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yslkook · 3 years

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#all hands on deck (8)

#corporate masterlist summary: in which the tokyo team comes to seoul for a workshop. feelings are felt and dinner is had. and jungkook gets sick. word count: 8.1k warnings: cursing, a fight, discussion of mental health, some suggestive themes a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @cutechim for your endless support <33

The new year brings the strengthening of your friendship with Jungkook. You’ve had exactly two late nights at work in preparation for the Tokyo team arriving in Seoul this time, and Jungkook had paid for dinner each time. He’d refused for you to pay despite your insistence.

Either way, it’s on the company card, so at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. But still, it’s the thought that counts.

Late nights at work meant that eventually, you’d stop talking about work and start talking about each other, about life. After all, you could only spend so long staring at the same powerpoint slide deck.

And you’d rather stare at him. You’d rather stare at the tattoos that line his corded forearms, at the way his sweater sits deliciously on his torso and outlines his narrow waist, or the way his pants always seem to sit just right on his thighs. And his eyes, his bright, brown eyes filled with mischief and magic when he looks at you.

You sigh audibly, your hand curled under your chin.

Jungkook immediately turns his head towards you with a quirk of an eyebrow and a lazy smirk.

“See somethin’ you like?” He drawls, not bothering to hide how he gazes at you. It reminds you of something slow, something that lights a fire in your belly.

“You know it,” You reply easily. As if your heart isn’t fluttering with the heat of his eyes.

Jungkook is silent for a moment, his lips pursed and eyes trained on you. He doesn’t hide the way he lets himself indulge in you, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, your shoulder (where he knows your tattoos bloom and flourish).

And god, he just wants you to tell him about all of your tattoos. He wants you to let him trace over the inky trails, he wants to hear if there are any stories behind them. He wants to hear any and all of your stories. Your voice is one of his favorite things.

“I see somethin’ I like,'' Jungkook murmurs. He’s looking straight at you, nothing but sincerity dripping from his eyes. It should be sinful- the smolder of his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips. Suddenly, the man before you oozes confidence but you think he’s always oozed this natural confidence.

It makes something else flutter, too.

You’re suddenly very flustered, your cheeks blazing and you stammer and nearly trip on your feet to grab your laptop charger from your backpack. Only to fumble with your charger and drop it on the floor in a tangled mess. You bend over immediately to retrieve it, and hide your face from him for a second.

Jungkook groans internally. You’re standing in front of him, with your back to him and your ass is on display for him. Right in front of him.

“Uh,” You mutter, “S-sorry. What were we doing?”

“It’s just me,” Jungkook says softly, pushing the image of your ass to the back of his mind, “No need to be nervous around me.”

Jungkook always keeps you on your toes.

And that’s how many of your late nights at work go- even if Sana and Namjoon are present, you both find a way to quietly flirt with each other. You find a way to admire him with heart eyes. And you catch his gaze on you more than once as well.

There’s also been several times when you were both supposed to be working together on something for the submissions project, but instead ended up spending the entire afternoon together in a conference room once you finished your work. It’s so easy to talk to him, about anything and everything. You laugh loudly and unabashedly with him and you feel like no time between you both has passed at all.

It feels like you’ve known him for years. And maybe that’s the truth.

When February comes, it brings the Tokyo team to Seoul. It also brings your boss acting like an asshole and nearly throwing you and Sana under the bus at an update meeting in front of the entire Tokyo team and your team.

But Namjoon vehemently sticks up for you both, as he always does. You ignore the burn of anger and tears at the back of your eyes and tell yourself that someday, you’ll get out from under his wing.

And with February comes Mark.

Mark, who has been texting you way more than usual ever since he and the team had landed in Seoul. You make the incorrect assumption that he’s been texting Namjoon just as much as he’s been texting you. What other reason would he have to be texting you, if not for work related purposes?

And you feel obligated to respond- after all, he’s your superior.

To you, it’s small talk mostly. Nothing quite significant. But even Grandma notices your phone lighting up far more than usual at dinnertime.

“Who’s texting you? Do you have a secret lover or something?” Grandma asks, peering over her plate to look at your phone.

“Yes, I’ve been sneaking out every night after you fall asleep to meet up with them,” You roll your eyes, “It’s just this guy from work. He works in Tokyo. Remember, I told you about him? The guy who got the job I wanted a few years ago. Like, two years ago at this point?”

“Ah,” Grandma says understandingly, “If he’s in Tokyo, why is he texting you?”

“Our teams are working together on something big,” You sigh, “Mark is the team lead for Tokyo and Namjoon’s the lead for us. Their team is in Seoul this week.”

“Even Jin doesn’t text you like that,” Grandma observes, “You need more girlfriends, sweetheart. All of this testosterone can’t be good for you.”

You snort, “Trust me, Grandma. I know. Yuna and I are closer now, though. Her friends are really nice. Remember, I told you I met them at New Years?”

Grandma hums in acknowledgement. “What about that boy? Jung...Jung something?”

“What boy?” You feign aloofness, stuffing your face with rice to avoid her sly gaze.

“The one that when he texts you, you look like a lost puppy-”

“Lost puppy! I do not look like a lost puppy- I’m a big, bad wolf, if anything,” You grumble, crossing your arms, “Lost puppy… Can’t believe you.”

“Okay, big, bad wolf,” Grandma rolls her eyes, “This one makes you look like a lost puppy.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” You mumble, “His name is Jungkook.”

Grandma looks at you long and hard, dark eyes narrowed and lips pursed. You’re transparent in her gaze- you’ve never been able to hide anything from her. Not since you were a child. And this time is no different. She somehow has been your fatherly figure, your motherly figure and your grandma all at the same time.

You don’t know how she does it. You don’t know how she did it.

The lines around her eyes relax- the same eyes that you have. She carefully chooses her next words:

“Don’t break your own heart trying to protect it.”

When Mark asks you about dinner during the lunch break at one of your workshop days. He sounds hopeful asking you to dinner at that one seafood restaurant that you had told him about months ago- it was so long ago that you had nearly forgotten about it. You make the mistake of assuming that this was solely a work thing.

He’d made dinner reservations for both of you when you had agreed. A formidable pit begins to form in your stomach once you had agreed to it. And you’re unable to return the dazzling smile he gives you- only managing a feeble upturn of your lips.

But he was your superior- you had to say yes, right?

So you go to dinner with him. You meet him at the restaurant after going home and enduring a series of questions from Grandma. You tell her that what she thinks isn’t the reality- that it’s just dinner with one of your many bosses-

“Then be careful. Corporate Seoul is… intimidating.”

You wonder if you’re crossing a line that you shouldn’t cross. You wonder if Mark even understands the implications of him asking you to dinner, whether platonic or not.

The back and forth in your mind sets you on edge. Should you cancel? You could always feign sick. But even that doesn’t sound right. Maybe you should go to dinner to see what his intentions even are. Maybe you’re just...overthinking it. As usual.

You decide to wear business casual to dinner, wanting to set unspoken boundaries with Mark. Your heart is thundering in your chest, but even these jitters are nothing compared to when you had met Yuna’s friends, had kissed Jungkook’s cheek, had asked Jungkook to have ice cream with you.

Jungkook. Butterflies flutter in your belly at the thought of him. He surprises you, or rather it surprises you how quickly and openly you had welcomed him into your life. How you trust him with your open, bleeding heart. The thought of his big, doe eyes and the wet, pink pout of his lips sends your belly into a frenzy.

You push him to the back of your mind for now, to focus on Mark.

You meet Mark outside of the restaurant- he looks sharp as ever and he looks like he knows it. The scent of his cologne wafts into your nose- it’s not unpleasant. His hand lands on the small of your back respectfully as he asks about your day-

“You were with me for most of it, Mark,” You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“You look nice,” Mark says, lazily turning his head to look at you.

“Thanks, you sound surprised,” You tease.

You don’t return the compliment. He does look nice and handsome tonight, wearing a dark blue sweater that fits nicely on him.

This is not a date. You haven’t been on one of those in a long, long while. So you won’t return the compliment.

The restaurant is dimly lit for dinnertime, the lights bouncing off of Mark’s bright eyes. It’s bustling, but the noise around you isn’t overwhelming.

You don’t particularly like seafood, but you’ll do anything to keep the anxiety at bay. Including eating crab, when it’s the last thing you want to do.

“How’s your food?” You ask a little desperately, trying to break the awkward silence that you had certainly fabricated.

“Great, you wanna try? I knew you had good taste, but you just keep impressing me,” Mark says easily, his eyes washing over you.

You look beautiful in the dim light of the restaurant, the soft glow of the lamps illuminating the planes of your face.

“Good taste?” You scoff, “And how could you possibly know that I have good taste? I mean, it’s true, don’t get me wrong. But-”

“Well,” Mark says smoothly, “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re pretty. Obviously, you have good taste.”

“You don’t need to butter me up, Mark,” You roll your eyes but still smile at him.

“‘M not. Just being honest,” Mark shrugs and throws you a charming grin.

“Whatever you say,” You reply, taking another bite of your food. He points to the corner of your mouth and you wipe away some stray sauce.

“Not gonna return the compliment?” Mark teases lightly.

“Now why would I need to do that?” You reply, “That’s hardly appropriate, considering you’re one of my bosses now.”

“You don’t need to be so formal with me-”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You ask testily, coolly raising an eyebrow.

“We’re not at work,” Mark says, “You can be yourself around me, you know.”

“I am being myself around you,” You say pointedly, “What you see is what you get, Mark.”

Your reply confuses him. You pay it no mind. The rest of dinner goes as smoothly as that- you ask him about work, about living in Tokyo. You keep the conversation on him, hardly allowing him to ask anything about you.

Just how you had wanted it. You ask the right questions, laugh at the right times and pay just the right amount of attention to him.

Enough to fool him into thinking you were having a great time and enough for there to be no awkward lull in the conversation. Not that you were having a particularly terrible time to begin with… you just genuinely didn’t want to be here.

After all, you’d rather be at home with Grandma. Your thoughts flutter to Jin for a moment. Then Yuna. Then to Jungkook.

Mark is nice enough. He asks if you’d like to get ice cream with him after dinner. To which you say no- getting ice cream with him feels too intimate for two people who are just colleagues.

And maybe spontaneous ice cream reminds you of Jungkook. You say no to him, under the guise that you need to get home to Grandma. Which technically isn’t a lie.

Disappointment flashes across his eyes quickly but it’s gone as quick as it comes. He waits with you until your Uber to go back home arrives. You hate taking Ubers from the city back home by yourself- normally, you’d park at Seokjin’s apartment building and drive from there. But you hadn’t told Jin that you were going to dinner with Mark.

Maybe you should have.

You catch Mark glance at your lips for half a millisecond too long and take about five steps back from you. Your heart thunders in your chest again, and you feel lightheaded.

Had you misjudged this dinner? Was this not just dinner between two colleagues?

You swallow nervously and hug your arms around your waist. You and Mark keep up with the small talk for the most part, but you’re already spacing out.

“Hey,” Mark says softly, once the Uber arrives, “Get home safe, alright?”

You decide that maybe you should at least give him a hug, and even he seems surprised when you open your arms to him.

“You too, Mark,” You murmur, “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling hopelessly. Your comforter is pulled up to your chin and you want to sleep, you want the comforting lull of sleep to overtake you. But it doesn’t.

So you stare at the ceiling. You pull your phone off of the nightstand and see that you have an unread text from Seokjin:

jin: how was dinner with mark

How did he know? You sigh, palming your forehead. Nothing ever gets by him. He always seems to know everything, even when he doesn’t.

you: fine 😐 how’d you know i went to dinner with mark... jin: not bc you told me, that’s for sure

Irritation flares up inside you. You love him, but damn he can be petty when he wants to be.

you: if you have something to say just say it lol jin: he told namjoon. namjoon told me you: oh nice, glad to know that u guys at the top like to talk about me going to dinner with my boss jin: he’s not your boss

You huff and roll over, ignoring the text. His pettiness can wait until tomorrow.

Jin ambushes you in the parking lot. It’s earlier than your usual 7:47 arrival- you had wanted to arrive earlier so that you wouldn’t run into Jin.

But you must be predictable because Jin knows you so well- he knows that you’d try to avoid him. He meets you at your car, in the same exact spot that you always park, with two cups of coffee.

“What,” You roll your eyes, slamming the front door of your car a little too forcefully.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jin says just as snarkily, “We need to talk.”

“About what,” You snap, “Talk to me when you’re done being petty.”

“I’m being petty?” Jin asks incredulously. You narrow your eyes at him, your temper beginning to flare under your skin. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax. This is your best friend. You’re in the middle of the parking lot at work. There’s no reason to snap at him.

“What is it, Jin,” You ask, “What did I do to warrant an ambush at 7:30 AM before either of us have had coffee-”

“Mark,” Jin says bluntly, “Your date with Mark.”

“My what?” You screech at him, “It wasn’t- it wasn’t a date!”

“That’s not what he thinks,” Jin says swiftly, “He thinks it was a date. He told Namjoon. Who told me-”

“You boys all gossip like we’re in fuckin’ high school,” You hiss, “It wasn’t a date. It was just dinner. He’s my boss-”

“He’s not your boss,” Jin says harshly, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“He’s higher up than me! I consider him my boss!”

“He doesn’t see you as a subordinate! He sees you as an equal, and what the fuck- he wants to date you! How can you not tell-”

“So now it’s my fault? That I didn’t assume that an invite to dinner with my superior wasn’t a date? That I just considered it dinner? It’s my fault now?”

“He asked you to dinner at a restaurant that you had recommended to him,” Jin counters, eyes just as fiery as yours, “Seriously? That’s not a date to you? If you told me, I would’ve warned you-”

The heat in your eyes immediately melts away once realization hits you like a train. But still, you won’t let Jin have the last word-

“Since the three of you are besties now, you can tell him that I’m not fuckin’ interested,” You spit venomously at him, yank the cup of coffee from his hands and speed walk into the office building. You ignore his calls of your name in favor of feeling embarrassed heat flooding your face.

You feel like a fool.

Your sour mood lasts the entire morning. Not even the prospect of lunch entices you. Jin pings you around 11, asking if you wanted to have lunch with him. His words from earlier this morning ring in your head on replay.

You ignore him for now. Truthfully, you don’t have much of an appetite. You stay in your area of the floor, not wanting to run into anyone or speak with anyone longer than you had to.

You’re grateful that you don’t have to participate in the workshop with the Tokyo team today- Sana and Jungkook were taking the lead on that. You’re only meeting with Lisa and Minhyuk later in the day to go over a few documents with them. You sit in your cubicle and walk around whenever you feel like it, keeping yourself busy and your mind off of Mark.

Mark, who’s currently in the conference room on the other side of the building with Jungkook.

Jungkook cannot wait for this day to be over. He’d most definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, irritation brewing in his belly from the minute his alarm had gone off. There was nothing in particular that had gone wrong. It’s just one of those days.

He hopes this workshop and this day goes by relatively quickly. He’s itching to go to the gym today and spend at least two hours there. He needs it. He’s felt on edge for the last few days.

Especially, since he overheard your name, Mark’s name and dinner in the same sentence.

Even thinking about it puts a sad, sour taste in his mouth. But he pushes it to the side, only allowing a brief glare in Mark’s direction.

Not that he has any right to be irritated. Not really, anyway. You can do whatever you want. As you’ve always done.

Mark looks a little distressed and Namjoon is perfectly poised as they speak. Jungkook tunes the conversation out, and even Sana and Irene look mildly interested when your name comes out of Mark’s mouth.

Well, now he has to listen a little harder. Jungkook pretends to busy himself on his laptop, typing away to some of his work friends via chat.

“...Can’t tell if she had a good time or not. Should I text her? Go to her cubicle?” Comes Mark’s unsure voice. Normally, he’s so put together, confidence and charm oozing off of him. It’s interesting to hear him like this- insecure, because of you apparently.

Jungkook doesn’t blame you. He remembers feeling that way around you, but now that he knows you a little more… You make him feel good. You make him feel better.

Which is why his heart sinks a fraction. He doesn’t see Namjoon’s eyes glaze over to him. Namjoon sees the unbridled tension in Jungkook’s shoulders.

“This isn’t appropriate, Mark,” Namjoon says curtly. Jungkook’s ears perk up, his heart not feeling so heavy.

Mark looks at him in resignation and Namjoon claps his shoulder without another word. And so the meeting begins, Jungkook starts taking meeting minutes with you in the back corner of his mind.

The longer he thinks about it, as the pads of his fingers clack away on his keyboard, the more irritated he becomes. So you had gone to dinner with Mark. Had he misread you?

But Jungkook thinks about how you text him ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ sometimes. He wonders if you text Mark that, too. Do you call Mark spontaneously when you’re driving, too? Does Mark send you music recommendations? Have you shared extra treats with him, too?

Jungkook puts himself in a sour mood, casting glares over in Mark’s direction. His tongue pokes his cheek, and all he can think about is you telling him to lighten up. But even the thought of you, the thought of you and Mark...something mean curls in his belly and festers.

And as the afternoon wears on, he becomes more and more upset. If you want to date Mark, that’s none of his business. Who is he to stop you?

Mark, who looks at you as if you’re something to be won. At least, that’s what Jungkook sees in Mark’s gaze. Whatever- Mark wasn’t the one who had seen you in that green dress at the holiday party. The memory of you in that green dress is seared in his mind, and it’s a memory that Mark will never have.

But still, he can’t help but feel irrationally irritated. He likes you so much- maybe he had put you on a pedestal for a long time before he truly knew you. But if anything, getting to know you has him descending even deeper into his feelings for you.

And you have no idea. How could you not know- can’t you tell that his hands get clammy around you, that he has difficulty maintaining meeting your eyes sometimes? That the mere sight of you, the sound of your voice is an instant serotonin boost for him?

But how would you know? He’s given no inclination of his affections for you. You don’t know that when your name lights up his phone, his heart races. You don’t know that when he gets a whiff of your musky perfume when he’s in the same room as you, he thinks he could drown in it. You don’t know that he’d take your gentle teasing with a smile, just so he could hear your voice.

Can’t you read in between the lines?

The end of the day can’t come fast enough. Jungkook is speeding out of the conference room, away from Mark, before Namjoon even properly dismisses them. Namjoon only sighs at Jungkook’s rushed departure.

He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Over the last few months, Namjoon has come to know Jungkook as more than just his direct report. They’ve established a quick rapport beyond the confines of work- Namjoon would say that they’re friends. Good friends, even. And Jungkook would say the same.

Which is why Namjoon can tell that Jungkook is upset, and why he’s upset. Maybe it’s crossing professional lines, but Namjoon likes to think of Jungkook as a close friend. Namjoon has had an inkling of Jungkook’s feelings since around the time of the first time the team went to Tokyo. He had mentioned it to Seokjin in passing, and Jin had done some investigating on his own.

And since Jin is your best friend, Namjoon doesn’t feel as guilty about being somewhat nosy. But really, he’s rooting for both of you. He’s just pushing you both along as best he knows how. He won’t meddle, he’ll only be in both of your corner’s until you both get your head out of your respective asses.

Even at the holiday party, Namjoon could tell. And Jin, too. Even if it was over two months ago at this point, the stolen looks and soft laughs have only increased between you and Jungkook. And Jin was no fool- he had seen you and Jungkook on New Year’s Eve. Even if you had hardly uttered more than five words to Jin about kissing Jungkook’s cheek, something he’s never seen you do with anyone publicly. He knows something is up with you.

He wonders if even you know what’s going on with you and Jungkook. Or even what you’re feeling.

Jin has caught you peering at Jungkook dreamily more than once inside and outside of work. It’s not typical of you, to look so openly lovestruck at the object of your unassuming affections. But Jin doesn’t think you even realize your feelings. He’s seen you smiling to yourself when your phone lights up. Jin has seen Jungkook’s name pop up on your phone more and more over the last few months.

And Jin is proud of you. He can recognize your little crush even faster than you can. He only wants to see you happy and for you to allow yourself to be happy.

You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t think he’s seen you smile this much in the last five or six years. He hasn’t seen the glow that comes with happiness light up your face in so long, and it looks so good on you.

Jin only wants you to hold onto anything that makes you glow like that.

Jungkook has been in the office gym for nearly two hours and he hadn’t even realized it. Music blares in his ears through his headphones, he’s drenched and dripping in sweat and his muscles are nearly screeching with exhaustion.

But he pays it no mind. He just keeps going- anything to keep the thought of you, dolled up for Mark- on a date with Mark- holding Mark’s hand- kissing Mark, out of his mind.

It works for a moment. But then the image of you smiling at Mark with hearts in your eyes, pressing your lips to his… It’s too much for him to handle.

Maybe he was a fool to think that you might be remotely interested in him. Maybe he was a fool to think that a new year’s eve kiss on the cheek meant anything to you, or that your odd flirtations were for him only, or that the lingering gazes that you both held were special. Jungkook wishes he had taken the plunge then itself- maybe if he had been a little selfish and just kissed you and confessed to you his feelings…

It stings. It stings more than it should. Jungkook has only just crossed into friendship with you- who was he to think that you were attracted to him? But he can’t help it. Jungkook wants you, plain and simple. He wants you so bad, he wants you to be his so bad, that it aches.

He’d treat you so well.

Usually, a good gym session is all he needs to get rid of this type of pent up energy. But today, the image of you with Mark is seared in his mind and he can’t get rid of it despite his best efforts.

So he leaves the gym after racking up the weights and goes home, where he’s certain you’ll still remain lingering in his mind.

Seokjin has been trying to reach out to you for the last few days. His texts and phone calls to you go unanswered for the most part, but you do at least indicate that you’re alive. You tell him that you just need time.

Because really, you can’t believe that you hadn’t realized that Mark was asking you on a date. You can’t believe you didn’t recognize the signs and you can’t believe you thought it was just dinner with a colleague.

Mark and the team are still in Seoul, much to the addition of your anxiety. You keep him at arm’s length, not allowing him to take an inch from you. You limit your smiles, the eye contact… Anything that apparently could have fooled him into thinking that you were interested in him.

Your head hurts. You feel incredibly stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But how could you know? It’s not like anyone routinely shows you interest in that way. Or maybe you just never realized, or thought about it. You shouldn’t blame yourself for genuinely not knowing, you know that. But you can’t help but feel guilty about potentially hurting Mark. And the people around you.

Namely, Jungkook. Jungkook who won’t look at you the way he usually does, with warmth and stars in his doe eyes. His eyes are cold when he meets your gaze and you feel like shrinking into the floor. You’re nervous to text him, feeling odd and out of place. You hate to wonder your place in someone’s life, and you hate that you’re spiraling like this. So you just don’t, because that’s your default and it hurts less.

You miss him. You find yourself remembering how his cheeks felt against your lips, how warm he felt when you had fallen asleep on him on the airplane, even when he had held onto you and pressed his forehead to yours at the bar. It feels like so long ago at this point. But you can’t recall a time you’d ever felt so intrinsically warm with someone in that way.

It’s different with Jin- the warmth you feel around Jin is very different to how you feel around Jungkook. It confuses you.

The only thing you’re sure of is that you’re tired and you miss him. It seems like the only thing you’re good at is hurting people and pushing them away. Your confusion feels so silly. Like you’re making things complicated when they shouldn’t be.

It all feels incredibly silly to you. You scoff at yourself.

So you decide on the last day that the Tokyo team is meant to be in Seoul, that you’d be working from home. You told Namjoon that you weren’t feeling great (which is true) and had come down with a fever and chills (not true, but Namjoon doesn’t need to know that). You also let your boss know that you’d be working from home, and he sends you an email of acknowledgement. To which you roll your eyes to.

Needless to say, you’re thankful that you have an appointment with your therapist scheduled for that afternoon.

After your appointment, you’re feeling much more settled and a little better. Your head doesn’t feel like it’s garbled, and your thoughts begin to make sense. It’s what you love about Dr. Lee- she’s your compass and helps you melt things down so that they make sense to you.

You make yourself a cup of tea for you and Grandma before logging back into work. Stretching your muscles and your neck, you stand outside in your small backyard with your phone in your hands.

You let out a sigh, your thumb instantly scrolling to your text message thread with Jin:

you: hi

And of course, he replies in seconds. Because you know he’s waiting for you to come to him.

jin: hey there you: want to come over? For dinner? I’ll get wine for us jin: be there at 6 you: okay, see you then

And after a moment of thought-

you: 💗💗 jin: <33

Another sigh escapes your lips, and you head back inside to have your tea and finish up a few things at work.

Jin is seated at your dining table at 6:10 PM, and Grandma gets the sense that you both have things to discuss. You and Jin have dinner with her and you’re watching him quietly. You watch him fill in the gaps of conversation, the gaps that you’re feeling a little nervous to fill.

