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a-shared-experience · 10 months

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“I’m fucking serious! I need someone to get me the fuck out of here” I heard her scream.

I don’t think she was talking to anyone in particular and I watched the desperation rush through her body as she gripped her shaved head between her hands. She rocked back and forth on the pavement and I could tell she was in full psychosis.

She started threatening me , unprovoked. I looked at her and could tell it was best to just walk away. She didn’t recognize me, at least not in that moment.

I talked to her often. She always liked me because I brought her garbage bags so she could gather her sons laundry and take it to be washed. When he was found dead in his tent I sat with her and gave her water and food. She never left. She found a support system in the trauma bonded substance use in the inner city and for awhile I thought she seemed ok. For awhile she was mothering the most vulnerable. I remember one morning coming into work and a young lady was screaming at me to help her get glass out of her foot. She’d been attacked and there was blood and glass everywhere. I tried to calm her down and explain that it was out of my scope of practice and I’d likely do more damage than good. 20 minutes and the nurses will be here. She heard none of it. She kept screaming and the mother screamed back, “come here my girl, I’ll help you”.

I told the mother I couldn’t help due to legalities but that I could bring out supplies for her to do it because she’d be covered under the Good Samaritan act. I watched her soothe the young girl first by passing her a pipe, then when she was intoxicated enough she began removing the glass. A lot of times in outreach you have to find quick solutions that both serve the policy makers and the client. Everything is unusual.

She wasn’t the same person today. She wasn’t singing along to the radio or chatting with friends. Instead she was instigating violence with anyone who’d engage. Inside I tell my coworker to radio for security as I watch her cross the street and advance towards another angry woman.

It made me sad to think about how much suffering these women had come to know and how disempowering lateral violence would be.

The fact is, complex post traumatic stress disorder is a lifelong condition. One that I struggle with personally despite how grand of a support system I have, my access to education, paid employer benefits , an amazing therapist who has changed my life in such important ways and the coping skills to make better choices for myself.

The truth is , both women are indigenous and should have learned the beauty of what I’ve come to know indigenous culture and tradition to be. Instead we see horrific intergenerational trauma that is a continuation of our governments attempt to eradicate and assimilate an entire demographic of people who came before them.

I’m surprised by my own frustration with the lack of action taken by our current political parties. It’s like … white people keep expecting the abuser to change despite all that we know about abuse. Manipulation and gaslighting by way of fear mongering the media and brainwashing the community at large. Throw a photo of a drug seizure on the front page of the news so that simple folk believe that something is being done to protect their community. In 50 years we’ve never even made a dent in drug trafficking or drug use. This creates an illusion to make white parents feel safer about their perfect children. You arrest one drug lord and get a pat on the back in the form of a bigger budget for your police department while instigating a turf war in the illicit drug market. A war which usually includes brutality and fatality. May the scariest gang win. The demand doesn’t go away because the supply does which then leads to shift in supply safety. If you have less product following a major bust this leads to a variety of cutting agents to meet the need and make the money, which in turn is why we see mass substance poisonings province- wide.

There’s only so many people you can stand to lose, so many nights you can saunter sleeplessly in fear of armed robbery, erratic behaviours, sexual violence, assaults and severe weather.

Before taking a much needed vacation I had noticed ptsd resurfacing in ways which made me sleepless, hopeless and on high alert. I had the privilege to take time away , but they don’t.

There is no break from trauma. Typically the summer is known to be a better time for the houseless community but this just isn’t the case. These are people who’ve lost their jobs during covid, people with severe mental health injury with no connection since covid, people forced into houselessness due to the instability and availability of affordable housing, people who have been wrongly incarcerated for substance use and petty crime done out of absolute desperation to ultimately survive in a reality no one has prepared them for, people who are targeted coming out of our prison systems to join gangs or lured into sex trafficking, people who are severely addicted to poly substance use as means of coping with hopelessness, lack of adequate resources to meaningful and impactful pathways out of addiction, poverty, houselessness and traumatic injury ( both physical and mental), people who have no language around emotions and no life skills to deal with them. People who are sleep deprived, nutrient deprived, dehydrated, suffering a vast range of health issues which are untreated. People just drive by their tents and are disgusted that they have to see civil unrest. I think they too do not have proper language to articulate that it is not disgusting to be houseless, but rather, disgusting that we allow it in such a rich humanity. One where we are programmed to feel less than if we don’t have designer clothes, fast cars, big houses and hundreds of “ followers” watching our every move on social media- secretly loathing us if we have more than.

We expect the individual to heal and have no idea what they’ve suffered or the impact of the damage that’s been done. We have no concept of the time it takes to heal , nor how we suffer vicariously alongside and also go untreated, unhealed and pass our projections of ignorance onto others on a continuum of pain.

At the end of the day we help a young man who has a shattered contact stuck in his eye. We try our best but must insist they see an actual doctor. They don’t want to go and instead sit in a doorway of an abandoned establishment in agony. I understand… a lot of medical professionals are not trauma informed , they receive little to no training on addiction or the effects of drug use and rarely consider the consequences of expecting someone to abstain from the very thing which helps them exist within their reality.

Still, I am not certain who taught them judgement and shaming. Which part of their code of ethics allowed the grey area ? Had they not learned the psychological influence of shame on the human psyche ?

The toxic drug supply is equally as damaging as toxic ignorance. I truly believe we will only heal when we choose to heal together and when we make initiative as opposed to relying on our governments which have created systemic racism, allowed the housing crisis , food inflation, policy brutality, budget cuts to social services, failure to protect us from harm, creating classism, allowing targeted ads for harmful products and supporting forward movement in things like AI which further depersonalize us as the human race and divide us as individuals away from connection which we simply cannot exist without.

For what… money.

It doesn’t get better unless we get smarter , unless we change in ways which bring us closer instead of trying to push away problems we are all inherently susceptible to.

Without love, there will be violence and so much pain. How much more can we handle? How much money will it cost to pretend it isn’t happening at rapid rates in the places we call home.

What is home ?

I sometimes think we can only dismantle the homes of the houseless so many times before they come lashing out at our homes. After all, what makes us so deserving ? Because we work really hard? What if someday we can’t?

There’s currently a writer and actor strike because ai is being used to create television with technology instead of actual artists and creators , who’s to say a robot can’t do your job?

We all seem to believe we are far removed from the reality our most vulnerable face but truth is we are just as vulnerable. What makes you so important ?

Ponder it . I dare you

#housing crisis #housing crash #politics #toxic drug supply #lateral violence #systemic racism #power and control #money hungry #ignorance #human suffering

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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lavendertales · 3 years

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Cyare: Chapter 9**

pairing: Mand’alor!Din Djarin x Mandalorian!f!reader with name

summary: upon hearing something which puts a dent in his desires to be with you, Mando decides to pay you back.

word count: 4.2k

WARNINGS: some angst involved. Cunnilingus, fingering, blindfolding, slight dom!Din because he comes with his own warning.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @bestintheparsec

series masterlist | AO3

Through some miracle by the Maker’s holy hands, you got the best sleep you’ve had in months that night.

You woke up disoriented and barely had the strength to get out of bed, but when you realized it was way past sunrise and another heatwave was threatening to emerge that day, you found it in yourself to get ready and at least check in on the foundlings.

The adults often took turns in taking care of the foundlings and split the chores. Others would make their meals, others would teach them or train them, and that week was your shift for the latter. When you got into the kitchens, you noticed all the foundlings gathered around Rina and Mando. A smile broke from the corners of your lips as you slowly approached the table, listening intently.

“The Jedi man promised to take very good care of him, so I completed the mission,” Mando seems to be finishing a story.

“Did it hurt you to let him go?”

Mando hesitates, and you think he’s sharing the story of the Child. It doesn’t take much knowledge on the subject to understand how close to his heart that story is, and how much closer the Child himself was.

“It did,” Mando admits. “But I did the right thing, and I know he’s safe now.”

“Are you going to visit him at the Jedi temple?”

“I don’t think I am allowed to.”

“Do you want to?”

“I do. But—“

Mando’s visor stops on you, his heart fluttering shyly in his chest as he sees you smiling and looking at him. Your sole focus seems to be him, which is both flattering and alarming. He stands up as if to greet you, and the rest of the party exchange looks before shifting their eyes onto you.

“Good morning,” you say to them all.

“Good morning, Amara!”

“Hi,” Mando coos.

“Hi.”

There’s a moment of silence during which nothing else seems to be heard or seen, nothing but Mando’s figure as you stare at him. You hear your heart thrumming in your ears, threatening to bust from inside your chest, and you know you’re in big trouble. Anyone who feels like that around someone else is in big, big trouble.

Especially if that someone else is the Mand’alor.

“What’s going on here?” you ask nearly breathless.

Rina steps in, seeming pleasantly surprised. “Mando helped with the breakfast and the kids wanted a story from him.”

Again you look solely at him, brows furrowed with confusion but surprise alike.

“You helped out here?”

“Yes. I thought you might want to rest a bit more.”

Your heart flutters more and you gulp, hoping that act of desperation would calm you down, but naturally, it does nothing to aid you.

“He did a very good job,” Rina adds, rushing off the foundlings.

“They seem to really like you.”

Mando says nothing. He’s rather amazed himself that all those children are gathering interested around him and wanting him to share stories from his travels. But his travels are not quite child-friendly, so he figured the story with Grogu would be the most appropriate one to tell, regardless of how much it still stings.

“Uh—thank you,” you tell him. “It was my turn to help in the kitchens, but I must’ve—lost track of time.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll get a start on with the kids. For their training. I’ll see you out there.”

Mando’s visor is glued to your silhouette as you make your way out of the kitchens, helmet shifting in the slightest along his head when he turns to see you leave completely. Unbeknownst to him, Rina’s glare is just as enthused as she is; she chuckles silently to herself watching the bounty hunter now turned king fumble with the dishes and helping her clean.

“She’s very nice on the eyes, huh?”

That breaks the daydream Mando’s stuck in. He looks around slightly confused, but then he notices Rina’s playful smile and remains still. She raises his eyebrows suggestively but also somewhat understandingly.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one to get it bad,” she reassures him.

“I—I don’t—get what?”

“Amara’s really great. Has some issues, but then again, who doesn’t? And there were many interested in her since I’ve known her.”

Mando doesn’t know what to reply. Denying it would only make it worse and make him sound like a silly, blushing boy, which he ardently despises.

“But unless you’re serious about it, it doesn’t really matter how strongly you feel about her. So I suggest either get a grip on it, or move on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… there are certain rules and traditions, and you being the king, it complicates things even more. I think the consequences might even be worse in this case.”

“Consequences?”

Mando is genuinely lost, and Rina understands that much. She huffs and puts the plates down, approaching him with a concerned look on her face that he doesn’t like one bit.

“It’s a well-known fact that Mandalorians are very much family-oriented and loyal. But any relations outside marriage or committed partnerships are more or less… prohibited.”

Something gets stuck in his chest. It’s itchy and painful, but he can’t move. He can’t react in any way, not until he has more information.

“Not to say they can’t explore or have some fun, but usually it’s highly frowned upon and only traitors and the lowest of the low Mandalorians engage in such behavior. Most Mandos follow the Code of Honor, find a rightful partner and that’s it. But fooling around without a clear aim is… pretty much a no-go. We obey by that rule.”

Hundreds of thoughts flood Mando’s mind in the most savage way possible.

I’m a traitor. I’m considered a traitor, you told him.

Only traitors engage in such behavior.

And with the Mand’alor, no less.

His first instinct, the very first one, is anger. Disappointment and pain follow suit, cluttering in his heart and as they make their way up his throat to be expressed verbally, they get twisted into a tight knot in his windpipe.

“So it’s breaking rules if you only fool around without the intention of settling down,” he says eventually in the lowest and harshest voice possible.

“Pretty much,” Rina confirms. “Wait, you haven’t—you and Amara—?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

Rina exhales joyously but Mando’s rage only grows, the size of a hungry lion eager to pounce.

“But if you do want something serious, you should talk to her about it,” she encourages him.

“I don’t think that’s what she wants.”

“Okay, true, Amara might not give off commitment vibes, but if you tell her, maybe—“

“Thank you.”

He says nothing more to Rina and leaves the kitchens, without a single clear thought in his mind. He wants nothing uncertain, nothing impartial. He wants to be sure of something for the first time in his life, certain as the air he breathes and as the job he’s had.

The Mandalorian himself is restless.

Everything you had provided him with had been more than sufficient to scratch the itch, for a moment and one moment alone. But now, as he walked by you in the arena, training fiercely, new instincts had seemingly woke inside of him, rampant and begging to be released. He’s suffocating underneath the helmet, betrayal like a poisonous snake at his throat, allowing him almost no time to grieve or be hurt.

Grieve for what? Maybe all that time he’s spent around you, being taught by a liar and a self-made traitor when all he felt was a homey sensation, a sensation guiding him to a potential stable place with a stable person. To now hear that you had broken rules, one of the most sacred rules just for the sake of fooling around, maybe clearing your name and profiting off of his status—

The thoughts which come over to him make him sick. He tastes bile in his mouth, the bitter feeling nearly causing him to gag. Mando wants to believe you, he wants to believe you are not that kind of a person, but it’s no easy task. His mind won’t let him.

His visor is dead set on your silhouette, ever the same but in a manner of speaking, more tempting than yesterday. Or the day before that. His desires increase daily, consuming him. He takes a moment to himself to gather his thoughts and words into a coherent speech, although he is not so confident on his self-control at the moment.

He wants more. That much is clear to him. He needs more. He needs to see, to feel more and to touch more of you. but if you do not want the same, if all you ever did was simply break the rules because of how low you view yourself… the very least he can do is tie the score between you two. The very least he can do is call it even and resort to keeping things professionally.

“Amara. A word?”

Mando’s voice is betraying some of his nervousness, bits of it slipping through his otherwise husky voice. When you nod and instruct the foundlings to remain with another of the Mandalorians, he grabs your wrist – a combination of rough and delicate that throws you aback completely – and once the two of you are alone in the gardens, Mando takes a deep breath, trying to remember the topic of his complaint.

There is none to be found, none clear.

All he can think of is you. You, the so-called traitor of the Creed, you who had infiltrated his mind and his dreams, taking control over his body, mind and soul, bewitching him to the point of no return. He stands before you rigid, eyes fixated on you behind the helmet, pathetically trying to find the right words to express himself without coming off as embarrassing or weak.

But rage gets the best of him this time. He can’t keep it at bay.

“What is it?” you ask.

You didn’t tell me about the implications of what you were doing.

You didn’t tell me what the rules were.

You said nothing. You had your mouth on me and yet… you said nothing.

But Mando says none of that. He exhales sharply, tilting his helmet slightly to the left as he examines you further, but voices none of his actual frustrations.

“It’s not fair,” is what he tells you instead.

You frown. “What isn’t?”

“What you did… to me. For me,” he corrects himself.

You cross your arms at your chest, a coy smirk threatening to erupt from the corner of your lips and seeking to destroy Mando’s sanity altogether.

“And why is that unfair? How?”

You didn’t tell me about the implications of what you were doing.

You lied to me. You hid things from me.

I trusted you… and you put your filthy, lying mouth on me.

He leans closer to you. “I want to do that for you.”

He’s shocked himself at the bluntness of his words, although that was not what he wanted to say. Not at all. Or maybe it was subconsciously, but he is too worked up to think properly. For all intents and purposes, rationality would dictate that he should keep things as distant as possible and not care about anything else that you do which does not serve your purpose as his newly selected advisor. He should cut all other ties with you, end the madness you started in your insolent quest to soothe his nerves.

Yet all he needs to do is even things out between you and him. It’s getting increasingly clear that you do not want any more and that you never will, so his wishes and hopes for something more remain only that, hopes. An underachieved and unattainable dream to be had.

His boldness takes you by surprise, but you conceal it outstandingly well. You feel utterly shocked the more you rummage his words. The helmet puts a cold and rather cruel barrier between you and him, but you are glad. You wouldn’t want to see what the owner of the presumably intense glare looks like right now.

“What if I decline your offer?” you try to turn the odds to your favor, although trembling at the mere thought.

“I wasn’t asking. I was informing you. Tonight, my place.”

Still infuriated and yet eager as well, Mando walks away, unwilling to hear anything from you. He feels frustrated with the lack of information, information which you conveniently left out, and now he wants to do things on his own terms. He wants to have you just as vulnerable and exposed as he was under your touch, to offer you that same rush, but not as a thank you. He does not feel like playing nice or thanking you right now. His head is throbbing—as much as his cock, surprisingly or not—his ears are ringing and mouth nearly waters. It should not feel like this. It shouldn’t be like this.

