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#man i swear i'm usually so much better at not being so salty about things
isa-ghost · 8 days
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isa my bestie. do u have any tallulah and phil headcanons
Always famsquad
Other qPhil headcanons
Take one look at this man and tell me with your whole chest he's confident. NO HE IS NOT. He gets so insecure about being a good adoptive dad for her. He internalizes the full extent of it but oh my god is he terrified she thinks he loves her less than Chayanne or only took her in out of obligation or isn't good enough for her in general
She makes him laugh SO MUCH. Her dramatics, her comedic timing, the Mexican culture things/memes she shares with him once in a while. Even when she doesn't intend to, she makes him laugh so often. Genuinely she makes The Horrors more bearable for him.
He hates not being great at words bc he feels like he isn't the best advocate for her that he could be. Example: when she was wary of the new eggs. He didn't know how to vouch for her beyond reassurances she'd come around. He wishes he could've articulated himself better bc he Understands her but can't put it into words to other people to the degree he'd like to.
He will literally never look at flowers the same way again. Tallulah literally overwrote his association of them with Rose. Now his first thought is "peepoHappy Tallulah!!" Instead of Rose. Rose is now second.
Tallulah genuinely brings out a gentler side to him. This man is hardened by survival and bloodshed and at least one death in his past. He's a bit closed off and suspicious out of second nature. She brings him out of that shell so easily, he doesn't even realize it's happening.
She can see right through his bullshit and it's so fucking funny. "I'm doing fine m8" and she's just like "[cocks gun] Doubt. Bitch. Try again." She WILL cure this man of his emotional constipation.
I firmly believe she'll be the one to motivate Phil to finally build smth on a Hardcore Project scale one day. Somehow. He'd do it for her.
If he ever says he doesn't like when she acts like a little shit, don't listen to him. He's lying through his teeth. Tallulah being a little shit amuses him endlessly.
Tallulah doesn't swear a Ton, at least not as often as he does. He wishes she did, bc whenever she does it's super funny and usually perfectly timed.
Her wing hugs mean the fucking world to him they make him so ;-; every time
Tallulah has somewhat adopted Phil's over-caution. She's a bit more traumatized by The Nightmare than Chayanne is. The "abuel" sign haunts her
Phil will sing stupid songs along to her flute until she hits him for his goofy nonsense lyrics
Speaking of her flute, her playing Sweden unironically gives him nostalgia and kinda soothes his nerves. It's like his cue of "the kids are okay, they're safe and happy." The first time he heard it again after Purgatory & the eggs' recovery, he cried a little (I'm projecting)
One of the reasons he was most salty about The Reset was because it meant they can't go to Tallulah's botanical garden, her farm in the wall, or any of her other cool builds
Phil found her the purple striped hat she has in Phil's chat emote. She has it fr so she can be Just Like Papa :D
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animefreak1145 · 3 years
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For Whom the Bell Tolls(Adler x Bell!Reader)
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Chapter 4| I Am Thee and Thou Art Me
Chapter Summary:
The action's you do is for survival and no other reason.
You don't understand other's actions though.
Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU
Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con/Dub-Con, Trauma
Chapter Warnings: Mental/Emotional Anguish, Toxicity, Self-Loathing
A/N: Bottled beer is liquid hope and you love pictures.
Footnote: Translations at the bottom.
“Bell” Second Life 08:16 | February 26, 1981 West Berlin, Anita Wronski Cafe
“Looks like you’ve met death in the face, Bell. Rough night?” Lazar questioned, poking fun as they grabbed breakfast for everyone in line.
You rubbed your eye before pinching between your brows.
“Something like that,” you said tiredly as you  looked around the small cafe. Distantly taking note of Lazar’s statement with a dry smirk. “Didn’t sleep well.”
Small metal tables inside with metal chairs to match, both with interesting swirls for patterns making up the surfaces. There were more outside, the cafe a bit cramped in the first place even with just three tables again the wall. The smell of sweet German pastries and salty breakfast flooded your nose, making you lick your lips despite yourself not being hungry yet.
You were already up an hour beforehand, wondering to yourself how you and Adler could be in the car once more into the safehouse. Only to ‘volunteer’ when Lazar knocked on your door to help him grab food for everyone, apparently Adler already gone and left to the safehouse.
You internally frowned at that, you’re not sure why before you felt grateful. You would rather not talk about. . .whatever happened in his car. Which was nothing.
The flash of a clenched hand on the wheel as if holding back and a taut jaw came to the forefront of your mind.
Marionette’s should stick with their role.
It was nothing.
Lazar snorted, making you turn towards him as they both stepped up to the cashier. Lazar pointing towards the dessert window of what to get in a box as you spoke in German to the woman. Several more items of breakfast were ordered that will take some time to make, so they moved to sit to the only open table inside the quaint café.
“You drunk what—four cups of coffee yesterday, Bell? And looking at a bunch of nonsense for hours as if your brain is steel and your eyes can’t melt out of your head.” What a nice vision. Lazar took a sip of the German coffee he got for himself, eyes lighting up at the taste before looking back at you. “All that must’ve been stuck in your head and probably even in your dreams. Had any floating codes flying around your mind as you slept by any chance?”
That’s not quite right, but you’ll take the excuse handed to you as you shrugged. Lifting your own cup of coffee that you doused in three creams and two sugar’s, humming for a moment in agreement to Lazar at the strong and bold taste before taking another one.
“You can say that. I would have kept going and working until I got tired. You would call me a night owl so to say.”
“You seem pretty alright to me now,” Lazar observed as he leaned back in his chair.
“I have an impressive work ethic. Better than others I think. I’m used to going to sleep late and waking up early.” You can infer that your body is used to this schedule, harsh and strict work ethic that you must’ve gotten when you worked with Perseus. “Although, I admit I’m not very hungry right now. You chose a bad partner in this.”
“But you volunteered,” Lazar stared ever so seriously and another sip to his coffee. You could see he was fighting a smile.
You huffed through your nose, shaking your head.
“Yes. How could I have forgotten. Like I did for Kraus.” Lazar slightly winced at the reminder of how you got kidnapped, muttering an apology which you waved away. “It’s fine. I was the best to do that anyways.”
“You sure are pretty accepting with all this work. Just asking and taking files like nothing, ” Lazar rose a brow, you couldn’t tell if it was for being impressed or disbelief. You didn’t say anything to that, the both of you just sipping on their coffee and waiting for their meals to take to the car before heading back to work. You’ll walk past the center table easily and just sit in your chosen desk. Maybe get a lecture about professionalism which you will just absently nod at since you will make yourself feel numb if you have to, just to get away from the man in any way. Lazar paused at your far away look, your cup by your mouth yet you’re not drinking, instead of looking at a simple framed painting of Germany’s hills at the wall. ". . .As much as the boss man likes to act like it, we're not machines,” you blinked out of your reverie, your eyes flicking towards Lazar. “You're not either. Even though you understand numbers with little pattern and words that would have no connection normally—be able to put it together and have it make sense."
You blinked once more, albeit slower.
"I...I know I'm not a machine."
"Do you? Acting like you don't sleep and eat, besides those seeds of yours like you're a bird yesterday outside of the one meal I brought you. Do you sing too?" You released a surprised laugh at that, short as it was with lips still up. "That's better. Thought your lips stay flat like that. I swear, it seems both you and Adler are obsessed with Perseus. See why you're his protege now."
You were struck at Lazar’s words, focusing on him with a frown. The implications that the both of you were similar making you look down.
“Guess we're two peas in a pod.”
You mumbled the last bit, as if to yourself as you lowered your cup on the table.
"What? Oh. . .guess you could say that. But remember this Bell," He throws a pastry at you as you quickly catch it before it met your face(you would always have to be prepared for that before), blinking down at your hands before looking at the kind faced Lazar. "Lighten up. We'll get him so don't push yourself so much. And eat real food too! Seeds! As if that's food."
Your mind showed you moments from your previous life, Lazar always teasing and making you eat and try as much as different food as possible. Away from your decryption tasks as he would wave your plate under your nose as if to entice you.
“No point in being greedy,” The kind man would say, wry smile playing his lips with a tone to match, after letting you try food from his plate, even encouraging it. “Memories—memories with food should be savored and light and new dishes should be enjoyed.”
You thought of when you first found out the truth, still recovering from wounds of Cuba as you sat—away, away from that gurney—and guilt with Lazar—should’ve been quicker, perhaps you would’ve been kinder, kindness is a lie—and asking Park if Lazar knew. About you. About this. MK-Ultra. Everything.
You stared at the Israeli man for a moment before smiling, a mischievous thing. Genuine. Like the man in front of you.
"I am smaller than you, it's enough for me."
"Now you're just poking fun."
Lazar was always kind.
Oh, how he played his role perfectly for you.
At this point, you’ll take what you can get and stop wondering with him. You’ll go mad.
Foolish американский щеноk. The collar around your neck has choked all the trust for others in you.
Best, you think as Lazar easily teased you again, an unreadable look in your eyes as you take another sip of your drink. To just not feel at all.
The breakfast the both of you ordered came, Lazar grabbing the bag as movement behind the counter caught your eye. A worker bringing in a new dessert towards the other German sweets, yellow and round and looking spongy similar to a cake but with a crust like a pie. You walked back up to the counter, pointing and asking the worker in fluent German what was that. Her replying with a smile that it is their pineapple kasekuchen, the German’s take in a cheesecake.
You turned your gaze to the sweet, lost in thought before raising your hand with two fingers up to order, the worker nodding.
You grabbed the box and walked up to the curious Lazar by the door, his brow arched as if asking a silent question. As the both of you exited the bakery and walked towards the car, you still not saying anything and only periodically glancing down at the box with the kasekuchen, even tightening your grip a tad around it when the crowd around them got a little too close, Lazar decided to speak.
“You know,” he began, and you took note that he sounds amused. Almost knowing. You pretended to stay oblivious. “There was this mission I was on in Thailand with Adler a few years back.” At the mention of Thailand, your memory of yesterday in Adler’s car still fresh, you looked towards Lazar as they walked. “Something covert and recon with the usual stray chance of a suicide bomber. The standard for our great unpredictable job. Keeps us in our toes.” His tone was a mix of sarcasm and easygoing, as if suicide bombing in a country was like if he stated it’s going to rain again. Where is he going with this? “Anyways, when we weren’t doing that—we’d stop at this corner store near the safehouse we were in. Boss man would always buy his precious cigarettes, leaves the other stuff we need to actually sustain us to me. Except, he would get something else too. To eat and I always thought each time I saw that, that Adler is human after all.” He glanced down at you, one brow raised. “Do you happen to know what it is?”
You huffed, turning your head away. Them reaching the car and you going to the passenger side as Lazar stood by the driver’s side—still unopened and leaning his crossed arms on the top of the car.
“You sure like playing games today,” you dodged with quirked lips, shuffling the box in your hands to hold it in one as you moved your free one to open the door. “Volunteering me again and calling me a bird and now having me guess what a man like Adler would get besides his addiction. You want to talk about machines, look at him.”
How the puppet lies so so sweetly.
Lazar hummed, deciding to open the car and the both of you going in and settling as they placed the bags down by you to make sure none of it spills. After they pulled out from the space, Lazar spoke once more, offhandedly and an interesting turn of the lips.
“Pineapples sure are sweet and tart. Pretty good too.”
You don’t say anything.
Just made sure your hold on all the boxes of food for everyone didn’t tip over as Lazar would turn. If your grip with the kasekuchen was firmer than the others, you didn’t notice.
Feed the god and you might get a reward.
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You squinted behind your closed eyes, shifting in your uncomfortable sitting position in the foxhole with only dirt and soil to help cushion you within the trench like pit. The crickets were loud, deafening in the jungle with a periodic squawk or call from a bird deep within. You shifted, your M-16 moving down in your lap from the movement  despite your lucky green cloth gloves holding it as you blearily opened your eyes, blinking them against the darkness until they got used to it. The half moon helping somewhat in giving light as well as the fireflies flying around in the dance where only they heard the music.
They were still on their way to Hue City, night coming upon them quicker than expected. The jungles are harsh and thick, especially with the route they’re taking due to their stealth and recon mission, but the planned route was still underestimated. It did not help the planned foxhole they were going to got covered, completely useless and the time to make another one is time they don’t have. Luckily, they were able to find another, although this one was tighter. Two small foxholes that barely fit the five of you, hence having to sit basically in a ball against the wall of dirt behind you.
All of you were doing one hour intervals in keeping watch, the watcher usually standing up in the foxhole in order to watch their surroundings. And if an attacker did come, they could duck within the foxhole for cover.
You felt like you should’ve woken up for your  shift already.
Your eyes focused next to you, finding the spot where Larson was supposed to be standing empty. You hastily stood, pack heavy against your back as it tensed in protest at the sudden weight, your hands tight against the M-16 and about to call the other’s names at the missing soldier only to stop.
Your standing position giving you new access to see more besides the sky above you, surrounded by brush and green foliage of all types with high grass upon the ground. Larson sat, just a few inches away from the foxhole a little to your right, staring up in the starlit sky. He turned his head towards you at the sound, seeing you were awake before turning his head back, as if you weren’t there.
“Larson,” you whispered, not wanting to wake up the others in the foxhole next to yours. When Larson didn’t move so the two of you could switch, you reached out to tug on his pack on his back. “You can’t be out in the open like this. You don’t know if VC or NVA might come by in the area.”
“Let them,” Larson said brazenly but just as low, making you release his pack in surprise. “Besides, there’s a bunch of shit around here to cover us. Even this grass is kinda covering my face. Nothing will happen. Now, go back to sleep and leave me be.”
You stared, before sighing. Carefully looking around once, twice, before coming out of the foxhole as quietly as you could—using the open holes on the dirt walls to place your feet to get out. You sat by Larson, who ignored you and went back to staring up at the twinkling sky.
You took a moment to stare at it too. This far in the boonies, away from cities and cars and just filled with wildlife, it has a sort of bewitching air around it. Despite the loud chirp of the crickets, the call of the birds, and how one would sometimes have to smack any open skin for stubborn mosquitos—the trees, the grass, all the greenery that looked dark in the night outside of being lit by the fireflies and the stars and moon above. You were struck once more, just how beautiful this country was. With it’s natural serenity as the moonlight not covered by clouds touched lightly upon to aid somewhat with the darkness but not as much as a flashlight would do, still, the moon did its best even if it was just at it’s half tonight. The stars were there to support it and you wish you learned more about constellations than your books, you’re sure you could spot all of them and weave stories of your own instead of reading them.
