don't want it to be nothing. I know you've traveled the world - and you'll continue to do that forever - but, Gilbert... don't let me fade away."
The end of your sentence drifted upward as though it were a prayer. For a moment, Gilbert was stunned.
"I could never forget you, (Y/n). No matter where I go, the thought of you is with me. You're not nothing; you're not a footnote in my story - you're everything," Gilbert said. And his voice must have carried all the conviction that was laced in his chest because you looked up at him, and something in your eyes said you believed him. "I..."
All he could see was a daring fragility in your eyes - something hopeful and steeped in love. There was something hot in his belly, and that fire made its way into his cheeks. Gilbert was losing words to describe precisely what it was you were, but one thought stuck out against them all. He grabbed it with both hands, not worrying if he'd fall.
"I'm love-ridden - I... love you."
And the sun was still dying on the far off horizon, its beautiful colors not yet having succumbed to the dark oblivion of night, and all the world was still. The wind came by again, rustling the leaves and mussing his hair. You smiled, and Gilbert wondered how anyone could possibly forget this place when you were more beautiful and more captivating than anything else in this world. How could you fade away when the most vibrant shades of Gilbert's life were those memories full of Avonlea and you?
"I love you, too, Gilbert Blythe," and it was a mix between relief and unbridled joy. You laughed, and soon Gilbert was laughing with you - the sweet release of revelry floating upward, reaching the heavens.
taglist: @fives-cup-of-coffee, @amortensie // message me if you want to be added!
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I know it’s long been tradition for fandom/social media culture to tell people to just ignore the hate they get. Ignore it and it’ll go away. Don’t feed the trolls with attention. Don’t worry about it, you’re great. Etc. Which is fine to a certain extent, but it doesn’t solve anything. Not everyone can ignore the hate or just turn a blind eye to it and not have it affect them. Not everyone can shrug it off. Not everyone can just let it roll off their backs and not have the words affect their state of mind and health.
Ignoring hate just absolves bullies of accountability and responsibility. There are ways to mitigate hateful messages: not sharing private contact information, not sharing personal information, creating an extensive blocklist, blockchains, muting tags and words, turning off anon, reporting the harmful posts and tweets, attempting to curate your own online space. But at the end of the day, all of that might not be enough.
I’m not really sure what the solution is here, or if there is one. It’s just frustrating that people think it’s okay to aggressively intrude into your space when all you’ve done is create work you wanted to make, or expressed an opinion they might not agree with. I’m not talking about criticism (which if expressed in a constructive way can be fine for harmful subjects) but actual threats of violence and vehemence.
Since when are anon messages telling you to harm yourself bc you created fictional content someone doesn’t like an appropriate response? Since when is it okay to call people things like “waste of existence” and explode over depictions of characters being gay? Since when are tweets like, “ik people say violence isn’t the answer but sometimes it is,” over an innocent sfw drawing bc a fandom thinks they own a canon character and other ships aren’t allowed to include them a sane response? It’s absurd.
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We often came across several uncomfortable situations where we have no control over others. But how to handle uncomfortable situations is a technique that we can master. You must be wondering about the uncomfortable situations. Don’t you? Well, haven’t you faced a situation when sometimes the person you are talking to or the person you are involved in discussion with, tries to intrude on your personal space? You must have. Isn’t it? There are other uncomfortable situations where you forget the person’s name or you are being asked a personal question that you don’t want to answer.
tw. extreme microaggression, adoption and body dysmorphia implication
YOU HAVE TO LOVE THE SKIN YOU’RE IN FIRST.
a plethora of her biological mother’s words are scribbled on papers hidden beneath her pillow, but that’s the phrase that stuck with cherry the most. stubborn cherry, argued down by a woman who knew all too well what this world will tell her about the body she was born in.
YOU HAVE TO LOVE THE SKIN YOU’RE IN. YOU HAVE TO BE PROUD OF IT.
“ and there you have it, ” the recorded sound of a woman’s voice is heard from the other side of her cell phone, a video titled 5 LOOKS FOR NATURAL HAIR that she had paused and rewinded over fifteen times. “ the perfect looks for my natural haired queens. go and slay. ” TWO SPACE BUNS SIT on top of her head , the rest of her defined curls hanging loosely as the tutorial clicks off. a mess of hair products sit atop a pearly white bathroom countertop; the got2b glue previously smeared on finger tips being washed off underneath a faucet before stepping back to admire her work.
you have to love the skin you’re in. there was no smoke surrounding the bathroom from the strands of hair she’d burn just to pin them straight, the flat iron stayed comfortably underneath a variety of products in her bottom cabinet. for cherry, as she stared down at the curls she was so used to tucking away into pony tails, as if doing so could hide her skin color, it was natural, it was comfortable, and it all seemed to click. she was proud of it.
the pride being evident even as she heard a knock on the bathroom door, opening it to reveal her mother in a long nightgown, holding out her arm. “ i was outside for hours yesterday, i’m almost as black as you are now, cher. ” a jolt in brows as brown hues adjust to glance at the pale skin her mother was referring to, only for a burnt shade of redness from the sun to be returned. said jokes among the family, mostly at the expense of the adopted member whose brown skin compared to their cream color was an excellent way for her to feel left out, were nothing new for cherry. they’re just jokes, the group would claim at the dinner table, so much so that she trained herself to laugh at them.