Grandma excuses herself about an hour later to watch television in her bedroom and you’re left alone with Jin.

It’s just Jin. He’s your best friend, and your nerves begin to fizzle out.

“Want to sit on the couch with me?” You ask, gesturing behind you. He nods and helps you clear the table and takes both of your glasses of wine to place on the coffee table.

You sit on the couch facing him with your legs tucked under you and he does the same.

“I’m sorry I freaked out and yelled at you in the parking lot. And avoided you ever since,” You murmur, meeting his eyes despite the heat that floods your cheeks.

Jin sighs and takes your hand in his and squeezes. “And I’m sorry I ambushed you. And didn’t give you any context.”

“I just…” You trail off, huffing to gather your thoughts, “Hate the idea that you guys all just… knew. Because Mark said something about it. A-and I didn’t even realize his intentions, like, what does that even make me? What does that mean about me that I can’t even realize when a guy is asking me out on a date?”

This time you do avert your eyes, embarrassment rushing through you.

“It’s not your fault,” Jin sighs again, “You don’t know what you don’t know. He should’ve been clear with his intentions from the beginning. He should know better than to ask you out at work, of all places.”

“He texts me sometimes, but I never thought anything of it. I mean, even when we were in Tokyo! Looking back, I guess… Maybe the signs were there. But I didn’t…”

“I know,” Jin says, “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ve been out of the dating pool too long,” You joke, trying to lighten the mood, “Got dusty cobwebs and all that, I’m basically undateable at this point-”

“That’s not true at all,” Jin says seriously, thoughts flitting to Jungkook for a minute, “I think you just...need someone a little more straightforward. Are you into Mark?”

“I told you I wasn’t. I mean sure, he’s cute, I guess. But no, I don’t really want to get to know him like that.”

“Then that’s the end of it,” Jin shrugs, “It’s literally that simple. Don’t overthink it.”

“Okay.”

Another beat of silence. You wring your hands together in your lap, biting your lip. Jin waits for you to speak. He’s very accustomed to your habits when you’re gathering your thoughts.

“Is it bad? That I don’t want to know him like that?” You ask unsurely, “I mean, I know it’s not bad- but, like, what if-”

“If you’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it,” Jin says simply, “Like I said, don’t overthink it.”

“How did you know you were feeling it? With Yuna?” You ask curiously, “Like, I mean, what if I’m just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn?”

Jin says your name softly. “Everyone’s different. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you interested in anyone… But with Yuna, it didn’t take that long. I was thinking about her at the randomest times.

“Like… what’s her coffee order? What’s she eating for lunch? Would she like what I’m having for lunch? Is she okay? Is she happy? And then the more I got to know her… It was like, someday she’s gonna be the woman I’m gonna go to bed with and wake up with. I just know it.”

“Oh, Jinnie,” You sniff, and pull him towards you for a hug, “I’m happy. I’m so happy that you’re happy.”

Jin holds you for a few moments, rubbing your back and waiting for your breaths to even out.

“I’m gonna ask you something, and you might not like it,” Jin says bluntly, but softly.

“Whenever you say things like that, it makes my stomach ache.”

“Jungkook. You like him?”

“Like as a person? Of course I do. He’s nice, he’s sweet, smart, funny, sensitive… We’re friends, did you know that?” You nudge his shoulder with your elbow playfully, “He’s pretty great. You know, I was really mean to him in the beginning when he first joined. And for what? He’s so...he’s so wonderfully him and it’s genuinely nice to be around him. I feel good, I feel great when I’m with him. Like… I want to be better when- what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jin’s eyes are warm, his lips pulled into a knowing smile. You raise a confused eyebrow at him.

“I knew it,” Jin says, “I fuckin’ knew it. I see the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. You both think you’re so slick-”

“Wait. Knew… what?” You ask, trailing off. Because the pieces are suddenly coming together as if they had always been there. They just needed a little push in the right direction. All of a sudden, your heart feels like it’s about to slam straight out of your chest. It hits you like a freight train with a bolt of lightning surging down your spine. You gasp, your lips parted and stare at Seokjin for a long few seconds. Jin sees an epiphany bloom in your eyes, and he already knows what it is.

You like Jungkook.

“Say it,” Jin says in a hushed whisper, “Say it, I know you want to.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Edward Cullen wannabe,” You mutter, but your face is heated. “Don’t make me say it,” You whine.

He only looks at you with a smug grin on his stupid face. Because you have a giant crush on Jeon Jungkook, and the realization hits you faster and harder than possibly anything else in your near 30 years of life has ever hit you before.

“Jin, what the hell,” You complain but you’re smiling, “I like him. I think I really like him.”

“Finally,” Jin exhales, “You’ve been so happy since you’ve gotten closer to him. I’m happy that you’re happy. And that he makes you happy. Might have to rough him up a little bit if he didn’t.”

You snort, roll your eyes, and mumble for him to shut up.

“I can’t remember the last time… I ever liked someone,” You say in a hushed voice.

“Do you like like him,” Jin teases and you swat his shoulder.

“I’m serious, Jin,” You say, “I think I’ve liked him for a while. And it took… till now to understand it. Isn’t that something?”

“It is something,” Jin nods, “You think he’s hot? He’s sexy? You must be so wound up- working so closely with him but not-”

You throw a pillow at him and laugh loudly. “Oh my god, shut up. He’s so fuckin’ hot, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jin only smiles at you, teasing you some more. You feel light once the realization and confession is out in the open, as if you’re floating on air.

It feels good.

Jungkook isn’t in the office today, and he wasn’t in the office the day before either. He has an out of office automated message set up, and he’s been offline for forty-two hours.

Weird. The last time he was out of the office, he had let you know beforehand. Maybe he’s sick?

But your text to him had gone unanswered. His read receipts are typically on, but your text to him just says ‘delivered’. You give him a few hours, pushing him out of your mind for a few hours to finish up some work.

You could ask Namjoon. Or even Jin. But you want to reach out to Jungkook on your own. Once you get into your car after work, your thumb hovers over his contact name. With a rush of tender courage, you call him.

Your stomach flips. The line rings and rings… until you hear a groggy voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Jungkook says hoarsely. He sounds tired and stuffy, like his face is pressed into a pillow. His eyes are barely open, barely registering that it’s you calling him.

It’s only when you softly call his voice that things become a little clearer to him. He slowly sits up in bed, wincing at the movement. He’s a sweaty, sticky mess but it looks like his fever has passed as he slept.

And now he’s hungry.

“Hey, Jungkook,” You murmur, scratching your chin a little nervously, “You’ve been gone so I was just… making sure you were okay.”

You were making sure he was okay? Is he hearing that correctly? His heart lurches and sings. He can barely catch a breath.

“Just sick,” Jungkook groans raspily, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Been miserable the last few days.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” You say, pulling a soft laugh from him, “Glad you’re okay for the most part, JK. Feel better soon.”

“You miss me or somethin’,” Jungkook says without thinking twice. His voice is congested but even you can hear the sweet note of his flirting in its undercurrent.

“‘Course I do. This place isn’t the same without my Bambi,” You say easily. Jungkook hears the smile in your voice.

That’s new. Your Bambi. Jungkook won’t deny that in his post-fever addled brain, it’s the sweetest thing he’s heard. Even if he almost always playfully chastises you for calling him Bambi, he won’t this time.

Before you can abandon your courage, you force yourself to ask- “Since you’re sick… Grandma makes a great galbitang and I can make you some baesuk. I mean- if- I don’t want to- God, I don’t want to overstep. I just thought-”

“Hey,” Jungkook cuts across you, his voice calm and steady as ever despite the phlegm in his chest, “It’s just me. Take your time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to take a breath, despite the hammering in your chest. “I want to bring galbitang and make baesuk for you because you’re sick and I miss you. Is that okay or is that too much?”

Straightforward. You like straightforward. You’ve never been to his apartment building (though he’s told you where he lives) and you feel like you’ve jumped about five steps. But it feels right. It’s him, so it feels right.

“You don’t have to go out of your way for me,” Jungkook protests weakly before coughing for about fifteen seconds.

“Kook, you sound like shit. I want to,” You murmur, “And seeing you is an extra bonus.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

It appears that Jungkook is brave when he’s sick.

“No, I just like you,” You shrug. He can do what he wants with that information. You miss the sharp exhale of his breath. “I can come over… around six-thirty or seven?” Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “Drive safe. See you soon, sweetheart.”

The pet name slips out without him even realizing it and sends your heart into an immediate frenzy. “Uh, b-bye, Jungkook. See you soon.” You stammer and hang up, unable to stop yourself from screeching alone in your car.

You immediately call Jin to shout and screech (maybe cry a little, because you’re overwhelmed) to him about this recent development.

Jungkook can barely believe that you are in his apartment, much less, pouring soup into a bowl for him. He feels almost meek- do you like his living space? He can’t bring himself to expend energy on wondering what your thoughts are.

But he hopes you like where he lives. And he hopes this isn’t the only time you’re here.

“I’ll give you some baesuk after you eat,” You murmur, sitting next to him. Your thighs touch his, and he wants to tell you to sit away from him so that you don’t get sick. But he won’t deny himself of the soft heat of your legs next to his.

“Thank you,” Jungkook rasps, “You really didn’t have to…”

“I know. I wanted to,” You murmur with a shrug and a small smile. You both sit in silence, the noise from his television in the center of his living room blending in as background noise. You finally take a look around, looking at the pictures on the wall and the accents in the living room that are so very Jungkook. You don’t know Taehyung very well, but you see accents of him, too- in the small pieces of art placed tastefully in specific areas of what you can see in the apartment.

“I like your place. It’s very you,” You say off-handedly, meeting his eyes. His cheeks are filled with soup and he’s mid chew, dark eyes wide.

“Oh. Thanks,” Jungkook says after chewing fully.

He tries to tell you about where both him and Taehyung got inspiration for the different things that they decided to put in their apartment, but he’s overcome by a bout of coughing. He coughs into his elbow (something you immediately notice) and you don’t hesitate to move closer to him and rub his back soothingly.

Even if he’s wearing a thick, grey hoodie, he can feel the heat of your touch through the layers. You don’t move your hand once his coughing subsides, and for that he’s grateful.

“Take it easy, Jungkook,” You murmur. Part of you, a very small but loud part of you, wants to wrap yourself around him and press your body heat into his. He shivers a little, and that’s all the persuasion you need to wrap your arm around his and press yourself into his side. Jungkook lets out another shaky exhale before relaxing with your touch, all while you rub his upper arm.

“You’re freezing,” You say softly, “Are you feeling better?”

“‘M feeling better with you, sweetheart,” Jungkook murmurs, casting his eyes to yours. His browns are tired, fatigue swirling in them. But still, he looks at you in wonder. As he always does.

Your face feels warm, but still you leave your arm looped with his.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Jungkook groans, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“‘M not,” You shrug, “Besides, I have Grandma’s secret galbitang even if I do.”

Jungkook only hums, unable to manage anything more than that.

“Did you eat today?”

Jungkook gives you a noncommittal grunt and you shake your head at him. “Wanted to sleep. Fever broke when you called me.”

And if an image of Jungkook’s sweaty torso flashes in your head, then that’s nobody’s business but your own. You nudge his shoulder with your hand, whispering for him to drink the baesuk you made for him.

“That’s good,” You say absently.

“Tell me about your day,” Jungkook says, a soft demand. He presses his lips to the glass of baesuk and drinks generously.

You rattle off the events of the day- it was rather uneventful for the most part. Just meetings, and doing some work in between. You tell him you missed him at lunch with Namjoon, Sana and Jin. And how the gym felt empty without him.

Once Jungkook finishes the drink, he promptly drops his head in your lap. A gasp of surprise escapes your lips, but you can’t help the smile of fondness from spreading. His hair looks so fluffy, a little messy… Part of you wants to rub his scalp for him and soothe him. Would he like it? People like that right? You always like when Grandma did that for you.

So you listen to that part of you and tentatively press your fingertips into his hair, combing his hair lightly with your fingers. And then rubbing his scalp gently. He groans into your thigh in contentment, nearly purring.

Your heart is thundering away in your chest at the new feeling of his head in your lap- the intimacy of such an action sets you on edge. But you embrace it. You can’t think of another time when someone has trusted you so implicitly like this.

You like him like this. You like him like anything.

tags: @koo-zy

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts x reader

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jenonctcity · 4 years

Text

My Ending - Part 1

Differences – Na Jaemin

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetracer!Au

Disclaimer: This is going to be a very dark themed story, please do not read if you are triggered easily by the mentioned subjects in the warnings.

I recommend reading Jeno’s story first so that it’s easier for you to understand the timeline and plot of this story.

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Mention of Suicide Attempts, Mental Health Issues (Depression and Anxiety), Mentions of Drug Use/Overdose, Mention of Drug Addiction Effecting Baby After Birth.

Word Count: 5k

Jaemin was used to living his life in black and white. His whole life had always been a mix of muggy grey, never having experienced enough positive emotion for a long enough period that flecks of colour could mix into his greyscale life. Of course he had happy moments, excited moments, moments of enthusiasm, and moments of hope. He wasn’t a robot. But he found that it was the sad moments, fearful moments, moments of anxiety, and moments of anger that outweighed all other emotions and lead his world to darken in colour. It all started when he was born. Born to a drug addict mother, and a father who had long since ran away from the responsibilities of raising a child. He had been born a month early with his body uncontrollably shaking, his body craving the heroin that his mother had been shooting when she was carrying him. He had been taken from her immediately and his grandmother on his fathers’ side had stepped up to take on the responsibility of raising the precious, underdeveloped baby.

The first few years of Jaemin’s life had been rough. He was significantly smaller than most of the children his age, and he didn’t start walking until he was two years old, almost a year later than he should have, and he had such a low immune system that he was constantly falling ill and being taken in and out of hospital. It was a tough challenge for his grandmother, but she adored her little miracle and did everything she could to keep him alive and happy. They’d hoped that Jaemin’s growth would catch up with him by the time he started school, but their hopes didn’t pan out, and he was still much smaller than all of the other children. On top of that, he struggled to keep up with the level of learning and was picked on by the other children for his tiny frame, lack of knowledge, and also, lack of parents. His teenage years weren’t much better. Even though he soon caught up with everybody in the height and education department, it wasn’t the bullying that bothered him anymore, it was the emotional scars that sat inside of his head like a poisonous fog, taunting him like those kids had through all of his school years.

He couldn’t understand why his mother had done what she’d done, and why she didn’t love him in the way a mother should love her son. He had seen his mother so little that he could count each encounter on one of his hands. Which is why as he walked back into the apartment, wearing his suit and holding the funeral programme that had a picture of his mother on the front, he felt numb. He let out a soft sigh as he sat down on the sofa beside Jeno, chucking the papers onto the coffee table in front of him and running a hand through his blond hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. Jeno didn’t physically react to Jaemin’s arrival apart from letting a soft smile tug at the corners of his lips. After a silence of five minutes with Jaemin just started absentmindedly into thin air, Jeno spoke up.

“How did it go?” Jeno’s voice was soft, his head still facing towards the quiet television as reruns of spongebob played.

“How did you know it was me?” Jaemin glanced at his blind friend, raising an eyebrow and trying not to put too much amusement in his tone, not feeling like he should be joking around after being to his mother’s funeral.

“Haechan is in his room, and Renjun is out picking Jiyeon up. I heard the door open and couldn’t hear Jiyeon shouting for one of her uncles so I just did the mystery solving and figured out it would be you.” He shrugged, a weak laugh vibrating off of his chest before he sighed. “You didn’t answer my question Jaem.” Jaemin sighed once more, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs and resting his head back against the sofa.

“It was fine…” He couldn’t quite pinpoint the feelings rushing around inside of him. He felt anger, sadness, a dash of regret, but mostly relief. Anger because he was angry that she never made a proper effort with him, just brushing him aside and acting as if the drugs she owned were her precious child rather than the actual baby she’d made and given birth to. Sadness because he could never make amends with her and have the bond that most mothers and sons have. Regret because he knew once he hit the age of sixteen and was able to make sensible decisions for himself, he could have been the one to make the effort. And relief because he knew he didn’t have to spend nights worrying if the money he had sent his mother was being used to buy drugs instead of keeping food in her mouth. Relief because she couldn’t hurt herself anymore. Relief because the reason his depression was gone. Not that she took his mental health problems with her to the grave, but it gave Jaemin a horribly sick satisfaction that he could only diagnose as revenge. Which made him want to weep at how his brain could even think of something as horrid at that. Jaemin felt awful that he was thankful for Jeno’s blindness, so that he couldn’t see the tears that dribbled down his cheeks, silent sobs for the mother he spent so many nights crying over as a child, wishing for the mother he never had.

“Are you sure? It’s okay not to be okay.” Jaemin wanted to squeeze Jeno for how sweet the boy was being, but he just let out a huff of a laugh and wiped his tears away. He glanced down at his hands, gulping back the lump in his throat as his mind drifted to the nervous breakdown that Jeno had experienced only a week prior. Jeno had hit his breaking point and had expressed how much he worries about Jaemin, because of Jaemin’s previous failed suicide attempts that had clearly chipped away at Jeno’s mental stability. Jaemin felt the pit in his stomach he usually got when he was at his lowest mentally, but he didn’t want to pile more worries onto Jeno’s plate, so he faked a smile, despite Jeno’s lack of sight, it was more for himself than anyone else. Besides, it had been over two years since Jaemin had last attempted to take his own life, and he felt like he’d moved on from that stage of his life. He hoped.

“I’m fine, you haven’t got to worry about me.”

“Okay, because my kid is going to need its Uncle Nana to be a happy bastard not a moody bastard.” Jeno let out an amused laugh, trying to lighten the tone. It worked, the thought of Jeno’s unborn child bringing a big smile to his face.

“Uncle Nana is going to be its favourite per-” Jaemin was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He fished it out of his blazer pocket and answered it quickly when he saw the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr Na?” An unfamiliar male voice sounded through the phone, the voice calm and deep.

“It is.”

“I’m just calling to inform you that your grandmother has had a fall, the paramedics are with her now and the carer who was there when it happened is still there. I’ve been told that there hasn’t been any extensive damage, but I thought it would be best to let you know, as you’re the emergency contact.” Jaemin felt his world almost crumble in on him for a moment, the words about her not having much damage cooled him down slightly, but the panicked fire burning in his stomach was still very much alight.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know.” He hung up the call and gulped down the fireball of anxiety blazing in his throat. He was on his feet before he knew it, digging his keys out of his pocket. “My grandma fell over; I’ll be back soon.” He mumbled to Jeno, his mind foggy so he didn’t even hear Jeno’s gasp and quick ‘Is she okay!?’ before he was out of the door, sprinting down the stairs, and practically jumping into his car. He didn’t even look at the speed he was driving at because he didn’t care, all he cared about was seeing his grandmother and confirming the man on the phones statement that she was okay. He stopped out the front of her house and ran to the door, letting himself in with shaky hands and looking at the paramedics as they packed up their stuff in the entranceway.

“I’m her grandson, is she okay?!” His words came out so fast that the paramedic he’d aimed the question at almost didn’t understand what he’d said. “Is she?!” He repeated, a sheen of sweat on his forehead from his panic.

“She is, son,” The male paramedic addressed Jaemin, giving him a calming smile and pat on the arm. “We’ve given her some pain medication, and she’ll have a large bruise on her hip, but she didn’t fall hard enough to break anything. She’s just gone to sleep; I would leave it a little while before you disturb her though.” Jaemin nodded along, taking in all of the information with a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, thank you so much for taking care of her.” They bid their goodbyes and left, shutting the door behind them as Jaemin made his way into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes trained on you stood by the kitchen sink with your back to him, wearing what looked like hospital scrubs over the tops of a long-sleeved floral top. Your shoulders were shaking gently as you let out all of your emotions, having assumed you were now alone in the house seeing as you heard the front door shut. Jaemin cleared his throat, causing you to squeal in surprise and turn around fast, a spatula that you’d grabbed out of the washing up bowl now in your hand being held up as a weapon.

“Who are you?!” Your eyes were wide, and if it wasn’t so comical, Jaemin would have been absolutely speechless from how stunning he found your features. He had an amused smile on his face as he quickly held his hands up in surrender.

“My name is Jaemin, I’m the grandson! Please don’t…spatula me.” You sighed in relief, lowering the spatula onto the drying rack. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I apologise.” He stepped forward, giving you a small bow. You bowed back and smiled politely, trying to ignore the heat that flooded your cheeks from the embarrassing encounter, also he was gorgeous, and it took you by surprise. You suddenly remembered your wet cheeks, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears away. “Are you okay?”

“Apology accepted, I’m (Y/N), I’m fine…it was just, really…hard to watch you know?” You nodded, sending him a weak smile with a quick nod. He tilted his head and poked his tongue into his cheek in thought.

“You’re my grandma’s carer?” He took a seat at the dining table, fiddling with the tablemat as he kept his eyes on you. The more you looked at him, the more you recognised him from the photos that were dotted around the house. He looked a lot different though, more mature and with more tattoos. One of the tattoos that you noticed were the roman numerals vertically written on his neck, just underneath his left ear, you were curious as to what the number was and to what it meant. He looked handsome in his suit, and you wondered what the occasion was as to why he was wearing such formal wear.

“I am, I haven’t seen you here before…she talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope.” He chuckled, giving you a cheeky wink. You felt the wink inside of your stomach and giggled nervously.

“She adores you!” You sat opposite him at the table, brushing some of your hair behind your ear as you thought about all the stories, she’d told you over the past few months that you’d been one of her carers. “I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you before; she says you visit her a lot.” You furrowed your eyebrows, not being able to understand why you hadn’t seen him in person before.

“I usually visit in the evening times, but I have met a few of the other carers who stop by.” You were only one of the carers from the company who stopped by her house daily. Jaemin was incredibly thankful to the people who took care of his grandma when he couldn’t. He had moved out of her house on his own accord just after Jeno was arrested. He knew he was getting too much of a burden on his grandma, coming home late, throwing up on the carpet when he was too drunk and scaring her when he would admit to being high. And for good reason, considering how he was born addicted to heroin. But despite how much shit Jaemin had gone through in his life, he’d promised his grandmother that he’d never consume heroin. He didn’t want his grandma to be stressed over him, so when the opportunity came about to move in with his friends, he snatched it up as soon as he could. A year after moving out, his grandma stopped being able to get around as much as she could before, and the simplest of tasks got too much for her. So Jaemin took it upon him to hire a carer company to come in throughout the day and cook her meals, wash her clothes, and keep her house tidy. He felt bad that he couldn’t do it himself, but with his dodgy job, he either didn’t have the time, or didn’t want anything bad to happen which could be traced back to his grandma’s house. He dealt with a lot of dangerous people in illegal street racing, and he couldn’t risk his grandmother’s life, that’s why his visits were scarce and in the evening times when it was less likely he was being tracked by anyone. “I must say, you’re definitely the beautiful one.” He winked shamelessly, causing your face to flush. You had to stop yourself from letting out a whine at the compliment, not used to being complimented like that by men you’d only just met.

“Thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips, your hands coming to rest on your hot cheeks. Jaemin smirked and bit his bottom lip, his eyes flicking over your face subtly as he checked you out. You felt your phone ding in your pocket, signifying that you had finished your time at that house and had to move onto the next. “Oh, I have to get going. It was nice meeting you.” You jumped up from the table, grabbing your jacket from the coat rack by the front door and slipping it on. Jaemin followed you and dug his hands into his pockets.

“Likewise.” He opened the door for you and motioned for you to go through first. “I should get going anyway.” He had a race tonight and he needed to get himself ready for it, mentally and physically. He locked the door behind you both and walked down the path to his car. You paused, your mouth popping open as you laid eyes on his expensive looking car.

“Woah…is that yours?!” You almost squeaked, your eyes flicking from the Navy-Blue Mustang Shelby GT350, back to Jaemin. He looked very proud, his posture straightening out and a wide smile on his face.

“Yep!”

“Woooow…” You looked over at your own car, it was super cheap, and you were probably the fifth owner of the run-down looking thing. “It a lot nicer than mine.” You laughed awkwardly, getting out your key to unlock the door, you put your key in the hole and jiggled it around, trying desperately to unlock the old piece of crap. The door almost flew open after you’d succeeded in opening it, and Jaemin smiled kindly at you. “Anyway, see ya around Jaemin!” You hopped into your car, not giving him a chance to reply as you started the rickety engine and slowly drove away. Jaemin got in his own car and let out a soft sigh as he thought back on your slightly odd exchange. He didn’t know you, but he knew he wanted to know you. And he had the perfect plan.