“You know,” your attention shifted to Larson, who still gazed up as he spoke, lost in thought and appearing away from here as he spoke quietly. He does not wish to wake the others it seems. “I don’t know if you remember me telling you this, but I grew up on a farm. Small. Not very fancy and it was just me and my family—Ma, Pa, and my two brothers and sister. Out just taking care of our cattle and our horses. Middle of nowhere, we would have to drive about an hour to get to a good grocery store that isn’t just a corner store or gas station. I hated it more that the closest school was about the same length. . . But what could I do? Needed an education, at least some, and than spend the rest of my life worried about a farm. With all it’s cow and horse shit, waking up before the sun does and at the end of the day you smell like all the shit you cleaned up.” He ended, sounding tired and yet with the bitter words it had an iota of equal bitter amusement.
You maintained your silence, instead moving your gaze back and forth around them. Not looking at how Larson’s lips quirked begrudgingly, head tilted up towards the silent night.
“. . .there were a few good things though. When me and my brothers and sister were done with work, and the moon was out—we’d head out to where the cattle were. Laying down on the grass without a care, why bother? We were already dirty with sweat and dirt and shit. And we’d look up—and than—“ Larson reached an arm out, as if to reach the sky, only to clench his hand and put it down back by his lap before gripping his MP40 hard where you could spot how white his knuckles were. “. . .laying down, in the grass, in the middle of nowhere, with just a dark black sky over you. . .it felt like it could swallow us. Whole. Not caring about how we looked or smelled or how old we were. . .it made us feel small. Yet huge. If we pretended enough, we could act like we can really touch the moon. The stars. I guess it just showed all of us there was more, than this little farm. With it’s shit and it’s smell and being in the middle of nowhere. The black sky might just eat us to put us out of our childish misery. Maybe that’s also why we kept going back, not just cause of fucking beautiful it was, but maybe. . .”
Larson trailed off and you decided to speak up, softly. Not wishing to break this odd aura around them, because this was more than talking about how small a human’s life is.
“‘If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you,’” you quoted, Larson cocking his head slightly and glancing at your from the corner of his eyes. You released a small fleeting smile. “It’s a quote. By a German philosopher called Friedrich Nietzsche. A depressing guy but. . . I feel like his words fit. The abyss swallowing. . . perhaps it is more you become one with it. A fusion. Where you don’t know where you begin and the abyss ends.”
Larson turned his head away, grabbing a handful of some grass and pulling as he moved his eyes back up.
“Who knows? Maybe. . . shit,” Larson dryly chuckled, “maybe, I should’ve stuck with staring up at my family’s farm home—staring up this abyss right here but there instead. Than maybe. . .you know, I would say sappy shit in my letters to her?” You didn’t ask who ‘her’ was, you could fill in the blanks as you wisely kept silent. “All words about the moon and stars and we were staring at the same one so I wasn’t that far away cause we stared up at the same thing’s. That she had stars in her eyes and if I looked up, I could see her in them. That she pulled me to her like the moon does water and just—shit. Fuck. ”
Larson hissed, putting his head to his hands. His shoulders slightly shook, you could barely tell in the darkness but you imagine he is holding himself back.
“I loved her,” Larson said, voice all cracked and broken as his breath hitched. “I love her still. And she’s—she’s leaving. What will I have when I come back? Go back? I—there’s nothing. We were. . .I went to war for  her . Our  country .”
You kept your mouth shut. Letting him release his sorrow and emotionally charged words that made zero sense such as that. You learned, especially on the beach night, it is not wise to depend on another’s support when it comes to actions of war.
You didn’t even give Larson the full quote earlier either. You do not think he needed the full one, but you know yourself what Nietzsche was going for. You think Adler might like it actually.
Eventually, you managed to put Larson back into the foxhole as you took watch by him. Standing in the foxhole as you did your shift. A few minutes officially in however, you took note of noise in the foxhole next to you. You turned your head, noticing Adler’s head was out, helmet on and war paint slightly losing their color. You can see his stubble starting to really come in now. He had his shades on, even at this time, in this darkness—but you could tell he was staring at you. Something clicked as you lightly sighed.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough.”
You nodded, turning your eyes around their surroundings with your M-16 in front of you and gripped at the ready just in case.
“You left something out,” Adler said after a while, voice low to not wake the others that it sounded husky to your ears. You glanced at him, brow raising questioningly as Adler’s lips lifted to a knowing smirk. “I don’t know much, but my high school education isn’t too laughable I think. I know that quote. You missed the whole beginning and just gave him the end.”
You blinked, before shrugging as you peered up at the sky for a moment.
“He didn’t need the beginning. Just the end.”
“Some might call that yellow journalism. Or lying.”
“Others might call it wise,” you retorted lightly. “He didn’t need to know it. It wouldn’t have helped. So why give it? Besides, we know it. We’re the only type of people who need it.”
Adler hummed, whether it was in agreement or in thought, you couldn’t tell. You took note of him shifting, hands a little fidgety around his M60 and you felt sympathy swell in you. He hasn’t been able to smoke since the start of this mission, having to be cautious with any type of smoke. You don’t know personally, but you know that the craving for cigarette’s were mind consuming if you did not have one to quell it. Perhaps this conversation was a welcome distraction.
You wonder if this night is just you going to be playing silent therapist.
“Do you think Larson should’ve heard it?”
Adler answered as he kept his dutiful watch around, him facing the area behind you as you focused in front.
“No. He just needed someone to listen. Poor bastard should ask for R&R after this. I’ll grant it to him, maybe he could go to Australia and just wind down there for a week.” He scratched at his face, the war paint surely feeling a little off since he first put it on. “Forget about all this. All of it. The States. The war. He needs it. Hell, we all do.”
Your lips formed a teasing smile.
“Even shadows and monsters need a smoke?”
Adler chuckled easily.
“Everyone needs a smoke as far as I’m concerned. Maybe less people will act like they’re one push away till they make a shitstorm the rest of us need to clean up. But sure, kid, ” he half shrugged, focusing on the sky above with all its celestial like bodies. “Larson might’ve been onto something though with what he was saying.”
“Which part?”
Adler chose silence as his answer, staring up for another moment or two before huffing and turning his attention back onto the ground.
The two of you stayed guarding for a few more moments. You didn’t bother asking Adler why he was up and you had this watch, just like how he didn’t seem to bother to order you to go to sleep. You felt like once more, there was an understanding between you two. Still though, it didn’t stop you from the question bubbling in your throat.
“Since you know the quote,” Adler hummed lightly, showing he was listening. “What do you think Nietzsche was referring to, that the reader itself hasn’t fought with other monsters yet or from experience because he is a monster to not have other’s fight him?”
Adler scoffed quietly, amused.
“Just cause I know the quote doesn’t mean I constantly wonder about it’s meaning, Bell.”
“Humor me.”
“I thought I told you earlier I’m not here to spoil you.” You threw him a sheepish grin, Adler sighing and shaking his head as his expression turned inquisitive with how he pressed his lips together for a moment. “It’s a warning. That’s how I always saw it. But it’s not one we need like you said earlier, kid.  We don’t need it.”
You didn’t ask anymore. Because as you thought more into it, he was right.
Nietzsche wrote a warning, to the innocent reader and the oblivious society that put emphasis on morals and truth that he did not agree with.
‘Battle not with monsters, lest you become a monster. And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.’
Monsters do not fret about what they already are. Just as they are not worried if the abyss ends with them or if it begins.
“Get ready, kid.” Adler said much later as they all slowly woke the others up to move, his eyes squinting behind his glasses as he stared past the trees, the bushes, and the greenery as the beginning of dawn started to rise. “It’s going to be a shit show in a few hours.”
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“Bell”
Second Life
14:02 | February 26, 1981
CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”
You see yourself as one with patience.
When it comes to this sort of line of work, it is required. A sort of fortitude and composure that not all can be able to acquire but must be needed for this—for lives at stake based on whether you can put up an act or have the tact of an eagle capturing a snake, all sharp claws and silent feathers against the hissing strike. ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ.
“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time,” as said by one one of your favorites, Leo Tolstoy, from one of the best works in history: War and Peace.
You recall last time—stop clinging, you stupid dog—when you stood outside the safehouse in the cold with your head to the book, Adler stepping out and taking note of your book with a cocked brow. Stating his surprise at your book choice as you mumbled something or other as you read, that it is an integral book. You even stating the same quote back to him, a surprise to you when Adler didn’t know of it. Listening as you explained it with a flick of his lighter and calm inhales and exhales of his addiction, showing off where the quote was as he leaned in slightly. Your heart pounding as his warmth was felt without even touching, than a brush of his shoulder to your back as he drew closer. Than it was gone.
“All grim thoughts and wise words with you, eh Bell?” Amused. A fleeting turn of the lips that stayed longer and a gaze that lingered as he stared through you under those shades. “Make sure you take a breather when you raise your nose for air from your books. Can’t do this without you.”
He would tease, but didn’t stop you from taking your reading breaks outside for fresh air. And he’d always ask, curiosity in his expression when you’d show him a line each time. You thought it was special. Their own little thing where you would raise your book and he would lean to you and they would touch.
“Bell, open the door.”
It was just cruel kindness.
Patience, you are using it to your fullest. You can do what you must and see if your actions can work up to something—all your effort and hard work being seen as a good little tool.
Though, time—time is something you may not have. Unless you make sure you’re loyal.
You were quick to drop off the breakfast on the center table, ignoring Adler’s rose brow as you moved. The pineapple kasekuchen in their rightful place. You avoided and didn’t speak outside a quick “good morning” to everyone else and went to work, breakfast by you whenever you got truly hungry.
You didn’t think about why you bought the dessert. Outside the rationalization it shows your loyalty. Perhaps a peace offering to ignore what happened the night prior. You didn’t think much about that at all.
американский щеноk.
Until he called you over to his desk with a wave of his hand, your chest thundering with your eyes wide as you wondered if he’ll say anything. Take you aside in private to talk. About last night or the sweet, you’re not sure. Only for him to motion for you to sit, tapping his knuckle against the file on the desk. You took note the box of the kasekuchen wasn’t there anymore(must’ve already ate it or threw it away) as you blinked, slowly sitting in the seat across from him as he slid the file towards you as he asked your opinion on it.
You scanned, mind wandering and flying, before you glanced up at him. His favorite mahogany leather over him that is second skin, a lighter shade of blue for his collared shirt today under him and his mouth free of a cigarette as well as his hands. Those aviators still on his head, a part of him. Sort of like the beanie—ski—mask over your head as he looked down at another report in front of him. As if he didn’t call you over from your desk to his to help with a file when he could’ve just left it on your desk. As if you didn’t cross a line—you always cross the line, over, behind, or creating a completely new one to do what you must like he does whatever it takes but it was wrong, you are no saint, pitiful mutt—yesterday with your words and questions.
A hand reached towards the file in front of you, knuckle tapping twice, more force this time.
You focused back on the file, only to see Adler already took his hand back. Continuing to read as he patiently waited for your consensus on the file before you.
You were struck than how he’ll handle this, understanding dawning on you as your gaze focused and turned to the file below you and picking it up.
If he wishes to pretend as if it never occurred, it’s fine with you. It’s best either way for both of you. You have too many worries already, Adler included. Best to leave certain things out your mind about the man lest you’ll get clouded. You’re trying to survive. Not get caught up in and tangled in mind games.
You spotted in the corner of your eye Adler give a ghost of a nod, the tiniest tip of the head, imperceptible to others but you knew. He gave a similar one when you captured Volkov, walking up to you with a calm swagger and gloved hands around his weapon, as he moved his head in approval. Such a good girl to be happy with just a nod. Satisfied. He’s satisfied. He knows you understood. Understood him.
“You know me too well.”
“Guess we’re two peas in a pod.”
“I need Bell.”
You raised the file closer, over your mouth formed in a subconscious echo of a pleased smile. You didn’t even feel it. Nor did you feel electric blue eyes behind shades glance towards you before turning back to his work—the silent agreement to keep what happened last night to themselves written and signed without the two of you having to open your mouths.
Coward, you wanted to snarl. To who, you’re not sure. You just focused on what Adler gave you. You’ll need to have Adler let you live so you’ll need to not just be a perfect asset to the others but a person to him.
You have to do what you must.
“Damaged goods.”
You have to.
“You remembered.”
You flicked your eyes towards him, file momentarily forgotten. He didn’t look up from his own file, continuing to read it with the expression he always has when concentrated—a hint of pressed lips that reveals his dimples and brows lowered than usual where it would be difficult to see due to his shades. You would think that mania has truly taken a hold of you, with it’s dark tentacles filled with dark thoughts and mental anguish or rather slithering and multiplying vines where Lykourgos grew mad due to Dionysus’ vengeance except for you it is with choking collars and stifling leashes and cutting strings. He looked as if he didn’t speak at all. All the quiet focus of a war hardened CIA agent that didn’t have a ring on his finger but was married to his job with a badge to show all the same.
But you knew his voice. As if it was your own.
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“Fought together. Bled together. Been through Hell in Vietnam together.”
“We got a job to do.”
“ B e l l,  o p e n  t h e  d o o r . ”
The poor американская сука loves pain like a drug.
“I wasn’t sure what you would,” Adler spoke again, your eyes focusing on him once more. His head still was tilted down and a little to the side, shades facing the paper but you believed he glanced towards you. “The coma did a number on you with your memories. I know you’ve been saying it’s only been about Vietnam but you never specified about what. Or if you happened to remember anything else.” He didn’t state it like a question but he might as well have.
Of course he would ask. Why wouldn’t he?
Nonetheless, you knew what he was referring to in his earlier statement. He ate them. You picked up your file with a small huff.
“Hard to forget, Adler. Of course I would remember. You would hold those cans like a lifeline,” your lips lifted at the memories, of Adler trading with others if he must to get his precious golden ambrosia that would appease him similar to his cigarettes. You kept your lips up despite the quick recall the memories were fake—the trading of trash, the quiet understanding to not speak of it, of beautiful Vietnam foliage and unforgettable talks—just as you glanced at him and continued easily. “Glad you liked them. Wasn’t sure if you would. As for other memories. . . it’s still only been with Vietnam. I haven’t gotten anything else.” Adler hummed, cocking his head a tad before your lips formed more of a smile that you felt. “But at least I still know what I like or don’t. Can’t imagine a clean slate.”