there was no time to laugh now, however, as more important matters intruded her mother’s thoughts than whether or not her daughter would find the comment offensive. “ what are you doing with your hair? ” there was only one person more critical about cherry’s appearance than cherry herself. a woman who, when the child was at the mere age of five, put permanent straightener in her daughter’s hair so she didn’t have to bother with the tangles. the feeling of joy her natal mother preached about began to sink, muttering an I DON’T KNOW under her breath. cold hands place themselves on either side of her cheeks, the touch mimics affection, but she could tell simply by the look in her mother’s misty grey eyes she felt the complete opposite. “ you look like one of those inner city kids. i can’t have you going to school like that. ” disgust running rampant through her timbre, pressing her lips to the girl’s forehead to ease her words. “ straighten your hair. you look much prettier when it’s straightened. ”
she shuts the door, although an ice remains on her cheeks from where her hands were placed, the separation between the two leaves cherry alone in the bathroom to pick up the slights aimed towards her. her attention is paid to the mirror fully, where she sends a dry chuckle to her reflection while observing the style she spent the morning perfecting; only now noticing the bits of hair poking outside of the buns she put them in, and the way the edges of her hair refused to stay in place despite the load of gel she lathered on to it. a fucking mess, she thinks. and her mother was right, she looks a lot better when it’s straightened.
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Trigger Warnings: Gun usage, blood, violence, death, slight non-con.
REQUEST: Mafia Bangtan's reaction to Y/n being shot for or because of them. I would like to see a very worried reaction because I imagine that the mafia version boys behave a lot like that with the reader" @dramaclub-thin
If anyone else wants to request you can here.
There was an almighty shattering noise in the middle of the night that woke you up. Eyes springing open turning to the side of the bed for reassurance, but Namjoon isn't there. Only a shape in the dark that grabs at you tearing you from your bed. You have no sense of your surroundings, and having been torn from your dreams you're not in the right mind to quickly piece together what is happening. You only know to fight. And you do. Kicking and struggling, fighting with all you have to pull free. Until the moment you reach the top of the stairs and are thrown down them.
Your entire body is an aching wreck as you reach the bottom, your leg especially radiating with a sharp, incredible pain. You're certain it's broken. Your vision spotty, head thumping and dazed you are dragged along the tiles into the lit kitchen-dining area.
"If you run now," Joon's chillingly calm voice catches your ear pulling you from your stupor. "if you hide really fucking well, you might survive the week."
There are several voices laughing around you. Focusing your eyes against the sudden light, you can see 5 unknown men standing in the space. All the furniture is thrown about, pushed away to create a larger open space. To your distress, one of the men has a gun pointed at Namjoons head, forcing him to kneel on the ground, his hands behind his head.
You yelp as the original attacker's hand mattes into your hair dragging you onto your knees also. You wince and whimper at the sharp pain running up and down your thigh. He squats down to speak at your level, the hard tip of a gun pressing into your skull.
"You should tell your man not to threaten the guys that have all the power." He says in your ear, but in a showy, loud manner meant mostly for Namjoons benefit. "Or is this just a random whore I can shoot?" He asks with a rhetorical tone showing he already knows who you are and your importance to Namjoon.
Even with tears starting to cloud your vision, you can see Joon tensing and tightening. His expression hardening, his chin jutting out. He is staying silent doing his best to remain calm and composed.
"We take your shipments." The man stands, pacing back and forth in between the two of you, "We blow up your storehouse, but apparently you aren't hearing us. So I figured we'd just come straight to the big boss." He squats this time in front of Namjoon throwing a fist into his jaw, making his arms drop from behind his head, but otherwise barely moving him. Only managing to darken Joons expression.
The intruder scoffs at the lack of reaction, standing and backing up. "See that's what I heard. You're a tough motherfucker." He continues to pace backwards coming in line with you. "It'd be useless tryna hurt you."
You cry out as his fist suddenly drives down into your cheek. Unlike Joon, you feel the full force of it, and it smacks you straight into the floor, your head bouncing off the tiles.
Looking up to Namjoon with blurred eyes you see a moment of contemplation in his eyes. He's running over all of his options. Deciding whether or not to jump up and try to kill every single one of them, or to be patient.
Resigning on the later he rolls his neck, his biceps bulging against his t-shirt as his hands clench in fists by his side. "It's okay, baby. It's all gonna be okay." He releases his anger and hate to soothe you in a calming tone.
All of the men join in another snide laugh. The leader yanks you back onto your knees, once again clawing at your hair. He draws you flat against him, your back pressed into his legs. "I wouldn't be so sure. You don't even know what we're gonna do to her yet." He chuckles, his free hand trailing down your neck, dipping inside your singlet. You struggle and writhe, unsuccessfully trying to resist him as his fingers grope and dig into your bare breast. Squealing at the invasion as he does it harder and more painfully to get a larger response from you.
He bunches your shirt and grabs the front, tearing it over your head exposing you to the room. Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, bringing your arms over your chest, you try to smother any other acknowledgment, not wanting to give him or any of them the satisfaction, and mostly not wanting to make this harder for Namjoon. You know he will be livid and hurt from all of this happening to you. Not being able to stop it. You may die here and you don't want the last thing you do to add to Joons misery.
"I'm gonna-" Namjoon has to pause to control his breathing, nearly too furious to speak. "rip. you. into pieces."
The man snickers, shrugging. "What did I say about threatening the guy with the gun."
With a loud bang that pierces through your ear, he shoots your leg. Your eyes jump open. The sudden pain has you unable to stifle a scream. Doubling over to hold the same thigh that has the broken bone.
"At this rate, we're gonna end up killing her before any of us get to fuck her." One of the other men laughs, feigning exacerbation.
"I don't mind that." Another sickly jokes.
