#the weeks I spent horrified to realize that the doors were unlocked all night....... simply unparalleled

[youllallriseintheink]

Allies in Ink Hell

So... @lonelyghostwriter and I came up with the idea of an AU where Henry reunites with a partner while in ink Hell and they’re both perfect toons. So I decided to write this. 

Also for the sake of this story I’m not doing shared consciousnesses. Instead, I’m going to go the route of certain ink creatures having certain strong instincts.

I hope it’s half as cute as I was trying to make it!

---

“He meant the world to me,” Grant said, probably not for the first time that day. His hands were shaking as he held the cup of tea in his hands.

Joey patted his back in a gesture of comfort. A mere few minutes ago, Grant had been knocking on his door, expecting to find… what? His former employer with a knife to his husband’s throat? He hadn’t known. All he knew was that two weeks ago, Henry had gone missing after he’d gone off to pay Joey Drew a visit, and the police hadn’t found the faintest trace of him. Of course, when that apartment door had opened to reveal an old, decrepit man in a wheelchair, Grant’s wall of denial had come crashing down. Henry was gone. And Joey, apparently changed by the years, had been kind enough to let him in, offer him a drink, and listen to him talk about Henry and the life they’d shared together. Joey, too, seemed shocked and horrified to hear of Henry’s death, but he said that his stories could wait.

“Thank you for listening. And I’m sorry you had to hear about Henry’s death from a perfect stranger. I just- I thought- but then I saw that you couldn’t have.”

“It’s fine,” Joey said, “Grief does that to people. I would know. Tell me, are you starting to feel light-headed?”

Grant nodded. Somehow, despite the strange question, he felt almost supernaturally calm, like an anesthetic was kicking in.

“That isn’t grief. And you were right about me. I made Henry a Boris and put him in a loop. Sent him to another dimension to try and give my story a happy ending. You know how a frail old man like me manages to kill someone as strong and healthy as he was?”

Grant’s eyes went wide for a single second of realization, then rolled back in his head. He collapsed unconscious on the table. “Poisoned tea.”

Sacrificing a person was an arduous task at Joey’s level of mobility, and he didn’t have forever before the poison wore off and the man woke up. Lacking the strength to move the body to a more convenient place, he was forced to draw a pentagram in the middle of his kitchen, navigating around table legs. He also drew a second pentagram to rid the area of the body, the bloodstains, and the pentagrams themselves. Thankfully, he’d remembered to bring his knife with him before getting out of his wheelchair and onto the floor, because getting back up again was a challenge. After slitting the man’s throat, though, it was just a matter of waiting for the machine to do its thing. Within an hour, an Edgar came out of the ink machine, unconscious, just as Henry had been. Joey put it into the sketch dimension and considered the crisis averted. It would have simply been too dangerous to have a suspicious person on the loose.

---

The first thing Grant could feel in the sketch dimension was an overpowering animal instinct to find... something. He wasn’t sure what, but the desire was desperate and overwhelming. Everything else could wait. Thankfully, being uh- whatever he was- also came with some perks- namely, sticky feet that allowed him to climb. As soon as he found the ink machine room, he was skittering down the chains until he came upon five creatures fighting. On one side, there was a monkey-looking creature and a creature that looked like a decapitated pirate with its head held by a fishing rod. They seemed incomplete somehow. The other side had the same two creatures, and also a spider-like creature. Grant knew, instantly, that that was how it was supposed to be. He screeched to the two butcher gangs, and as soon as they saw him, the fight broke up. The complete butcher gang left, and Grant jumped over to join the other two creatures.

Once he was alongside the other two creatures, the high of animal instinct subsided and everything about his situation hit Grant in the face at once. The cartoonish environment. His tiny, ridiculous body. The fact that Joey had killed both him and his husband, and that Henry was still out there somewhere. The butcher gang passed by a dead cartoon wolf strapped to a stretcher. Grant stopped to stare at it before the Charley pulled him along. Had that been Henry? Like there were multiple of whatever he was, were there multiple of those? And by extension, had that Boris been a person, too? Had the two creatures he was currently following? This world was so new and strange.

---

Sadly, for a long time, it seemed that there was no way to find Henry. By the standards of an ink creature, Grant was doing well- he and the other two butcher gang members had a home in Bendyland, a protector who took the form of a possessed amusement park ride, and clever leader in the form of their Barley. Even more lucky than all that, though, was the fact that his two companions had once been his old friends, Shawn and Lacie. At least, Grant thought that until he realized that that meant his friends and died and spent over a decade in this place.

Grant didn’t know when he first saw the Boris his husband had become. It had seemed like any Boris. The Boris had distracted him and his companions in order to switch a lever. It was back three days later, and then another three days after that, and after that, and so on. Each time, it went and damaged Bertrum afterwards, forcing Lacie to repair him. And this coincided with Alice speaking over the speakers. Grant couldn’t understand her anymore- English was lost on him, and apparently on his companions as well- but she had always sounded so threatening.

I put him in a loop...

The next time the Boris passed by, Grant refused to follow the sound of the can (not easy while his butcher gang instincts were telling him to). The Boris was unphased and threw a can at his head instead, forcing a squeak out of him. This wasn’t working. Grant ran into the little storeroom and pulled the lever for him. Henry smiled (even in wolf form, Grant could recognize that smile), patted him on the head like a pet, and left for his next objective.

No, Grant thought, That can’t be all I can do for him.

That night, he explained everything to Shawn and Lacie, and they planned for the next loop.

---

Henry was so accustomed to the loops by now that nothing about them phased him much anymore. After defeating Bertrum this time around, he’s walked into the haunted house as always, and as always, the cart had taken him to a part of Alice’s laboratory, where he was strapped down. He waited for her to finish sharpening her knives and begin the agonizing procedure that would make him strong enough to protect her from anything. After the procedure he’d turn on her, kill her, and eventually make it to the basement to kill Bendy and start the cycle over. Again. And again. And again.

On the other side of the room, chattering sounded. This was no surprise- butcher gang members often chattered for no apparent reason, and Alice had at least ten of them in cages or in gurneys. The noise picked up, as though they were all trying to be as loud as possible, and under it, Alice could hear the sound of a cage unlocking. She stood up to see seven members and counting who were roaming free and freeing others. She ran over and slashed at them with her knife, but it was no use. Two Charleys grabbed onto her arms and pulled her to the ground as three other butcher gang members crawled over her. Soon, they had pounded her into a puddle of ink.

Lacie took a good look at the ratios- they’d freed three full butcher gangs, who were now leaving peacefully. There were two Barleys and an Edgar left bound. They’d have to be freed later, and very carefully in order to avoid disputes.

Grant went over to Henry and undid the straps that were holding him on the gurney. Henry smiled. It must have been his little friend from the last loop! And it did have similar body language to it. Very familiar body language- not that Henry could quite place it. Once Henry was free, the little Edgar tried dragging him somewhere by the arm (though Henry eventually picked him up and let him point instead, so he wouldn’t have to be awkwardly bent over). The other two members followed. It took him back to the room with the switch. It was his little buddy.

Borises did not understand the language of butcher gang members. Only butcher gang members did. But Borises were expert at non-verbal communication, and soon he’d figured out that the Edgar wanted him to stay. Henry couldn’t- not for the long run, anyhow. He had a time loop to escape from and a life to get back to. But he may as well have had a home base to plan his next move. This was quite the unconventional loop after all.

From that point on, Henry stayed at least one night with the butcher gang with each loop, after they saved him. Often the little Edgar would crawl in with him, and Henry would hold him against his chest like a teddy bear. He’d wondered if the Edgar was Grant at this point, but chose to deny it. There was no reason for Joey to have gone after him, and it was easier on his mind to believe that this was just an Edgar that shared Grant’s mannerisms. Henry missed Grant terribly, especially when he was with this Edgar who reminded Henry so much of him, but it was better to think that Grant was safe, rather than enduring this alongside him. He could have written out the question and asked the creature, but truthfully, a part of him didn’t want to know.

With each loop, the Edgar would follow him up to a certain point, then leave to be back with its gang. Instincts were powerful. After a few loops, the entire gang started following him. They helped him in combat until they were defeated, and the Barley knew the location of all sorts of hidden rooms.