“That’s normal,” Adler said, shades now facing you as you somewhat hid your face with the file. The only thing him being able to see fully was your eyes. “Learn how to calm down and that you can’t take all these shots like you’re a target in a shitty gun range. Might remember more.”
You found yourself snorting, rolling your eyes. Finding dark amusement at his words despite yourself. Perhaps you are growing insane.
“Based on what you told me in the hospital, you would’ve had some holes instead.” The way you said it, it sounds like you still believe it. Like it was real. Dance puppet, dance. You turned up your lips into a semblance of a smirk as you looked over the file towards him. You maintained it even though you think the both of your eyes connected despite the shades hiding. “You don’t have to worry, Adler. I got your back. Always. A few shots is nothing.”
It’s what you would’ve said before. It scares you how much you meant it previously. As if your life was forfeit if it came to having Adler live longer. Nothing else would matter as long as he lived. Nothing. As if the world would come to an end if he fell—the only one that could hold it and keep it straight.
Perhaps he is Atlas after all. . .
The loyal dog with the pretty collar will always protect the master.
Cursed due to his cruelty.
What are you, Russell Adler?
Adler stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your words. Scrutinizing them. He than reached into his jacket, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Once he did the first drag and released his puff, away from you as you observed the smoke curl around them, he looked back down to the papers on the desk.
“How lucky am I that I got you around than, kid,” he replied, all low and earnest as he took another drag. “Just don’t go dying on me. Can’t have Sims talk to his shrink about something else. He’d be heart broken.”
Adler said that sentence a little louder, so it was no surprise that Sims by the desk put down his magazine and called out.
“I resent that!”
Adler’s lips twitched in response, but kept his gaze down as your heart thundered.
You thought of an explosion to the chest, your heart open and bare for more reasons than you planned. Of soft words to your ear that sounded like regret and something else as you coughed. Of a gentle touch that held you up, hands wandering from your waist to your stomach—stopping just short of a bleeding chest as if they wanted to stop the red—redredredredred—from flowing out but hesitated. An encircling of arms that released heat as you grew cold—you don’t like the cold much anymore—while an expression was carefully guarded with eyes hiding behind a shaded curtain.
You felt your throat tighten. The need for answers to unanswered questions reaching a head.
“Just Sims?” you asked softly, a little breathless and a little confused at said breathlessness.
He glanced up, aviators slightly down and you could barely see his eyes as he exhaled a puff, eyeing you. You staring as his brow lifted for a moment before it settled, an interesting look in your eyes that one might call forlorn. And something else that is dangerous and not meant for monsters who are better alone.
“Maybe another life, kid.”
Mind thine eyes dog, for they show you yearn the impossible.
“You know the answer, Bell. Everyone would be,” Adler leaned slightly back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers in his customary hold between his ring and middle finger. “You’re part of the team. What kind of question is that?”
“You’re still one of us.”
He knows what he’s doing. Just as he knows what you mean.
You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down with squinting eyes at the file. Your hand making it a little wrinkle and you don’t know what you expected. What you’re expecting. He hurts. He pretends. Why would he even answer truthfully when he can dodge and feel less guilt about a hole in you caused by his hand?
He’s—
You felt a nudge against your knee, you looking up in shock with a quick inhale at the unexpected touch. It staying there—his knee, he’s touching you—as you watched Russell tilt his head at you, brow up and lips quirked with a cigarette around it and looking wry and relaxed—what is this, why, what could this be for, why is he doing acts that are pointless yet mean everything when he could just be distant, you are getting worked up over just knees touching, you touch starved little thing—as he motioned his head an iota to the left. Your eyes following the movement to see Park where she was, nearby with her desk and a headphone to one ear but the other still able to listen in despite how naturally quiet you and Adler are with your soft voice and Adler’s low tone.
Park? What does she have to do with anything? And why would Adler of all people care?
You frowned, only for your lips to flatten in realization of her words to you about Adler. To stay away. You now wonder if she did a similar warning to him.
“Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”
You wonder if the pissing match that was imperceptible and the slight tension was more than just two agencies trying to come to an accord.
But why would Park warn Adler?
You glanced back at Adler, who gave a half shrug as if to answer your silent question. It only raised more. You moved your knee back closer to your form and Adler didn’t react as you did so. The both of you turning back to the files that Adler requested your assistance.
Not thinking in the back of your mind of fleeting touches, lingering looks, or a voice to your pounding ear that tinged with remorse even though you couldn’t see his face.
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You and Park just recently finished going through the report you and Woods got from Ukraine. Sims and Lazar were in the back rooms where the gun range was while Park was in the Red Room. Last you checked, Adler was still in his office with a call while Mason and Woods were by the weight lifting equipment and taking turns to work off some steam due to what was discovered. You were putting the findings up on the evidence board with tacks, careful to not stab yourself. You wouldn’t be as concerned if you were wearing your gloves which you put away earlier by your bunk bed, but than again, you’re quite careful with your gloves. Not only because of the quality, but who got the leather gloves for you when you were just recently discharged out of the hospital back in the States.
You smiled, putting the last tack on the board only to have a sudden weight around your shoulders. You widened your eyes, briefly alarmed only to turn your head to see it was a smirking Woods.
“Done? Good! I’ve been holding off till now but it’s time to fucking see what you’re  really  made of Bell.”
You blinked, confused and still reeling at the fact you didn’t sense his approach at all. Your mind will zone out over the littlest of things lately. It concerns you. But it hasn’t been a problem so far out in missions, so you think it’s alright.
“And how exactly I’m going to do that? Thought I showed you enough back in Ukraine.”
At that, Woods laughed as he basically tugged you to where Mason was, who was shaking his head at his friend and shooting you an apologetic look as you just smiled that you were okay with it. Their van door open in the back as well as a table and chairs in front. You took note of the packs of beer and you see what Woods meant as he sat by Mason in the van on the floor, you sitting down and observing as Woods took a hefty gulp of a beer.
“I think I know now. But,” you glanced to where Adler’s office was, “is this wise? Isn’t Hudson coming over here soon?”
Woods slammed his beer down, causing some of it to come out as Mason sighed at the wastefulness.
“Man,  fuck  Hudson!” Woods wiped his chin harshly, irritation coloring his features. “I want to forget about that nutsack for the rest of the day. When he comes, he better not say shit or I’ll punch him again. Maybe with that shit will stop coming out his mouth.”
Mason chuckled, having his own beer in his hand as his eyes wandered to his longtime friend, shifting as he got comfortable in his seat.
“How’s the hand?”
Woods scoffed.
“Pfft. Nothing fancy,” Woods looked at said hand, clenching it as he moved to crack his knuckles as he grinned wildly. “Ready enough, like I said, if Hudson says something smart.” He punched his fist against his hand, muscles flexing noticeable despite his jacket as you couldn’t help but laugh along with Mason.
“I still can’t believe you punched him yesterday,” you spoke up, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine anyone punching the intimidating harsh man that is James Hudson. Soon after your discharge, you had to meet with him back in Langley for the mission before all this Perseus business—although you suppose supporting the Polish union Solidarity in fighting back communists have everything to do with Perseus. You don’t understand why the man seems to dislike you so much, especially if the two of you worked briefly before which you sadly can’t remember. He must always be like that with others, Woods doesn’t seem to like or appreciate Hudson’s icy countenance either way. You don’t quite appreciate the man’s secrecy about the nukes, so you see why. “If I even breathe the air wrong around him, I think I will be dead come morning. I don’t think I’m exaggerating.”
“You?” Woods asked, amused incredulity in his tone as he faced you. “The one who basically took out three Heavy’s by your lonesome? Scared of that ball face? You’re shitting me!”
Mason rose his brows as he turned towards you.
“You didn’t say that in the report. You holding out on us, Bell?”
“Right?! Now open a bottle and tell Mason here everything that happened.”
You rose a brow, amusement shining in your eyes, your hand moving to the pack of beer before stopping. The memory of the arcade room making you smile knowingly.
“Everything?”
Woods made a face, cheeks looking an interesting color that Mason caught as he nudged his friend with his elbow.
“What’s she talking about Woods?”
“Nothing! Jesus Christ Bell, didn’t know you could be a little shit like Adler can.”
The words bounced off you easily, already used to the man’s vulgar personality from the mission and even before the mission to go over details, as you shrugged, smirking as Mason kept pushing Woods on what happened as Woods would grumble or drink his beer to avoid answering. At Adler’s name however, you looked back at the office, slightly biting the inside of your lip.
Your breaks thus far outside of eating has just been reading your books or a quick game in the back room. Never for a drink like Lazar would do with Sims and Park at times. Adler, at least what you know of, hasn’t drunk and just has stuck with his cigarettes. You don’t even remember the last time  you  drank. All you know is that you like it.
But. . . you’re not sure if Adler would approve. You’re always focused on your work and great at it, he depends on you to maintain your focus to catch Perseus.
You subconsciously put your hand in your jacket, feeling the polaroid as you thought.
Woods noticed your apprehension and called out to you, you turning your head back.
“Whatcha fuckin’ worried about? You’ve been working all day from those codes and whatever the shit you put on the board. I don’t think Adler would want you to be worked dry where you don’t even think straight.”
“Only booze can do that,” Mason added helpfully.
Woods nodded, looking too serious it was almost comical since they were just trying to persuade you to drink.
“What he said.”
You took a moment before you shrugged, grabbing a beer and opening it as you stated that you guess you could drink with legends. Woods huffing at you, soon calling you cocky in realization as to why you made fighting Heavy’s not a big deal and not impressed with him. Mason seeming to find it funny as the three of you drank and talked about the mission more freely and colorful words with Woods. You did slightly flush when Woods told Mason you were a nerd for playing a quick game while there were Russians preparing for their training course, Mason snorting as you hushed them when Park grew near them. Not wishing for her to find out.
Quickly hiding it by inviting her to join just as Lazar and Sims came back, the two men seeming to easily join in as Park contemplated as she stared at the beer. With a sigh though, she sat by Lazar as she took one.
“Next time, I’m buying the alcohol here. You bought rubbish, Woods.”
“‘Rubbish?’ And beer is beer, nothing wrong with good ol cheap beer sometimes,” Woods defended. “Adds to the flavor.”
Lazar smiled, raising his bottle.
“Cheers to that.” Lazar and Woods tapped their bottles in the middle when they reached over, an easy aura settling between the group.
Sims got a bottle, assessing the name as well as the pack as he did a dog whistle.
“Germans know how to do one thing right, and that’s beer. You’ll be fine Park. It could be worse,” Sims took a drink, humming as he did so while Park frowned at her bottle when she took a few sips.
“Worse?”
“It could’ve been canned,” Mason answered, speaking from experience that made you raise a brow as you took a drink, settling further into your seat. “Canned cheap beer you can basically taste the metal. There was one time back in the States where I practically shitted myself due to this cheap beer I got at this random gas station in the middle of nowhere. Ruined my night.”
“And your pants it seems,” Lazar commented, mirth clear in his tone before he released a laugh along with Sims guffaw at the Israeli’s words. Park shaking her head but anyone can see her smile on her lips as Woods stated that’s what happens when you’re in “bumfuck nowhere” and probably got experimented with weird moonshine.
You snorted in surprise, covering your mouth as your imagination pictured the soldier rushing to the bathroom lest an accident happens. Mason? He seems so serious all the time, which you can understand why. You’ve read up what you could on everyone here, the description’s were small but you could fill in the lines. He’s lucky that he has such a good friend like Woods.
It soon became a trading of stories between everyone about drunk nights and how they reached that point, Lazar running with a bowl of chili and Woods determined to make condom water balloons and Sims was just finishing his own passed out in random deck chairs story when the door of the office opened.
You immediately turned towards where Adler now stood, staring at all of you as he closed the door and currently free of a cigarette. Your anxiety only grew when Adler turned his head towards you, as if he was asking you personally on the situation as you could only throw him an apologetic yet impish smile. Adler’s brow rose.
“Adler!” Woods called, raising a hand and motioning it for the man to come over. Adler approaching the group as you could only stare and tried to get a read on him. Alas, it was hard to discern his mind even if you could spot him glancing at everyone and the table with bottles. “Join us while there’s still beer left! Planning to drink all of this before Hudson comes. He can’t say anything if there’s no evidence.”
Adler hummed, stopping behind you and Sims as he appeared in thought. A trickle of hope coming up your chest at Woods offer.
“All of you are in luck,” Adler eventually answered, the subtle amused tone not lost on you as you intently focused on it. “Hudson isn’t coming till early in the morning tomorrow. Got caught up with something with Black. Can’t imagine how he would react if he saw all this.”
“Fuck ‘im,” Woods spat, reaching for a bottle and throwing Adler one. Adler catching it with his hand, shaded eyes turning towards the bottle to read the label. “We’re not here to please his every whim and cater to him like we’re his butlers. I say it’s a perfect time to wind down. We were just trading stories of getting shit faced.”
“All of you were,” Park corrected easily, “I don’t plan on sharing any such event.”
“Never say never, Park,” Lazar said, a grin playing on his lips as he winked at the British woman. “I’m sure a lady like you has quite a collection of stories.”
“A lady never says her secrets.”
You were still staring up at Adler as Sims playfully groaned at Lazar’s flirt tactics that Park didn’t seem to mind, Adler tilted his head down and met your eyes. Seeming to assess before turning his gaze towards the evidence board, which now had additional papers than previously since he entered the office, assessing. He than turned back towards you, you impatiently waiting as you shifted in your seat to see if he would let all of you continue, his eyes seeming to follow when your hand went to your jacket pocket.
Adler released a huff of soft exasperation, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Don’t see the problem. We can all use a break from all of this.”
You practically beamed as Woods whooped, you moving a seat over where you were now next to Woods. Adler taking your seat as he sat by Sims now, opening his bottle as he asked whose story they were on. Sims continuing it and finishing before Lazar had another one. You listening with a smile or laughter, feeling the most at ease since this whole mission started you think. You believe that Adler must feel the same way, appearing relaxed as he sat and leaned back against the chair, beer forgotten and customary cigarette on his lips as he listened.