It becomes too much and Namjoon can't restrain himself. He begins to stand, getting his foot up, only to be interrupted by a warning.
"Uh-uh." The leader tuts, kicking you over onto your side, pointing his gun down at your head again.
There are tears streaming across your face. Your fear taking a back seat to the throbbing agony up your side. You're biting the back of your hand trying desperately to smother any sobs or screams.
As you pant and whimper, something near a smile pulls onto Joons face and catches your eye. He's lowered back onto his knees, a cold, calm, and collected intensity in his gaze. "You trust me, baby?" he asks in a low deep tone.
Even in this fucked up situation, you know there is only one answer. You nod, lip trembling. He smiles softly at you, nodding back trying to reassure you.
His attention returns to your attacker, a sharp bloodthirsty intensity filling his demeanour. "I gave you the chance to run. Now you're dead. Every single one of your men are dead." he roars, a powerful, controlled savageness to his tone that has them all unwittingly on edge, "I'm going to burn down anything that has ever had even a whisper of your name to it, until the only reason you are ever remembered is as a warning to never fuck with me!"
You hear the shot, feel the splatter of blood across your face. For a moment you can't be sure if you have been shot again. Until the leader drops to the floor clutching a hole in his arm. Another man collapses to the floor with a divet blown from his head.
There's no clarity in the whirlwind of chaos breaks out. Shooting, screaming, blood, all swarming around you in a mad panic, until one by one, the intruders begin to drop to the ground and the Bangtan members start to stream into the room.
Namjoon crawls through the scene, rushing to you. His body wraps over yours keeping you covered. "My brave Baby. You did so well." He coos in your ear." You're so strong. I'm so proud of you." He comforts you as if a war scene isn't breaking out all around you.
It doesn't take more than a few minutes for the violence to die down. As the shooting stops, Namjoon unwraps from you letting you see the destruction around you. All 6 of the other core members are here and they've completely annihilated the intruders. All dead on the ground, bar 2 of them. The leader and the man who joked about not being able to fuck you. Both of them are surrounded, on the ground, bloodied, hurt, and defeated.
Joon stands, wordlessly signalling to the boys, who nod back and move to action.
"Let's get you to the hospital." He picks you into his arms, carrying you slowly and gently out of the house. "You're going to be okay Baby." He assures you. At his back, back in the living room you can hear the most spine-chilling scream from the men. It makes you jolt and shudder from the raw pain of it. "Don't worry baby," He hushes, kissing away the tears on your cheek. "he's gonna suffer a lot."
"Good." You pout, burying your head into his chest.
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(Continuation of Icy Hands)
(WARNINGS: soft yandere!ghiaccio, touch starved!darling, implied morning after, melone is a nosy little shit, slight crack)
Ghiaccio wakes to find your soft naked body intertwined with his, sheets covering both of your forms, and your head in the space between his neck and shoulder. You were finally in his arms, you were finally his. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, pushing his lips into your forehead for a kiss and inhaling deeply. Both of your bodies were littered with marks from the previous night of passion, pinkish-red bites, scratches, and small bruises. He'd wear them with pride and enjoy the sight of you walking around little traces of him on you. Ghiacchio gets up, careful not to wake you from your well-needed rest. Grabbing his white t-shirt off a chair from the corner of the room, he's interrupted by a few quick knocks at the door. What is it now damn it??? It's only 6 am.
"Ghiaccio, it's me, Melone~ Are you busy?? It sounded like you were last night, I would never have guess you two would become a thing over night! Di molto!"
He stomped over to the door, pissed off by the intrusion of peace from the purple haired man. You could almost see steam rising out of his ears and nose, but Melone already expected that. Swinging the door open aggressively, his rage-contorted face staring directly at him through the door way.
"WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT."
His voice wasn't anything above a whisper, you were still sleeping after all, but it was evident he wanted to scream until his vocal chords snapped. WHY THE HELL WAS HE INTRUDING NOW OF ALL TIMES?? IM GOING TO KILL YOU MELONE.
"Oh come on don't give me that, I just want to know all the lewd details, bello~" He licked his lips to emphasize just how much he wanted to know about his private bedroom business.
"Did [Name] have fun too?? Just how loud were they? Well pretty loud considering I could hear it from my room! How many times did you make them cu-"
The door slamming in Melone's face is what ended up waking you from your deep sleep, What happened last night? Where am I? Oh right, it's Ghiaccio's room. He wasn't next to you, but rather in front of the door that had just been slammed closed. You needed him next to you.
"Ghia..? Come back please.."
Your sleep filled voice snapped him out of his rage quickly, causing him to rush back over to your side. Looking into your half lidded eyes, he wished you goodmorning softly,
"Buon giorno, tesoro. I hope you slept well.."
"Ghiaccio, would you and [Name] mind if I joined you in bed next time?? I promise I'll treat them nice and good!!"
"I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY, MELONE. THEY'RE MINE AND I'M NOT SHARING."
Their bickering was a quite funny awakening, but not unwelcomed. You were just glad to be with him now. Everything was perfect, it happened faster than expected but you could get used to life with Ghiaccio.
"I love you, [Name.] You're mine, and I'm yours, right?"
meloghia threesome???! maybe in the future you horny little shits!! just kidding, but possibly if anyone is down for a sort of spin off to this. and what if i threw in a suprise and made melone yandere for both of you too??
