#my life never has a dull moment I FUCKING GUESS

[crucifixcavity]

vent in tags

#🍎diary #for backstory my brother had suddenly blocked me on everything last year after I told him about the abuse our dad put us through #any way he finally saw my messages and got back to me. #months of wondering how he is and if he’s okay and the first thing he tells me #is that he cant I’m decide if I’m a liar or not #WHAT THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO GAIN FROM LYING ABOUT RAPE #even I can recognize that I truly don’t deserve this kind of treatment #I wish it was all a lie I wish our father didn’t rape and molest me multiple times as a child. like I’m sorry #he’s back to not speaking to me but the most insulting thing is him thinking #that I would lie to him about something like this?? #we have always been so close. he knows me. he knows I’m not someone to do that. #my life never has a dull moment I FUCKING GUESS #if anything I’m at least relieved he never had the same experiences with our father. #my brother may hate my guts for this but I am so happy he won’t ever understand this pain #but to be honest it would have been easier for him to tell me to kill myself than calling me a fucking liar

[teaboot]

I spent a lot of time alone outdoors growing up.

A lot of time.

It got to the point that some days I'd be sitting in the back of my dull beige classroom, and on the outside I'd be staring out into nothing but on the inside I'd be remembering how it felt being barefoot and knee-deep in sun-warmed mud, cutting my palms and soles to bits against craggy rock, leaning into the wind and screaming into the ocean, sprinting through the woods and standing dead silent in the dark in a wheat field in a thunderstorm, and feeling grit under my nails and bone and wood and rock and metal in my hands

And I'd look around at my stupid, flimsy pressboard desk, and the beige walls, and the grey ceiling, and feel soft, stagnant air circulate through the vents in delicate, dainty little puffs against my cheeks, and listen to kids my age who I couldn't understand and didn't feel connected to talk about things that made my brain go numb and melt out my ears while some fake-smiley adult pretended they knew how I felt

While back home where my siblings didnt know me and my parents didn't like me the house would be dark, empty, and cold, day after day, and the only satisfaction I knew I'd get would be if someone twice my size and three times my age got in my face and fucking tried it,

And I'd think,

This isn't real.

This is designed, and this is weak.

This is cardboard façades with nothing inside, this is tissue paper, this is Styrofoam packing peanuts and puffed rice wafers and the bottom three millimeters of day-old room-temperature water

And I'd get so fucking angry, so frustrated, just so stone-cold livid, helpless and furious, that sometimes I'd start to cry, not because I was sad but because my teeth were soft and round and dull and my fingers felt like they were brand-new pink pearl erasers splitting in half and everything was too much and not enough and all I needed in the whole wild world was to shred the air to pieces for the crime of being too fucking empty, too fucking soft, not *real* enough, like a wild animal clawing into prey only to have puffy cotton candy and soap bubbles spill out, sweet and tasteless and saccharine where it should be hot, bright, loud and solid and sharp.

So when the English teacher- a tall, thin man with glasses who smelled like strong patchouli and liked to ask us to "talk about our feelings" asked me to write about my life, that was what I wrote.

He told me I had a "powerful gift" and smiled, flashing straight, dull, soft round teeth.

I remember he'd ask me every day if he could read my work aloud to the class, every single day, and every day I would say "no", until one afternoon he just took my paper off my desk and did it anyways.

I was a rule-follower. Never broke the rules, never stepped out of line. I would never just leave class in the middle of a lesson, so I guess for a moment I was someone else.

I don't remember hearing him start to speak, but I remember sprinting out the door, hearing it slam behind me, and just not stopping until I was somewhere outside with the grass and the sky and the sun and a ringing inside my head.

After a while, I went back, and by then I guess he'd finished talking.

I sat down at my desk and finished the lesson.

I thought I'd be in trouble or something after that, but nobody mentioned it.

After the bell, I went home to the dark, cold, empty house and waited for something to fight.

That was years ago. Decades, now.

To tell you the truth, though, I don't think anything has changed.

#Writing #Long post #Lol #Sensory issues and social issues and isolation and fear #And anger and joy and the loneliness of not understanding #Probably just anxious understimulated and a lil bit feral #What can ya do #Shrug #Old memories

[marvelousbelladonna]

I will never be over this moment

Red: Laudna

Purple: Imogen

This is not how I imagined reuniting would go.

I’m sorry for my outburst.

I’m sorry y’all went through so much.

It’s not… it’s not directed at you or anyone else, I hope you know that.

I-I-I do

Just the circumstances, that’s what’s frustrating.

It is weird, Laudna. I can’t hear your thoughts.

Even now?

Yea

Cause of the circlet… that’s great that’s

It’s great, but it’s also strange. It’s very strange.

Does it make crowded environments easier?

So much better

That’s wonderful. You don’t have to listen in to get my thoughts. I’ll always share them willingly. Just ask

Can I kiss you? I can’t tell if it’s alright or not anymore.

Alright… alright

Alright, so I will. I do, I do.

*kiss

I… You don’t have to… I just

Obviously I care for you, an immense deal

I know

I don’t… I don’t know if you realize how much of an anchor you are for me. And when you weren’t, when you weren’t there I was adrift. And Imogen, you make me better and when you weren’t there I did horrible things. I’m afraid I’m… I’m a bad person. Imogen

You’re not a bad person, you’re not a bad person.

*kiss

I’ve heard everything inside of you Laudna, you are not a bad person. I called you my anchor, my tether. We’re that for each other. Whatever you did, you can tell me.

When Bor’Dor betrayed us, it was just it was the last. I was so strained and stressed and at the end of my rope. And literally hanging on my a thread. And he was just, I couldn’t deal with one more person betraying us. We put our trust in him and Deni$e and Prism. Just as you all did with Deanna and F. R. I. D. A. and just like Yu and some many other people who’ve betrayed us in the past. It broke me and I couldn’t let him live.

Had he attacked you?

Yes, this was after he ummh revealed that he was with the Ruby Vanguard and he unleashed this acid sphere, this vitriolic sphere upon all of us and watched several people go down. And I lost control and… I lost control. And I haven’t asked but I think she’s back. I think she’s back. And I- I’ve just been so guilty because of what all of you all went through to defeat her and-and just in that moment I went- I was another person and I sucked the life force out of him and I- I’ve- I felt it. I felt that dull, deep beating heart, that wasn’t mine, return and I haven’t felt it in months. And I’m so sorry, it’s- it feels like just such- such a betrayal to everything you all went though.

You don’t need to apologize. He attacked you, first of all, fuck him. And whatever happened with her, we’ll make it right again. We’ll make it right again, alright.

Can I be honest with you?

Always

There’s part of me that thinks maybe we shouldn’t. We’re about to face the grandest challenges of our lives.

You wanna use her? Make yourself strong?

*laudna has a hard time even admiring it out loud

I get it. Look at the fucking moon in the sky. I don’t know if I wanna get rid of it. Power’s very tempting and I won’t judge you either way.

Maybe we can, maybe it’s our destiny to harness it.

Maybe it’s our destiny to fight it

I guess time will tell

Together, either way

You’re very capable

#critical role #cr spoilers #campaign 3 #c3e65 #marisha ray #laura bailey #laudna #imogen #imogen temult #pastel goth #southern gothic #laudna x imogen #imodna

[rinskazuu]

always imagining enemies to lovers with childe.

imagine both of you being harbingers, and you rank higher than him, cus he fucking sucks /j. anywho, he literally loves picking on you, because you get irritated easily. in return, you always beat his ass, but he really likes it, cus idk, he’s a pain whore.

back on topic.. when i say enemies to lovers, i truly mean enemies. you guys are literally sabotaging each other left and right, staying up all night planning out how to get each other killed. the moments you’re not thinking about how to kill one another, are very scarce and are rare moments.

now, the fatui decides to hold a ball, for whatever reason. that’s up to your imagination, but i’d say for malicious purposes; like seeking a target out. like i said, it’s up to your imagination. you’re dressed in your sexiest dress/suit/whatever formal attire you wanna wear.

you guys may have a little too much to drink. and oh no!!!! you end up sleeping with each other. i guess, all that planning, trying to sabotage and murder each other made you really fucking obsessed.

btw, it was brutal sex, like hate banging, so much degrading, choking, and you get the point.

the next morning, you’re absolutely regretting everything. tartar, on the other hand, is like “i knew you were into me, you just needed a little push,” and some other bullshit. now, you’re fucking pissed. but you can’t deny that there’s a new profound tension between you two.

it’s less sabotaging, and more ogling. during meetings, he’s like secretly, not so secretly, brushing his hand against your back or thigh. idk if he could brush your thigh tho, cus they seem to have meetings standing up. and if you ask me, that’s kinda weird, but that’s just me. YOU GET THE POINT.

every time you spar, he can’t help but give you a small smile, and you have to force yourself to look away. you do not want to fall in love with this man, he’s terrible, unhinged, blood thirsty. he’s not gonna ever focus on you, when all he wants is world dominance. and he can’t get that, cus you beat his ass up every time.

point is, you cannot risk loving a man who’ll never prioritize you. that’s what you believe anyway.

he falls first, and he realizes it. surprising both of you, he makes a choice to send you flowers. the next time you see him, you scold him, and tell him to not pull shit like that. he’s confused, because to him, you did seem interested. you remind him that “just because we slept once, doesn’t mean i’m into you like that.”

but, our boy childe, doesn’t give up. (that was corny, i’ll never say it again. i sincerely apologize). he chases after you, because he’s really got nothing better to do with his life. you’re literally his new obsession.

so one day, he’s had enough, and he decides to ask you. “you can’t tell me you’re not the least bit interested in me, when you have to force yourself to look away, or when your cheeks warm up after my touch. i won’t believe you, so riddle me this, why are you lying to me?”

for once, in all the years you’ve known him, you can catch the small glimmer that appears in his usually dead, blue eyes. and you can tell, he is genuinely sad.

“i can’t be in a relationship with someone, where i’ll always be second choice.” this oddly confuses him, because, he himself, doesn’t know who’s first.

“huh?” he has this really adorable puppy face displayed, and is extremely confused.

“you idiot. i admire your spirit for always wanting to fight, but i’m unwilling to love you, if you won’t come home to me one day,” your eyes darted to the ground, and hands fiddling with one another.

“so that’s what this was about. are you doubting my strength?”

“yes, i am. you lost to the traveler, who held only a dull blade. isn’t that quite embarrassing?” of course, you were only half joking. he looks at you sheepishly before pulling you into a hug.

“i’ll always come back to you, i promise.”

I ALWAYS MAKE THESE LONGER THAN INTENDED.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader

[rookfeatherrambles]

I guess this is what I do now. Another fic snippet upon you (Jonelias this time)

It's called The Red string of fate (can go fuck itself)

Tldr: this is a fic where an organization and an algorithm basically determines who you are partnered to based on genetics and traits. Jon is ace and identifies as a man, and has been fighting the system, requesting an exception to the pairing program, though it's the law for every afab person to have at least one child, he wants zero. Zip. Nada. And on the day he goes in for the 5th time to ask for an exception, he learns he's been matched and is no longer eligible. His new 'destiny' is someone named Elias Bouchard. (Elias isn't evil and this isn't an abusive dynamic in this fic, pointing that out in advance) ANYWAY HAVE JON AND HIS FRIENDS COMMISERATING WITH HIM OVER COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF ALCOHOL.

"This is such bullshit!" Melanie King slammed her hand down onto the bar table suddenly, and Jon jumped. She immediately pulled it back. "I'm sorry, Jon, but it is!"

"I agree with Mel," Jon's other friend, Tim Stoker said severely. He swirled his drink in his glass before frowning and looking at Jon. "You've been in there four times already, and it's only now they've decided to pair you off? Something's fishy." Beside him, a pretty woman with a mess of curly dark hair was staring intently at her phone. After a moment, she huffed.

"I can't find anything on 'Elias Bouchard' on Yowler or Unlinked. The man is a ghost."

Sasha James, Jon's third friend and partner of Tim's, sighed and set her phone down on the table before picking up her glass. "That's not a good sign."

Jon groaned.

Tim tapped at his glass thoughtfully. "Maybe he's just not big on social media?"

Jon groaned louder, dropping his head into his arms. "Or he's a serial killer." Melanie offered, unhelpfully.

"Or that," Tim conceded. "You okay, Jon? You're melting off the table."

Jon lifted his head a little, eyes dull. "It doesn't matter what he's like," he said hopelessly. "I don't want this. I never have."

Melanie’s expression softened, and she reached over and patted Jon's back. "We know, man. We know. We're here for you."

Sasha slid over an unopened bottle of stout. "Here. Or you can get something stronger, it's on me and Tim."

Melanie sat up, picked up her drink and cocked her head. "I never got how you two just happened to match together. Tim, you're gorgeous but you’re a different, opposing alignment then Sasha. How’d this happen? Spill.”

Sasha and Tim exchanged mischievous looks. “We rigged the system,” Tim said abruptly.

“You what? How?” Melanie leaned forwards, eyeing the pair of them with disbelief and incredulity. “There’s no way. Tell me everything.”

Sasha grinned widely. “Well, me and Tim were friends for ages… and we decided a long time ago that we didn’t want to be split up if the system matched us to other partners. So…” She paused for dramatic effect. “I hacked the system!”

Tim devolved into snorting laughter, but Melanie swore. “Get the fuck out. There’s no way! It's not possible.”

“Yeah,” Tim said eventually, coming up from his giggles. “We paid someone on the inside to fudge the paperwork. God, Mel, you’re hilarious. Never change.”

Despite Jon’s atrocious start to the day, his evening was relatively pleasant, spent around friends who cared for him and wanted to see him happy.

“They’re going to send me the whole package,” he moaned, after his n’th drink. “It's going to have his photo, and all of his information. Do they realize how incredibly unnatural this all is? My apparent life partner, matched to me by an algorithm?”

“And genetics,” Tim added, swirling the beer in his glass. “Don’t forget that the whole reason for it all is to produce healthy offspring. In an age of birth decline,” He changed his voice, mimicking one of the LION’s top representatives. Everyone at the table had seen the video and the air was filled with groans, but Tim kept going. “We must all do our part to ensure our unique traits survive the test of time. That’s why -”

“Don’t say it,” Jon moaned, head thunking down on the table. He was well and truly inebriated, but it wasn’t enough. “Don’t even say it.” He pushed his half full beer away from him, no longer interested in it.

“It is fucked up,” Melanie agree, helping herself to Jon’s abandoned drink. “If you think about it, really think about it, this is a dystopia. Like, seriously. We’re living in a society.”

Sasha made a face, then leaned her head over onto Tim’s shoulder. “Mel, I love you, but I’m way too drunk to talk politics right now.”

The rest of the evening was a smeary, drunken blur for Jon. He woke up the next day in his bed with a terrible hangover and a feeling of dread settled deep in his gut.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #tma #jonelias #eugenics #i just am nibbling at all my different AU's so expect a lot of random bullshit over the next week or so. #i have no schedule or rhyme to this madness #i'm simply creating #red string au #rook writes

[lostheretics]

PLOT TWIST (5)

▸ chapter 5: the rise of the new boss

pt. 1 || pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

✵ cast : jung wooyoung x fem!reader, kim hongjoong, lee juyeon, kim younghoon, ateez, mentioned oc and many kpop artists name or group

✵ genre : romance, marriage life, eventual angst, smut, mafia!au, non idol!au

✵ summary : there was a saying that learning is a lifelong process. what will you learn about the underworld, the first time you stepped into it? you might have what they call a beginner’s luck, but will that be enough for the things you’ll be facing soon?