It made you want to take a picture of this moment. You standing up and announcing to the others you’ll do just that, Woods raising a brow at you.
“You and pictures. You a photographer or something? I hope you’ll at least show me what pics you took of me instead of those Red’s building.”
Your cheeks felt heated as you turned towards Woods, standing over him with fists clenched by your side as you called his name, askance. Making the man laugh at your expression, your irritation leaving you due to it but you gave him a warning look and call of his name which he caught. Not wishing for you to say the story, as Adler watched nonchalantly.
“Pictures? Got distracted again, Bell?” He asked, almost sounding like a tease only for the others to join in that you really loved that camera. You pursing your lips and appearing like you were pouting, as you turned away and got the camera from the Red Room quickly. Taking the picture of everyone only for Woods to motion his hand for it to your bewilderment.
“What? Don’t you want one with you in it too?” Woods asked, grabbing the camera from your hands as he grinned up at you. Adler and Park glancing at each other behind you, Adler flapping his cigarette hand uncaringly in answer. Mason raising a brow at the exchange but staying silent as his eyes moved back towards his loud friend.
You didn’t think of that but you stated you wanted one with everyone than, Park raising her hand for the camera to do the setting for it to be timed and placing it on top of Sims car he was working on earlier. All of you turning your chairs slightly, getting close with beers in hand and you trying to maintain a perfect smile even with Adler’s knee touching yours. The camera flashed, you feeling something by your head only for you to lightly punch Woods shoulder once you saw he must’ve gave you bunny ears in the photo. Him laughing away as you fought your own smile, his rugged charm rubbing off on you as Adler inhaled quietly as he watched the exchange.
The stories than eventually moved to mission stories, and than, unsurprisingly—to Vietnam. At this point, Park and Lazar retired for the night—Sims eventually doing the same when he noticed it turned to Vietnam. Which left you, Mason, Woods, and Adler—Adler just finishing up the story about what happened in Hue City, leaving a few details out you noted but loyally and wisely kept silent, as Mason took it in with a slight nod of his head.
“So that’s what happened on your side. Shit. . . that whole place was a shit show since the beginning. Lucky I only had to do a quick in and out by just getting a dossier.”
Woods snorted, nursing his fifth beer.
“That whole war was a shit show. Only good thing that came out of it is telling stories about it years later in a depressed warehouse. While a whole other type of war is happening.”
At the mention of the reminder of them losing that war, you spoke up.
“Not the only thing,” you couldn’t help but say, lost in thought as you looked at the ground.
Adler turned his head towards you as Woods and Mason did the same, curious.
“And what’s that, kid?”
You kept your gaze down for a moment more before flicking your eyes to the side towards Adler.
“We’re all still here, aren’t we?”
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Ȳ̶͇̝͐ó̶̘̈ṵ̴̡͑͒ ̴̯̗̅ŵ̴̭͘â̸̭̼̤n̵̼͚̘͑t̶̠̮̯́̏ ̶̭̝̱̄́̅ţ̶̠̑̈̚ǫ̶̳̉́ ̴̘͖͊͊͘ͅ ̵̡͋́ṣ̶̞̆̚ ̴͚̲̕ț̸̓ộ̴̍̐p̴̣͓̾́ ̴̫̗̆͜ḫ̴̛̦͓́́ẽ̴̛̻̋ṛ̵̲̞͈̅͠ę̷̼̯͔̍̌͌?̶̫̩̆͆
̷̼̈́
̵̣̽̉͛
̶̝͋͂B̷̝̾̾u̸͚͊̕ţ̷̛̭͖̈́̾ ̶̱͑̔i̷̩͇̤̐ṯ̴̪̓̓ ̷̜͊d̸̆͜į̶̩͔̉̏d̵͔̓͝n̴̨͇͒’̵̰͑́͂ţ̸̯̯͋ ̷̧͖̣̿̒e̴̥͋͝n̴̘̱̿̕d̸̛̤̹̔ ̵̡̡̩̈̐h̷̫͔͂͜ë̴̺̜́͑͊ȑ̶̺͉͠ĕ̴̥̉.̴͕̭͌̕͠
̸̠̹̿̊̿
̸̠͊̅
̸͙͓̬̂͒͝Ë̶̼̙̭́͘̕ ̶̳͆v̵̱͙̿̋ ̴͔̇̋ę̷͚̫͆̃̈n̵̥̣͈̏̅ ̷͇̮͒͊ ̴̛̺ ̶̡͆t̶̢̘͒ḧ̷̺̉ě̸͓̼̂ͅ ̶̬̲̫̈b̶̟̪̒̒ę̵͊͝s̶̟̱̐ţ̴͙̳̆̚ ̶͔̈́d̸̝̭͑̈́͒o̸͖͑̓g̸̨͌̈́̀s̴̹̫̖͗̅ ̶̯̝͛ḷ̶̬̔͌̐i̷̘̥̓́k̴͕̓͝ĕ̷̡̿̽́ ̵̖͗̾͘ţ̵̟̤̈́́̽ö̴͖͕͙́͗͝ ̴̦̂͊͝r̶͉͈̊̆̔ų̴̝̋̈ņ̶̼͛ ̶̭̦́.̶͔̇̄
̶̫̘͒̌̿
̵͓̱͇̆̕͠
̷̧̰̙̇͝B̶͕̐̐̓e̸̖̟̋ŝ̶̨t̵̗̎̀,̴̯̥̐̕ ̶͚͓̓̀́ť̶͐̂͜ŏ̸̢̿̉ ̵̨͎̄̿͆ć̷̣̓͑́ơ̶͔͓̋̿̔m̵̧̢̩̃ê̸̘̠̠ ̴̰̫͠͝ͅb̶͇̔̒ą̶̤̯̰̽͊c̸͈͗k̸̩͉͙̓̿ ̷̻̼̰͆ẃ̶̞͙̃͒͌ḧ̵̘͑̒̃e̵̜̰̓͘͝ń̶͙͒̚ ̵̪̖̥̊̈́ȑ̷̢̌̎ẽ̸̛͇̂ͅà̴̞̖̫d̸̤̺̽͛ỳ̴̰̊͝ ̷̠̌͝f̴̢́͊o̴͉̒͠r̷͕͙͙̽̋́ ̶͈̾̉t̴̥͒͘r̷͉̘̐́ų̸̠̔̋́t̴̨͚́̾h̷̖͕̯̀̒͛.̵̫̟̬̄
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“Bell”
Second Life
15:47| February 26, 1981
CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”
Soon after you said your thoughts to Adler about the file, you moved to go back to your desk only to pause by the T.V. You turned back, Adler raising a curious brow as he put out his cigarette with his ash tray nearby. You asked him for any other files he may need help with, Adler saying nothing as he reached another file by him and handing it to you. You grabbed it, your black leather gloved hand grazing against his bare one as you took it. Taking note of what he said about it before turning to your desk and staying there. Ignoring a probing stare in the back of your neck.
You’ll do what you must, but if he expects you to stay by his side when he inconvenienced you earlier by making you come to him. . . Well, you think a little petty action is worth it.
Besides, you have to think by yourself for a moment. The call about Volkov squeaking his rat mouth should’ve came already. By nighttime—you, Adler, and Park should already be on the way to Ukraine and meet up with Woods and Mason.
Woods and Mason, you think fondly with a sad smile of a whirlwind of a man drinking back beer after beer like water with a deep throated laugh and the silent soldier with sad eyes yet listens attentively and a kind smile that brightens. Oh, I’ve missed you guys.
They were barely in the safehouse, out in missions constantly when you would decode and just being the team’s powerhouse duo. When they were here though, the safehouse was louder. More easy and free, less stifling and grim due to the work they were doing. They had a certain charisma very different than Adler’s, one’s that captured you in a different manner so it is no surprise you managed to get close and hang with them more than anyone when they were here. Sims being distant, Park communicating with MI6 about the CIA, Lazar determined to woo the agent when he wasn’t cleaning and prepping weapons, and Adler was. . .busy watching you were in line you suppose.
Card games and stories being shared, Woods and Mason not seeming to mind when you were around them. You suspect Woods let you get close to make sure you don’t tell his precious secret and blunder back in the arcade room in Ukraine. Although you would tease him that you might at times.
You feel like that in your other life, Park was right. You don’t think those two knew about your situation. It just made you like them more.
Because at least with them, you’re positive it was real.
“I knew I could count on you.”
You wished they were able to save you from Adler though. But they were tired and celebratory of what they accomplished. They took in Adler saying you and him were just taking a detour at face value.
“Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you.”
Adler always lies.
You have to remember that. And to just brush away any kindness he may show.
It’s not real.
Is it?
A loyal and trained dog through and through.
When you saw it was nearing 1700 hours, you looked around where Park was. Seeing she was with Adler in the corner by the weights, conversing with him with a crease in her brow while Adler looked as if he was only mildly taking note of her words as he puffed along his cigarette. A trait of his you knew frustrated the British woman. Adler likes to feign disinterest a lot. It could be seen as a weapon to make others talk due to how irritating it could be or make one cautious at how apathetic the man can act or look.
You walked over to them, your ears getting the tail end of whatever was ailing Park.
“—not making light of this and reign it in. Oh, Bell.” Park’s tone softened, a sharp contrast that stood out to you as she noticed you step up to them. Adler not even glancing at you as he continued his smoke, or at least not turn his head towards you. It’s dark in this corner so you wouldn’t be able to tell if he turned his eyes towards you or not unless he moved his head or body in your direction. “What’s wrong? Any new updates on the decryptions?”
You shook your head, looking between the two of them before settling on Park.
“What’s the word on Volkov? He talk yet?”
Park sighed.
“I’m afraid not. He’s proved himself stubborn despite his tastes being similar to what makes the U.K. great.”
You cocked a brow, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.
“Medieval torture devices not his style?” You asked, calling back to what Park said about Volkov’s hobbies.
Park matched you, amused as she shrugged lightly.
“I believe the lack of scotch is what will do him in personally.”
“He has to talk soon,” Adler cut in, exhaling a puff as you and Park turned towards him. Adler faced Park, arching a brow as he continued calmly. “Your guys over there aren’t giving him a good time right now, I imagine. The last thing we need is for him to be tight lipped.”
Your throat turned dry. You think you regret mentioning this as Park answered.
“He’s not the type to remain loyal if his back is to the wall. His selfish demeanor and arrogance will what cause him to try to strike a deal with us. It will benefit us than him in the end once he breaks.”
“If he breaks,” Adler added with a frown. “If he still doesn’t talk by the next two days, we might as well have killed him once we saw him. He’s useless.”
“She’s of no use to us anymore.”
You swallowed, moving to pocket your hands in your black bomber jacket as your hands clenched along with your jaw.
Park frowned at Adler, disapproving.
“He knows a great many things. Not everyone can handle interrogation for so long and be able to stay silent about anything that might give them reprieve.”
Oh, look, you thought sourly, bitterness starting to rise once more as you maintained your blank expression besides your taut jaw. They’re complimenting me. How nice of them to say I wasn’t easy for them.
Control your tongue, you stupid dog.
Adler huffed, it almost sounding like one mixed with amusement and exasperation as he shook his head slightly.
“Perseus’ people are almost as slippery and conniving as Perseus himself. And dangerous.” Adler took another inhale and exhale, the smoke curling around them and going over your head as your gaze lazily followed it to distract yourself while Adler did the same, tipping his head up to watch. “Perhaps he knows if he talks, he might as well be dead. We don’t need an Aldrich in the MI6 either.”
Park’s demeanor straightened at Adler’s accusation, the possibility of having a traitor or spy in her agency a great insult. She was about to say a scathing retort surely, but you cut her off.
“He’ll talk,” you say cooly, unreadable gaze towards Adler as he finally turned his head in acknowledgement towards you.
“What makes you so sure?” He asked, curiosity lacing his tone along with intrigue as he moved to place his cigarette for another puff.
You straightened your shoulders as you stared deep into his aviators that shadowed him properly to be America’s Monster.
“They all eventually do.”
Adler paused his hand, lips not around his craving as he stared towards you. Both your gazes not breaking even as Park looked between the two of you before settling with staring at Adler with slightly narrowed eyes.
Adler pressed his lips, a whisper of a smirk as he did it and nodded towards you once more before turning back towards Park.
“You hear that, Park? No reason to worry. Everyone talks. Right, Bell?”
“Yes, sir.” You say, ignoring how your stomach churned yet your heart pounded. You’re no saint. “We both know how to make them.” You slipped out, knowing eyes not leaving his face as you twisted a knife.
Adler didn’t seem to notice, or care really as he seemed to throw Park a mildly triumphant look. You don’t know why it would. You wouldn’t either and can care less about those you tortured—whether false or real.
Monsters do not worry over every drop in the red ocean they created.
Y o u’r e  n o  s a i n t, д е м о н.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You had headphones in, listening to the audio log to finish up the decryption despite the lack of other Intel so you could put all your focus on Operation Red Circus. Instead of the exchange earlier, all of them.
So you didn’t hear when the garage door opened and a van to come in, but you did when it got slammed closed. You jumped in your seat in the corner on your desk, hidden behind the evidence board and the T.V. You lowered your headphones, curious to see what was going on and if Sims brought in another car, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. You standing up so quick your chair almost fell back as you stood next to the T.V., heart thundering only for it to stop as you stared avidly, wildly, madly, hopefully.
Adler moved his hand to guide the red van in, sighing out a puff of smoke as the driver came out.
“Hudson barely gave me any warning about this before you guys arrived. Didn’t think he was going to give the okay on this based on the latest call on Volkov.”
“Well, you know Hudson,” the voice that spoke was quiet yet deep with how it spoke in easy amusement. If one strains their ear, you could spot the reserved soldier with sad eyes and a kind smile. “Always the one that loves to talk.”
“Pfft, yeah,” this one, this one was all rough and throaty as if it got abused in the past from events unknown but one can guess. If one just takes a glance, you could discern the storm stuck in a body yet does a light drizzle for friends despite the thunder. “Hudson’s a real charmer. Don’t tell me that the Russian Godfather decided to finally open his mouth right when we got here.” At Adler’s nod, the one man army groaned. “Man, jet lag is going to be a fuckin killer! Forget hotels, I’m sleeping here until we head out.”