---

Jaemin probably should have felt bad that he was only visiting his grandma twice as much as he normally would because he was hoping and praying to run into you again. His grandma had sensed something was up, and he didn’t even have to admit to her, she already knew that he had the hots for you. Many of his attempts of being at her house when you were there were successful, and he’d helped you in your daily tasks of helping around the house until you heard the familiar sound of your phone alerting you that it was time to leave. He hated that sound. You saw Jaemin as a happy, positive soul, who would do anything to make you laugh. It worked, he often had you in absolute stitches with his comical stories about his friends and the pranks they played on each other. He found out a lot about your life, like how you came from a large family, the oldest of four children and you still lived with your parents due to your job not paying a huge amount of money. He was curious to know why you didn’t bother going to university, instead jumping straight into work life. When he’d asked, you’d simply told him that you just couldn’t wait to start your life, not wanting to spend anymore time in education. It was when you expressed your want to get married and have kids within the next ten years that had Jaemin’s head confirming what his heart was thinking. He had a huge crush on you. It was after you’d found out that the numbers written on his neck signified the date of his grandmothers’ birth, that you realised you had a big fat crush on him too. Jaemin always wore long sleeves shirts, or hoodies, so you didn’t know if he had anymore tattoos on his body apart from the neck tattoo and the rose tattoo on the back of his right hand. But you were curious to find out.

With a stomach full of butterflies, a whole month after your first encounter, Jaemin had finally asked you out. So that’s why you found yourself sat opposite the beautiful boy in a café at 1pm on your day off. His hair was now a light pink, and you thought it suited his face and personality perfectly. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt, with black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. It completing his aesthetic off flawlessly. Also you’d gotten to ride in his fancy car, which was exciting in its own, since you’d never been in a car that expensive before. Jaemin sipped at his black coffee, his eyes meeting your own and causing a tender smile to tug at his lips as he continued on with his story.

“And Jiyeon, Renjun’s daughter, threatened to pee on the floor if she didn’t get a cookie. You should have seen Chenle’s face, it was a comedy gold!” He laughed at the memory, picking at the muffin between you both. He had told you about all of his friends, so you were kind of keeping up with the names. He talked about Chenle a lot.

“Did she get the cookie?” You needed to know how the story finished, your eyes sparkling as you found out more and more about the mysterious boy opposite you. So far all you knew was that his grandmother raised him because his mother was a drug abuser, she died recently, and he lived with the boys he saw as brothers, which included the kids and girlfriends of said brothers. He’d also dished out the gossip on Haechan’s current girlfriend being Jeno’s ex-girlfriend, and Jeno now being blind with a baby on the way. Quite the scandal.

“Of course she did! Uncle Nana gave it to her.” He smiled widely and raised his eyebrows. You titled your head in confusion.

“Uncle Nana?” You asked, curiosity in your tone about this mysterious Uncle Nana.

“That’s me, my last name is Na, so I got the nickname Nana when I was growing up. Nana is easier to say than Jaemin when you’re a toddler.” He popped some of the muffin into his mouth and licked his lips.

“Cute!” Your eyebrows raised and you gazed at him with adoration in your eyes.

“You think so?” He winked, loving all the attention you bestowed upon him, even if cute wasn’t really the image he was going for.

“Mhm!” You sipped at your lemonade and gazed out of the window, seeing Jaemin’s car parked where you’d both left it and turning back to Jaemin. “You must have a good job to afford a car that…wow!” You didn’t miss the way Jaemin’s eyes avoided your gaze, leading you to believe there was more to him owning the car than just a normal job.

“I…okay I’m going to be transparent with you.” He sat up in his chair, leaning in closer to you across the table so that he could lower his voice, audible for only you to hear. “I race cars. That’s not my only car, I have a garage with four other cars in it and I race them to earn my living.” He kept his eyes locked with yours, trying to determine your reaction simply from the look in your eyes. Jaemin liked to think he was good at reading people. He’d been doing it his whole life, having experienced plenty of different emotions from people throughout his life. He couldn’t see anything other than question in your eyes as your narrowed them, trying to wrap your head around it.

“Oh!...is it…legal?” You whispered, running your hand up and down your glass, the condensation on the cold glass smearing and forming little droplets of water under the ministrations of your fingertips. He shook his head, an awkward smile marring his beautiful features.

“No, it’s not. If you get caught racing, you get fined. If you get caught racing more than once, you get your vehicle seized and fined. Then its three strikes and you’re out. Prison time is the punishment for getting caught a third time.” His words had your mouth opening in shock, a little gasp leaving your throat.

“Have you ever been caught?” You didn’t really know how to feel about his confession. You hadn’t ever thought about your opinions on illegal street racing, and it wasn’t fair for you to make a quick judgement about something you knew nothing about, despite it being illegal. It wasn’t really any of your business, so you didn’t care too much. The way you saw it, if you didn’t do anything illegal yourself, then you weren’t in the wrong.

“Nope, I have come close, but no, I’m pretty good at outrunning the police.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself as he sipped at his coffee. “If you aren’t comfortable with it, then we haven’t got to talk about it. I can keep it quiet from you, or we could…go our separate ways after I take you home. It’s your decision.” He sounded slightly sad as he spoke the last words, his head lowering slightly to watch your fingers playing with your glass.

“Oh, no! I…er…like you a lot, and I want to see you again, obviously only if you want to!” Your cheeks felt like they were about to burst into flames, your heart suddenly making you aware of its existence in your chest.

“I want to.” His voice was soft, and his hand snaked across the table to detach your hand from your glass. He wound your fingers together and a pink tinge that resembled the pink rose tattoo on the back of his hand flared up on his cheeks.

“Cool!” You blurted out and then used your free hand to face palm, cringing at your random word vomit.

“Very cool.” Jaemin laughed with you, grabbing your hand to pull it away from your face. “I guess we’re both just super cool!” You both visibly cringed at that and sniggered.

---

The next week was a complete rush for you. But a good rush, a rush you wouldn’t change. You had work five days out of seven, and as soon as your shift had finished, Jaemin would pick you up from your house, and whisk you away on a date. So far, you’d eaten in 7 different restaurants and had enjoyed every single minute of your time with your new boyfriend. That’s right, boyfriend. The two of you made it official on date number three after you both realised that you were basically perfect for each other. The night had ended in a sweet kiss and a long cuddle on your doorstep, which your siblings had roasted you for when you’d walked through the door, because obviously they’d been spying on your from the window as soon as they heard the loud purr of Jaemin’s car stop outside. And on your two days off, Jaemin had spent the both of days entertaining you and impressing you with his date spots. One of your favourite moments was when Jaemin had asked you if you trusted him whilst he was driving. You didn’t even hesitate to give him a quick nod and utter ‘yes’. You felt such a rush inside of you when the car speed up so fast that you felt yourself being pushed into your seat. You also felt a rush at how quickly you’d put your trust in a man you had only known for a month, a man who had admitted to doing illegal things. Jaemin had kept glancing at you, his heart blooming with an unfamiliar feeling when he saw the look of pure joy etched on your angelic face as you found elation in his passion. Of course he kept his driving on the safer side in order not to scare you, and even though he was confident in his driving abilities, keeping you safe was his new priority.

Day number 8 of your date streak found you sitting in Jaemin’s bedroom, legs folded underneath you as you sat opposite Jaemin with a glass of wine in your hand, one of his large hoodies covering up your cocktail dress to keep you warm. You’d been to a bar with him hours earlier, and you’d both drank a little bit too much. So his invite for you to join him in his bedroom had quickly been accepted, and there you sat, sipping at your wine as you laughed at a corny joke he’d cracked.

“Jaemiiiin,” You whined endearingly, leaning your forehead on his shoulder and hiccupping. “I want to know more about you, we should play never have I ever!” Your tipsy brain had you thinking that was the best idea ever, and Jaemin seemed to think the same thing, as he jumped at the opportunity, causing you to sit back again and grin at him.

“Okay! Me first.” He cleared his throat and took a quick mouthful of beer. “Okay, never have I ever…tried oysters.” You sniggered at his choice of words, furrowing your eyebrows at him and not raising your glass.

“I haven’t either! Okay, never have I ever…smoked a cigarette.” He rolled his eyes and raised his bottle of beer to his lips, gulping down a mouthful before pausing to rack his brain for things he hadn’t ever done.

“Never have I ever worn high heels!”

“Oh come on that’s not fair!” You squeal but didn’t hesitate to take a big swig of your wine. “Fine, I’m turning the heat up. Never have I ever had sex anywhere other than on a bed.” You were actually taken aback when he made no effort to drink, a smirk growing on his face. “You haven’t?!” You raised your eyebrows, placing your glass of wine on his bedside table and shuffling closer to him on your knees. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip as he placed his hands gently on your hips, guiding you into his lap.

��You’re surprised.” He laughed softly at his observation, his eyes flicking down to your lips before he leaned in and placed a lingering, hot kiss to your parted lips.

“You’re so hot and kind, I just thought you’d be…kind of experienced in that department.” His lips nipped at your own lips, drawing a silkey kiss between you with his tongue coming out to trace the lining on your bottom lip. “Your turn.” You whispered, sitting all of your weight onto his crotch, confident with how he pulled you closer to his own, warm body. He took a deep breath, a deep laugh vibrating from his chest as he kissed down to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your smooth skin. His next confession had your heart pounding in adoration and your mouth popping open in surprise.

“Never have I ever…had sex.”

---

So this is the start to the end main parts of the series! What are we thinking is going to happen? Let me know! (Please be nice lol) <3

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keyofjetwolf · 4 years

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Just when you thought it was safe to be a piece of shit

I jumped into Season 5 of BoJack this morning, fresh from my rewatch of the entire series, start to finish. I’d already seen all the previous seasons, but it was a couple years ago; S4 was just wrapping up, and I hadn’t touched it since. Not for lack of interest! Quite the contrary, I thought season 4 particularly was some incredibly strong storytelling all around, and I was completely blown away by its penultimate episode “Time’s Arrow”. But there was Life And Things, and I didn’t make the time for S5, so I also didn’t watch S6 when it aired, and by the time I thought about picking it back up, I knew I’d want to rewatch the whole thing to put it all in context, which meant MORE time, and anyway, you can see where @docholligay was finally “Fuck it, I’m sponsoring this.”

All the impetus I needed, clearly. That rewatch I did, and I’m glad for it, as I’d forgotten so many details, AND how fucking good this show is. It’s funny and dark and incredibly uncomfortable in ways that aren’t always flattering, and I love it. I didn’t RE-rewatch “Time’s Arrow” before starting today, but I had to wrestle myself out of it, that’s how much I wanted to.

So it was with some surprise that I found myself not really enjoying Season 5 as much as was expecting.

I SHOULDN’T have expected to. That was my first mistake. We left BoJack in a really good place, with a smile and a hope and the opportunity to maybe maybe maybe finally crawl out of the pit he’s constantly trying to bury himself in. He didn’t have the responsibility of fatherhood, but the promise of brotherhood. Hollyhock is a pretty alright kid, fundamentally fucked up juuuust enough to remind him of himself, and with the kind of love and support he’s always craved. If she can be okay, then maybe he can be okay, too.

Or, from another angle, if she can be okay, then he’ll have the proof he’s always wanted that every bad thing he’s ever done wasn’t REALLY his fault.

OH BOJACK YOU ABSOLUTELY SHIT WILL YOU NEVER LEARN

Maybe at the end of the series you finally will, I don’t know. But certainly not right now. You can’t learn. You never learning is the point.

One of the strengths of the show, though, is how BoJack gets opportunity after opportunity after opportunity to NOT be a piece of shit. To be a better person, to not be so selfish and self-centered and lazy and spiteful and BAD. We know it’s in there! We get these incredible little flashes of the sort of person he could be, if he’d just try a little harder, if he’d just put in the effort to be better today than he was yesterday.

That was my mistake, coming in: BoJack ended Season 4 with the high, and like any good roller coaster, it’s the slow tip at the top that makes the plummet to the bottom so heady.

That’s these beginning episodes of Season 5. Setting the stage(s), arranging the pieces back on the board, getting everything in motion for the drop to come.

WHICH I THINK WE JUST HIT HARD

First, yay Ana Spanakopita! Second: OOO

I love SO hard how this is NOT GOING AWAY. Both in how the show has never played any of this as remotely okay, but also in how it haunts BoJack. It’s his lowest moment, and he’s using it as a finely crafted weapon to bludgeon himself. But WHILE ALSO taking a perverse sort of ... pride isn’t the right word, but desire to have MATTERED in some way, even if it was a truly awful way. His insistence that he’s ruined Penny’s life, despite all apparent evidence to the contrary (see also the incredible “That’s Too Much, Man!”, ps what is with this show and penultimate season enders??), carries a perverse need to have impacted her life, even if that impact was traumatizing for her. The idea that BoJack could have mattered so little is MORE abhorrent to him than the actions themselves.

THAT IS INDEED TOO MUCH MAN I SEE YOU SHOW

So now we have what I think is the last tip before we go into free fall. BoJack is trying (kinda) to drink less and be sober more. He’s trying (kinda) to be a good friend to Princess Carolyn and Diane. HE ACTUALLY CONNECTED SOME DOTS ALL ON HIS OWN ABOUT FEMINISM. That I put that in caps, by the way, further makes the show’s point about how low our bar is for men on this, and well fucking done, by the way, kudos.

Will all that ACTUALLY mean BoJack is going to do better? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? He’s about to be tested again, another opportunity is approaching. What he’ll do with that is the entire show premise. But whichever path he takes this time would mean so much less without these slower episodes establishing for us where he, and everyone else, are standing. It’s a thing I dearly love about Bojack Horseman: it takes the time it needs to give you insight into where the characters are and what’s around them.

It gives the characters enough rope to hang themselves.

SPEAKING OF HOW’S THAT GOING FOR YOU DIANE

Diane is such an interesting character, in a show pretty much overflowing with interesting characters. She makes such a good compare/contrast with BoJack, in that it’s easy to look at Diane and say “What a good person!” She’s smart and funny, if awkward and plain (by Hollywoo standards). She’s socially and politically aware and cares about important issues. She wants to make the world better!

Only, does she? Much like BoJack, Diane is given opportunity after opportunity to Do Good, both personally and professionally. And she tries! (Most times, sort of.) It often blows up in her face, or isn’t what she expected, or it gets really hard, but she tries! Until she doesn’t. Until she runs back home, and can’t face her husband and the reality of her giving up, so she hides at BoJack’s house and stays drunk for months. Until she gets what she wants, and keeps getting what she wants, and then ruining it all because she never actually wanted it. and doesn’t know what to do once she has it anyway.

Like I said, she and BoJack can be frighteningly alike.

If I had to pick an overall favourite character, though, it’d probably be Princess Carolyn.

Oh she’s fucked up too, but in a much more together sort of way. She’s as much the voice of reason as is anyone in this show, and I want her to get her little family SO MUCH. (Jesus wept, I forgot all about “Ruthie” until my rewatch and it PUNCHED ME IN THE FUCKING GUT.) These first few episodes though didn’t really do a hell of a lot for PC though, save for basically having her ONE AGAIN wound up in BoJack’s terrible, terrible orbit.

If that sounds like a complaint, it isn’t. I love the way the show explores the push and the pull, how it’s one thing to want to leave someone, to know you SHOULD leave someone, and yet how hard that can be. How even when you make that break, the potential to fall back into bad habits never really leaves you. EVERYTHING about this show is difficult, for everybody, all the time, and nothing good happens without effort.

Unless, of course, you’re Mr. Peanutbutter.

If you thought I’d love Mr. Peanutbutter, well, YOU’RE RIGHT I DO. And I’m DEEPLY interested in where ultimately his character is going to go. Of all the main characters, I feel he’s the one with the least depth to him, but then I think that’s the point, too. Every protagonist needs a foil, and for BoJack, that would be Mr. Peanutbutter, the guy who life has basically handed everything, including being generally too stupid to feel bad about anything, especially himself.

But that’s not entirely true. For all that he’s BoJack’s bright, sunny, charisma-filled opposite, no matter what he tried to do for Diane, it wasn’t enough. And as his third wife, it’s probably safe to say he tried hard with his previous wives too, with equal success. The show plays up the dog element of Mr. Peanutbutter a bit harder than it does many of the other animal people on the show, and included in that is how “his person” is the true center of Mr. PB’s world. But he can’t hold them, he can’t keep them wanting to be around him, and while it’s quickly undercut with a laugh, he more than once expressed genuine fear that Diane would leave him. Now she has, and while we’ve not yet seen any fallout from that (focusing instead on how he’s immediately found a new girlfriend), I strongly suspect we will.

I’m not sure if this “tough guy role” situation is going to go further than the episode in which it featured, but I DO think it has long-term potential as the latest in a string of things Mr. PB has wanted, but couldn’t make happen for himself, and how unusual that is for him. He’s the cheerful optimistic one, sure, but what does that mean when he’’s also never really felt any of life’s pressures to be otherwise?

Then there was Todd.

Todd, I pretty much never know what the fuck they’re going to do with you, and after these four episodes, I see we’re not going to change that now. I did some thinking on Todd though, on his place in what I feel are the show’s overarching themes, and I THINK Todd is by and large an example of what we should strive for. He’s kind and generous, he loves to help and is always there when people need him, and perhaps embodying what I think is the show’s greatest message, even when Todd fucks up, he keeps trying.

Of all the main characters, I think Todd has grown the most, to the point where he pretty much doesn’t even INTERACT with BoJack any more. (NOR SHOULD HE.) Todd is getting really good about setting (and enforcing!) his boundaries, to the point where he’s developing his own circle of characters outside of the show. They even make a fucking JOKE about it.

Every season, Todd is feeling like he fits in less with this show, but I don’t think that’s the show not knowing what to do with him, I think it’s by design. Todd is outgrowing this story, he’s moving on, and it’s hard not to be happy for him for that.

We’ll see, of course. We’re only four episodes in, and if we stick with my roller coaster analogy, there’s a whole lot of track left ahead of us. Wherever we’re set to go, the one thing I feel pretty confident in is that it won’t be a smooth ride for anyone.

#jet wolf watches bojack #a novel by jet wolf

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meat-husband · 5 years

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Hey! Can you do something NSFW with possesive jealous Jason with a fem reader?

I got a bit carried away with this one, so hopefully it still fits the possessive/jealous theme.

Naughty stuff under the cut.

The ride back home was nerve wracking. In the bumpy passenger seat of an old pickup you bit your nails, glancing out the window nervously as the trees went by.

“Wow,” the man next to you said under his breath, eyes following the dense trees and brush on either side of the road. At first you just thought he was taken by the scenery - you weren’t a very outdoorsy person yourself, despite your living situation, but everyone in town always mentioned how beautiful it was up here - but it was clear with his next comment that the landscape wasn’t what was on his mind.

“You must not be afraid of those urban legends about this place, then, to be livin’ so far out.”

You forced a smile on your face, shaking your head in response. This was the topic that nearly everyone wanted to bring up with you around, and it was tiring.

“Nope,” you said quietly. “Just stories.”

“Well,” he scoffed, looking like he didn’t believe you. “Those murders aren’t stories, ya know. Whoever did it, they were real. You know what I reckon happened-“

You half listened to his take on the validity of the town’s most famous story, eyes back to the window. Your own car had crapped out on you just outside the grocery store parking lot, full to bursting with weeks worth of food and fuel and no way to get it home. It was a small enough town that the local mechanic was towing it away within the hour, promising to give you a call in the morning, and sending you on your way in his brother’s truck. The brother was a nice man, friendly whenever you had seen him in town, and kind enough to wave away your offer of payment for the trip, but you just wanted to get home.

This whole thing probably wasn’t going to go over well with Jason. You’d snuck out, first of all, slipping out around noon when he was out of the cabin, intending to make the trip to the store you had been needing to make for a month or more. If that wasn’t bad enough, you were coming back in the car of a strange man, hours later than your goodbye note had stated. Anxiety tightened your stomach at the thought of how angry he was going to be. Thankfully you had enough supplies to last you for the next few months, because you’re sure he’s not going to be open to the idea of another trip into town.

“Take a right here, on the trail.” You instruct, cutting him off mid-sentence. He looks offended for half a second, then turns to look at the little dirt path you had indicated.

“That one?” He asks, hesitating to turn the truck. You see nervousness on his face, and he looks like he’s contemplating leaving you here to carry things back on your own, but after a moment he makes the turn.

“Thanks again,” you sigh, truly grateful not to be lugging all that stuff down the trail. “I owe you a coffee next time I’m in town.”

He laughs, still with a hint of anxiety, but it’s genuine. “With all that stuff in the back I don’t expect to be seein’ you for quite a while, honey!”

“Yeah, well, next time you do it’s on me.”

The cabin is looming ahead now, sticking out like a shadow against the evening sky. It will be dark in an hour or so, but you’re glad to have gotten home with some daylight to spare. He pulls up in front of the porch, turning the truck so the flat bed is closest to the steps, and turns it off.

“Go on and unlock your door, I’ll help you get all this inside.”

You step out of the truck timidly, half expecting something to happen the moment you close the door. There are no lights on inside, and the porch light is off as well, but the door is already unlocked when you go to open it. That just makes the pit in your stomach feel deeper, but a quick peek into the house shows an empty room.

Turning back, you stop the man as he comes towards the house with an armful of groceries.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, we can just get things unloaded here. It’ll be dark soon, you’ll want to be on your way back, I’m sure.”

He looks unsure, perhaps torn between helping a woman in need and getting the hell out of the woods. “It’s no trouble, now, and you got a lot to be gettin’ inside.”

You take the bags in his arms, sitting them on the porch, ignoring his fussing. “No, I’d rather have you on the road before the sun goes down. I don’t mind making a few trips inside!”

He agrees after that, helping to pile up your things on the porch, and around the stairs when the room runs out there. You thank him again once everything is unloaded, and he promises a call from his brother about your car first thing in the morning. You feel relieved as his tail lights fade away in the distance, glad at least that he made it out without running into Jason.

Speak of which, it was time for you to go inside and face him yourself. With a shaky breath, you step inside, turning on a few flickering lamps as you go, but seeing no sign of him. The living room is empty, and the little kitchen appears to be as well, from what you can see from your spot by the couch.

“Jason?” You call, not half as loudly as you’d meant to. You’re afraid of how he’s going to react, but you know it’s not going to be good, so you might as well get it over with.

“Please come out, I’m home now.”

A noise draws your attention to the hall, where Jason is lurking just beyond where the light reaches. He steps forward into the room, silent as always, but radiating anger.

You look away, head down and hands trembling. He doesn’t move, not yet, but you know it’s only a matter of time. He wouldn’t hurt you, you’re sure of that completely, but knowing how angry you’ve made him, how upset he must be, you don’t want to look up and see that hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice low. “I didn’t mean… there was a problem, I had to…”

You couldn’t quite find the words, knowing that none of them would soothe him. You look up slightly, hoping that the situation is a little better than you think, but his eyes are shiny with rage, hands in fists at his sides. He’s standing on the other side of the room, but you’re intimidated enough that he might as well be right in front of you.

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes as you lower your gaze again. He hated you leaving anyways, and you had betrayed his trust by leaving and by bringing a stranger here, where you had both hidden away together. You had to leave, you couldn’t survive off of whatever scraps could be found in the woods, but the guilt sat in your stomach heavily despite that.

Loud steps, banging off the walls in the small space, startle you. By the time you look up he’s already there, reaching a dirty hand towards your face, but not touching. You wonder briefly if he’s mad enough to hurt you, if that’s what has halted his movements, and feel even guiltier for thinking it.

Jason holds his hand next to you, watching you through the mask as a sweat breaks out over your face. You feel his fingers twitch, ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you struggle to stay perfectly still, afraid to break the tension. You feel a warm breath hit the side of your face, the smell like wet leaves and soil, and his hand lunges, digging fingers into your hair and pulling.

With a harsh jerk you’re pulled around, heart beating so hard you can’t hear anything else, forced up against the arm of the dingy couch. You bring a hand up to pull at his, squirming against the solid body pressing you against the armrest.

“Jason, I’m sorry,” you gasp, fear coiling in your stomach. “I didn’t-“

He leans over you, chest pressing the back of your head into the cushions, hips trapped between his own and the curve of the couch. The hand is out of your hair, now on your shoulder and pressing you down, and your struggling is nothing compared to the strength above you.

The familiar ridge pressed into your abdomen catches you off guard. His breath comes out in huffs and pants, curled around you so closely that you can look directly into his uneven eyes, usually hidden behind the mask. He still looks angry, eyes narrowed and glaring, but he’s grinding his dick against you so hard you feel like your spine is going to snap.

You’re still shaking, a little unsure, but now you’re feeling horrible that you’d ever thought he might harm you. He’s upset, but you’re more than willing to help him work off some anger after being the cause of all the trouble.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper again, pressing your hands to either side of his face and kissing the mask. “I won’t do it again, I didn’t want to make you worry.”