✵ notes : stopped counting on how many words but i try to make it lengthy as possible. thanks for waiting, to those whoever awaits i guess. i was thinking of making a taglist for this fic. taglist will be used for updates; ANY updates regarding PT. just drop ur @ in my askbox. also, PLS REBLOG.

WARNINGS BELOW CUT

☒ warnings: none for now but do remind me if there’s one. a lil bit of discrimination from wooyoung but not in a bad way (kinda, but not that bad)

☒ i do not condone mafia acts nor any acts that goes against the law at all. everything mentioned are just purely fiction, made to entertain myself and fellow readers in this particular platforms.

☒ do not repost this on any other platform without my permission!

✓ reblogging, liking, and commenting this post in tumblr (through comment or askbox) are very much appreciated.

you believe in destiny, fate, universe, whatever they’re called. you put your whole faith in it. you trusted them and their work, putting one and one together to make to or even ten. after all, it's also the one reason you and wooyoung beat all odds and be together.

but not to this extent. you refused to believe it.

to believe the pair of arms that caught you just days before became the arms that lead you in a dance session. to believe the same pair of brown eyes to look at you once more. to believe that the stranger who helped you when you almost faint, in work, embarrassingly, is to be the one you work with. your new goal.

cue the famous line from that one song, what kind of fuckery is this?

“you seemed so quiet for someone who’s looking for an ally.”

uhm, because i’m fucking flabbergasted? too stunned to speak?

“i hope you don’t plan on running away, again.” he added, “i just wanna get to know you.”

you laughed nervously, “of course not, sir- uh, mr. kim,” you stuttered, “i don’t know how to properly address you.”

he twirled you before catching you in his arms again. “mr. kim would suffice for now. though i hope we’ll get close enough in the future to be on first name basis.” younghoon said. “and how should i address you? miss y/n? mrs. jung?”

“anything’s fine mr. kim.”

the dance continued.

it was a moment where you could finally savor, or, to put it less romantically and more professionally, it was a moment where you could finally take a good look on the man.

kim younghoon's name has been there for some time, but little was known about his private life. typical of the seoul kims. his business life, however, is the talk of the town.

he never failed in pursuing his business endeavors, alongside his brother. not a single dirt on his name was found despite him still being young in the field. the kim brothers; kim younghoon himself and his younger brother kim seokhun were every parents dream on a child, especially one with a family business.

his soft brown eyes were ones you'll never forget. they were so soft, unlike the ones you saw all your life; dull, full of hatred, and all that bad stuff. and the way his eyes smiled along when he smiled... you thought, a man this soft and pure-looking shouldn't be working in this part of the world.

"juyeon sent you to work with me, but i know he wanted more than just that." younghoon muttered. his hard gaze was evident despite him not looking at you, opting to scan the room.

"he wanted something regarding my family."

"mr. lee sent me to work with you, yes. we're grateful that he even mentioned our name and recommending us to you. however, he did so because he believed my group's main business is in the same field as yours, and that it'll make more sense." you said, ever so carefully while studying his face. you took a bold move, putting your body closer to his while strengthening your hold on his shoulder.

"but, regardless of that, i would truly like to work with you, mr. kim. my group wishes to. i'd like to try it with you, and i hope you can make good use of ateez in the future, as well as lending a hand for us to step further, higher, and better in the business." you declared. "i'm not blind. i know what's happening between your family and the lees, and i don't have a say in it at all. but i would like for you to consider work between ateez and the kims, unrelated to any of the lees." you reassured.

and lastly, for the cherry on top, you stared straight on his eyes, pleading.

"give us the chance to prove ourself, mr. kim."

younghoon just stared at you, while his brain processed everything you just said. you were right, the kims main business in the medicine field were compatible with kang industries that yeosang ran with his sister. that alone could be a reason for the both of you to actually talk business with each other.

he was a businessman after all, any chance is worth something if you pursue it first.

the music stopped, meaning the dance session ended. clapping sounds were heard all over the hall. you took your hands off of younghoon's, bowing at the said man.

you thought it just ended like that, but it took you by surprise when younghoon took your hand in his, raising your knuckles to his lips before landing a gentlemanly kiss ok the back of your hand. his eyes never left you when he sent you a soft smile.

"i'll have my secretary invite ateez for a business talk. as soon as the gala ends" he stated, before continuing, "it was a nice dance, mrs. jung."

"party's done. everyone retreating in ten."

wooyoung chugged down his champagne while scanning around the room, giving nods to every member in his sight as a sign. he greeted the rest of his acquaintance, before leaving the scene.

just as he was about to exit the hall, a hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him in his track. a once scowl on his face turned into a friendly smile when he turned around and was greeted by seo changbin.

"my man, binnie!" he gave the buff man a hug, not to mention a tap on his back. "what's up?"

"not much. are you guys leaving already?" he asked while looking around, noting some ateez members already heading out of the hall. he clicked his tongue in an unapproved manner. "it's still early, though. how am i gonna catch up with my best friend?" he lightly pouted.

"the only thing you'll catch is these hands if you ever do that thing again." wooyoung jested, and changbin only laughed.

once the laugh died down, he took a step closer to wooyoung, lowering his voice as he watched around.

"got some words from chan. mind sparing me some time?"

wooyoung lifted his wrist to watch the time. he still got eight minutes left. he nodded at changbin before leading the man away from the crowd, opting for a quieter side of the hall just by its door.

"what's up? business doing okay?" he asked.

changbin only shrugged, "it's fine. work here and there, cusses, blood, what's new?" then he raised his hand to rest on wooyoung's shoulder. "congrats to ateez, by the way." he complimented.

he then stated, "it's the talk of the town right now, you know? the fact that ateez, a gang took down a royal family, by a new member no less. i'm talking about your wife, mrs. jung y/n." changbin chuckled lightly when he saw a change in wooyoung's expression, a cocky smirk along with a subtle red tint on his cheeks. a sense of pride rose within wooyoung.

"a good catch they say."

wooyoung almost giggled. "damn right. thanks for the words though,"

done with the chitchat, changbin cleared his throat as he turned to wooyoung.

"chan said he met your wife at some casual networking party just a couple months ago, hongjoong did the introduction. safe to say he was intrigued." wooyoung turned his head to changbin upon his choice of words.

lifting a brow, he chuckled. "same thing happened to me before i married her."

changbin clicked his tongue, "not in that way, of course." he objected, slightly cringing over the thoughts of his boss creating a drama worthy act like that. "you know chan, you've heard about it, right? that he rarely missed when it comes to judging someone, especially the businessmen or women."

"i've heard some of it. and what about it?"

"the other day he sort of said something about y/n and talents, that she could be a big thing soon. and surprise, surprise, not long after that the news came like a fucking thunder, a shock to everyone and especially chan. ateez was about to lose but she just casually lifted you up and took down the whole family."

checking at his watch, he quickly pointed out. "so, what does he want exactly?"

"chan's got an info. an inside job. new weapon supplies and exchanges, i'm talking new types and big money. the job's too big to take for us alone and he already thought of making a collaboration between our team since ateez got a good capo, and you got mingi and yunho on weaponries. your reputations preceded you," he exhaled, before continuing. "but ever since he met y/n and heard of the news, he wanted to go even further. chan wants y/n in the job. with your captain's permission, of course, but he wants her to directly sit on the table where he and hongjoong will be. chan wanted me to tell you that, and he hopes to hear good answers from hongjoong."

by the time changbin was done with his explanations, wooyoung was already stunned. he was taken aback at the fact that you rose so quick to be able to catch other's attention. he was slightly agape, eyes widened. to be able to stand beside hongjoong, to sit right next to him is to be next to the captain by rank. though unofficial, the conversation itself could be a proof that you're an equal to seonghwa and yeosang.

you had him floored, truly.

"could you please try to put some words to hongjoong? chan really wants this." changbin's plead broke wooyoung's train of thoughts.

he nodded lightly. "i'll see what i can do," he promised the man.

he lifted his wrist once more. seeing the time had passed, he took a step back. "i have to go now. i'll let you know of the outcome soon."

"wait!" changbin almost yelled, stopping wooyoung on his track.

"what?" he asked. changbin hurriedly walk to wooyoung as his hands dug around his suit pocket. upon finding the item, he quickly put the piece of paper in wooyoung's pocket.

"i almost forgot." changbin moved closer towards wooyoung and whispered, "come to the show. capos business. yeonjun found a new spot, some rough diamonds ready to be trained if you're recruiting new members."

he stepped back, tapping on wooyoung's pocket before retreating.

"thank me later."

“they’re leaving the premises, sir.”


the minion retreated, leaving juyeon and his champagne on the balcony. his eyes watched as a couple of cars left his mansion, particularly the last car that carried you and your husband.

it was something that he used to love to do with his father; watching people come and go. the only difference were his father is no longer around, and that it has become his job.

upon watching the way you sway in the dress he gave, hand in hand with your husband as you got in the car, he gripped on his glass harder as he tried to breathe, not even realizing he was holding his breath the entire time. there was this uneasiness, a storm brewing in the pit of his stomach. he didn’t believe in anything unworldly or superstitious, but he believed in himself. of what he sees, what he feels, what he understands.

it didn’t take long for him to saw power in ateez.

one that could endanger his, though he didn’t know the source nor the reason for it. for that, he’ll have to dig deeper.

“something’s coming.” he murmured, enough to be heard by another party standing behind him. he whispered again, “i can feel it in my bones.”

park jipsa, the one who stood behind him sighed, “are you afraid?”

“never.”

“then you’ll know what to do.”

if there ever was something brighter than the sun, it must’ve been hongjoong’s grin, pulled all the way back showing his pearly smiles you thought his skin would soon tear apart.

the man was practically beaming.

and you silently took pride in being one of the reason so.

“business looking good.”

“damn right it is.”

it was just you, hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang in the room. breakfast was done and group meeting ended, yet the ambitious man kept you around to discuss everything further. there were papers scattered, calls made, and coffees on the table.

“i’ve checked around,” yeosang chipped in, while rearranging the documents discussed for the meeting, “if we’re actually working with the kims, emphasize on if, if everything works, we’ll have easier access to some of our stuff, both importing and exporting. the drug development is looking good right now, and we’ll have much exposure with their help. we’re gonna make more money soon.”

“that sounds good, yeosang. great, actually.” hongjoong beamed, smiling at yeosang. the man stood near his desk, phone still in his hand, just finishing a deal went well.

seonghwa chuckled, “you feel good?”

“fuck yeah, hwa. yeah i feel good.” he almost screamed. “of course i feel good, everything’s looking good like this. and if it actually works i might do a somersault myself.”

“you look like you’re gonna do that now.”

you laughed along with the guys.

after pacing back and forth, energetically, and with happy thoughts one would assume the mafia leader might be a child trapped in a man’s body, hongjoong finally sat down. he tapped his fingers on the table, before finally making up his mind, pointing at each party around him.

“okay, here’s what. we have so much in our hands right now, but i’d like for everything to work out and i put my trust in you guys,” hongjoong stared at each of you, “i’m all in for you.”

he pointed at seonghwa. “i’m sending seonghwa to japan to settle down. you’ll be our representation there hwa, until i finish things in here. the most important thing is to make a powerful link to that family.” he said, moving to yeosang as soon as seonghwa nodded his head.

“yeosang, as usual with kang industries, but i want you to bring y/n around as a representative too. she’s gonna be the link between us to the kims and drug business, so it’s good for the both of you.”

you and yeosang couldn’t help but to stole glances, surprised by the mission but acknowledging each other still.

hongjoong raised his phone, tapping it several times before speaking again, “wooyoung got words from chan last night, and chan just made a call this morning. he wants a collaboration between our group for a job. there are new weapons coming in, big job. chan’s got his hand on it but figured it’d be too big to handle alone, but dangerous if handled by too many. so we’re in, and i’m also taking y/n in this, per chan’s request.”

he turned to you. “you’re gonna have so much in your hands this time, you know this right?”

you nodded.

“but with stray kids, you’ll just be a spectator on the table. i’ll handle the big game with chan. i want you to focus more on the kims and kang industries. your main job right now is the kims. do you understand?”

“yes.”

“good.”

birds fly fast.

but the rumors flew faster in this house.

it didn’t take long for everyone in this house to find out about you. and your new… job. or perhaps rank. a housewife turned… consigliere? underboss? hongjoong hasn’t give you an official rank within the group yet. however it didn’t take a genius to see how high up your position were.

you’re working straight with yeosang, second in command in ateez next to seonghwa, ateez’s face and representative in the outside world. your job was as important as seonghwa’s, hongjoong’s righthand man, the underboss of ateez. each of every job you’ve done you’d report back straight to hongjoong, and hongjoong took you almost everywhere he goes.

on top of that, you’ve been giving counsels to hongjoong even before you had your debut in the underworld.

you’re as good as a consigliere, just not officially, yet.

there was contentment, of course, yet it also comes with burdens. one that you fear you wouldn’t be able to bear. but you will do your best, for your family. for wooyoung. to make him proud.

and he couldn’t be more proud of you.

wherever ateez goes, wherever he goes, he wouldn’t stop gushing about you every time someone brought your name up. lowkey, of course. just to make sure everyone knows you’re his wife. that you’re great, yes, but you’re definitely off limits.

exactly like tonight.

he eyed the piece of paper in his hand, before eyeing the traditional restaurant in front of him. it was a small, dimly-lit building. an old woman walked around, delivering orders though not much, as they didn’t have much customers for the night.

he fished out his phone out from his pocket, typing a name before pressing the call button.

“hello?” changbin’s voice rang through his speaker.

“i’m outside. are you sure this is the place?” wooyoung asked, throwing glances with yunho, jongho, and san behind him.

“it’s a small restaurant, right? did you see the old lady?”

“yeah? and?”

changbin chuckled, “just get in. take a seat, and when she asked for your order, just ask her if mr. kim’s soju is on the menu today. come fast, the match’s about to start.” and with that, changbin hanged up.

putting his phone back on his pocket, he whisked his head, signaling the boys to enter the place with him. they took a table, and before long, the old lady came to their table, asking for their orders. wooyoung looked around, making sure no one’s hearing them, before getting closer to the lady.

“is mr. kim’s soju on the menu today?”

the old lady just smiled and nodded. “it’s stored just right there. come along and pick for yourself, young man.”

that’s how they got into the hidden basement deep under the ground, by an elevator just behind the fridge in the kitchen.

when the elevator stopped, changbin was standing in the hallway. he greeted them with a smile, shaking wooyoung’s hand firmly.

“cool place, right?” he quipped, then shook hands with jongho, yunho, and san.

changbin led them further into the basement. even from the hallway, rough noises were already heard, and it got louder as they got closer.

illegal fights weren’t a secret anymore. but as they got deeper, more secluded, the more blood got spilled, the more animalistic the fighters get, the bigger the prize. this is where the mafias recruit new members, new associates.

the rings were surrounded by rough looking men, some older, some younger. the fighter on the ring looked all bloody and bruised, but still standing on their feet fighting for their life. hollers here and there, nothing new.

they all took a table not far from the ring. yeonjun and beomgyu were seen, along with jisung and jeongin. they greeted each other.

“the consigliere’s husband!” yeonjun quipped with a playful tap on wooyoung’s back. wooyoung chuckled. with pride, of course.