The studio was Hell. But Henry was glad to have allies.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Henry Stein #grant cohen #grant x henry #edgar #boris the wolf #butcher gang #malice #my fanfiction

[hereliesanotherfic]

Three’s a Crowd || Erwin x Reader x Levi || Modern AU

Chapter 2 - Comfort in Comedy

You parked your good ol’ reliable highlander in your new, shared driveway for the 6th time this week and relaxed back into the cloth seats. It was hard to believe another week has come to an end, especially with how crazy it’s gotten for you. This previous Sunday, you had agreed to be Erwin and Levi’s new housemate, taking the third bedroom in their beautiful home. You felt a bit pitiful when you didn’t have many belongings to move in, but Levi commented it made it easier overall. Erwin took your clothes; Levi grabbed the couple boxes you had, and you were in your room in less than an hour. The rest of your night simply consisted of putting your belongings in the closet or drawers.

During the weeknights (since everybody went to work during the day), was the time you spent getting to know them better. Both work at a private detective company called the Survey Corps and have been partners for many years. Erwin is the commander of the sector and Levi is the captain. You knew almost nothing about this stuff, ignoring the fact you were new to their city. Levi explained how most of their days consist of paperwork at a desk in their ‘shitty office’ but the PD (Police Department) would give them a case here and there where they have to go to the scene or hunt somebody down. They almost constantly have a case or multiple going and you understood now why their house is so nice and why they’re so built.

Your coffee shop work has grown steady too. Each day the drinks were easier to make, you flowed more smoothly between customer service and food preparation and you met the remaining coworkers. Historia was the heir to the coffee shop, and she seemed like the perfect fit to run it and Connie was a master at fast-paced drink mixing. He even went through some efforts to create little foam bear faces in their drinks. (He said he’d teach you later, you’re holding him to that!) Him and Eren oversaw baking the pastries too, which one day when you’re comfortable, Armin said they could consider training you on.

Out of nowhere, your driver’s door flung open like a jack-in-the-box, triggering you to jump a bit out of your seat and back up onto the center console. Levi stood in the open-door space with his usual half-lidded stare, in which you proceeded to slide off the console as he spoke to you.

“What are you doing passing out in your car again? You have a room,” he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. He was dressed in a simple black suit, white button up, no tie. Even on Friday’s these guys dressed for success. His hair seemed a tad messy compared to how he left the house this morning. But you noticed even during dinner, socializing time, and whatnot, he would run his fingers through his bangs a lot.

“I-I wasn’t passing out!” You protested, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. Levi, very obviously, didn’t believe you, waiting for a better answer. “I was just thinking about how the week went and work, that’s all…” your cheeks held a brief tint of pink, being caught dozing off was a bit embarrassing. Especially by someone strict and disciplined like Levi.

“Huh…so I guess you can wake up an hour earlier when you make coffee for us tomorrow.” Your cheeks puffed in pout at his snide remark. Smartass… “C’mon, if Erwin’s not home yet then we start making dinner tonight,” Levi stated while stepping aside to allow you room to exit the Highlander. He led you both in, unlocking the door and you both took your shoes off to leave them at the mat.  

You had changed out of your coffee smelling work clothes into some comfortable dark green joggers. By the time you had walked back to the kitchen, Levi had already started preparing. He had changed into a light grey, v-neck sweatshirt, and black sweatpants. On top of that he wore the pure-white kitchen apron that normally hung in the pantry. It was tied securely around his waist, tucking in the sweatshirt a bit and giving slightly more definition to his shoulder blades. Your eyes trailed it, following along his broad shoulders and the bit of skin exposed on the back of his neck. Just as you were admiring his sharp jawline again, he turned his head looking over at you. You immediately perked up in your stand and bee-lined over to him to help cook. He didn’t seem phased at your staring if he truly had caught you.

“Make sure to chop it finely,” Levi stated while chopped up the chicken breasts into clean strips, proceeding to place them in the sizzling frying pan of butter and olive oil. It was incredible how well these guys can cook, and the taste was remarkable!  Your next job after the parsley was mincing the garlic, Levi took care of cooking the food, which you didn’t mind. He started to mix all the ingredients together, one by one, and the smell of the food made you anxious for dinner.

“It smells amazing…” you hummed, looking over his arm to see the little bubbles of oil popping from under the chicken. Levi let out a satisfied ‘hmp’.

“Just don’t drool in our food. We’ll be eating shortly, brat,” he said, using his free hand to push you back down flat on your feet. You didn’t even realize you were on your tipy toes to stare at the dish. You looked up at his steel grey eyes that looked so tired.

“Why do you keep calling me brat?” you inquired.

“’Cause you are one still.”

“You’re only a couple years older than me,” you huffed. Levi turned his head to look at you, your (e/c) orbs locking with his steel ones.

“Maybe once you cook a full meal that doesn’t taste like the inside of a coffin, you’ll be less of a brat,” he stated, plain as day. His rude comment of your cooking was only dulled by you practically getting lost in his eyes. You broke eye contact and look away from him towards the open living room.

“I’ll get there, I just cook simpler meals,” you muttered. Levi watched you for a moment before a brief ‘ha’ escaped his lips and he looked back to flip the chicken strips. “Where did you learn how to cook so well?” You challenged.

“A friend of mine,” he said softly, his voice a bit quiet. You stared at him intensely and he felt it, glancing back at you before back to his cooking. You weren’t going to let up so easily. “When we first started living together, he did all the cooking, much better than I. I picked up his tricks and tips.”

“What’s his name? Maybe he could be my teacher too!”

“Farlan, and don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t live in this town, so he’s not around often.”

“Then you teach me, Captain Levi,” you grinned largely, leaning your elbows on the counter and hands holding up your head. Levi stared down at you for a moment, your smile was incredibly pure and beautiful. He reached a hand up and ruffled your hair briefly, muttering another ‘brat’, before reaching above you and grabbing a large serving plate. You smiled as you moved towards another cabinet to get the dinner plates. You knew you got Levi to teach you how to cook!

As you both were plating the hot meal, Erwin stepped in the door and his nostrils immediately caught whiff of the food. You popped your head around the corner to greet him.

“Erwin, just in time! Levi and I just finished making dinner, hurry to get changed before it gets cold!” You smiled, earning a smile from the blonde man himself.

“Of course, (y/n), I’ll join you both in a moment,” he chuckled and headed to change in his room. You set down three plates and all utensils, Levi scolding you for placing them in the wrong positions and having you correct your mistake. Erwin stepped to the dinning table’s head seat wearing a comfortable pair of dark wash jeans and pastel yellow t-shirt. You eyed how the hem of the t-shirt line ended at the mid-section of his arm muscles, giving a nice view when he naturally flexed, the t-shirt barely giving definition to his chest muscles too. You glanced back down at your dinner plate of pale chicken. Either they bought shirts that were a size too small, or their bulging muscles were too much for their clothes. (You didn’t entirely mind though.) The three of you proceeded to enjoy a well-made dinner, you while ignoring your curious thoughts.

“Erwinnnn!! Leviiiii!!!!” Came a shrilling voice from behind the front door, sending a wave of chills down your spine. It was unexpected right after finishing your meal, normally the nights were quiet chatter. Immediately, Levi groaned, elbow on the table and hand holding onto his forehead. The black tea in his cup was almost completely gone. Erwin smiled pathetically at the raven before standing up and heading to the door. Erwin’s plate was completely cleaned, his cup of black tea standing empty. The door opened to a hyper-active brunette with glasses, immediately running inside the door to the dining table, Erwin not too far in pursuit of her.

“Did you guys hear?!” She exclaimed, hands practically slamming on the table. “Deadly Devour almost had another kill!!” Your eyes looked at her with worry, not necessarily about the horrifying words she said, but the fact it looked like their cheeks were red from blushing and their happy exclaim about it. “The only reason the victim survived is thanks to a patrol cop on duty who called backup! He’s making his moves!!” The brunette panted, licking her dry lips from excitement. You face paled a bit, was this person okay???

“Hange, please settle down, you’ll worry (y/n),” Erwin pardoned, motioning to you and her eyes followed, softening a bit. Levi sighed.

“What’s the status of the victims?” he calmly moved the conversation along, wanting as much information as the crazy detective could give him.

“The woman and the first officer are in the hospital in critical condition, they’re doing everything they can, so we just have to wait.” She then stepped around your chair to the free one on your side, pulling it out and taking a seat besides you. She outstretched her hand a bit with a gentler smile gracing her face. This was a pretty side of her from the five minutes you’ve seen.

“My name’s Hange Zoe! I live a house over and I work as a detective with Erwin and Levi! I’m specifically in charge of experiments and research!” You took her hand to shake, a small smile lifting on your lips. Her hand was larger than your own and had a strong shake to it too. “You must be (y/n), the new roommate they were telling me about!” You nodded, a faded blush on the top of your skin. You never thought they would talk about you at work, you were just a roommate. “If ya ever need anything these guys can’t do, give me a call!” Hange seemed pretty sweet when she wasn’t yelling.

