#you look like fools who really dont believe this shit but are desperate to

[simpletale-officiale]

*Grotto pulls up in the Multiverse bar, cigarette on its teeth as it tries to seem like a beefy delinquent punk who smokes*

*It makes its way over to 404 and rolls to seduce him for information.*

"So--"

*cough, hack, wheeze*

"--I haven't seen you he--"

*It chokes on the cigarette smoke some more.*

*It casually holds the cancer stick between its fingers instead as to not look even more like a fool.*

"You seem like you're here a lot, pretty boy. You wouldn't happen to know somebody named Mr. Sin, would you...?"

*I immediately start blushing and feeling butterflies inside my stomach. Much akin to rolling a natural 1, I completely ignore how desperately you are attempting to seduce me and assume you're genuinely into me due to you looking directly into my face rather than my blue screen and you being the first person in years to be directly interacting with me.*

well u-P-P-PRETTY?! =0_0=

I-I-i... th-th-thank you...? >√>

*Despite of me wanting to believe this as an act of love, my consciousness denies me of fully acknowledging this as I have extremely horrific trust issues after being dumped by Error and do not want to appear weird if this was just an average homie activity.*

*Before you can even finish your sentence I immediately start traumadumping as I assume you want to know more about my extremely real and important lore.*

OH YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE ALTERNATE TIMELINE THAT THE ALTERNATE ME IS FROM?!

OOOOHHHHH MY GOOOOODDDD IVE BEEN WAITING TO JUST GEEK OUT ABOUT IT!!!

so theres this alternative version of me which claims to have been made for anarchy and that I was programmed in some type of way to like get these 2 timelines togheter or something but whats important is that everyone in this world is like based off people from this world and like way cooler and hotter in every way but he claims to be close to this guy called Cross who is "the chosen" or some shit but whats weird is that there is nobody called cross sans in this world and he seems to only exist in that world which completely goes against the fact everyone is based off something unle-

*I finally register what you were actually saying.*

What.

I do not know of this "sin" you speak of or why you think I'd know anything about that but all we know is that the moon is weird i dont want to hear any of your crazy theories about it and honestly my trust for you has horribly declined after this never talk to me again you fucking loser

*Read my consciousness.*

we had to do some.... experimental surgery on frosty after their incident in the fryer.

they call themselves "darth frosty" now? weird. they really want revenge at grotto. seems they suceeeded!

#cw link has to do with self-harm #simpletale #simpleverse #error 404 #404 sans #404 IF HE WAS GOOD #complextale #simple pre-scratch #OUR complextale. not anyones else #darth vader #russ art

[kurocatsstuff]

11:24 ★ : what’s the point in this life?

genre : fluff, angst (?)

note : scaramouche x reader > ^ < ,, haven’t worked on a fanfic in like.. three months 😨 story taking place a few years after Scaramouche joined the Fatui :3 (please reblog, it would help)

You took pleasure in seeing people laugh or genuinely being happy and enjoying life and the phenomenon called love. You worked as a clown on the outskirts of Inazuma, a nation known for horrible storms and lightning.

You, yourself took in the common fears of little children and personality. Which made you perfect for the “kids” side of the striped tent in which you worked in. When a storm struck you would gasp or yelp in unison with the kids and wait as they huddled up close to your, looking at you as the “bigger kid” or the “adult” in the situation.

Your fears and personality were relatable with little kids which made you a big hit once you had joined the show as a clown, yet you’d like to consider yourself a jester since you referred to the kids as royalty.

Months gone by as you worked there, you were envious of the kids playing as your childhood was deprived of love and decency.. but we’ll get into your past later..

—

The puppet sighed irritated by the Doctor’s words, the thought was ridiculous. Visiting some distant circus to people laughing and kids pushing and shoving, if someone were ever to shove him aside like he was nothing, whether on accident or not. He would immediately kill everyone there.

“I have better things to do than see some dimwits waste their time making kids laugh only to get decent pay. I’d almost feel sorry if I didn’t have better things to do.” The puppet scowls, his eyebrows furrowing. Scaramouche glanced at Dottore with annoyance, turning his head back to the paper works he was originally working on.

The Doctor chuckled before chucking one circus ticket his way, after he so he clapped his hands together, rubbing it against each other wiping the non-existent dust off his gloves. “I think you’ll enjoy the pity show, it’ll be amusing watching someone desperate to make a fool out of themselves.”