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yeet: the ship+sleep ask thing: soldier/spy :)))))
yo thanks mate :))
Who is a night owl: Spy. he has insomnia so he doesn’t get much sleep anyways
Who is a morning person: Neither. just because Spy wakes up early doesn’t mean he’s a morning person lol
Who is a cuddler: Soldier is the biggest cuddler around, you can’t get out his arms if he’s still asleep
Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon: soldier is the big spoon and spy is the little spoon, which is kind of awkward since spy is taller
What is their favourite sleeping position: cuddling very closely. spy is skinny as all hell, desert nights are cold, and soldier is like a space heater. everett hunt comes together
Who steals all the blankets: they share :)
Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt: soldier. spy’s wouldn’t fit soldier lol
Who falls asleep mid-conversation: soldier! spy needs time to fall asleep but soldier is like a rock. he’ll fall asleep where ever and whenever
Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: spy, but sleeping with soldier help keeps them away
Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: they both have. spy bc he woke up from a nightmare in a panic and lashed out at soldier, and soldier bc he thought spy was an intruder in his bed
Who can’t keep their hands to themselves: soldier just likes having spy in his arms (not that spy wants to complain)
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Chuckling when appearing out of thin air and rubbing the back of his head in that sheepish manner, “Again with how my friend tends to be fussy of his personal space I see.” given he still pushed to boundaries from time to time and granted little rights of intruding on personal space with said friend though was he mindful at times thankfully.
Jukebox Appreciation Week (WIP): Six-Sentence Saturday
I’m pretty sure I missed the last check-in day for @jukebox-week so I’m trying to make up for it by posting way more than six sentences today. Not sure what I’m calling this one yet, but it’s for Day 5 (May 28): Eats & Beats Day and it’s very rough so don’t look too closely!
Be sure to check out the list of prompts for the week-- it’s coming up quick and I’m getting excited. Hope you all are too!
Julie’s up by the stove, her back facing him when Luke pokes his head into the kitchen, nose leading his eyes toward the oven where a tray of cinnamon rolls are baking away.
“Those smell dangerous,” he says, effectively alerting her of his presence.
“Tia Victoria’s recipe,” Julie says, topping up her cup of coffee and blowing at the tendrils of steam curling up and off the top. “Just wait until you taste them.”
His mouth waters at the mention of the word taste. He can’t remember the last time he’d been treated to fresh baked pastries early in the morning, though he suspects it was some time long before they’d died in 1995.
Being able to eat now in 2020 is new, but Luke’s not complaining and neither are the boys. It’s one of those Alive Traits that has somehow returned to them after the touching and the sleeping had. They might have not even realized had it not been for the way Reggie had mindlessly swiped a strip of bacon off Julie’s plate on Monday morning and taken a bite without even realizing what he’d been doing. It’s been Ray who’s been cooking like crazy since the start of the week, or Tia Victoria breezing through with a flurry of delectable dishes, piling their plates up high as though she’s determined to make sure he, and Alex and Reggie make up for the 25 years they spent not eating in the span of seven days. This is the first time Luke’s seen Julie in the kitchen cooking up a storm though, and there’s something about the ease at which she floats through the space that’s utterly captivating in a way he’d never expected.
“Tia Victoria goes to church and then pilates on Sundays, and my dad likes to sleep in,” Julie says without preamble, answering the unspoken question Luke hadn’t even realized he’d been pondering. “My mom used to take care of Sunday breakfast, so now that she’s gone, I do it instead.”
There’s a far away look in Julie’s eyes that makes Luke feel as though perhaps he’d unknowingly intruded on a moment Julie might have preferred to keep between herself and her mother.
“I was gonna fiddle with a few things anyway,” he starts, gesturing toward the songbook in his hand. “So I’ll just get out of your hair and leave you to it.”
“Will you stay actually?” Julie asks, catching his wrist in a gentle grip. She’s closer than he’d expected her to be when he turns at her touch, her brown eyes looking as warm and as inviting as the coffee she’s holding in the hand that’s not holding him. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”
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A Strange One (pt. XX)
YO I MADE IT TO PT. 20 WHAT THE SHIT?? i'm so excited. this is actually super long though...so good luck :D
part 19 is here, masterlist is here
tag list (HAVE A CUPCAKE, Y'ALL! 🧁): @pretty-face-breaker, @spookypookie101
cw (a doozy): pregnancy d/t noncon/r--- mention, hospital setting, injury mention, pain medication use, whump/physical attack aftermath, very degrading + manipulative text messages, flashback/dissociation, nightmares d/t trauma, processing noncon/r---, uncertainty of completing pregnancy, fear of abandonment, whumpee self-deprecation, mention of physically abusive father, past drug use mention, parental death mention, swearing
They knew she was one of theirs when each of the boys fought over who could sit next to unconscious Skylar and hold her hand. Their protectiveness was immeasurable, and so was their relief when the doctors said she would indeed recover. Her subclavian artery had been hit—albeit barely—in the attack, and had the hospital and help not been closeby, she may not have made it. A blood transfusion and multiple bags of IV fluids into her emergency room trip, the doctors moved Skylar to her own room in the hospital.
Skylar woke up to unidentified tubes, lines, and wires. Terrified, she jolted and regretted it instantly. It was Vin’s turn to sit by her, and he sat up quickly, trying to calm Skylar down.
“Hey, hey—you’re in the hospital. Try to stay lying down,” Vin directed.
“Wh-where...is she, did they…”
“They got her. She’s in custody right now, last we heard. The security guards found her out back.”
Skylar looked around the room, sighing loudly in frustration when she realized she’d be here awhile. “I’m so tired of this shit, Vin; when are people gonna stop trying to kill me?!” she vented.
Vin nodded. “I know you’re tired of it. I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be. But for now; here, you are safe. Everyone is making sure of that.”