“so what’s the hype?” wooyoung asked, half yelling to catch yeonjun’s attention. the lad pointed his finger to each rings, getting himself close to wooyoung and the others.

“gems. lots of them,” he yelled, pointing at one of the ring, “see that guy over there?” he asked, pointing at a tall man, not buff, but muscular and calculative enough to look not so affected while his opponent looked like he’s about to faint.

yeonjun spoke again, “he’s an ex NIS agent. i think he got ousted, betrayed, whatever. and that’s just one of the few. there are other fighters, former gang members, ex police, ex NIS, ex professionals— whatever we’re looking for. so take a pick!” he said, before continuing.

“but be careful, they also might be onto something if they go this deep. either all in or all out.”

the pungent smell of blood was nothing new, combined with the smell of sweat of all people, burnt cigarettes, liquors of all kinds. in fact, none of them seemed to be distracted by any of the smell, the sound, or even the people who were drunk off their minds falling around them.

their eyes, especially wooyoung’s were focused on each ring or around the room, scanning all within the room trying to find new recruits or maybe new connections.

a bell was heard, a ring near them just announced a winner before quickly moving on. a pair of new fighters stepped onto the ring, one of them a rough looking men, presumably already fought a fight before this one, and his opponent…

…a woman?

her hair was tied up, cuts and bruises here and there but not enough to disguise her beauty. physically she’s far smaller than the man, less muscular, yet she hold no fear in her eyes.

“what’s a pretty girl doing in this hellhole?” wooyoung murmured,

right before the girl ducked down and punched his opponent right on his chest, hard enough to make him cut his breath. then landed a punch to his right cheek, followed by his left cheek. and a final kick to his head, quickly sending the man to his sleep, hopefully not an eternal one.

and that’s how she won the game.

not to mention leaving wooyoung speechless. that was a quick game. and she looked like a gem. a fighter like that would make jobs easier, faster, and more efficient.

he was deep in his thoughts, until san nudged him, “are you seeing what i’m seeing?”

wooyoung looked back at san, observing his line of sight, only to bring his eyes back to the said woman.

a gem in sight indeed.

“her?”

“yes, her. we need her. i want her. we gotta take her.” he mouthed. he then pulled wooyoung by the shoulder, and proceeded to stare into wooyoung’s eyes with the most serious look he could muster. “seriously wooyoung, i can’t handle this charmer—grifter shit alone anymore. we need a charmer. and i mean it.”

“san, we’re on budget and we’re here to look for a bodyguard—“ he was about to state but san had cut him off.

“did you not see the way she threw that punches? she can be a bodyguard. she is muscle.”

“yes, but—“ wooyoung hesitated, “i don’t know man, a lady bodyguard?”

san gasped. “that’s discrimination, what the fuck?”

“not in that way!” wooyoung bit back, “i don’t know man, i’m just not sure. she’s all great, it’s just—”

“but what?” san pressed.

san wasn’t wrong, they do need a charmer. san was the only charmer ateez had— they do have others, just not as good as san, hence the lad had to do most jobs by himself. the last time they had a good charmer other than san, but they got killed in action.

being a grifter, a charmer, he did get to know most thing and even on the deeper part of the underworld. any place he want, anyone, he could get through anything, most of the times. but ultimately, he was fed up. doing what he did best alone might finally took a toll on him.

so with the hard look, now turned puppy eyes, there was no way wooyoung could say no to san, the charmer himself.

he sighed. “you know what? fuck that. go and get her if you want.”

there were probably fireworks bursting behind san’s eyes, that’s the only logical reason (though far from logic itself) for the sparkle in his eyes. choi san quickly bolted away from the table, adamant on getting and recruiting the woman.

wooyoung, with yunho and jongho on the other hand sticked to the main plan; find new muscles to recruit. yeonjun, changbin and their own gang were soon scattered around the basement with their own mission to accomplish. jongho was still looking around, and yunho was still seen talking to the possible recruits.

wooyoung was just talking to one of the possible recruit, giving them his business card when san pulled him away to a corner. he kept guiding on wooyoung with this grin on his face, pushing him around until wooyoung finally faced the lady they’ve been talking about.

“so this is wooyoung,” san made the intro, “he’s our trainer, supervisor, and not to mention my best friend. and we—” he stepped back behind wooyoung, “—are interested in taking you in with us.”

taking a good look in the closer distance, she looked even better. her skin looked soft, save some scratches and scars here and there, but they were mostly healed leaving just a white mark. her eyes were brown, and like when she was on the ring, had this striking look.

this one’s definitely a charmer. she just needs to be guided, and they got a perfect teacher for her. stretching his hand out, wooyoung offered her a formal handshake.

“wooyoung.”

she watched his stretched hand for a while. the unsure glint in her eyes started to flicker along the time, and she finally took wooyoung’s hand.

“son jiwoo.”

the tall, black door seemed so big and scary.

despite it being just a plain door to a restaurant.

you might think it’s the door, but a part of you knew more than that. that wasn’t just a door you had to pass, a restaurant you must enter.

kim younghoon was waiting somewhere in that restaurant for you. this was going to be your first meeting with younghoon, and you gotta make sure it’s going well. this is your first big mission, as a member of ateez.

you straighten your floral dress, fixing any possible crease before stepping inside. a waiter came to your aid, giving their best smile, “may i help you?”

you smiled back. “i have a reservation, with mr. kim younghoon. is he here?”

the waiter smiled even wider, “ah, madam! yes, mr. kim has been waiting for you. let me take your jacket.” they spoke, as they pulled your jacket off of you. “if you please follow me, madam.”

the waiter guided you to a table near the glass window, where you found younghoon sitting in a formal, yet casual look. the white fitted top and light brown pants. upon the announcement of your arrival, kim younghoon turned his head, offering you a smile so bright. the gentlemen even stood up, pulling your seat for you instead of letting the waiter do that for you.

“you look nice.” he complimented.

“and you more. i thought the suits were your best look, but these? gorgeous.”

he chuckled, “trying to charm me straight away, i see.”

“yes, but some truth can’t be hidden for too long. i also have to charm my future colleague for a chance, right?” you quipped back, earning a soft laugh from younghoon.

“you’re straightforward. i like it, it’s also the way that i am and used to.” he said. he laid back to his chair, looking at you before asking, “a straightforward man gotta speak his mind, am i right?”

“yes they do, i suppose.”

he took your answer in silence. he looked out through the window, watching the bright afternoon sky and people on the street,, seemingly deep in thoughts. gone were the light atmosphere when you got there.

then younghoon spoke one sentence and a question. the easiest way to phrase and conclude your whole mission.

“i know juyeon sent you to fix things between our families. correct?”

upon the sudden intrusion, your body froze for a second. your lips almost quivered, letting out broken words, having nothing to come up with. kim younghoon fired a bullet and it hit right on the bullseye. and he didn’t even mention anything about anything work related, despite that being one of your most important reason to pursue him.

younghoon’s eyes were back on you, and you had no choice but to spit the truth out.

“yes, you’re right, mr. kim,” you sighed, but not yet defeated. “and i’m aware of… the gap between your families, that it’s not in a good condition.”

“how much did you know?”

“that your family was a supporter to lee jiyoung back when the war was happening.” you stated.

he clicked his tongue, “i wish it was as easy as that, mrs. jung.” he sighed as he leaned back onto his chair.

“i wish to help in many ways, mr. kim. in this way, because juyeon sent me for this reason. but other than that, a work with your family is what my family aim for. a personal gain. both, or one of them is enough for me and i’m willing to do the job.” you told him, straightforwardly. “is there something i can do to fix this?”

“to fix the gap between the lees and kims? i don’t know, mrs. jung. i’m not sure if there’s a way at all,” he shrugged.

but he quickly added in, “but, regarding ateez and my family, i think we both have a chance for that. i’ve spoken with my father, and maybe, just maybe, if this works, we’ll consider juyeon’s purpose of… mending the two families. now the question remain; would you take the job, and could you do it well?”

“i’m willing to try and do my best for anything.”

“anything?”

“anything.”

the man smiled, grinning almost. “then it starts now.” he said. younghoon raised his hand, catching the sight of a waiter.

entrees were served, followed by main dishes. younghoon and you talked about each other, and he talked a lot about himself.

how he and his brother were raised in england, before moving at the age of 15 back to korea. he went to university, took classes in law school before graduating, not only from a prestigious uni but also with honors. since that, he’s been helping his father around along with his brother regarding their family business, as they’re the ones who’s going to take their father’s place place someday.

kim younghoon was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

yet he seemed far from those whiny nepo babies who fed themselves off of their father’s pocket, but act like they rule the whole world. his family’s money might back him up, but he ruled his own brain, branding himself as the smart and hardworking guy from a wealthy family who could lead even without his father’s hand in the matter.

in short, he’s a man that everyone dreams to become.

the conversation went smooth up until dessert was served. you couldn’t help yourself but to blurt out, “so, what’s the job? when am i gonna do it?”

“oh, we’re actually doing it right now,” he quipped, putting another slice of cake into his mouth.

“what?”

younghoon didn’t say anything, only flicking his hand to call for the waiter. the waiter soon came with a bright smile as they put a velvet box right in front of you. not forgetting to say what a lucky woman to have a partner like that.

a partner?

you were still not functioning perfectly, still deep in your thoughts and confused even when younghoon pushed the velvet box towards you. “open it.” he said.

“mr. kim, i— i’m, i’m not sure i—“ you had stuttered, but he silenced you up.

“just open the box.”

per his command, your hands moved to open the box. upon the first touch, you could feel the soft velvet under your fingers, quickly understanding the high quality of the box, and perhaps, the item within it. curiosity might kill the cat, but not you, you believed as you opened the box and found a piece of necklace within it. a pearl necklace stared back at you from that box.

wordlessly, younghoon stood up. he took the necklace out of its box before bringing it near your neck. his hands softly moved your hair to the side, and you quickly responded by bunching your hair in your fist, giving him access to your bare neck. as he put on the necklace, he lowered his lips next to your ear.

“you’ll find a woman to your right, dressed in all green. she’s mrs. han, a socialite in gangnam and wife to mr. han, one of the most important people in the ministry of health,” he whispered to you, “she knows me, and might’ve been watching us since the beginning. she has a daughter around our age and she had been wanting to… arrange a marriage between our families.”

“and my job is…?”

finishing on putting the necklace on, younghoon simply smiled to you. “…to be my partner. fiancee, girlfriend, whatever. to put on a show. i don’t want to be engaged in that way, but i have a brother and he’s willing to do that in my stead,”

“there’s an upcoming socialite party, and a little birdie told me you’re quite… persuasive,” he started to explain, “if you can get us an invitation, put some good words and convince her to make an arrangement between her daughter and my brother, you’ll have your way with my family. you see, we need this connection. a connection with her husband makes it easier for our drug business, even in exporting and importing. mr. han is one of the man ruling the country. prove yourself, and my father promises to invite you for a dinner, to talk about future business with ateez. even with the lees. and the offer’s still up even though you only succeeded in securing an invitation for us to the party.”

he straightened his back, offering his hand to you, “there’s still a chance to back out.”

you weren’t sure, but you shook your head and took his hand, “i won’t.”

younghoon smiled, almost so brightly, a quick change from his previous hard demeanor. he landed a long lasting kiss on the back of your hand, another added shock to you. you almost stuttered and about to pull your hand when he spoke,

“the necklace looks dashing on you, sweetheart.” he almost purred, shocking you.

“kim younghoon?”

the latter’s voice stopped you from pulling away. younghoon simply turned to the lady who called his name, giving her a smile.

“mrs. han,” he greeted back, bowing slightly, “good to see you again.”

mrs. han only chuckled, “then you should’ve visit me more often. i haven’t seen you around in any of my gatherings.” she looked behind younghoon, at you. “and i certainly have never seen this lovely lady with her lovely necklace around.” she quipped.

younghoon gave his hand for you to take, and you did, standing up from your seat next to him. “let me introduce you to my fiancee, y/n. she’s the reason i’m not around much, mrs. han. you can blame her for it.” he once again kissed your hand in a cheeky manner, and you giggled following his act. “i can’t seem to get her out of my life.” he continued.

you bowed slightly to the lady, offering her a sweet smile. “my name is y/n, pleasure to meet you mrs. han. younghoon told me many things about you.” you introduced yourself.

“all the good things, i hope.”

“don’t worry ma’am, he made me think you’re a great woman. and it shows now.”

she laughed, feeling content with your answer.

“and he didn’t forget to tell me how much of a good host you are for your party.” you smirked, starting your mission.

by the time you came home, it was almost midnight. you knew wooyoung would’ve fallen asleep by then, so you tiptoed your way into your room, with your heels in your hands.

your heart almost jumped out of your chest when the light suddenly turned on.

“where have you been?”

“shit, woo!” you cussed while holding your chest, almost panting. “baby? why aren’t you sleeping?”

wooyoung sat on the edge of your bed with his arms folded as he stared at you. “obviously, i was waiting for you.” he deadpanned, “you know i couldn’t sleep without you. so where have you been?”

you exhaled, feeling guilty that you left the man waiting for until midnight, completely forgetting the existence of modern phones and to tell him of your whereabouts. “oh, baby,” you walked up to him, cradling his face in your palms.

“i’m so sorry i made you wait,” you kissed his forehead, “i had lunch with kim younghoon, and he gave me a task. i spent the whole day planning and then reporting to hongjoong, and we had a last minute meeting with stray kids. i should’ve told you, that’s my mistake,” you explained. wooyoung sighed defeatedly, finally accepting your apologies. he circled his hands on your waist.

“it’s okay.” he muttered.

you told him to get ready for bed, while you freshen up in the bathroom, finally ready to end the night. your body felt warm, being in your comfiest pajamas, and your heart follows when you saw wooyoung on bed tucked nicely under the blanket, with his arm stretched out welcoming you in his embrace.

“how was today’s scouting?” you asked with a small voice.

“it was okay,” he answered, listing the things he had done. “got some new muscles that i gotta train. met yeonjun and changbin. and… oh!” he gasped, making you look up to him.

“what is it?”

“you know, me and san found this girl while scouting, she was badass,” he said and you could practically see the sparks in his eyes, “she fought this buff man in like, 5 seconds, though i think the man was more of muscle than skills, but isn’t that cool? san wanted her so bad he ran straight to her after the fight.”

“anyways i didn’t want to scout her at first but san would probably held me on a gunpoint if i refuse him—“ you both laughed, “—yeah right? so long story short we probably got ourselves a new charmer. i think san’s gonna teach her more, but i’ll still have to take part in physical training.”

you hummed, “san fell in love at the first sight, huh?”

wooyoung nodded, “i think i did too.”

you playfully hit his chest, making him wince dramatically as he held his chest.

“jung wooyoung! don’t you dare fall in love with her!” you threatened him. the bastard husband of yours grinned.

“are you jealous?”

“hm, i don’t know. what would you think if i hooked up with kim younghoon?”

“hey!” he whined, clearly not liking the idea of you and another man side by side. not even one bit. and that was something everyone know, and some even witnessed it with their own eyes, referring to your previous encounter with lee juyeon.

you laughed to his blatant jealousy, and maybe, seeing the smile in your face and the sound of your melodic laugh to his ears were the reason for him laughing along with you.

wooyoung pulled you close to his body, putting his chin on top of your head. the smell of your shampoo invaded his nose, and somewhat it relaxed him all the time. maybe it’s your shampoo, or maybe, it’s the fact that you’re close to him.

he breathes slowly, but you could hear his heart beating fast behind his chest. some things change, but you realize one thing stays the same; his heartbeat. whenever you put your head to his chest you always hear the same fast beat from his heart.

and you know yours beats the way his did.