In response the Harbinger working with a pen retorts irritated. “I don’t have the time for this type of thing! It’s irrelevant to me, I don’t like crowds anyway either. Why would you think I would go to that shit place willingly?!” He slams his pen to the desk, grabbing the ticket ready to rip it—yet he stopped for a second. “Why do you even have this in the first place?” He stared agitated yet confused at the blue haired man, of course it isn’t of many surprise that the man would try to pull off something like this.

“What happens if I were to tell you that one of the surviving residents of Tatarasuna were to work there?” The man grinned at the seated Harbingers reaction.. with eyes widened he looked down at the ticket then at Dottore with disbelief. “You really expect me to believe that?!” He snapped, bad memories being dug up from the depths of his mind and it being rubbed in his fair face. “Ah, yes. I’m sure of this, a reminder of the past still lingers alive.”

His past was supposed to be burned in ashes all of it.. oh well, it’s only one mortal. Not worth death. “..who cares.. how do you know this?” Scaramouche eyed Dottore suspiciously. “That’s a secret for now..”

—✦ 12:35

notes: BITCH I DONT WANNA CONTINUE THIS SHIT😭😭😭😨😨🙏🙏🙏😔😔 I wanna go to sleep now, also putting a poll for voting, this considered part 1 ig … 😭💀 GO FAMOUS MY CUTE LITTLE WORDS

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #genshin impact fatui #genshin angst #clowns

[stemmmm]

episode 3 post! missed the title card if there was one

ep1 ep2

who the fuck is this

ohhhh baby beato momence? very funny to be like oh please teach me to be a witch so i can become so powerful that i can undo even death! *kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people**kills people*

ah. and battler gets to be a fine pulp on the floor, lovely. she treats him so well.

battler voice: "at least im being mutilated beyond any human recognition by BEAUTIFUL WOMEN"

alright, looks like this episode is going to be sexism-o-clock featuring eva? assuming she'll be the last adult alive? seems we're doing all the women, makes you wonder if any of the men will get backstory treatment at all. i dont mind if they don't, they're all pretty nothing to me.

ah the way patriarchy wears women down to the point where they can only see it fit to squeeze themselves into their restraints, rebellion becomes desperation to be accepted and approved of. and then to further themselves they tear down every other woman they see to uphold the awful system. eva you fool. believe in magic. tear the family standards to shreds under your own power

the theory of n+1 characters in umineko is coming into play. who is this man

this is the first time in my memory that some weird magic shit has happened while battler (on the island) wasnt present but was still drawn to the attention of battler (in the golden land). it has been something id been wondering about, if he's able to be aware of shit his in-game self isnt present for. and now this new stranger has announced he's going to construct the perfect romantic scenario in which he can have the honor of shaking battler's hand

HEY I WAS JOKING

oh cool so it is the case that in each loop she's getting stronger and that's why more people are showing up! i was right about that!

i wonder if eva's ruthlessness over wanting to be the head of the family means that the quest to find the gold will ACTUALLY be acknowledged for once! it still seems a bit early to gain the tools to fight back but i would like... a hint at least. because personally i've got nothing. to me it doesn't even look like a riddle exists past just. very explicit instructions for a ritual which would not get anyone any gold.

oh they mentioned granddad's will which reminds me. what the fuck did he have shannon transcribe in the last part? i figured we were gonna be told eventually so i dont think i even remarked on it but nothing happened with it

ohhhhh we are discussing the forest now and the possibility of a hidden mansion out there. please please please take me to the woods. whats in the woods. i want to be in the woods

ah fun, making it sound like the gold is a trade for the title, twisting the situation around into an issue of which do you value more: your money and lifestyle, or a silly, meaningless title? do you want to sate your greed or do you need to lord it over everyone else in some kind of power play? but they dont really get that what shes saying is that shes going to crazy murder all of you. and how could they. interesting to see who lands on which end though. everyone says they'll just take the money but i feel krauss and especially eva can't be so satisfied with that.

#m.txt #umineko liveblog

[enneamage]

so idfk critblr ask etiquette because i dont go here also i was supposed to have left the fandom a year ago but what can you do, right. i'll just throw my shit at you like a monkey and hope something sticks???

my interest is billzo, esp how endlessly trauma informed all of his actions are, ever. I watched his recent video about his expirience with disassociation and content creation and all that. Have you watched that? Do you have opinions? I have opinions. I am not gonna type them all out because rambling that much in a random ask would probably be rude (?). But still, anything on Billzo would be neat my brain is in overdrive figuring him out.