“Thanks Hange,” you said. Hange then turned back towards the table, taking a piece of the lemon chicken strip on a plate for herself. It impressed you how quickly she made herself at home.

“Well, unfortunately we can only investigate so much until we can get more information from the victims,” Erwin sighed as he sat back down, fingers interlocked with each other. “But if both victim and officer are in critical condition, it can go either way.”

“And the damn doctors won’t let us in to ask anything until they’re dead or surviving,” Levi grumbled, finishing his chilled tea. Hange nodded vigorously.

“All we can do for now, is investigate the scene of the crime. It’s been crossed off for now, but we only have tomorrow to scout the area,” she said calmly, taking a bite of the food after their words. You sat at this table completely miffed by what was being spoken about. You were they were all detectives for the private company, Scouts, but this sounded serious and it made you sweat a little inside. Erwin must’ve picked up on your nervousness.

“Don’t worry about it (y/n)” he assured, resting a hand on your shoulder giving a light rub. “He doesn’t attack just anyone, you’re new to town so you’re safe. And no matter what you have the three of us here too.” His words were so comforting, you nodded in appreciation. “Why don’t you go get some rest, the three of us have more to discuss and you don’t need to hear more.” There was a part of you that wanted to stay, as scared as you were, you wanted to hear it. But Erwin didn’t give you the option. His words, his body language, it all told you to leave the room. You stood from the table, reached to collect the empty dishes before Levi lightly swatted your hand away. Your eyes locked with his for a moment, the exact same language was silently being stated like it did from Erwin. You let your head fall slightly and made your way to your room. None of them spoke until they heard the click of your door.

“You boys could be a little nicer, ya know,” Hange said while chewing on some bites of chicken. Levi grimaced at her action, demanding she speak only after she swallows.

“She doesn’t need to concern herself with this information, it’s a bit much for a new girl in town to hear.” Erwin said softly.

“We’re getting too close to Deadly Devour anyways. If any of us become a target, that increases her chances of becoming one too,” Levi added. Both men agreed before you moved in that this was a case too dangerous to let you get close too. Hange agreed, but whined that they didn’t have to be so cold to such a hot young lady like yourself.

You laid on your bed in your room. You had taken a nice hot shower and dressed yourself in your comfortable pajamas and bathrobe. The light in your room was naturally dimming as the sunset set farther down the globe. It felt a little hard to be calm. Hange just barged in with this ‘Deadly Devour’ guy making moves, trying to kill people. How was he going about it? What was his next target or where? Were Erwin and Levi in real danger too? What about Hange? Erwin consoled that you wouldn’t be a target for such an event, but it’s still scary to think about. You rolled around on your sheets, flipping side to side before filling curling up in a ball, squeezing your blanket into your face. This town was wonderful so far…you don’t want anything to ruin this one. You weren’t sure when your brain finally took a pause and allowed you to pass out.

_____________________________________________________________

***I am a visual aid person so writing stories I either make a map or borrow one. This is to help any readers like me who do better with visual aids! :)

For reference, their house similar to this Only diff is all 3 bedroom sizes, bathrooms and closes are the same size on the left of the house and that extra space where the master bathroom is, is a larger study room. ***I do not own pic/design, simply using it as a layout reference. Credit goes to proper owners.

#attack on titan #erwin x reader #levi x reader #erwin smith #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #threes a crowd #shingeki no kyojin #aot #titans #reader insert #levi #erwin #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan modern au

[noxtms]

IN CHARACTER DATE : december 17th, 2020. SYNOPSIS : a visit paid to the dursley’s. TRIGGER WARNINGS : muggle attack.  

MR & MRS DURSLEY of number four, privet drive, were very proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. they were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they had never held with such nonsense.

mr dursley had once been the director of a firm called grunnings, which made drills. he had retired summer before last with a rather impressive send off, and now spent much of his time frequenting the local golf course. mrs dursley was thin and blonde and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in useful as she spent so much of her free time craning over garden fences and spying on her neighbours. their son, dudley, once believed to be the finest boy that one would find anywhere, no longer lived with them. he’s away with the army, mrs dursley would tell anyone who asked after him, her lips pinched tightly. serving queen and country. 

the dursleys did a rather good job at pretending they had everything that they wanted, but they also had several secrets, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover them. they didn’t think they could bear it. over two decades before, mr and mrs dursley had awoken to discover a baby boy left upon their doorstep. well, mrs dursley had shrieked and dropped the milk when she found him there - and this was the start of it, you see. the very start of all the trouble. harry potter ( that was this boys name ) was the son of mrs dursley’s sister, mrs potter. they hadn’t spoken for several years to this point, and they would never speak again, as mr and mrs potter had been killed, their son orphaned, left to the only living relatives he had left. they had never wanted their son to mix with a child like that : one as unnatural as harry potter. but they really hadn’t had much of a choice. 

they had tried, of course, to force the magic out of him. they wouldn’t have considered themselves very good muggles if they hadn’t. but it proved to be quite impossible, and over the years of raising their nephew, mr and mrs dursley had to put up with a great deal of unusual situations that led to a certain sort of relief when, finally, the boy came of age and left. they saw the period of time where they themselves had to go into hiding - leaving number four, privet drive - as the last in a long line of accommodations they had to make for the boy they had never wanted. they hadn’t expected this to end with his death, but there wasn’t very much that they could do about it. and this was their way of thinking : it was out of their hands, and so too, was the boy.

now, they had never expected for their son, dudley, to want to leave to his world - and they made it clear that if he did, he wasn’t welcome back. but dudley made his choice and the dursley’s made theirs, and six years ago, they returned to number four, privet drive. 

when mr and mrs dursley retired to their living room on the dull, dark wednesday night that our story picks up on, they really weren’t expecting any visitors. mrs dursley, clutching a china cup filled with tea, gossiped happily as mr dursley searched the couch cushions for the remote, flicking on sky news and allowing the dulcet tones of the news anchor replace the gritty voice of his wife. now, were they to have glanced out the window - mrs dursley’s favorite activity, most evenings - then they might have seen several figures appear quite suddenly and almost as if from nowhere, right in the middle of the street. 

it was just after seven when there came a knock at the door. it was very late for visitors - mrs dursley had already slipped on her nightgown, and told mr dursley in no uncertain terms that if it was one of his golf friends, they would have to talk on the front porch. he grumbled about how he wasn’t expecting anyone all the way to the front door, which he unlocked and pulled wide with no real hesitation. 

mr dursley froze. fear flooded him. it was followed, swiftly, by anger. there was no denying the group of individuals on his front door step were one of his lot - he had never been able to stand the funny get ups they wore, and even in the dim porchlight, the robes were unmistakable. the dursleys were of the opinion that they had washed their hands of the magical world when their nephew had died and their son had chosen to leave. in simplest terms, this was an invasion of their privacy. 

“you have no right to be here,” mr dursley said, rather sharply. they had never had to deal with this, before. the first couple months after they had returned, they worried about number four, privet drive becoming a hub for this... riff raff to come goggle at the home of the once boy who lived. word had finally & evidently gotten out, and mr dursley was simply not going to abide by it - his foot was coming down, and it would never happen again, not if he saw to it.

he went to close the door. it was stopped with a small thud, and at first, he thought that one of them must have used magic to stop it. when he opened the door a little to look, he found that one of the nearest individuals - a tall man who’s face was covered by shadow - had stuck his foot out. mr dursley opened his mouth to say something, but before he even could, the small group were on the move.

the flash of a wand - held out from beneath one long cloak - was enough to keep mr dursley ahead of them, moving through the corridor as they bundled their way inside and shut the door behind them. his heart hammered and his cheeks seemed to grow more red by the second, with him finding it rather difficult to find his voice, all of a sudden. this lot certainly knew how to be intimidating, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he scuttled along until he reached the door to the living room, and in a hurry, he pushed his way through it - closing it behind him for good measure and pushing in the little lock.

“petunia-” he began, moving away from the door and towards his wife. the note of alarm to his voice drew her gaze immediately, but she had no time to ask what was wrong and he had no time to explain before their living room door exploded inwards, leaving a mess of splintered wood, plaster and, when it slammed into the fireplace across from it, several ornaments and picture frames.

mrs dursley screamed and clambered to her feet, and her husband, who realized with a whimper just how close he had been to being caught in this explosion, rushed to her side. 

into the room poured the individuals from the hallway, one after the other. it was the man who had used his foot to stop mr dursley from closing the front door who had his wand out, now, and seemed to be the culprit, but he wasn’t the first to step inside. this honor fell to a woman with wildly curled hair knotted atop her head, a foot shorter than him, who everyone seemed to fall into step behind. the man remained close to her, always, but the others spread out around the room - blocking off all avenues for possible escape, even while mr and mrs dursley shrank into the corner of their sitting room, trying desperately to move away from them.