You, on the other hand, fail to understand what has gotten into him, yet oddly enough, you don’t even question it. Mando is a very reserved man and you know better than to try and snatch information out of him when he does not feel like giving in.

The puzzle though is that you seek him out all the same. You watch him walk away, steps heavy like his mind, and you seek him out the same as you did days before, and the same weeks after this. The inexplicable connection which seemed to be drawing you close to him each and every encounter you shared practically dragged you to him, to his private quarters. Only this time, you were nervous. For the first time in many years, you felt incredibly nervous. Mando had made his wish perfectly clear to you, so you knew what was about to happen. But you could not prepare yourself for it. You knew he vehemently refused to show his face, clinging onto the harsh and strict Creed as if it would save him from something—from himself, perhaps—which meant he would not want to show his face to you. How would that work?

Too many thoughts are swarming inside your head and all you can do is wait for their chemical release and transformation into pure ecstasy and bliss later on that day.

The night came faster than you had anticipated. Your skin is tingly and burning the more you approach Mando’s suite, unable to hear or see anything else around you. The excitement is overbearing and it feels almost forbidden how good it is just to think about it, let alone do it.

You peak through the half open door and already spot him inside, clearing your throat to make him attentive but not startle him. Mando signals you with a single helmet movement to come in. You close the door behind you and stand there, stiff and slightly concerned for your own sanity as you examine him. He seems as composed as ever, but you figure that the things which he does not say—which he refuses to say—remain stuck in his brain, hurting him all the same. He was the sole creator of his own hell, and there was nothing that could stop him. Not even you.

He says nothing, and neither do you; though he stands up to greet you just like he did that morning, the mood in between you two is entirely different than it was hours ago. It’s no longer shy and curious, it’s a power play and it’s clear Mando wants to take the lead. So you let him. Hell, you even want to see where that takes you.

You inhale, preparing yourself to talk him through what suddenly feels like another mission to him, a steady procedure he has to go through, but Mando turns to you and simply says “Sit down.”

A part of you wants to fight him for said dominance and initially, you remain still, unwilling to move. Mando’s hunting instincts surely kick in because he turns to you again and repeats himself, sharper and clearer, “Sit.”

Taken by surprise yet again, you take a seat on the chair next to the wooden table and wait. Mando grabs from one of the drawers a dark piece of cloth which he rolls to make it thinner and moves to you, tying it around your eyes.

And just like that, your vision is taken from you and you become restless, breaths ragged and rapid.

“Are you—are you sure you want—“

“I know what I want to do.”

His voice leaves no room for bargain, no place for negotiations. You feel your pants and undergarments being dragged down your legs and the feeling of being bare and exposed before him causing you to shiver. Even that alone feels so good you could exclaim out loud, plead for him to have anything he wants. And it shouldn’t feel that way. Not that overwhelmingly good. You’ve experienced this before. You know the process, the sensation, albeit it had been a long time since you last felt it.

So then why the kriffing hell are you shivering with a barred pleasure?

But this has never happened under the hunter’s harsh yet tender touch. Not under the Mand’alor’s touch.

Mando’s gloved hands spread your legs apart and keeps your thighs in place for a while. The hot, somewhat sticky air against your core is enough to send heat throughout your entire body. He absorbs the image like it’s something precious and of great value. He’d never truly done this with another, human or not. It feels oddly intimate and private, uncharted territory for him, but he has a notion as to where that should go. It’s not that difficult. His instincts find a way around it, especially when all he can do is stare at you, spread out like that before him, inflating an ego he wasn’t aware he had, not that degree at least.

Mando wasn’t sure he even knew what pleasure was, what it meant, until you wrapped your mouth around his cock and brought him close to tears of ecstasy.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he mutters.

But you hear him. You hear him and you shiver, almost feeling your pussy crying out at how ardently you want him. He makes no movement and it’s driving you insane, but you say nothing. You endure it, you try to savor it as a buildup to something spectacular.

You hear a huff and a long exhale, and you reckon Mando’s face is now helmet-free and somewhere in your lower area’s vicinity. At least you hope it is because the determination in his voice had already promised you plenty before even doing any movement and you are agonizingly wet, which you refuse to show in any way.

Your mind gets blurry, making you forget everything you planned on saying to him, taunting words that might get him going good. But you show him faith in the way you’re letting him work you up at his own pace; you let him spread you however he sees fit, however he likes it, and you say nothing. You wait, as impatient as you are.

There’s a slight brush of a fingertip against your core, slowly rubbing your clit in circling motions and, behind the blindfold, your eyes roll at the back of your head. Fucking hell, it’s only a hand. A finger, damn it. It should not feel that sinfully and deliciously good, it was the bare minimum with the lowest number of fingers. And yet—

Your body goes rock hard against his hand and when he finally pushes through your soaked core, curling his finger, you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. You simply can’t. It’s vexing and toe-curling and you only want more.

Mando keeps rubbing your clit in circles and you’re dying to know if this was his first time doing that. It couldn’t have been; his motions are nothing but expert, hitting all the right spots and pressing the right amount of pressure. He doesn’t feel rigid, unlike your body. He feels relaxed and sure of himself, which you believe is by far another one of his successful personal achievements, one on the—presumably—long list of conquests he’s had.

You whisper something under your breath. You’re not sure what, but Maker, you could sit like that for hours. Just let him stretch you out and tease you, aiming for no particular spot, just exploring you wholly. But your hands start to get a little too restless as they aim endlessly in your surroundings, trying to grab onto something to hold, to pull, something to exert all of that pressure on and release it—

And when you find said something, you gasp and moan alike.

Strands of soft hair are in between your fingers as you pull, feeling a moan reverberate throughout your entire body and you realize, nearly jolting with pleasure and excitement, that it came from Mando. He was moaning into you, his head dipped in between your legs, and the realization makes you implode.

“Do what you w-wanted to do already, M-Mando,” you shake.

You tug on the locks of hair even harder when you finally feel a soft heat tearing down through you and your barrier to sanity.

You can nearly cry at how good it feels. Your grunts and moans in tandem sound like obscenities, but they are simply a result of craving. His tongue is like a boiler as it licks between your folds, gliding over your clit and daring to push past them, breaking in with sickeningly slow and wet gesticulations. You throw your head back in some sort of forbidden ecstasy and you smile. You smile wide as you’re practically on the verge of tears, with Mando in sucking you dry and rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb. Now he’s got a taste of your arousal, a personal taste, and you can call it even.

But not quite.

“Oh—oh, f-fuck—fuck—“

The combination of fingers and tongue all on your core and inside of you is maddening, absolutely gut-wrenching, and you feel heat form in your belly, burning you alive from the inside. Your breaths get shallow and unsteady the more he keeps going—and Mando is a highly dedicated man and hunter, you know that much by now—and you picture the obscene image of him on his knees before you, tasting and dutifully eating you out until he knocked out all of the air in your lungs. You want to see his mouth, solely his mouth; you want to see the way it reaches down in between your legs, the way his fingers, coated with your arousal, go to his mouth and he teasingly tastes them, one by one, right under your own eyes.

But that doesn’t happen. It’s merely a sketch inside your mind, one drawn in the throes of passion when you forget yourself and him, what you were supposed to represent, for one excruciatingly short moment. Instead, you arch your back and allow the exploding heat in your belly detonate and fuel your hectic movements against his mouth. You rub yourself against him in a desperate act to feel him more, and you ride out that incredible high he had gifted you with, unwilling to waste a single precious moment from it.

Things return to normal a while afterwards: his mouth and hand leave your throbbing core, the blindfold comes off and there he is once again, the mysterious and stoic Mandalorian, as impassible as you had met him. You feel completely shattered, drained of energy and every other element that made you, and a small fraction of your brain irks you. It pushes a small amount of disappointment to rush through you as you realize that he looks just as covered as always, appearing just as unaffected.

“You taste much better than I would’ve thought,” he tells you.

You don’t know how to take that. Whether he meant it as a compliment or a snarky remark, you nod at him understandingly and get dressed. You leave his quarters, heart seemingly not beating at all, but it doesn’t feel the same. You feel tainted, haunted by his touch. You helped him ease his mind and now he’s done the same for you. You were even. The debt was paid.

Only… you helped him twice.

You can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he wants to square things up completely. That would mean—no. Would he return? Would he do that again?

You could’ve lived without it. Why would you care what he chose to do?

No. It was different now. And it will remain so from now on.

You felt him, at his most vulnerable and intimate, tasted him, and now he’s done the same for you. It just got personal.

The rule.

It’s personal now.

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soundsgoodfeelslikeshit · 3 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Anonymous asked: Can i request where reader feels she's no longer good enough to be around the pogues because kiara doesn't like her and is jealous of how she is with them?

Summary: Kiara had always been jealous of Y/N, whether it be the way she looked, talked, carried herself, or the way she was perceived by the island. One thing Kiara could never get over was how she was with the other pogues. She had been around longer, leaving her closer to all of them making Kiara feel as though she was always missing some inside joke. After a night of drinking Kiara explodes, leaving an awkward tension between the group.

"Are you coming to the Boneyard tonight?" Joh B asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

"Uh, I'm honestly not sure. Promised I'd be home at a reasonable time tonight." You said with a slight laugh.

"Oh, come on what's one more day being out late?" JJ asked slinging his arm across your shoulders.

"J, you know how my mom gets when I break promises."

"Yeah guys, just let her stay home if she doesn't want to come. It's just one party." Kie said uninterested.

You shot a confused look to the guys and then looked at Kie.

"Don't sound so happy I won't go." You said with a laugh.

"No, no, no that's not what I meant at all," Kie said quickly.

"I'm just kidding Kie."

"But really, you should come if you can Y/N/N," Pope said as JB pulled into Kie's dock.

"We'll see."

..............................................................................................................................

"Y/N just let me know if stay at John B's tonight. I don't mind you going out, I'm gonna have an early night anyway." Your mom said.

"I will mom, I love you."

"Love you too, let us know if you need anything."

You nodded your head and headed to your room to change. You weren't exactly in the most party mood, so you just opted for a pair of sweat shorts and a swimsuit top.

By the time you had gotten to the Boneyard the party was in full swing. Everyone was drunk or having a good time with other substances.

You laughed to yourself as you went in search of your friends. Spotting JJ and Pope first you smiled and ran up to them.

"Hey, you made it!" Pope said hugging you.

"Yeah, my mom decided she was going to bed early, didn't want me to miss the fun."

"Well good, we're gonna have a bonfire after this back at the Chateau," JJ said.

"Alright cool." You said with a smile.

Your smile quickly vanished as your eyes laid on Kie, who was completely hammered and crying.

"Kie! What's wrong?" You asked quickly, helping the girl to sit.

"Like you don't know." She said with a bitter laugh.

"What?" You asked removing your hand from her back.

"Gosh you are so damn oblivious aren't you? You are what's wrong."

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you looked at your friends for help.

"Kie she didn't do anything." John B said coming to your defense.

"This is my issue! You all defend her and she has no faults does she?!" Kie screamed.

"Kiara, stop." Pope tried.

"NO! You can't tell me I need to stop! She's the reason you all make me feel like I'm missing something, some kind of inside joke. Little miss perfect everything makes me feel like I'm not good enough and never will be. I wish I could have the relationship she has with all of you, but that could only be accomplished by her having met you after me. Just another pogue born who met you guys first. I don’t like her.” She spat.

"Alright, I've had enough." You muttered turning to walk away.

"What? You can't stand to hear this because you know it's true? I'm sure you do it on purpose. You want the whole island to know of you like this cool, chill girl and that makes them think I'm stuck up because I'm not just like you."

"You sound so stupid right now! You don't have to be me, jealousy is a hell of a thing. If you listened at all while we were best friends instead of picking out everything about me that makes you feel terrible, you would know my life is far from perfect. I don't try and make you feel bad. Kie everyone has their struggles, especially with comparing themselves to other girls. This is by no means fair to just assume that you are the only one out of us who has them." You said and walked away this time done with the conversation at hand.

"Hey, where are you going?" JJ asked, running to grab your hand.

"I'm going home. I knew I should've stayed there. I'll see you guys tomorrow or something." You said with a sigh.

"No. She doesn't get to chase you off. She does not get the power. Let's go to the Chateau and lay down. I'm not letting you drive in this emotional state." JJ said looking at you worriedly.

He watched you carefully as your eyes filled with tears.

"It's fine J, go enjoy the party. My house is like 10 minutes away. I'll call my mom and have her watcha movie with me when I get home."

"I already know you were just going to sit in your room and ignore everyone for a week while you bottle up your emotions." He said taking the car keys from your hand.

You sighed and allowed him to help you into the passenger side. He gripped your hand after he got into the driver's side and began the short drive back to the Chateau. The conversation he tried to start quickly fell into an unanswered silence as you stared ahead at the road.

When your truck pulled into the Chateau's drive and JJ came and helped you out again even though you were more than capable of doing it on your own.

"Let's go get ready for bed." He mumbled against your ear, leading you to the spare room. You sighed when you knew the night would finally be drama-free.

"Want tea? Water? Beer?" JJ asked, causing you to shake your head in response.

You turned your back to JJ and unclipped your swimsuit top, bending down to grab one of his discarded T-shirts. Your shorts quickly followed suit of your top and you climbed into bed. Taking your phone you texted your mom to let her know you were staying at John B’s.

“Hey don’t shut me out,” JJ said reaching for your shoulder.

“I just don’t get it. I would never make Kie feel like that on purpose. I just I don’t know J.”

“Just try and get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Sound good?”

You nodded your head despite knowing you would go home tomorrow morning.

..............................................................................................................................

You woke up and groaned. You didn’t want to deal with Kie or have to face the tension she created in the group. Tugging JJ’s arm off your waist, you stood up and looked around for some of your clothes. It was a mess of things thrown around on the floor.

“Hey what’re you doin,” JJ asked sitting up.

“Going home,” you replied.

JJ’s face contorted in confusion before he climbed out of bed.

“Hey. Look at me.” He said as he grabbed your chin.

“J I can’t right now, okay?”

“She doesn’t get this power of you. We can all make our own decisions.”

“I get that but I need to go home and see my mom. I’ll text you guys I promise. Can you help me find some clothes though? This place is a shit show.”

He chuckled and dug around before tossing you a bra and one of your shirts. You pulled out a pair of your panties and your shorts from the night before and headed to the bathroom.

Once you were changed you went to the kitchen to see John B leaning against the counter.

“Sup,” he said watching you.

“Hey.”

“Where ya going?”

“Home. My mom was expecting me home last night but J wouldn’t let me drive.” You said pulling your shoes on.

“Just so you know there are no harsh feelings towards you it’s towards Kie for acting like that.”

You nodded and looked at the floor. You felt him embrace you and you reluctantly hugged him back.

“I mean it, so stop beating yourself up for what she said and what she feels, okay?” He asked pushing you to an arm's length.

“Yeah, I got it.” You mumbled, “I’ll see y’all later.”

..............................................................................................................................

After being home for a while you went upstairs to be by yourself since you’d sat with your mom for advice and to watch a random show with her.

Your phone was seemingly vibrating to no end when you arrived in your room. Picking it up you were getting a FaceTime call from the boys.

Deciding to pick up you saw them smiling at you.

“We couldn’t get you to answer any of our texts we thought we were gonna have to bust in your house,” Pope said with a laugh.

“Yeah sorry I left my phone in my room while I was with my mom. What’s up?”

“We wanted to have the bonfire tonight since it didn’t work out last night,” JB spoke.

“I’m okay, invite Kie though. Sure she’d love to have you guys all to herself. Maybe she’ll even replace my friendship.” You said sarcastically.

“Shut up, you know she can’t, it’s a different friendship between us and you and us and her,” JJ said with a glare.

“Ye-“ you started but you were stopped by your mom calling for you.

“Gotta go guys, but yeah won’t be able to make it out tonight. Love you!” You said before hanging up.

You sighed knowing that you were just making the decision easier for them by distancing yourself. If Kie didn’t like you and didn’t want you around you would be busy when they wanted to hang out.

..............................................................................................................................

A few weeks had gone by and you hadn’t seen the Pogues since the morning after the argument with Kie. You didn’t speak to Kie, but you occasionally spoke with JJ and the others every so often. Kie would never realize but you felt like shit ever since her outburst and you weren’t sure why but you didn’t feel good enough to hang around the Pogues anymore. It was obvious none of the other Pogues felt the way as Kie, they would have booted you from the friend group long before, but there was just the feeling that you could not shake.

.............................................................................................................................