One thing i find interesting about him is how much and how well he lies. Like he does it for fun all the time, to the point where i almost want to pathologize it (mans having a bit too much fun with it ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ). Also normally i am very good at telling when people are lying but he catches me off guard regularly... And im kinda of stuck between putting the lying into his trauma informed actions or just calling him a Pathological Liar (which seems harsh). Also VERY possible some of the stories other anons said he has told on stream are bs, just saying.

Another thing is this (trauma response?) he does where he wants to say something, believes it would be offensive to his fans or people around him. Then, he does this weird thing where he gets pissed at shutting himself up, gets defensive over something he hasn't even said yet, decides offense is the best defense, and usually it comes as the original thing that he wanted to say, but defensively and rude-ish. He does it multiple times in the misfits "do all streamers think the same" video, if anyone is interested. Its SUCH a weird behaviour and i want to dissect his brain like a frog (Joke). I dont know a lot about that number wizardry you do, but yeah anything is aprechiated at this point (i am desperate)

physically have to stop my rambling here or i will look even more insane. Goodbye

Hello and goodbye anon we love the transparency.  

He seemed fairly normal in the video you mentioned, but I do broadly get what you mean by playing the defensive-offensive; the way that Bill’s people-pleaser traits can get run through an aggressive filter is fascinating. It’s hard to be edgy while also staying on peoples good sides, but he’s compelled to do both, and it seems to make him act strange sometimes. I’ve seen behavior like that a few times before, it’s like witnessing a negotiation where one person is really pushing for their side, with repressed anxiety feeding the pseudo-agression. I would put it somewhere between angling for his input to be given a chance (helper streak comes out strange for him sometimes) and unconscious worry around rejection. The video mostly seemed like him being mindful of not pissing off The Mob, though, which is a skill that most public figures need to master in some way.

Technically lying due to trauma could fall under the “Pathological liar” umbrella because it would have that deep psych component, but I haven’t seen enough to make that call. (Edit: I got cold feet on this line since sources were mixed, it's just not something that people get diagnosed with outside a bigger condition so it's an umbrella term.) I also haven’t seen enough / caught on to enough of these moments to spot if there’s a pattern in what he says and when he says it, but that’s something to keep an eye out for. Is there generally an effect/emotion that he’s looking to create, or is it the simple fun of fooling people? Who does he lie to the most? He might just be a trickster, but these things are sometimes layered. (Things I would keep a special eye out for is lying to make others more sympathetic to him, that can sometimes be a form of asking for help without having to ask or risking rejection in unhealthy Twos.)

The dissociation is interesting because on one hand Bill suffered with it uniquely in the way that it affected him, but it could be both his psyche and the situation together. It wouldn’t surprise me if more cases of people blowing up quick going forward had that feeling of unreality, where the sudden lack of adjustment period knocks people off balance and they don’t have the time to steady themselves again. It’s common to hear “It was an out of body experience, it didn’t feel real” in kind of a passing way when people talk about big changes, but if you think about it those are dissociative concepts, people not integrating the new reality fully. If he was already predisposed to dissociation, it might have thrown gas on the fire for him.

I feel like I come off as harsh on Bill because of the ways he usually comes up in conversation, but I think a lot of people share the sentiment of not only liking him but wanting to like him. I'm hoping that he'll be able to get his feet underneath him in the new year because I do want him to do well.

#gen blzo tag #blzo 2w3 #also the numbers aren't actual magic I promise #they're just weirdly good #…and have an obscure historical origin that goes way back I need to look into it someday

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck. 

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless​ @northernpunk​ @pascalesque​ @sleep-tight1​ @cheekygeek05​ @bii-aan-ckaa​ @letaliabane​ @starlightmornings​ @mouthymandalorianalso​ @supernaturalgirl​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @purplepascal042​ @asta-lily​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @missswriter​ @juletheghoul​ @pedro-pastel​ @agirllovespancakes​

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd​

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1​ @alliterative-albatross​ @absurdthirst​ @thoughtfulpandawasteland​ @wifeofdindjarin​ @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch​ @helloannbananalove​ @diogodxlot​ @pascalslittlebrat​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @pedritobalmando​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ @mamacitapascal​ @dobbyjen​ @callsigncatfish​ @feminist-violinist​ @jasmincita​ @pascalove​ @eury-dice3​ @gingaahhhh @athalien​

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 2)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge. 