“l-l-leave-” mr dursley said. he meant to yell, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “leave this place at once-” 

“you have something that i need,” the woman announced, acting as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “give us the boys belongings and we’ll leave you be.” 

the boy. mr dursley had comforted himself many times over the past few years with the thought that they were done with all this carry on, now. the boy was gone. there was no reason for anyone to come near him and mrs dursley, especially as the man who had come to release them from their ‘safe house’ knew very well what he and petunia thought about his kind. he hadn’t been able to see how he and petunia could get mixed up in anything that might happen, again... hadn’t thought it could affect them... hadn’t realized how wrong he was.

“we don't- we haven't got- we-" he spluttered. 

"it's all gone," petunia said, from his side, her voice shaking. "everything we had is gone."

the woman looked towards his wife as if noticing her for the very first time, glint in her brown - bottomless, he thought - eyes. her expression didn't change in any way that he could see, but something shifted, and mr dursley felt rather as if he had been doused in ice cold water. she addressed petunia, now, "gone?" 

"inkwells and toad spawn and magic trick books-" mrs dursley's confidence did not grow, exactly, as much as an almost forgotten disdain resurfaced. just the thought of all the unnatural things they had lived with for so many years and disposed of double quick was enough to bring a certain venom back to her voice, the kind reserved for her nephew, "it's gone. burned. thrown away. it was useless to us." 

“i do hope that you’re lying.” the woman frowned. it was only the smallest change to her features, the slightest twist of her mouth, downwards - but mrs dursley shrunk back even moreso, now halfway behind her husband. “though i can’t say that it’ll go much better for you, if you are. i can’t stand liars.” 

petunia whimpered.

the other woman didn’t seem to notice and, with a sigh, shook off her cloak - draping it across the arm of the man still stood at her side. from a hidden pocket on her side she extracted a coal black wand. 

a breeze ruffled the neat hedges of privet drive, which lay tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect horrifying things to happen. the neighbours of number four slept peacefully, not knowing they were so near to such a story, not knowing that they would awake in a few hours time to the sound of sirens, nor that they would spend the next few weeks living in the middle of a media circus as news vans and reporters paid visit to the soon to be widowed husband of mrs petunia dursley.

they couldn’t know that, at that very moment, a woman was turning her wand onto another and then, with an air of casual impatience, saying : avada kedavra. 

#nox.important #nox.event009

[fangirlspammer]

Journey to the Past pt. 1

Hi readers! So after reading and falling in love with each one of @regal-roni and @jpncis09 fanfics I just had to dabble in it myself. I haven't decided where all of this is going yet, but I hope you enjoy what I have so far.

I also want to warn that the first part might be sensitive to some readers as it mentions rape and abuse. The whole story will not be like that

*

*

Jack cried out in fear as she was pushed against the brick wall. Her face slammed against it and she could feel her skin tear against the rough bumps. She tried to fight him off, but she couldn't. He held her hands behind her back as he began to undress her. She sobbed and pleaded with him not to do this, but he wasn't going to hear of it. He pulled her head back by her hair and slammed the side of her face against the brick again. She could taste blood and she began to feel weak. Suddenly she was being thrown against a dumpster, her face hitting the corner, before she landed on a pile of garbage bags. She looked up, her vision blurry, and saw the man's figure hovering over her. She placed her hands on his chest, a sorry attempt to push him away, but it didn't help. She felt him pushing her legs apart with his knee and ripping her underwear. She kept begging him to stop, but he wouldn't hear of it. Her only hope was that somebody would hear her cries, but her voice had weakend. A sharp cry escaped her bloodied lips as he pushed all of himself inside of her in one painful motion and began to rape her.

The rest of the night had been a blur. She was found the next morning by a woman who lived in the apartment complex the alley was behind. An officer came to the rescue and had taken her to the hospital, but she didn't remember much of that either. 'Is there someone we can call?' there had been no one. Her mother had kicked her out right out of high school, no thanks to her mother's abusive boyfriend. She had been living out of her old beat up '72 Chevy Vega station wagon, that she had bought with money from working in a diner throughout high school, for the past year. Parking near that alley way had been a mistake, but it was all she could manage at the time.

After an overnight stay in the hospital she had managed to get back to her car and find a new place to park. She drove around for weeks, from City to city, odd job after odd job. Nothing ever seemed to last. She had managed to afford a hotel room every once in awhile to shower and take care of business, but other than that she spent money on clothes and a blanket for the cold winter nights that began to pick up. As luck would have it one night she parked outside of an army recruiters office, and for the rest of that night she pondered her future and what she wanted to make of her life. She knew that she never wanted to feel as hopeless as she had a few weeks ago, again. She wanted to be able to stand up for herself and for others. She glanced in her review mirror, at herself, covered in stitches. That man had really done a number on her, but she was starting to heal after a month. What did she have to lose? There was nothing to hold her back. No family, no money, no job or lousy boyfriend. After all this time looking for an out and a way to avenge herself, maybe she was staring it in the face this whole time.

The next morning came and she didn't waste a single moment. She watched as a recruiter unlocked the door and flipped the sign to read 'OPEN'. She opened the car door and made her way inside until she was standing at the man's desk.

"I...I'd like to fill out an application," she stated nervously. Her brow wrinkled as she considered that maybe those weren't the right choice of words. "I mean I...I'd like to join the army," she corrected and bit her lip nervously only to be met with a sharp pain. Her stitches. She swallowed back her nerves and took a deep breath.

"Name?" The man asked and gestured towards the empty chair.

It took her a moment to realize that he was telling her to take a seat. "Sloane. I, uh, Jacqueline Sloane," she repeated. Get a grip, Jack, she thought. "I'm sorry, it's been a long month," she admitted quietly.

The man looked up and saw the cuts on her face. He nodded slowly and wrote something down. "Bar fight?" He asked, only half joking.

"No," she shook her head and rubbed her wrists nervously. Did she have to tell him? She couldn't even admit to herself what had happened, now she had to admit it to a stranger? "I, uh...it wasn't a fight. Not really," she whispered and looked to her shoes. "Look, I..I just want to join the army. I need to do something, and this...this would be good for me," she looked back to him. He started writing again. What was this? A shrinks office?

"I'll need you to take some basic tests."

"Tests?"

He nodded. "Drug tests," he answered simply, "and I'll need you to give us permission to run a thorough background check."

"Oh," she nodded, a bit relieved it wasn't a written test. Her state of mind was not prepared for that. "Of course, I have nothing to hide."

The man nodded and handed her some paperwork. "I'll need you to fill this out and we will review it. We will need to take some blood samples and run some tests. That along with the background check will take a few days to process. If all is clear then we will get you into training," he explained and watched the young woman fidget nervously. He furrowed his brow and watched as she ran her hand along the cuts on her face.

She stopped her movements when she caught the recruiter looking at her. She bit her lip and stopped fidgeting. "A-alright," she nodded and took the pen he offered. She began to look over the paperwork and filled it out before she stopped. "I, ehm... I don't have an address," she admitted. "My car," she gestured outside to the dusty station wagon in the front. "That's where I live."

"You can just skip that for now," he assured her and gave a warm smile. He had seen people like her come in here before, and he had a soft spot for people like that. Maybe it was because he had been in her shoes before.

"Thank you," she bit her lip nervously and went back to filling out the paperwork.

*

*

A few days had passed and Jack had taken to sleeping outside of the recruiters office. During the day she would go inside and he would give her some food and water. He had been kinder to her than anybody had been in a long time. Over the past few weeks the two of them had started to get close, but neither of them had done anything about it. He was her recruiter after all and she wasn't exactly comfortable jumping into anything after what she had been through almost 2 years ago. That morning she woke up and went into the office. She was then again greeted with a donut and a little carton of milk this time.

"Morning Jenson," she smiled tiredly as she accepted the donut. "Did the results come in yet?" She took a seat and watched him look through the papers on his desk. He was unusually quiet this morning and she wondered if she had been overstepping.

"They did," he finally answered and nodded shortly. He looked up to her, but he didn't look very enthused about whatever was in her files. "Jack, I'm afraid we can't recruit you at this time," he said simply.

Jack furrowed her brow and sat up a little straighter. "What? Why not?" She looked to him curiously and then became concerned that something was wrong with her. that would have been the only reason she could think of for them to turn her down.

"Well, because you're pregnant and you should know that we can't have you join the army and go into extensive training while you're with child," he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack's eyes widened at his words. "I...I'm not pregnant," she shook her head. "You must be mistaken."