Your days were pretty normal, helping your mom run her shop, surfing in the evening or in the mornings, fixing up various parts of your house, and sometimes going to the beach to relax and tan. This day however was not relaxing at all, all of the Pogues decided to make an appearance, Kie included. You looked in their direction before picking up your stuff and beginning to head home.

You were beginning to walk over the dune when Kie called out to you, causing you to turn and look at the girl. Folding your arms you waited for the group to approach. Kie greeted you with a smile, which you glared at.

"Glad to see you're happy you got what you wanted." You sneered at her.

"This isn't what I wanted." Kie defended.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's not. I gotta go," You said and turned away from her.

Kiara grabbed your arm and you began to pull your arm away from her.

"Do not touch me," You seethed, glaring at the brunette girl.

"What is your issue?" Kiara groaned, looking to the guys for defense.

"You are my problem, sorry to use your own words against you. You made me feel like I couldn't come around my friends, the people I treat and call my family because I make you feel like shit! Now I'm the one left feeling like they aren't good enough. So congrats Kie, you got what you always wanted! Them to yourself." You stated and with that, you walked away.

#outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #obx fic #outer banks preferences #outer banks imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks fics #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx cast #pogues x reader #pogues outer banks #pogues obx #outer banks pogues #obx pogues #obx preferences

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neonacity · 3 years

Text

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

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wisehq · 3 years

Text

Mission Debrief: Chapter Forty-two

...It's all coming together.

I'm just going to come outright and say it; I had no idea what to write for this review- not because there wasn't anything to discuss, but rather this chapter gave us so much that I didn't know what to focus on first. Chapter forty-two has single-handedly thrown open the doors to a hundred different theories, and believe me when I say that after a whole night of redbull and theorizing I couldn't come up with any clear answers (the folks over at the Strix discord group can attest to that).

So here's what we're gonna do; I'm not going to focus on the chapter itself.

It was cute. Cardshark Anya is hilariously awesome. Damian is a little shit (whom I adore), and the chapters where the kids can just be kids are- in my opinion- the best.

That's all I'm going to say on the matter. For the rest of this review, I want to go over all the facts we know so far about the story and setting. All of the things Endo has been slowly building up in the background and the pieces that we can stitch together from them, starting with this chapter. Two key things stuck out to me.

In the entirety of the story up till this point, this is the first time we have heard mention of a royal anything- and not only that, but this chef is a former royal chef. This of course implies that a) said chef was fired (not likely given that Eden wouldn't likely associate with someone who was disgraced like that) or retired, or b) that there is no royalty anymore. Ostania is a totalitarian state and the main power of the government- from what we've seen- lies with the ruling political party, i.e the National Unity Party, a.k.a Desmond's party. Such a political structure would have no room for royalty in a governing capacity, and therein begs the question; is there still a royal/noble class- albeit in a non-governing sense- or was it abolished sometime in the recent past?

Classical language is not proper speaking and diction like I had originally thought. Classical language is a specific term typically used to describe a dead language or dialect (think Latin, or Hebrew before it was revived). I find this particularly interesting because under no circumstance would a child as young as Anya know anything about a dead language unless- as Loid points out- she was exposed to it as a toddler. It would have had to have been when she was very young, as she herself doesn't realize she knows this information. This would mean she likely learned it from her birth family; Anya was old enough to remember the lab and scientists, meaning she became Subject 007 later on in life- otherwise she would have remembered knowing classical language.

These two concepts are incredibly important to keep in mind, both now and later on as the story progresses. We now know that a royal class plays a factor in the political game that Twilight and everyone else is playing, and we know that Anya knows information that she shouldn't know otherwise (even with her mind-reading powers). So where does that leave us?

Honestly, for the first time...I'm kind of stumped?

Let's look back at the story and see what else we can piece together- maybe there's something in there we can extrapolate for our purposes. Another clue to point us in the direction that Endo is seemingly funneling us towards.

From chapter forty-one

Franklin Perkins was a man who believed in making his country a better place to live. In his eyes and from what he saw, Ostania wasn't going in the right direction- but why? He blames his lack of money for his mother's death, and we see him hold resentment towards the government over socialistic policies. Wealth is something to be shared with others, not hoarded for ones self. That seems to be where Ostania's moral compass is pointing towards, but is that really the case?

From chapter 39

Mr. Green mentions that people have been fleeing to Westalis; from the way he says this it sounds like this is happening currently- not in the past- and people are going so far as to travel through a third country just to get to Westalis. Such a journey isn't without its perils, so anyone attempting to crossover from Ostania would likely be taking a huge risk in doing so. Not only that, but most of what we've seen in the story is Ostanians loathing Westalins...so what would compel people to do this in the first place?

From chapter three As Anya reads the minds of people gathered at a politcal rally near the start of the manga, we see their disgruntled thoughts behind her. There's multiple mentions of losing jobs and not having enough money- some people are even hungry. Most of these people blame Westalis for their troubles, though not the leader of the rally, ironically.

Also from chapter 3

We find out (and often forget) early on that there are multiple political parties in Ostania. Donovan leads the National Unity Party, whereas the political rally we see here is hosted by the Nationalist Party. The latter preaches peace with the west, but many of the people gathered reject this outright. This is important; the N.U.P is the most successful political party in Ostania, which means a majority of the country's citizens approve of their platform. If we're to assume the Nationalist Party's platform is to advocate for peace with Westalis, then we must also assume that the N.U.P stands for the opposite; direct aggression with the west.

From chapter 31 The Zacharis Dossier, though ultimately a bust, hinted at rumors that have permeated East and West since the start of the cold war. We know for a fact that human experiments did indeed take place in Ostania, so it also stands to reason that there is at least a kernel of truth to the claims of P.O.W (prisoner of war) massacres conducted by the west. It's a heinous crime, and also one that leads to another question; why would any country go through with it in the first place? In addition, piggy-backing off the former point;

From chapter 19 While Loid details Project Apple, he uses the word 'regime' to describe the former Ostanian government. The literal definition of a regime is a government, especially an authoritarian one (Oxfrod Dictionary). I won't highlight all the specifics of what is and isn't authoritarianism, but essentially the point I'm trying to make here is that the current Ostanian administration is still very much a regime. Donovan acts as the authoritarian ruler (or would-be ruler; we don't know if he's actively in charge or is looking to usurp power for himself) and continues on the legacy of the former government. We know for a fact that this is the case because Anya is only at most 6 years old, likely even younger. That would mean the experiments being run on her had to have been recent, which fits with the time frame that we established at the beginning of this rabbit hole- it also aligns with what we know about what Donovan has been doing on the back end of things. Those who have kept up with my reviews know what I'm talking about; gloom pharmaceuticals, the truth serum, OSO-R, etc. All of that, which then leads us to...

...right back where we started. So...what then? What can we conclude from all this? At least a few things;

Anya is tied to Desmond- either directly or indirectly.

Anya's past is also Ostania's past; she's familiar with a dead language that's no longer spoken, and there's definitely a reason why no one speaks it anymore.

Ostania is in a period of political and economic turmoil. This also comes on the heels of a (possible) former monarchy, and the struggle of a country willing to embrace authoritarianism so long as it means staying alive.

WISE and Westalis are not innocent in this game of chess with Ostania and the SSS, and more than likely have committed atrocities that may or may not be directly tied to Ostania and- possibly- Anya's past.

And...this is as far as I can go. I've hit a wall, as have other people I've talked to. We're still missing pieces to the puzzle. Endo will of course provide us with more clues and theory fodder as the weeks and months progress, but for now this is as far as I can go on my own. On the one hand I feel defeated because I can't come up with a meaningful explanation for everything and present it in a neat little bundle for you all to read, but on the other hand I'm thoroughly enjoying this. I'm more engaged with this manga and story than any other I've read before; I'm at the edge of my seat every week, and I'm sure most of you are, too. For now, I'll leave the review here. I find it fitting to leave it open ended, just as Endo did with Loid's self-imposed question. Hopefully, like him, we can find answers in the near future.

Also, BONUS...

...No fun panel with a snappy comment this time. Instead, I’m going to humbly ask for your help.

If you have any ideas about where you think the story is going, theories as to how everything fits together, or just really want to discuss the manga with other fans- please check out our forum and share with us. We’d love to hear what you all think; not only that, but a lot more heads makes theorizing both more productive and a whole lot more fun. Check it out if you have the time, or- if you don’t feel like clicking on any links- you can always leave a comment either on this post or send us an ask or message. Anytime, any reason, we’d love to talk SxF.

Again, thanks for reading, and we’ll see you all next chapter!

#spy x family #chapter forty-two

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heroofpenamstan · 3 years

Text

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy, @shellibisshe, @belorage, @honeysides, @strafethesesinners, @faithchel, @blissfulalchemist! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

#tag game #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #oc: get to know jo #oc: build a bicycle #my stuff #far cry 5 oc

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felassanis · 3 years

Text

Butch didn’t like it when people touched him.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t shake someone’s hand or accept a quick pat on the back. He didn’t dodge every fleeting touch like they were incoming missiles. But they were brief and short-lived. Often done with lack of conviction. He didn’t have time to wonder if a pat would turn into a push, if the person shaking his hand would keep holding on no matter how hard he pulled away. In any other scenario, long-lasting touches made him shiver. Made him itchy. Made him freeze in anticipation.

The last time someone held him properly...it was an unconventional situation.

It started with the bad kind of touching. His mother drank heavily on Fridays, excusing herself by saying Friday’s were her day off. As if her alcoholism discriminated between days. Butch knew his role when she wound up slumped on the floor was to get her up, tell her she could have her party in her room where it would be more comfortable. Never say it was because he was helping her, she hated the feeling of being weak and it was a sure fire way of setting her off.

This particular night. Wally and him got into a fight; not an uncommon occurrence between the two tunnel snakes but that didn’t mean it was no less severe. Butch wound up walking back to his room with a busted eye and feeling sore. Maybe it was selfish of him to pick Friday of all days to get on Wally’s nerves, but this fight had been a hot exchange of cruel words and violent hits. And finally ending with Butch with his tail inbetween his legs feeling crap about himself...

“You think you have the right to cry?” She said to him. Words slurring as spittle dripped from her mouth. He hadn’t been there five minutes, hanging in the doorway like he was intruding in on her, and already her eyes were burning with molten resentment. “What gives you the right?! You come home looking like that, bruises and cuts because you get into these fights. And you think you get to cry!?”

“I ain’t crying ma,” He mumbled, just wanting to get past her so he could crawl into bed. He avoids looking directly at her, partly because he doesn’t want to face her, partly because he’s trying to hide his black eye.

She laughed loudly, scoffing. Her whole body was slumped, her back against his bedroom door with limbs limp and unmoving like a ragdoll. Like the bottom part of her body was paralysed. Except her face; her face was expressive and constantly moving. Writhing like she was flitting between pain and ecstasy. Her mouth was twisted concoction of smiling and frowning, opening and closing as if she was speaking but no words - save for hoarse breathing - came out until she managed to form enough to yell at him.

“You’re always crying...always sobbing. You think I don’t hear you at night?” She snaps.

He swallows the thickening lump in his throat.

“You think I’m a horrible mother,” She all of a sudden stops laughing and now her eyes are wet with tears. “You make me the bad guy….” She wails.

Her jarring shift in moods urges Butch to hurry to her side as she holds her head in her hands. He was hesitant to get close, it felt like poking the tiger. However, that sharp pang of guilt ate away at him. He shakily reaches for her shoulder. “I don’t think you're the bad guy! Honest ma! Don’t cry, don’t cry…”

As if he had burned her, she lurches herself from his touch, pushing him back hard and she rises to her feet. “Of course you do!” He chases after her, stands to her level.

He has to try and hold her. Even though he doesn’t want to, the anxiety that she might shatter into a million pieces because of him if he doesn’t hold her tight overwhelms him. But when he tries to reach her she hits his hand away, then when he withdraws a little too quickly he can see the hurt in her eyes.

“Ma, please.” His voice breaks.

“Oh for god’s sake!” She shouts. He flinches, worried someone is going to hear her and come running inside. Making her worse. “Do you think you’re the only one suffering!? I’m a widow with a spoilt brat who takes everything I do for granted! You lie and fight and most nights you spend in a cell instead at home with me! I bet you prefer it there don’t you? Yeah, you prefer slumming it in a cell making your mother worried sick! You’d do anything to get away from me!”

“That isn’t-” It’s a few steps forward, hand tantalisingly reaching for her in one last desperate attempt to somehow calm her down. Then a stuttering couple of steps back as he hits hard against the cupboard when she launches her fists into his chest.

Before he can even process what just happened, before he can register the throbbing on the back of his skull, she’s running at him. Hands high in the air that collapse down on him with intense ferocity. She grunts as she hits him in the chest, the shoulders, the neck, the face. Hitting him where Wally had, sending the right part of his head exploding in pain as she does so.

“Ma! Ma! Stop! Please!” He begs her as he is backed into a corner. Holding his hands up to try and deflect the blows. Is it blood or tears that drip down his face? Each time he manages to grapple her by the wrists, his hope and her hands slips through his fingers, impounding him with another barrage of bawled fists. Then suddenly, the sound of fist meeting flesh stops and it’s just him breathing hard waiting for the next punch and slap.

He opens his eyes and Ellen is just staring at him. Her eyes are so wide he can see the whites of them clear as light.

“Get out,”

“What?”

“Get out,” She whispers. But before he can even will his body to move, she holds his face, fingers grazing against his cheeks and it takes every effort for Butch to not pull himself away from her. He’s so much taller than her, so much bigger too. Paul once told him he could easily defend himself, but is he supposed to do? Hit is mom? She has to extend her arms straight in order to reach him, yet he doesn’t dare move. He can’t. She stares at him intently, as if she’s searching for something. Then her eyes return to their dull haze and she lets him go. He breathes a sigh of relief, the space where her fingers were against his cheek feels cold.

“Get the fuck out, Butch,” She lets out a weary breath, then after a moment of silence she’s got her back to him and stumbles into her room. The hissing of the door closing is the last thing he hears as her steps dwindle into nothingness. Likely her finally collapsing into bed.

He does what he’s told. Gladly.

There’s a vent from the corridor that enters the Vault’s supply room. The very same room Ellen enters with someone from security after she’s slept with them in order to get another bottle.

Butch isn’t quite what security is looking for, so he squeezes himself into the vent like his life depends on it and sneaks into the supply room. Pocketing a bottle of whiskey and whisking himself from the room as quickly as he had entered.

The whiskey feels heavy in his hands. The inebriated fog already dulled his senses as he topples down the fluorescent lit corridor with the kind of fake confidence that makes him look like he belongs, so that not one soul will question the bottle in his hands - or the lateness for which he stubbornly stays awake. If anyone dared to, he fears he’ll wind up in another fight and it’s the last thing he wants. But he can’t trust himself to just walk away.

Nah, laziness and incompetence will do its job. Tonight he can drink himself blind and just try to forget about everything...

For a moment, all feels still in the Vault. As if Butch is the only waking soul inside of it. And he finds unsettlement at that imagery, of being alone with the silence. It feels like he’s been put inside a coffin and buried 12 deep under with a heart that still beats.

Then reminding him he’s not alone in these catacombs. Comes a couple of steps walking down towards him.

Butch expects security, then the vain hope that maybe his mother had come looking for him. But instead Butch sees James O’Shea, the vault doctor sauntering down the corridor with his clipboard. Looking about as rough as him as he seems to be on his way back to his office. Until their eyes meet.

James stops as Butch approaches. And he quickly spots the whiskey and the bruises.

“Keep walking, Doc,” He hasn’t the energy to even try and feign niceness to the teacher’s pet dad. James and Butch had never really had a conversation, not since they were kids and James patched up his scraped knee that his stupid daughter gave him. Butch didn’t really like him all that much, not because of his daughter...Butch wasn’t really sure what it was that made the Doc rub Butch the wrong way. But it was there.

“Did you drink any of that or just pour it on yourself?” If Butch had been a little drunker, he might’ve taken that as an insult. But when Butch stops just before he rams through James, he sees the man is smiling politely at him. It catches him off guard.

“C’mon son,” James says, tucking his clipboard under his arm and motioning to Butch to accompany him. “I can patch you up and you can sleep it off back at home,”

James goes to reach for his arm and it sets off alarm bells in his head. Home? Don’t have a home unlike you.

“Hey! Get off!” Butch yells, yanking his arms away so quickly that he loses hold of the whiskey. It goes spiralling to the floor, erupting in a loud crash as brown liquid bleeds all over the ground.