With a ragged groan he mashes the mask against your lips, trying to return the kiss, hips grating against you rapidly. You put your hands on his chest, pulling away from the clumsy kiss and wrapping your legs around his thighs as best you can. He sits up and you take the opportunity to scoot your ass off the armrest, laying fully on the couch, but this is apparently not what Jason wants.

He’s quick you grab you around the thigh and pull you back, hips tilted upwards, a second hand landing on your shoulder and pushing down. You wiggle away again with a noise of complaint, but he merely repositions you and presses the hand on your shoulder more firmly, signaling for you to stay. It’s uncomfortable to have your back bent at this angle, but he’s insistent, so you stay as you are. He watches for a second, waiting to see if you’ll move again, and you’re half tempted to just to tease him, but that thought is out of your mind entirely when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your pants.

You don’t expect for him to pull, tearing the fabric halfway down to the knee in one tug. The force jerks your whole body up by the hips and you squeal in surprise and outrage at the ruined clothing, but a second pull tears the fabric free of you completely. You’re almost mad for a second, but you see him standing between your legs, chest rising and falling rapidly, and decide that an old pair of pants is an acceptable sacrifice.

Jason lets out a growl, rolling like thunder through his chest, hands gripping your thighs so tight it hurts, and looking at your exposed flesh with a hungry gaze. He removes a hand only to take off the battered mask, tossing it to the side, and you feel gooseflesh cover your arms and legs, eager now for whatever he wants to give you. The fingers around your thighs tighten, holding you in place with a squeeze, and you feel your cunt throb when he goes to his knees between your legs.

The angle of your body on the couch is hiding his face from view, but you arch towards him anyways, both hands gripping the cushions already. He waits a moment, maybe to let you suffer a bit, before his wet tongue is pressing into the skin of your leg, scraping his blunt teeth up your thigh.

You gasp, jerking your hips towards him, trying to get closer, but he only slides one hand from your thigh to hold your hip in place. You let out a needy moan, desperate and loud, and you feel him shudder in response, moving further up your leg to dig his nose into the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Another growl travels straight from his mouth to your flesh, hands and face cold on your skin in contrast to his warm, raspy breaths.

When his face is suddenly pressed fully between your legs, nose and mouth nuzzled against your panties, you feel your limbs go numb and your thighs burn, a heavy heat in your belly firing up.

His tongue reaches out from his mouth, flicking slightly against the fabric, barely enough for you to feel. His touch is gentle but his movements are hurried and eager, saliva coating his chin as he works against your flesh gently with a messy tongue. You gasp and squirm, trying to work free of his hands and clasp your legs around him, but his grip is firm.

You need more, of everything, and you tell him so, begging as loud as you can through huffs and twitches. He must listen, because his touch becomes firmer, tongue and teeth pressing against your underwear, soaking them with spit. Jason rakes his teeth against you, pricking against the flesh your panties don’t cover and you jerk again, a little sob leaving your mouth as you struggle to rock against his face. The hand on your hip moves to press against your stomach, pushing you down and keeping you still.

He’s bolder now, hissing in air between licks, the flat of his tongue dragging against the fabric covering you. He stabs his tongue against the nub of your clit, hard and swollen under the wet fabric, puffs of warm breath misting over your cunt. Fingers dig into your belly, the other hand grabbing a knee and hoisting it over his shoulder, keeping your legs spread. He scrapes his teeth harder and harder against you, more sobs leaving your mouth, breath hitching. Your hands reach out, grabbing the back of his head and attempting to push his face towards you, but he doesn’t move, only acknowledging your struggle with a grunt. You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling uselessly under his hands, desperate to get just a little more pressure, you just need a little bit more of anything.

Without warning his mouth is latched onto you, sucking harshly on the fabric over your clit, tongue flicking back and forth. Your whole body goes stiff, suddenly overwhelmed by the roughness, and his hands hold you down as you jerk and scream. Your hips roll up, muscles tightening, fingers digging into his scalp as your body twitches wildly. He lets you squirm, mouth firmly pressed against you, until your body goes limp, arms flopping over the side of the couch and legs dropping from his shoulders.

When he finally rises, mouth slick and wet, you can only gaze at him with blurry, loving eyes.

#Slashers #Jason Vorhees #Slasher x Reader #Female Reader #guess who doesnt know how to end things #it me #also before i started this blog i had like 12 pages of nothing but jason smut written already #so some of this is from that cause it needs to be used somehow #thank u anon <3 #Anonymous

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elegant-etienne · 5 years

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FFXIVWrite 2019 #7 - Forgiven

I sang alleluia in the choir

I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man

-- Alanis Morisette, “Forgiven”

Warnings for parent death, alcoholism, and the dark themes that come with Ishgard.

"Tell me again of a typical day in your line of work."

Etienne could faintly make out the shape of the man on the other side of the scrim. They had sat with him in confession for the last several days.

After nights of sweat-yellow sheets and whispering to their dead mother, Etienne, at least in this moment, was a repentant follower of Halone. Their mother had been devout, after all. The sermons and confessions were insurance, Etienne always thought, for her whoring ways. Halone was the thing everyone fell back to when there was nothing else: and really, Halone was the word on folk's mind when 'hope' dare not cross it.

Perhaps this thing which Mother had been so convinced would save her soul could save Etienne's as well. And so after her death there came the days of drudgery. Prayer, confessions.

Not their favorite thing in the world, but there was something to be said for keeping a strict schedule. For the filling but bland food their healers provided. For the guidance that they claimed had no strings attached, but of course they were hoping to turn out a citizen fit to give donations later. Or, for Etienne, who had little else after the death of their adoptive mother - a future servant.

They were considering it. They'd always suspected everyone was secretly faking their belief, after all. And faking was something they could do.

"You seem to like hearing my stories. Are you envious of all the fun I've gotten up to?"

"I am not envious of sin, child."

Etienne held the tip of the tongue between their lips and did not believe him. Earlier that day, he'd brushed against their shoulder in the hall. He did not need to.

Still, they told him. Perhaps they made it especially lurid for their own amusement, their own need to detach from the shame of it. Or perhaps they told him because they sensed something from him: a growing discomfort.

Well, a growing something.

"So you can see from all of that I was not ever really a child," Etienne said, "You needn't call me so. From your manner, in fact, I should guess you are younger than I."

A small chuckle. "It was how I was counseled to attend those such as thee."

"Do you think after I've done all these things, that Halone could ever forgive me?"

"She already has, child. You have done everything right. You have come to Her for help, and I have seen, in every sun, the way you improve. Your body is purifying, and your mind can follow. Accept Her and you'll suffer no more grief or guilt. You'll see beyond those things."

Etienne ran their thumbs over the tops of their thighs. The rough wool of the robes itched. It was good to remember how uncomfortable it was. Warm, serviceable, drab and unpleasant. Not suffering grief or guilt sounded attractive, but they could think of only one sort of person who never felt those things.

"If the man who cut my face called to Halone in his last moments, would She forgive him as well? Is her vengeance only for the dragons? Because I see him Her church, you know. With his family."

"If you give me a name, perhaps something could be done? We don't want those sorts within our walls."

"It won't matter." But they told him.

It did not work out. Not unexpected. Halone was not the authority in Ishgard, the Church was, and the royal bloodlines. There was no evidence of heresy in the family despite their violent, disgusting son, and cruelty of other kinds were more or less overlooked. The priest told Etienne so, privately, in a dark alcove.

Vespers would be starting soon. There would be singing, echoing throughout these stone halls, and their voices drowned out.

The priest touched Etienne's hip. He said, "I'm sorry," and he seemed to Etienne to be genuinely troubled. Did he come from a noble family? Was that why he was surprised a criminal could walk free? What a sad, naïve boy.

Etienne thought: There it is, I can have him.

He probably thinks I owe him.

But there would be no consequence for his hypocrisy, where they might get thrown out for their attempts to lead him astray. And oh, weren't there already enough rumors about what they would and would not do for gil, and to whom?

"It doesn't mean that what's happened to you is alright," the priest said. "I'm sorry for that."

"Are you." Something fell into place. Really, men were the same wherever you went.

When the wyverns attacked the Brume was laid to waste. They still see it sometimes before they sleep at night. Those horrible creatures ripping innocent folk to shreds. The acid pools eating through stone. The smell. Sulfur. Fire. Flesh. The screaming. And the Temple Knights retreating to help more important folk.

Where had this priest been that day? Here? Hiding?

What made this prick an authority aside from his schooling? Was he not spiriting Etienne aside to a private, dark corner for an intimate conversation in hopes of something more? Tears and gratitude and grief, perhaps, but also reenactments? After all, what he delivered was not hope, but reinforcement. He could not help Etienne. He did not have an answer.

"I'm glad you're young and handsome," Etienne said, taking a step back. "Someday you'll be an old man, and if you were, I would have slapped you for touching me. And then I would be kicked out."

The priest jerked backward, as if suddenly aware of himself, his body, his own words and presence. Had he not known before? Or was this the ignorance of those who did not need to be aware of it?

Etienne took a breath. "I don't think I can find what I'm looking for here. Not here."

The priest wore that particular shock of a nobleman who'd conveniently forgotten that Brume rats were capable of speech like everyone else.

"You were right, though,” Etienne said. If forgiveness is to be found, it's not Halone's I should worry for. She's not the one I need to forgive me."

The vespers began. The voices of the desperate raised up in optimism and praise. There was a note of desperation in those songs, like a child trying to catch their mother's notice. Etienne stepped out of the alcove, looking to that stone, cold face that never really made them feel anything at all.

There it was: that twist of cold self-loathing in the pit of their stomach. And yet, there was that anger, too.

Why don't I feel anything when I look at you?

Why am I not sadder that my mother is dead?

Why was she so concerned that You should approve of her? What the hell did you ever do but give her something she could never live up to? You didn’t help her. No one did.

Etienne curled cold fingers into fists and turned to walk away.

#ffxivwrite2019 #writing

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neo-nymph · 5 years

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The Truth Untold

..Genre: Romance

Themes: Mythological!AU

Member(s): Jimin

Word Count: 2,196

A/N: Guess whose parents surprised their daughter with a laptop for Christmas and can now do even more writing over winter break ;)

"Hades wasn’t the man the tales had made him out to be. The stories around his name painted a portrait of an unforgiving, sadistic man filled with nothing but hatred for the worlds that existed around him. To mortals, he was the proud image of a perfect nightmare; the epitome of all things any human with common sense would know better than to challenge. To the Gods, he was a forgotten lowlife who deserved no place in their highest palace, and no title but among the souls he guarded in the underworld. The connotations that circled his name had lasted thousands upon thousands of years, and yet it only took me a few encounters to understand the truth untold."

I found him in a vacant tower of the grassy hills I often escaped to, those which still graced their innate purity, isolated from the greedy hands of mortal beings. The serenity could be heard in the passing of winds against leaves in bushes and trees, it could be smelled during sunrise the morning after a gentle rain, and could even be felt when fingertips brushed against the velvet petals of daisies. The vacancy of the building was displayed by its old and dirty nature, vines growing in between the cracks of the aged and broken stone it was made of. Despite its obviously portrayed age, the tower stood grand with pride, trying its best to graze the clouds as it leaned to one side. Few could find beauty here, but the grace of the garden that surrounded it brought life to this old soul.

I'd come here ignoring the warnings and complaints of my mother regarding the dangers of the outside. I loved my mother dearly, but I couldn’t help the pulling desire to escape from her overbearing clutches, always trying to constraint me from basking in the light of the days star. Since I was born, she’s tried her best to keep me hidden from the outside, paranoid at the idea of my being corrupted or taken away from her by tainted souls. Despite her attempts to paint the world as cruel and frightening, I was drawn to the places she tried to kept me away from. I craved the feeling of the cloud like grass on my soles, to feel the burning of the sun light on my skin, smell the scents of the blooming spring and look for shapes within the clouds. So, when the chances presented themselves, I sprinted after them.

And this, the serenity of the garden that ignited the flames within me, was why I could never understand how such a world could be anything but beautiful.

The scent of the bunches filled my nose delightfully. The soil was soft and cold between my toes, and the leaves of the bushes gentle on the pads of my fingers as they dragged along to feel the blue rose petals. I felt as if I were in a trance, oblivious to the chirping of the birds, my picking of the flowers, and, for a moment, the feeling of someone's eyes observing my movements. Curious to find the source of such a feeling, I doubtedly looked towards the towers window, and caught his gaze on me.

If not for my better judgement, or the white of the mask he wore, I would've believed he was a being-less shadow, or perhaps a trick of the eye. His body was just distinguishable to contrast from the dark of the room he watched on from. He stayed motionless as I looked upon him, waiting for a comment or gesture to be made, but he remained as still as a stone. Such an encounter should have felt awkward or unsettling, but my mind, instead, registered him as another mystery of the world I couldn't help but feel a pull to discover. I stood frozen below him as I gazed on curiously before my attention was stolen away from the window as the still air was brutally filled with the dull noise of my mother calling me home. Just as a true mystery, it only took a few moments of ignorance for him to disappear when I turned to search for him again.

Months dragged along since the first day I saw him. I found myself venturing back to the hills as if by instinct, hoping the shadow would present itself again. To my dismay, the figure left behind nothing more than the blue roses I'd come to adore. So, to provide a dull satisfaction to my desires, I picked the flowers to admire at home on the days that I could not escape to venture the hills.

After a year, my hopes had already been tucked away in their graves, finding no purpose in waiting for something which no longer existed. I did, however, travel back to the garden now and again to take in the still serenity of the hills. Often I laid in the grass, tracing imaginary shapes and figures of the fluffy white clouds sitting in the sky, or reading with the rustling of the trees to break the silence. It was just as the day I first saw him, tranquil and isolated. Laying on the ground I bathed in the sun, eyes closed as my skin absorbed the warmth of the day time star, until a figure blocked the the flaming sphere from reaching my eye lids.

He stood dressed in a dark cape that covered his body from shoulders to toes, still dawning a white mask concealing his identity from my sight. At his entrance I rose to my feet, driven by curiosity to understand the mystery that plagued my mind for so long. The garden remained silent, the pair of us standing only a few feet apart as a soft breeze blew between us. I wished to ask for a name, but my body was filled with unwelcome butterflies that I feared would fly out if I parted my lips. A few moments passed before he raised his hand out to me holding a rose I’d never had the blessing of seeing until now. The white petals shined brightly as flakes of gold drifted off of them, a stem of vibrant jade standing firmly in his grasp. The beauty left me captivated, my hand slowly, unconsciously reached forward to take hold, my mind and body left helpless under the flowers spell. I’m not sure how long I stood fixated on the plant in my hands, but when I lifted my head, he was gone, and my mother was calling for me again.

Everyday for a month I went to see him. We walked through the hills together, smelling flowers, listening to birds, watching the sunsets. He was gentle when he held my hand, kind to me as he listened to my stories and my dreams, and patient as he taught me about the animals and nature of the hills I loved so dear. Most days I was with him, I would forget about the existence of the world outside of our own. The marks of mankind, rules of narcissistic gods, paranoia fueled imprisonment were all extinct in the hours I spent with him each day. Only the pure tranquility and beauty of mother natures design existed with him. This world that I resided in with him was the same as the world I spend so many days constructing in my daydreams on these hills, sinfully praying I could one day find in reality. This masked man was the escape I awaited to chase in my bedroom. He was the mystery I longed to discover, and the untainted soul I had begun to believe no longer thrived. He was the dream I’d held onto for so long, and in his hands my heart would soon come to rest in.

One day, as we sat beneath an oak tree, enjoying the sweetness of berries and fruits, I build up the courage to ask the question I feared the answer to. I was careful in my motions as I prepared to force the words past my lips. For months the wonder plagued my thoughts, momentarily ruining our tome together, but only for a second before his presence turned up the corners of the mouth again. I pondered the possibilities, attempting to find my own answers, but finding none logically or worthy to be true.

“...why do you still conceal yourself with a mask?”

Partly to my joy, and partly to my dismay, he seemed unaffected by my question. Rather, he finished consuming the red berry in his hand with his head slightly lowered towards the ground, seemingly avoiding my proposal. I waited beside him for a nod, a gesture, anything, too scared to ask again and cross a line I couldn’t see.

“..does your heart hold a space for me?”

My brows flexed and my head tilted at his inquiry. Carefully I laid my hand on top of his own upon the grass. “Is it not obvious?”

I stared at the side of his face as his eyes looked beyond us. The breeze was gentle as it played with the strands of his hair, tossing small, dark, pieces across the white of his mask. The beating of my heart became ever more noticeable as I waited for a response, the beat hard and steady against my ribs, filling my ears to distract from the feeling of anxiety bubbling at the pit of my emptying stomach. Beyond my command, my fingers gripped his that seemed to grow colder as the seconds passed.

A sigh left his hidden lips before he spoke, “Whatever feelings you believe you have for me may not remain when you come to find my identity.”

If there were any words left to be said, I was unable to find them. I didn’t know what could be said to calm his fear, no matter how irrational I knew it to be. My mind was blank as I scrambled to find something to say, and I knew each second of silence on my end was another second of a festering anxiety on his. So, I decided if words wouldn’t speak, I would let actions do so instead. Lifting myself from the cushioned ground, I placed myself comfortably on his lap, my thighs settled on either of his while my hands held his face to look up at mine. I took the moment to cherish the warm feeling that came with looking into his eyes before my fingers found the edges of his mask, lifting it away slowly.

The plastic covering fell from my grasp as the air was taken kindly from my lungs. I knew the stories of this man. I’d heard them time and time again from the Gods. I heard the about the hell he wished upon the heavens and the earth. I was told of the nightmares he cursed humans to see when their eyes closed, and the torture he provided to the souls he guarded in the hell he created. I knew the stories of Hades, but I couldn’t dream to believe them now.

The setting sun left his skin softly glowing gold, just like the flakes of the flower he presented to me the day we met, standing out perfectly against the midnight shade of his hair. Looking into his eyes now was like drowning blissfully into a pool of honey. I couldn’t help the desire to drag my fingers across his gracious features, or stare longingly at his fluffy, pouting lips. I looked to his eyes again and found a sadness I knew too well. The welling of emotion in his eyes was like that of a child, built on the basis of purity and innocence, fueled by the simple fear of loneliness and the unknown. The pain in his honey eyes was the last strike I needed to spark the flame inside me, to push me to plant my lips on his. His cold hands crept up from my hips, to my waist, crossing along my back as he tightened his grip on my body. The force of his plush lips on mine caused a heat to flush on my cheeks and my chest. The gentle touches he graced me with before were gone now as he pulled my burning body against his own as if he were scared I would float away. I could feel the steam from his body radiate to my own as the friction between us built with rushed movements. My hands pulled at the hair at the base of his neck while his forced my hips down to rub against the lump in his pants. My lips parted from his as a small whine of desire ghosted from my mouth. When I looked to him, the honey colored eyes he once adorned were replaced with dark golden orbs with pupils blown wide. Both our chests heaved as our lungs chased for the breathes we’d stolen from one another. His voice was raspy when he spoke again,

“Come home with me.”

Again, as my mind drew blank, the still air was filled with the sound of my mothers voice calling me home.

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts imagines #bts #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts au #bts au fanfic #greekgod!bts #myth!bts #myth!au

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imagine-allthethings · 5 years

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Hello! Could I please ask for Naruto, OP and OPM match up? I'm straight female, aquarius and typical INFJ. I'm very empathetic, so how I act mostly depends on people I'm with. I like to cheer people up, because I don't like seeing anyone in bad mood, even though I myself usually lack support. But that's because I keep almost everything important for me to myself, until I trust somebody enough. I enjoy deep conversations (even though I don't look like it), playing piano, painting... 1/3 ?!?

…swimming, my humor is pretty weird- mostly memes, things suddenly flying into space while X files theme plays, and so on- I also seem pretty strange, scary, and a bit sadistic??? (SCOOBY DOO DID THAT TO ME, I SWEAR) My favourite animal is Hyena, and I enjoy creepy stories and scaring people XP It’s just so fun! Despite that all I’m patient, lazy, slow and even smart at times! :D When it comes to appearance, I have shoulder length wavy chestnut coloured hair, same coloured eyes with long.. 2/3

..eyelashes. I’m 175cm tall. :P And It pretty sucks. I always say that I don’t need people in my life, sometimes even push potential love interests away, but that’s just to ease the feeling of loneliness and fear of rejection, cuz I don’t think someone could possibly like me the way I would love him. :/ Oh well, sorry that it’s so long! I’m excited about your blog, and expect some asks from me! Have a great day, greetings from Czech republic! 💖

Thank you for you patience @bar10du!!

I’d ship you with Chojuro!

Chojuro is a pretty shy boy and he would definitely have to rely on you, a least a little bit, for some cheering up; he definitely does not have the best self-confidence. However, this is made up by his fierce loyalty and selflessness. He would act like the support you feel you lack, he’s likely devoted to his partner as much as he is the 5th Mizukage. He wants to protect and nurture your smile. He’s just super sweet okay?

He would devote a lot of time to making you fell comfortable with him. He understands the need to push people away somewhat but he’s stubborn enough to stick by you until he gets the opportunity to break through those walls.

He’s 100% a listener and would love to hear you talk for a long time; he’s rather smart so when he feels there is an opportunity he will interject and add to the conversation.

He’s not much of an artist but he does appreciate your paintings. He would, however, love to go swimming. Maybe a nice compromise would be a painting of the ocean or something that reminds him of the sea. That would definitely be the type of special gift he couldn’t bring himself not to show to everyone in his life.

He won’t get your sense of humor right away but he gives it his best shot. Eventually, he comes to love memes. He’s not great at finding ones that aren’t stale but he still tries.

He’s a bit shorter than you, sure, but it doesn’t really bother him too much, he’s well aware that he’s not the tallest man in the world. He’s a fan of the chestnut colored hair and eyes, as it’s something that contrasts his blue hair and the blue of the water he loves.

I’d ship you with Garou!

Even though he would find it hard to make that initial connection with another person, once he does his feelings are very hard to shake off. He’s definitely not a “good guy” in the series but he does have a very strict standard of morals he holds for himself.

This morals keep him out of doing some of the things the Monster Association would consider normal, like murdering heroes, but he would be unlikely to attack you. Hunting down humans, and kids, it’s just not his thing. A soft spot, you might say. He does, however, need an earful every once in awhile to set him straight.

His morals are a thing which might not be particularly flawed in his opinion but they are set in past miseries. Your personality type seems to indicate you might have the stuff to help him onto a different path.

He is also analytical enough to pick up on your moods and demand that you take care of yourself and leave him be for a bit if his issues become too difficult to take care of. He’s kinda a tsun, I think.

He kinda looks like a wolf, and wolves kinda look like Hyenas. Kinda.

Y’all are nearly the same height, but his hair wings make him way taller; given that said hair wings don’t get wet. Other than that, he’s about 3 centimeters taller, I’m pretty sure. Sure, he’s not the tallest but hugs are much easier when you’re the same height.

You bring some much needed color into this pair and he appears to dress very mono chromatically.

Biggest hurdle is the running away from relationships, as you both have some issue with that. Some outside help may be needed. Good thing he has a smol child friend.

I’d ship you with Mihawk!

Mihawk is the quietest of the three, but he’s not quiet in the same way as Chojuro. He’s not too empathetic, he instead comes off as an overly apathetic character. He’s rather serious but the combination of your brand of humor and personality helps him open up a bit more.

His smile and laughter, when he ever decides to show it, is usually directed in your direction. The dark and quirky nature of your humor is something he finds particularly amusing; it’s not something he would immediately expect from someone as cheerful as you seem to be. The memes, he might have expected, but the interest in the macabre is a welcomed surprise. It makes you different, something that catches this quiet mans eye.

Dracule is the type to listen to your thoughts, only adding to them when he felt it necessary. Deep conversations aren’t his forte, but he will get more and more into as he warms up to you more and more.

He works as a ever stable rock that grounds you when your empathy pit falls and he never fails to remind you that are important and should take care of yourself. He may not say much, but he is adamant about that.

Listening to you play the piano is something that he greatly enjoys in his down time, it never fails to relax him after a long and hard day of sailing and fighting. It’s one of those things that causes deep sighs and warm glances.

It usually softens him up to the point where he would be more receptive to physical affection. It’s something he might seek actively while you are playing by leaning over you and rubbing your shoulders.

Hi, so this has been in the inbox forever and I’m kinda starting from the bottom to fill our queue. I’ve not seen One Punch Man or One Piece so I’m a bit shaky on these and I definitely never got that deep into Naruto… I do think these are great choice though.. I hope you enjoy, our Czech Republic friend! ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) - Mod Trash

#Naruto #Naruto Shippuden #Chojuro #Mod Trash #Garou #One Punch Man #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Match up #Match-Up #Matchups

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fergus-cousland · 5 years

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2018 in review

@hollyand-writes has tagged me in a second writing meme to talk about more words that I put in order last year.