The soft tone calmed Skylar’s upset some, and she shifted to a less pinching position for her shoulder. “Thank you, Vin.”
Vin nodded calmly, noticing Jack and Will’s voices coming down the hallway.
“Oh! Oh, she’s up!” Will noticed, waving awkwardly.
Skylar managed a smile. “Hey,” she greeted.
Will had been told not to intrude on Skylar’s personal space, since she might be in pain, so he fought the urge to run and give her a hug. “We got you something,” Will announced.
“No, Will got you something and made me pay for it,” Jack corrected, seeming to be at peak annoyance. “The prices are fucking stupid here.”
“Pay for what?” Skylar asked.
Will pulled a stuffed teddy bear and a modest bouquet of white lilies and purple asters from behind his back, and Skylar gave a smile like no other. “Oh, my god, you’re both the nicest, thank you!”
She gave Will a one-armed hug, which he gladly accepted, then looked up at Jack.
“What?” he asked, seeing her look at him.
“Oh, don’t be like that.”
“Like a crabby asshole,” Skylar insisted, much to the boys’ amusement.
“A crabby a—oh, what, now you don’t want me to be honest with you?” Jack questioned sternly, but Skylar could see the smile he was hiding. “You doing okay?”
“I’m okay,” she replied. “Kinda angry, but I’m okay.”
“I share your anger. Did they bring food yet? Not that hospital food’s edible anyway,” Jack snarked.
“Not yet,” Vin responded.
“Stupid, gremlin-ass fuckers, of course they didn’t bring the food. Little bitches feed off of—why are you laughing??”
“I’m sorry…” Skylar’s snorts of joviality were unmissable.
“What is it now?” Jack growled, portraying his fear through irritation.
“Nothing, except…” Skylar burst into a flood of hilarity. “You look fucking hilarious when you’re mad.”
Will and Vin swapped looks with each other and lost it, immediately turning around to hide their lack of composure.
“Guys, shut up, it’s not funny,” Jack snapped.
It only made the three laugh harder. Even the all-stoic Jack was struggling to keep a straight face. “You want to know the truth? Their shit’s too expensive downstairs; the food, the stupid shit in the store, and everybody takes too goddamn long to come and reply to one simple question—they don’t even answer until they’ve gone through the fucking president’s phone tree! I’m just being honest.”
“I know, that’s what’s so funny!!” Skylar giggled, turning red.
“Then I’ll just leave if I’m that funny to you, you...smartass,” he mumbled.
“Smartass,” Vin repeated in a wheeze, doubled over.
“Stop,” Jack ordered.
There was a brief pause, but the order didn’t work.
The crew returned to cackling uncontrollably and Jack stood up in a huff to leave. But since Will was bleary-eyed from finding Skylar’s read on Jack so funny, he stumbled backwards over the hospital tray and hit the ground, making Vin and Skylar crack up even more. Jack stopped in the doorway, finally facepalming at that. He even cracked a grin and started wheezing too.
“You’re all a bunch of losers,” he chuckled, walking over just to smack Vin on the shoulder.
The laughing continued for ‘far too long’, but it was indeed a nice break from the stress.
The evening of the friends’ shenanigans, Jack volunteered to stay the night with Skylar, since Vin had work in the morning and much to Will’s dismay, there wasn’t enough room for a second guest.
The beeping of the hospital machines coupled with hypervigilance surrounding the worry of what if one of Kenneth’s minions tries to sneak in here and start something? was keeping Jack from sleeping fully. At least, both factors kept him from sleeping until Skylar let out a yelp in her sleep.
Jack threw his covers off and quickly moved next to Skylar, flipping on the light behind her gurney. He was glad there wasn’t a physical attacker, but his heart rate still stayed high. Physical attacker or not, it was still difficult to see her relive these memories, even though they weren’t happening in the here-and-now.
“Skylar, nobody’s there, you’re in the hospital,” Jack tried to reassure over the gradually increasing panic of the sleeping girl.
“G-get away, get away,” Skylar kept repeating, over and over.
Jack wondered who she was wishing would ‘get away,’ but had learned through hours of research that it was best not to shake her out of these. He stated her location and reassured her she was safe tens of times, not tiring of repeating himself, but tired of seeing her in pain.
“Sweetheart, you’re fine; I mean, you’re safe. Can I hold your hand or something? Would that help?” offered Jack.
He set an open hand near her in case she could hear his offer and wanted to take him up on it. Amidst her flailing, she retracted quickly after feeling skin that wasn’t hers, but stopped, realizing it wasn’t there to hurt her. Hesitantly, Skylar’s hand felt for Jack’s again until her fingers gripped it tightly while she tried to filter through dark memories and return to the present.
“It’s alright, Skylar. You’re okay,” Jack promised, holding her hand securely.
Moments after, Jack heard her breathing speed up, felt her hand slip from his to cover her face, and watched her writhe to get away from someone.
That’s enough. She’s hurt enough.
“Can you hear me?”
Skylar whispered her trademark, “Trying,” and curled back into her pillows.
I’m going soft, damnit, but I guess it’s the right thing to do, right? I can’t just leave her like this.
After thinking of what he could do, he blurted out, “Can I give you a hug?”
Jack couldn’t believe the words even left his mouth. But they had, and whatever Skylar’s response was, Jack was still going to be there however he could.
“Y-yeah,” Skylar managed.
Jack took a seat on the gurney and scooped Skylar up into a safe bear hug. “No one’s gonna hurt you, Skylar.” He grimaced at how bad he was flunking saying the right things, but his voice grew softer when he realized his words were actually helping. “No one can hurt you when I’m here. I wouldn’t let ‘em.”