“Well that’s just fucking great,”

James steps away. “I think that’s perhaps for the best. You don’t need to go putting anymore of that in your system,”

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Butch confronts, turning on James with the same look his mother gives him. “That’s your fucking fault!”

“It’s nobody’s fault, just an accident. And there might be a lot more unless you do as I suggest. You don’t want to be wandering the hallways until security catches you, Butch,” James tries to rationalise, and in that moment Butch hates rational thinking. He wants to hit something.

“You’re right about there being another accident,” He grumbles, lurching himself at James.

He didn’t know why he did it. Just that every bone in his body was pushing him to assault James. Maybe to take his anger out the pacifistic doctor or to win a fight he knew he could win. Or thought he could win. With every intention of pressing James against the wall, Butch sees his world hurtle when instead his arm gets swung behind his back; his face coming at great impact with the wall that he swears one his teeth chipped. And lastly, something sharp presses into his ribcage, threatening to draw blood…

Butch doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as breath as he hears James’s teeth grind behind him; the man prods him further with the sharp object. “This yours?” He asks, voice burning in such a fury it could have drawn fire. And Butch realises the sharp thing sticking into his side is his ‘toothpick’.

Had he even attempted to get that out?! Or did James take it before he could?

He quickly nods, words being the last thing he could muster in this moment through his whimpering as his childhood rival’s dad, the kind soft doctor of Vault 101, has him pinned against the wall threatening to stab him with a knife. How could he even move that fast? Butch never even saw him coming. The guy had to be at least forty, with rickety bones that creaked. Butch thought it must have been the whiskey dulling his own reflexes. But he knew better...the doc had some tricks up his sleeve and he realised it too late.

“Considering you and my daughter are more often and not at each other’s throats you’ll forgive me if I take this,” James says, relinquishing the blade from Butch’s side. Followed by the sound of him putting it in his lab coat pocket. Keeping a firm hold on Butch’s arm till it was on the verge of its breaking point. Applying just enough pressure here and there that it makes Butch’s bone feel like it will snap and pierce his skin.

“Now, just what was your plan then? Mr Deloria?” He says, taunting him. Pressing his weight into him harder that it feels like he’ll be crushed between him and the wall.

Butch’s heart feels like it is going to burst from his chest. Is he going to break my arm? He’d know exactly how to do it, being a doctor and all. “N-Nothing,”

“Nothing? It didn’t look like nothing. It seemed like you were trying to assert some dominance you think you have,” James starts, talking loudly in Butch’s right ear. “Throwing your weight around like some playground bully. Well, I won’t be pushed around, Butch. And if you ever try something like this with me again, or I find out you used this switchblade on Gwen, I’ll do much worse than break your arm do you understand?”

Butch nods.

“Good,”

James finally releases his hold on Butch, and not another second does Butch quickly bring his hand to his face. Trying to hide himself.

“I didn’t touch your face will you-...Butch?”

Butch doesn’t turn around, just presses his forehead to the wall as the tears flow freely again. He really was a mess, getting into fight after fight. With Wally, with his mom, now with the Doc. Whether it was all the bruising on his body, the high from the danger of a knife being pressed against him or just the alcohol yanking all his woes out of him like stabbing a water bottle. Butch can’t stop the tears that fall freely. No matter how hard he tries to bite the inside of his cheeks till they bleed, or how he slightly digs his nail deliberately into the bruise on his eye. Any kind of sensation that might distract him from crying is all for nought as sobs wracked his body.

He can feel James standing there. Unsure of what to do, unsure to touch him or not. After that debacle, Butch might just headbutt him if he tried. And yet, he feels a hand press on his shoulder, as if to stop his back from heaving as he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Butch tenses at this, like his whole body has suddenly been strung up.

“Does the clinic still sound like such a bad idea?” James suggests.

Butch breathes in a shaky, hot breath. He just wanted him to go away. “The hell’ you talking about? I don’t want anything from you,”

“You can either look like this in the hallway, Butch. Or you can come with me to the clinic before anyone else sees,” He explains calmly and so matter-of-factly. Knowing fully well what Butch was going to do before Butch even did.

At this, Butch thinks about the fact that the man basically offering him sanctuary was the same who had just held a knife to his ribcage a minute ago. Which causes Butch’s tempation to storm down the hallway flare up like a rash. Hell, he was tempted to try and start another fight with him again, if his whole body didn’t feel like it was on the verge of collapsing. God, he was so tired, he just wanted to lay down. But storm off where? He couldn’t go home, and he couldn’t sleep in the Vault’s hallways. He’d just get shooed off by security like an unwanted cat, or hauled into a cell till morning. And James had his blade, not that he probably needed it to deck Butch anyway, but he did want it back. Plus, he obviously knew he was crying, and what little dignity Butch had urged him to go somehwere private until the wrong person saw Butch Deloria bawling his eyes out. Last thing he needed was Officer Gomez spotting him. So he nods slowly at James with puffy red eyes. The clinic at least had beds and the two men headed further down the hallway. Out of sight as they duck into the doc’s clinic.

He half expected to see nosebleed in the clinic; waiting patiently for daddy-dearest to clock into the clinic so they could go home or whatever. But he was grateful that Gwen was nowhere to be found. The clinic was quiet and - was it always this white? - with the medicinal aroma of antiseptic.

“Sit on the bed,” James doesn’t even look at him as he heads over to a set of drawers. Pulling out some equipment. Butch does as he’s told and heads over to one of the clinic beds, sitting on the end and tugging on the sleeve of his Tunnel Snake’s jacket.

Silence except for the doc’s rummaging through a metal drawer. Butch thinks this silence will suffocate him; feels it on his skin like a weight. Why was the doc helping him? Did he think he made Butch cry? The fucking gall if he did. Been through enough shit that I don’t cry at, ain’t about to let some doctor bring the water works. I can’t believe he thinks he’s that important to make Butch Deloria cry. Pull yourself together.

James comes back with a blue cloth, some bottles and some wipes.

“I can’t do much for the bruising,” He begins, handing Butch what appears to be an ice pack wrapped in fabric. “But I can at least clean the split lip. Though that whiskey of yours might’ve numbed it enough already,”

“Cool,” Butch mumbles under his breath. What was he supposed to say?

When James leans in to dab his lip with the cloth, Butch looks away so they’re not looking at each other; unable to stand that calm, almost stoic expression on the doc’s face. He should be angry, why wasn’t he angry?

“Why are you helping me?” The question had to be asked. What was the doc after with this special behaviour? He’d done absolutely nothing to warrant it, and if he had his way beforehand, he’d be sending the doctor into the clinic on a stretcher.

James breathes a sigh through his nose. Like he was trying with all of his might to remain composed.“Because I am a doctor,” Telling himself his duty was more important than knocking some sense into a dumb kid.

“Oh yeah? Do doctors normally learn how to move like that?” He counters, looking at him now. It was still unbelievable to him how fast this old bag moved. “I want my toothpick back by the way,”

“You’re drunk and much younger than me, Butch. Is it so surprising I was able to subdue you?”

Butch winces as his lip stings from all the contact. “Where’s my toothpick?” He asks again.

James rolls his eyes. “Evading the question, spectacular way to try and save your ego. And you’re not getting it back,”

Butch flinches away from the doc’s fingers, looking outraged. James didn’t seem bothered, done with padding his lip anyway as he sets the cloth back down.

“You can’t just take it, it ain’t yours old man!”

“Oh? Do you want to try and win it back from this old man?” James stops sorting his equipment. Looking Butch dead in the eye with an unreadable face; he was still - almost frozen - so suddenly unmoving that it felt like if Butch so much as breathed wrong the doctor would spring to life and knock him down.

He again diverts his gaze away from the man muttering a grumbling “Whatever,” Until suddenly James begins to chuckle aloud. Catching him off guard. “What’s so funny?”

“I sometimes forget you're just a kid,” He says and it’s like he is seeing Butch for the first time ever. And he looks utterly conflicted. “That your not the single greatest evil my daughter has to face; just some poor kid covered in bruises and trying not to cry in the hallway,”

“Is that meant to be funny? You find that funny, doc?”

“No, Butch. I don’t find it funny at all, it's downright tragic is what it is. You’re obviously struggling and yet no one pays attention. Your behaviour is an obvious cry for help and yet everyone leaves you to be security’s problem. And it builds up till your bumbling down the hall drunk and afraid,” James’s smile falters, dying on his lips as he gives Butch a sympathetic look that makes him tense up. “I’m sorry for hurting you,”

“I mean, I probably would have kicked the shit out of you,” Butch rationalises.

“Maybe, but I shouldn’t have leaned into you so hard,” Butch holds his breath when James goes to continue. “If I told you to go home right now, where would you go?”

It was an odd question, but Butch decides to answer it honestly. “Probably walk around till Officer Gomez or one of his lackeys pulled me into one of the holding cells,” His voice sounded so frail, so fragile. Hardly above a whisper.

“Not home to your mother?”

Butch raises the ice pack to his eye. “No,”

Processing his words in his head, Butch can imagine what is going on his head as his eyes look over the bruises, the cuts and red eyes. Tying his inability to go home like he was tracing red string on a conspiracy board.

“Butch, did your mother give you those bruises?”

He should have expected that question but still his heart rate spikes. Mind floundering in a shallow sea of excuses and explanations; yes and no? Only a few of them? But I deserved it, I came home late and she was worried sick. She was teaching me to be more punctual, to not take her for granted? But will I ever learn? No, so I get hit again and again. Because nothing gets through this thick skull of mine. I’m the thing from a poor marriage she can’t get rid of, I’d beat me too.

Beatings at home, can’t even escape ‘em when I’m with the Tunnel Snakes...or in a cell.

“Come here, son,”

That did it. That three lettered word pulls the plug on his dam of tears and Butch can’t find the strength to pry James from him as the man envelops him into a half hug. His arm around his shoulders like a cloak as Butch holds his wet face in his hand.

It didn’t make Butch want to crawl out of his skin when James held him. Rubbing circles into his back as he just remained present while Butch shamelessley cried. Once, Susie Mack had tried to pull him into a hug during their school graduation; it was like she was covered in muck. He couldn’t think of anything possibly worse than remaining in that embrace for much longer. Even when Paul - poor Paul - tried to grasp his shoulder after a rough day, Butch shrugged him off. Afraid the guy would break into a million pieces if he held onto Butch - a bull in a china shop - for much longer. Even touches that meant no harm or violence felt like the first inch of a bawled knuckle right before it knocks you off your feet.

But with James...Butch couldn’t deny it was exactly how he imagined as a kid his father holding him in childhood fantasies of his dad coming back to the Vault. It felt safe. For the first time in the Vault, Butch felt fucking safe.

“If you ever need a break, or just someone to patch you up. My clinic is always open,”

“Thanks,” Butch sniffs….

--------

“That sounds like him,” Gwen says. Wiping her cheeks free of tears. Not for long, as more replace them as she looks at Butch fondly. “God, it really does,”

Butch smiles, tracing circles on her knuckles. “Course, now I know where the hell he got those moves from. Your old man must have been quite the scrapper when he was out here,” He comments, looking out briefly to the scene of the Wasteland - coming up with made up scenarios James O’Shea must have found himself in. The pacifistic doctor; an unscrupulous Wasteland mercenary hauling out the drunks from the Muddy Rudder and punching slavers - before returning to Gwen. “He was a good man, Gwen. He had a good life, and he helped those around him. He’s not gonna be forgotten,”

Gwen nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

He looks at Gwen who stares off sadly towards the shallow grave he helped her dig. Putting in her dad’s lab coat - all that was left of James O’Shea - in place of a corpse. A small, wooden cross sticking out from the earth to mark the gravesite. He looks at the girl he loves - but is too much of an unworthy coward to admit that to - and sees the same compassion, the same empathy her dad had in her eyes. A girl who just wanted to make things better.

And like both O’Shea’s, he felt better off for having them in his life.

“Time to finish what he started?” Butch asks, his grip on her hand tightening. Not wanting to let it go anytime soon.

Gwen asserts a look of pure, burning determination. Like she has slipped on a mask.

“Yeah, let’s finish what my dad started, together,”

#fo3 #fallout 3 #butch deloria #james fo3 #lone wanderer #butch deloria x lone wanderer

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #francisco 'catfish' morales #okay but frankie was actually baby #frankie morales #triple frontier #god i'm really posting another fanfic before bed and dipping i love y'all #fanfiction #pedro pascal #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac #oc #ofc #original character #original female character #fanfic

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overly-b · 4 years

Text

F*ck a Cheater - Chapter 1

In which you get cheated on, and the Pogues help you through it, and a certain blond seems to be there for you the most.

Warnings: swearing, cheating.

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: I have never been cheated on so I apologize if some of the feelings and emotions are a bit inaccurate to how it really feels to be cheated on. And if you have ever been cheated on let me tell you real quick hunnys you deserve so much better than someone who doesn't love you 100% unconditionally, so truly, fuck a cheater.

not my gif

JJ was never a huge fan of the tall brunette that you called your boyfriend, and he could never quite pinpoint an exact reason. He seemed like a good guy, he treated you well, he got along with all of the Pouges, and he made you very happy. Despite those facts, the blond had a disliking for him. John B would tell him that it was because JJ had a crush on you ever since you met, and still wasn’t able to let go. Deep down JJ knew that his feelings were disrupting his getting along with your boyfriend, but he had a hunch that he was simply up to no good.

After an afternoon out on the HMS Pogue, you announced that you were heading to his house. He had called you this morning, telling you that he had been feeling sick all night and could not make it for the day out on the Marsh. He insisted however that you went and had a good time with your friends. You pushed back of course, wanting to take care of your sickly boyfriend, but he wanted you to have a good day, so to appease his pleads, you went out on the water with the Pouges, telling him that you would call him when you came back to shore.

You drove your beat up jeep through to his neighborhood, picking up some of his favorite foods for him. Upon pulling into his driveway, you found car that you had never seen before. It was a newer model vehicle, making your old car look worn and wasted. You assumed that his parents had company over as they often did.

However, entering the house you found it absent from parents and company. You made your way up to his room, calling out for him softly twice. He must be sleeping, you thought to yourself. You crept up to his door and knocked gently, pushing it open.

You found him sleeping as you suspected, however what you didn’t expect to find was lying next to him. Lying on what you had claimed as your side of his bed was a naked, raven haired girl that you had recognized from a few parties.

You gasped at the sight before you, dropping the bag in your hand. This woke him.

Rubbing his eyes of sleep, he found you in his doorway. He stared at you blankly for a moment, muttering a string of swear words under his breath, not making any effort whatsoever to even beg for your forgiveness. You turned quickly on your heels. “Y/N wait” You heard him grumble as you flew down the stairs, tears stinging in your eyes. You paid no attention to his attempt to chase you and made your way to your car. You harshly started your car, throwing it into gear and nearly crashing into the other girls car on your way out. You watch him stumble out the front door as you pull away, yelling for you to hear him out. You did nothing of the sort, and you didn’t plan on it.

You were hesitant to go back to the chateau, not wanting to face the reality of what you witnessed. You had been cheated on, how pathetic. You were crying profusely, even more pathetic. You felt stupid, pathetic, angry, worthless, and everything in between as you drove with blurry eyes around the island.

You landed at John B’s, like you knew you world eventually, and considering that you nearly crashed twice, you felt you were no longer okay to drive. You found the group of friends sitting around the porch as the sun began to set. They noticed that your car had pulled in the question was why you were back so soon. They got worried when you didn’t exit your car right away. They watched as you sat in the driver's seat. You had no idea what to do with yourself.

Rather than going to greet the group like you would usually, you hopped out of your car slamming your door with raging force, and walked to the end of the dock. You stood there for a moment, hearing rustling behind you as your friends watched your movement.

“Y/N?” You heard John B’s confused voice call out as you stood at the edge.

“What is she doing?” Pope asked the group as they all stared at your back.

“Should we go out there?” Kie thinks out loud.

“Maybe just give her a minute, she didn’t come to us right away for a reason” JJ tells Kie, knowing that sometimes you prefer your time alone. All of the sudden they heard your booming yell.

“Fuck!” You screamed out to the open water, drawing on the word until you ran out of breath. “Fuck.” You say again as a whisper to yourself, trying your hardest to blink back the tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in front of the Pogues, not about something as pathetic as this. You got cheated on, you shouldn’t be upset, you should be angry, you should be pissed. But how it stood, you were both, caught in between seething with rage and cowering in tears and depressive thought. Your hands ran through your hair, pulling at the roots as you knelt down to sit, your breath no longer supporting your standing.

By this point, the Pogues were running to you. You leaned back against the post of the dock, tears falling to your lap.