They’re. . . Your hands shook by your side. Not paying kind to Park who stepped out the Red Room, head turned towards you and approaching you as she called out to you. You only stared as you bit the inside of your lip.
Sims, who helped pull the van in and was now leaning against the side of it, shook his head amiably with a chuckle.
“I wouldn’t do that unless you’re fine with a raggedy ass mattress that looks like hasn’t seen the light of day since the ‘60s.”
“I believe the ‘70s personally,” Lazar spoke up as he sat on his desk, empty plate of takeout near him. “It still has potential if one’s desperate.”
“Yeah, well I’m desperate. Now where is it?” He turned his head along with his friend, comrade, forever ally just as they took a few steps close to where Park’s desk was and seeming to notice you the first time. Adler tilting his head at you, you silently just staring at the two as if you haven’t seen them in years, puffing silently as his brow rose curiously. But you could only look dumbly, eyes feeling a little pressure. They’re here. “Who are you and what the fuck are you looking at?” Woods asked sharply.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
Your lips lifted into a smile before it opened, letting a loud bark of a laugh come out. You’re laughing.
When was the last time you laughed? Genuinely?
You could practically feel the stares, but you didn’t care. They’re here.
They were real.
Once your laughter calmed to chuckles and giggles, clearing the corner of your eyes for any possible tears, Adler stepped up between you and the two soldiers. Giving you a quick once over behind his glasses, you waving your hand at him dismissively slightly at his unanswered question, his brow furrowing before relaxing as he put an arm out towards you.
“Woods. Mason. This is Bell, my protege. I spoke to you about her before.”
You quickly fixed yourself and your expression as you took a polite step forward, you probably look absolutely insane. They don’t know you despite you knowing them. Calm down. You just didn’t expect that a change like the others would be this.  Oh god, you looked insane.
“Sorry,” you began, a tiny sheepish play to your lips, “I just—you guys are both legends and I just didn’t expect to see you guys here. At least, so soon. You could say I was a bit. . . excited to put it lightly. Hope I didn’t scare you off?”
Woods and Mason stared at you, Mason having distant amusement playing in his brown eyes as Woods non-subtly leaned towards Mason, a hand slightly covering his mouth.
“Careful Mason,” Woods falsely whispered as he eyed you with suspicion. “We have a rabid fan on our hands.”
“I think she can hear you,” Mason didn’t try to whisper but it didn’t matter as Woods suddenly snorted as he crossed his arms.
“Listen here, Bell. The last thing that’s gonna scare us is someone who got excited about seeing us like we were the fucking—what is it these days? Someone gimme a hand.”
“You talking about bands?” Lazar questioned, Woods nodding as he glanced behind to where the dark skinned man stood by his desk, Lazar staring up in thought. “There’s Fleetwood Mac still going on.”
“Not like how the Beatles was going on,” Woods answered, a little too seriously as you fought a smile while Mason moved and leaned against the evidence board.
“Hear there’s growing popularity with AC/DC and Kiss. They’ve been on the radio a lot lately.”
Woods swiped his hand back and forth as he made a sound of disgust.
“You comparing us to those guys that look like they came out of hell, Mason? What do we look like?”
“I think it fits,” Adler dryly stated, clicking his lighter on to light his cigarette. Woods telling Adler he’s not helping as Park came by next to you with a hand to her hip.
“If demons don’t work, there’s always the Queen. And I’m not talking about the one I serve.”
“Queen is pretty good,” Sims said from behind, “but you guys had to have heard that new song Celebration by the Kool and the Gang. That shit hits.”
“Whichever!” Woods turned towards you asking you how exactly you know about them, you answering honestly that you read up on them on the computer. Seeing no point in hiding it as Woods gave a vicious grin towards you. “Well, aren’t you a nosy little shit. You always read up on everybody?” You were once again honest, saying you like to be thorough with everything but you only had a brief description to go off about them. Whatever secrets they may have is safe with them. Woods sniffed, slightly backing off and Mason appeared to have relaxed his shoulders. “A nosy shit with manners at least. And balls to say all of that to our faces despite what you read.”
True, if you did not know Woods and Mason. Despite that one time where you truly felt their intimidating aura on you, once you get to know them, they’re softies that are loyal. Even with Woods barbed and vulgar words and Mason always observing quietly behind with an assessing look in his eyes, you know they’re shields. Walls. To help with whatever occurred before—just like everyone else here.
And, just like there’s walls. . .
“There’s no innocence here,” you answered, shrugging with a bitter smile.
Woods stared at you for a moment before guffawing, pointing in your direction as he turned to face Adler who stared at you behind his shades as he inhaled his addiction.
“Where’d ya find her, Adler?” Woods asked, before than flapping his hand. “Answer that later. I need food and to knock the fuck out for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” You repeated, even though you already knew as Adler answered.
“Let’s go over the details briefly. You were right, Bell. Volkov talked.”
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You watched after the meeting how Woods moved, all loudness and an army in one body with the propriety of one would find in any soldier—none at all. Refreshing. Needed. Even though he looked at you strange when you offered to help with setting up his bed that was all dust and old in the storage room by the generator.
You wonder in the end, after the cliff, how Woods reacted after just saving you from a large sheet of metal debris. Is it naive thinking that he might’ve been mad?
You looked at Mason, more careful with your approach as you smiled softly at him while you gave him the quick rundown that everyone has a spot chosen for their work. That they could use the desk by where they put the projector if they want. Mason raising a brow at you but letting you once you wisely gave him his space.
Would Mason be furious? You were unlucky because you were under the wrong flag. You were born a Russian. If you weren’t than, maybe, they would’ve kept you like they did him.
Meanwhile, Adler—a gaze that never falters, and eyes that are all-seeing with how hawkish they could be, does he see(?)—observed you silently as you moved to and fro with an energy that wasn’t there before. And a smile that looks genuine. He sits back, and watches.
“Shame you were born in the wrong country.”
There’s a lot of shameful things that are tied to you. But like any good monster, any foolish Icarus, and any stupid girl—you’ll ignore them.
.
.
.
American pup—американский щеноk
American bitch—американская сука
You wish to be American, comrade—ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ
Demon—демон
I don't know if it's been too subtle--but Bell isn't exactly. . .mentally/emotionally healthy right now. Adler is just everywhere. But maybe Woods and Mason can help now by just being there.
I love those two a lot.
This Second Life of Bell is coming to a close soon, this has gone longer than planned but thank you for everyone that has been with me so far! ^///////^ Happy Late 6th Anniversary of Undertale that inspired this story's plot <3
I am having trouble contacting my beta due to Tumblr being stupid with messages. Maybe I can reach them here, please contact me on Discord under username: Animefreak1145 (Code #8517)
*PM me if you wish to be Tagged*
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bangtanpromptsfics · 3 years
Text
coral roses. (m)
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dialogue prompt #2: “If you won't do it then I'll”
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: established relationship, smut, pwp(?), fluff
word count: 1,414
warnings: making out, unprotected sex (more like a quikie(?)), top!oc, bottom!jk
summary: jungkook loses a bet because he needs to devour you
a/n: drop your feedbacks guyss!! pretty much a pwp :)
masterlist
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“If you won't do it then I'll”, he grits his teeth, more like in a cute way making you chuckle. You glance at him through the book you're reading at the moment, winding up to relax from the long day.
“Well then you lose”, you coo. He plops on a farther end of the bed, bringing himself to sit on his heels.
“Why are we even doing this in the first place baby?”, he whines, tapping on your ankles a little to catch your attention. First of all you are taking a really childish challenge way too seriously and acting like a brat on top of that.
“You started it”
“I was drunk!”, he fights back, his doe shaped eyes enlarging to show his disappointment.
“It's just a few more hours Jeon. Don't be so impatient hm?”, you don't look up at him. Going on and about teasing him. He did like it sometimes, but right now wasn't the time.
To put more context, Jungkook drunk confessed that he is addicted to your lips and kept kissing them all through a party and you sort of pricked on his lack of self control. And since Jungkook is a man fond of challenges, he immediately makes a very dramatic toast with half a glass of his liqor that he won't touch you or kiss you for an entire day.
And as usual, his sober self has to bear with the consequences. To take things further down the hole, you are wearing only an oversized hoodie, fresh scent of your shampoo and skincare products around the air, sitting there with a bare face and focused eyes, though that might be just a play you're putting up.
“Aren't you going to change, just gonna sit there? Go take a shower Jungkook you are stinking”, you add, and it's a lie. He smells like his expensive collection of perfumes and much more boyfriend enough to not kiss, but...you know, ego.
To summarise, he had enough of this.
The book is yanked away from your hand. His strong hands builds a cage around your small frame and presses it against the headboard of the bed. He smirks, realising it only takes the bare minimum to make you falter.
“Okay…I lose baby. I just need you now”. he growls.
He immediately seeks home in caressing your outer thigh where your hoodie ends, and spreads them enough for him to settle better to kiss you hard. Loads of pent up frustration and he feels like he is pulled back to life when he finally presses into your mouth.
Thanks to your bratty ass, he doesn't go any easy. A shaky moan leaves your lips when his tongue licks at the floor of your mouth, but also, he isn't doing anything more than holding your thighs when you are already craving and all worked up.
You hold his wrist and try to bring it to your chest, but he slaps it away, so you go for his collars to pull impossibly closer to feel his torso on you, althoughfeeling sad with no other stimulation on your body.
When the air starts to run out, he finally inches back, licking on his lips. Your lips quirk up when he tugs at the hem of your hoodie.
“My baby didn't seem so eager earlier”, he rasps. Glad that your face stays hidden when he slowly pulls out your hoodie, leaving you in white panties.
He holds you by the waist and turns both of your bodies around so that he sits resting back on the headboard while you are straddling his lap, immediately trying to rub against his denim covered thighs for some friction.
He stops, squeezing your butt cheeks, “Patience baby, ride something better hm?”.
He chuckles at the animalistic endeavor of yours to get him naked. But you don't bother to get his pants all the way out, just enough to pull out his member.
He shudders, feeling the air cooling off the wetness on his member, and you get up just a moment enough to be completely bare while he starts stroking himself.
Removing his hands, you hold his girth, pumping it a few times to watch him sink into your touch, head falling back.
You go for his neck, determined to bring spots of purple around it. It feels like you are taking your sweet and his not-so-sweet time to go further, so his grip drops down to hook under the butt and plop you straight on the head of his cock. He holds some sort of intense eye contact, one that of beyond lust, but there is no time for any analysis when he jerks his pelvis upward to sear into you.
You clench almost pathetically around him and he groans, guiding you to bob up and down his length.
Jungkook can't come up with any coherent thoughts to word his feelings right now. He just loves you so much and very happy to have a really healthy relationship, one consistent for years and with understanding. He feels like tearing up, out of both pleasure and warmth.
He sees you fondling with your breasts so he leans forward to lick in some attention to the pebbled buds. The more faster you went on him, he suked in harder, biting around to return the artwork on his neck and along the jaw.
“I'm close baby… mngh keep going”, he aligns his movements accordingly to let you feel him as deeper as possible. You can't come up with words, except chanting his name for every clench of the wall.
Though it was just breif sex, it felt euphoric after being touch deprived. A day doesn't sound long, but he is crazy about you and could make love all day if he could.
With a silent scream, he comes, starting your own orgasm. It takes a moment to come down from the high.
You remain as you are, close and cuddled. The bed is probably stinking with sweat and arousal, but you couldn't care any less. You wrap your hands around his torso, feeling his cock softening inside you.
“I love you so much baby”, he whispers, planting a kiss to your cheek. You blush and press your cheeks to his pecs, “I love yo— what's that? ”
His pants have ridden further down his thighs and something is poking out of his pocket. You feel his heartbeat increasing against your cheek.
Fuck. It's a ring.
“Baby please don't freak out I can explain! ”, he shouts out, wrapping his hands around you more firmly, assuming the worst of the scenarios.
You hug him back, eyes still on the black velvet box spread out on the bed.
“I planned so much. I swear. I wanted to make this perfect”, he rushes to supply. He feels your warm hands rubbing his back to calm him down.
“Kookie”, you pull away from him, hands cupping his cheek because he is too terrified to look at you in the eye right now, “Please propose to me”.
He takes a moment to let your words sink in. And after, he is the quickest thing on earth to grab the box and open it.
“Y-Y/n…”.
“Take it easy. Breathe Kook. You are not breathing. It's just me. ”
That puts him into more ease. He feels embaressed that he couldn't do it in a more independent manner, the way he had them all laid out— coming Saturday at the first cafe you went on a date. It was supposed to be perfect. You would walk home holding hands, and then he would get on one knee and tell you how much you mean to him. But it's all gone now and he feels bad.
You hold his pecs and give it a pat and he smiles, a nervous one, “Y/n...will you marry me?”
You plant a sweet kiss to his lips. It feels a little salty from his incoming tears. You rub it away with the pad of your thumbs, “Yes Kookie, I'll marry you”.
“Baby you make me the happiest man alive”, he sobs. His hands still trembling to place the ring on your fingers. It's lavish and work of custom made beauty, he put months of work into it. Though things didn't go exactly planned, it was a happy ending. He can't wait to see you in a white dress at the altar, to be the father to your kids and to call you his wife for the rest of his life.
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Thank you so much for reading!! ♡
Original Content of ©bangtanpromptfics
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It worked! Sorry to bug you with a message! But I'd like to request a cake now!
So, about me. I have an actual name but I don't think I've heard it in months😃, instead I have a bunch of nicknames! (Rion, ri, oreo, onion, o, etc), I'm actually nb so I chose that name, however I 100% consider naming myself Arson💀My pronouns are they/them and I'm about 5'5, I have short, fluffy brown hair that I usually dye the front blue. I'm Asian hispanic, but I really don't look like either- my favorite foods are either really spicy and salty or sweet. Not the overwhelming chemical sweet tho, like a natural sweet flavor. My personality type is infp, and ig when I first meet people I can be shy (that's an understatement, I was mute for the first week of school🕳🏃‍♂️) but once I get to know people I can be pretty chaotic (once again, arson). I'm not a 100% demon spawn though, I don't really like making scenes in public and I probably will cry if I do- but I still have fun lol. I'm also the person who copes with severe mental health issues using humor, to an alarming degree 😔 I'm the therapist friend when really I'm the one who needs therapy. I also have a social battery that can die at random times, so I really like/need friends who can handle random mood changes of me going from energetic to silent in seconds. Academically, I'm really book smart, I'm a tutor, but my grades don't reflect it. I tend to procrastinate a lot and avoid studying, usually I catch myself last minute or trust memory on tests, but every now and then there's something that tanks my grades. I'm not very athletic, but I still try to play sports. I enjoy the feeling when I do something right, but the rest of the time I usually beat myself up for messing up.