A good chunk of my 2018 was spent researching and writing my undergraduate dissertation, plus various other assignments. Then another chunk of that was spent being in the absolute pits and disliking a lot of what I was writing. And then the final chunk was spent in on/off employment, which may have been the cause of me actually getting writing done (starting a new full time job on Monday though so let’s hope this one sticks?)

Total number of completed stories:

37 completed in total, with seven of those being completed in 2018

Total word count:

I wrote 36558 words last year, according to my AO3 stats. Things not published on AO3, such as my academic work, would probably push that word count over 50 000 but I can’t be more specific than that

Fandoms written in:

Dragon Age, mainly Dragon Age II. The Elder Scrolls (specifically, Skyrim.) My annual Raven Cycle fic, shockingly not about Declan Lynch.

Looking back, did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected?:

I wrote the number of fics I expected but the word count of them jumped up a little more this year. I’d say my word count per fic is up 1000 words on 2017

What’s your own favourite story of the year?:

Only In Dark, The Light - written for the Black Emporium exchange. It was my first Sebanders fic and my first foray into Sebastian’s PoV. It feels a little rushed in parts but I’m still just proud of how it turned out.

Did you take any writing risks this year?:

Not really? The closest was writing from the PoV of Jergen, a character who never even appears in-game and the only indication of what he might have been like comes from the two ferals he raised.

Do you have any fanfic or profit goals for the new year?:

Write an actual longfic with an actual structured story and chapters without resorting to my vignette style that’s formed the backbone of everything I’ve produced since 2015. We’re playing it safe by doing that with a Ladyhawke inspired AU but it will happen.

Relating to the above, aiming not to be afraid of having a WiP. this is the year of Me Time; I don’t need to have it all written ahead of time in order to have a schedule like clockwork.

Best story of the year?:

again, I’m gonna have to pick Only In Dark, The Light. despite any bamboozlement I might have talked about while writing it, it was genuinely the only fic where I knew what I was doing from beginning to end. It was coherent. It had a theme. I got to pick on Anders. It was fine.

Most popular story of the year?:

by my AO3 stats, it was Home With You, my three part fic detailing how my Hawke’s life ends up scrambled

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

just out of the ones posted in 2018? my Raven Cycle fic. sometimes i wonder if the title puts people off

Most fun story to write:

Let Me Come Back To Your Hand. not because it has particularly invigorating subject matter but because this fic here? this was the start of Me Time, ushering in a golden age of self indulgence.

Story with the single sexiest moment:

bold of you to assume i have written anything sexy in my life

Most sweet story:

from which stars have we fallen. it’s 3000 words of pure paternal affection and that’s something bethesda can never take away

“Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you!” story:

Nothing that’s been posted. There’s one thing in my documents’ folder that involves some Unpleasant stuff; nothing graphic but still there. I have nowhere to put it so it just exists. I’m not prepared for the world to see that side of me and there’s no kink meme prompts that it fits

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

Nothing from 2018. The only thing that might fit would be my Sebris fic from 2017, if only because it gave me a chance to write a softer Fenris

Most unintentionally telling story:

I genuinely don’t know; Home With You, maybe, if only because I feel that Garrett’s gloomy mood reflects my own deep blue moments but that might just be because I know that’s the real world backdrop that fic was written against

Hardest story to write:

Walk With Me, My Heart because I basically had to balance the three faces of Eve Anders but still have it be definitely Anders. which is hard because the Anders most people recognise is DA2 Anders and anything deviating from that runs the risk of being called out of character

Biggest disappointment:

so many. My continued neglect of my Inquisitor is the big sticking point; the story’s there, I just can’t make it fit. Also, Mabon is even more gloomy than Garrett and is really hard to make interesting, especially for the early parts of Inquisition.

aside from that, my failed longfics. I had a couple planned for last year but they all fell through, usually because I started hating them. A couple of them are getting a second chance this year so fingers crossed.

Biggest surprise:

That my Sebanders fic was as well received as it was. Sebastian slash isn’t the most popular genre to start with and pairing him with Anders is even less so. So thank you to the people who pointed at that fic and said “Nice!” It’s a pairing that needs more love ;)

#writing meme #sorry i don't think i have anyone to tag :S #i'll be real tho i miss anonymous kink memes #i miss throwing my gross fic into the (literal) hungry abyss

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years

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Thanks to the lovely @abovethesmokestacks for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Pia, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

I started back in 2008 when I was 21 years old.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I do enjoy both, but lately it's been more reader inserts. It's challenge to write a good reader insert, to make them a natural part of the setting, to make them relatable to your audience and find a way to make them click with the other characters. Because they are meant to be a character you should be able to see yourself in, it tests your ability to make the character both approachable to a wide range of readers, yet specific enough to mesh with the story.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

Well, I have been called the angst queen on numerous occasions. Apparently I am a sucker for making myself and others hurt.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Oh Jesus, probably one of the Twilight fics I wrote during the dark days of my ff.net run. I got swept up in the hype and with a few exceptions, I have no qualms about tossing those fics into a volcano.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

When I have both inspiration, motivation and time. Sadly, sometimes that happens at night and let's just say I have sometimes sacrificed sleep in favour of a story. Generally, though, I don't have a preferred time of day.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

From anything and everything. Something I've seen or heard or experienced, videos I've seen, songs I've listened to.

7) In your Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavors fic, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

The final scenes of Assorted Flavours is close to my heart. Same with the scene in the Easy As Pie-chapter where they discuss Bucky's metal arm.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I haven't made major amendments. Someone may have pointed out typos or missing words which I have edited, but nothing storyline-wise.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

I am a sucker for a lot of Seb's characters, especially Bucky and Hal. And Chris Beck. They are fun to write and there is so much that can be done and explored with them.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

I wanna preface this by saying it's not so much I dislike them as I find them hard to write well. Tony and Thor hard for me to write because I can't seem to connect as easily with them as I can with other characters, and I'd hate to do these guys wrong.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavors?

This is the eternal struggle with me, to come up with a good title. I knew I wanted something that alluded to reader being a baker and one my Spotify playlist shuffled to Emily Browning's rendition of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This). For the sequel series, I wanted to continue on the same theme, and my friend Loup helped me land on Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours.

12) How did you come up with the idea for Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours?

I am not entirely sure anymore, but it may have included a conversation about Bucky Barnes (or Seb, or both) and cupcakes, and evolved into an idea about Bucky finding a nightopen bakery during one of his nightly walks through Brooklyn (because obviously).

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I have two. One is a Twilight fic that I abandoned and deleted when I left behind my ff.net account for good. It was never going to get finished and I didn't want any WIPs on the account. I didn't delete the account, it's basically there as an archive, but yeah. Deleted that story because I was never going to finish it. The second fic is a Gilmore Girls collab fic I started YEARS ago with a friend from Australia. It was put on hiatus when my friend started writing original fiction. That one I would love to finish, but I don't know how likely that is.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

None that I am really aching to do a sequel for. That being said, with the right inspiration, I could possibly nake a third fic in the little verse I created with Hal in Cling To Me and Cling To You.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Surprisingly, no. I've been happy with the endings to all of my fics.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Are we talking other fanfic writers or other fiction writers? For fanfic writers, just go into my fic rec tag. All of them are immensely talented in their own way. I will give special props to the writers of Not Easily Conquered because what they did with that series has fucked me up for life and I have the tattoo to prove it. For fiction writers, I do love Rowling for what she created with Harry Potter. I remember reading the books as they were published and just... I was mezmerized! I also love everything Neil Gaiman writes, it's dark and quirky and has that little something that takes hold of you. I can reread Pullman's His Dark Materials over and over just for the amazing world and mythology he created for that series.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

I usually don't reread stories I haven't clicked with, so not really.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Both. I have a Bucky playlist on Spotify that I usually crank whenever I am writing a fic that features him. But I can just as well write in silence.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Yes. I cried while writing With Him I Will Stay and Goodbye for example.

20) Which part of your Sweet Dreams fic was the hardest to write?

There wasn't one part that was specifically harder to write than others. I do sometimes get stuck on transitions, how to move from one scene to the next as smoothly as possible. If anything, writing Sweet Dreams has taught me that sometimes it's totally okay to just shift scenes and not make a big deal out of it. Not everything has to be complex.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Often I have a rough idea of how I want things to play out, focus points that I want to include that function as pit stops for me as I write. The only time I haven't made a clear outline was for Kintsugi. I let the prompt guide me and hopes like hell it made sense.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

That it's a process and you learn. I was so worried about writing perfectly. When I started out in the Gilmore Girls fandom and posting at ff.net, it was really common to have a beta reader. I was new, I had no one to beta read and I kept obsessing over getting things right until I realized that I didn't HAVE to have a beta reader and that yeah, I made mistakes but I could learn from them and from reading other what other people wrote.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Maybe Snapshots. Or my T.J fic. I love them both dearly.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Not to the point where it's an eye roll because I do like the attention my fics get. I was very surprised though by the amount of notes that flooded in for a drabble called Fight Night.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

I haven't really made use of a lot of OC's. Aiden from Make Me Feel Like I'm Real is the only one that qualifies and with him it's all in how he looks. When I came up with him, I had a very vivid image of a man that looked like a mix of Donald Glover and Daveed Diggs. His personality came quite naturally as he started interacting more with T.J.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

There are so many that have made me blush so hard. One that I remember very vividly was when @lostinthoughtsandfeelings-blog commented on Soft Devotion that it made them feel the same kind of empowerment that the Wonder Woman soundtrack evoked!

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I have been very lucky so far in the criticism that I've gotten. Mostly it's just been typos or something similar that's been pointed out. When I started out on ff.net there were a few who commented that they didn't understand where I was going with a certain story. I think for one fic I got a comment about having dragged it out for too long, but that's about it.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I do share some of them, simply because I get excited about them or because it's an idea that comes from a conversation that ends with "I need to fic this!!"

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

My husband knows, but he doesn't really know what it is (despite my attempts to explain). A few of my old school mates know I write, but otherwise no. I don't really talk about writing fan-fiction with people outside the fandoms I write for.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

I love Steve's parts in Sweet Dreams, and anything that involves Sam.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

If I'm writing a series, the feedback from previous chapters do so much to encourage me. Feedback in general motivates me. I often ask friends to give me feedback on certain scenes or passages while I write and seeing their excitement does a lot to help me push through and finish.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

AUs and A/B/O for sure.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I can't remember exactly which one, but it was a Gilmore Girls fic.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I'd love to say fluff, but angst just hurts so good, and getting screamed at in caps-lock is kinda fun.

#milestone celebration #ask the author #abovethesmokestacks

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cassiopeiassky · 7 years

Text

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 45

Random tidbit - this part contains some of the very first concepts that were written for this story. Strap yourselves in, it’s an emotional roller coaster. You’re welcome.

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 3215

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions of violence, death and physical assault, disturbing descriptions, panic attack, anxiety If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie. I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests. Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, but I had to do it. I had to, I had to be the Winter Soldier,” he mumbles into your hair repeatedly as his left arm wraps around your back to hold you close while his right hand cradles the back of your head.

“You came back to me,” you whisper against his neck, and you feel him stiffen before he gently pushes you back so he can meet your eyes. He stays quiet as he caresses your cheek and smooths back your hair, the small, broken smile on his face at odds with the heavy sorrow and remorse in his eyes.

When he finally breaks the silence, his voice cracks as he utters your name. It takes another long moment before he speaks again. “I never left.”

It takes you a minute to comprehend what he said. “..Wh….what?”

“I never left.” He runs his hands through his hair and takes a shallow breath before continuing. “The trigger words don’t work anymore.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Wanda was thorough. She found the backup triggers and disabled those, too. I guess I didn’t think to tell you about them because they were never used on me. Didn’t seem important.”

It feels like the bed has fallen from underneath you, almost like reality has shifted. “Wait…but…but I saw…but…you hit me.”

Bucky moves as though he’s going to reach out to touch you, but stops himself. “I know, Sweetheart, I know. I was faking it. The whole time, I was faking it. When I did that…I did it. I am so sorry. I just…I couldn’t find another way. We couldn’t find a way around that goddamn collar. It was the only thing I could come up with to get me close enough to you to protect you, and to eventually get you out.” The sincerity in his eyes twists at your heart; he looks so broken.

You don’t know what you’re feeling right now. It’s too much, it’s just too goddamn much. Have you finally lost it? Is this even real? You want it to be real, right? But how. How? How could someone go to such lengths and pay such a price?

A price.

Oh God.

“You killed Steve.” You say it quietly, and suddenly you can’t breathe. “Oh, God, you killed Steve!” The enormity of what’s been done overwhelms you and throws you into a full-blown panic attack. How could he? How?!

“Oh shit, no,” Bucky surges forward, softly cupping your face with his hands; the cool metal on your right cheek is soothing on your bruised skin but the temperature contrast shocks you enough to focus on his words. “I need you to breathe, Sweetheart. Breathe for me,” he croons before taking you through a grounding exercise; the same one that you’d used to help him. “Give me five things you can see, Sweetheart, five things.”

You hold onto his voice – and his forearms – like a lifeline.

“Um, you. I see you.” Focus on him right now and nothing else. Breathe.

“Good, what else?” His voice is so soothing; soft and sure like it used to be when you were at the safehouse with him. You pay close attention to the timbre of his voice, to the traces of the Brooklyn accent that shapes his words, and to the clarity and warmth in his eyes. This is your Bucky, the man sitting in front of you. He’s here, finally. The pressure eases somewhat.

You’re able to take deep, even breaths when the exercise is completed; you wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re good, but you’re definitely better.

“Okay?” he asks softly; it’s an inadequate word for the situation, but you know what he means.

“Okay,” you confirm with a small nod.

“Good. I gotta tell you something, but it’s gonna sound crazy so I need you to hear me out, okay?” At your slow, careful nod, Bucky licks his lips and brushes his thumbs lightly over your cheeks before speaking again. “Steve’s alive. He’s fine, he –“

Umm. No. Your brain isn’t having this. “What? No. Bucky, he’s not fine.” You sit up straighter and pull out of Bucky’s gentle hold. “They served his head, literally, on a fucking silver platter! He’s the opposite of fine!” You can feel your chest constricting again as your body fights another wave of hysteria.

“No, Sweetheart, no!” His hands grip your upper arms, holding you still and grounding you into the moment so he can capture your attention. “What you saw was basically a movie prop made with animal…parts. Remnants from a slaughterhouse, I think.” He continues quickly when your eyes grow wide, “It wasn’t really Steve. He’s alive, pissed off but alive, in a cottage in the middle of the woods about 20 miles south of here with the rest of the team.” Bucky pauses to watch your reaction carefully, and when you remain still he continues, “Before we left, Stark called in a few favors to some of the people he always mentions he knows, said he wanted to be prepared for anything. I guess he’s good friends with the prop designer for some apocalyptic zombie horror show, so he called his buddy and asked him to design and create decomposable replicas of the entire team. That’s why I was gone so long; we had to wait for it to get shipped here, and then to, uh, thaw. It was…it’s a disgusting process.” He pulls a face and you feel the tiniest of smiles form in response. “It even fooled me when Stark opened the box - creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so sorry to scare you like that, but it wasn’t really Steve, I promise.”

You sit back on your heels, dumbfounded and relieved. And thoroughly grossed out.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again as he reluctantly removes his hands from your arms. You can only stare at him. “Sweetheart, I swear, the only people I’ve killed since coming to Siberia are Krakken’s men. That…that feels really fucking bizarre to say, but it’s true. Those are the only deaths that weren’t staged.”

It’s almost dizzying how fast your brain is trying to work in order to process all of the information. It’s fucking surreal, and you have so many questions, and even though he’s sitting in front of you it still feels like it’s a dream and he’s going to disappear if you blink.

“So...your missions? Those families?”

“They’re fine. Most of them are on vacation, actually. The few that stayed in the country went to their vacation homes.”

What you’d been told and what you’re hearing now are violently colliding in your mind; one brought untold grief, but the other promises healing. The echoing contradictions make it hard to keep up with what he’s saying, and you’re so scared that he isn’t really here, that you finally just fell off the cliff into a raging sea of insanity and are imagining him, whole, in front of you. Despite this, you hear the spark of hope in your voice. “How in…What?”

He nods. “We got here the day after you did. Stark’s been negotiating almost non-stop with the other nearby Pakhan since we arrived. Turns out the Krakkens aren’t all that popular around here; apparently they don’t follow the rules and play nice, and they haven’t been upholding the code of honor that ties the Pahkan brotherhood together. There’s so much betrayal and bad blood between most families and the Krakkens that when Stark offered to take care of the problem, and then added stock options and patents to the deal, they were all fairly eager to accept.”

The wave of relief that washes over you actually manages to clear your mind somewhat. “Really? No kids died?”

He shakes his head. “No, Sweetheart, no kids died. Those deaths were all staged. And if I’m not mistaken, Stark sent all of the families with young kids to Disney theme parks.”

The intricacy of their plan is astounding, to say the least. “Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath, as you finally, finally allow yourself to truly feel hopeful about getting the hell out of this pit. “So you’ve all been here almost the entire time? They were the ones taking out Krakken’s men?”

“Yes, we’ve been here almost as long as you have; Sweetheart, we’ve been working on getting you back since the second Anatoliy drove away with you. And no, they weren’t taking out Krakken’s men – I didn’t want to risk them getting too close and getting caught, and losing the element of surprise. That was me.”

That’s…woah. “That was you? How? You were with me at least one of those nights, right? Or was it two?” You struggle to remember; anxiety certainly doesn’t do your memory any favors.

Bucky gazes at you with soft eyes. “Sweetheart, it would take me until the end of forever to forget all the little details of you that I memorized, and although it feels that long, it’s only been a few weeks. I know all your little tells - I know when I can kiss your shoulder and you’ll wake, and when I can shift your entire body to bring you closer to me without you so much as twitching a muscle - so I just waited until you were in a deep sleep. You were so exhausted that I knew I wouldn’t wake you.”

“But…how?”

Bucky shrugs. “They wanted the Winter Soldier. They got him. What can I say, for better or worse I’m a damn good assassin. And since Stark compromised their security system the day after we got here, it was easy to pick them off while they slept.” Bucky’s expression darkens. “Metzger’s reaping what his uncle sowed. I’m not at all sorry about those men, and there’s gonna be more before this is over.”

“Wait.” You hold up a hand as another emotion starts bubbling up; anger. “You’ve had control of the cameras? You said when you came in that it was safe to talk, right? That’s because their system is hacked?”

He nods, seeming to brace himself for what’s coming.

Good.

“So we could’ve had this talk days ago.” At his slight nod, you continue, “What the fuck, Bucky?! You could have told me what was going on! I didn’t have to believe that you killed kids, or that you fucking killed Steve! Do you know what that did to me?? I was so fucking worried about you, and what would happen to your mind when you realized what you’d done!!” Your voice grows thick as tears threaten to fall. “God, I thought I fucking lost you!”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell you; it was too big a risk.” You open your mouth to disagree when he speaks again, “They have three separate psychologists monitoring you. Three. It’s part of his sick game; they watch you and basically tell him how far he can go – how much you can handle – before you break. It’s how he knew to have tranquilizers ready for tonight; that wasn’t a coincidence, or even for worst case scenario. He knew how you’d react – his doctors told him. If I’d told you everything earlier, they would have known your distress wasn’t genuine. They would have known if you faked the reaction to the head. They would have known, and it would have put your safety at risk. I wanted to tell you - and I almost did, more than once - but Sweetheart, even when you’re guarded and not open about sharing how you feel, you’re still terrible at hiding your emotions. It’s not a bad thing – it’s actually just one of the countless reasons why I fell for you so fast – but in this situation it could have gotten you killed. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Well…goddamn it, he has a point there. Shit.

He could read you like an open book, whether or not you thought your cover was closed. From the very beginning, Bucky saw through your “I’m fine” and moments of uneasy quiet every goddamn time, even if he didn’t call you out on it. Hell, trying to hide your emotions was something you’d done for years with Christopher, but even after all that practice, even Christopher knew when something was up; he just didn’t give a shit unless your mood bothered him. You feel your anger begin to deflate. Bucky’s right – you would have blown it.

He looks over to you before looking down at his hands. “God, I promise, I didn’t want to hurt you, or terrify you, or leave you alone. Can I explain my reasoning? Or do you just want to hear the plan to get you out?”

You look down and stare at the bedspread bunched between you and him while you attempt to gather your thoughts. You know without a doubt that he loves you more than he loves himself, and you know he would never want to hurt you, mentally, physically, or emotionally. He had to have had a damn good reason to do what he did - it wasn’t exactly like any of this could have been easy for him - and suddenly some of the pieces start to fall together.

You’d had no broken bones, just some bruising and a few cuts from when he was ordered to attack you. Sure, you were sore, but not ‘holy shit I was attacked by the Winter Soldier’ kind of sore, but more of an ‘I’ve been training with Bucky’ kind of sore. Well, maybe a little worse than that, but definitely not as bad as having your ass handed to you a trained, cybernetically enhanced assassin. You weren’t taking the hits extraordinarily well – he’d been pulling his punches. So much so, now that you think about it, you wonder how no one noticed. Thinking back on it, you realize that every time he ‘attacked’ you, he kept himself between you and the others, effectively blocking their view so they couldn’t see everything. You also wonder how it hadn’t been blatantly obvious to you, especially with the split second he’d hold his hand before striking you – that was deliberate, to let you know how to absorb the hit. And then he made you pass out, to end it all as quickly as possible while doing minimal damage.

He hit you, yes, because if he didn’t, someone else would have. And it would have been far, far worse. It would have been Grigory. Or Anatoliy. Or both. Maybe even all of the Hounds, if Bucky had refused.

And he willingly kept you in the dark; he let you think he’d killed Steve, for fuck’s sake. But he’s right – you wouldn’t have been able to fake it – you probably would’ve accidentally compromised the team and gotten everyone killed.

Fuck. It’s too much to take in, but you can’t fall apart; you don’t have that luxury. You need to take what you know – that Bucky and the others have been working non-stop to get you back and that they’re doing what they need to do in order to accomplish this – and you need to fix your mind on that. If you get back to Artie and Jimmy, and back to Bucky, the end justifies the means. It’s easier to understand if you look at it from that point of view.

Fuck, you’re going to need a shit-ton of therapy after this. Still, for the moment, you know what’s real.

Looking back up at Bucky, you take a moment to drink him in; he must have taken your lack of a reply to his questions as a silent demand to be left alone. Studying the dejected curve of his shoulders and downturned head, you say the only thing you can think to say; the only thing that really matters at this point. “Bucky, I trust you.” It’s the truth. You don’t have to like his methods, but at the end of the day, you trust him; there really weren’t any other options.

He looks to you, surprised.

“I mean, I’m not thrilled about it…we’ll, uh, we’ll have to talk about some more it later, I think, but the alternative was much worse.”

Bucky stares at you with the teeniest, tiniest bit of hope in his eyes, but says nothing.

“You didn’t have a choice. Well, technically you did, but I know what that choice was – Bucky, those men weren’t going to pull their punches if they beat me, and they sure as hell weren’t going to be gentle if they raped me. I don’t have to like it, but you being the Winter Soldier me kept me much safer in the long run.”

He flinches at your words, but nods. “I’m so incredibly sorry. Please know that it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He looks miserable yet resolute when he speaks again, “I’d do it all over again, though, to keep Krakken’s men off you. Even if I end up losing you – at least you’ll be alive. That’ll be enough for me.”

More pieces click together. “This is why you kept asking me to forgive you when Nicolai was saying the trigger words…isn’t it…”

Bucky nods. “I don’t expect you to-“

“Buck, don’t,” you’re quick to interrupt him with a gentle hand on his forearm. “Just don’t. Don’t push me away to punish yourself, and don’t act like this is the end. Neither of us deserves that. Look, we’re going to have to deal with the fallout when we get home, but we’re going home. Together. Home. You and I. Okay? I love you, and I’m not giving you up just because some motherfucking cockjockey and his evil twatsickle of a brother decided to involve us in their fucked-up plan to take over the world. You’re doing the best you can with what you have – this isn’t your fault, okay?”

“…But…”

“But nothing, goddamn it. But nothing! They gave you impossible choices, Buck. I don’t blame you for choosing the way you did. Hey,” you pause and gently cradle your hands to his face to lift his head when he ducks to avoid your eyes. “If you need to hear the words, I’ll say them. I’m thankful you made the choice you did. I’m thankful, because it means that I get to go home to you and our boys. I forgive you, Bucky. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, but just know that I’m also going to tell you that there’s nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you. This is on the Krakkens, not you. You’ve fought them too hard for too long – don’t give them the consolation prize of tearing us apart.”