“Y/N what's wrong?” JJ was the first to reach you.

“What happened?” Pope questioned.

“What in the world was that?” John B refers to your screaming in a joking manner before realizing that you were breaking down in front him. “What the fuck Y/N whats wrong?”

“Guys cool it.” Kie waves them back as she sits down next to you, pulling your head to her shoulder. “Give her a second.”

The three boys quieted down, Pope deciding to sit next to you in silent support. John B and JJ backed up, leaning on the rail across from you, giving you a moment to cry it out with Kie.

“He fucking cheated.” Your voice was scratchy from the screaming, so Kie was the only one to hear your confession.

“Oh my god.” She sighs.

“What?” Pope asks, not hearing your low voice clearly.

“He fucking cheated!” You exclaimed, anger taking back over. “I found him in bed with some fucking kook!” Your tears continued to stream as your watery tone sounded loudly to the boys.

“Motherfucker” John B mutters, pulling at his hair and slumping to sit against the post.

“Oh, Y/N” Pope was at a loss for words. He couldn’t tell if you were more sad than angry, so he elected to rub your back instead. “I’m so sorry.” Was the only thing he could come up with.

“What a fucking douche bag!” John B exclaims. “Y/N he’s a piece of shit,” He states. “He’s a piece of shit and you deserve so much better than that son of a bitch piece of fucking trash” By the end of his sentence his voice had risen in volume due to his anger. He was pissed, and increasingly so. It wasn’t until Kie gave him a subtle sign to stop that he had noticed his words were not as helpful as he thought. You were back to crying on Kies shoulder, more upset than you were mad. “Sorry” He whispers, backing off once again.

“It’s okay.” You sniffle. “I just don’t know if I’m at angry yet. I mean I am but,” Your words trailed off and Kie squeezes you into her shoulder. You peer upwards realizing that JJ has yet to comment on the subject at hand. He stands quietly with his arms cross, eyes ignited with pure resentment.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

And with that short sentence, he walks towards shore with the intent of assault glinting in his eyes.

“JJ wait-” You weakly call after him, however your voice falls short of how you intended, coming out as an odd whine, and turning into a sob as you watch John B chase after your blond best friend.

“JJ” John B starts. “JJ stop”

“Unless you’re coming to help me, I don’t want to hear it John B.” JJ groans.

“Don’t make this worse” John B reasons.

“Make this worse?” JJ bursts at his friend. “He cheated on her! On Y/N! Our Y/N!”

“JJ I’m right there with you buddy, and if you wanna bash his face in I’m in but, we gotta give her some time to process this. She needs us to be here right now and us going on a rampage is not going to help her.”

“Fuck.” JJ mutters, knowing that John B was completely right. “So what the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t fucking know dude, she says shes not angry yet, so maybe we should just like, let her be with Kie for tonight and, yeah I have no idea I’m so pissed off how is she not pissed bro?” John B rants as he thinks about what you’re going through.

“She won’t stay down for long, and if I know Y/N, I know she’ll get mad real soon.” JJ huffs. “God what a dick. She can’t be upset for long right? She’s smart she’s gonna realize that hes a good for nothing son of a fucking bitch and shes gonna bounce right back.” The blond talks to himself, pacing the porch in front of a now sitting John B. “How could he do that to her? How could anyone do that to her? Does he know that he just lost the best fucking thing that he’s ever had?” His arm swings out gesturing to you still sitting on the dock with Kie and Pope.

“At least now, you can actually tell her how you feel.” John B propositions slyly.

“What the fuck are you talking about man?” JJ shrugs his friend off, not wanting to think of his feelings for you.

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

JJ thinks for a few moments.

“Even if there was something there,” He pauses, knowing that there indeed was something there, at least for him. “I couldn’t tell her. Not now, she's dealing with way too much for me to just drop something like that on her.”

“You’re right.” John B agrees with him, happy that he finally admitted to it, and slightly proud that JJ knew he couldn’t ambush you with all of that right now. The two angry boys knew that they had to do everything that they could to be there for you, even if it meant that they couldn’t bust that prick's face.

That night, you had fallen asleep with Kie in the spare bedroom of the chateau. You didn’t talk to the boys all that much, however they made it clear that they were here for you whenever you needed them. You woke up feeling numb. Your cheeks felt tight as you had fallen asleep crying. Kie wasn’t next to you, so you assumed you had slept decently late.

“Okay so, what are we gonna do?” Pope asks as the Pogues minus you stands around the kitchen.

“I think that she just needs to feel normal. We should just try to make today as normal as possible.” Kie explains to the boys.

“Is she gonna wanna go to the Kegger tonight?” John B scratches the back of his neck.

“Maybe, it might be a good distraction, but there's a chance that he could be there.” Kie ponders the idea.

“Okay so what if we find something else to do to distract her?” JJ injects. As he says so, the door to the spare room creeks, stamping out the conversation. You drag your feet out of the room to find your four friends looking at you expectantly.

“Um, morning?” You state more as a question, not loving the confrontation. “What are you guys doing?” You raise a brow. When they all state different answers, you knew they were talking about you. “Subtle” You mumble. “I’m gonna shower.”

After spending a good hour in the bathroom, you felt somewhat normal. Your eyes no longer burned from crying and your face was no longer stained with makeup. You looked tired, but nothing more than a late night could explain that.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being shouted from the front of the house. “Y/N!”

“Fuck.”

It was your ex.

Taglist: (tagging some mutuals, hope thats okay!) Message me or send me an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist!

@midnightmagicmusings @midnightmagicmusingsmain @myrandom-fandomlife @maybe-maybanks @sarahroutledge

#jj #maybank #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #obx #obx netflix #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks fanfic #jj fic #jj imagine #jj x reader #fuck a cheater

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junquisite · 4 years

Text

Master’s Pet : Introduction + Preview

PAIRING : Mafia Leader! Seungwoo X Mafia Member!OC X Mafia Member! Seungyoun

GENRE : Mafia smut AU

WARNING : Mature content, mention of violence and firearms, implied sexual content.

further warning for each chapter would be provided.

Word Count : 1.8k

Han Seungwoo - the man who can fulfill all your requests but at a certain price. You just have to to know the right people and the not so right people and the certainly not right places to hang. Most people who have had Seungwoo do something for them have never met him. This is how he works.

There are three people through which you can ask him for help.

Kim Yohan - the man you can find in any high class parties or lounges - as long as there would be good food and good booze, you'll find him there.

Lee Hangyul - the one probably easiest to find. The club he runs is the biggest in Seoul, he's always there. You just need to know how to get his attention - either you must have a lot of money or a girl he wants. Place your best bet, he gets both.

Kim Wooseok - the hardest to get. You need to have an appointment to see him. Go to the hotel he runs, ask the front desk to see him. If you're lucky, you can see him in the same month.

The Coaescie Group, or more like the front for the mafia which owns both the hotel and club has the Owner as Kang Seungsik who manages the front of the mafia. The CEO who is loved by the public and feared by the people who wrong him. An apt representative of the Coaescie gang. The perfect personality for the public’s eye but the tattoo at his neck states otherwise.

The Coaescie gang - dealing mainly in drugs and assassinations - has more than a 100 people working under it, most of whom have never met more than 1 main gang member. One of the main 21 gang members.

The one at the top - Han Seungwoo. Most feared and most respected - a name known in the underground as an equal to god, you never wrong him, it'll always have its consequences. The leader of the gang.

His right hand man - Cho Seungyoun. The one through whom all messages to Seungwoo goes through. Specialises in close combat, uses his Glock and is equally familiar with knives. Been with Seungwoo since the start. Known as the "Sadistic Torturer" - can torture someone for days to get something out, success rate of 99% in extracting information.

His other jewel - Cha Jieun. A sniper user with a success rate of 100%. Equally strong in close combat and weapons, prefers knives, especially her trench knife. Is the youngest in the gang but third in lead after Seungyoun. Seungwoo picked her up from an alley a few years after he started. Had barely spoken more than three words with anyone. Known as the "Soulless Killer" - shows close to no remorse or expression when killing.

The gang members share one house which is well equipped with bulletproof windows and walls, a basement completely furnished with a shooting range and training rooms, another room containing all sorts of weapons and a floor even below holding the prisoner and torture cells. It was just them 21 members and a couple of trustable servants who were paid just enough to keep their mouth shut, and obviously their family’s life also depended on their secret keeping so.

There were a few unspoken rules in the house. You don't talk with Cha Jieun unless you absolutely have to. She remained secluded either in her own room or Seungwoo's. Seungyoun was the most approachable person in the house and you can talk to him about anything.

The biggest unspoken but followed rule was - you never question what Han Seungwoo does. Or with whom. So it was never questioned why Jieun was found more easily in his room or office then her own room. Why his office was off limits for everyone except Seungyoun. What relationship more than a simple gang leader and gang member, did Han Seungwoo and Cha Jieun shared. You don't question these things nor do you talk about them, at least in the house. No one could stop Hangyul’s mouth anyway.

The other thing is, after Han Seungwoo, you never question Cho Seungyoun about what he does no matter how readable his face is. Because he never shows what he's truly feeling - you can never trust Seungyoun’s facial expressions. And he’s the loyalest of all members - he had never gone against Seungwoo’s order even once, ever done anything that might be disliked by him. He was the epitome of loyalty. So no one but Hangyul, because he has zero fears, has ever called him out on his extremely apparent attraction to Cha Jieun. No one knows if it was his utmost loyalty to Seungwoo overpowering him or his potential fear from him that he never once acted on his possible feelings. Nor has he ever paid any heed to Hangyul’s extremely invasive questions and given him the satisfaction of letting him see any slip on Seungyoun’s facial features. He has denied any attraction to Cha Jiuen - all 11 times that Hangyul has asked him.

But wooseok was the smart one. He notices things that Hangyul the loud mouth doesn't. Like the way Seungyoun sometimes joins Jieun in the dining area at her table when she’s home and how caring his every action is. How his eyes linger a bit too long on Jieun whenever she sparsely is seen. How, whenever, Jieun stays too long in Seungwoo’s office, Seungyoun stays distracted and his eyes keep on wandering to that door. How he had seen Seungyoun, on multiple occasions, checking Jieun’s room when she is home but not in her room and sighing and looking longingly at Seungwoo’s room’s direction. He had seen it all. And he was sure Hangyul’s accusations actually hold some weightage. But he was not dumb enough to voice that. Wooseok was the third person to join the gang, after Seungyoun and in all this time he had never seen Seungyoun lose his temper. But he was close to betting that it would happen soon.

Seungyoun might go on his missions but he always has a few tasks fixed. Like how he only owns the keys to all the rooms of the house including the basement rooms so his first task every morning is to open those rooms. And how daily before sleeping he has to report all the things to Seungwoo. Seungwoo has told Seungyoun multiple times that he trusts him enough that he doesn't have to tell him every detail but Seungyoun does. He feels better after telling him and believes that the leader should know every detail - he was Seungwoo’s eyes and ears and the brain must always be aware of everything.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. He knocked on the office door and entered at the soft ‘come in’. Seungwoo was as usual sitting on his chair behind his desk, a file opened in front of him, a smile on his face as he looked at Seungyoun. Seungyoun had often wondered why Seungwoo didn't decide to establish himself as the face of the group when he had such a charming face himself but he never questioned it.

“Anything new?” was his first question as he looked at his side, one of the doors to his bedroom which was attached to his office slightly ajared and whistled lightly.

“Song Yuvin got busted and he needs us to hide his whole stash till then.”

“Didn't he tried to run off without paying us last time?” Seungwoo asked as he stared at Seungyoun, business face on and they both heard the bedroom door opening. None of them looked at it.

“He did. I have raised the price to double and the condition is that he has to pay 3/4th of it front up tomorrow. If he can, then we’ll actually do it. He’ll be meeting Yohan tomorrow.” Seungyoun finished and he finally saw who it was that walked out of the room.

Cha Jieun who walked from the bedroom to Seungwoo who was signing his hand for her and she didn't even glance at Seungyoun, she went straight to Seungwoo and sat in his lap.

Seungwoo pushed his chair back slightly and adjusted her so that her face was hidden in his neck and he started running his fingers through her hair.

“Anything else? I'm sure you can manage Yuvin.”

“Nothing Sir.” Seungyoun said stiffly and turned around.

“Seungyoun-ah” Seungwoo trailed off and he turned around and saw Jieun peeking at him too. This was new.

“Can you bring a glass of water for Jieun? I would ask the staff but no one is here now and I don't have any water in my office.” he said and Seungyoun nodded.

He was bringing the jar of water and the glass to the office and with gritted teeth, swore. It was not the first time something like this has happened - multiple times situations like this have arisen which had left him wondering if Seungwoo knew everything and was slowly testing him. Testing his breaking point because lately it feels like the scene he walks in on or witnesses keeps on worsening.

Last time he came to his office, everything was normal and Seungwoo was behind his desk like always. Except after staying in the office for a few minutes he heard someone choking and finally looked down at the desk - the slight gap between the desk and floor showing small feets meaning someone was under the desk on the other side. When he looked up at Seungwoo, he just smirked at him. Seungyoun had spent half an hour at the training room that night after that.

He knocked on the door and instead of Seungwoo’s deep voice, Jieun’s soft voice asked him to come in. and he finally took in her sight after a few days - she was on a mission for the past 4 days. She still looked as good as ever - although her arm had a bandage on which meant a sniper kill turned into more during the mission. He wanted to ask her how it went but she looked tired so he decided to leave it till the next time he sees her, preferably in the dining hall.

She took the glass of water from him and thanked him softly and he took that time to scan her for any other injury she might have and that's when he saw it. She was wearing a huge shirt, probably Seungwoo’s, and he was hoping there were shorts underneath it. But when she raised her hand to drink water and the shirt went up, it was not a sight of shorts that greeted his eyes but bruises. Thighs littered with small bruises and bite marks and that was not all - there were hand prints and grip marks. He really did not wanted to dwell on that any more than necessary so he was about to leave when Seungwoo came out of the bedroom and said, “aah Seungyoun-ah! Whenever you go outside can you drop by some pharmacy and buy some ointment? Jieun bruises easily.”

Seungyoun really didn't had to know that. And he really didn't wanted to hear it from Seugnwoo.

#victonwriters #victon smut #x1 smut #seungwoo smut #seungyoun smut #victon #x1 #victon imagines #victon scenarios #x1 imagines #x1 scenarios #seungwoo #han seungwoo #cho seungyoun #seungyoun #victon seungwoo

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cruecifymesixx · 3 years

Text

Love and Leather /Part Eighty Sixx/

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Enjoy! sorry the updates aren’t as often like they were before. I’ll try to do better

Warnings: angst, drugs, language, drug induced paranoia

Taglist: @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @a-simple-salmon, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @vintagebox @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, , @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @broke-n-bitchy, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @herbertweeest, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @sleepyjunhong @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @youretheonlyonewhomakesme, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 @rocknroll--baby @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

Nikki held my hand tightly as we walked through a crowd of photographers. Quickly, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him, my hand darting up to his chest, fingers intertwining with the layered rosaries and the same padlock necklace I had gotten for him years prior.

I heard Nikki mutter a curse word when photographers screamed for pictures and a quick word. Nikki declined but allowed them to take pictures of us. We were at the album release party and there was already a buzz about the music. Mainly because they wanted to see if Mötley could do it without Vince.

We walked inside hand in hand before he quickly let go and put distance between us. I frowned a bit but quickly perked up when Alan Kovac came up to him, "Nikki! Congratulations man." He gives him a quick hug "All the hard work has paid off. C'mon let's celebrate." He's quickly pulled in another direction, I see him glance back at me before he starts talking to Alan and the other suits. The record label, the marketers...those people.

I sigh deeply as I walk over to the open bar. At least I had an excuse to go shopping and get a new dress. I order a vodka soda with lime as I sip and people watch. I didn't know half of these people and I'm sure Nikki felt the same way. I should have just stayed home with Arianna however I wanted to make an effort in supporting him like a good girlfriend should do, or whatever I am to him.

Ever since my date a few weeks ago, Nikki has been extremely distant. I know he wants to talk about it, and I do too but we both don't know how to bring it up. So the best thing we know how to do is ignore it and act like it didn't happen. Therapy was a bust the other day too, we sat in silence for forty five minutes. How much longer can we keep doing this?

I get tired of sipping through the plastic straw and toss it to the side, chugging the rest of it before putting the glass down and ordering another one. The bartender tries to make small talk, I brush him off and leave before walking over to the VIP area where the band is. Cigarette smoke from John and Mick hit my face, I would usually say Tommy too, but he's trying to quit before the baby gets here.