And now just random facts 😃👍
My favorite color is yellow, not the bright eye sore shade that makes you want to throw up, but the nice softer, light shade. And I like anything that comes with that color! (Sunflowers, flowy sundresses and flip flops, summer activities, burning concrete, warm rain, etc). Nobody knows my music taste, it changes weekly, however I usually come back to mitski/cavetown or summer themed songs a lot! I enjoy playing music, but I have the curse of being a fast learner so that usually leads to be being bored and learning a new instrument at any given chance. And my birthday is a weird date that fucks with zodiacs so I can be considered either a leo or cancer, my personality changes a bunch, so take your pick lol. (Though emotionally I tend to be cancerous, I just express it and show it in a way a leo would) And someday I wanna be a long term traveler, or a florist. Just a job that makes me happy :). And I guess if I had to classify my aesthetic it would be bloomcore or soft grunge. I like wearing big sweaters and if I could I would wear a bunch of butterfly clips in my hair and wear mom jeans. (I would also wear man crushers, I mean, platforms if I was confident)
Aaaannnnd that was really long sorry!
To sum up, I'm just a bipolar bitch with depression and anxiety 👍
Thanks a bunch for just taking the time to read this!
@oririon
Romantic Matchup
Bokuto Koutarou
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How Y’all Met
IERJNDJS
I’m getting a classic summer love vibe from this matchup 👀
Ok so I just Hc that Bokuto LOVES flowers
So he would always just go to the local flower shop to look at them
Pls hes to precious I cant-
But anyways you we’re working a summer job at the flower shop
And you grew fond of our little owl boy
You would always talk to him whenever he visited
He just made your job that much more enjoyable :)
So one day you stopped him right before he left and told him he could pick a bouquet of flowers if he wanted
He BEAMED at you and picked a bouquet of flowers he always looked at whenever he came
But what shocked you was instead of walking out with them
He gave them to you!
He then went on talking about how he really liked you but didn’t know how to tell you
At this point he was just rambling
So you laughed and asked him if he would like to go to the ocean with you after your shift
He agreed and you swear you saw stars in his eyes
After your shift you met up with Bokuto and went to the beach
You guys literally spent ALL day there!
And even some of the night 👀
Being the gentleman he is offered to walk you home
And when you two got to your house he asked you to be his s/o
What They Love About You
Ok starting off with a strange one
He loves the fact that your favorite color is yellow 💛
He just thinks it fits you so well 😊
He loves that you have to ability to turn your trauma into humor
Now I’m ngl...
Ye found it extremely concerning at first 🥲
But once you explained it was like a coping mechanism for you
He was super supportive!
AAAAAAAA
He LOVES your aesthetic!
He thinks it’s so cute
And once again he thinks it fits you 👀
He appreciates the fact that your smart
If he doesn’t understand something in class
He’ll just go to you!
And honesty going over the material with him has helped your understanding as well 👀
Bokuto s grades:📈
Your grades: 📈
Favorite Things To Do Together
Oml he loves summers with you
Any summer activity
Beaches
Ice cream
Flower meadows 👀
Summer night drives
The whole shtick
But when it’s not summer
He loves doing classic seasonal activities
Examples:
Fall - Jumping in leaf piles, coffee dates, preparing for Halloween, etc
Winter - Snowball fights/Making Snowmen, Christmas movie marathons, hot cocoa/ baking, etc
Spring - Dancing in the rain, picnics, gardening etc
It’s a vibe year round with bf Bokuto
Random Hc
His favorite season is summer
And his second is winter
Ik...polar opposites
Oof
He TOTALLY gets your mood swings
Although they may not be the same as his
He still understands them and respects them
Every year on your anniversary he buys you the exact same bouquet he gave you at the flower shop
Speaking of the flower shop 👀
He got a job there with you the following summer
So you guys basically spent most of your days together
Bokuto is REALLY bad at dark humor
But for some reason he still tries 😭
It’s either TOO dark
Or not dark at all 💀
Astrology
(We’re gonna go with your cancer zodiac 😂)
When Cancer and Virgo make a love match, a strong, down-to-earth relationship with staying power is the happy result.
This is a relationship with great potential to get better and better over the passing years.
Both Cancer and Virgo are goal-oriented and disciplined.
They are sincere and devoted to one another and share a strong sense of purpose.
No lightweight love here: These two were not really built for flings!
Cancer and Virgo deeply admire one another: Virgo respects Cancer’s quiet strength and dedication while Cancer appreciates Virgo’s keen adaptability and intelligence.
These lovers may get off to a slow start, but over time, bonds will only grow stronger.
The Cancer-Virgo love match prides itself on common sense and strong principles over fluff and inconsequential or fleeting connections.
They enjoy the material comforts of life, but they will only feel good about their bounty if it has come as a result of honest hard work.
There could be tiffs if Virgo becomes too critical for Cancer’s easily bruised feelings; Cancer needs to understand that it’s just Virgo’s nature to point out what they observe, that it’s not a personal attack.
A Virgo may bristle at their Cancer mate’s stubborn streak, but it’s a trait that a patient and understanding love partner like Virgo could come to appreciate.
Also, Virgo’s urge to serve suits Cancer’s affectionate, nurturing nature well.
Their dedication to working toward the same goals.
Both partners in this love match enjoy a stable home life and nice things, and Virgo truly enjoys helping Cancer along the way to achieving their goals.
Their shared goals and desires make theirs a highly compatible love match.
Overall Aesthetic
Bloomcore 🌸
Bloom - Jesse
This Side of Paradise - Coyote Theory
Flaming Hot Cheetos - Claire
Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens
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cherry-ber · 4 years
Text
Too drunk to fuck (pt 8)
Previous | Part one
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He had a strange feeling after leaving your house. He felt relieved that he spent some time with you, he had been craving that for days now, but he knew that his last chance was gone. He decided to go to Jaemin's place, he knew he was wrong, he needed to talk to him, and he needed to make sure thag everything was okay between them. He liked you, and if you wouldn't be together ever, he wanted to keep you, and him, as a friend. He parked on his front porch and his mother opened the door for him.
“Sweetheart” she gave him a fond smile, Mark always felt home with Jaemin's family “He's upstairs, but he's sick, be careful”
Mark went to his room, ashamed and preparing a good speech that was worthy for his actions.
He knocked in the door and immediately opened it.
“Hi”
“What do you want now?” He didn't notice the night before, but Jaemin got a bunch of bruises in his face, the guilt of making him go save his ass forming again.
“I wanted to talk”
Jaemin knew better than to be immature and start a fight, but he felt betrayed enough to do so.
“I don't. Thanks for coming”
“Listen, man, I know that it's hell to put up with me, I know I put you through a lot, I just came to say sorry, for everything, I mean it”
He thought for a while, he knew Mark was sincere, and that he was sorry, but still, he was salty over everything.
“Fine”
“I mean it”
“I know” Mark couldn't tell if there was anything else to do, or to say, so he sat on the bed next to his friend. “You spoke to Y/N?”
“Yes” he sighed “She encouraged me to come”
“She's caring”
“I know”
Both men couldn't help but think about you, and the way that you've shown interest in them, for being them, which felt unreal for some reason.
“She cares for you, Mark”
His words felt heavy, he couldn't help it, he knew it was true.
“I know. I do too”
“Mark, I have to be honest, too” Jaemin's own guilt didn't allow him to sleep properly, and left him with no appetite at all, he felt weak keeping something from his friend “I accidentally confessed to her yesterday. I really didn't mean it, but... I did”
“I know you did. It's okay”
“She didn't say anything, though, I feel like i rushed it, I feel like i ruined it for you”
He didn't want to talk about it anymore, but he couldn't leave Jaemin feeling down any more.
“Are you really sick?”
“No. I just feel down”
“She told me she brought you lunch, she wanted to be with you” Jaemin smiled slightly “She cares for you, too”
“She hasn't replied yet, though”
“Maybe she just forgot, I took her time, sorry”
They laughed it off, somehow the tension was slightly less intense, and soon they felt like they used to.
“Are you ever telling her what happened?” Jaemin asked, in a very serious tone.
“I don't want to scare her away. I don't think i will”
Mark stayed for dinner and went to his own place after, no one was waiting for him anyway. He felt better suddenly. He still didn't know what to do, but the guilt wasn't eating alive anymore.
“Monday, 8:46 p.m, Na Jaemin♡: I hope I'm not bothering you, I just wanted to know if you had dinner already.”
You had been busy with homework and chores you skipped through the weekend, and barely remembered to eat, perhaps you would've skipped dinner too if he hadn't texted you.
“Monday, 8:52 p.m: youre not bothering me
I'm about to grab something, thanks for the reminder :)”
“Monday, 8:53 p.m, Na Jaemin♡: :)
Did you have a nice day? :)”
You could picture him asking that, with a bright smile, and soft look.
“Monday, 8:56 p.m, Na Jaemin♡: Can I call you?”
“Monday, 8:56 p.m: yessssss:)”
Jaemin's voice on the phone was deeper than usually, you had a short conversation about your day, and your time with the boys.
“So Jisung likes you?”
“Well, he said so... Is that a big deal?”
“He's my baby, of course it's a big deal!” he was so excited that you were getting closer to them, he appreciated the time you spent with them, even without him or Mark.
“Oh, talking about big deals” he figured that you had been concerned about him and Mark “Mark came around, we're... On good terms, I guess. I just wanted to let you know, I know you care for him”
“I care for you both” silence, but not the awkward kind, it felt more like something was sinking in his mind “I got you something for lunch today, I was excited to be with you, it's a shame you got sick”
When Mark first told him about the detail you had for him, he thought he was kidding or making it up to make him feel better, but when you reassured him that you did, he felt overwhelmed by your love, even if it was something simple, you cared so much for him.
“You're the sweetest, Y/N, I swear”
You didn't know how, or what exactly inspired you, but you built some courage to ask him out.
“I might be... Would you want to come to have dinner with me on Friday?”
Jaemin was speechless. He didn't want to get the wrong idea, but was that a date? Did you like him, too?
“Obviously, I would love to”
You felt like you made a big accomplishment.
“My parents wanted to know you better, I hope you don't mind”
“I don't. I'm so excited already, wow”
Whatever any of you said after was almost meaningless, with you planning already the day and him excited to tell his best friend, maybe a little bit scared of making a mistake.
When you hung up, both went to bed immediately, having trouble to sleep at first, but finally doing it so peacefully.
On the other hand, Mark felt like everything was getting out of his hands, and he couldn't choose what to save. He hadn't stopped smoking, his throat ached but he didn't care, he felt like he didn't care about anything anymore. He knew he had been selfish, not only with his friends, but also with you, expecting you to give him everything without giving something back. He wished someone at home would try to ask what was wrong, but that didn't happen. He didn't know how to act now, should he stay away from you, or should he show you he could be better?
He wanted to be better. All of his friends did. Living with the stigma of being some sort of criminals was cool sometimes, but he knew that it wasn't worth it at all. He knew that deep down, all of them wanted to be normal, all of them regretted all the mistakes they've made.
But there was not much to do anyway, he was realistic and he knew that he wouldn't change much just by wishing things were different.
He felt like he couldn't stop making mistakes, so, he decided to text you first.
Thursday, 12:34 a.m, Mark♡: Thanks for meeting me today
I really want to thank you for
I don't know
Making me better?
See you tomorrow”
♡Next
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A.N: i think i got too into my own story, tbth i wouldn't know who to choose if i were in this place. Anyway, i just wanted to thank you for reading, for being pacient and nice. I hope you're enjoying your reading, and remember that requests are open, while i post the next part. ♡
Have a nice day/night/afternoon. ♡
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randomfandomz · 4 years
Text
GET READY FOR A LOT OF HUSK HEADCANNONS
Im not sorry–
Depressed as f*ck so he doesnt have the modivation to take care of himself
He drinks mainly to forget, and to releive stress
Not only that but he H A T E S water(not as much as Baxter does, but he still avoids it like the plauge)
He never showers until he absolutely has to
Like his fur is always matted and alchohol scented
And he thinks licking himself clean like non-demon cats do is absolutely out of the question, it is gross and undignified, he doesnt want to lick himself and water makes his fur feel heavy and cold and he w i l l argue with you about this
He hates having fur. He just hates it. Its hard to take care of and things get stuck in it, it gets caught in things and just hhhh h h h H H - NO
Will straight up refuse to shower until Charlie makes him
Everyone in the hotel knows about shower day
The day when they make Husk take a shower because e w g r o s s o l d m a n -
Baxter somewhat sympathizes with him about his hatred of water
Not like he actually shows it or does anything to help him though- because 1) Bax really doesnt give a flying f*ck, he just wants to do science and this doesnt concern science so he couldnt care less, and 2) He doesnt wanna speak up because s o c i a l a n x i e t y . S o c i a l i n t e r a c t i o n ? N o t h a n k y o u .
Hes literally a cat, so he hates water with a burning passion
Husk's self image is kinda... ehhhhhh- I mean, its not like he really is that bad looking, if anything he looks pretty damn cool, but he honestly finds himself pretty unattractive. "The fur and wings d o n t h e l p "
Doesnt care if you call him old unless youre trying to be offensive; Hes proud of his age and experience
Even though he acts like an old man(well, he kinda is, but-) hes actually younger than Baxter, Mimzy, Alastor, Angel, and Nifty
Only Vaggie and Crymini are younger than him
When Husk first arrived at the hotel he didnt really wanna interact with anyone; New places kind of stress him out, so it took a long time for him to adjust and not snap at every little thing
Dont get me wrong, hes still a pissy alchoholic^tm, but the anger is less serious/genuine and more just because thats how he is
Husk fought in the vietnam war, and he attempted(and failed) suicide multiple times after the war until he was eventually beaten to death outside of a bar
He turned to alchoholism and gambling as a coping mechanism
Husk suffers from PTSD(Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), along with the obvious alchoholism and gambling addiction
He is very salty/sad that he's a war vet but died in a bar fight, and wouldn't be remembered for his fighting but rather for being beaten to death in a bar while trying to drink away the feelings he had about not being welcomed home because of the way the media portrayed him and his fellow soldiers that fought in Vietnam
Upon learning that Husk is a vietnam war vet(he mentioned it while drunk off his ass- more than usual) one patron who attended the hotel for a short time told him "Welcome home doc!". Husk was surprised, as he had come to terms with the idea that he would never be thanked or welcomed for his services, but he did make sure to be maybe a bit less pissy to that particular guest. He will never forget them. It meant more to him than he would like to admit.