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head and handed her the paperwork, but she didn't accept it.

"And I am telling you that you are mistaken," she insisted, becoming upset. "I am not pregnant. There's no way I-" she stopped and tears filled her eyes when she came to the horrible realization of what had happened. "No," she whispered and swallowed hard.

"Jack?" He raised a brow and couldn't help but be concerned. "You mean...you didn't know?"

She felt tears surface and she shook her head. She stood up and bit her lip. "I need to go."

"Go where?" He stood up and walked around the desk to her. "Jack, you don't have anywhere to be. Talk to me," he frowned and hesitantly took her hand.

As his hand brushed hers she took a deep breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked down. "I.." she wanted to tell him, she really did, but she didn't know how to voice it. How did you go about telling somebody that you had been raped? How did you tell the only person who had showed any interest in you, romantically or personally, that this horrifying act had happened to you? This wasn't easy for her. "I didn't know because...because it didn't happen by my choice," she admitted and looked down. She didnt know why, but she expected him to move away from her. He only gave her hand a squeeze and lifted her chin.

"Do you mean," he paused and watched her nod slowly. He sighed and brushed his thumb along her knuckles. "That explains the cut," he looked to the nearly healed stitches on her cheek and forehead. Her lip had finally healed, but she was still hurt.

"Please," she felt her lip quiver and wiped her eyes. "There has to be a way that you're wrong," she pleaded with him. "I can't be...pregnant," her voice cracked. "How am I supposed to raise a baby...i-in that?" She pointed to her beat up car and then put her head in her hands.

"Hey," he took her hand again and pulled her closer to him. He sighed and pushed her hair back. He couldn't deny that there had been something going on between the two of them. When she had first walked in a few weeks ago she had taken his breath away, despite the cuts. He was her recruiter and so he had tried to stay professional, but after a few days he couldn't fight it anymore. Something about her was so inticing. He pulled her petite frame to his chest and hugged her close. His hand stroked her hair gently and he sighed. "It's going to be alright. If you'd like...you can stay with me," he suggested, unsure how she would take it.

"Stay with you?" She looked up to him curiously and shook her head. "I couldn't put you out like that."

"You wouldn't be putting me out, Jack," he assured her and his eyes softened. "I'd like you to stay."

Jack searched his eyes for anything resembling pity or obligation, but she found nothing. He truly wanted her to stay. "Alright, but I don't want to put you out for long. As soon as I find somewhere else I'll be out of your hair," she promised.

*

*

"Jack?" Ducky broke her silence in the observation room. He nudged her gently, watching her stare at the man in the interrogation room.

"Huh?" Jack jumped a bit and looked to Ducky as she came out of her trance.

"I asked if you knew him," he repeated and raised a brow. "Which you obviously do."

Jack nodded slowly and looked back towards the glass. She sighed and decided it would be best if she explained herself now. She opened her mouth to explain, but before any words came out the door burst open and behind it stormed in a slightly baffled Gibbs.

"He's asking for you, Jack," he eyes her carefully.

"Me?" Jack's eyes widened and she took a step back. "Why me?"

Gibbs arched his brow and didn't move his gaze. "That's what I want to know. Do you know him?"

Jack looked at Gibbs like a deer caught in headlights before she glanced over to the one way mirror. She saw the boy she once knew and swallowed hard. She didn't realize how long she had gone without answering until Gibbs snapped at her slightly.

"Jack!"

"Jenson," she crossed her arms and looked back to him. "His name is William Oliver Jenson," she sighed and he backed off. "He was my recruiter when I first joined the Army," she explained further.

"Is that all?" He waited for a response and then backed down when he saw Ducky watching them. "He asked for you and so you are going to go in there and get what we need."

"Do you think that's wise?" Ducky questioned curiously.

"If we want answers," Gibbs grumbled, jealousy dripped off his tongue despite how hard he tried to hide it.

"If you want answers you shouldn't look to me," Jack shook her head and held her hand up in protest. He glared. "Gibbs, I'm serious. We didn't end on the best of terms."

"End?" He started to delve into that but retracted and sighed. "Jack whatever happened was a long time ago. You are the only person he will talk to so go in there and get some damn answers. I'm done asking nicely," he snapped now.

Jack rolled her eyes and yanked the folders from his hands before heading out the door. "That was nice?" She muttered before the door shut. She took a deep breath before opening the interrogation room door and walking in. This was not going to be easy.

#jack sloane #jethro gibbs #slibbs #ncis cbs #leroy jethro gibbs #maria bello #jacqueline sloane #ncis fandom #ncis

[hadestownmodern]

Paint

Hi! This fic contains sensitive content, please read the tws below before continuing. Thank you for reading and enjoying our content!!

-Danielle

             It’s the color of grass beneath her bare feet on a spring morning; the feeling of standing in the middle of rows of greenery and sipping in the scent of soil and rainwater. It’s the warmth that comes with a day of hard labor in the sun ending in fresh watermelon slices on a picnic. It’s comfort, in all its brightness, and Persephone stands frozen with the paint sample in her hand as the happy memories attempt to break her barrier.

             “Miss?” She fingers the cardstock-the world around her an oblivion of beeping and struggling, of people carrying on. “Miss, can I help you find anything?”

             “I want to buy some paint.” Her voice comes out flat-raspy, and sore. She hadn’t used it in days, she realizes, and it stings to form even the bare minimum of sentences. She hands the employee the sample, stands staring at the wall of color as it’s mixed. Everything seems wrong here; the casual talk of fitting a bathroom sink, where the lumber is kept…the paint is handed back to her with a weight that hangs heavy on her hands. With a subdued thanks, she carries the can home.

             Forgetting to hail a cab, Persephone walks. Time passes with no constraint, and her legs do the thinking as she makes her way back to their perfect brownstone-the place she’d been waiting to live her whole life. The neighborhood is filled with children; riding bikes, playing with chalk on the sidewalk. Their parents greet her with wide, expectant eyes until noticing the weight she’s carrying is simply just a can. Everything grows silent. Persephone’s world is muted.

             She throws herself into her work. Undressing for the first time in weeks, she winces as she keeps her eyes away from herself. It’s too soon to see what has happened to her, too soon to discover her own harsh reality. Instead, she covers back up with a pair of well-worn overalls. They’re grass-stained and dirty, and if she tries hard enough she can breathe in the scent of her mother; her mother, who called her every day. Her mother had set aside every difference on the never-ending list between herself and Hades to take care of her, until she’d pushed her away, too.

             She’d craved the isolation.

             Standing in the center of the nursery, Persephone openly weeps. She lays her head on the rocking chair, pictures her son in her arms and imagines what it would have been like to feel his hot, tiny breaths against her chest. The room is too pristine, to perfect; the gift she’d been given of the perfect house, the perfect nursery, all of the best things…it still hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t been enough.

             She screams; an agonizing sound, a trembling that had been held so tightly in her own body. She’d wept before-spent the days since the hospital in a horrifying flickering between crying and numbness, laid out in bed with the few things Hades could manage to help her keep down. She’d wept before; spent hours on the floor, against his chest, in the privacy of the shower praying to gods or fate or anybody that would listen for the only thing in her life she’d ever truly wanted.

             She’d come so close.

             In the blind, numb, exhausted rage she throws; she throws the monogrammed pillows, rips into the safest mattress in the world. She claws at the paintings on the wall, the sayings about something so worth the wait. She barely flinches as glass shatters on the floor around her, as she stumbles and slices the side of her foot.

             She sits.

             In the wake of her rage, there is nothing. Persephone can’t see the damage she’d done through the shaking of her body, the flood that wets her cheeks and soaks her shirtsleeves. Picking her way through the damage she uses the last of her strength to push the crib from the wall-too light, too barren. Then, she starts.

             Hades unlocks the door to find silence; not an unusual sound these days. He maneuvers carefully around their house, noting her shoes at the door, her keys on the kitchen counter. The sweats she’d been living the past few weeks in are lain out in front of an open door. He pauses. They hadn’t been anywhere near the room since they’d come home, since he’d tucked her into bed and held her as time passed senselessly around them, through them, and without him. Ducking his head into the crack of the door, his breath catches in his throat.

             Persephone stands with bare, bleeding feet, a rolling paintbrush in hand. Half of the wall is a startling Kelly green. Her narrow features are concentrated on the motion of it-up and down-dripping paint onto the hardwood flooring. There’s lines of that same green scattered on her arms, her face, and Hades startles as he notices her overalls. They’re work-worn, loved, and kept close.