“i can never love anyone else but you.”

his voice pierced through the silence as he murmured the words into your hair.

maybe it was his voice. maybe it was the sentence, the words. maybe it’s both things combined, the reason why you feel such warmth in your heart and the pleasant butterflies flying in your stomach. the combination of two simple things, yet magical enough for you to take it as a sign of love.

love.

you buried your face into his chest, trying to hide your smile. all you could say was, “i love you, woo.”

simple sentence that also warmed his heart.

to both lovers like you, those moment felt like it’s just you both against the world. in your vows; both in happiness or sadness.

“will i see you again?”

wooyoung suddenly asked. the nature of the question making you pull away from him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“what kind of question is that?” you asked back, looking up to his face.

he seemed doubtful, that was clearly painted all over his face, visible from his eyes, the way it glinted.

wooyoung sighed. “i don’t know. you have a job, so many things to do now that hongjoong trusts you. and i’m happy for you, baby, i truly do, it’s just—“ he hesitated for a while before continuing.

“it’s— what if you get busier? what if we get so busy that… that we can’t even share a proper meal together like we used to? what if we can’t see each other as much as we used to back when we have less things to do? what if i can’t even hug you in my sleep at night? what if—“

“—what if we changed so much and turn in a direction we don’t want?”

late night thoughts do bring the most genuine question. and his was a valid one.

it’s no secret that marriage, no matter how sweet, how hot or cold, can suddenly turn lukewarm, tasteless, or even turn sour over the time.

that would be a nightmare. one that can turn very real, in any time, near or far.

to imagine a tasteless marriage life with your passionate husband made you crawl closer to him, burying your face in his chest to seek more warmth. the more seconds went the more you appreciate his prescence. taking in everything you could.

just in case it’d be your last.

“i promise we won’t turn that way, my love. i’ll do anything to keep us together. keep us, keep you safe.” you murmured into his chest.

“you just have to promise to love me still. like this. even when times go rough, when it eats us inside out, body and soul. even with the last sparks of love you have for me, love me. until i’m not here beside you.” you continued. you felt suffocated, unconsciously the littlest sniffle got out of you with the tears. “you’re all i have, wooyoung.”

desperation in it’s truest form.

but it’s true, you have no one but your husband. no family, no nothing. not even a life, if it was not for the past, or the present, given by your husband and his kin. and now that you’ve associated yourself with them, you, who used to have nothing, now have something. and it fears you to imagine losing them.

to go back to the solitude you were in before.

hearing your cries crushed him. he tightened his hands around you, securing you in his grasp, giving you the most comfort one could give. he might regret the way he voiced out his concerns today, yet it was an important question within your relationship.

and a silent way to say that he fears of losing you, too.

“i’m here, baby. i love you,” he said, giving a peck on your hair,

“and i promise to keep that love for as long as i live.”

NOT EVEN HALFWAY BUT I STILL WANNA FINISH THE WHOLE THING. enjoy. both in reading and waiting uwu

also we’re getting closer to… the start of the angst.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fics #mafia ateez #ateez mafia au #ateez au #ateez wooyoung #mafia!ateez #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang #ateez fic #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #younghoon the boyz #younghoon fic #juyeon the boyz #juyeon fic

[moreclaypigeons]

Mountain Goats fans how are we feeling

Jenny 2... I will put all my analysis about what these things mean under the cut. I would also like to note that after i took these screenshots the 11th (pirate ship sunset) just... disappeared? The post was gone for a fair bit but then came back. may have been a glitch. or maybe a ghost ship.

Here's what I'm getting story-wise:

Someone rode away on their custom Kawasaki with a stinger on the back, leaving the speaker there at the curb so they had to take a bus. But they never saw them again, no one did. Flaky yellow paint of the Kawasaki.. staying up late thinking about how the relationship ended. Time passes and it's winter and they have search parties out for this person. The person crashed while on their bike. And then the speaker realizes it. And the person is dead the end

Now in terms of allusions to the song Jenny:

"You roared into the driveway of our southwestern ranch style house": the house in the first image reasonably fits that description. "Our house faced west": based on the shadows here, the house DOES face either east or west because of the direction that the sun rises.

"on a new Kawasaki, all yellow and black, fresh out of the showroom.": It's the same bike! But, based on the line in the third post, "flaky yellow paint," some time has passed.

"the big orange sun" we see in the 11th image, where the pirate ship sails into the sunset. the image also alludes to "you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon," and "the pirate's life for me!"

post 10 is interesting because it too draws from the pirate's life line, but the imagery is different, and definitely connects/foreshadows the graveyard image. Here is an excerpt from the wikipedia page for jolly rogers: When the pirates' intended victim was within range, the Jolly Roger would be raised, often simultaneously with a warning shot. The flag was probably intended as communication of the pirates' identity, which may have given target ships an opportunity to decide to surrender without a fight.

Miscellaneous:

image 7, with the grecian vase imagery is reminding me of spent gladiator.

i have no idea what the fuck the water tower means.

image 12 depicts a music staff with some notes on it. i know nothing about music but i do know the internet does so i am currently trying to reconstruct it with a program. update mmaybe will follor?

other songs:

According to what John Darnielle has said in hit podcast "i only listen to the mountain goats," Jenny has appeared in 2 or 3 other songs.

"She calls on the phone in Night Light" and "she calls on the phone in Straight Six" and was the sender of postcards in Source Decay. He says, "She is defined by an absence, she has yet to speak. She's in the song Jenny; the other two songs she's in, she's already gone. …She's not there when things are going well, and she's not remembered when things are going well. Jenny is an emblem of more difficult times for people, of wilder times. But also times that they're pretty clearly romanticizing, right, that they're also remembering as the time when they were on a motorcycle with no responsibilities, livin' the pirate's life."

Of course I'm going to listen to those three songs <3

Night light: "Jenny calls from Montana/ She's only passing through / Probably never see her again in this life I guess" oh but we WILL see her again... And then never again. "I was a red dot blinking on a screen up overhead / And then the room went dark" and "Plug a night light in / Leave the porch light on" remind me of the bedside clock and the gas station.

Holy shit Straight Six. I didn't realize this was on Jam Eater Blues until I went to its page on the wiki, but- this is significant cause on their linktree, "stream jam eater blues" is at the top and i was confused cause they also released a bunch of other shit. this is foreshadowing...

Anyways significant moments of Straight Six:

"Dull powder blue paint job / earl scheib special" this could either be the auto station (#2) or the fact that the speaker's car has an earl scheib special paint job (had to research this), which maybe he got from the same auto shop. This song talks a lot about a car. "Rabbit skull hanging from the rear-view" "And I glide down the streets of this city / All night, uptight" "There's a crack in the windshield eighteen inches long / Evaporating snow forming crystals on the chrome" it's hard to tell from the drawing of the van whether there is a crack on the windshield or whether it's just stylized, but..this does intrigue me. And when I heard them mention SNOW immediately after... when the caption to the van post says "searching in the snow".......

Source Decay also mentions driving and cars a lot. Couldn't find anything more significant than what the other songs have though.

If anyone has any other thoughts to share or disagrees or like I missed something- PLEase share i am so eager to hear/talk about this!

#sierra speaks #tmg #the mountain goats #jenny 2 #tmg jenny #mountain goats

[malusienki]

why does listening to classical music automatically make you “an old soul” “nerdy” “weird” “boring”

more under the cut (it’s long, sorry)

like? is it just me having a different standpoint or do i not get it? why is it that classical music is considered boring? what caused that? what???? im convinced the people saying these things have listened to like. vivaldi’s four seasons. boccherini’s minuet. offenbach’s can-can. and called it a day. these people probably don’t even know that it’s called “minuet” and only refer to the toreador march as the “fnaf song” <- (i don’t have anything against this per se, fnaf is a really cool thing i just never got into it fully and it only irks me just a little but that’s a whole other topic) without knowing what it’s from. now that goes to say i don’t expect everyone who criticizes and doesn’t like it to immediately go listen to the entire library of classical music and be enlightened but it’s a little offputting when you go out of your way to continuously remind someone that they’re weird for listening to and enjoying operas and/or classical music.

that last little bit was taken from what my friend— or i guess ex-friend now but the term still seems unfamiliar— would kind of do to me but to a lower degree i think. they said they found my interest in opera cool and would .. kind of listen to my rants and stuff and i appreciate it but then they’d go and make offhand comments about how weird i was and would use my interest in opera to sort of like.. “you can’t be talking you like OPERA” in a jokey manner i guess? that sort of thing. i thought that was normal and even though it hurt my feelings, it was all jokes, yeah? [i recognize now that thats not how that works and even though occasional jokes are okay your interests should never be the butt of the “joke” if it’s constantly repeated and hurts your feelings] and i think people don’t realize how much of a foundation classical music in itself is. i cannot tell you how many times i’ve recognized a piece to be a fragment from an opera or a mozart composition or like.. jeez i don’t fucking know, beethoven. out in the wild. in pop music, in movies, in shows, etc. even instagram reels/tiktok. if you frequent those you’ll come to find that there are a lot of trending “audios” using like.. lacrimosa or vivaldi’s four seasons or fuckin like prokofiev’s dance of the knights or act II of swan lake. i remember my mom was watching a netflix movie, a fucking cheesy ass romance or something, and there was a moment where the flower duet from lakmé played. the goddamn mario movie has a clip of carmen’s “l’amour est un oiseau rebelle”/the habanera within the first like, what. ten? fifteen minutes? i might be getting needlessly annoyed but it’s really fucking aggravating getting told i’m weird for liking something supposedly no one else under the age of 50 does. thanks guys. i really appreciate your supportiveness— but that’s besides the point.

my main reason that i’m even writing this is because my assumption (of course, this is most likely an incorrect assumption because i’m only 15 and only have so much life experience) is that the same people who often go around saying that classical music is boring and dull are the ones who are constantly wanting to push the arts to be funded. if you’re gonna fund the arts, fund ALL of them. not just “‘“‘“modern”””” stuff. not just musical theatre or plays. i think people forget that? maybe they ignore it. maybe they just don’t know. that’s why education is so important.

now that being said, i know seeing an opera or going to a concert can be expensive— and i wish that wasn’t the case. there’s always free livestreams, there’s always concerts, there’s albums, youtube videos, i know when i was in chicago i listened to the classical radio, etc. nothing beats seeing these things live in the theatre but it’s better than nothing i think?

also, i don’t mean to say classical is better than anything i mentioned above. no. i’m just sick and fucking tired of being told this and that about my interest when all i want to do is to be happy and consume something in peace without being hardcore judged for it and i really appreciate the small little operablr community.

there’s definitely more that i missed to this so if i think of anything more i’ll add on to it but i’m just… hrrrrgggg anger rage frustration. head in hands. so tired.

thank you for your time

#rants #classical music #opera tag #music

[saratinz]

Fine China

pairing ➩ Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha x Sam (Modern AU)

warnings ➩ depression, addiction, alcohol, pills, angst, sad ending, cheating

synopsis ➩ Based off 'Fine China' by Lana Del Rey

word count ➩ 1.9k

You stare at the white dress you once loved so dearly. “Yeah, of course you can have it, Natasha.” 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you again. I know what I’m asking is insensitive, but this, it really means a lot.” 

“It’s okay, Nat. You’re going to look stunning. I’ve been left on my wedding day, twice, think I have a problem, and until I figure that out, I can’t be anywhere near this shit.”

“Thank you so much. God I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy for you.” 

“I know this is asking a lot, but will you be my maid of honor?”

“I’d love to.” You put on your best fake smile. But as soon as she leaves, you slide down your wall, screaming to numb the pain you’ve been through in 

Four years ago

I wore diamonds for the birth of your baby

For the birth of your son

Steve Rogers always wanted a child, just his fatherly nature I guess. His ex-wife, Margaret, has always been a third in your relationship. You get the call while getting your makeup and hair done, quickly getting off your chair to drive to the hospital. You were shocked that this baby is coming out, considering it a month before his due date. Peggy manages to look gorgeous even while going through one of the most painful things known to man. “Hey sweetheart, can we talk in private for a second?” Steve pulls you into the hall.

“Oh, of course.” 

On the same day, my husband-to-be

Packed his things to run

“I’m so sorry , Y/n, my family is the most important thing to me right now.”

“I thought I was your family.”

“I love them.”

“I know that but do you really, y’know, love her that way?”

“I do.”

“You were supposed to say that to me.” You half-heartedly chuckle.

“Can you not joke right now.”

“Fuck you Steve. I gave up everything for you, I listened to you, I stayed with you after you cheated on me and impregnated Peggy, I was even gonna raise a child with you at 25.”

Was bittersweet to say the least

One life begins, one comes undone

You drive away from the hospital, speeding home to drink copious amounts of alcohol.

I've always been a strong woman of faith

Strong like a tree, but the unlucky one

You haven’t cried in years. When you went through your first break-up, you vowed never to cry over a boy again. And you didn’t. But right now, in this situation, you figure that it constitutes a few tears.

I'm going down now

With all of my

You feel broken. After suppressing every painful event in your life for nine years, you finally express your emotions. It’s a rough night, and all you could do was cry until you couldn’t anymore.

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

You get a storage unit, and keep everything from your wedding that never happened, hoping that one day, you would get to use it for real.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“You’re a beautiful girl, sure you want to mess with this stuff.”

“Give me the goddamn pills, Luke.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

You think of the time you almost broke up with Steve. It was when Peggy found out she was pregnant, but the two of you had been together for a year, meaning that he cheated without a doubt. Your friends tried to help, but the best they could muster was a question. “Do you love him?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Then maybe that’s your answer.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened 

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

All hell broke loose, as all of your friends found out Steve left you. Some of them were understanding, some of them dropped him immediately. One of those being Bucky Barnes, who was the only person who didn’t talk to you like you could break at any moment. And over the next year, you fell in love, the next year you got engaged. And now, three years after Steve broke your heart, you find yourself getting ready to be wed. You can’t believe you’re finally going to live your dream. 

I wore diamonds for the day of our wedding

For our day in the sun

You felt beautiful in your dress. “Y/n . We need to talk.”

“Buck, you’re not supposed to see me, it’s like, bad luck or whatever.” You let out a little laugh. You were never the superstitious type.

On the same day, my mother-to-be said she wouldn't come

“My mom, she’s not coming.”

“Oh god, is she sick or something. It would be a little tricky, but we could figure out rescheduling.”

“No, she’s just refusing to come.”

“I thought your mom liked me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you, it’s just, I told her about your little pill problem.”

“What are you talking about”

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re not on anti-depressants like you say. I may not be a doctor but I have Google.”

It's always been that way with me

No time for change, no time for fun

“Okay I’m sorry for lying, but what gave you the right to rifle through my stuff, and then talk to your mom  instead of me about it?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Wait, you’re not talking about, no, what the fuck James? No, this, it can’t be happening again.”

It's always been that way, it seems

One love begins, one comes undone

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t sit back and watch as you kill yourself.”

“Oh my god, so you’re leaving me because I like to relax.”

“It’s not just pills you’re addicted to, you’re addicted to me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re like a leach, sucking the life force out of me. You’re never satisfied.”