Skylar wasn’t entirely sure who she had accepted this warm embrace from yet, but somewhere in her mind she determined that this was a safe person. “There you go,” Jack said as she loosened the tension in her shoulders some.
From the table, Jack heard Skylar’s phone buzz. Obviously concerned based on what happened that morning, he unlocked the phone with her limp thumb and while balancing her against him, read the messages flooding her inbox.
-Skylar you’re a trash whore and we should’ve killed you.
-You’re just as low as your mother, getting her arrested like that. Fucking idiot!
-I know what you did, you insolent wretch.
-Don’t want to respond to me? I dare you to ignore me. I’ll show up at your new best friend’s house and whale the tar out of you.
-You’re dead. You’re nothing.
-Remember the only thing you’re good for while you’re getting care you don’t deserve.
Jack felt his heart in his throat at each of the messages. These were awful.
And from the dates of the backlogs, these texts had been coming in nearly every single day since Skylar had been living at Jack’s house. It was no wonder she was having so many nightmares. Skylar had even tried to put a stop to it, by replying to one particularly vile message weeks ago with:
-You’re the one who sent me back, so leave me alone. I’ll call the police if you don’t quit messaging me. I told you to stop.
To which Mason had only replied:
-Oh, you wouldn’t want me to tell them about your, shall we say, checkered past, would you? Killing my best man? Keep the police out of it. I have evidence against you.
And that had been the end of Skylar’s responses. Jack felt a little more protective—held Skylar a little closer—after seeing all of this. She probably felt like she couldn’t go to anyone. Even more curious about what had been going on that he was unaware of, Jack went to her ‘Notes’ app and filtered through a few grocery lists, finding a digital journal entry with him and the boys’ names in it from exactly one week ago.
So, Jack and Vin and Will are still letting me stay with them. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve their kindness. Everyone always told me how horrible they were; how bad they were, but I have only ever seen kindness from each of them. They’re sort of my family. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
So why do I keep expecting a pregnancy that wasn’t even my fault, or my choice, to get me kicked out? The truth is, I don’t want to leave. I found my people. Vin has promised me up and down that I won’t get thrown out for being pregnant, but I personally think Jack would hate me for it. I don’t know why I think that. He’s very obviously protective of the people he cares about, and for some reason, I’m one of those people.
I don’t understand how I deserve anything more than being beat up and used by customers every night. But I also don’t want to leave. I feel like the longer I delay the inevitable—being sent out—I’m just making it worse on myself. If that’s true, then why can’t I just SAY the damn thing; hey, Jack, Will, I’m fucking pregnant and it’s not my fault!
‘Cause I’m a coward. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s all I’ll ever amount to, I’m sure.
I can’t even think of a counter-thought for that right now.
I love these boys more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Somehow, they see me—who I really am—and that doesn’t scare them. If anything, it seems to make us closer. I don’t want to lose that. What do I do?
~A very confused Skylar
Jack clicked the screen off and tried to analyze how he was feeling after reading that. So, the emergency contraceptive didn’t work. What did it matter? All that meant was now it was time to go to an alternate plan; support Skylar and make space for a baby if that’s what she wanted. Why didn’t Skylar understand just how much everyone here loved her? Was Jack not showing care enough? Did he still seem too threatening?
Conflicted internally, Jack set the phone down and did the only thing he thought he could do. He just kept Skylar in a hug and pondered how to confess to her later he was a complete snoop.
Skylar jolted suddenly and instantly freaked upon waking.
“Hey, it’s just me, sorry,” Jack promised. “You had a nightmare.”
Adjusting to the dim light, Skylar rubbed her eyes and shakily sat up, cracking her neck and shoulder, then wincing. “It’s okay...thank you,” she offered groggily. “What time is it? ...God, what are they giving me in here?”
She pointed to the IV.
“Toradol. It’s for pain; you...seem to be in a lot of it.” Jack picked up her phone and checked the time. “And it’s 2:47. Vin and Will went home, so it’s just me. Vin was working later, and there wasn’t an extra bed, even though they both wanted to stay. They told me to tell you to feel better.”
Skylar gave a brief smile at the sentiment, fluffing up the pillow mound behind her. “I’ll try.”
When Jack set down her phone, Skylar’s eyes bugged out a little in realization. “Oh, shit, did...you didn’t look at the phone....did you?”
“Well, you were getting a million messages, and I have a tendency towards being protective. Even more so after yesterday.” He took a deep breath and let the dead air hang thickly for a moment. “Skylar, why didn’t you tell me about the messages they’re sending?”
Maybe playing dumb will help. “Uhm...what messages?”
Jack gave the seriously? look, and she knew she couldn’t lie to him. “You’ve been getting messages like that every day, haven’t you? Even with a new number. Did you give them the number?”
Skylar didn’t know how to respond. “Wuhl...I mean, I did. They have a right to message me,” she replied. At Jack’s look of disbelief, she quickly turned it into a question. “...don’t they?”
“Why do you think it’s their right to violate your rights? I want to know why you think that.”
“See, I’d...tell you, but then you’d get mad.”
“Again, I just want to know why you think they can harass you without consequences. Really, I’m not understanding.”
Skylar chewed on her lip, and Jack noticed her lower her head and bring her knees closer, drawing into herself the way she always did when she was too embarrassed to share how she really felt. The way she did when she felt ashamed.
“You always say I can’t let people do this, I can’t let people do that. ...but I don’t understand why. It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say it… I just genuinely don’t understand why.”