((I can't really think of a better reason as to why Husk would bring it up, but having seen one or two instances of someone saying "welcome home" to Vietnam war vets, I really wanted to add this. The "Welcome home doc" thing was me referencing a specific instance of this ive seen. Im so sorry if I'm wrongly portraying this in anyway, I tried to do enough research first before typing this part out, but I just wanted to point out that I tried my best to be respectful while talking about the subject.))
Moving on- L A S E R P O I N T E R S
One time Angel was just casually messing around with a laser pointer, out of boredom or something
HUSK'S RESPONSE WAS IMMEDIATE
HE WILL CHASE THAT RED DOT TO THE ENDS OF THE GODDAMN EARTH
"That DAMN RED DOT where the FUCK did iT gO!?"
He HATES that he does this, but he really cannot help it
Being a cat demon, and being Husk, his hunt and kill instinct is through the roof(hunt and kill instinct is why cats chase laser pointers btw)
Was VERY pissy for the next few weeks after this incident
Husk will purr involuntarily whenever someone pets him or strokes his fur
He WILL murder anyone who attempts to pet him or make him purr without consent(*COUGH COUGH* ANGEL *COUGH*)
Same goes for the wings DO NOT TOUCH THE WINGS, JUST DONT-
In his room, Husk's bed is literally a mound of blankets and pillows inside a box
Even he needs to get warm and comfortable after a long day
He never lets anyone in his room
Like n e v e r
Angel snuck in one night- Husk's half asleep drunken a*s shoved him out and yelled at him, waking up practically all the hotel staff and a few guests
In his defense, Angel, upon seeing the sleeping Husk, scratched behind his ears. Husk started to purr, but then snapped to somewhat conciousness, and realized what the f*ck was going on-
Yes, Husk is v e r y defensive
Give him a compliment? He wont accept it under any circumstances. He will probably be flustered and claim that the other is either lying or just kissing up to him
"You know you dont have to kiss my a*s to ask me something, right? The fuck do you want?"
Charlie honestly finds his reaction to compliments very sad
Has a kind of "well ya didnt need to point it out" attitude towards insults
Alastor insults him with the worst names in the book? He accepts it and couldnt give less f*cks
Even if its someone either than Alastor insulting him, usually even if he acts offended and p*ssed off, somewhere in his mind he just accepts it
Usually Alastor is the one insulting him, but in a "best friend rights" kind of way
He likes being creative when it comes to colorful language
"Look out to my sea of f*cks, and see how it is barren"
Doesnt have a "soft spot" for kids like Angel, but doesnt mind lessening the swearing a bit and doing a few magic tricks for the occasional child that somehow found their way to the hotel
He HISSES
If Husk is hissing at you you better f*ckin rUN-
He usually refrains from hissing- its part of him rebelling against his cat-like nature, but if he is openly hissing at you it means he is at his wits-end and is honestly P * S S E D .
sERIOUSLY, F*CKING R U N -
Crymini has a blog documenting all the cat-like things Husk does, and she sometimes does the classic "THIS IS A HUSK IN ITS NATURAL HABITAT" or "LETS SEE HOW THE KITTY REACTS TO THIS NEXT THING" bit, and Husk honestly finds it insulting as f*ck
Crymini pranked Husk with a cucumber(you know how cats on the internet are terrified of them) and Husk was actually scared of it, and he ran up a f*cking tree and wouldnt come down for a solid hour, partly put of legitimate fear, and partly out of spite from seeing the slightly guilty look on Crymini's face after the first 20 minutes of him hiding up there
Being a cat demon, alchohol is actually slightly toxic to him, and he is prone to alchohol poisoning. He usually drinks beer, which has low ammount of ethanol(5-7%)[ethanol is what makes alchohol so toxic to cats]
Baxter has a spray bottle to use on Husk if he is being particularly stubborn or bothersome. Charlie sometimes uses her own spray bottle for similar purposes, but she usually says something like "Bad kitty! No!" Along with it to tease him. Husk finds it humiliating and hates when his fur is wet, so surprisingly the spray bottle thing usually works.
He is demi-panromantic and asexual
H A T E S being touched, like under any circumstances
"The last time I voluntarily made physical contact with another being was in 1970 and it was while I was loosing a bar fight. It was also the day I was beaten to death and setenced to hell."
Bonus:
Angel: Hey kitty~! Wanna cuddle~?
Husk: The last time I voluntarily made physical contact with another being was in 1970 and it was while I was loosing a bar fight.
Angel: Oh really? *snickers* And how'd that work out for ya'?
Husk: Well, it was also the day I was beaten to death and put in hell. So I dunno. You tell me.
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btsareyandere · 5 years
Text
Lucky
Yandere Jin 
'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!' You repeat to yourself, your bare feet slapping against the oak flooring of the hallway you race along.
The bathroom door swings open and lands against the wall with a thud.
Rushing to the sink you begin washing the soles of your feet knowing you don't have time for a shower. The spit in your mouth is becoming thick and hard to swallow as time ticks by and your anxiety worsens, 'God, he's going to kill me.' You half cry whilst you scrub at all the dirt you can see. The mess seems to be getting bigger the more you clean yourself, brown water is settling on the white countertop, tufts of grass are littering the tiles and a quick glance in the mirror brings the state of your hair to your attention.
"Y/N! Come here please". The voice of your husband carrying up the stairs stills your body. For a second you wonder if hiding is the best option, maybe if you keep them waiting long enough he'll be forced to deal with you later.
'No' you whisper because of course, Jin would never back down and even if, by some miracle he did, the price you'd pay later would be more than you could afford.
Having made a decision, you try to dry yourself with toilet roll, something you can flush and hide the evidence of, before combing your fingers through your hair and walking to the stairs.
"Y/n!" He shouts louder this time. "I'm waiting, you know I don't wait". The length of your stride widens to get you there faster and when you do, Jin and two important looking men were stood looking at you.
When jin sees the state of you, barefoot, muddy and inappropriately clothed in a thin summer dress, his eyes narrow and darken.
Your mind thinks back to his comment when he kissed your head this morning when he left for work..'two of my best acquaintances are coming round tonight. Be sure to look presentable and clean, they have standards y/n and I won't have you show me up. I know how well behaved and beautiful you are, let's let them see it too'. Yeah, you went and fucked up.
In your defence, the grass cutters came in the late afternoon to begin mowing the acres of land that Jin's mansion backs onto and through pure boredom and loneliness, you snuck out to talk with them. Talking turned to laughing, laughing turned into you making them drinks and eventually with you playing like a child in the cut grass.
Jin never said you couldn't go out today.
Jin's fingers snapping together made you focus on him once again, his hand was pointed at the bottom step angrily. "Come here, right now!"
Meekly, you tiptoe down to stand in front of him, being one step up made you eye level with him.
"Tell me why you look like you do".
He demands.
Before you even open your mouth, you can feel the words getting stuck in your throat, fighting for space when so many of them are trying to jump out and argue your innocence.
You gulp quickly as you glance at the men behind him, they look just as ashamed as Jin does. "I um, I was reading a magazine and they...erm, it's a new fashion, like a style. It was...you know my favourite actress, yeah so she..on the catwalk, in um Hollywood maybe. Um...yeah..." your shoulders drop at the realisation that you've just fucked up, even more, you've never been a good liar but this was embarrassing even for you.
"Y/n" he growled, fists tightening at his side "don't you dare lie to me. I swear, it will be the last lie you come up with".
Your eyes start to burn as salty tears build up, ready to fall at any moment. "I'm sorry. Jin I'm sorry, I can go change". The power behind jins silent stare is unimaginable and has you punishing yourself before he can even touch you. Your nails dig painfully into your palms as you bang them against your outer thighs. Since being with jin, you have developed certain habits that he hates and tries to condition out of you. He's managed to get them down to almost nothing but even this tiny outlet of built-up stress and fear still annoys him. "Stop hitting yourself, that's my job" he swats at your arm to stop you.
"Please jin, I'll change super quick" you beg.
"There isn't time. This.." he pauses his sentence to pull at your flowy white dress, causing you to stumble into him. "This isn't something that can be fixed quickly. Did I or did I not, tell you I was expecting company and you weren't under any circumstances to show me up?" You don't get a chance to reply before he shouts once again "I did y/n! I gave you clear instructions and you chose to disobey me and now you've shown this side of yourself to two complete strangers." Spit is hitting you in the face as he yells but you don't dare to look away or wipe it.
With a trembling chin and eyes big enough to hold an ocean of tears, you beg him to forgive you. "I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry. I lost track of time, please don't hurt me Jin". The men behind him had moved to flank him and watch as jin tears strips off of you in front of them.
"Hurt you? You think I'm going to hurt you? Is that the kind of man I am now? Someone who beats his wife." Well from your experience, yes, yes he is the type of man he just angrily described.
To avoid getting yourself into further trouble, you simply shake your head and grip his shirt to make yourself seem as pathetic as possible and hopefully gain some sympathy.
He sighs and grips one of your wrists painfully tight, turning both of you round to face his friends. "Gentlemen, as you have probably guessed, this is my wife. I can assure you she usually acts better than this, her training has been...extensive shall we say". They all laugh in understanding and look down at you like a child that's made a comical mistake.
"Don't worry too much Jin. Sometimes my wife is the same, bless them, they try but often forget simple rules." The taller man says.
"Yeah, it's the same with mine. You should consider yourself lucky, little lady. Not all men are as understanding as your husband." He reaches out and ruffles your hair to which you feel Jin react and squeeze your wrist tighter. He never did like it when people touched you.
"Hurry and apologise" jin spits at you.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." You said more to jin than to them but they all accepted it.
"Come on then, let's go to the living room and I'll have the maids bring us something to drink". Jin gestured for the men to head towards the room on the far left and followed them, dragging you along without letting you know if you're welcome or not.
Once he has watched his friends seat themselves, jin takes up position in his own armchair, releasing your wrist and allowing the blood to start flowing to your hand again.
He straightens his suit out before once again clicking his fingers, "stand here. Right here" you shuffle closer and closer to the side of his seat before he motions for you to stop, "you're too filthy for my furniture, you'll stand in silence. Do you understand?"
You nod your head like last time but this time it's not enough. He reaches back and slaps behind your knees firmly, causing you to release a gasp. "Answer me when I'm talking to you".
"Y-yes jin, I understand you." You whisper.
"She's cute" one of them praises.
"Yeah, she tries." Jin sluggishly replies.
The evening drags on and they make it through several bottles of wine..each. Jin, however, sticks to his usual two glasses and watches amused as his friend's tongues get looser and looser. "...And so the other day I bought her some new underwear and told her she can only wear those around the house" they all three burst into hysterics but to you, it wasn't funny. It hurt you to know that more women were living like you and with men that seemed even worse than jin. Maybe jin was better than them.
Several more degrading and sexist comments had you lose control over yourself and you tut quietly as you roll your eyes simply for your own benefit.
"Excuse you," jin says without looking at you.
You bite down on your lip and pretend he wasn't talking to you, something that didn't last long when his hand grips the back of your hair and pulls you down to his eye level, over the arm of the chair.
"Do you not think you're in enough trouble as it is?"
You use one hand to hold yourself up while the other one hovers by your head, wanting to force him to let you go but too afraid to do it.
"I-i" you begin when he cuts you off.
"I-i" he mocks. "You're a stuttering mess y/n. Just don't say anything unless I tell you to. How can you be so dumb all the time?" Thick tears are now dropping from your eyes to his shirt and he notices. He pushes you down to the floor at his feet and holds you there, "Everything you do makes a mess. The floor is the only place you won't ruin anything." His temper was flaring and despite their level of drunkenness, his friends were feeling it's their time to leave.
"Well, it looks like you have some things to work out jin. We'll be going now". They both stand to say their final goodbyes when Jin finally looks away from you. "I'm sorry you had to see this." He says as he points at you.
His friend smiles knowingly and attempts to reassure him. "Honesty it's okay. I find they get a bit more disobedient when they're on their period. It's not their fault really I suppose".
Jin looks at you again "are you bleeding?" You feel your cheeks burn impossibly hot as they continue to dehumanised and belittle you.
All you can do is shake your head and silently plead for Jin to take you from this situation.
"Hmp," He says almost as if he were perplexed about the reasoning behind your bad behaviour.
You glance up at the men with jins hand still in your hair.
The other one gazes down at you with a lustful smile "You're a very lucky man Jin." You watch as his tongue slips across his chapped lips and it repulses you. You cower backwards slightly, resting between jins legs. When he notices your behaviour Jin smiles inwardly, he knows that no matter how he treats you, you're bound to him forever.
"I know." Jin snaps at his friend. "Y/n, go upstairs and wait on all fours for me. There's no way you're getting away with this kind of behaviour. I'll have the maid run you a hot bath after, you won't be sitting down for a while. Go now!"
You quickly spring to your still slightly muddy feet and race to your room to fulfil his demands and this time you won't be late.
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@jinnenchimchim @v-2bucky @aria101404
Not proofread.
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army-author · 5 years
Note
Oh. My. Gosh. Just finished Written On Our Veins and was that one of the best stories I've ever read or what? I'm still in tears! So marvelous! You are an exceptionally gifted writer-- gosh! I can't even fathom at how you put such a masterpiece together! It's divine.
Awwww :’) Thank you so so so much! I’m so glad to hear you enjoyed it! ‘Written On Our Veins’ was one of my favourite fics to write, so I’m really glad it brought you joy (and some tears too, sorry about that!) I’ll always hold this story close to my heart, and I’m glad that other people get to enjoy something I’ve created!