“I didn’t want you to leave like Steve did.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I do.”

“I’m never gonna hear you say those words, am I?”

“I don’t know, Y/n, maybe one day.”

I'm going down now

With all of my

“So, I’ll do whatever I have to, I wanna be with you, I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll do whatever it takes, just please. Please.”

“I love you, Y/n, I always will.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

Back to your storage unit, everything goes. You really thought this was it. You’re a fucking idiot.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

You try to get clean, and you manage to stay that way for three months. But one day, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and your sponsor was on vacation, you take a little trip to your favorite dealer. “Hey, haven’t seen you in awhile. You getting sober or something?”

“Went to rehab, stayed off drugs for a guy. I’m just gonna ruin my chance with him, I guess.”

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“Fuck him, I need to think about me.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’m using again Bucky, and I’m not gonna stop.”

“Please don’t do this.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Present day

All of my, all of my fine china

After five drinks and two pills, you get up on the little stage area that was set up.

All of my, all of my fine china

“Hey guys, as the maid of honor, I would like to say congratulations to my best friend and her wonderful new husband, Sam. But oh my god, if I hear anyone compliment the table cloth, dishes, decor, or god forbid the dress, I’m going to scream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

“Funny story actually, this was all supposed to be for my wedding. Bucky, where are you? Oh there he is. Handsome, right? Kind of an asshole but if you’re looking for a hook up, I highly recommend. He’s my ex who left me on our wedding day, so, yikes.”

Blue, ah, blue

“She stole my whole wedding. Hell she even stole the lingerie I was planning on wearing for my wedding night. So none of this planning is hers is what I’m trying to say. Guess I could be a fucking wedding planner or something. Ha, wouldn’t that be ironic, the girl who can’t seem to get married helping other people live her dream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

Natasha looks furious. But she didn’t want to stop you. She had done something pretty fucked up too, and even though you said you were okay, she knew you. She knew the pain you were going through. Not from experience though, only listening. She could never fully comprehend the damage done.

All of my, all of my fine china

You continue to embarrass yourself, but you’re too cross-faded to care.

Blue, ah

“Is anyone else still thinking about how weird it is that she’s wearing my underwear? I mean, I never wore them but it still seems a bit strange. Here’s a little secret, that’s her something blue.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

The next morning, you wake with the worst hangover of your life. Oh shit, you ruined Nat’s wedding. As if things couldn’t get any worse, you’re not even in your apartment. Where the fuck are you?

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“You don’t remember? We had sex.”

“Oh god, what about Peggy?”

“She’s a bitch, I never should have left you.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“What’s wrong baby?”

“You’re a terrible person. I need to go.” You scurry out of that hell-scape, cursing your drunk self.

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’d like to check into rehab again.” 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“I have one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“You were never gonna get back together with me, right? I mean it was pretty good incentive, but you were never serious.”

“No, we still have a chance.”

“Cut the shit Bucky. You don’t have to lie to me, just stop playing with my emotions.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Goodbye James.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“Here you go. Everything you asked for is there.” Nat gives you boxes upon boxes of your wedding stuff back. 

Fine china, fine china, fine china

You break every plate, cup, and bowl.

Fresh linen, fresh linen, fresh linen

You burn every table cloth, napkin, and the dress you now hate with your whole heart.

Maybe one day you’ll get married, but you needed this stuff gone, and you needed to never think about it again. So far all you’ve gotten out of your engagements was depression, addiction, and some shards of fine china.

Masterlist / Spinoff series

#angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst

[imagine-this-doesnt-suck]

Dead Doves were Born to be Eaten

YellowJewl

Summary:

For people that have been asking for a part two to sleeping with Spiders, I hope you're happy you little nasties. We're back and gorier than ever It's fucked, real fucked. But let's face it, a part of you always has been. Long before you met him. Maybe you were born a monster. But the thing is, even monsters crave a connection.

Notes:

If you are my friend please don't read this. It's not a reflection of who I am, just some horny fucked up shit I wrote. That being said, I'm a Feitan simp and the spirit of Halloween's wh*re possessed me to write this.

This first chapter is a bit of background for our Y/N, Feitan will return in ch.2, this is the same Y/N from sleeping with spiders

Chapter 1

You remember every year as the summer months transitioned into the cool, unforgiving autumns of your youth, your father and your older brother would leave to go on their annual three week hunting trip. As the only daughter you remained uninvited to the deer hunt every year, as your father fed you excuses like 'you're too young' or 'you have to stay home with your mother and the baby, keep em safe sweetheart' or this one's rich, 'it's just something for me and your brother, you wouldn't have any fun."

But lo and behold, after his tenth birthday, when the leaves began to brown on the trees, would you guess who was finally invited on your father's hunting trip? You all sat around the breakfast table, your little brother pokes at the runny egg that lays atop of his bowl of rice as your father tells him what fun the three of them are going to have. You have yet to say anything on the matter but, your older brother from across the breakfast table gives you a knowing look before he looks to your father and rolls his eyes. 

If you were more mature and a bit more empathic, you might feel the slightest bit of pity for your old man. All his life he wanted to be a hunter. A poacher hunter like his grandfather before him. Even learning the tiniest bit of nen in his youth, training his hardest before he was finally able to take the exam.

He failed three times.

Three years in a row, came and went before your mother, his long term girlfriend at the time, finally announced that she was pregnant and he was to give up this foolish endeavor and get a real job. He of course reluctantly agreed.

Still the man clung to his dream with a subtleness that your mother could never really call him out for. Whether it be keeping up with hunter news, signing your older brother up for endurance training in hopes that he could one day secretly show him nen, or dragging him off to the woods to hunt. The man had only this one escape from his dull life, and that was to push his dreams and aspirations onto his sons. Too bad for him that his eldest was a lazy pervert, banned from his university for harassment, and his youngest, a timid recluse who despised leaving the house. Both of them could give less of a shit about his dreams.

His oddball daughter, being you of course, wasn't even considered when it came to training whoever it would be to carry your fathers torch that in truth, he himself never never got to hold. And it wasn't as if you met any of your mother's expectations. You were just the quiet girl who never went anywhere without her sketchbook. Nothing special and always overlooked. Even at this moment.

"I'll go." You say as you stare straight at your father. He turns to look at you but swiftly turns away, uneasy under your gaze.

In his cowardice he can't even look you in the eyes as he rejects you. Instead he stares down at his breakfast as he says, "We've been over this, sweetheart. You wouldn't like it anyways. Camping outside, with the bugs, wouldn't you much rather stay at home with your mother?"

"No." You answer honestly and apparently a bit too quick for your mother's taste as she swats the back of your head and scolds you. Ignoring her, you continue on "You've always said I was too young or it was just a thing for you two" you say as you gesture between him and your older brother. "But now you're letting the brat go?" You receive another swat as your mother tells you not to call your brother names.

Your father opens his mouth to make his argument but your older brother cuts him off, "Come on dad, she really wants to go. Besides, with more people there, it'll take the pressure off Jr. here." He says as he ruffles your baby brother's hair beside him.

With a sigh, and despite the glare he was receiving from your mother, he finally relented and said, "Fine."

That is what brought you to the Fall you spent swaddled in a large camo jacket and an orange vest as your family was huddled up in a deer stand.

Your father lectures your little brother for the thousandth time about gun safety and how to hold the contraption. Your eldest brother looks like he's half asleep as he lazily chews on a strip of beef jerky. 

You kneel by the window of the deer stand, peering out towards the lush forest. Its once verdant green leaves were now far and few between as nature ran its course and gave way to the auburn reds and warm oranges of autumn. The air was crisp and the cold bit at your nose as your eyes grazed the picturesque landscape before you. As you stared out intently, a cool brown shade swept across your vision, a detail so small that you had almost missed it. You had spotted a deer through the thick brush of trees.

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn't expected to see one so soon. Quickly, with shaky hands you lift the rifle that up until then had been sitting useless in your hands. You steady it and take aim.

Meters away from your position in the stand, the deer stares back at you.

You feel a rush of adrenaline flow through you as your pulse begins to quicken and you can hear the blood pumping in and out of your vascular valves, in your ears. You're ready.

Your finger finds the trigger and you pull back the bolt that until now had been locked in place.

A shot rings out, breaking the silence of the forest and causing a cluster of birds to take flight and flee from a nearby tree. Your father's head whips around ready to scold you for taking a shot without permission.

You calmly wave him off, "I took a shot. It fell." You say with a shrug. Masking the raw excitement fueling you in the moment.

"What?" Your father asks in confusion.

 "It fell. Did I get it?" You answer back.

Your father sighs and looks at your little brother, who's chewing on a piece of jerky in his lap.

"You know how dangerous that could have been, don't you? If your mother heard about this-"

 "But I got it." You repeat, waiting for him to congratulate you.

You're not exactly sure why, but his expression softens a bit as he nods at you.

"Good job."

 The four of you trek out into the forest to retrieve your kill. It takes a bit before you finally smell the steely scent of blood fill the air. Your family is silent as you walk through the woods.Your older brother walks alongside you, his hand on your shoulder.

Your father walks behind, with your younger brother clinging to his leg.

Just as you reach what you think will be the young stag you had shot, your father stops dead in his tracks. You brother gasps, and you stare blankly ahead. Yes the deer you shot lay dead on the forest floor but not forty feet away is a horrific sight that will haunt your family for years. A corpse of a hunter leaning against a tree as five deer surround him, eating his remains.

The man has been shot through the head, and his face looks as though he's aged twenty five years in the past week.

You find yourself unable to look away.

His face is frozen in a rictus of pain as he leans against the tree, the five deer still tearing at his face.

Even as a child you knew that expression, and it would not be one you'd soon forget.

Your little brother begins to sob in fear. Your older brother wraps you in a hug in order to shield your eyes from the sight. But you keep looking at it. You don't want to look away.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Your baby brother sobs as he buries his face in the crook of your dad's elbow, trying to hide from the gruesome reality.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." your father says to him but it is all white noise to you as you are ingulfed in the moment. You we're unable to tear your gaze away from the corpse, in fact you don't think you wanted to even if you could. The sight of the corpse became an almost religious experience. You didn't know it yet but, this is the day that would become a catalyst in your life. The day changed you forever, and the real you had begun to awaken from her slumber. 

You look back towards your family, who are now staring back at you, now noticing your intense gaze. You hear your father clear his throat uncomfortably and say, "We're heading back to the house."

_

Your mother had been understandably pissed. She forbade any future hunting trips as she sobbed about how her children were probably traumatized forever. You had never seen your mother that mad. Not even when you had broken your arm on the playground and it had been cast in plaster did she yell at you that way. She was practically seething, her shouting at your father made her voice hoarse and the sobbing she would resort to every ten words made her sound like a dying animal.

But you didn't really care all the much in the long run. Having made her lose her temper with you multiple times before, you figured the storm would pass. And so you three kids went to bed with the sound of your parents arguing in the background. Your older brother had cornered you in the hall later that night to tell you it wasn't your fault but you were pretty sure he had only said it to reassure himself. He wrapped you in one of his usual too tight hugs that always went on a bit too long and made you squirm uncomfortably before letting you go and giving you a solemn look.

Brushing the encounter off, you made your way to the robin egg blue painted room to tuck your little brother into bed. Jr. was abnormally quiet for the whole routine before you leaned down to kiss his forehead and wish him a goodnight. He shrunk back at your touch.

"Don't touch me." He said, spitting up at you.

You gasped at the action. Never before had he ever done any of the sort to anyone. The normally shy and docile boy had been so quick to judge. It had caught you off guard. Wiping the saliva off your face you take a deep breath and regain your composure. It had been a long day and you figured that you would give the kid room for error in such a turbulent time. You brush the hair out of his face, "It's going to be okay."

 "No!" He growled at you, "Youre a monster, someone was dead and you don't even care. You were excited, weren't you? I saw. I saw you."

 You smiled softly at him, pretending to ignore him, "I love you, little man. You know that?" 'I love you' had come to become the turn of phrase in your household that one would throw out when they were finished with uncomfortable discussions. A white flag thrown out onto the field to keep the peace. It didn't mean that you thought you were in the wrong it was only said to placate your opponent. Your little brother only looked at you in disgust.

All that to say that you truly did love him. You really did. You loved your entire family. But you knew that you were different and they might never understand. You were a monster. You were the devil. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

"I know you're scared, little man."

 "You're a monster." He repeats.

You didn't argue back. There was no point in it. Instead you held his hand and looked him straight in the eye. "I know. But even monsters want to feel a connection." You say before turning off his nightlight and leaving the room.

Eventually you would find your connection.

It wouldn't be human. It wouldn't be your family. It wouldn't be your friends.

But someone a lot like you.

You were a monster.

He was the devil.

#feitan hxh #x reader #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #feitan #hxh #hxh x reader #dead dove do not eat

[sunsetsixx]

lace & silk

a/n: this is a beyond random post for me here at sunsetsixx hq but as a journalism major & previous owner of a multifandom writing blog i guess i was bound to return to my roots at some point ! this isnt me becoming a writing blog, instead just a one-off fic of an idea thats been floating around in my brain for the last 2 weeks that came to fruition in a google doc at 2am. i dont know if theres even an audience for this besides me & maybe like 3 other people in my notifs so enjoy if you wanna & pls dont judge my out of practice writing too much <3

pairing: current!vince neil x fem!reader

word count: 2315

warnings: smutty dialogue, light (?) smut, mentions of tommy & brittany getting it on lmfao, a highly unrealistic take on the behind the scenes of the stadium tour that was necessary for the plot

“Can you fuckin’ believe we’re already halfway through this tour?” Brittany asked, shaking her head as the two of us walked back to where the buses were parked. “I swear to God we just hopped on that plane to Atlanta like yesterday.”

“Seriously.” I nodded in agreement. “Time has flown.” 

“It’s been a crazy ride. Like so fun.” 

“If I’m being honest though, it’s really not as chaotic as I thought it would be.”

“Really? What do you mean?” She asked.

“I don’t know…I guess it’s just different actually living the modern day reality. We’ve heard and read all these insane stories of them in the 80s but obviously life just isn’t like that anymore.” I let out a short laugh. “No real backstage shenanigans…it’s funny to see how much they’ve mellowed out over the years.”

“Girl you’re lucky you don’t have to deal with shenanigans. My husband thinks it’s funny to light shit on fire with hairspray every five seconds. There’s literally never a dull moment in that dressing room.” 

“I don’t know if I’m jealous or not.” I said laughing. “We keep it pretty chill in ours. Mainly just me helping with his outfit and hair. Lots of Fiji water and listening to Sammy Hagar’s solo stuff as ‘pump up’ music.” I explained as Brittany laughed this time. 

By this point in the conversation, we had made it to tonight’s stadium’s back parking lot where our temporary homes were located. All of the buses were set up in a line with the lights on, as if ready to drive off at any minute. But from the looks of Brittany’s face, and the absence of our men, we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“Hold up.” She said, a look of disbelief gracing her features. 

“What?” I asked, laughing in confusion. 

“You’re telling me that you and Vince Neil haven’t fucked in your dressing room this entire time?” 

My mind began to rewind as many shows back as it could remember, but nothing of the sort stood out. I shook my head at her. “No. Just in the hotels and a couple times on the bus…” I trailed off as my gaze wandered over to the vehicle in question, all kinds of memories from the first week flooding back when Vince so romantically suggested “breaking in the new place” with multiple rounds on multiple surfaces. 