He quickly pulls you into a bone cracking embrace, holding you close and tight until you’re convinced that he actually listened to you.

“You’re comin’ home? With me?” he asks in a rough whisper with his face buried in your neck.

“You’re goddamn right I am.” Like you’d ever answer any differently.

He pulls away to stare at you a moment before kissing you fiercely. In the instant that his lips capture yours, everything wrong in the world ceases to exist and it’s just you and Bucky. It’s in this moment, this very second, that you finally accept that you’re not imagining this; he’s real and he’s here. And he’s taking you home.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he reluctantly breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know this isn’t the time or place, I just needed to feel you, to convince myself that I’m really here with you.”

You huff a quiet laugh in response as your fingers caress his scruff. “Don’t be, I was just thinking the exact same thing."

You each hold the other, taking the opportunity to breathe each other in. Like all good things, it can’t last nearly long enough.

Bucky pulls away, but remains close enough to maintain bodily contact. “I need to check in with Stark, Sweetheart. We’re getting you out of here tonight.”

Tags Round 1: @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel @beccaanne814-blog @musichowler @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @iamtal @passiononfire @jade-cheshire @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @lostinspace33 @gingerrootknits @callmebucky-doll @learisa @sammedrano @hardcorehippos @vaisabu @widowvinter @amrita31199 @bellenuit45 @agentraven007 @sarahjeaniejean @canumoveyourseatup-no @unpredictable-firecracker @ omalleysgirl22 @crazyliraz @shamvictoria11 @kaaatniss @lillian-paige @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @sexyseabass1231 @knittingknerdy @4theluvofall @howdoesoneadult @ms-potts-to-you

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #my work #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#WEMtbB #part 45

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the-sapphire-general · 7 years

Text

My Thoughts on Crash N. Sane Trilogy

Just like with Final Fantasy 15, I am going to discuss how I feel about Crash N. Sane Trilogy and other games I will play in the future. Well then, I have completed the game a long time ago, so this is way overdue! The game was a wonderful experience! The nostalgia was powerful, I couldn't stop admiring the game. I can't wait to play this game with my nephew when he's older (if he will like Crash). :D

First off, the game is awesome! Not only did it stay faithful to the original trilogy many of us grew up playing back in the PS1 era, but it also received additional features and changes. There's more life into it, particularly with the cartoon-like aspects of the game. It all plays the same as the originals, but I'm aware that it's harder than the original trilogy. "Wait a minute, hard? The games aren't hard," some people say. Believe me, just because N. Sane Trilogy gave the original Crash trilogy a PS4 HD makeover (which I hope can be used for a Spyro trilogy and Crash Team Racing remake) doesn't mean it plays the same as it did back then. I didn't notice it at first, but when I died on the first level (yes the first level!), something was up. I thought I was just rusty, but I told myself "How the heck am I rusty enough to lose on the very first level???". Then I noticed my jumps were a little off. I just made the assumption that I'm rusty despite my growing suspicions, and much to my relief, they were later confirmed online. Apparently, you have to be precise with your jumps, and if you mess up in a hazardous section, you're done. You'll lose a life, no questions asked. lol You can easily slip off of things such as the ledges and crates and you cannot let go of the X button or you may possibly fall to your demise. So new physics were applied, and it was difficult to get used to that. There were countless times I believed I would make certain jumps with flawless skill only to be taken by surprise of Crash (or Coco) slipping off where I thought they landed safe and sound. However, I think I mastered the new physics and did a better job than the first Crash game by the time I started Warped. I did a decent job in Cortex Strikes Back, but I did screw up once in a while just because of the jumping.

I mentioned Coco moments ago. You guessed it! Coco Bandicoot is playable in all three games, and that doubles the fun! I always wanted to play as Coco more often, and I was always disappointed as a kid that I couldn't play as her in Crash 2 and 3 (outside of her own levels in Warped obviously). But now we can play as her in every level!...Minus the bosses. And specific levels from each game that are exclusive to Crash. Oh well! At least she's playable in most of the levels. Next are the time trials for Crash 1 and 2, which I will play at my own time. I'll record them and think about whether or not I should strive for platinum relics. I tried that for Crash 3 only to give up after a while. Getting platinum relics isn't an easy task. XD They're hard, and I mean real hard. I stopped partly due to how insanely difficult they are, and also because I didn't want to slow down the playthrough more than I already did by getting the first platinum relics. But the good news is gold relics count for 105% completion on all three Crash games so no need to go berserk, everybody!

Also, there's Stormy Ascent! A new level cut from the original Crash Bandicoot, Stormy Ascent is a difficult version of its sister level, Slippery Climb. I understand that it really is pretty hard. I died 46 times (47 if you count the stupid blunder I made in the bonus round), my mistakes ranging from simple miscalculations to ridiculous decisions. Yet surprisingly I wasn't frustrated along the way. The time trial, however, may be a different story. Will I do the time trial? Will I shoot for the platinum relic? I honestly don't know, but when (or if) I do, I'll record it. I won't be doing it anytime soon, though! Lol

As mentioned from my posts prior to the game's release, now everybody knows the whole truth regarding the difficulty. I hope those who have been criticizing people for dying easily or being super cautious or whatever during levels regret judging their gaming skills. Crash N. Same Trilogy is literally harder than the original trilogy. They're not terrible gamers, they're gamers who have struggled with how the game works! Newcomers and experts both have to deal with the new physics of the game. Think about it. It's like playing these games for the first time all over again.

Hmmmmmm what else? Oh yeah! Crash N. Sane Trilogy has made some changes to the game besides the gameplay and the inclusion of Coco, Stormy Ascent, and the time trials. I won't mention every single one, but I'll point out one example. One of the few changes that sort of disappointed me was N. Gin having most of his lines removed in Crash 2 and 3.

Cortex Strikes Back (Original), N. Gin's defeat:

"Dr. Cortex will be very displeased with your resistance! Prepare to suffer his wrath!”

Warped, N. Gin's lines during his boss battle:

Beginning - "Prepare to be pulverized, bandicoot!”

End - "Arrrgh! Not again!!"

It didn't bother me much, but I still wonder why they weren't included. Even Dingodile doesn't say his line when he's defeated. And the crowd during Tiny's battle in Warped doesn't boo at Crash. But I won't hate those bits, it's not like everything in the games were changed.

The music is a masterpiece in my book! After I finished playing Crash, I downloaded the soundtracks because it's just that great. They made the songs more memorable than they were before, and I like that. Well, that is the end of my review! I highly recommend this game to anyone who loves Crash and has grown up playing the series or to newcomers that are curious about this legendary bandicoot. It's worth buying because it's just that awesome. :D On a random note, I still hate how the orange gem only appeared once and never showed up again. Poor orange gem. That's why it's one of my favorite gems to collect (aside from the blue gem, my ultimate favorite of all).

For a bonus, in case you want to know, my favorite songs of Crash N. Sane Trilogy are below:

Crash Bandicoot

Toxic Waste

Generator Room

Slippery Climb/Stormy Ascent

Dr. Neo Cortex's theme

Pinstripe's theme

N. Brio's theme and bonus

Lights Out/Fumbling in the Dark

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back

Turtle Woods/The Pits/Night Flight

The Eel Deal's Green Gem Route

Crash Dash/Crash Crush/Un-Bearable

Cortex's boss theme

N. Gin's boss theme

Tiny Tiger's boss theme

Crash Bandicoot: Warped

The Time Twister

Makin' Waves/Tell No Tales/Ski Crazed/Hot Coco

Tomb Time/Sphyxinator/Bug Lite (including their death route theme)

Hog Ride/Road Crash/Orange Asphalt/Area 51?

Future Frenzy/Gone Tomorrow

Rings of Power

N. Gin's theme

Dingodile's theme

Cortex's theme

Wow I like a lot of them. lol Now for my favorite levels:

Crash Bandicoot

Stormy Ascent

Generator Room

Toxic Waste

N. Brio

Dr. Cortex

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back

Cold Hard Crash

Bear It/Bear DownUn-Bearable

The Eel Deal

Rock It

N. Gin

Dr. Cortex

Crash Bandicoot: Warped

Hog Ride/Road Crash/Orange Asphalt/Area 51?

Tomb Time/Sphyxinator/Bug Lite

Dingodile

N. Gin

Dr. Cortex

Now this is the end of my review! lol I hope you guys enjoyed Crash like I do. It has been my childhood, and it feels great to have him back. And let's hope that Crash gets a bright future that he deserves! Also, let's try to get Activision thinking about remaking Crash Team Racing and the Spyro trilogy while we're at it.

#crash n sane trilogy #review #long overdue since I finished my playthrough since August lol

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years

Text

Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 1

[Archive] [Cast]

The Gaster Brothers BOINK! in particular is going to contain some disturbing themes. We will try our very best to tag everything appropriate, but if you see that we’ve missed something please let us know. Subjects that will crop up and be tagged include: child abuse, child slavery, torture, dismemberment, murder, and more.

For all of it’s happy moments, this is not a happy story and does not have a happy ending. Please take that into consideration if you are interested in reading this story.

They were stopped for the night in the woods, and that meant a fire, and that meant gathering wood.

Once the pit was dug and the area cleared, that’s just what the skeleton boy did, moving through the woods around the campsite to pick up twigs and smaller branches.

He’d chop them into smaller pieces back at camp. But for now, he enjoyed being a bit more on his own. Not that he was always around someone else, but the merchant was always at least sort of present around him.

Right now, though, Hugh was back at the campsite, tallying up their goods and checking the distance to the next village, and the skeleton had a few long minutes outside to be alone.

He was lost.

How on earth had he managed to get lost in his own stretch of woods? One moment everything seemed normal and he was headed back home for supper and then he turned around and it was all… different. The trees weren’t the same. The air didn’t feel quite right, and he had gotten scared.

He had started to run, hoping he would find something that looked familiar, but the further he went the more panicked he became and soon he was walking through the dark hugging himself and trying to get a good look at the stars.

They would point him home.

The little skeleton stood in a clearing looking up, trying to figure out his sense of direction. He was small, no more than eight years old, and wore a dirty tunic and shawl, but looked well-cared for. The mud had only been tracked onto his clothing that day after playing with his friends.

But now his friends were gone, away and comfortable in their houses and here he was, alone in the dark without a clue as to where he was.

He lit the fire. He put potatoes by it, hoping they would bake quickly near the coals. He warmed water.

He thought he heard someone walking around, and looked up. Hugh was still by the covered wagon, scribbling by the light of one candle in a desperate bid to finish before his eyes gave out. The mules were off to the wrong side of the campsite to be the sound.

He stood slowly and walked in the direction of the sound he’d heard, hoping to not attract attention, but he was sure he’d heard something thundering through the underbrush.

He thought he might have seen a figure in a nearby clearing, but it was so cloudy tonight--it blocked so much of the light.

He shuffled closer, glancing back to make sure the merchant hadn’t noticed, and then slipped into the woods. His tunic was a little short and his pants caught on the briars, but he was used to walking in bare feet and didn’t make much sound.

Whatever he’d seen, it was definitely smaller than he was.

It was too cloudy to see the stars.

The little skeleton stood in the clearly for awhile, hoping that maybe there would be a break in the clouds, just enough to make out a constellation or certain star. When it never came he trudged back into the woods.

He spotted a dot of light in the distance and started running towards it.

It didn’t take long for him to nearly barrel into a dark figure stalking through the woods. A tiny, hoarse, mouse-like scream left his mouth, barely audible even to the figure right beside him.

He stumbled back and fell onto his rear.

He was confused for a long moment, flinching away from the sudden shape running at him, and then… realizing it had fallen.

He bent down, trying to see better, and realized it was a skeleton. Smaller than him, perhaps up to his ribcage. He didn’t know how ages worked very well just yet--he was still learning as he went-- but he was certain this skeleton must have been very young.

“Sorry,” he said to the smaller one, “Are you okay?”

Big black eye sockets looked up at him, the tiny white dots focusing on the figure’s face.

Another skeleton!

He grinned and shot to his feet, nodding quickly. He didn’t recognize him but… that was okay! It was someone and maybe they were traveling to his village? Maybe they could show him home? Take him to one of the main roads or pathways?

‘I’m okay!’ He signed, ‘I got really lost and don’t know where I am. Can you show me where the nearest road is?’

He wouldn’t make it home for supper but his parents were probably worried sick by now. They would be more relieved than angry.

“...Um?” he said, shifting back a bit, watching the other skeleton… move his hands a lot.

“I… don’t understand,” he added a moment later, seeing the hope on the younger’s face. What did any of that mean? Maybe the merchant knew? He knew a lot of things. Maybe this was normal? He just had to get back to camp before Hugh noticed he was gone, and figure out how to explain the tiny skeleton, or maybe he could just leave the other here in the woods? He’d probably be okay, right? He really shouldn’t be gone for very--

“BOY.”

...he’d been gone for too long.

He scrambled to his feet, shooting the skeleton an apologetic look over his shoulder, and racing back to camp. “I’m here! I’m sorry!”

… Oh. He didn’t know wingdings. That… that was understandable if he didn’t live in his village, but… problematic.

He winced at the shout, the voice loud and unpleasant. The little skeleton watched the other run off and, despite how mean that voice had sounded, it was his only hope of getting back home tonight.

He followed.

He stumbled back into camp, panting a bit, and saying, “I just went out to see about a noise!” hoping it was explanation enough.

The human didn’t go to the cart to get out his cane, so the skeleton slumped a little, relieved. He’d messed up, but it had been okay.

“What kind of noise?” Hugh asked, moustache bristling as he talked.

“Uh, um,” he said. “Rustling?”

He hardly noticed the little skeleton coming up behind him.

The tiny skeleton pushed through the bushes and into camp, standing behind the other and off to the side.

Hopefully this one knew wingdings.

‘Hello! My name is Gaster and I’ve gotten lost. Can you point me to the nearest main road?’

Hugh startled a bit at the sight of the second skeleton, glancing between the little one and his much more familiar bag of bones, scratching his chin.

“...found a really young one now, didnt’cha?”

Gaster’s face fell.

That… wasn’t a very good thing to hear. He started to worry. This man probably didn’t understand wingdings either.

… He thought about running.

Hugh snorted and shook his head in a little version of a laugh. Still, he spotted the kid’s face falling, and quickly readjusted himself, getting down on the little skeleton’s level, his voice softening. “Hey, there, kiddo, don’t worry, it’ll be alright. You’re prob’ly pretty lost right now, huh?”

He turned to his own skeleton. “Go put on some more food for the little guy.”

Gaster nodded hesitantly and relaxed a little. He was lost. He was hungry.

… Maybe this man just gave a bad first impression.

He frowned and tried signing again, ‘Can you understand me?’

He watched the kid’s hands, frowning a bit, and turned to his skeleton. “You know what he’s doing with his hands?”

“No sir,” the skeleton replied, pulling out two more potatoes and a hunk of cheese. He didn’t mention meeting the boy in the forest.

He pouted and let his hands drop to his sides.

Gaster suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to talk like his mother wanted. Now he was stuck with two people who didn’t understand him.

His face brightened as he got an idea.

The little skeleton held out his hand and started to motion writing on it.

...welp. The little thing could apparently write--or thought it could. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh glanced over at his own skeleton, who was obediently putting on more food. Hopefully, the boy would either mistake the motion for more of that weird gesture or would know better than to touch Hugh’s pens without permission. For today, at least, he just said, “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t understand you. C’mon, let’s warm you up by the fire at least. Food should be warming up soon.”

What!? How could he not understand that gesture? It wasn’t even wingdings!

Gaster made another frantic attempt to make like he was writing, but could follow him to the fire nonetheless.

Ugh.

At least he was nice enough to give him something to eat.

He put a hand on the little skeleton’s shoulder and led him over to the fire, letting him sit down on one of the big rocks scattered around it.

“You know how old you are?” he asked as his own skeleton shuffled by to add some food into the kettle over the fire and stir it into a thin soup. A jar of something to drink was brought by, too. Hugh offered the little skeleton a mug. It was alcoholic, but alcohol was a good bit safer than water and kept better than most anything else.

Gaster took the mug and nodded a thanks, drinking some of it, just enough to quench his thirst. It was a lot stronger than what he was used to but it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t like he expected this man to have something weaker for when he met kids.

After handing the mug back he held up eight fingers.

Hugh took the mug back and filled it again, just in case. He hid his surprise at the actual response he was given. He’d picked up a smart one, hadn’t he? Could supposedly write and counted and everything.

He nodded and shifted aside a bit as his skeleton kept preparing the meal.

“How long you been out here?”

If he could write and count, maybe those sorts of things could stick around past death? Or maybe someone else was around.

Either way, he’d be happy to keep this one under wraps and get out of this forest quick.

Gaster wasn’t sure how to say ‘just tonight’ or ‘a few hours’, so he did the best he could and held up a single finger for ‘one day’.

Hugh nodded like he understood very well. “Been lost for a bit, then? Don’t worry, we’ll take care of ya, shorty.”

He gave the skeleton a smile, and his skeleton gave them both bowls of soup, a potato, and a hunk of cheese to melt in either.

That… no he hadn’t been lost for awhile. That wasn’t very long at all!

He frowned but took the soup and potato, nodding a thanks before eating hungrily.

The skeleton sat down once both the others had begun eating and began to pick at his own meal, scratching his wrist idly where a dark rune was tattooed on the bone just below his hand.

Hugh set the cup of alcohol close to the kid, hoping he’d drink a little more. It was strong and tended to hit pretty hard, though the food might slow it down. Either way, he’d much prefer it if the little skeleton slept sound through the night and didn’t put up a fuss in the morning.

Gaster caught sight of the rune and gave it a good, long stare. He liked runes. He didn’t know many but he knew more than your typical eight-year-old.

He ate his meal and drank a little more to wash it down.

With a full belly, a lot of panic, hours of walking, and alcohol, he would sleep pretty soundly despite everything.

It probably wasn’t the sort of rune he would have learned in a class, but it was recognizable as one. At least part of it was for a connection with an object at a distance. The rest was more obscure.

Hugh noticed the skeleton finishing up his meal and said, “You’re welcome to sleep in the wagon. It’s too late to travel tonight without worrying about animals or attacks, but it’s comfortable in there. Warmer than out here, certainly.”

Hugh and his skeleton finished up their own meals, the plates and dishes being stacked. The skeleton would rinse them and sleep outside.

They’d be moving before dawn.

The little one should still be asleep by then, with any luck.

Gaster nodded. That made sense.

He would try and thank them both for the meal as best he could before crawling into the wagon and sleeping. He was used to waking up a little before dawn.

When he woke up this time they were moving. His eyes tried to focus on what was happening, piece together the night before.

He had helped mom and dad with the chores before running off to school. He had gone back home, helped out more, and then ran off to play with his friends in the woods before supper.

He had… he had gotten lost and…

Gaster sat upright abruptly.

He flinched when the little skeleton suddenly sat up.

Hugh was steering the mules right now, and he’d climbed into the back for a short break from walking alongside the cart. Their pace wasn’t fast, but if he could lighten the load by walking, that’s what he was supposed to do.

With the extra skeleton on board, he hadn’t intended to rest long, but he’d apparently come in at exactly the wrong time. Or maybe his entrance had started the little one?

Either way, he looked apologetic and raised his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the wheels and hooves. “Are you okay?”

He looked fearfully at the other skeleton, but didn’t answer.

Instead he scrambled towards the front of the wagon to reach out and get the man’s attention to maybe try and ask him where they were going.

His eyes widened and he caught the little skeleton around the waist, hauling him back. “Hey! No! Don’t--don’t bother him right now, okay?”

Gaster nearly tripped, stumbling as he was grabbed. He spun around to face the other skeleton, wide-eyed with fear, and signed out of desperation. ‘Where are we going!?’ He pointed in every direction, hoping maybe that would get the point across.

He sort of got the message, heart still pounding after grabbing the kid. Fucking near miss.

“W-we’re just going to the next town. That’s all.”

He calmed a little, but still looked scared. What if it wasn’t his town?

Gaster made a walking gesture with his fingers to try and ask how far. If he knew how far it was then he would probably be able to tell if it was his town or not. A few hours of walking blindly in the woods couldn’t have meant he got that far.

“Um,” he tried to guess at what the skeleton might be saying, but it was really confusing and he was only really good with normal words, and then only some of them, so… “...you...don’t have to walk? Unless he tells you to walk, just take advantage of him saying nothing and ride along. It’s gonna take until noon for us to get there.”

He looked horrified.

Noon? Noon!? No! This had to be in the opposite direction!

Gaster started to scramble off the back of the cart.

The kid almost made it off the cart before his magic activated.

He caught the little skeleton just before he was about to jump off the back of the cart and hauled him back inside until he could get a good grip on him.

“Don’t,” he said, deactivating his magic but keeping his grip firm, hands on the little skeleton’s forearms.

Gaster struggled in the other’s grip, his tiny little arms trying to push the other away. He looked up at him, tears starting to build in his eye sockets, and pointed frantically in the opposite direction.

His home was that way! That way!!

Oh no. Oh God. Oh fuck. The little one was crying.

He understood what the little skeleton was saying this time. He understood perfectly.

“H-Hugh!” he shouted, and hated the break in his voice. “I-I think this one already belongs to someone!”

He shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to take things that weren’t theirs. Don’t touch anything that Hugh didn’t say he could. What was he supposed to do??

The mules came to a rocking stop.

‘Belongs’ was a strange term, but right now that was the last thing on his mind. He turned to look at the front, hoping that the man would just let him leave and walk back on his own. He couldn’t have gotten that far. A day of walking wasn’t that bad, right? He could do it.

The man came into the back and looked down at the two skeletons, frowning a bit.

“He trying to get out?”

His skeleton nodded, still holding the little one tight.

“Keep him still. This’ll take a minute.”

The human moved past them, heading towards one of the many stacks of items they had and digging through them. He pulled out a compass, a metal ring, and a plack of wood and ink brush.

His skeleton stiffened, but did as he was told, wrapping his arms all the way around the little skeleton and holding him still, uncertainly trying to comfort by rocking him a little.

His struggling stopped as he listened to their conversation, eyes blinking away tears.

He looked at the items and immediately pieced together what was going to happen, remembering the rune on the others arm.

Oh god… Oh god! No! Gaster let out a rough, meek little scream and started to kick and bite and scratch as much as he could at the skeleton holding him, at the man getting closer.

The skeleton squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, holding the other tight and trying hard to ignore the pain. Hold him still. As well as he was holding up, it didn’t mean the kid’s attacks weren’t affecting him. He yelped and tried to jerk away when he was bitten, but quickly regained his grip, bearing with the pain.

Finally, Hugh came up behind the little skeleton and gripped his neck in one large, rough hand. He tugged down the back of the kid’s tunic enough to reveal the back of his ribcage and spine, gripping his neck tight to force the kid still as he fixed the metal loop through the kid’s back, the wooden runic charm attached to the ring.

The tunic was pulled back into place. The ring and rune hidden easily beneath the clothes.

“You can’t run now. Best shape up and start listening,” Hugh said.

He wouldn’t.

This man was not his father. This man was a stranger kidnapping a child. Gaster only stopped when the hand was around his neck, gagging a bit until it was released. He kept on pushing at the skeleton holding him.

Run. He had to run.

He frowned when the child continued to struggle, watching his own skeleton’s eyes go wide with panic as he kept being shoved.

He turned to grab his cane.

The skeleton’s eyes widened even more and he gripped the child tighter, murmuring, “Stop, now, please, stop it now--” quietly enough the human hopefully couldn’t hear.

He didn’t stop. Gaster flailed his arms, still trying to get away.

The cane was long and black, made of oakwood and topped with a cut gemstone. Fake, but still strong and good enough looking.

His skeleton flinched when he saw it coming.

The newcomer wouldn’t have the chance.

He struck the back of the child’s skull with enough force to send both skeletons to the ground.

A split second of the most intense pain he had ever experienced in his life so far.

Gaster’s eyes went blank and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

The skeleton crashed to the ground with him, taking the blunt of the landing.

He finally let the child go, his arms shaking and his bones covered in scratches.

“Tie him up back here and gag him,” Hugh said, wiping the tip of the cane off and placing it back in its corner. “We don’t have time to civilize him before next market. Just keep him quiet and out of sight. Don’t let him run off.”

He nodded in understanding, and as Hugh went back to get the mules walking again, the skeleton got to work.

Gaster would be unconscious for hours. When he did finally wake up his skull was pounding and his eyes spun, unable to focus on anything.

He could barely remember what had happened.