Jack nodded. It was the clearest way she had ever expressed her confusion without dismissing the subject entirely, and for that, he was silently proud. “Alright. I’ll use me as an example for a second. I don’t tell many people this, so this is between us, but growing up, my dad was pretty...eh, we’ll say aggressive. He was always high, first of all, and the biggest reason I started stealing petty shit, using drugs, and lashing out at people was because to be what I considered ‘loved’ by him, I had to act like him; sort of an initiation. Amidst all of this acting-out on my part, my mom told me something I never forgot. She said, ‘Jack, if you have to prove yourself to someone to earn what you think is their love, that is not love; that is conditionality. The right people will meet you where you are. You can not allow yourself to accept anything less.’
“And at the time, because I was only 17, it didn’t stop me from trying to please my dad or earn his attention. Later on, though, after he died, I realized how right she was. I was trying to get him to like, or accept, me. Any time he would beat me up, I figured, hell; I must not have done X, Y, or Z good enough—I deserve his anger. But that’s not true. I had to realize that I deserved people in my life who loved me for me; the raw, fucked up version of Jack who is constantly trying to better himself. Because so long as I am able to stay open-minded and treat others with dignity and respect...I deserve for other people to love me where I’m at. And I deserve that just for being here, same as you. I’m only a human; I should never have to earn peoples’ love. I only figured that out by setting a higher standard for myself, because my dad basically put the bar underground. Once I understood that I was innately important, just for being alive, I started to surround myself with people who could see my worth without me attempting to ‘prove’ myself, or take their unfounded anger because I ‘deserved it.’ Any display of conditionality, I don’t consider love.”
If there had been any doubts before, Skylar was certain now that Jack was a true definition of strength; the type of strength she had only heard of. To go through something like he had and choose to grow and learn from it was mesmerizing.
“I’m sorry that happened,” she whispered.
Jack half-laughed, not expecting or used to the sympathy. “Don’t be. I like who I am, and where I am now. Does that...I guess, word vomit, help you understand a bit more?”
Skylar didn’t feel like she had to curl her limbs up as tightly. “Yeah. Something to work on, I guess.”
“Well, it’s something we can all work on,” Jack encouraged. “I’d be happy to help you block their numbers, too.”
“I’ll think about it. Hey, and you only looked at the...texts, right?” Jack raised an eyebrow and Skylar’s mouth went faster than her brain. “N-not that I’m hiding something or, anything like that—I promise, I’m definitely, totally, probably n-not, like why would I hide something? But I didn’t know if maybe you had, y’know, looked at—”
“Alright, I’ll level with you,” Jack interrupted. “I saw your note.”
Skylar looked terrified, and her eyes filled with water as she glanced down. Her voice was breathless. “You...y-you did?”
Here it comes. He’s going to kick me out for being pregnant. I’m ruined. Once this hospital stay is over, I’m a goner.
“I did, and—”
“I’m so sorry,” Skylar talked over him, hoping to at least change his mind. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have said something and I didn’t, and if you want me to be gone by tomorrow, or whenever I get out of here, I can pac—”
“Wait, now hold on a second,” Jack stopped her. “Hold on, let me talk, and then you can go back to...well, I don’t really know what that was, but let me say what I was going to, please.”
Jack sighed at the unnecessary apology. “I want you to know that the only way you would ever leave us at this point is if you wanted to. So, whatever you decide to do about the pregnancy, we’ll support you one-hundred percent.”
Skylar was a ball of complicated emotions, so overwhelmed with either drowsy pain meds or raw emotion, that she covered her mouth and allowed herself to cry openly.
“Oh, I didn’t...mean to make you cry,” Jack tried, placing a hand on her knee.
The voice Skylar replied in was broken and squeaky, but she gathered the courage to speak anyway. “God, I thought—I thought you’d hate me, or kick me out, or both—I don’t know why I just assume the worst,” she blubbered.
Jack handed her a nearby tissue. “You said in your note we’re your people, and I feel like you deserve to know that you’re one of our people too. I’d say that includes anyone you give birth to, if that’s what you’re wanting.”
A few moments of quieter background tears passed. “I don’t know what I want. The whole thing wasn’t planned, obviously, it wasn’t my decision. I still feel like I’m to blame. Plus, I don’t have a job, or money, or—”
“If you want to keep the pregnancy till full term, we can figure everything out. But no matter what you choose, I am not just gonna dump you, Skylar. I’m not.”
The sobs were overtaking Skylar and pinching up her injured shoulder. “WHY?!”
“Why? Hell, you’re like my own kid.” His eyes locked with Skylar’s, who had suddenly looked up in wondrous disbelief. Jack continued, “I don’t believe in some ‘god’ or whatever, but I sure as shit know we didn’t run into you by accident. I’m here. We all are. You’re not doing this alone, no way.”
“How do I thank you?” Skylar asked. “Is there something I can do?”
“You start talking to yourself with respect and don’t allow other people to treat you any less than a person, and that will be thanks enough.”
Skylar nodded earnestly, taking that wisdom on as a personal commitment.
“You think you can try and sleep?”
“I think so.”
“Alright. I’ll be here regardless, so. Don’t hesitate to wake me up.”
Jack patted her hand. With the secret out, the situation looked so much more possible for Skylar. Whatever decision she came to, she had support.
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Ship: Leonardo x MC
Warnings: Description of blood
I just tagged the people who seemed interested in the story idea.
@entidy13 @niphredil-14 @kisara-16 @lead-ruby-red
It was beautiful in summer. The trees would gently sway in the calming breeze. Nurturing the greenery in his luscious rays, the sun would burn. Lilies, roses, sunflowers and marigolds would all proudly spread their petals out, basking in sultry-filled confidence.