“(y/n)! What are you even doing? You’re a tour wife man, you gotta act like it!” She joked, lightly hitting my arm with her bag. 

“I don’t know! I guess it just always gets too busy back there, especially with all the meet and greets and photoshoots and filming…I never wanted to tire him out before the show or whatever. I haven’t even thought about it too much.”

“The rushing around is what makes it so good though. Tommy & I were like rabbits back in St. Louis. I don’t know what was in that water but shit got crazy.” 

I nodded, thinking about everything my best friend was saying. “You might be right, Britt. Truly what am I doing if not the lead singer in the sleaziest band to walk this earth backstage? It’s a disgrace to their reputation, honestly.” I said, shaking my head. 

“There you go!” She laughed. “Just because they’re getting older doesn’t mean we are too. We gotta keep them on their toes babe.” 

“You always do make a good point Ms. Furlan-Lee.” I replied, and the two of us broke out into laughter. We stood outside scrolling through our phones and judging each other’s Instagram feeds for a few more minutes before we were finally joined by the men of the hour. 

“Goodnight guys! See you on the next!” Nikki’s slightly raspy post-show voice called out. He was walking up with Courtney and a sleeping Ruby in tow on the way to their bus as well. 

“See you dude!” An unmistakable voice yelled back, followed by the appearance of the lankiest guy of the bunch, still somehow with a single drumstick in hand. 

Finally I caught a glimpse of my specific man of the hour, who had traded in the bright red glitter and leathers of his stage costume for a pair of camo shorts and a black tank top. His signature chain hung around his neck and for some reason he was also still adorning sunglasses at 1:30 in the morning. 

“There you are.” I said smiling as he walked up. 

“Hey lovey.” He said, wrapping me in a hug and pressing a short kiss to the top of my head. 

“You tired?” I asked, still in his arms. 

“Yeah I could sleep. Fuckin’ awesome show though. I still can’t believe how many people are actually showing up.” 

I scoffed at his words. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. This is literally the tour of the century. People are gonna be showing up for you guys forever.” 

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Hopefully.” 

He gave my back a quick rub before motioning for us to get on our bus so we could start off to the next city. As we got ready for bed, my conversation with Brittany played over and over in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. 

I just said it too– this is the tour of the fucking century. I need to start treating it like that for myself and my man. Tomorrow is a new day full of new experiences and new ideas and new desires. A million possible ways I could go about what I wanted to do swirled around in my brain, but as I settled under the covers of our shared bed in the back room, a lightbulb moment was had. 

~

The next night began like every other after we arrived at the latest stadium and got everything settled. Crüe was closing the show tonight, which meant we all had more time to hang backstage. We were currently in an in-between period between Poison and Def Leppard, meaning there was about two hours until Crüe’s set. Vince was mostly ready to go, and was over in someone else’s room with the rest of the guys in the band hanging out and doing whatever other pre-show rituals they all partake in these days. 

I was in his dressing room, putting last night’s ideas into action. I was nervous for a million different reasons; nervous he’d shun me off if there wasn’t enough time, nervous he’d think I was trying to act like some groupie on the Girls Girls Girls tour, nervous the idea my brain had conjured up was overstepping or I’d get in trouble with their stylist somehow. Lots of nerves. I just hoped Brittany’s advice was right to take for Vince and me. 

After connecting my phone to the speaker and turning some music up decently loud, I began the action steps of my plan. I grabbed my tote bag and wandered into the bathroom. I took off the ripped blue jeans and tank top I had been sporting all day and opted for something more…(well technically, less) appropriate. I had dug out one of my red teddies from my luggage on the bus, a lacey number I knew was one of Vince’s favorites, and slipped it on in place of my clothes. I touched up my makeup that had begun to flake off over the course of the day, and ran a brush through my hair. 

Once satisfied, I walked back out into the now much more noticeably cold air of the dressing room for the main operation. 

There on a silver rack hung Vinnie’s most prized possession this tour– a floor length, silk piece of art hand painted with Japanese symbols in reds, golds, and royal blue covering the back. I ran my hands down the oversized sleeves as it hung there, looking like something that should’ve been in the MOMA rather than trekking around dingy baseball stadium hallways being diligently followed by a short woman with a portable steamer. 

It had been almost a month of The Stadium Tour and I hadn’t dared to touch it, especially not after seeing how pissed off Vince got when someone (still a mystery who) stole his original show pants from backstage. Tonight was different though. I needed it to help me with the fantasy I had dreamed up after a middle-of-the-night conversation in a parking lot in Cleveland with my best friend. 

I took a deep breath before carefully taking it off the hanger and placing it on me. My smaller frame was of course drowning in it, since the length and size was custom made for Vince. I tiptoed over to the full length mirror hanging on the wall, careful not to drag too much of it on the floor. 

My eyes went wide as I took in the sight of myself. Bright red lace hugging my hips and chest perfectly, (the bodysuit had been a gift from Vince last Christmas, something that actually was custom made for my body’s measurements), with the iconic Wild Side performance look draped over my shoulders. I felt expensive– high class even, and now understood why Vince was always on such a high between the opening song and Shout at the Devil. This piece was enough to make anyone’s ego go through the roof. 

I tied the kimono up in the front to conceal what lay underneath and took a deep breath before walking back over to sit on one of the couches. My back was facing the door, so the surprise wouldn’t be ruined when he came back in, which after seeing the clock turn to 6:39pm, realized should be almost any minute now. 

I smoothed my hair over a few more times with my hand and picked at some stray nail polish that had chipped off onto my cuticles. My mind wandered to the endless amount of reactions he could have at the sight of me until they weren’t just fantasies anymore, but the real thing. 

It took everything in me not to jump off the couch like some sort of rabid animal in anticipation when I heard the doorknob turn and the heavy door creak open. 

“Hey baby, have you see my kim–” 

The sentence died in his throat as I rose from the couch in the very article of clothing he was asking about not a second before. I smiled innocently up at him as his wide eyes looked me up and down. 

I walked toward him, making a show of my bare legs peeking through the soft fabric with every stride forward. He bit his bottom lip when I placed my hands in his. 

“This what you were looking for?” I offered, officially setting the backstage plan into motion. 

“Oh yeah…” He trailed off, letting go of one of my hands so he could twirl me around. “Look at you baby doll.” 

“I got you a present.” I said softly, after a moment. His eyebrows raised when I didn’t continue. Finally I walked backward a couple steps and held my arms out so the kimono’s tie was on display. “You have to unwrap it.” 

He practically pounced on me the second the words exited my mouth. He pulled the silk fabric gently and the loose knot fell, allowing a glimpse of what was underneath to show through.

“You fuckin’ tease.” He said in a low voice, still smiling like a kid in a candy store. The plan was working. 

His hand graced my shoulder as he pushed one arm of the robe off so it draped down my back. “You want something tonight, huh sugar?” He asked, pressing a short kiss to the underside of my jaw. My eyes fluttered closed at the touches, almost completely abandoning the act then and there. I did my best to stay strong. 

“Don’t you have a show in an hour?” I teased, taking a small step back. 

His face dropped. “Don’t you start. Those fuckers can wait.” 

Before I knew it, I was being lifted up and carried towards the couch. He laid me down so my head was on the armrest as he hovered over me. I ran my hands up his tattooed arms as his lips pressed down onto mine. 

He ran his hands over the red lace that clung to my skin and massaged my soft flesh underneath. The couch was beyond uncomfortable, but I found I didn’t care at all when Vince was touching me like this. 

As we made out, his right hand snaked around my back to undo the thin fabric and pull it down my body. I started to slide the kimono off my shoulders to give him more access as well. 

“No.” He said and put his hand on my arm. “Leave it on. My girl wants to play dirty tonight, right?”

I bit my lip and took a deep breath through my nose as I nodded in response.

“That’s what I thought. You want me to fuck you in this then wear it onstage in front of 40,000 people…is that it?” He whispered.

Any and all facade of confidence and calmness I previously had completely melted away at his words. Just the thought of him putting it back on later after these less than wholesome activities to go sing in front of a stadium full of unsuspecting fans had me shuddering in anticipation. He started kissing down my jaw and neck again until he reached my heaving chest. 

“God I love these tits.” He spoke softly. “Especially when they’re filling out this outfit.” He trailed his hand over the kimono once again, down my curves until he reached the part of me dripping with need. 

“You’re lucky I got an extra one of these baby…because you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

#vince neil #motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #vince neil x reader #vince neil imagine #vince neil fanfic #vince neil smut #vince neil fluff #vince neil the dirt #the dirt imagines #the dirt movie #the dirt cast #daniel webber #vince neil x you #motley crue imagine #motley crue smut #motley crue x reader #motley crue fanfic #sunsetsixx.gif

[discodeviant]

Secrets Unkept

Billy/Steve | Teen | <1k

Bit different from what I usually write, but I like how it turned out! Brain-fried lately which I wanted to convey through a fucking-wasted-as-fuck Steve so--please enjoy! <3

Also on AO3 Made for @steveharringtonbingo and @billyhargrovebingo!

It’s forty degrees, and Steve is sweating anyway.

How many beers? Whiskey masked in soda cans?

Voices echo, the kids—why’d they come again?—that fucking dog next door that won’t stop barking.

Their brother. One, she has a brother, Max, the newest one with orange marmalade in pigtail braids. Gorgeous. Gorgeous hair.

Gorgeous brother; gorgeous, dull blond. Not dirty, but like the life was stripped away. Something else too. His eyes. Gorgeous eyes. Blue some days, green on others, grey on nights like these when cicadas sleep under chirping crickets and Steve wants to sleep under the stars with him.

Forty degrees, and Steve thinks he might freeze to death.

When did he jump in the pool? Who’s laughing? Who pushed him?

One of the kids. Not Dustin. Will, it was an accident, he got distracted.

Someone pulls him out. Another beer, a new whiskey, but this one’s bitter. He doesn’t like it. Spits it out, lets it disperse into chlorine water laden with twigs and dead bees, someone’s piss if he had to guess. His? Not his. He’s still holding it in.

“Billy!”

“Oh, shit.”

Voices echo, only two this time; one direction, then the other. Steve can’t tell. The backyard is a record spinning in grooves of greens and blues, flickering white where it scratches too hard, sets a spark, the whole thing alight. There’s a flame somewhere.

Where is it?

Where are you?

One of the kids. Lucas. “Hold my beer, I got this,” Steve says, warbled in his head, another language. He couldn’t repeat it if he were asked.

“Steve!” Lucas. Just a kid. Stay out of this, Steve thinks, but the words don’t come out. Just a grunt. Just—

“Hey!”

The brother. Billy Hargrove. Steve’s seen him up close before, he thinks, he swears it. Who’s he close to? Angry at for something?

Shittier mullet. Dirty, not barren.

Steve’s wet. Pool drips into his eyes, weighs down his arms and legs in soaking denim and cotton, but Billy’s so clear. “Steve?”

He’s heard that voice. Knows he has but can’t remember. It’s gentle, not angry. Him now, not the other guy. The one who pushed him. It wasn’t Will, he shoved into Will. Maybe. Steve thinks. Doesn’t care.

“Steve!”

Max. Just a kid. Can’t stay out of it because it was her brother first, brother’s boyfriend next; only she knows. Steve knows better. More than she does. Knows Billy Hargrove like the backs of his eyelids, which he sees for a moment before the record spins around him again.

His fist hurts now. Blood on his knuckles. He missed something somewhere, but Billy’s not angry anymore. Shocked, maybe, and Steve stumbles over the other guy to jump on Billy, soak through his shirt, drip on his face.

“Steve, Jesus, what the hell?”

Clear as day.

It’s forty degrees, and Billy’s so warm. Steve holds him tight, refuses to let go, and, for the first time, Billy doesn’t push him off.

The kids. “Mind your fucking business, shit-stains. Get him a damn towel or something! Christ…”

His head hurts. It’s been a long night. Voices echo again, they gasp, they laugh, he doesn’t care. Regrets the party, wants them to go home so he can curl up with Billy again and wake up under the gentle breaths from his nose.

“Take me home,” he says, and he’s a little warmer. Billy pulls his towel tight.

“This is literally your house.”

Steve laughs. Kisses him. Billy lets him and walks him inside. The kids are slack-jawed; not Max. She knows. She’s bored.

“Okayyy, party’s over! Go home, assholes!” she says. Footsteps come and go. Billy keeps him upright, makes sure he doesn’t slip on his parents’ hardwood floors.

The pool was Steve’s shower, he insists, and Billy sighs.

In bed: “I’m never letting you drink again.”

Steve laughs. Loves when Billy makes him laugh. Could die to the song that is Billy’s laugh right beside his own because he loves Billy more than he loves anything.

It’s breezy outside, but his heart is scalding. He feels better now.

#harringrove #steve harrington bingo #billy hargrove bingo #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fanfic #ao3 #.discowrites #billy x steve #steve x billy

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 3

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

III.

“We need to quit meeting this way, Mr. Wick.”

He offered a small smile as Helen tied up a suture in his latest injury. She did very neat work. She had remarked that the only thing keeping most RNs from becoming actual doctors wasn’t intelligence or skill, but time and money for med school. Someone has to do the hard work.

Now known with the succinct simplicity of their world as the Night Nurse, she plied her trade exclusively at the Continental, and the nature of the clientele kept her plenty busy. Doc had been happy to split the duty. He’d never actually said the words, but he was getting to the age where retirement just might be on the horizon.

It was possible that John had let his opponent get in an extra hit, so he would have an excuse to put himself in Helen’s capable hands. It was also possible that he’d miscalculated just a tad in his eagerness to see her—this cut was deeper than he’d intended to let it go.

They never did go for that Thai food.

There were whispers of their involvement, but no hard evidence. The ambiguity of their relationship was good. There was just enough possibility that Wick would retaliate if anyone fucked with the new nurse to keep her safe, but not enough certainty to paint a target on her back.

John wanted to keep it that way.  

He felt guilty enough as it was for getting her into this life.

On the day they’d met, her scrubs had been pink. Tonight, they were deep forest green, and though the color suited her to the bone, he couldn’t help but imagine the change in her apparel reflected her new situation.

“I promise you, I did not let this happen on purpose.”

Liar, liar.

“Really? Because I’ve been hearing some things about you.”

“That I never get hurt? Careful what you believe around here. Assassins are terrible gossips.”

“That they are. But so is Winston.”

Fuck.

He would admit that he was relieved Winston had taken a shine to the new Nurse. He damn near doted on her, and he wondered if Helen realized how rare a thing that was.

She probably did.

She was frighteningly astute.

“I wouldn’t believe everything you hear from Winston either.”

“Hmm. Alriiight, Baba Yaga.”

John closed his eyes, saddened, somehow, to hear that feared moniker upon her lips.

Please don’t be afraid of me.

When she touched his cheek, he did lean into her palm, just a little.

“You can just call me John.” He’d liked Jardani too, but it wasn’t something they should make a habit.

“Hmm. Well, John, I wish you would be more careful. This is the third time I’ve sewn you up this month. This one was a little deep for my taste.”

Her thumb grazing his cheekbone tied his insides up in knots.

“I can’t believe you wish me well, considering. I—”

“If you apologize one more time I will scream.”

He groaned, swallowing the words. He had apologized before, several times, for getting her into her current predicament.

Maybe she didn’t see it as a predicament, though. She was kept rather cloistered here in the Continental, from the cruelties of their world outside. He wanted to keep it that way.