             They remind me of my mama, she’d said one night. It’s nice to feel like her sometimes. Back then she carried the world on her shoulders and held herself up, raised me like it was no hardship.

             These overalls had seen her through every one of these tragedies.

             They hadn’t seen anything like this.

             Shrugging off his jacket, Hades throws it on the floor in the hallway. He cleans the glass from the floor, holds each destroyed relic of the future they were supposed to have before throwing it away. He cracks open the window. He pours two glasses of water. He wraps both his arms tight around his wife, fragile and numb, who leans herself heavily against him as he kisses her forehead, strokes her unruly curls.

Then, Hades stands beside his wife with a fresh paint roller in his hand.

Together, they paint.

#tw pregnancy loss #tw stillbirth #hadestownmodern #hadestown #persephone #hades #hades and persephone #danielle writes #and posts to the wrong blog for the thousandth time

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Six

       I pushed my hair back as I brushed my teeth, straightening my clothes and adjusting my name tag. I always hated my preparation routine for work. It might have only been a change of clothes plus tidying myself up, but it took up so much of my energy. It sounds pathetic to some, I know, but simply living drained me enough. I put my toothbrush back and ran my fingers through my hair as I hurried towards the front door. I picked up my drawstring bag and left into the hallway, locking the apartment up behind me.

               I had a shift at a small convenience store down the street. It was my least favourite of the three part time jobs I worked considering how loud and crammed it was. We got many young customers since the building sat so little ways away from a secondary school down the street, so I had to deal with a lot of inconsiderate preteens. Not to mention how easy it would be to get robbed so I'd spend hours stocking shelves in fear until my coworker came in for their shift and I'd go on break.

        As I walked into the staff room I took out a snack bar from my bag, as well as my phone. Looking at my notifications I blinked, confused.

       "Busy tonight?" It was Cassidy.

       As much as I hated rejecting her offers, I couldn't waste any more time partying that week. "Got a shift tonight, sorry"

       "Come on," I read alongside an irritated emoticon. "You're always working, lighten up."

       "I have rent to pay, Cass," I answered with a smile.

      "Isn't three jobs a little unnecessary though?" I rolled my eyes. Sure, three jobs was a lot to juggle, but I was part time and she had her own full time job. She wouldn't understand.

       "I'm not successful like you lol."

       "Tru." I slightly winced at her response. I knew I didn't have the right to considering I pulled that self-deprecating joke on myself upon my own free will, but I guess I wasn't expecting her to answer so bluntly. I stopped complaining and began typing.

       "I digress, I'm busy, sorry."

       "Suit yourself."

       I reminded myself that I felt bad for shutting her down. She was one of my only friends and she was trying to help me but time after time I kept refusing her offers. I guess I couldn't blame myself, I had jobs to fulfill, but she wasn't wrong. Was three jobs really too many?

       No, I convinced myself. I needed the money, she just didn't realize how important it was to me that I worked hard in order to achieve. It was understandable of her though, she didn't know my position. It was just her telling me to live a little, which was also understandable. Defending Cassidy inside my head through a mental argument made me feel a little better. Realizing how dramatic of the situation I turned it into, I shook my head, finishing my lunch break and heading back to work.

       Cassidy was usually busy with work on the weekdays, going out with her friends to have fun Friday night to Sunday morning, while I spent them keeping myself distracted in different ways with my shifts at the café.

       "I feel like you're always working," my boss chuckled before he entered the next room.

       I smiled as warmly as I could. "I've got nothing else going for me right now," I mumbled as I continued stocking the shelves.

       "I know you offered to take the closing shift but . . . why don't you take this one off?"

       I looked up at him. It was considerate of him to free me of my work, especially on a Friday night, but I took the shift for a reason.

       I enjoyed Cassidy's company, along with her friends', but deep down I knew my jobs were the only thing between us; and in a way, that was a good thing. If I wasn't free, how was I going to go out and drink with Cassidy and her friends? I figured I wasn't the one who had to oblige if my managers already booked me off; it was the only excuse I had that made me feel a little less guilty. I didn't want to hurt Cassidy's feelings or push her away by telling her I didn't want to hang out willingly, so this was my key to escape, even if it was just more work. At least it got more pay; I'd get out of that apartment and into my own dorm someday.

        Packing up my things, I waved goodbye to my co worker at the cash-register, heading out the door for a night all to myself. Cassidy usually left around 7:00 PM, which was when my shift ended, so I had no problem going home right away. I could slide in right after she left and she wouldn't know I was there. I smiled at my plan, relieved I could escape a night I'd regret in the morning.

       As I unlocked the front door, I sauntered inside, throwing my belongings onto the couch as I slid against the door, shutting it. I sighed, locking it behind me before I heard footsteps from the hallway.

       "(Y/N)?" I felt my heart drop. "I thought you were working late," Cassidy smirked, working her way towards me.

       "Oh . . . I'm . . . coming home for lunch."

       "Don't you have lunch there? I already texted you during your lunch break," she pointed out.

       I froze in my spot, my face painted red. I was never good at confrontation, a big reason I'd ran away from my problems all of my life. I wished that this could be one of those problems, buts it's not like I could just move out so impulsively. "Yeah . . . I meant my dinner break."

       "Oh . . . That's a shame," Cassidy pouted. She entered the livingroom, settling down on the couch. "I was really hoping you'd join us."

       "I'm sorry, Cassidy," I sighed.

       "It's fine . . ." she brushed off. "I gotta go call the girls now about our drive."

       "You made plans but you don't have a drive?" I questioned.

       "Well, I was hoping you'd be the one to drive since I thought you'd agree to come along, but . . ."

       At that point I felt guilty. She really wanted me to come, huh?

       What if I was being selfish? Cassidy wanting me to have "fun" wasn't really her peer pressuring me, was it? It was all coming from good intention; she didn't know why I was saying no and she didn't know I shouldn't have been drinking. But I did.

       Perhaps all I needed to do was learn some self-control. That way I could join their group, assist them as their helpful driver, and reassure myself I didn't need to be intoxicated to let loose. But was self-control really as easy as I was convincing myself?