I sit down in the red velvet chair besides Clementine, "That's a pretty dress. Where'd you get it?" I smile at her.

She leans closer to my ear, "I got it at Target."

God bless Clementine for not being like the other wives and girlfriends.

"It's probably the last cute dress I can fit in for the next six months. I've already been gaining weight."

"I think it's just you stress eating and not pregnancy weight." I smirk as she flips me off and playfully hits my shoulder, "What are you drinking?" I point at the red liquid in a martini glass.

"A virgin cosmopolitan." She points at mine, "Vodka soda?"

I nod, "Double the vodka." I glance seeing Nikki come over, he eyes the spot next to me before changing his mind and opts for sitting by Corabi instead. I look at him a moment before looking back at Clementine. Her eyebrows raise in question as I take another long sip.

"Let me just take a guess, he's bitter over your date with Jon?" Clementine questions as I roll my eyes, "He needs to get over it. This was the deal, you both date someone else and decide if it's what you want. It's not that hard to comprehend."

I chuckle at her words, "You would think right? The only time we talk is at the dining table with Arianna and who's doing pick up duty. Other than that, there's no interaction. I even walked around the house in my underwear and one of his shirts and he still wouldn't talk to me."

"Have you tried being the bigger person?"

Well, obviously that would be too easy.

"I don't know why I have to be the bigger person. He's the one that's all cranky about it. I stopped giving him shit for Donna after their second date. He just doesn't like when I play his game better than him, he never has." I express to her as she chuckles.

"God, you two are a match made in hell." Clementine laughs, "Forget about all of that tonight and just have some fun. You're kid free and it's an open bar. What more could you want?" I glance at Nikki as she follows my gaze, "That's beside the point!"

I smile a bit, "I'm fine Clementine. I'm here and I'm having fun."

"You're always just fine, Van."

I glance, "Because I'm fine. I'm good." I look over when Nikki gets up, holding his cell phone to his ear before he disappears into the crowd, "I'm gonna go use the restroom. Maybe get another drink and some food. You hungry?"

Clementine chuckles "Do I even have to answer that?"

I nod, using her knee as a crutch to get up. I squeeze past people before I get to the restrooms, seeing the line and groaning. I eye the men's bathroom for a second, not seeing a single line or a dude walk through the doors. I clear my throat walking past dirty glares and eye rolls as I walk into the bathroom.

"Oh fuck.." I turn around seeing Corabi taking a piss, "I'm sorry John."

He laughs a bit, I hear the noise of his zipper before the flush of the urinal, "It's okay. There's nobody in the stalls." I nod quickly, walking into it. God, men are fucking disgusting. I squat over the toilet doing my business as I hear him wash his hands before repeated sniffing. I hear him mutter a "shit" before more sniffing. I flush the toilet and step out seeing him using his car key to take a bump.

"You want some?"

My mouth runs dry and the angel and devil are arguing on my shoulder, "I didn't know you used." I step over paper towels on the floor and go to wash my hands hearing him sniff again before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just socially. Helps with my anxiety." He responds monotone as he looks at me through the mirror. I see his eyes wander down the backside of me as I reach to dry my hands.

"Does Nikki know?"

"Why? You gonna tell him?" I shake my head and he smiles, "Good girl." He offers the bump to me as I stare at it.

C'mon. Just go ahead. Look out how little that bump is. It won't do anything to you.

I shake my head, "I'm okay John. Thank you though." I step to the door but he steps back and leans against it, "I should get back to-"

"Nikki?" He laughs, "Arent you two fighting right now? He's bitched about you for weeks now."

"John, you don't know what you're talking about. We're just having a disagreement." I stare at him, watching him sniff the white powder again.

Go ahead. Just say yes. You know you want too. C'mon, what's the big worry?

John laughs at me as he shoves his curly strands out of his face, "I guess dating other people is a pretty big disagreement."

"It's what he wanted." I raised my voice, becoming stern as he smiled at me.

"Hey sweetheart. It ain't any of my business." John snorts one last key bump before closing the vial and puts it back in his pocket. He grabs the door and holds it open, "Ladies first..."

My feet stay planted as I stare at him, he raises an eyebrow before closing the bathroom door, "One bump and that's it." Johns lips tug upwards as he pulls out the vial, "And you don't say shit. It stays here in the bathroom or I swear to god I will ruin your fucking life."

He doesn't say anything in return just a simple chortle as he dips the silver key into the vial. I hold a nostril close as I snort it up quickly. The whiz going straight to my head. I feel my heart beat throughout my body and the goosebumps rising on my skin cause me to shiver. I try to rub away the irritation, sneezing repeatedly right after, "Thanks.." I see that he holds out another one I sigh and snort it in the other nostril.

John chuckles as I wipe my face. He opens the door and follows behind me.

I feel Corabi's hand rest on my lower back as he gets us back over to the bands section. I stop walking seeing Donna sitting next to Nikki, her tan legs draped over his knee as she clutches a fruity drink with an umbrella. She's whispering in his ear and he laughs at whatever she said. His hand is placed over her knee, rubbing up and down her bare thigh, fingers pulling on the bottom hem of her skirt.

I glare at them, feeling my wrist being pulled on as my name is being shouted over the music, "What did you say?" I look at Clementine, eyes low and hazy as she stares at me.

"I said...what took you so long!?" She shouts a bit, dragging me over to the booth as I can't take my eyes off of them. Donna leans over and kisses his cheek and jaw as he as the biggest smile plastered on his lips. I feel my chest heaving up and down as I try to find a solid breath of air to suck in. Clementine touched my cheek to bring me back to her and away from the looming panic that was slowly rising.

"Sorry, the bathroom...the-the uh line was really long." I stare confused again as I now hear Donnas high pitched laugh over all the other noise. Why? Why was she here when I'm here? When he held my hand and held me close when we got here?

"And no food?" Clementine laughs. How could she be laughing? Does nobody see what's going on? My eyes widen when Nikki gently grips her throat, his thumb running over her skin back and forth as he kisses her. His eyes stay opened and locked on mine.

"Why's he doing that?!" I shout, startling her as she turns to look at what I'm yelling at.

"Who? Whose doing what?" She asks confused, staring at me concerned, "Vanity? Hey! Look at me!"

I can't rip my eyes away, Nikki smiles at me when she kisses his neck and touches his exposed chest, "Don't you fucking see her kissing him?!?"

"Whose kissing who Vanity?! Jesus Christ are you drunk already?!" She pulls me to the side but I try to fight her, "Vanity! Stop!"

"Nikki!! He-he's just!!-" I try to get it out, but my words are a jumbled, slurred mess.

"....is getting his picture taken with the band?" Clementine says in my ear as she points over to them. Huge smiles on their faces as they hang off of one another laughing and yelling as flashes from cameras go off.

I blink a few times, staring. Nikki sees me and waves at me. I look over to the couch, no one was there, "What?" I say quietly as Clementine grips my arm and drags me out the back doors. I feel relief wash over me as the cold air hits my skin.

"What did you do?" She shoves my shoulders, "What did you do Vanity?!" She shoves me again until I'm leaning against the concrete wall. I feel the world spinning around me, Clem is a distorted mess as she yells "What did you fucking take?!"

"I-I didnt..." I can barely focus on the three of them that were standing in front of me "Oh god..." I mutter as I run my hands through my hair.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" She shouts, "You look sicker than a fucking dog and your eyes won't stay still!"

I rest my hand at the base of my throat, I felt like I was choking on nothing as I try my hardest to focus, "B-blow! I had some blow in the bathroom! A-and I-I think I'm h-having a bad reaction!" I stutter over my words, trying to keep my tears in.

"Yeah?! You fucking think?! God Damnit." Clementine groans as she paces around before grabbing my hand "C'mon-" she tries to pull me back inside.

"No! I can't go inside! Not while he's with her!!"

"What?!" Clementine stares at me, eyes narrowing, "What are you talking about? He's not with anyone-"

"Yes he is!! I saw them!" I flinched, breathing rapidly when Clementine cupped my cheeks, "I-I saw them. And they were kissing and he was looking at me to make sure I was watching!! Why would he do that?!"

"Van-Vanity hey! Hey! Listen to me-" I shook my head as she forced me to look at her, "Nikki is not with anyone. You're just seeing things and none of it is real. It's just your mind making you hallucinate. None of it is real-" She repeated, "Let's go inside and try to relax, alright? We'll get some water and some food."

"None of it is real..." Clementine nodded as I shook under her hands, "Okay..."

*Clementine’s POV*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!!!

I held onto Vanity's arm, feeling her tremble as we walked back inside. Her jaw muscle was clenching and unclenching repeatedly. I looked down at the crease of her elbow hoping to find a prick mark from a needle but there was none. I guided her back over to our section as she plopped down on the couch, hunched over with her head between her knees.

"Okay. C'mon, you gotta sit up or someone's gonna ask questions." I told her as she leaned back against the cushion, pupils blown with greens and golds lit up around them, "I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna get us some water." Van looked panicked but she quickly nodded.

I glanced at her one last time before walking away, seeing the guys at the bar. Tommy smiled, running up to me and giving me a kiss, "There you are!" He cheered, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Hi baby." I leaned up to kiss his cheek "I'm just getting some water for me and Van.." I tell him, he yells at the bartender to get one water and one Jack and coke, "Tommy..."

"It's too early for her to be drinking water." He whistles loudly and yells for Vanity as loud as he can, "Go bring her over here! She needs to celebrate too instead of moping around." He laughs a bit, "Vanity!!" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

I glance seeing her watching, she slowly gets up...well stumbling up as she comes over, "Jesus, maybe she does need a water..."

"Tommy...she fucked up.." I say in his ear as he looks at me.

"Well yeah! I'm sure she is a little fucked up by the way she's walking." He laughs loudly again and I grow frustrated with him.

I grab his arm and pull him closer to my height, "No Tommy. She fucked up. She snorted some blow and now she's having a bad reaction or trip or whatever the hell it is. She's hallucinating." I tell him over the music as he stares at me for a moment before glancing behind me. I turn around seeing Nikki sitting in a chair laughing.

Tommy walks away from me as he goes over to Vanity, wrapping his arm around her waist and helps her walk straight. He brings her over, blocking Nikki's view as he helps her up onto the barstool. He reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of water and forces it into her hand "Drink it now or I dump it on you." He tells her sternly, I see the gleam of fight in her eyes, but she does what she's asked to do anyways.

Tommy turns back to me, "We need to tell Nikki." I suggest as he stares, before laughing.

"Baby have you gone nuts?! That's gonna be world war three! Just let her relax. She's just having some coke induced paranoia, she'll come down from it in a little bit." I move past him when I see Vanity struggling to keep her head up. I place my hand at the base of her neck and glare at him, "She could be overdosing Tommy."

"She's not foaming out the mouth and she isn't seizing. She's fine. I've seen her snort two eight balls in one night and obviously she lived. She's clean and sober and it's probably a shock to the system." Tommy laughs a bit, taking a sip of his beer as he looks at me, "What?"

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?!"

"Please don't fight over me. I'm sorry..." Vanity slurs as she looks at us, "I just wanted something to make me feel better."

"It's okay, Van. Just try to relax." Tommy sweet talks her as I slap his chest.

"It is not okay! Just sit there and be quiet. And pray to god Nikki doesn't feel like making things up with you."

*Nikki's POV*

My eyes wandered a few seats over seeing Tommy and Clementine laughing with Vanity. An empty pit formed in my gut as i watched them for a moment. I was only avoiding the situation because she was avoiding it too. I rubbed my face before ordering a Jack and coke and a vodka cranberry for Van to break the ice. I pop a piece of gum into my mouth before grabbing the drinks.

I strutted over, seeing Tommy and Clementine bickering about something before they turn to me, staring intently "What?" I glance at them before sitting in the chair next to Van, placing the glass in front of her and resting my forearm against the back of her chair.

"Vans actually done drinking." Clementine announced, "I told her not to eat that shrimp cocktail."

I glanced at her before Van "Are you okay?" I spoke against her ear as she nodded quickly.

"I'm okay. I feel better now. Just got a little woozy is all." I catch a bit of her slurring as I watch her reach for the glass and take a sip, the ice cubes shaking and clinking as she holds the cocktail. I glance down at my watch, we had barely been here for 2 hours.

"Do you wanna go home?" I ask softly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I've talked to enough people and don't mind being home with you." I touch her shoulder and feel her tense up.

She shakes her head, looking at the counter of the bar and not me, "No, it's okay. I promise I'm fine. I guess I just drank too much to fast. I'm good Sixx."

I nod, leaving it at that but I still look at her worried. I notice her hands shaking still as she grips the edge of the bar, "Van, look at me a moment." She quickly glances at me before looking past me, "Please look at me. Just me." My eyes wander behind her seeing Tommy and Clementine looking at me, Clementine nervously chewing on her thumb nail as Tommy had a look of worrisome.

Golden eyes find mine, pupils blown but I don't react as I can see tears in her eyes. She knows that I know and that's enough for me. I put my hand on the side of her cheek, she was flushed and burning up, "Keep it together." I spoke sternly as she quickly nodded at my words.

"I-I I'm sorry.." she stumbled over her words, "I'm so sorry Nikki." My thumb catches the tear that rolls down.

"Just keep it together, okay? Only for a little while longer."

Vanity takes a deep breath in and exhales through her nose, "Okay...I can do that. Then we can go home?"

My lips curl in a smile, fighting back every derogative word I wanted to scream in her face "Yes doll, then we can go home. You sit tight, get some water and relax." I tell the bartender to give her a another water bottle before I glare looking at Clem and Tommy.

I leave Vans side, motioning for the two to come over to me, "What is she on? Is it coke? If that's the case, it's the calmest I've ever seen her than."

"W-what do you mean? She's on something? I had no clue.." Tommy stammers as I give him a look.

"Cut the shit. Is she using again?" I look at Clementine, begging for answers as she shrugged.

"I don't know Nikki. And I don't know what she's on. She wasn't making any sense and she started crying then she was hallucinating. She needs to go home Nikki."

I laughed "Have you fucking lost it? Arianna will still be up. If she's hallucinating here she'll be hallucinating at home." I look over at Van seeing her reaching out for something that's not even there, "Fuck. Just keep her distracted or something. I don't want her ruining anything tonight." I sighed in frustration running my hand over my face as I let out a muttered fuck, "I gotta step outside for a minute. Just keep an eye on her, please."

~Next Morning~

I jolt awake, gasping for a breath as I push and kick my comforter off of me. I wipe the sweat from my forehead before holding my stomach, god I felt like I was gonna hurl. My bedroom door is thrown open, the handle hitting the wall as Arianna and Anarchy come running in.

"Mommy!! I'm going with auntie and uncle Tommy today!" She announces pulling herself onto my bed and sitting on her knees in front of me, "Daddy said she's on her way to get me."

I rub my eyes and smile looking at the bun Nikki put her hair in "Is your backpack ready? And your shoes picked out?"

She nodded feverishly, "Yes! Daddy did it and told me to come wake you up to say bye." I run my hands through my hair before getting up. I notice my rooms in disarray as I pull up a pair of sweats. I help Arianna jump off the bed and she's clinging to my leg as we walk down the hallway and to the stairs. She lets go of me as she sits, sliding down the stairs and laughs up a storm as Anarchy chases her down.

"You ready for the whole day with your favorite person besides me?" Nikki smiles handing over her sneakers. I say good morning to him as I walk to the kitchen but he ignores me.

"The whole day? Does that mean I can bring my toys over?!" I hear Nikki chuckle, "No sweetie. I think you still have plenty of toys over there."

I pour myself a cup of coffee and let Anarchy out at the back door before going to the living room and sitting down, "Daddys right baby. You still have a lot over there."

She pouts a bit, "But they aren't new toys like the ones I have here.."

"Just ask Uncle Tommy for new toys." I shrug and smile at her as her eyes light up.

"Van." Nikki scoffs and rolls his eyes, "Arianna, you're fine with the toys you have there and the toys you have here. You aren't getting anything new."

Arianna huffs before she stands in front of the tv watching cartoons, "You hungry V? I can cook you something. She already ate."

I nod, looking at him "I'm starving. Can you make French toast? What are we doing today since she's going over to Clems?"

I stare when he narrows his eyes at me, "I'm staying home and so are you." He says sternly as my eyebrows pull together, "Don't need you in public till the news and frenzy dies down about your behavior."

I tilt my head to the side, "My behavior?" I say confused as I hear a car horn.