“You…like it here, then?” She’d been saving the world one emergency at a time at her previous job. Now, she was patching up devils who probably should be left to die, himself included.  

“I don’t mind it. There’s never a dull moment.”

“True.”

“I work in a beautiful building.”

“It is.”

“I’m meeting such interesting people.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m not getting spit on or assaulted like I used to in the ER.”

John met this admission with a dark look. “Give me their names.”

“Patient confidentiality, John.”

“Pfft.”

There was a gleam in her eye that piqued the dark beast within him. Was his Helen a little blood-thirty after all? Or maybe she just wasn’t used to having someone in her life who would fight for her. My, did she stumble onto the jackpot with John.

She had no idea.

She went on with her list, as though he hadn’t just offered to murder anyone who ever treated her badly. “I’m also making three times what I made before, which is incredibly helpful for caring for my mother and putting my sister through school.”

John had not known any of the last. “You have a sister?”

“Yes, and she got all the talent in the family, the little brat.” Helen said it with a smile. “She wants to go to art school. I think I can actually manage it now.”

“She is…a painter?”

“Painter, graphic designer, seamstress, you name it. She makes all kinds of wonderful things. Things for the wall, things you can use, things you can wear. She just…makes the world a more beautiful place everywhere she goes.”

John had similar thoughts about Helen, but decided to keep them to himself.

“I see. And your mother…is sick?” Helen was too young, for her mother to need a nursing home for elder care just yet.

Helen made a face, like she didn’t want to think about her mom. “She’s had cancer, off and on, since I was a teenager.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I…I have complicated feelings about my mother. We can leave it at that.”

“If you like.”

Helen jumped a little as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked down to check it, and sighed. “I have to go up to 523. Are you feeling alright? Anything I missed?” She looked him up and down appraisingly, and fuck him if it didn’t make him blush. Thank god for his beard.

“I feel great. Thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes a little, a thing he’d noticed she did when she was running his words though her built-in lie detector. “If you say so, Mr. Wick. Let me know if you need anything else.”  

She packed up her things in her seemingly limitless bag of tricks, and made for the door. She looked wistful, as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. As usual, his heart lodged itself in his throat. “You know…we don’t have to only see each other when you get hurt.”

John didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it released in a slow sigh. It killed him a little, when he said quietly, “It’s better for you though, if we don’t.”

She looked down for a moment, and he knew he saw the quick flash of moisture in the corner of her eye. God, but he was a bastard. “If you say so. Next time, then.” Helen escaped out the door without looking back, and John felt a piece of his heart leave with her.

Fuck.

***

Helen leaned her back against the door only for a moment, letting the pain course through her. Why did something that was purely psychological actually feel like getting stabbed in the chest? Ok, so she didn’t actually know what that felt like, but from what she’d seen within these walls, she knew it hurt like a bitch.

Somehow, it hurt more because she knew he was right.

The last thing she needed, really, was to get involved with an Underworld hitman. A Master Assassin, Winston had told her.

She should have been afraid of John Wick. Everyone else certainly was. But the truth was, from the moment she’d looked up from her book on the subway to find that tall, dark, and devilishly handsome man in his ridiculously beautiful suit with those ridiculously soulful dark eyes—she’d been hooked. Hook, line, and sinker.

She’d been so sad that first night when she got off on her stop, certain she’d never see him again. She’d felt like maybe she’d passed by some cosmic opportunity in the grand timeline of her life. New York was a huge city. The odds were not in her favor for meeting him again.

When she’d looked up to find him there a week later, she’d had trouble convincing herself it wasn’t fate.

She wasn’t completely broken, she knew. In the short time she’d worked at the Continental she’d already met plenty of people who set her hair on end. People who rang that little alarm bell in the back of her primal brain. Predator, caution. She’d never felt that, around John. She truly believed he wouldn’t hurt her—as an extension of that, she supposed he wouldn’t date her either.

It was as endearing as it was infuriating.

An assassin with a conscience. Who knew?

It was just her luck.

As she made her way to the stairs a trio of men took up the breadth of the hallway. Unmistakably Eastern European, two veritable mountains of muscle, and a younger twenty something leading the way who was obviously their charge. He strutted like a rooster, so utterly assured. Ah, the delusions of youth, she found herself thinking to herself. As they passed she nodded politely, searching her memory from the rough rundown of the various crime families she'd received in what passed for orientation at the Continental, pulling a blank.

The young man in the lead possessed an interesting face. Brutal, if not handsome. An angular jaw, wide set blue eyes, and hair blond as snow against his health club tan. When he turned to watch her pass his bodyguards parted so as not to obstruct his view, a practiced motion that she was sure had been drilled with repetition. She felt the weight of his gaze upon her, but this wasn't her first rodeo. She ignored it and kept walking. 

Unfortunately, he spoke to her in accented English. 

“You must be the new Nurse everyone is talking about.” 

She turned, offering a polite smile. 

“I am. Pleased to meet you, Mr...?”

She could tell he wasn't used to not being recognized. His initial reaction was annoyance, tempered with some intrigue. The last part worried her. 

“Mikhail Ivanovich Medvedev, at your service.” With a hand over his heart he gave a little bow. It was far from sincere though, the chivalry of the gesture lost in the mockery of his smirk.

Then before she could stop him he took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.

When his eyes meet hers, a trill of fear ran down her spine. There was definitely something cruel about this boy. Something missing in his pale blue eyes.  

The Medvedev name she recognized. One of the major Russian syndicates. Ivanovich—son of Ivan, who was the boss. That made this cocksure young thing...the prince. It explained a lot. It did not make her feel any more at ease. 

“What a stunning new addition to the Continental you make. We are headed to the lounge. You should join us for a celebratory drink. Let us welcome you to our happy family.” 

“I thank you very kindly, Mr. Medvedev. But I'm working. A patient is waiting for me.”

“Too bad,” he said, shooting her a knowing look from beneath hooded eyes. “Some other time.” 

“Sure,” said Helen, hoping to never bump into him again. 

She had a feeling she shouldn't hold her breath on that one. 

“Until next time then, Miss...?”

“Mizz. Helen.”

Maybe it was silly, but she didn't want to give him her last name, common as it was. 

He smiled the way wolves smile at rabbits in the deep dark woods. 

“Helen. A beautiful name. Like in the movie, with Achilles. Brad Pitt. I have seen it.” 

She raised an eyebrow before she could stop herself. She hadn’t seen the movie. “The poem is better. The Iliad. By Homer.”

He waved it off, grinning to reveal a gold tooth. The open triangle of his shirt revealed numerous tattoos. “That bookish bullshit. I never liked school. You are beautiful. Take the compliment, eh?” 

She nodded, wary of the annoyance in his tone. He still had not released her hand. 

“Thank you.” 

He looked her up and down. “You get tired of nursing these old fuckers, I could give you a job in my club. You would make good money, with an ass like that.” 

She bristled, barely managing to keep her next words civil. “I'll...keep that in mind.”

She really wanted him to let her go. He smirked, as though he could sense her unease. Men like this thrived on it, she knew. Pumping themselves up by making a woman feel afraid. Boy, did she know the type. She wondered how much trouble she would get into if she kneed this fucker in the dick.

The twin mountains would probably punch her into a pancake. It would almost be worth it though.

Finally, he released her hand. 

“I will be in the lounge if you change your mind,” he called down the hallway. 

She lifted a hand in acknowledgment, but didn't turn back. The hair on her spine didn’t relax until she'd made it to room 523, where a seemingly very nice man named Marcus needed his ribs wrapped. 

She did three more calls before she found herself on the third floor again. A little voice in the back of her mind sang out, John is on this floor. She almost felt his presence, an acute awareness of his location. It was the height of temptation, to go knock on his door. Maybe she’d greet him with a kiss on the mouth, and see if he rejected her then, the honorable ass. 

Maybe she could guilt him. I joined the mob for you. She might have considered it, if he didn't already feel so fucking guilty as it was. 

She was tired, and perhaps she was a little careless, not paying attention like she should have been. As it was, she didn't notice the two mountains of muscle at the end of the hallway until she nearly bumped into them. 

“Gentlemen. Excuse me.” 

She tried to step around but one of them moved into her path. 

“Mr. Medvedev would like to see you, Miss Helen,” said one. 

“He is feeling sick.” 

“He has some...swelling, he needs you to take care of.” 

They exchanged a look and chuckled darkly, while Helen's heart dropped to her feet. 

Fuck.

She didn't have to look around, to know the hallway was deserted. It was the dead of night, nearly four in the morning. 

“I'm afraid I didn't get a work order from the front desk. Did you contact them?”

They snorted in response. “You are Continental nurse, and we are in Continental. You come now.”

So, no one would know where she was. Just peachy.

They started walking, herding her in the direction they wanted her to go. 

She moved her feet, not wanting to give them an excuse to put hands on her. 

All the while, thinking fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Had they been on the street, she would have at least had pepper spray to offer them. She carried nothing like that here. She hadn't thought she would need it. The rules of the Continental seemed so sacrosanct. Did Ivanovich think he was above the High Table’s law? Or did he just think she didn’t matter?

As they passed the door where she knew John Wick slept, she made a gamble. She reached out quickly and struck his door, two loud raps, before one of the toughs narrowed his eyes and shoved her along. She stumbled; that little blow felt like getting hit by a truck.

Bless him, but ten seconds did not go by before the door wrenched open behind them, and there was John, looking darkly forbidding in a half-buttoned black shirt and his suit pants. His hair was rumpled, as though fresh from sleep. The sight of him like this inspired a heady mixture of relief and desire low in Helen’s belly.

For just a moment, she forgot to be afraid.

“Evening, gentlemen.”

“Mr. Wick.”

A very uncomfortable silence descended upon the hallway. When John’s sharp gaze shifted to her she signaled him best she could with her eyes wide, mouthing the word, Help.

“How fortuitous. Ms. Helen, I think I pulled one of my stitches. Could you look at it for me?”

“Of course.”

She made to walk past, but Mountain One held out his arm. He wore a gold ring on his finger that she could have used as a bracelet. It bore the stylized likeness of a snarling bear.

“Miss Helen is busy. Mikhail Ivanovich is waiting.”

“I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

“Do we look like we care what you think?”

John took a step out into the hallway, subtly shifting so that they could see the matte black Glock he’d been concealing behind his thigh.

“You probably should.”

“You want to fight on Continental grounds? Is against the rules.”

“This woman is an employee of the Continental, Alexei, and by association, the High Table. If I kill you and Igor for disrespecting their associates, they will thank me for it.”

“They will kill you too.”

“Either way, you’ll be dead. Is she worth it to you?”

“Mikhail won’t be happy.”

“I will gladly have Winston revisit the rules with the little bear cub, if you like.”

One could have cut the tension in the hallway with a knife. They all knew to fight would be near certain suicide, yet perhaps they also knew that John Wick did not bluff. The sonofabitch was crazy enough to draw down on anyone, anywhere, if they crossed him. Unlike young Mikhail, Alexei and Igor were old school gangsters. They knew how to read the quiet parts, and that sometimes you took an out when it was offered to you. Live to fight another day. There was no shame in fearing the consequences of the High Table.

There was no shame in fearing John Wick either.

Igor, Mountain Two, made a waving forget it gesture with his huge hand. He said something quick in Russian to his compatriot, and Alexei seemed to relax a little. “Fine, Mr. Wick. We didn’t know she belonged to you.”

John remained silent, not contradicting the hired muscle’s conclusions, waiting.

Alexei made a sweeping gesture to Helen, who lost no time in speed walking over to John’s side. It made her feel slightly better.  

 After everything they’d been through, it was the first time John had actually seen her rattled. He made a subtle nod towards the open door, and Helen wasn’t too proud to retreat into his room without a look back.

“We will give Mikhail your regards.”

“Give him my warning. The Nurse is off limits. Be seeing you.” With a final glare John went back to his room and shut the door in their faces.

<< Chapter 2 Chapter 4 >>

#john wick #john wick x helen #keanu reeves #john wick fic #helen wick #john wick x helen fic #john wick the night nurse

[jaybird-fanfics]

Villain Roommate |Chapter Twenty Three|

You and Dabi made it back home, it was nighttime before you got there. The quietness of the empty street on the walk back only added to your already tense nerves. Dabi shut the door behind him as you both walked in. Dabi leaned against the door as he watched you walk further into the living room. "Well?" He started. "What did you need to talk about so badly?" You didn't face him, you couldn't. He took your silence as a chance to speak again. "Is this about Shigaraki? Did he actually do something to you? Just tell me and I'll go back there and-"

"Stop that." You suddenly say. 

"Stop what?" Dabi asks, confused. "Stop acting like you care." Dabi was only getting more puzzled by the second. "What are you talking about? Acting like I care? What's that suppose to mean?" 

"Why did you try and keep my quirk a secret? No, more than that, why did you not want me involved with the league?" You ask, ignoring his question. "Because you didn't want to be involved." He answered simply. It can't be that easy. There had to be more to it. Or was Shigaraki really just trying to get into your head? "Ok, how about this? Why did you tend to me when I was having a panic attack? You could have just let a hero find me, why risk getting yourself caught? What were you even doing there?" 

"Villain business. It just so happened to be near your work." Dabi explained. But he didn't answer the question you wanted the answer to most. "Why did you help me?" You pressed. You could hear Dabi sigh from behind you. "We've already been through this." Not good enough. So finally, you just decided to come out and ask. You turned around and finally faced him. "Dabi?" 

"Do you...like me?" You couldn't make out his expression. But his words came out dull as he spoke. "I really don't see the point in this." Frustration started to build as you tried again. "Do you or do you not like me? It's a simple question." Dabi stared at you for a moment. "I...tolerate you." 

"Is that why you tried to protect me?" You saw Dabi's harden expression falter slightly. 

"I guess you could say that." 

"Dabi, just please, give me a straight answer! Either you do or don't like me. And for fucks sake, why do you act like you care about me?" Dabi scowled. "Shigaraki did say something to you didn't he? What was it?" His words came out more as a demand than a question. "Dabi please-"

"What did he say?" Dabi cut you off. You sighed, finally giving up. "I'm an idiot." You murmur. "I should have known better. You don't like me, you don't care about me. You just want to use me. That's how it was in the beginning, that's how it always will be." You started for your bedroom. 

Before you could get far, Dabi grabbed you arm. You look back at him, tears brimming your eyes.  "I do like you." He said, eyes never leaving yours. "I helped you that day because I know how that feeling is. I wanted to help you through it." He continues. "And I never wanted you involved with the league, but I crossed that line by making myself present in your life. It's my fault things are the way they are now. The least I can do now, is try to protect you from the worst of it." 

You never thought Dabi could sound so sincere, so honest. There wasn't an ounce of lying in his tone, this was Dabi at his finest. Being open with you, letting his emotions get the better of him. He hated it. Why did you make him like this? 

"You have done something to me, something I can't explain. You're unlike anyone I've ever met before. And..." He trailed off. "

"And?" You ask. 

Dabi dropped your arm and leaned his head against your shoulder. You just stood there and let him do it. You didn't know why, and you didn't know why you rose your arms to hug him. Maybe you did pity Dabi. Maybe you felt the need to comfort him when the world has done nothing but broke him for a reason. You just didn't know anymore. Dabi was a complete mystery, and in some ways, so were you to him. 

"I'll figure something out." Dabi said into your shoulder. "I'll get you out of this." 

"Dabi." 

"Yes?" 

"Thank you." 