       I looked over at Cassidy sitting on the couch, scrolling through the contacts on her phone before I opened my stupid mouth. "On second thought . . ."

~~~

       I struggled to keep my eyes open, rubbing them once more and looking up at the clock. I knew I shouldn't have come to that day's session but I figured, if it got me out of the house, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I forgot to consider the sunny weather however, burning up my eyes as I squinted my way through London on my way to the clinic. I shook my head, trying to keep focus as much as I could.

       I know my praying probably wasn't doing so good, but I wanted to convince myself if I hoped hard enough, people wouldn't be suspicious of my behaviour. I was definitely not feeling well, but was I doing a good job at hiding it? A sigh of relief escaped through my lips as the session came to an end and I carefully stood up, grabbing my bag. As everyone else moved on, I noticed Murdoc waiting for me by the door and I tilted my head in confusion. I glanced behind me as Phoebe was focused setting up for her next session and I turned back at Murdoc who smirked with crossed arms. I tried to smile at him but I knew it couldn't have looked right. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around my back, helping me walk forward. We left the building in silence and stood together outside as we watched the familiar faces of our group disappear. I wasn't sure why I didn't continue walking, but I'm not sure why I was expecting a hungover me to do anything correctly anyway.

       "And you decided to drink because . . . ?"

       I looked towards him, horrified. I figured it wouldn't be worth lying, so I dropped my face to a frown and sighed in defeat. "Is it that obvious?"

       "Not gonna lie, I'm impressed at how well you held it together in there. It wasn't even that obvious, but I know you." He slanted his head, still looking for an answer with a cocked brow.

       I shook my head, disappointed in myself, and I noticed his smirk beginning to fade. "It's nothing bad, Cassidy offered to bring me out with her friends again, so . . ."

       "Hmm . . ." It was quiet for a moment but Murdoc wasn't gonna let me get away with a sorrowful expression. "Don't be so down in the dumps about it, love," he said. I turned to him, frustrated. Why couldn't he just understand that being happy about your unhealthy habits isn't exactly healthy? He recognized my unpleasant response and laughed at me. "Seriously, (Y/N). I'm not telling you to give up on rehab, but you don't have to hate yourself for messing up-"

       "I know but I'd rather hate myself more so I'm more likely to never do it again, Murdoc," I retorted, instantly regretting it. I felt guilty for raising my voice, aside from the instant headache I received from it. I watched him blink in shock and he pursed his lips, awkwardly. He clearly wasn't expecting that from me and I wasn't either, darting my head back forward, trying to ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere I'd just created. "It's just . . . I-I don't know why I do this to myself . . . People tell me I shouldn't beat myself up but how can't I when I let myself be in that position over and over again . . . ?"

       I heard his Cuban heels tap the pavement as he inched closer to me. I felt his smirk through his sympathetic sigh. He lightly nudged my shoulder, catching my attention. "I know how you feel . . . But maybe it's best you stay away from the kids who convince you to drink with them in the first place?"

       "What are you implying? It's not like I can avoid Cass, she lives two meters away from me." I closed my eyes in defeat for a few seconds, catching some conscious sleep. I could feel Murdoc watch and I looked towards him once more, desperate for him to help me solve my problem.

       "What I'm implying is . . . maybe spend a few hours with me. We could learn more about each other . . . Maybe even stay for supper if you really want. You don't have to, but life gets boring when you've got nobody to talk to." I knew this smooth-talking character was a confident man, he could make any women fall for him whenever he wanted. I didn't take Murdoc's offer as him flirting, not when he had so many better options around us, but why did he seem to hold back so much? I could see a hint of apprehension in his eyes as we looked at each other, he couldn't hide that from me. I couldn't be special, though, there must've been plenty of other girls before me who saw exactly what I saw. I guess I was just excited to have somebody else other than Cassidy who seemed to want to get to know me.

       "You need me to come over because you can't talk to your roommates?" I questioned, barely believing it.

       "I could try, but it wouldn't be the same," Murdoc persisted. "Besides," he continued. "I've got a hangover cure I think you'll enjoy," he said.

       I wasn't sure what that meant, but I didn't hold my breath. He probably genuinely did want to help me feel better, this wasn't some sort of pick up like to get laid, and I wasn't ready to be alone again either.  His smirk remained as if it were his only means of defence when he presented any form of pure kindness to somebody. He certainly wasn't shy, but perhaps when he offered a nice gesture towards someone, he felt more vulnerable. I glanced at the ground and back up to him, "Why not?" He seemed to wear an authentic grin for once, starting for the parking lot. I wished he would've worn it more often, watching him look back at me and gesturing for me to follow him.

       With a smile on my face and pep in my step, I walked after him. He took out the keys from his pocket and alerted his drive; a red muscle car. It was in great condition on the outside but when Murdoc opened the door for me, it was trashed on the inside. I nervously grinned and sat myself down in the passenger's seat. When he closed my door and got in on the other side, he instantly picked up the piles of junk and clutter, tossing everything to the back seats. "Let's just move this," I heard him mumble. The front was soon cleared of the cigarettes, flasks, and other trash, but it still reeked of alcohol and smoke. "Sorry," he chuckled, but I just shook my head carelessly. As he started the car and revved the engine, I flinched, watching him turn the radio on and turning the volume down from its past obnoxious high. Listening to his metal, I turned my head out the window as we drove out of the parking lot.

       I heard Murdoc hum a little as the songs passed, making the drive a little more peaceful. I closed my eyes when he rolled down the windows, feeling the wind against my face cool me down from the warm Spring air. I took a deep breath in and opened my eyes as I exhaled, feeling Murdoc's eyes on me once again. I glanced back at him and he immediately looked back to the road, tapping his fingers to the beat of the aggressive rock that played.

       The wind in my hair was refreshing, and the speed we were going fuelled my adrenaline. Murdoc gave me such an addicting and adventurous craving. His company may have been new and different to my life but it was definitely something I needed. I thought of these facts over and over, comforting myself until we were getting closer and closer to the highway. "Murdoc?"

       "Hm?"

       "W-where do you live?"

       "Oh, not far at all," he claimed with confidence. "I just enjoy taking the longer route on the highway. It fuels my fire," he added with a growl.

       As soon as we entered the highway, Murdoc excited, swerving his car around the corner as we came closer to a haunted-esque home. It looked broken down and neglected, so I wasn't surprised when Murdoc's vehicle came to a screeching halt on the side of the gravel road. He took out his keys, swinging his door open; but before I could open mine, he was doing it for me. I simply smiled at his gentlemanly actions, crawling out and taking my bag with me. He secured his car and walked me to the front door, fumbling with his keys again to unlock it and push it open. "After you," he smiled.

       I quietly laughed, thanking him. "Wow," I whispered. It was definitely an oldie. The architecture wasn't very modern, as well as the wallpaper and overall building. I stood in awe, intrigued by the aura.

       "It's just us today," Murdoc said, closing the door behind us. "My ba-" he began before coughing. I turned to him, waiting for him to finish. "My roommates, I mean, go out and hang out when I go to therapy, like the fun roommates they are, so maybe you can meet them some other time," he concluded. He groaned at the thought of it, slouching as he tossed his house keys to the coat rack.

       "Oh," I nervously laughed, sympathetic towards his loneliness.

       "Whatever! Who needs 'em!" He headed up the stairs across from the entrance, looking back at me. "Coming?"

       I nodded and we walked up together, heading down the hall. "My room isn't any better than my car, but it's hopefully tolerable," he admitted, opening the creaky wooden door. I headed inside before him, looking around. It was certainly messy, but I could see more of an organized chaos rather than clutter. His room was almost exactly how I expected it to be; leather this and leather that, dark-coloured everything - the typical Murdoc Niccals aesthetic. I smiled at how perfect it felt and even noticed his bass guitar in the corner of the room.

       "You play?" I asked, pointing to the instrument leaning against the wall.

       "Hm?" he questioned, looking in my direction. "Oh, yeah! Self taught from when I was just a lad," he explained, walking forward. He picked up the guitar and sat on his bed, beginning to strum. I joined him and he winced at the awfully out of tune strings. "She's an angel when she's tuned," he said, tuning it himself.

       Finally, he began to play, and I couldn't believe my ears. He was incredible. His hands worked so gently against the strings it was almost as if some professional came down from Heaven and worked their magic themself. "You're amazing," I said. Murdoc responded with a smile, continuing to use his talent. He made it look so easy, he worked so effortlessly. "How long have you been playing?"

       "I began performing when I was just a kid, but really started playing instruments when I was ten, maybe? My uncle would come over and bring his bass with him - he played in his own little band - and eventually I found enough courage to steal one for myself and practice whenever I could," he rambled. Did he really? I wondered if he still kept that stolen bass as some sort of sentimental piece.

       Looking at his present bass I studied its style, unable to find any clues as to what brand it could've been. It definitely looked like a rare type of guitar and I found myself thinking about it hard. "Where did you get this one?"

       "I'm contemplating whether you'd believe me or not," he said, pausing the music to converse more.

       I shook my head, "Why wouldn't I?"

       Murdoc grinned mysteriously. He must've been trying to tell me to prepare for his storytime but I was already prepared to trust him when my gut told me so from the beginning. He chuckled and shuffled in his seat, beginning to play again. "Back when I was a teenager, Devil-worshipping became one of my favourite pastimes, y'know? Eventually, I started making packs, and as a trade he gave me this beauty," he said, lifting the guitar from his lap a few seconds.

       I wasn't a very religious person. I lost my faith a long time ago, and for valid reasons, but something in the back of my head believed in him. I nodded, "What did you trade him?"

       Murdoc nervously laughed, "I-I dont really remember, something about music." He got up and put his bass away on its stand before looking back at me from where he stood.