(I’ve answered your other messages under the ‘read more’ section, since there was a lot to reply to 💖)
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog said: I’m screaming! Red Faced was so precious and hilarious! “She knows too much.” Like, straight out of an action flick before the line, “She must be eliminated.” I’m dying from how wonderous this story was! Gosh, Christmas Hobi stories are literally my favorite. No joke. He is the epitome of Christmas, I swear. So I’m just going to go into my little shell here and squeal and die some more, don’t mind me. I love your stuff! Ah!
Asdfghjklll thank you once again! Seeing all this love in my inbox made me so so happy! I’m really glad you liked ‘Red Faced’. Christmas and Hobi really do go hand in hand, he’s just so filled with sunshine, he warms up all that December snow :’)))
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Metallic Snow was sooooo fluff and sweet, I think I got diabetes! I think I came across this story some time ago, but never got to finish it as it was probably one of the ones that was left on my page as I walked away for a day or so to go about my life and tumblr and my phone conspired to refresh my feed and just go back to my home… But anyway! I’m just so glad that I found it again! Fate brought me back. Lmfbo.
Aw, it makes me so happy to hear that you found ‘Metallic Snow’ again, and that you like it! It truly was fate!!!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: I’m crying. A Story Book Ending was marvelous! My heart can’t take just how perfect your rendition of The Nutcracker was, with some liberties, and a gaurded Hoseok. Like, my head is spinning and my heart is in a flurry of emotions. I’m still reeling from the magic you wrote into the story– your own. Phenomenal! You’d better bet your butter balled butt that I’ll be reading the rest of your Hoseok works, even if it kills me! Heartache and all. Lol. Because that’s just what great Hobi stories do.
Ahhhh thank you :’’’’) Man, your comments are all so nice, and kind, and I’m crying over here, reading through all this! It makes me so ridiculously happy that my writing can have this kind of effect on you! I really loved writing ‘A Story Book Ending’, the nutcracker story is fun to re-write because of the magic and fantasy of it all! I’m so happy that I was able to capture some of that in my own writing!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: I’M CRYING. Soulmates or Strangers was so sweet, sugary and fluffy that I am fanning my cheeks and clenching my poor, bitter, lonely little heart! That ending had my heart in my throat, swelling to three times it’s size, leaving me gasping–choking–for anything to alleviate the bittersweet ache in my heart that I self-deprecatingly crave. I’m a mess. I’m a puddle of mush– a blob of goo left behind by your sugary tales of romanticism. And what is this pistachio latte and where can I find one?!
Aw man! Thank you so much! This message is so sweet as well, you’ve left me clutching my heart, overcome with love! I’m so happy my writing can have this effect, because as a writer, it’s my goal to stir up all these emotions in my readers! :’) Thank you so so much for your kind words!
(Also, pistachio lattes are so so good!!! There’s a small Itallian cafe in the city I study in, and it sells these lattes, and they are just… so delicious!)
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Give Me Sunshine left me feeling so warm and fuzzy! Thank you for writing such sweet little pieces! (Even though it’s the sweet fluff that hurts the most, so I’m left with some residual nausea as well. Don’t ask me why– I’m a wreck. Don’t look at me.) But all because you’re such a fantastic writer and I have loved everything I’ve read of yours so far! I’ve come away smiling like a fruit loop and that’s because of you– so thank you! And Hoseok. But the Hoseok that you write, so it’s all you lol
Aw man, ‘Give Me Sunshine’ was one of the first fics I wrote for this blog! I’m glad it’s still getting love even now! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! :’) It makes my day to know I made someone else smile!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: I am sufficiently crying now. Like, my head is grating, stomach in knots, bile rising, throat constricting… Sorry, Mama was remarkably written and well drafted, as all the other works of yours that I’ve read, but something about this angst had me feeling like I was being personally attacked, and yet– not. Lol. I know I wasn’t. Like, it hit so close to home on some things, and then shot way out into left field in the same moment. Anyway, phenomenal use of writing to the readers subconscious’.
I think ‘Sorry, Mama’ is still one of the saddest fics I’ve written, even though I’ve written fics where worse things happen. It was quite a personal story for me, which is probably why it’s so filled with emotion. Anyway, I’m so sorry that I made you cry, but I guess I’m also glad my writing was powerful enough to get that reaction?
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Just read Anniversary (Hoseok’s Scenario) and that’s literally just what I needed after reading that pile of steaming angst that had me up to the bathtub’s brim in salty tears. Lol. Anyway. This was so precious and sugary sweet! I loved it. Always!
Aw yay! I’m glad I was able to repair the damage after ‘Sorry, Mama’!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: BAHYE SATAN!! White Chocolate Chip Cookie has so many emotions stirring up inside of me for only having 400 words and I can’t handle this! Don’t look at me. I love white chocolate chip cookies, and cuddles, and warm blankets and hot chocolate and– GIXKYDKHU. NO. NO NO NONONO. *cries in the club* Why must you torment my heart, so? I know it’s my own fault for reading the cavity-inducing fluff, but when you put it out there, and it’s so phenomenal– I CAN’T RESIST THE TEMPTATION! You are satan.
I love cookies and cuddles and warm blankets and hot chocolate too! Which is why I loved writing this fic so much :’))) I’m so sorry for putting the temptation there for you, heheh!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: But you’re also an angel. >.
I’m conflicted too! Am I an angel? Or a devil? You’re giving me very mixed signals haha! But no, sorry to disappoint, I’m not a Korean man! I’m just a girl with a lot of stories in her head :’)
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Oh my gosh. Okay, you really need to stop. (But please don’t.) Kissing Santa was so freaking precious and my stomach is in knots and I am dying on the inside and– NO. Just– no. Lmbo. The whole scene was just perfect, my heart is overflowing in warmth and cotton candy and sugar plums and I just want to cry into hot chocolate by a fireplace wrapped in a blanket. You are too marvelous at this!
Ahhh I’m glad you liked it! I have a soft spot for domestic family aus, so ‘Kissing Santa’ was a lot of fun for me! Thank you so much for all the compliments, I’m blushingggggg!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: The Nutcracker was remarkable; phenomenal; splendiferous! I love Christmas so much, and along with it The Nutcracker, especially Tchaikovsky’s musical suites composed for the theatrical/ballet adaptation. I just love how you refer to Hoseok as the Nutcracker, himself, making it all the more romantic and enchanting. I know the Christmas season has passed, but I honestly would celebrate Christmas all year round, just for the feeling and tidings it brings. But, then it would become dismal.. 🤷🏼‍♀️
I love Christmas so much too! Especially the build up to it, it never fails to stir up all these happy and nostalgic feelings for me! And yeah, Tchaikovsky’s music for the ballet is so nice, I like to listen to it when I’m writing! :’) I’m so glad you enjoyed this story!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Ecstasy is For… was brilliant; magnanimous. One in a million. Wh-what? I’m not crying! You’re crying! I should really stop. I’m getting too deep! Lmbo. My emotions are clouding my judgements and now reality is mixing with fantasy! Who is what and what is why?! Just kidding. No, but seriously, your work is truly remarkable. I adore everything I’ve read, even if I wind up crying like a messy toddler. Lol.
asdfghkllll I can’t handle all these compliments, my heart is going to explode!!! :’’’))) Thank you so much!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Uuugggghhhhhh. Lucky Black Cat is so precious and cute and I want cuddles and coffee. Lmfbo. Everything about it was to die for! My poor little heart is putty in your writer’s hands.
‘Lucky Black Cat’ was a lot of fun to write! I love supernatural/ witch aus, and adding a barista au on top of that is just perfect. I’m glad you enjoyed it, that makes me super happy!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: Oh my God. Growing Pains is so fluff and precious and hilarious and I just CAN’T with how fabulous it all is. That freaking ghost. Lmfbo. There’s some show or book where this old ghost haunts a dorm (or was it simply a house? Idk) but he was a funny old guy who liked to tease the couple, but was also a pervert, so he liked “to watch”, but they’d usually catch him and yell at him to get out. I wish I could remember! Lmbo. Anyway, that’s kinda how I picture this guy.
Oh my gosh, that old ghost sounds so funny! I’m laughing at you imagining the ghost in ‘Growing Pains’ that way! I mean, when I was writing it, I was more imaging the ghost as being well meaning, and wanting to get two hapless souls together, but this interpretation is way funnier!!!
@folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog​ said: UUUUGGGHHHHAAAA…! Silence to My Noise. Just. Ugh! So cute. I mean. I can’t. Oh God. My heart! The flutters!
And MY HEART is fluttering from all the love you’ve sent into my inbox! I’m crying from all of your kind messages! I really appreciate all of them! They brightened up my day, and I’m really grateful for the time that you took out of your day to read all those stories, and to tell me what you thought of them! It fills me with joy to know my stories can have these kinds of effects, and it’s inspiring me to write all the more! Thank you so so much! I can’t quite express how happy all of this made me, just know I’m smiling like crazy right now!
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kettlekatdraws · 5 years
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I'm combining two - I found out your secret, and I'm done with you (for the ask my muse post!)
Alright, time for my debut I guess ; ) this is going to take place after Asra resurrects the mc, but before mc wakes up, this is the dawn after the fateful masquerade. This could be considered the prologue to my fic. (Wow this got long)
The sounds of alarms and soldiers keep Julian alert as he strides carefully and quickly in the dark. He can hear the clinking of armor. Too many men to count. Their steps are in unison marching in the through the streets, chasing a singular cause. Finding the count’s murderer. Him apparently. The tall streak of auburn clad in black dashes into the alleyway, mud clinging to his heels. He knows he needs to leave, but he can’t leave things as they were.
He rounds a corner, then another, a path he knows by memory. “Mezalinka is going to kill me when she finds out I left. Better than hanging at least.” She had to make preparations, to get him out of the city. He felt a wave of nauseating guilt, she was always at risk, salty sea dog that she was, but now it was his fault she was at risk. Time and time again he had been told not to risk family for adventure, and now he was risking just about all he had left and more so, just to see the witch he loved again.
A familiar lantern dark, as ever, greeted him. A signal that hadn’t been lit as long as Julian could remember. He wondered if it was ever lit and a sharp pain guided him to other thoughts. To why he came.
Asra. Waves of emotion wash over him as he unlocked the door of this shop for the thousandth time. Each step inside carries with it a memory, a kiss of pain and pleasure. He savors each one feeling himself melt into the past, and allowing himself to hope for more. Asra liked to go on journeys, perhaps he would go on this one with him.
As he reached the top step to an empty living room he turned for Asra’s room. “Napping like usual my dear?” he mumbles to himself, feeling pangs of sorrow at the words my dear a voice in the back of his head told him “not yours, not anymore”. He feels warnings in the back of his mind, warnings of words said that he can’t recall. Warnings that the reason their relationship broke off broke him too, the problem is he can’t quite remember what the reason was. His hand hovers over the handle. I shouldn’t be doing this. To myself or Asra… but I want - no, need to know. He reasons.
Asra was asleep, perhaps mid meditation, his head leaned back against the headrest, and in his lap was a mess of blond curls and satin, there was something painfully familiar about them. Julian tried to make out the stranger’s face through the curls, something about them hurt, he assumed it was the heartbreak of being replaced so quickly?“Oh? Did our years together mean nothing to you?” Julian bit out quietly. It doesn’t escape him how tenderly Asra holds them as if the last thing he wants to do is to leave their side for an instant. Julian wonders what Asra would say to him.
“I told you before, I can’t love you. That’s more the truth now that it was yesterday. You need to leave Ilya, you’re putting us all in danger.”
or maybe he would say
“I told you once, I’ll tell you a thousand times Ilya, you’ve outlived your usefulness. I swear if you take one more step near us with that plague-ridden body of yours I will do what I have to and put you out of your misery.” 
Julian almost wishes he would. Asra had never shown as much care about him as he does this stranger, and Julian and Asra were together for years and it hadn’t even been one since they parted. If he woke them would Asra hate him? The plague he carried? Asra’s lids flutter open, dazed, he focuses on the tall awkward anxious man in the room who looks as if he’s about to bolt.
“Ilya?” The doctor freezes.
“I was just leaving… I have to leave, uh, Vesuvia that is.  I thought to ask if you would come with me, but I imagine that you have other plans.” “Ilya, that can’t happen, and it’s.. It’s dangerous for you to be here. Do you need more help?“The guilt that has been shadowing Julian, hunting him, finally catches up to him, a dagger pricking an already overloaded heart.
  “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted” Julian bites out.“You really don’t, I tried to tell you. I can’t feel for you the way you do me. Especially not now.” Asra mumbles to himself, so quietly only he could have heard it. Julian understands just the same. “I know your secret now, witch. You have no heart”Asra looks stunned for a moment, a genuine break in his careful facade as if to ask who told you? but he recovers and instead doubles down, genuinely frustrated.
“You’re right at least when it comes to you. Go seek your misery somewhere else. I won’t be your absolution. I’m too busy finding my own. I thought it was clear I’m done with you. Now go. I’ll give you one last gift, for old time’s sake. Please, never let me see you in Vesuvia again. Go, live your life. Try to be happy. Attempt to avoid dying.” without me, Asra pleads. He casts a spell on Julian, a simple notice-me-not spell layered with an illusion of a random person. It should get him to Mezalinka’s safely.
“I didn’t ask for a spell. I asked for you” Julian honestly has no idea what he just cast, and considers it witchy nonsense anyways.
“You’re getting the spell, Ilya, now please go.”
Julian clenches his jaw and turns as tears just begin to fall down his face. He ponders getting himself caught, hanging doesn’t seem so bad right now but not one guard seems to notice as he walks in the middle of the street in the morning light, and he’s too overwhelmed to ask why.  Rain drowns his sobbing, absorbing tears as he makes his way down alleys in the light if early morning. He hopes the sky at least feels something for him.
As he reaches Mezalinka’s place he drags himself inside, feeling pangs of guilt for dripping water he has no energy to clean. He opens the hatch in her floor and slips on the first rung, hitting his head, fracturing his ankle and wrist and slicing his palm. He is no sooner assessing the damage to his palm when he watches it close. A faint glowing emitting from his own neck. “what The FUCK!?” Julian backs up in shock and notices his ankle doesn’t hurt.
Is.. is this the spell Asra cast?
Julian feels an immense amount of pain from the back of his head and exhaustion overtakes him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to live now, but he has a feeling he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Like it or not, he’s got to move on and live. A fitting parting gift from a noncommittal witch. 
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