"Wait till she's out of the house, yeah?" Nikki rolls his eyes at me and I frown at his attitude. He helps Arianna with her jacket and hands over her backpack, "See you later bug." He bends down and kisses her forehead before he leaves to the kitchen.

"Is daddy mad?" Arianna questions curiously as we walk to the front door.

"What? No, no, daddy's not mad. You know he's just grumpy in the mornings." I bend down to fix her laces, "I'll see you later okay? Be good and we can go to blockbuster tonight." She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. I open the car door for her and help her get up and wait till she buckled. I feel Clementine looking at me and I glance, "Good morning."

"Morning.." she grumbles but cheers up when she says the same thing to Arianna.

"Thanks for taking her. I don't remember us talking about it though?"

"Yeah, you didn't. Nikki asked me."

Why was everyone being so damn short with me?

"Okay...well have fun. Bye Ari." I wave to her as Clem rolls the window up and starts heading down the driveway.

I walk back in the house, leaning against the front door as I smell cinnamon and vanilla coming from the kitchen. I feel jittery as I walk through the house, Nikki has the portable radio on to the rock station in the kitchen. He's moving his head a bit and has his back towards me, I pull myself on the barstool and keep to myself.

"That was Bulls on Parade by Rage Against The Machine and you're listening to KLAZT LA's best rock station. Up next, we're taken it back with a littl Home Sweet Home by Mötley Crüe. Speaking of the Crüe, did anyone else see the article in entertainment today about the antics of Vanity Blackwood last night at their album release party. Chick seems like a real keeper...Not!"

I gasp before Nikki tosses the magazine down on the counter, "You fucking embarssed me last night Vanity."

I stare at the magazine cover. I look fucking plastered as Nikki is trying to keep me standing and the headline reads: The princess takes a tumble as Mötley Crüe heads in the direction of their old antics.

My eyes widen at the shots of me on my knees outside of a limo with both Tommy and Nikki trying to pull me up. I pull up my sweats seeing cuts and bruises on my kneecaps and shins.

"God, Nikki..I-I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say. I-I don't remember any of this."

Mötley Crüe was suppose to be celebrating their album release with new lead singer John Corabi, however they ended up babysitting. Vanity Blackwood (Nikki Sixx's ex and baby mama) had one too many fruity drinks and ended up having to be escorted out (see above). Our office reached out to the bands rep but they had no comment.

Nikki slammed his hand down on the counter, covering the picture of me in the limo with a bright yellow star reading 'censored' between my spread legs, "You're really going to look me in the eye, lie, and tell me you don't remember any of this shit? You humiliated yourself, me, and the band. So who gave you the fucking blow?"

Everything came rushing back, the blow in the bathroom with Corabi, the hallucinations, the vomit outside in the rose bushes when we got home, "I-I went to the bathroom then I needed some air and clem came with me and I started hyperventilating and that's all I remember."

"Vanity." Nikki took a deep breath, "Just tell me what happened. I won't get mad, I just want to know. I was fucking worried sick about you last night, almost took you to the damn hospital."

I pushed the magazine away from me, "I went to the bathroom, then I went outside. I remember I was seeing crap that wasn't there. And I felt sick to my stomach. But I didn't snort anything I swear. I haven't touched anything since New York."

"Vanity! You weren't acting drugged! Or like someone spiked your drink! You were a incoherent mess, you were pale as a ghost and your pupils were as big as the eye of a needle."

The yelling made my head throb as I rubbed my temples to relieve it, "I don't know, Nikki. The last thing I remember is sitting at the bar."

He rolled his eyes, "So I don't know when you're high on coke? You were a babbling mess. Kept saying shit over and over. You're jaw was clenched so god damn tight I thought I was going to have to take you to a dentist! Fuck! Van! You were saying I was with Donna and wouldn't shut the fuck up about it! She wasn't around! Wasn't even fucking invited!" He stepped away from me to go flip the French toast angrily and toss the spatula down after.

"I don't know Nikki..." I spoke in a soft whisper, "I didn't snort, smoke, or shoot anything. Why can't you believe me?" I was already this far down the rabbit hole, why should I stop now?

"Because Van, I know you. Did John give you something because he was acting fucking weird too."

I shook my head looking at him, his eyes were drilling holes in an attempt to get it out of me, "No....I barely talked to him. I congratulated him and that was it."

"Fine." He glares for a moment before looking away, "We'll have to wait a few days before coming out with a statement to clear things up."

"Can't we just wait for it to blow over like everyone else does?"

He scoffed, "Seriously?! You dragged my bands name through the fucking mud!" Nikki shouts before stomping over to the tv and turning it to MTV, "They've been talking about your god damn interview all morning."

"Any thoughts on the album Vanity?"

I rubbed my face as I saw myself almost fall over nothing before grabbing onto the interviewer for stability, "Well, in my honest opinion, the album could be better." I slurred every word, "It's-its not Mötley and it sucks without Vince. Corabi sucks, and the album sucks. It sounds like every band now a days. It's too...too heavy. And! And you know what else!" I pointed my finger at the camera and grabbed ahold of the microphone, "Vince wasn't even fired like Nikki said. I was there that day. Nikki was just bitching like he always does and-"

I felt sick to my stomach when Nikki turned off the tv and threw the remote down, "That's why we need a god damn statement. We'll go with your lie about the spiked drink and call it a day. Got it?"

"It's not a lie.."

"Just don't. Just fucking don't, okay? I know when you are lying and when you're telling the truth. I'm done fucking talking about it."

I stared down at my nails, seeing dried blood around my knuckles. Just say it. Just tell the truth. Just say Corabi gave you the drugs and risk the chance of Nikki kicking him out of the band. I heard Nikki groan when the house phone started ringing.

"What?!" He answers it before rolling his eyes, "It's for you." Nikki glares and hands it to me.

I get up and go with down on the couch, "Hello?"

"Bad time to call huh? It's Jon..." I smiled a bit and peaked over the back of the couch to see Nikki in the kitchen cooking, "I just uh...I saw MTV and-"

"Please, please don't watch it. I was really drunk last night and was acting like a total idiot. That's not how I am and I didn't mean anything I said." I explain, running my hand through my hair, grimacing when I feel it sticking together.

"I figured...they're making you seem like a bad person and I just wanted to make sure you're okay sweetheart." I hear his smile from the other side.

"I'm okay....just dealing with the repercussions. But thank you for checking in. It's really sweet of you."

"You're welcome. But hey..since I have you on the phone. I was hoping maybe we could get together soon? I had a lot of fun last time and I've been thinking about you quite some bit."

I blushed a bit, "Really? Um...yeah, I'd love to see you again. I'm free next weekend."

"That sounds good. Can I pick you up around four?"

My eyes widened, "You wanna pick me up? I can just drive to wherever."

Jon chuckles a bit, "Sixx gonna shoot me or something? Look, I'll take my chances just for you. You'll love what I have planned."

"Okay...yeah you can pick me up. My address is 7904 Palo Verde Court and the code to the gate is 666.."

I smile when Jon laughs, "How clever of him. I'll see you next Saturday Van. Don't listen to the media, it will eat you alive."

I thank him again and say my goodbyes as I put the phone back on the receiver. I go over to the plate Nikki put down as he's already eating, "Will seeing my tits make you feel better?"

"Shut up. Seeing you naked and bent over isn't going to make anything better. I'm pissed Van."

I sigh, "I know. And I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I didn't mean anything I said about the album. I like the album, it's not my favorite but I like it. You know I support everything you create."

"It didn't feel like it." I hear and see the frown and I gently reach over and touch his hand.

"I mean it Nikki. That wasn't me last night and I'm sorry I had you worried." Nikki gave my hand a squeeze before letting go.

"Let's just move past it okay? It already happened and there is no reason for us to argue about it. You said your piece and I said mine. We have time without the kid so let's just relax today." He leaned over and kissed the side of my head, "Love you..”

“I love you too.”

To whom it may concern,

My behavior and antics a few nights ago at the album release party were completely and utterly unacceptable. In no way, shape or form is that how I truly am. I was heavily under the influence and after a trip to the hospital, my blood work had an ungodly amount of Rohypnol in it. So in other words, my drink was ‘roofied’. We are working with the LAPD and the club owners to narrow down the assailant. To the boys, the band, Mötley Crüe, I have never once had any ill feelings towards anything that has been created. I have loved and cherished each album that has been put out by the band. I am extremely apologetic for anyone's feelings in and out of the band I have affected in a negative manor

Best Regards,

Vanity Blackwood

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Can you do a Dib x Reader that’s into tarot cards and horoscopes? Also can make this AU a college AU? I know you said you write the characters up to high school but I was just wondering if you would. It’s fine you do them in high school.

Yeah! Just a warning, I’m not super experienced with tarot cards and everything, so apologies if a lot of it is inaccurate. I hope it’s still okay!!

The air was warm, and the sweet scents of pastries mingled with the sharp smell of coffee. The surrounding chatter of voices and calm music served as decent white noise. You lifted your drink to your lips, eyes drifting to the window next to you. Shades of grey painted the sky, muted tones growing ever darker as time ticked by. Outside, the air had a nasty nip to it, and you were not looking forward to stepping outside again. Plus, you were enjoying yourself in the moment. Your gaze was drawn back to the man across from you, his large glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own drink.

You were more than delighted that he had asked you to come study with him at the coffee shop. Sure, you had wished he had the courage to bite the bullet and ask you on an actual date, but on a chilly winter afternoon a relaxing coffee hangout and study session was still enjoyable. Admittedly, you had developed feelings for the reserved cryptid fanatic who sat next to you in your cell biology class. That being said, you were ecstatic when he had quietly asked that morning if you would like to grab a coffee and study with him. Although you wished for a bit more, the current situation was completely fine by you.

"Have you been doing anything interesting lately?" Both of you had finished your work quite some time ago, spending the rest of the time talking to each other, a silence only settling for a brief minute or two before you continued the conversation. Sure, it was small talk, but the kind of talk that occurs between friends when they can sense their time together is drawing to a close, and that the hangout will end soon. The kind of talk when you aren't ready to leave each other's company, so you attempt to draw out the conversation with simple things.

"Oh, you know, only what every normal college kid does. Party hard, baby." The straight face he was attempting to hold fell apart almost immediately as he broke into a chuckle. "Nah. Just the usual, studying the paranormal. Aliens, ghosts, all that stuff." A smile spread on your face. Of course he was. You found his unique obsession with spooks and cryptids cute, and you were glad he had a passion in life. Even if that passion was restricted while he was away at school, he would still find ways to express himself. He was always scribbling supernatural doodles in the margins of his notes, monitoring the local cryptid stories constantly. "Sorry. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm just not that interesting."

"Please. Liking the paranormal is much more interesting than being a party animal whose only hobby is getting wasted." You paused, setting your cup down on the table. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm only attrac-I mean, drawn, to people who are intriguing."

Nice save, stupid... You thought to yourself. At this point, you were unsure if you should just tell him how you felt. You were reasonably confident that he felt the same way, but he was just too damn nervous to ruin your friendship.

"Okay then, any secrets, or maybe embarrassing stories? Everyone has some. If you tell me one of yours, I'll tell you a story of mine." You bumped your bag that was resting underneath the table with your foot as you stared out at him, trying to pressure him into telling you something good. He always had the best stories. Especially when they were about aliens.

"My whole life is one embarrassing story after the other." He set his cup down as well, finding your eyes once more. "But, I guess one time I had my DNA fused with baloney." You laughed, believing him to be joking. You believed him a majority of the time, but that one was just so outlandish it couldn't possibly be true. "I'm not lying! Remember my stupid alien classmate? Well, he decided to get me back for throwing lunch meat in his face by making me sit on a tack that fused baloney DNA with my own." He was completely serious, so that left only two options: he was either completely insane or it was the truth. For the time you've known and befriended him, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so what the hell. Why not believe him?

"I'm honestly not sure which part to ask for a follow up on, the alien classmate having baloney genetic makeup on the ready or being fused with sandwich meat." Brushing stray strands of hair from your face, you sighed, knowing that your story was in no way going to top that. "Mine isn't that exciting or embarrassing, but in high school, I charged for tarot readings in the bathrooms as a way to make some money. Well, I did until a teacher reported me for 'Satan worshipping'. Which, for starters is complete bullshit, but she was just jealous I made more money a week than she did." You smirked, remembering the look on her face when she confiscated your receipt book that you used to keep track of your profits.

"Wait, you used to read tarot cards?" Dib offered you his full attention, eyes filled with wonder. "I've always thought it was cool, but I just never really had gotten into it. Too busy saving the Earth from aliens and all that."

"I still do. You have your cryptids and space creatures, I have my tarot cards and horoscopes." To your amazement, Dib appeared to be enchanted by the subject. Then again, you supposed it was more or less something you could see him getting into.

"How did I not know that about you?" You shrugged in response to his words. It had just never came up in conversation. "Maybe we could hang out again soon and you could walk me through it?" He looked to be a bit apprehensive, almost as if you had already rejected the idea in his mind. You didn't even have to consider the idea. Not only did you harbor feelings for him, you would jump at the chance to show off your skills and interests.

"I would love to. My roommate has to work Friday night, maybe you could come to my dorm then?" A dorky grin spread across his face as he reached for his cup to drink the remaining coffee.

"It's a date, then." His face flushed as he realized his wording. "Not like that! As friends! You know what I mean." His fingers drummed on the tabletop, and you were sure he was sweating.

"I mean, unless...?" You made an overexaggerated thinking face, and after a moment, you both busted up laughing. However, you were of course only half joking.

(more under the cut)

Pushing open the door, you stepped into the room you had made your own. Kicking aside some shoes your roommate had left piled by the door, you let the man behind you inside.

"Sorry for the mess, I asked my roommate to clean up. They didn't."

"It's fine. You should see my dorm, it's definitely worse." Chuckling, you led him to your side of the room, which was a stark contrast from the other. Everything, for the most part anyway, was organized within bins, your desk nice and tidy despite having many trinkets and various things resting on the desktop. You had made a nice personal space under your bed, it was where you would often sit when you got tired of your desk or bed. Gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor under your bed, you went over to your desk, shuffling through one of your drawers until you felt your fingers close around your tarot deck.

"You have any questions before we start?" You hummed as you closed the drawer.

Dib's eyes were intently focused on you as he sat cross-legged underneath your bed. Finally, he spoke, albeit tentatively. "Just one, but it's kind of stupid."

"There are no stupid questions."

"Okay, in that case...does reading tarot cards like, open up your third eye and let you see ghosts and stuff?" Staring into his face revealed that he wasn't kidding. He was legitimately asking if you could see ghosts when you learned to read tarot cards.

"I changed my mind. There are stupid questions." Laughter slipped out as you sunk down the the floor across from him, tipping the box in your hands until the cards slid out. "Of course it does."

"Woah, really?" His cinnamon eyes sparkled with excitement, and yet again, a flurry of giggles escaped you.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make you see ghosts. It develops greater intuition and understanding." Dib let out a long breath, gaze falling to the floor as he picked at the chipping black polish on his nails, regretting he ever asked that question.

"Can we just forget I ever said that? Please?" You nodded as you separated the deck in your hands, shuffling them together. You did this many times over, the sharp sounds of cards coming together cutting through the stillness that had settled over the room. Dib stared at the cards in your hand, watching as you shuffled them with skill. He had lost track of how many times you had done so by the time you had stacked them together for the final time.

"So, is there anything specific you want to learn? I can't exactly teach you to read, since it takes a lot of practice and a deck you're comfortable with." As you looked to him expectantly, he appeared to be at a total loss for what to even ask for. "I could give you a simple reading just for fun."

"Sure! But, uh, how do they work?" A smile crept onto your face. You felt a warm glow of happiness at being able to share your interests with someone who was genuinely interested in learning about them.

"Well, if I were to do it by myself, I would shuffle them as I did now. It helps bring your energy to the cards, and therefore you will be more drawn to certain ones. Plus, you can better interpret them." You passed the deck to Dib. "If you can shuffle, shuffle them. Do it several times."

"Okay...what exactly are you reading for?" He began shuffling, although not as cleanly as you. A few times the cards had slipped from his grip, flying out in all directions. Every time that would happen, he gathered the cards and began to shuffle again as he listened to you.

"Well, we're just going to do a simple spread of three, but it can be for almost anything. Your past, present, and future, advice for obstacles, relationships, all of that stuff."

"Relationships?" Dib stacked the cards for a final time, handing them back to you. You took them, spreading them out in front of you, face down.

"Yeah, there's all different types of readings for relationships. Is that the simple spread you want?" He thought for a moment, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he looked to you.

"I think so. You said there's different types of relationship readings, so just make an executive decision for me."