“This is nice,” I hummed into his chest. He was refreshing. One thing I adored and sometimes took advantage of was how vampires were naturally cooler-blooded compared to humans. That meant that leaning on his chest would leave a pleasant burn of tranquil freedom from summer’s passionate heat.
Leonardo’s room was a gratifying wash of warm amber. The sun intruded from the ajar window. The cobwebs were more apparent than ever. I abhorred them but he would only chuckle and say to ‘let them live their lives’. Time-forgotten books scattered. All of them were open on specific pages, held in place with random objects found in the moment: a coffee cup, paper weight (that one made sense), an old lighter and a sleeping Lumiere.
“I guess so.” Leonardo stiffly replied. His eyes reflected something different, as of recent. Ever since I was turned in fact. He seemed further away - in his own world. Perhaps it was because I had abandoned the gift of humanity, turning into the very creature he least preferred. Or maybe the summer heat made him lazier and miss Italy. His body was always raspingly tense; he was on the cusp of rupture. He would second-guess himself around me. I could see it.
“...Cara, you’re a bit close,” he seethed before covering himself up, “Are you trying to initiate something?” He posed. His painfully forced smirk grated itself through his teeth. Overall, he seemed grey and sickly - skin like worn down leather.
“Hey, you can talk to me… come o-”
“Cara, I’m fine.” He panted. The knife-edged tone left no space for questioning and soon my head was perched against his chest, yet again. His breathing had definitely changed. It had once been shallow. I was sure of it. What once had been a peaceful silence had degraded to subtle attempts of panting. Was he ill? Could he even get ill? Maybe thirst?
Now I knew what it was like to be thirsty. I knew of the agony that the residents had to go through. I knew what he went through everyday in our relationship when I was human. Your brain contaminated your morals. Humans turned into blood banks. In your sight, all you can see is their throbbing, pulsating veins carrying their rich, precious life-line. Like swallowing cement, your throat cramps and tenses, contracting around you.
Pushing off my arms, I united his glowing orbs with mine. He desperately tried to avoid all eye contact. He probably would have pushed me off him if he could. Through his separated lips, the sharpness of his fangs protruded.
“Cara Mia, you should leave.” He hissed, like I would have listened. My hand gradually crawled from the silky, cotton sheets to his slick cheek. Guiding his vision to me. I tenderly caressed his jaw. He was aware I knew. The sorry expression that signed itself on his features proved that.
“Shh, you don’t have to say anything.” I hushed. He knew I was a vampire. Yet, he still had this internalised phobia of biting me.
“C-Cara….I-” He barely ushered, losing his resolve until he gave up. One final reassuring smile to say ‘I know and I forgive you’ was all his instincts needed to take over. I was roughly pinned down. Eyes filled with self-betrayal and soon-to-be regret. Right hand enmeshed in my hair, dividing my neck and head. Left hand on the back of my right thigh, lifting my knee up in between his own. He kneeled over me. Burying his face into my neck as much as he could, he nipped. Asking permission maybe? He was going to feel so guilty. The only pacifier I could think of was entangling every limb I had around him. ‘It’s safer in my arms, closer to me heart and soul.’
“Ah! Gentle Leonardo, p-please..” Fangs deeply nested in my neck, he didn’t want to neither stop nor pull away. I knew, now. Instinct was everything. It ran our lives. If you needed blood, you were going to kill for it.
Glorified, gory ecstasy was tempered through my body. Hot pleasure - a comforting warm - a rush of anticipation filled adrenaline with tainting spice boasting the feeling. Soft fatigue, humble and descended you down like falling into a heavy sleep. My darkest, deepest desires ran wild. He engorged himself lightly. Sucking and lapping at my neck, tending to it by licking anything he could get. Flailing limp, he loosened his grasp on my figure. Whether he was personally fulfilled or not, his bloodlust was more than sated.
“You can have more, I feel fine.”
“No, Cara, I can’t.” He exhaled. There was a sleepy, grainy tinge to his voice. Leonardo wouldn’t admit it but he would have found a preserving delight from that.
“Look at me.” I demanded.
“Heh, you’ve been so demanding since your rebirth,” he lifted his head and, even though only slightly, smiled. His whole face had more colour and his skin seemed softer and more delicate. A guilty rose-red tint pasted itself onto his cheeks. Endearingly, he reached up and smoothed my hair out. It definitely needed it. It was odd how much stinging friction my locks had against his hand. That coaxed a laugh out of us. A lovely, peaceful quiet laid itself between us. No words were said, no words were needed. His lips were pale, perhaps that was due to the red stain on the inside of them. In his smile, he bared his, currently, pink teeth and his deeply rouge-dyed mouth. Some smudges around his lips here and there, droplets of blood in the corner of his lips, comfortably resting. But his bloodied tongue soon made quick work of them.
Maybe the vampire in me detecting blood or it could have been the lover seeing him for who he truly is, perhaps a mixture, but he looked more handsome than ever.
“Do I look good Cara Mia? Is that why you’re smiling and stari- hey! Don’t stop,” he pulled me nose-to-nose with him, “It was cute.” A sweet kiss to the tip of my nose and we were back snuggling. Although, this time, reversed-roles. Leonardo’s head rested happily against my breast as I began to stroke his hair softly. He was the most relaxed I had ever seen.
“I’m going to have to learn a completely different side to you, aren’t I Leonardo?” He shifted, meeting my eyes. “Your vampire side.”
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