       "Have you ever thought of playing professionally?" I asked. He walked forward, towering over me.

       "Definitely. I'm not gonna lie, I've even written a few songs before, but I just . . . I don't know, I just never got around to searching for fame."

       "You've written songs before?" I asked, beaming with excitement. "May I hear?"

       Murdoc smiled at me and headed towards his writing desk, pulling out one of the drawers. In his hands he held a folder just flooding with paper, and a few fell out. He ignored them, placing the folder on the bed. "There's another one somewhere," he mumbled.

       "There's another one? I thought you said you only wrote some," I said, opening the folder.

       "Well, I wasn't expecting you to ask," he answered.

       I looked through the pieces of chicken-scratch, listening to the tunes of the sheet music in my head and reading the lyrics. I learned how to read sheet music back in high school when I took a class, and for some reason I couldn't forget how. "Murdoc . . . you're a wonderful writer, how could you hide this stuff away?"

       Murdoc shrugged, sitting on the bed beside me. "I didn't think the world wanted to hear my sappy lyrics, either."

       "Yeah . . . Not that it's anything bad, but I wasn't expecting something so soft to come from somebody who . . ." I looked back at him as waiting for me to tell who I saw him as. "Somebody who . . . seems hardcore and listens to metal."

       Murdoc chuckled, leaning closer to my ear as I proceeded to dig deeper in his work. He watched over my shoulder, "The audience needs a bit of a surprise once in a while, it brings something worth playing and someone worth playing for."

       I smiled and placed the paper down, remembering the songs in my head and what their words could mean. "What was this one inspired by?" I asked, pointing to one of the sheets. The title of the song was 'Broken' and I was instantly intrigued when I read the first line.

       "Ahh . . ." he answered. "I met this girl once and . . . to say the least, it didn't go as planned."

       I winced, glancing back at him and his pursed lips. "What happened?"

       "I'd rather not say," he spoke dramatically. "It pains me just to think about it," he continued in theatrical emotion.

       I laughed in response, "Well, I wouldn't want to put you through any bad memories . . ." It went a little quiet, the only things we did was look at each other. "What are your songs usually inspired by?"

       "Oh-h-h, life events, stories I think of, dreams, and even nightmares . . . nightmarish memories. Not very happy stuff in all honesty."

       "Well, where does all the happy stuff go when you don't write songs about them, too?"

       "It was never there in the first place," he mumbled, turning away from me. I watched his grin slip away, distracting himself with whatever was outside the bedroom window.

       Hearing him say that nearly shattered my heart. It was so unexpected, I was trying to find the right thing to respond with. "What do you mean it was never there?"

       "Let's just say life sometimes isn't the easiest to get through . . . and let's just leave it at that," he answered. "Okay?" he concluded, looking back at me.

       All I could do was stare. I knew his bad habits had to have come from somewhere but I hoped it wouldn't be something intentional. I thought he just enjoyed his beverage more and more as the years went by, but it sounded like it was purposefully an escape; similar to my relationship with alcohol. "Murdoc . . . I'm sorry."

       "It's not your fault, (Y/N). Besides, I still live on," he replied with more enthusiasm this time.

       "I know, but it definitely doesn't seem like you're living on, more just getting through the days . . . Of course, there are days where it's okay to simply make it past and focus on tomorrow but it shouldn't be like that all the time."

       Murdoc stopped responding and looked down at his lap instead. All I could do was watch and hope he wouldn't leave me in the dark, pushing me away. "I know, but I'm getting by. That's all that matters, right?"

       "But you also need to make sure you're getting by as best as you can," I encouraged. "I know it's easier said than done, but making sure you're actually living and not just surviving is important too."

       Murdoc looked back at me and smirked, "You don't have to get mushy with me, (Y/N). I've heard this a lot."

       "I know, but I want you to know that if you need somebody to talk to I'm here."

       Murdoc's face twisted into confusion. It was as if nobody pushed the way I did, and it honestly hurt me thinking that this could possibly be the first time he's heard something like this in a long time. "Thanks," he said. "I mean it . . . And you can always talk to me as well."

       "Thanks, Muds."

       All Murdoc did was nod and stand up, starting for the door. "Now, about that hangover cure . . ."

#gorillaz #2-d #Stuart Pot #murdoc niccals #noodle #Russel Hobbs #Damon Albarn #Jamie Hewlett #fanfiction #romance #murdoc x reader #x reader

[lovelybutodd]

Group/Member: Bigbang/ GD( Jiyong)

I remember the day I met Jiyong like it was yesterday. It was at my former boyfriend’s work party. I, quite honestly, didn’t want to go, but James really wanted me to. When I first saw Jiyong, he was associating himself with a group of people near the balcony doors of the hotel James worked at. We’d made eye contact briefly before he started to make his way towards me. Before he fully reached me, James returned with two champagne glasses, one for the both of us. He turned to see Jiyong walking towards us and bowed in respect, so I went along with him, not knowing who he was at the time.

“Good evening James! Are you enjoying the party?”, Jiyong asked, eyes never leaving me.

“Yes, sir! It’s very entertaining!”, James stated, trying to stay on Jiyong’s good side.

“That’s very good to hear. And, who is this?”, Jiyong asked, finally tearing his gaze from me to look to James for a response.

“Oh, yes! This is my girlfriend, (y/n)”, James stated proudly.

Jiyong looked surprised at first, then asked, “Girlfriend? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend”.

“We’ve only been together for a month”, James said, a slight glance my way.

Jiyong turned back to me, “Nice to meet you, (y/n). I’m Jiyong, the owner of this hotel”.

“Pleased to meet you, as well”, I smiled back.

After that, we’d seen each other at a few company events, but the last time I saw him was in public, about four months after our initial first meeting. It was after James had broken up with me, claiming that I wasn’t right for him. But the bimbo he slept with that night was? The same bimbo he lays his next to every night. The one that talks to multiple guys, I know because she was caught hitting on my brother, you know, before she knew he was my brother. Her name is Kim.

I saw Jiyong in coffee shop near my house. He was sitting in favorite seat, the one at the end in front of the window that overlooks the park across the street. I waited in line for my latte when I turned to see he noticed me. I bowed slightly with a smile. When I was handed my latte, I turned around to see that Jiyong was motioning me to sit with him.

I walked over to the booth and bowed a second time. He greeted first, “Hello, (y/n)! Nice to see you again”. I sat down.

“Nice seeing you again, too!”, I stated simply.

“I’ve noticed that James hasn’t been bringing you to any company events lately, are you not together?”, Jiyong asked, curious.

“Actually, we’re not”, I said a little sad at the memories we shared. It was only a short amount of time spent together, but it still happened.

I couldn’t help but notice the slight smile creep onto his face as he simply said, “ah”.

We chatted for a bit, and once I finished my latte, I was about to leave, but he insisted I stay. He bought me another and we continued to talk. About anything really. We laughed and had an amazing time. I left with a new contact in my phone and not a single depressing thought in my mind.

After a month of dates, we officially a couple. And it just better from there, for about a year. I’d moved into his penthouse and we’d even had shared custody of a puppy we named Jimin [surprise guest star <3]. Everything seemed to be going fine, until he became buried in work. He’d come home late and leave early. Sometimes I’d only see him once maybe twice a week.

That’s when the fantasy world we’d created came crashing down. We’d had argument one night about something I don’t remember. He stormed off and after an hour or so, I went to look for him. Only to find him sucking the life out of some girl at a bar.

And that’s where I am now. Watching, horrified, through the bar window. After finally coming to my senses, I walked back to the penthouse. I packed a suitcase for me, and a small bag for Jimin (yes, I’m taking him with. The only man in my life, besides family, who doesn’t seem to want to hurt me). I took some money I’d saved up from my job and just left.

I was going to stay with my brother, but that’d be one of the first places Jiyong would look. So, for now, I’ll be staying at a hotel. His hotel, under a fake name (which I can do since I’m paying in cash), because he’d never think to find me there.

When I got to my room is when it all finally hit me. I started crying, silently so I wouldn’t wake people, and Jimin came to cuddle next to me. “Why, Jimin? Why do the people I fall in love with always hurt me? *sob* At least I have you”, then I was asleep.

I woke up the next morning with more texts and calls at once than I’d ever had before. I read every single message and listened to every single voicemail, which is why, when Jiyong called again, I answered.

“(Y/n)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Please listen to me, I would never do that to you. Whatever you saw-”

“Wasn’t real? It wasn’t you? Whatever you’re about to say, Jiyong, I won’t believe you. And I won’t come crawling back because you like to bribe me with shiny things. Soft things, cute things. You can’t win me back so easily.”, I said holding back my tears.

“I wasn’t going to say any of that. I’m not gonna try to lie and say it wasn’t me. It was, and when I saw your back running away from the bar, I knew I’d messed up. I immediately went out and bought you flowers, but when I came back, you were already gone. It broke my heart to know what I did to you, and how easily I compare to James. I’m not going to bribe you back like I usually do. A lavish life isn’t worth anything if you’re not happy. So, if you choose to come back, I want it to be because you love me as much as I love you. And I hope you can forgive me for hurting you and trust that I will never do it again.”, Jiyoung poured out.

I don’t know what to say. I need to think. I hang up the phone and go to the couch with Jimin. “What should I do, Jimin?”, I ask knowing I won’t get a response.

After thinking for a good amount of time (meaning it was morning when I ended the call and now it’s 8pm) I realized what I wanted.

I unlocked the door to the penthouse, and everything seemed the way it was when I left. I walked into the bedroom to find Jiyong crying. When he saw me he stood up right away. I’ve never seen him cry before.

“(Y/n), you’re back!”, he said, coming to hug me. I knew he genuine with his actions, so slowly, but surely, I wrap my arms around him.

After this, I hope this is the last time this will ever happen. It hurts like a *bleep* and stings like a *bleep*.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I debated on whether they would end up together or not, so if you don’t want them to and want a sad ending, use your imagination

XOXO~ KPOM

#jiyong #jiyong fanfic #Jiyong fluff #bigbang #this might be crappy #gd imagine #gdragon #imaginekpop