The skeleton was packing up from the day’s sales when he noticed the other was awake, setting a box inside the wagon and spotting the opened eyes. He shuffled away, looking for something for the other to drink, and returned a moment later with something cold and seasoned. He poured it in a cup and ungagged the skeleton, bringing the cup to the other’s mouth.

He choked on it at first, then drank without thinking about it too much.

His head hurt.

Where was he?

He couldn’t move his arms or legs.

He rubbed the other’s shoulders near the neck junction, trying to help him relax and drink more easily.

He spoke softly, in case the head injury made his hearing more sensitive.

“Can you understand me still?”

The words were mumbled and a little loud, but Gaster managed the slightest little nod.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked, pausing after each question to await the answer before offering the drink again.

He drank a little more.

Did he?

… He had been kidnapped.

The man had hit him really hard over the head with something.

Emotions started to well up and he tugged at his bound wrists and ankles weakly. He started to cry silently and nodded again.

He tried to keep rubbing the other’s shoulder and back, hoping he would relax, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the metal ring.

“Shh, hey, it’s--it’s gonna be okay. It’s not that bad. You just started on the wrong foot.”

He smiled comfortingly.

His entire body tensed upon feeling the ring, lurching forward. Despite how much his head screamed he started to struggle, to try and feel where it was.

What was it? What was it!?

“S-stop struggling!” he said, voice still quiet but taking on a much more urgent tone. “Do you want to get in trouble again? Just relax. Hugh said he’d feed you tomorrow if you started behaving. That’s good, right? That’ll be something to look forward to…”

What!? Gaster turned and looked at the other with wide eye sockets. He… he was this guy’s slave?! Food was going to be hung over his head as a reward for obeying?

No. No this wasn’t happening.

He struggled through the swirling in his head and summoned an attack in his hand, a small bone flickering blue for a few seconds before eventually taking on the color permanently.

Gaster tried to burn the rope holding his wrists with it, but it was weak.

On instinct, he tried to knock the bone away from the bonds, hitting the little skeleton’s hands just enough to make him lose his grip and burning him along that arm. He yelped as his HP dropped.

“Boy! What’s going on in there? What’s taking so long?”

The voice came from outside, but Hugh himself didn’t appear. The skeleton froze and waited for him to finish speaking before saying, “Coming! T-tripped! I’ll be back out in a moment!”

The bone fell from his hands and dissipated soon after.

Gaster glared daggers up at the other skeleton, tears running down his face and teeth grit together.

He didn’t shy away from that look, though he felt awful about it. His hand still ached, but the kid would have to learn how to behave if he didn’t want the both of them getting in trouble.

He hoped the kid wouldn’t be… really awful to have along. He’d. Kind of been hoping for a friend, maybe, when Hugh first put the ring on?

He moved closer, placing the gag back in the other’s mouth and carefully holding him still as he untied the child’s hands, then retied them both individually, locking him between two metal poles keeping the frame of the wagon. It would make attacking the ropes a much more difficult task.

Then, another short apologetic glance over his shoulder, he hurried back outside, not keen on losing his own privileges or dinner over the younger one’s misbehavior.

It would already be bad enough if Hugh realized he’d lied about tripping, or that he’d somehow lost HP due to a sear on his hand.

He tried to bite him when the gag was placed back in his mouth.

He struggled when he untied his arms, trying to get away, but was much too weak.

Gaster watched him leave, glaring and crying.

… When he did finally get out of sight he started to sob silently, his little body retching with each gasp through the gag.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his mom and dad.

Why were they doing this?

His injuries, tears, and lack of food wouldn’t let him stay awake for very long.

The other skeleton appeared periodically, carrying wares back into the covered cart and stacking them in place. He glanced at the child occasionally, but didn’t disturb him anymore.

When he was done stacking, Hugh took inventory in the day’s dying light while the skeleton made a meal. In town, there was fresh produce, so he quite happily boiled meat that hadn’t been dried, sliced fresher bread, and poured milk.

It was almost looking like a good evening before Hugh shouted for him again and called him to the back of the wagon.

Gaster drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the day, his concussion making staying awake difficult already and nothing else helped either.

His head swam and he heard shouting, eyes flickering open weakly.

“...whole roll of fabric! Do you know how expensive fabric is?!” the human was shouting, pointing at one of the crates, red in the face.

“I’m sorry, I--I didn’t realize anyone was even near them! I didn’t notice!”

“Ten feet of fabric, boy! Ten feet! Who can steal that much and just walk away without being spotted?”

“I don’t know, they must’ve done it when I was looking away from the cart, I--”

Crack! Crack!

The skeleton fell to the ground, clutching his face after two swift blows to his cheekbones with the cane.

He whimpered, but didn’t complain or argue any further.

He watched, eyes half-lidded at first, but growing wider and wider as he watched the man strike the skeleton.

Gaster couldn’t shout or say anything. He could only watch in horror.

“...on yer life, I swear…” the man grumbled, the words hardly loud enough to be heard as he brushed past the skeleton and returned to checking their stores, eyes still narrowed and face still reddened with anger.

The skeleton glanced up and made accidental eye contact with the child.

He quickly looked down and away, shakily getting to his feet and stumbling back outside, one hand still clutching his face.

He didn’t complain.

He didn’t even look very surprised.

Gaster tried to hold his gaze as long as he could, eye lights watching the other skeleton stumble away.

… He had to get away. He had to get back home.

He struggled to summon another blue attack and tried really hard to sear through one of the ropes holding his wrists despite the weird angle.

“You stop that if you know what’s good for you,” Hugh said, turning to watch the little skeleton struggle.

Gaster froze.

The attack faded.

… Maybe if he ‘behaved’ he could run once he was untied.

Maybe waiting was the best option right now.

He curled into a ball and cried.

#BOINK!#mayem #the gaster brothers #rage #dings #hugh #undertale #RP log #child abuse #child slavery

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scenarios-on-ice · 7 years

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Roses are red

Violets are blue

This ‘poem’ sucks but

Happy Birthday to you

(Note: there was originally like eight more cynical lines about how birthdays mean you’re that much closer to the end, but I scrapped it because when I try to use dark humor it usually just ends up kinda gruesome.

There’s probably something wrong with me and someday we’ll find out what that is, but today is not that day)

Congratulations! @(^-^)@ You were only sixteen but your mind was older- now you’re seventeen, but I’m sure the latter part of that quote still applies and the blog will blow us all away even more than before! Hope you have a wonderful, satisfying birthday despite how non-stop you are (don’t forget to take a break when you can) and one last time, congratulations!

(also depending on how the timezone difference between Croatia and Korea works, we’re only a day or two apart- my birthday is March 30th, which is tomorrow over here! :D so cool)

“Whatever you say ma'am, Furuta will pay for his behavior! I’ll use tumblr, I’ll write under a pseudonym(Evans)- you’ll see what I can do to him!

But at least since he’s dead, you can finally speak your mind?”

I know, I still like the idea of trans Mutsuki better but other than any hints dropped in canon, I just think it’s very unlikely that TG as a Japanese manga will add a 100%, conmpletely confirmed LGBTQ character. I believe Ishida himself is pretty open towards the LGBTQ community (Nico’s portrayal is a bit questionable but in an omake Yomo is shown thinking that anyone he dates could become Touka’s aunt OR uncle (though of course that could be a translation error), Shuu is a subversion of manga stereotypes regarding gay men and TG in general has a lot of interesting themes regarding sexuality and gender), but idk, the idea of a mainstream seinen manga like TG adding LGBTQ themes that go beyond heavy implication seems unlikely (though who knows, it could happen).

Mutsuki just makes me bitter. FIrst all the arguments about their gender and now I don’t even like them anymore (they used to be an adorable cinnamon roll but after recent chapters, while I still feel for them they’ve become a lot less sympathetic).

(Also this just makes me sound salty but I recently came across a very aggressive blog dedicated to reminding everybody that MUTSKI IS MALE AND YOU ARE ALL WRONG and reading through it just made me kinda mad and irritated all at once. Once a trans person made a post saying that despite being trans themself they didn’t think Mutsuki was, offering several manga moments as decent evidence and being quite polite, and the mod of this blog answered them with what basically boils down to 'lol no it’s possible to be transphobic even if you’re part of the LGBTQ community and you are clearly one of these people’.)

Don’t worry, cinnamon roll Hinami isn’t being forgotten! :) I’m really looking forward to her meeting Akira. I’ve always liked Hina but these recent chapters pushed her up on my ‘favorite characters’ list- she’s just way too sweet.

Reading the manga: wth Ishida you are officially my least favorite person like even Isayama is better than you

Reading Ishida’s translated tweets/the comments he makes in TG extras: why are you so nice

Yeah, I kinda hated Urie at first (I understood his goals and motivations but did he really have to be such a jerk? I honestly thought he was going to get somebody killed in the auction arc) but after the auction arc I started to like him better (I think the official moment I decided ‘I like Urie Kuki as a character’ was when Shirazu died) and I kinda freaked out when I realized what happened to him…

He would make a great Burr though. I think he’s way more willing to act than Burr and is not a ‘talk less, smile more’ kind of person (more like a ‘talk less and don’t smile at all’ type) but they’re still really similar. I could also see Urie singing Wait for It…with Kaneki as Hamilton. Not because Kaneki particularly fits Hamilton but because of how Burr is clearly somewhat jealous about Hamilton’s progress despite not approving of his methods in Wait For It (in an interview about the song I think LMM said something about it describing the feeling of watching your friends and acquaintances getting so far ahead in life and thinking 'Wait for it; someday I’ll get there too’).

Am I the only one who headcanons that despite acting super classy and not knowing much about rap/hip-hop before someone (maybe Hori?) gets him to listen to it, Tsukiyama actually turns out to be a really good rapper?

Speaking of Tsukiyama though, I want to see more of his interactions with Naki

Hmm, since Mado died after he was already an adult couldn’t Akira technically count? We know from omakes that Mado was a doting father and made her childhood as happy as possible, so while her life might not have been 100% perfect it was still really good in TG terms. Takizawa before he entered the academy also counts.

but even those two had so much tragedy happen to them as adults…

(also, have you started reading the manga again? :D)

ok, that sounds creepy. Not going to be watching that.

Thank you so much for the recommendations though! Not sure if I’ll get the time to watch those but I think I saw some Magi volumes in a bookstore here so maybe I’ll check that out when I have the time!

And yeah, if you have any good animes/mangas to recommend, please do! And genre doesn’t matter- though I usually prefer dark, psychological stories I’m willing to make exceptions when the series in question is really good (that’s what I did with YoI after all :) the only genres I’m really reluctant to read are horror and high school romances).

I’m glad you liked them! And nope, don’t mind at all :D fangirling

I am back! Again, happy birthday ^^ I hope the day went well for you :) How old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking? I’m guessing it’s either 14 or 15.

And thank you very much for the poem, it’s very cute! I wouldn’t have minded the extra verses. They might’ve ruined the mood a bit, tho ^^;; The theme sounds like something baroque poems would write about... Don’t mind me, I just had an exam dealing with baroque, so I’m probably prone to making bad references to it.

I will never manage to reach your level of puns... I’ll just say that I’m very satisfied with the amount of them.

“Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he won’t come back. He died so another villain can take his place.

No matter how much I support trans Mu, I’d be very, very surprised if it actually become canon. I mean, as you’ve said, Japan and lgbt don’t quite go together that well... I guess we’ll just have to see... And nope, I still haven’t started to read the manga again. No time ^^;;

I’ve started to dislike Mu after the chapter in which his past was revealed. I just don’t have the will to stomach stories like that, honestly... Good horror/psychology manga/anime might interest me once in a while, but there’s a border I don’t like crossing. TG is waaay over it (which is probably a part of the reason why I dropped it, after all)

Gaah, it’s people like that that make dislike the lgbts... Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against people in that community and I won’t discriminate (though stuff like fictionkin and made-up pronouns do make me roll my eyes), but it’s these people that give people the wrong image about the whole community. Unfortunately, I’ve had quite a few encounters with those... aggressive people. I could go on and on about the things I saw as a part of this site, mostly concerning those ridiculous people who are probably in it because they think it’s ‘cool’ or ‘trendy’ to be bi or genderfluid. I get waaay too worked up over this theme, don’t I?

Oh, I’m so happy about her not being forgotten! She is a precious cinnamon roll and doesn’t deserve the life she has, she deserves so much better.

Boy, that sounds fun. Well, Ive had experience with the ‘reading manga’ part, but I don’t particularly follow tweets ^^;; I hope things work out in the manga!

Idk, I mean, I disliked him at first, but I got to like him very quickly. I just seem to like silent types like him (I say that, and yet I also like Phichit, Viktor, Haise and so on, who are nothing like him.... WHOOPS).

Signs that I’m slowly forgetting TG: *reading the message* ‘who... are these characters?’ I mean, I know the most important ones, like Haise, Urie, Akira and so on, but the other ones... This makes me very sad ;-;

Yeah, I guess that would make Kaneki a good Hamilton. STILL DON’T WANT BURR (COOKIE) TO KILL HIM, BECAUSE KANEKI IS A CINNAMON ROLL WHO DOESN’T DESERVE TO DIE! The dynamics between Kaneki and Urie don’t make a good Ham-Burr, but their positions in their job, so I guess they really are the best pair for Hamilton. Why did Ham have to die ;-; That makes casting so much harder for me.

Oh yeah, Tsukiyama would be an amazing rappers, I don’t doubt it at all. In fact, I’m sure that he’d be able to do Guns and Ships perfectly.

Fun fact: You made a typo saying ‘Mado died after SHE became an adult’ (I changed it) and you gave me the biggest heart attack. Pls, my phone wasn’t used to the speed with which I typed ‘TOKYO GHOUL WIKI AKIRA MADO’ to check if what you said is true. Yeah, Akira could count, I guess. That makes a total of ONE character... Not much, eh?

I don’t know if I count Takizawa... I think that the way his life is now, it very much makes up the lack of angst in his childhood.

Oh yeah, one last concern about The World Is Still Beautiful!

WHY IS THERE A CHARACTER NAMED LUNA WHO ACTS LIKE AN INSUFFERABLE BRAT DURING HER WHOLE SCREEN TIME, I DEMAND JUSTICE!

I’m done.

One last recommendation:

LOVE LIVE AKA CUTE IDOLS. I invite you to join me in the pits of idol hell :) It(s not a romance, don’t worry. Also, there’s a mobile rhythm tapping game if you’re interested :))

Ooh, I’d be so happy if you’d start reading Magi! During the later volumes, it gets reeally psychological, so I think you might like it! I’d say something, but spoilers!

Well, I’ll go add the text to the post, then ^^

#evans #tokyo ghoul anon #submission

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cover2covermom · 4 years

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Today I am sharing my favorite reads of 2019! I read 130 books in 2019, so narrowing down my list to only 10 books was not going to happen #SorryNotSorry

Here are my favorite 24 books of 2019….

» The Winter of the Witch (Winternight #3) by Katherine Arden

Now Moscow has been struck by disaster. Its people are searching for answers—and for someone to blame. Vasya finds herself alone, beset on all sides. The Grand Prince is in a rage, choosing allies that will lead him on a path to war and ruin. A wicked demon returns, stronger than ever and determined to spread chaos. Caught at the center of the conflict is Vasya, who finds the fate of two worlds resting on her shoulders. Her destiny uncertain, Vasya will uncover surprising truths about herself and her history as she desperately tries to save Russia, Morozko, and the magical world she treasures. But she may not be able to save them all.

The Winter of the Witch was the perfect conclusion to the Winternight Trilogy. The Winternight Trilogy really has it all: political intrigue, Russian folklore, magic, action, adventure, a bad ass leading lady… I cannot recommend this series enough.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Winter of the Witch

» The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

Alaska, 1920: a brutal place to homestead, and especially tough for recent arrivals Jack and Mabel. Childless, they are drifting apart–he breaking under the weight of the work of the farm; she crumbling from loneliness and despair. In a moment of levity during the season’s first snowfall, they build a child out of snow. The next morning the snow child is gone–but they glimpse a young, blonde-haired girl running through the trees. This little girl, who calls herself Faina, seems to be a child of the woods. She hunts with a red fox at her side, skims lightly across the snow, and somehow survives alone in the Alaskan wilderness. As Jack and Mabel struggle to understand this child who could have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale, they come to love her as their own daughter. But in this beautiful, violent place things are rarely as they appear, and what they eventually learn about Faina will transform all of them.

There was so much that I adored about this book: the beautiful writing, the characters, the plot inspired by Russian folklore, the magic realism elements, the frontier setting of 1920s Alaska…

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Snow Child

» Moloka’i by Alan Brennert

This richly imagined novel, set in Hawai’i more than a century ago, is an extraordinary epic of a little-known time and place—and a deeply moving testament to the resiliency of the human spirit.

Rachel Kalama, a spirited seven-year-old Hawaiian girl, dreams of visiting far-off lands like her father, a merchant seaman. Then one day a rose-colored mark appears on her skin, and those dreams are stolen from her. Taken from her home and family, Rachel is sent to Kalaupapa, the quarantined leprosy settlement on the island of Moloka’i. Here her life is supposed to end—but instead she discovers it is only just beginning.

This book was absolutely heartbreaking on so many different levels. I cried on two different occasions while reading it, and I seldom cry while reading books.

Moloka’i included themes like family (traditional and nontraditional), friendship, freedom, hope, love, religion/faith (Christianity vs. Paganism), illness, loss, and grief. This book blew me away. I read it along with one of my book clubs, and every member enjoyed it.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Moloka’i

» Circe by Madeline Miller

In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child—not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power—the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

I adore how Madeline Miller weaves her Greek Mythology retellings. The more of Madeline’s retellings I read, the more I want to read Homer’s The Illiad & The Odyssey. Even though I have not read Homer’s books, from what I’ve researched, Miller stays true to the original story while creating an entirely new spin on the story. Honestly, I hope she will continue this trend because I will read every one she comes out with.

Circe includes themes like complicated family dynamics, mortality vs. immortality, sexism/gender inequality, destiny, motherhood, sex positivity, and love. I was engaged from beginning to end.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Circe

» The Poppy War (The Poppy War #1) by R.F. Kuang

When Rin aced the Keju, the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies, it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn’t believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin’s guardians, who believed they’d finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her daily existence. That she got into Sinegard, the most elite military school in Nikan, was even more surprising.

But surprises aren’t always good.

Because being a dark-skinned peasant girl from the south is not an easy thing at Sinegard. Targeted from the outset by rival classmates for her color, poverty, and gender, Rin discovers she possesses a lethal, unearthly power—an aptitude for the nearly-mythical art of shamanism. Exploring the depths of her gift with the help of a seemingly insane teacher and psychoactive substances, Rin learns that gods long thought dead are very much alive—and that mastering control over those powers could mean more than just surviving school.

For while the Nikara Empire is at peace, the Federation of Mugen still lurks across a narrow sea. The militarily advanced Federation occupied Nikan for decades after the First Poppy War, and only barely lost the continent in the Second. And while most of the people are complacent to go about their lives, a few are aware that a Third Poppy War is just a spark away . . .

Rin’s shamanic powers may be the only way to save her people. But as she finds out more about the god that has chosen her, the vengeful Phoenix, she fears that winning the war may cost her humanity . . . and that it may already be too late.

If I had to sum up The Poppy War in a few words, they would be epic, brutal, and morally gray. I flew through this book despite it being 544 pages! I cannot wait to get my hands on the second book next month.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Poppy War

» Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

The first ten lies they tell you in high school.

“Speak up for yourself—we want to know what you have to say.”

From the first moment of her freshman year at Merryweather High, Melinda knows this is a big fat lie, part of the nonsense of high school. She is friendless, outcast, because she busted an end-of-summer party by calling the cops, so now nobody will talk to her, let alone listen to her. As time passes, she becomes increasingly isolated and practically stops talking altogether. Only her art class offers any solace, and it is through her work on an art project that she is finally able to face what really happened at that terrible party: she was raped by an upperclassman, a guy who still attends Merryweather and is still a threat to her. Her healing process has just begun when she has another violent encounter with him. But this time Melinda fights back, refuses to be silent, and thereby achieves a measure of vindication.

In Laurie Halse Anderson’s powerful novel, an utterly believable heroine with a bitterly ironic voice delivers a blow to the hypocritical world of high school. She speaks for many a disenfranchised teenager while demonstrating the importance of speaking up for oneself.

Speak was a 1999 National Book Award Finalist for Young People’s Literature.

Books that explore sexual assault victimization are so important, especially in the YA target age range, because they can inform, increases empathy, and challenge problematic rape culture. Speak needs to be required reading for all high school aged kids.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Speak

» Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Everyone knows Daisy Jones & The Six, but nobody knows the reason behind their split at the absolute height of their popularity . . . until now.

Daisy is a girl coming of age in L.A. in the late sixties, sneaking into clubs on the Sunset Strip, sleeping with rock stars, and dreaming of singing at the Whisky a Go Go. The sex and drugs are thrilling, but it’s the rock and roll she loves most. By the time she’s twenty, her voice is getting noticed, and she has the kind of heedless beauty that makes people do crazy things.

Also getting noticed is The Six, a band led by the brooding Billy Dunne. On the eve of their first tour, his girlfriend Camila finds out she’s pregnant, and with the pressure of impending fatherhood and fame, Billy goes a little wild on the road.

Daisy and Billy cross paths when a producer realizes that the key to supercharged success is to put the two together. What happens next will become the stuff of legend.

The making of that legend is chronicled in this riveting and unforgettable novel, written as an oral history of one of the biggest bands of the seventies. Taylor Jenkins Reid is a talented writer who takes her work to a new level with Daisy Jones & The Six, brilliantly capturing a place and time in an utterly distinctive voice.

I know this book has very mixed reviews due to its format, but I LOVED this book. Since Daisy Jones and the Six is told in interview format from many different characters, many people were turned off. Since I knew this was the format going into the book, this read like a classic rock band documentary playing out in my mind. This book was meant for TV or film adaptation.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Daisy Jones and the Six

» The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin

As surprising as it is moving, The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry is an unforgettable tale of transformation and second chances, an irresistible affirmation of why we read, and why we love.

We are not quite novels.

We are not quite short stories.

In the end, we are collected works.

A. J. Fikry’s life is not at all what he expected it to be. His wife has died; his bookstore is experiencing the worst sales in its history; and now his prized possession, a rare collection of Poe poems, has been stolen. Slowly but surely, he is isolating himself from all the people of Alice Island—from Chief Lambiase, the well-intentioned police officer who’s always felt kindly toward him; from Ismay, his sister-in-law, who is hell-bent on saving A.J. from his dreary self; from Amelia, the lovely and idealistic (if eccentric) Knightley Press sales rep who persists in taking the ferry to Alice Island, refusing to be deterred by A.J.’s bad attitude. Even the books in his store have stopped holding pleasure for him. These days, he can only see them as a sign of a world that is changing too rapidly.

And then a mysterious package appears at the bookstore. It’s a small package, though large in weight—an unexpected arrival that gives A.J. the opportunity to make his life over, the ability to see everything anew. It doesn’t take long for the locals to notice the change overcoming A.J., for the determined sales rep Amelia to see her curmudgeonly client in a new light, for the wisdom of all those books to become again the lifeblood of A.J.’s world. Or for everything to twist again into a version of his life that he didn’t see coming.

What bookworm doesn’t love a story about books, bookstores, and the people that love books? The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry was heartwarming, funny, and emotional. I’d recommend this book to fans of quirky characters & fans of books like A Man Called Ove.

This made for an excellent book club discussion with the moral dilemmas in the story.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Storied Life of AJ Fikrey

» With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo

With her daughter to care for and her abuela to help support, high school senior Emoni Santiago has to make the tough decisions, and do what must be done. The one place she can let her responsibilities go is in the kitchen, where she adds a little something magical to everything she cooks, turning her food into straight-up goodness. Still, she knows she doesn’t have enough time for her school’s new culinary arts class, doesn’t have the money for the class’s trip to Spain — and shouldn’t still be dreaming of someday working in a real kitchen. But even with all the rules she has for her life — and all the rules everyone expects her to play by — once Emoni starts cooking, her only real choice is to let her talent break free.

I adored Elizabeth Acevedo’s debut novel, The Poet X, so I was very excited to read her next book. I listened to her first book via audiobook, and fell in love with the author’s narration. I chose to listen to Fire on High via audiobook as well. I loved this one just as much as her first! Elizabeth Acevedo has a beautiful way with words & I adore her characters & plotlines. I typically stray away from YA contemporary, but I’ll read anything Acevedo writes!

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: With the Fire On High

» The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease

Recommended by “Dear Abby”, The New York Times and The Washington Post, for three decades, millions of parents and educators have turned to Jim Trelease’s beloved classic to help countless children become avid readers through awakening their imaginations and improving their language skills. Now this new edition of The Read-Aloud Handbook imparts the benefits, rewards, and importance of reading aloud to children of a new generation. Supported by delightful anecdotes as well as the latest research, The Read-Aloud Handbook offers proven techniques and strategies—and the reasoning behind them—for helping children discover the pleasures of reading and setting them on the road to becoming lifelong readers.