"That's not how this works." Your sigh was broken by a chuckle. "But fine. I'll do a spread where a card represents you, the other person, and the relationship." You found yourself wishing for a good outcome, thinking that he was most likely asking about the relationship he could possibly have with you, or at least that's what you were hoping for. "Pick three cards that you're drawn to and line them up across from you."

"Alright..." He stared at the arc of cards that was laid out in the space between you, deliberating, eyes carefully calculating. He brushed a finger across the glossy backs of the cards, finally deciding on two close to the middle, and one on the leftmost edge. He laid them out as you had asked, looking back to you expectantly. "Now what?"

"Now I give you your reading. I'll try my best to interpret the cards in the context of your life, but don't hold it against me if I'm not one hundred percent accurate." You flipped over the spread, the three cards facing up.

"Did I do good...?"

"It's not about making the right choices, it's about being drawn to the cards." You chided, looking at his spread. The cards that had been turned over were an upright Nine of Wands, a reversed Hanged Man, and an upright World. "Let's start with you." You pushed the card a little closer to him. It depicted a bandaged man leaning heavily on a wooden wand, surrounded by the other eight. "This is the Nine of Wands."

"Is it bad?" He looked curious, but there were concerned undertones in his expression.

"No, not necessarily. As a card, it represents courage, determination, and resilience. In the context of your part in the relationship, there may be or have been setbacks for you personally, but you have the strength to overcome those things. You might get hurt, or things may be tough and uncertain for you right now, but you will persist and get through it." A light blush dusted his cheeks as he nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds about right...does getting in your own way count as a setback?" Dib chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Sure. If I had to offer advice...no risk, no reward, right?" You both locked eyes for a moment, a hush falling over the room yet again. Again, this same, infuriating dance. You both were aware of how you felt. Yet neither would make a move.

"I suppose..." Dib actually seemed to be taking all of this into deep consideration. You couldn't help the hope that you felt rising in your chest.

"Alright, next...the other individual. This is the Hanged Man, but it's reversed." Again, you pushed the card forward. It depicted a man who was supposed to be hanging by the ankle from a tree, but from the direction it was turned, it appeared he was more standing upright.

"Are reversed cards bad?"

"They can be. The reversed Hanged Man for example generally means that the person is ready to go but is being held back. In context of the other person in your case, maybe they're ready to jump into a relationship but you might be holding them back by not taking a chance." Okay, so maybe that wasn't really a reading. You may have been guilty of inserting your own personal feelings into the reading, since you assumed the relationship in question was between yourself and Dib. You recognized the hint of irritation that was edging your words, so you drew in a deep breath, continuing on in a softer tone. "You know, like you said. You said your setback could be getting in your own way. You might be overthinking everything, which is restricting the other person from taking the next step."

"You think so?" Again, that damned knowing tone. When you looked into his eyes, you knew that he was aware of how you felt. And yet he still stopped himself every time from taking that leap. Was he waiting for you to make the first move? You hoped not. Sure, it may have been hypocritical, but you wanted no part in asking for a more romantic end to your friendship.

Clearing your throat, you decided to move to the last card of the spread. "The relationship itself. This card is the World." You held it up this time to show him, wishing to hold onto it. The card illustrated a naked woman in the middle of a wreath, surrounded by various animal heads. "Generally, it represents being in the right place, pausing before the next stage." Admittedly, that was not the reading you had desired. You didn't want to stay as only friends. "In context of the relationship, it could be interpreted as staying put, and just appreciating where the two of you are. There will be lots of options and pathways ahead and all that." You waved your hand dismissively, unable to fight off the exhaustion that was settling in. "So, anyway, that was your very basic reading." You stacked the cards together again, lazily patting the ground around you for the box.

"Is this stuff, like, certain advice?"

"You mean, do you have to take it? No, I suppose not. It's just suggestions and life advice based on interpretations."

Dib crawled his way over to sit by your side as you put your cards safely back in their box. You quirked an eyebrow, yet said nothing. "Okay, because I'm not too into that last one." Without tearing his eyes away from yours, his fingers brushed your own. He kept eyeing your face to confirm that what he was doing was alright. Always cautious, that one.

"I probably shouldn't give my input, since it's your life advice, but me either." A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as his fingers finally laced themselves with yours, his free hand drifting up to your face. His touch was light, so much so that you weren't even sure if it was there. In that moment, Dib was a walking contradiction, unsure of himself yet completely secure at the same time.

"But if you're reading the cards, aren't I asking for your input?" Slowly he leaned his face closer to yours, hand still resting on your cheek. Fitting, wasn't it? Everything the both of you had ever done was drug out to the maximum. Whether it was that you both enjoyed the frustration or you wanted to extend every moment you had together, you would never know. Nor did it matter. Especially not then.

"I suppose you are." You reached out a hand to run it through his hair, intertwining your fingers with the dark strands. "You're sure, then?" Each word that was spoken became progressively fainter. The entire time you spoke, his lips were barely a breath away from your own.

As if your words were the cue he needed to commit, he murmured a quick, "I think so." before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips softly against yours. He didn't need to speak for you to know that was all he had been dreaming of doing for a long while. It was obvious in the magical way he was moving his lips in time with your own, in the way delighted hums and mumbles would rise from his throat. In your opinion, there was something to be said about mouth-to-mouth communication. This was possibly the happiest you had ever seen him, you didn't need to be a master of intuition to interpret that. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you couldn't resist smiling along with him.

Dib finally pulled away after what felt like both an eternity and hardly any time at all. "You said it yourself. No risk, no reward." His grin was wide, and his eyes shone with joy behind his large glasses.

"Correct." Your hand fell from his hair to his coat, fingers playing with the fabric of the collar. "I usually charge for tarot readings, but for you, another kiss and consider your tab paid."

"Sounds fair enough to me." Leaning in once more, Dib planted yet another kiss on your lips. It was much quicker than the previous one, but after pulling back he proceeded to pepper several little kisses all over your face. Each was very light and brief, leaving your skin feeling tingly. His lips found your own once more, both hands tangling themselves in your hair. A simple tarot reading had somehow morphed into a very physical expression of feelings that had been pushed down for months. You wouldn't complain, though.

"Thank you for your payment." Your words were broke by giggles after you had parted.

"Of course." Dib's gaze drifted to the box of cards that was sitting off to the side, his smile never wavering. "You know, you should teach me how to read those."

"Only if you take me cryptid hunting."

"Deal." He laughed at the determined smirk on your face, wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into a hug, your arms snaking around him as if that was where they were always meant to be.

"So, can we safely consider ourselves ex-friends now? Because personally, I feel that we're much better off as lovers."

"Like I said before, I trust your input, it's what I asked for."

"So, lovers it is?"

"Lovers it is." Dib's voice was pleasant as you snickered into his chest, more than pleased with how the day had went. You sensed that he would agree with that notion.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #dib membrane #fanfiction #fanfic #request

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erbferbatinlerb · 4 years

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sorry for the long post, i'm on mobile and cant put a read more but.... drumroll please.... due to popular demand here it is! Phineas Has ADHD: The Essay.

Hyperfixation on building/inventing things: Even more specifically amusement park rides ("Rollercoaster", "Rollercoaster The Musical", "One Good Scare", "Leave The Busting To Us", "Don't Even Blink", "Cheer Up Candace", "Delivery Of Destiny", etc.) Now, you can argue that he's a kid, and rides are fun, so of course he likes them, but if you look at it from a building standpoint, from an engineering standpoint? Phineas' interest lies in fun, of course, but he also must have an extreme interest in the engineering aspect of a ride in order to be skilled and knowledgeable enough to build them, and to be able to focus on the task so wholly.

He also gets incredibly attached to very specific things that some people often find strange, which seems like evidence of hyperfixation to me. (E.g.: aglets in "Tip of the Day", dental hygiene in "Bully Bust", Bulgarian folk dancing in "The Beak", detective movies in "Finding Mary McGuffin") hot tubs in "Bully Bromance Breakup", "Lotsa Latkes", "Swiss Family Phineas")

HYPERFOCUS: He and Ferb will dedicate their whole day to just one idea that they have. Phineas is able to weaponize his hyperfocusing talent incredibly well and stick to one task, but only if it is something he is extremely interested in — for example: In "Bully Bromance Breakup", he becomes almost unable to function without the stimulation of inventing, to the point where climbing a mountain with his friends—something he, by all accounts, should enjoy��becomes a difficult task for him.

He displays forgetfulness: In "Mom's Birthday", Phineas forgets it is his mom's birthday until he hears Candace mention it, and then he feels extremely guilty. We then see a montage of him, during various situations from the previous episodes (on the rollercoaster, etc.) telling Ferb: "We can't forget mom's birthday." Even though this was of course, a bit, if you take this as being canon (which there's no real reason not to), it means Phineas was constantly talking about their mom's birthday for weeks leading up to the event because he really didn't want to forget it and he was worried that he would (and in the end, he did), implying he may have a consistent tendency to be forgetful.

Phineas has an intense love of summer, and is implied to have a dislike for school— which is natural for any kid his age, but it's not hard to imagine that he might feel cooped up and creatively stifled during school. Especially if we put his attitude towards school next to that of Baljeet, with whom he shares a love of learning and knowledge, it's hard to ignore the difference. Being as we've seen Phineas get agitated when he's not able to build and invent freely and on his own terms ("Bully Bromance Breakup", "Summer Belongs To You"), it's easy to imagine he may struggle in a public school environment.

He has impulsive and thrill-seeking tendencies, which are evident in many of the big ideas. ("Escape From Phineas Tower", "Rollercoaster", "Ain't No Kiddie Ride", "The Beak", "One Good Scare", "Phineas and Ferb-Busters", "Leave The Busting To Us", ETC.) Adrenaline-seeking behaviour is common in individuals with ADHD and goes hand-in-hand with a low tolerance for boredom which Phineas explicitly states himself to possess in the very first episode of the show. ("Rollercoaster")

However, on the flip side to his aversion to boredom, he can also spend literally hours just standing in the backyard, not even talking, if that's just what he feels like doing that day. ("Best Lazy Day Ever")

He is highly energetic and is the most talkative one of his friends. He has also suggested having an awareness and perhaps an insecurity that he talks too much in some situations. ("Misperceived Monotreme")

He sometimes has trouble with listening, and interrupts people, especially when he's excited: in "Ready For The Bettys", when they stumble upon Perry's lair, Phineas assumes Ferb built everything and doesn't listen, constantly interrupting when Ferb tries to protest; in "Hail Doofania", he assumes that he knows what Isabella is talking about (not having seen a rainbow before) and makes it his mission for the day to do what he thinks she means, and doesn't take the time to hear her out when she tries to explain otherwise because he's too invested in/excited about the project he has in mind.

Obliviousness / missing of social cues: The most obvious example is Isabella's crush on him, which he consistently fails to notice. ("Chronicles of Meap", "Meapless in Seattle", "That Sinking Feeling", "Happy New Year", "Summer Belongs To You", "Happy Birthday Isabella", "Doofapus", "It's No Picnic") He also seems not to understand that Candace wants to get them in trouble, nor that he actually probably would get in trouble if his mom knew what he and Ferb were doing. In fact, he gets excited about sharing their endeavors with Linda, clearly oblivious to the potential repercussions. ("Traffic Cam Caper", "What'd I Miss", "Suddenly Suzy")

Highlighted Episodic Evidence

Chronicles of Meap/Meapless in Seattle

Phineas's dismissal of Isabella's "cuteness" comments shows again his difficulty picking up on social cues, especially when distracted by a mission. He does not seem to understand, or at least does not acknowledge, Isabella's clear frustration with him. He does not understand that he is dismissing Isabella's feelings, because to him it feels obvious that she is cute and he doesn't think he needs to say it. Followed up in "Meapless in Seattle" with the "You think I'm cute?" "It's a scientific fact!" interaction—Phineas is not understanding that this isn't really how to give a compliment; he does not seem to realize that by not acknowledging Isabella's cuteness he could be hurting her feelings/nurturing her insecurities.

That Sinking Feeling

Once again, he misses cues from Isabella about her feelings for him, or if he understands them, he does not outwardly acknowledge them. He also tries to create romance for Mishti and Baljeet by taking "scientifically" romantic things, based upon his research (mostly the movie Titanic): candles, live music, the situation of a sinking ship... He over-does these things in a calculated way to try and curate the most scientifically romantic situation possible. This also mirrors Candace's opinion about his cold, calculated methods in "Perry Lays an Egg".

Cheer Up Candace

Phineas cares about Candace and when he sees her upset, he wants to help her, and he makes it his goal to do so. He hears the first step from Isabella's magazine is a makeover and he immediately thinks of a clown. He sets off to execute his plan without consulting anyone (except Ferb) and after it goes, as you can expect, not well, he realizes in hindsight that his impulsive idea was built on flawed logic. However, rather than dwell on this, he decides to dive right into the next step and he continues to do wildly over the top, fantastical versions of the magazine suggestions. I think this demonstrates a lack of understanding for social cues as well as impulsivity and impatience. Furthermore, he doesn't even wait to hear step two before setting out to achieve step one, and he doesn't ask Isabella her opinion or even listen to her suggestions once he has entered his own Idea Zone. Also, the Mix 'n' Mingle Machine is a great example of his unconventional and greatly efficiency-focused thought processes—

he thinks of it as the most efficient way to meet as many people as possible in a short time, demonstrating a clear misunderstanding of what the actual intent of "meeting someone" was in the magazine. He is also basing this idea on his personal notions of what he finds fun, not what Candace would necessarily want.

Summer Belongs To You

When stranded on the island, Phineas shows an intense frustration when he's unable to put an optimistic spin on things. He also has a clear discomfort when he is without any tools to build with. Again, we see his hyperfocus on inventing (in this case: fixing the plane) get in the way of Isabella trying to have a romantic moment with him, and in the way of relaxing in general. She sees the sights of Paris, alone time with him, and chances to enjoy themselves, whereas Phineas sees things he could use as airplane parts, single-mindedly focused on his mission. And again he misses or does not acknowledge Isabella's frustration with him in the "It seemed like romance was a foregone conclusion" scene. This is strong evidence for Phineas' hyperfixation because he gets so caught up in his own world when it comes to inventing/building/working that he doesn't even notice what's going on around him, then he fails to see the irony of him identifying Candace&Jeremy and Ferb&Vanessa as romantic interests while entirely missing the fact that Isabella & him are also "a boy and a girl, alone in the city of love."

Also of note is his complete focus on completing the Summer Solstice goal. Because, despite the fact that they made it back to Danville safely after being in a pretty perilous situation—which should have become their main concern being as they were just stranded on an island with no food or way to call for help—he cannot be satisfied with that. Needing to get home before the sun sets for the sake of winning his bet and symbolically representing his worldview, he yells at candace when she doesn't want to get on the trike, because he's determined to still get there on time, intensely focused on both proving a point and upholding his personal values.

Happy Birthday Isabella

Isabella does not want an over-the-top surprise party, all she wants is to spend time alone with Phineas, but Phineas is so focused on his idea of her perfect birthday party that he does not seem to realize what her wishes are. He sends her away from him so that she won't know about the surprise, and does not even do so very gently (getting Buford to carry her away in a sack) instead of even asking her what she wants.

Bully Bromance Breakup

In this episode, Phineas is shown to get extremely distressed when he has to go even a short period of time without building/inventing anything. This is representative of a need for constant stimulation (which would explain why he is so adamant that he cannot put up with boredom). This also evidences his hyperfixation on building/inventing. The whole time that they're climbing the mountain with Baljeet, Phineas is completely preoccupied by his ideas for inventions, and after Baljeet rejects his ideas a few times, he gets increasingly agitated, eventually gets to a point where he is unable to climb anymore and has to get pulled up by the others, and he is shown rambling to himself about all of the invention ideas he has.

This is by no means a definitive list, and I'm sure there are many more moments in the show that provide evidence of these ideas, but this is the ones that stood out to me. Anyway, in conclusion, Phineas has ADHD. If you're still reading this incredibly long post by this point: uhh, thank you, I guess! Have a nice day. 💖

#phineas flynn #phineas and ferb #pnf #adhd #i dont think i need to regail you with proof for doof and candace also having adhd #but the evidence for phineas is more subtle and i wanted to like. write it down so uhh. i did #THIS IS A HEADCANON. I WANNA CLARIFY THAT #this is purely headcanon based upon my personal interpretation of the canon and any other hcs for phineas and any other character are valid #♡♡♡#tagging this as #dannywrites #i guess jshsn #idk how the formatting of this is gonna turn out but. take this

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