Dabi pulled back and looked down at you. "For what?" He asks. "For protecting me." You tell him. "You were doing it all this time, weren't you? I'm sorry, I just...I just wish I knew you a little better. I don't want to think of you as this one thing when you're another." Dabi looked away from you. "I wouldn't go that far. You're right to think of me as nothing more than a villain." 

"But is that really how it is?" You ask. "Your motive, why you're a villain, it's understandable. But, something happened to you, right?" Your hand found it's way to his cheek, he flinched slightly at your touch. But relaxed into it slowly. "Yeah." Dabi closed his eyes. Your heart ached. You could only imagine what had happened to him in his past. You knew it wasn't good, that you were sure of. 

"I wish I could heal them for you." 

"Hm?" Dabi hummed, his eyes still closed. "Your scars." You explain further. "I can't heal scars. Trust me...I've tried." 

"It's fine. Don't worry yourself over it. I know they're ugly but, I'll live."

"I never said they were ugly." You correct him. Dabi's eyes opened, he looked at you as if you said the most shocking thing in the world. "You..." Dabi couldn't find the words. "I'm no one to judge." You tell him. "I have scars I'm not proud of. But, never once did I think they were ugly. And yours aren't either." 

"Your back?" Dabi asked. He remembered what you said. You had quoted him by saying it's a reminder. He kinda pieced it together after this. You nod. "It happened when my mother died. I was too young to heal it then." Dabi's hands slowly moved up and down your back, you shivered slightly. 

"I did this to myself." Dabi said, referring to his scars. You gave him a surprised look. "Not intentionally." Dabi explained. "My quirk, it's unstable to say the least. The more I use it, the more burns I receive." You wince. What kind of quirk is that to have? It was unfair, getting burned just for using his own quirk. "It started when I was a kid, and just kept getting worse as I grew up." 

"I'm so sorry." You says softly. "Don't be. It's nothing anyone can help." 

"No. It's something I can help." You grab his hand. "If you ever get fresh burns, please, come to me. Let me heal them." Dabi's eyes soften. "You are something else, you know that? You're willingly helping a villain now." 

"I know." You smile slightly. "It's shameful." 

Dabi chuckled. "Sure is." 

You made good on your word to Dabi. Anytime he would get burned, he'd come to you. And you'd heal him. He couldn't understand the feeling he would get when your soft hands met his rough skin. How soothing your quirk was to him. How, for a just a moment, he felt peace when you did this. When you tended to him. It was a feeling that was new to him, no one had ever done this for him before. It was always him who tended to his own wounds. He never felt the gentle touch of someone who cared. 

And it made him feel...weird. 

He thought all sense of feeling were dead along with his past self. But, clearly that wasn't the case when it came to you. He didn't notice it until recently, maybe it really hit home when he saw the look on your face when you held his hand as you healed him. The look of worry, concern. For him, of all people.

His world came to a grinding stop when he realized what was happening. A sick feeling washed over him, no, not sick. He couldn't describe the feeling. But he didn't like it, especially if it meant...

"Dabi?" 

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "You're getting a little hot." You say as you look up from his hand. "Are you feeling ok?" Dabi moved his hand away from yours. "Wait, I'm not done!" 

"It's enough." Dabi said as he stood from the couch. "But-"

"I'm heading out for a bit." He said as he quickly made his way to the front door, he left in a hurry, leaving you alone and confused. 

Dabi could feel his heart beat in his ears as he walked. The coolness of the night air bounced off his ever growing hot flesh. He ran a hand through his hair, a shaky breath leaving him. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? His first instinct was to reach into his pocket and pull out a cigarette, though this habit was one he cut out a while ago. But god, he wished he had one right now. 

He couldn't take this. He couldn't handle this. It was too much. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, hands finding his way to his face. He groaned into them before dragging them down slowly. He couldn't believe this. Never in his life has he ever felt like this, or dealt with this. He didn't have to, he didn't ever have the need to. But this was serious, he was in deep.

Dabi, had feelings for you.

And it was terrible. This was a dangerous game he was playing. And there would be no easy way out of it. 

Previous | Next

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

[sparring-hyena]

winter.

in which weather can be profound and personal growth is messy.

OR, my own imagining of post-book 2.

-

-

they find each other later. much later. weeks and months later, really, during winter break. although, Poppy guesses, it’s not really winter break if they’ve both graduated and left their days at Belvoire behind them. it’s just winter.

so it’s winter when they find each other, somewhere in that awkward week between Christmas and the new year that doesn’t even feel like a real point in time. there’s snow and belated family gatherings and nights spent alone as a forecasted blizzard rips through the city.

it’s an odd kind of loneliness that settles in Poppy’s chest during that week, like she’s missing something so small yet so important and can’t quite identify what it is. but she pushes on. puts on a smile and pretends it’s all fine as she sits through a belated Christmas dinner with her parents.

and then, only when she finally manages to escape her parents’ brownstone just before midnight, when she steals a few quiet moments for herself in the candy aisle of the bodega that she felt compelled to step into, does she find AJ.

“fancy meeting you here.” the voice is familiar and pokes at those silly little words that have been rattling around her mind for months.

it’s always been you.

she bristles, pretends it’s unresolved hate that makes her react that way, and turns around to face the voice. “AJ.” clipped. neutral. good, no way she’s going to lose to AJ Hughes in the candy aisle of a bodega.

“just can’t seem to stay away from me, huh?”

“i could live a very peaceful life if i never had to see you again.” it feels like a lie coming off her tongue, and that gaping thing in her chest screams and begs her to take it back.

AJ clutches her chest and makes like she’s been hurt, but she smiles through it all and Poppy never wants to think about why she hasn’t stopped thinking about AJ’s stupid smile since graduation. and that stupid declaration. and that god-awful kiss that had left her shocked and speechless and her lips tingling with fiery— whatever.

“doing anything right now?” AJ asks.

“walking away from you.” and Poppy proves her point by turning on her heels and walking down the aisle. she holds her breath firm in her chest as she walks, and only releases it when she hears AJ follow after her.

“first of all,” AJ starts as she falls in step with Poppy, “i know you wanted me to follow you. and second of all” —she stops in front of Poppy, forcing them to stand face-to-face— “wanna grab a drink?”

-

so she grabs a drink with AJ. so what? no biggie.

except one drink turns into two, turns into three, turns into making out outside the bar, which, naturally, turns into fucking in AJ’s kitchen because they couldn’t make it to the bed.

no biggie.

-

Poppy braces herself for the cold and flees AJ’s apartment early in the morning.

she decides that that was the last time. no more running into AJ. no more grabbing a drink because what’s one drink between old university friends? because they aren’t friends, weren’t ever really friends. no, they toed the line between enemies and two people with a complicated arrangement who can’t seem to do one thing right even now!

so that’s the end. for the best, Poppy thinks to herself as she wraps her coat tighter around her body as the wind slices at her skin.

and she feels... okay about that decision. she knows, logically, that not seeing AJ again is for the best. but she also knows, less logically, that her bed is much too large, much too cold when she crawls into it that night.

-

she loses track of the days. gets lost in a dreadfully dull cycle—wake, eat, phone, shower, sleep, repeat. she keeps tabs on all her old friends through their socials, and starts to wonder if they were ever actually friends.

has she ever actually had a real friend?

she likes Chloe’s latest post—a photo of her on vacation in the Swiss alps—and then turns her phone off.

then those four silly words echo in Poppy’s head again.

a lie, she told herself as soon as AJ had breathed them into existence. and it had worked for a while, had tamped down the hope she allowed herself to feel bloom in her chest for just one moment, because she’ll never let herself hope again.

a game just like everything else, she tells herself now as she watches the snow fall from the dark sky.

and then before she knows what’s happening, Poppy’s off her couch and out the door as those four stupid, awful, annoying words chant in her mind.

she had made a note of AJ’s address when she left a few mornings ago. only so she could stay away and make good on that decision to never see her again. so it’s no trouble getting to AJ’s building—modest and nothing particularly exciting.

homey, huh? AJ had said with an air of insecurity as they’d stumbled inside a few nights ago and Poppy had paused their make-out to judge and look and absorb AJ’s new home.

she doesn’t know what to do now that she’s met with the reality of her late night decision. leaving would be wise, she knows, but she just can’t seem to get her legs to carry her away.

she slips inside the building behind someone else who’s too lost in their phone to notice Poppy, and rides the elevator up to AJ’s floor.

she knocks on AJ’s door, softly in the hope that maybe AJ won’t hear it and she can leave unnoticed and pretend this never happened. but then there are footsteps getting closer and Poppy’s heart beat drums in her ears and then the door opens.

“what’re you doing here?” AJ asks, her voice firm and eyes hard.

clearly a mistake coming here, Poppy decides and suddenly she wants nothing more than to be at home curled in her too large and too cold bed.

“i don’t know,” Poppy admits.

AJ nods, glances back over her shoulder into her apartment, and Poppy immediately thinks she’s interrupted something important.

“did you mean it?” Poppy quickly asks before AJ has a chance to tell her to leave.

“mean what?”

“what you said at graduation?”

AJ’s head quirks to the side, clearly trying to remember.

or maybe she does remember and she’s just trying to give you an out. trying to let you down easy.

but the words thrum through her veins and she needs an answer now if she ever wants to be able to carry on with life.

“when you said ‘it’s always been you’ did you mean it?”

AJ continues to stare and for the first time ever, Poppy can’t read it. or maybe doesn’t want to be able to read it for fear of what it will mean.

“did we actually hate each other?” Poppy now asks, desperate to just get some answers and keep AJ in front of her.

“do you think we did?”

“i don’t know.”

AJ nods and clicks her tongue. “maybe you should figure that out before you come knocking on people’s doors at midnight.”

AJ moves to close the door but Poppy’s quick to stop it. “no, no, wait. please.”

maybe she hears something in Poppy’s voice, because AJ pauses, waits.

“i know we didn’t hate each other. i know that. but i just… i wanted to hate you. i wanted to hate you so much and i don’t know why i couldn’t just hate you because your were everything i despised. maybe you know why because you always seemed like you knew something that i didn’t.”

AJ doesn’t say anything right away, and Poppy, for a moment, thinks she’s finally gone too far. that after everything she’s put AJ through, this midnight-doorstep-declaration will be what costs Poppy having AJ in her life. and then—

“i used to think you hated me, way back when we first met. i didn’t care, of course. i never hated you, even then, but i didn’t like you much. but i quickly learnt to see through everything you were throwing at me. i think you subconsciously knew that you needed me because i was so different from everyone you’d met before, i was challenging.”

“you weren’t challenging.”

AJ quirks her head to the side a playful smile pulls her lips up.

“maybe a little bit,” Poppy admits, and admitting something to AJ doesn’t bother her and she realises that it maybe never did. “but it was nice.”

“yeah, i thought so too. we were so different in a few ways and so alike in others. i think that’s why we worked… why we probably needed each other.”

Poppy sits with that for a moment, and thinks that AJ might have a point.

“my bed’s too big,” Poppy says, and she doesn’t know why she decides to admit that. “i just— i think i’m lonely and i think i miss you.”

“you think or you know?”

“i miss you and i need you and i wish i’d done things differently.”

AJ just stares for a moment and then: “a friend of mine is having a party for the new year tomorrow night, you should come with me.”

“really?”

“yeah, really. i think you’d have a nice time if you came and i know i would enjoy it more.”

Poppy’s cheeks turn a little red. “okay, yeah, i’ll come.”

and then they stand awkwardly at AJ’s front door, unsure of what to do next but desperate to not let this moment fade. AJ steps aside a moment later; an invitation, silent in its declaration but loud in the space between them.

Poppy smiles and steps close to AJ. she cups her cheek and says, “Thank you,” before moving inside.

#my writing #poppy min-sinclair #poppy x mc #playchoices #queen b

[snwusberry]

「 best friend 」

pairing: yeonjun x reader

warning(s): eating/food is mentioned, language.

genre: fluff

| Y/N |

"you're watching winx club again?" the voice of none other than yeonjun says in that judgemental tone of his.

"it's my comfort show." i tell him as he plops down next to me and starts watching it with me.

he always does this. he'll say whatever i'm watching is ass but then he'll watch it and start asking questions about what's going on. don't let that fool you, he'll say it's boring and that he's not interested. that's how he knows the whole plot of h2o.

"aww wait so she had to sacrifice herself?"

"yeonjun, just re-watch the whole season."

"nah im good thanks. i'd get bored." i roll my eyes at him. he clearly won't but i won't fight it.

"then stop asking questions."

"fine."

...

"why is it so hard for her to earn her enchantix?"

"yeonjun i swear to god."

he mumbles a small "sorry" before standing up to do whatever.

he returns to the living room with his phone and asks what i want for dinner. he's ordering takeout which he literally lives off of.

"uhhh...just order pizza, i don't fucking know."

he nods and walks off while i continue watching tv.

...

"DINNER IS HERE!!" his loud ass announces, bringing the two boxes of pizza.

there's no other way i'd wanna spend my saturday evening.

we've been friends since 10th grade when i came into the school all new, not knowing a single person. he saw how pathetic i looked sitting all alone everywhere i was so in pe he picked me to be his partner for the paired obstacle course. he just started talking to me randomly since then until he introduced me to his other friends and i just hung out with them everyday since then.

and now here we are in my apartment which he practically lives in. wherever he is, i'm there too and vice versa.

i remember one time he threw down shots of straight gin like he was drinking water and i had to nurse him after he threw up in the bathroom of some person's house we didn't even know. you can thank wooyoung for that. i guess you can say i've truly seen him at his worst, and lowest moments. of course i'm gonna stick by him through every moment.

"you know, i have an idea." yeonjun suddenly blurts out. i turn my attention to whatever he has to say, nodding my head to urge him to continue. "since my love life sucks, and your's is non-existent-"

i smack his forehead. well it's true, i've got no love life at all in the slightest bit. "mine might be non-existent but at least i never had a sam to deal with."

"hey, we don't mention them. that was horror." he pouted.

"you're telling me that. they were literally the worst. but love is blind i guess."

"haha, can i continue?" he deadpans and i motion for him to continue proposing his idea since i stuffed my face full. "you've got sauce all over your face."

he grabs a napkin and hands it to me. "thank you. go on"

"right. so let's say by like, 32, if we're both still single by then, then we should just marry each other."

i damn near choke. he said marry? "are you seriously proposing a marriage pact?" he nods his head.

"think about it, i'm not planning on ever leaving your side, like ever."

"damn right you won't, who else will be my equally sick inside the head other half?" i joke and he throws his head so fast and far back in laughter, damn near breaking his neck.

"and also, we're already soul mates anyway." he adds with a wide smile on his face.

ahh yes. we were labeled platonic soul mates by another one of our friends because of how close we had gotten in 12th grade. we knew each other so well already by then because we were practically attached by the hip.

"sure. i mean it's very likely that i'll still be single by then since i hate everyone. including you of course." he laughs before shaking his head

"yeah keep telling yourself that."

"you're right. i hate everyone except you. be honored."

"i am."

we continue eating while watching winx club together.

there's never a dull moment with him and i'm so glad to have him as my best friend.

another note: i'm trying to be as inclusive as possible to everyone for my one shots seeing that they are all x reader and you never know who's reading this so unless the mc is named, all of my one shots won't specify anything with regard to the reader.

#choi yeonjun #yeonjun #choi yeonjun txt #yeonjun txt #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun imagines #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together