The Read-Aloud Family is about the the reasoning and the research/evidence behind why you should be reading aloud with your children. Since childhood literacy is a passion of mine, this book was absolutely fascinating! This book should be read by all parents, educators, and librarians!

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Read-Aloud Handbook

» Red Sister (Book of the Ancestor #1) by Mark Lawrence

I was born for killing – the gods made me to ruin.

At the Convent of Sweet Mercy young girls are raised to be killers. In a few the old bloods show, gifting talents rarely seen since the tribes beached their ships on Abeth. Sweet Mercy hones its novices’ skills to deadly effect: it takes ten years to educate a Red Sister in the ways of blade and fist.

But even the mistresses of sword and shadow don’t truly understand what they have purchased when Nona Grey is brought to their halls as a bloodstained child of eight, falsely accused of murder: guilty of worse.

Stolen from the shadow of the noose, Nona is sought by powerful enemies, and for good reason. Despite the security and isolation of the convent her secret and violent past will find her out. Beneath a dying sun that shines upon a crumbling empire, Nona Grey must come to terms with her demons and learn to become a deadly assassin if she is to survive…

From the very first line, I was completely captivated by Red Sister. The characters are complex. The world is well developed and fascinating. The plot was fast paced, action-packed, and an adventure from start to finish. This book has everything I love in my fantasy books: bad ass leading lady, action, magic abilities, school/training setting, political drama, and an emphasis on friendships.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Red Sister

» A Game of Thrones (A Song of Fire and Ice #1) by George R.R. Martin

Here is the first volume in George R. R. Martin’s magnificent cycle of novels that includes A Clash of Kings and A Storm of Swords. As a whole, this series comprises a genuine masterpiece of modern fantasy, bringing together the best the genre has to offer. Magic, mystery, intrigue, romance, and adventure fill these pages and transport us to a world unlike any we have ever experienced. Already hailed as a classic, George R. R. Martin’s stunning series is destined to stand as one of the great achievements of imaginative fiction.

A GAME OF THRONES

Long ago, in a time forgotten, a preternatural event threw the seasons out of balance. In a land where summers can last decades and winters a lifetime, trouble is brewing. The cold is returning, and in the frozen wastes to the north of Winterfell, sinister and supernatural forces are massing beyond the kingdom’s protective Wall. At the center of the conflict lie the Starks of Winterfell, a family as harsh and unyielding as the land they were born to. Sweeping from a land of brutal cold to a distant summertime kingdom of epicurean plenty, here is a tale of lords and ladies, soldiers and sorcerers, assassins and bastards, who come together in a time of grim omens.

Here an enigmatic band of warriors bear swords of no human metal; a tribe of fierce wildlings carry men off into madness; a cruel young dragon prince barters his sister to win back his throne; and a determined woman undertakes the most treacherous of journeys. Amid plots and counterplots, tragedy and betrayal, victory and terror, the fate of the Starks, their allies, and their enemies hangs perilously in the balance, as each endeavors to win that deadliest of conflicts: the game of thrones.

Game of Thrones is full of action, adventure, humor, political intrigue, plot twists, and lots of death. I was completely engrossed in this book from start to finish. I cannot wait to read the rest of the books in this series!

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: A Game of Thrones

» The Library Book by Susan Orlean

On the morning of April 29, 1986, a fire alarm sounded in the Los Angeles Public Library. As the moments passed, the patrons and staff who had been cleared out of the building realized this was not the usual fire alarm. As one fireman recounted, “Once that first stack got going, it was ‘Goodbye, Charlie.’” The fire was disastrous: it reached 2000 degrees and burned for more than seven hours. By the time it was extinguished, it had consumed four hundred thousand books and damaged seven hundred thousand more. Investigators descended on the scene, but more than thirty years later, the mystery remains: Did someone purposefully set fire to the library—and if so, who?

Weaving her lifelong love of books and reading into an investigation of the fire, award-winning New Yorker reporter and New York Times bestselling author Susan Orlean delivers a mesmerizing and uniquely compelling book that manages to tell the broader story of libraries and librarians in a way that has never been done before.

In The Library Book, Orlean chronicles the LAPL fire and its aftermath to showcase the larger, crucial role that libraries play in our lives; delves into the evolution of libraries across the country and around the world, from their humble beginnings as a metropolitan charitable initiative to their current status as a cornerstone of national identity; brings each department of the library to vivid life through on-the-ground reporting; studies arson and attempts to burn a copy of a book herself; reflects on her own experiences in libraries; and reexamines the case of Harry Peak, the blond-haired actor long suspected of setting fire to the LAPL more than thirty years ago.

Along the way, Orlean introduces us to an unforgettable cast of characters from libraries past and present—from Mary Foy, who in 1880 at eighteen years old was named the head of the Los Angeles Public Library at a time when men still dominated the role, to Dr. C.J.K. Jones, a pastor, citrus farmer, and polymath known as “The Human Encyclopedia” who roamed the library dispensing information; from Charles Lummis, a wildly eccentric journalist and adventurer who was determined to make the L.A. library one of the best in the world, to the current staff, who do heroic work every day to ensure that their institution remains a vital part of the city it serves.

Brimming with her signature wit, insight, compassion, and talent for deep research, The Library Book is Susan Orlean’s thrilling journey through the stacks that reveals how these beloved institutions provide much more than just books—and why they remain an essential part of the heart, mind, and soul of our country. It is also a master journalist’s reminder that, perhaps especially in the digital era, they are more necessary than ever.

The Library Book is an ode to libraries, and how they are such an important staple in a community.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Library Book

» The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

Alaska, 1974. Unpredictable. Unforgiving. Untamed. For a family in crisis, the ultimate test of survival.

Ernt Allbright, a former POW, comes home from the Vietnam war a changed and volatile man. When he loses yet another job, he makes an impulsive decision: he will move his family north, to Alaska, where they will live off the grid in America’s last true frontier.

Thirteen-year-old Leni, a girl coming of age in a tumultuous time, caught in the riptide of her parents’ passionate, stormy relationship, dares to hope that a new land will lead to a better future for her family. She is desperate for a place to belong. Her mother, Cora, will do anything and go anywhere for the man she loves, even if it means following him into the unknown.

At first, Alaska seems to be the answer to their prayers. In a wild, remote corner of the state, they find a fiercely independent community of strong men and even stronger women. The long, sunlit days and the generosity of the locals make up for the Allbrights’ lack of preparation and dwindling resources.

But as winter approaches and darkness descends on Alaska, Ernt’s fragile mental state deteriorates and the family begins to fracture. Soon the perils outside pale in comparison to threats from within. In their small cabin, covered in snow, blanketed in eighteen hours of night, Leni and her mother learn the terrible truth: they are on their own. In the wild, there is no one to save them but themselves.

In this unforgettable portrait of human frailty and resilience, Kristin Hannah reveals the indomitable character of the modern American pioneer and the spirit of a vanishing Alaska―a place of incomparable beauty and danger. The Great Alone is a daring, beautiful, stay-up-all-night story about love and loss, the fight for survival, and the wildness that lives in both man and nature

This book was a roller coaster of emotion & heavy topics. Themes included in The Great Alone include survival, coming of age, PTSD, domestic violence, family, & resilience.

You can read my mini review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Great Alone

» The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) by R.F. Kuang

The searing follow-up to 2018’s most celebrated fantasy debut – THE POPPY WAR.

In the aftermath of the Third Poppy War, shaman and warrior Rin is on the run: haunted by the atrocity she committed to end the war, addicted to opium, and hiding from the murderous commands of her vengeful god, the fiery Phoenix. Her only reason for living is to get revenge on the traitorous Empress who sold out Nikan to their enemies.

With no other options, Rin joins forces with the powerful Dragon Warlord, who has a plan to conquer Nikan, unseat the Empress, and create a new Republic. Rin throws herself into his war. After all, making war is all she knows how to do.

But the Empress is a more powerful foe than she appears, and the Dragon Warlord’s motivations are not as democratic as they seem. The more Rin learns, the more she fears her love for Nikan will drive her away from every ally and lead her to rely more and more on the Phoenix’s deadly power. Because there is nothing she won’t sacrifice for her country and her vengeance.

The sequel to R.F. Kuang’s acclaimed debut THE POPPY WAR, THE DRAGON REPUBLIC combines the history of 20th-century China with a gripping world of gods and monsters, to devastating effect.

I’m happy to report that there was no second book syndrome for this epic series! The Dragon Republic was an excellent follow up to The Poppy War.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: The Dragon Republic

» Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga

I am learning how to be sad and happy at the same time.

Jude never thought she’d be leaving her beloved older brother and father behind, all the way across the ocean in Syria. But when things in her hometown start becoming volatile, Jude and her mother are sent to live in Cincinnati with relatives.

At first, everything in America seems too fast and too loud. The American movies that Jude has always loved haven’t quite prepared her for starting school in the US—and her new label of “Middle Eastern,” an identity she’s never known before. But this life also brings unexpected surprises—there are new friends, a whole new family, and a school musical that Jude might just try out for. Maybe America, too, is a place where Jude can be seen as she really is.

This is such an important middle grade book because it deals with a refugee experience with mild tones of Islamophobia. Warga handles these topics with care & authenticity

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Other Words for Home

» Heroine by Mindy McGinnis

An Amazon Best Book of the Month! A captivating and powerful exploration of the opioid crisis—the deadliest drug epidemic in American history—through the eyes of a college-bound softball star. Edgar Award-winning author Mindy McGinnis delivers a visceral and necessary novel about addiction, family, friendship, and hope.

When a car crash sidelines Mickey just before softball season, she has to find a way to hold on to her spot as the catcher for a team expected to make a historic tournament run. Behind the plate is the only place she’s ever felt comfortable, and the painkillers she’s been prescribed can help her get there.

The pills do more than take away pain; they make her feel good.

With a new circle of friends—fellow injured athletes, others with just time to kill—Mickey finds peaceful acceptance, and people with whom words come easily, even if it is just the pills loosening her tongue.

But as the pressure to be Mickey Catalan heightens, her need increases, and it becomes less about pain and more about want, something that could send her spiraling out of control.

This book is one the best portrayals of drug addiction that I’ve ever read. It was raw, gritty, and deeply unsettling.

You can read my mini book review here ⇒ Mini Book Review: Heroine

» The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow

In the early 1900s, a young woman embarks on a fantastical journey of self-discovery after finding a mysterious book in this captivating and lyrical debut.

In a sprawling mansion filled with peculiar treasures, January Scaller is a curiosity herself. As the ward of the wealthy Mr. Locke, she feels little different from the artifacts that decorate the halls: carefully maintained, largely ignored, and utterly out of place.

Then she finds a strange book. A book that carries the scent of other worlds, and tells a tale of secret doors, of love, adventure and danger. Each page turn reveals impossible truths about the world and January discovers a story increasingly entwined with her own.

Lush and richly imagined, a tale of impossible journeys, unforgettable love, and the enduring power of stories awaits in Alix E. Harrow’s spellbinding debut–step inside and discover its magic.

I adored this heartwarming story of love, grief, and perseverance.

» Brave by Svetlana Chmakova

In his daydreams, Jensen is the biggest hero that ever was, saving the world and his friends on a daily basis. But his middle school reality is VERY different – math is hard, getting along with friends is hard…Even finding a partner for the class project is a big problem when you always get picked last. And the pressure’s on even more once the school newspaper’s dynamic duo, Jenny and Akilah, draw Jensen into the whirlwind of school news, social experiment projects, and behind-the-scenes club drama. Jensen’s always played the middle school game one level at a time, but suddenly, someone’s cranked up the difficulty setting. Will those daring daydreams of his finally work in his favor, or will he have to find real solutions to his real life problems?

The charming world of Berrybrook Middle School gets a little bigger in this highly anticipated follow up to Svetlana Chmakova’s award winning Awkward with a story about a boy who learns his own way of being Brave!

LOVED this graphic novel from the illustrations to the story. A wonderful depiction of the struggles of middle school.

» Emily of New Moon (Emily #1), Emily Climbs (Emily #2), &

Emily’s Quest (Emily #3) by L.M. Montgomery

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Emily Starr never knew what it was to be lonely — until her beloved father died. Now Emily’s an orphan, and her mother’s snobbish relatives are taking her to live with them at New Moon Farm. She’s sure she won’t be happy. Emily deals with stiff, stern Aunt Elizabeth and her malicious classmates by holding her head high and using her quick wit. Things begin to change when she makes friends: with Teddy, who does marvelous drawings; with Perry, who’s sailed all over the world with his father yet has never been to school; and above all, with Ilse, a tomboy with a blazing temper. Amazingly, Emily finds New Moon beautiful and fascinating. With new friends and adventures, Emily might someday think of herself as Emily of New Moon.

If you enjoyed Anne of Green Gables, you’ll enjoy this series too!

» Educated by Tara Westover

Tara Westover was 17 the first time she set foot in a classroom. Born to survivalists in the mountains of Idaho, she prepared for the end of the world by stockpiling home-canned peaches and sleeping with her “head-for-the-hills bag”. In the summer she stewed herbs for her mother, a midwife and healer, and in the winter she salvaged in her father’s junkyard.

Her father forbade hospitals, so Tara never saw a doctor or nurse. Gashes and concussions, even burns from explosions, were all treated at home with herbalism. The family was so isolated from mainstream society that there was no one to ensure the children received an education and no one to intervene when one of Tara’s older brothers became violent.

Then, lacking any formal education, Tara began to educate herself. She taught herself enough mathematics and grammar to be admitted to Brigham Young University, where she studied history, learning for the first time about important world events like the Holocaust and the civil rights movement. Her quest for knowledge transformed her, taking her over oceans and across continents, to Harvard and to Cambridge. Only then would she wonder if she’d traveled too far, if there was still a way home.

Educated is an account of the struggle for self-invention. It is a tale of fierce family loyalty and of the grief that comes with severing the closest of ties. With the acute insight that distinguishes all great writers, Westover has crafted a universal coming-of-age story that gets to the heart of what an education is and what it offers: the perspective to see one’s life through new eyes and the will to change it.

This memoir was absolutely heartbreaking & horrifying. Educated makes for a perfect book club selection.

» All-American Muslim Girl by Nadine Jolie Courtney

Allie Abraham has it all going for her—she’s a straight-A student, with good friends and a close-knit family, and she’s dating cute, popular, and sweet Wells Henderson. One problem: Wells’s father is Jack Henderson, America’s most famous conservative shock jock…and Allie hasn’t told Wells that her family is Muslim. It’s not like Allie’s religion is a secret, exactly. It’s just that her parents don’t practice and raised her to keep her Islamic heritage to herself. But as Allie witnesses ever-growing Islamophobia in her small town and across the nation, she begins to embrace her faith—studying it, practicing it, and facing hatred and misunderstanding for it. Who is Allie, if she sheds the façade of the “perfect” all-American girl? What does it mean to be a “Good Muslim?” And can a Muslim girl in America ever truly fit in?

ALL-AMERICAN MUSLIM GIRL is a relevant, relatable story of being caught between two worlds, and the struggles and hard-won joys of finding your place.

This was a beautiful coming-of-age story about a girl that is struggling with her identity and feels the need to hide her true self. I loved the growth of the main character, Allie, from start to finish. I also think this book does a beautiful job of laying out what Islam is, and what it isn’t.

Did you read any of the books on my list? If so, what did you think?

What are some of your favorite books of 2019?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

Favorite Books of 2019 #BookBlogger #Bookworm #Bibliophile #Books #Reading Today I am sharing my favorite reads of 2019! I read 130 books in 2019, so narrowing down my list to only 10 books was not going to happen #SorryNotSorry…

#Am Reading #Bibliophile #book blog #book blogger #Book Chat #Book Nerd #Book Talk #Book Worm #Bookish #Books #Bookworm #Reading

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slayingallthesewomenwithmypeen · 5 years

Text

[Title in the Works] - 01

;hey guys! this is for a story I'm writing, and it's something I've had in mind for almost a year now, so I've decided to share the first chapter! i hope you enjoy. if you have any title suggestions please don't hesitate to share.

thank you all!

-Daisy💕

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

This chapter includes violent themes and driving while intoxicated.

--------------------------

April 12th, 1987

__________

If you were to ask where people usually are on a Sunday night in Boston, they'd almost all unanimously reply with watching the Bruins.

If not then they likely had something better to do.

But based on the rumbling and roaring of the crowd in the small pub downtown Boston, that didn't seem to be the case.

Cheering ran throughout the large room as a hockey game played on four different T.Vs, with men and women gathering around them to cheer for their boys in yellow and boo at Montreal aggressively.

Granted about half the crowd was completely wasted.

Waitresses walked around the establishment with tray-fulls of cheap beer to hand out to the customers as they continued to yell at the game, some getting mad as the people on the screen didn't do what they had yelled at them for the past half hour to do.

Eyeing one of the waitresses from the bar was Kate, the one with the more blonde in her hair, and her skin bearing a fairer complexion compared to her friend.

A cat-like look danced in her eyes as she scanned the crowd, then at the Bruins who weren't doing so hot.

She chuckled to herself.

Next to her, paying no mind to the waitresses (or let alone the game) like her friend was Phoebe.

She instead idly stirred her mixed drink with the tiny black straw that came with it.

Phoebe had noticeably tanner, freckled skin, sporting ginger hair and grey eyes.

Sitting next to Kate, the two did not at all seem like friends if one were to guess.

Kate twirled around on her barstool and faced her friend, smiling, "I knew the Bruins were gonna lose. Now that fat guy in the Hawaiian shirt over there owes me $50."

Phoebe didn't seem to have any reaction towards her friend's statement, continuing to stir the drink and staring blankly at it.

Her friend raised a brow, clearly understanding how out of character her ginger pal was and reached over to pluck the straw from her hand.

"I think the Alabama Slammer's mixed enough dude." Kate commented.

Phoebe looked up at her, seeming to snap out of the trance, "Sorry..." she apologized quickly, "I guess I'm just not feeling it tonight."

Kate leaned on her hand as she looked at her friend, "Feels weird being back here, huh?"

The ginger nodded, "Little bit." she said silently as she sipped her drink, "At least I haven't bumped into them yet."

"What, your parents?" Kate asked, scrunching her brows as she glanced around the bar, "Your blue-collared folks in this shithole?"

She shrugged, "You never know."

"Yeah, but from what you've told me about them they wouldn't even piss in the toilets in a place like this." Kate replied, a swig of her beer following her words, "So I wouldn't worry."

"I wouldn't really say I'm worried," Phoebe replied, "It's just weird."

The blonde sighed, "Just relax man. S'not like they're forming some kind of witch hunt for you still even after all this time."

Phoebe stayed silent for a moment, letting the cries of the hockey fans drown out her unspoken reply.

Kate rolled her eyes and nudged her shoulder, "C'mon, I'm gonna get my 50 first from the Pillsbury dough-boy over there and then we can bounce. Just go wait in the car."

Kate tossed the keys at Phoebe, who caught them with her two hands and nodded in reply.

She got up and walked out of the bar, the parking lot surprisingly enough being barren despite the large crowd of people inside.

Phoebe got to their 1978 Ford Mustang and unlocked the car.

She got into the front seat, slamming the door next to her shut, and threw the keys onto the dashboard.

Though she tried, she just couldn't shake the awkward feeling of being home back so easily as Kate had tried to.

Her parents may not enjoy places like these as she may, but that doesn't mean the people here don't talk to one another.

Especially since Phoebe's father was a pastor of one of the largest churches in the city.

The thought of that by itself made her head cloud from the embarrassment.

Nothing would make a juicy story for every ear in this drunken city like hearing the pastor's daughter running around town making a fool of herself.

'Great.' she muttered in her head, 'As if me ditching hadn't made things worse before.'

Interrupting her silent scolding was laughter, and footsteps that sounded like running towards the car.

Phoebe turned around and looked out of the back window of the car to see Kate with a handful of cash and a wild grin plastered onto her face as the man in the Hawaiian shirt chased after her along with a buddy of his.

The second man, based on what she could get a glimpse of in the dark, had such a shiny bald head she wouldn't have been surprise if he had a marble where a skull would've been.

The fat man's mouth was covered in blood, his expression was one of pure anger.

His pace- while still fast- wasn't fast enough for Kate as she made it to the car in time, and quickly got into the driver's seat.

She threw the cash onto the dash, grabbing the keys and starting the car, her laughter subsiding as she caught her breath.

Phoebe hadn't had the time to even ask what had happened yet as Kate whipped out of the parking lot with a sharp turn and hit the gas.

The mens yelling and cursing in the background faded when they started going farther down the road.

Phoebe glanced at Kate, who looked at her as if she had just experienced a glorious high.

"Dickhead over there said he knew your dad," she explained, a pit in Phoebe's stomach already forming from the guilt, "He said he'd tell him he saw our plate unless I gave him a little something. Told him no, he tried to grab me, and so I broke his tooth and took whatever was in his wallet."

Kate had described the whole ordeal in a tone where she acts as this happens to her on a daily.

Which frankly, Kate getting into fights wasn't something out of the ordinary for the two of them to go through.

Phoebe chuckled nervously, her anxiety worsening, "Shit, he saw our plates?"

"Don't worry," Kate assured nonchalantly with a giggle, "We can always switch em."

Phoebe could feel her organs sinking into a pit, "How did he even recognize me?"

"Hell if I know."

The ginger turned to Kate, looking at her overall demeanor as her friend swerved a little on the road.

"Kate..." Phoebe reached over and put her hand on the wheel to guide the car in a safer way, "Dude you're drunk off your ass. Let me drive."

Kate blew a raspberry, "I'm not drunk'" she objected, smacking Phoebe's hand away, "I can drive just fine, don't be such a worry-wart."

Phoebe was just about to object when her eyes darted over towards the road for a second and saw a person crossing the street.

"Kate- KATE-" she cried as the car drew closer to the person, "Pump the breaks someone is crossing!"

Kate squinted at the road, her head nodding a little shakily, "I don't see anyone-"

"STOP THE CAR KATE STOP THE CAR-"

Phoebe pushed herself over towards the drivers' side and slammed her foot onto the break.

The tires squealed on the road, twisting and turning as Kate drunkenly tried to hold the wheel still.

Which was about as beneficial as a duck doing taxes.

Phoebe yelped as she felt the car stop, a loud thud from the front following after.

Her eyes were shut closed, shaking as she still stood with her feet on the brake pedal.

"Holy shit." Kate murmured, her feet sliding off of the gas and staring ahead from the window.

Phoebe slowly opened her eyes, her breathing quickened as she quickly got out of the car from the shotgun's side and made her way towards the front.

Her eyes widened in horror, her hands reached up to clamp over her mouth as she rushed over to the body.

A young man laid before the car, his dark brown hair held down with a bit of blood and sweat.

He wore a grey shirt and a blue jacket, both of which were covered in some leaves and mud.

She knelt down towards him, freezing for a second as she wasn't sure on what to do, but then immediately checked his neck for a pulse.

"Is he breathing?"

Kate called as she got out of the car, looking over at Phoebe and the body.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"He's still alive!"

"What?" Kate asked, surprised by him not kicking the bucket due to getting hit by a car, "No way...props to him."

"We gotta take him to the hospital," Phoebe said hurriedly, "He needs an ambulance- call 911!"

"Yeah, you try explaining to the doctors that you hit some homeless guy with your car."

Phoebe glared at her, "It's not my car! It's yours! You drove!"

"I could've been drunk and you would've had to drive me home. Don't lie and say you can't smell the whiskey on me."

Phoebe was absolutely appalled.

"Why can't we just tell the truth for once?!" she demanded, their current situation making her more stressed than ever, "Damn it, Kate, he could be dying!"

"Okay, one," Kate responded, definitely much calmer than Phoebe, "You think that me driving drunk is gonna make this situation better for the cops? You really want your parents to find out after all this time ignoring them, you got arrested for attempted murder?"

Phoebe didn't answer, she didn't even look at Kate, she just continued to have her hand on his pulse as reassurance that he's okay.

"...Two," she continued, "He'll be fine. Let's just go back to our motel. We'll put him on ice, I'll call a guy, we let him rest so we can avoid this whole mess."

"And what if he doesn't get better?" Phoebe shot a glare at her friend, questioning her morals.

Kate shrugged, "I got a shovel in the back."

Her eyes grew big, "Jesus Christ, Kate!"

"He'll get better!" she said a little louder, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Fuck sake, just help me get him into the backseat."

#ocs #story #my story #oc #original characters #original character #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #tw: attempted murder

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