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3. 

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki visits Mick to give him a very important task.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead​ @i-dont-like-rice​ @nikki-sexx​ @smokeandmirrorz​

Mick was supposed to not give a shit about Nikki. He and the stupid drummer had tormented him and his wife for months on ends, making the whole tour a living hell and he didn’t need to have even more things to worry about. So what if his bassist decided to get addicted to heroin? He was a fucking dumbass but it wasn’t his problem.  He would end up killing himself and it wasn’t like Mick could have done something, not when his whole body was torturing him.

The only problem was that he cared, deep down. He cared about the fucker and hearing the news that he was gone forever hit him.  He lost one of his friends and the band all together in a day, what would have happened? He hated to admit he was scared about the future, it was hard to imagine Motley Crue without Nikki.

He sighed, turning off yet another discussion about his death. They didn’t call him yet but something was telling him that they had to release a statement soon.  Doc was probably freaking out somewhere crying for all his millions of dollars lost.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man” A voice incredibly similar to Nikki said, making Mick jump up.

Nikki didn’t feel anything, one moment they were in the ambulance and the other they were on the beach.  He was confused for a moment before he remembered that Mick had a beach house, and stared at it for a bit. He didn’t know much about the guitarist, maybe almost nothing but he respected him so much.  He was one of the strongest dudes he had ever met.

The weirdest thing about all of this was probably how he was only able to feel certain things, no cravings or sand under his feet as he was walking, yet he would still feel guilt, fear, love, worry… it didn’t make sense but he wasn’t in the mood to question the universe’s rules.

People can’t see you until you decide to show yourself. You have to remember or otherwise they can’t hear or see you.

The voice still freaked him out, but at the same time he was grateful for it to be there… it made him feel less alone, which was great considering how he felt lonely for his entire life.

“You’re not alone Nikki, I’ll always be there with you, through highs and lows”

“God it sounds like a marriage vow, T-Bone”

“Well if I could I’d marry now…”

He shook his head, trying to get the memory out.  It wasn’t the time to be sentimental and risk fucking everything up, so he walked ( more like flew) through the front door and found Mick sitting on the couch.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man”. The bassist hoped that he was heard, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing.

Mick visibly jumped at hearing Nikki’s voice and quickly turned around to look at him.  From his widened eyes and confused expression, he knew he probably looked fucking transparent.

“Okay first of all why the hell are you here talking to me if you’re dead? Then why the fuck can I see myself through you ?”

The black haired man just realized that he had no idea how to explain everything and be believed, he just went along with whatever the voice in his head was saying, but now it was different. He fumbled with his hand and realized he couldn’t feel them, while he tried to come up with the best way to explain to his friend how he was a ghost and why he was there.

“I died… I have no idea how I came back but I have unfinished business and I need to talk to you!”

The guitarist looked at him up and down, clearly skeptical.  However, there wasn’t much arguing… Nikki’s ghost was literally standing in front of him.

“Okay I have no idea if this is a dream, I’m dead or in a coma, or simply I drank too much but now I’ll grab some vodka and you’ll spill your little secrets as you like”.

Nikki smiled a bit… He honestly felt normal for the first time since he was brought back.  Having Mick joking was so familiar, usually Tommy was the aim of his jokes and they all laughed because they were all so unexpected…

Tommy. Thinking about him still hurt, again he wondered if he was okay and how much he missed him… but it wasn’t his time now.  He had other things to talk about as Mick came back into the living room with his glass.

“Mick… you gotta promise me that you won’t let Motley Crue die, that you will fight to keep the band’s legacy.”

The older man looked at him surprised, rolling his eyes.

“Well that’s a bit hard when our bassist and songwriter died!”

Rage and resentment were heavy in his voice but there was more : fear and sadness. Nikki felt guilty and he fucking hated it, it was so unlike him but he couldn’t help it… Mick cared about the band as much as he did.  He always said the band was his life, before heroin came into the picture, but it was also Mick’s and he probably destroyed everything.

“You will find another one, another bassist who is also a songwriter…” The words felt so foreign coming from his mouth.  They even hurt a bit but they were necessary.

“I know you care about this band as much as I do, Mick. I know how much you’ve worked your ass off in shitty bands, trying to find the one that was going to break… I might be dead but Crue can’t have the same fate”.

Mick scoffed, taking a long sip of his vodka.

“It’s not easy, it’s not like we can find the perfect match like we did. Plus, everyone will probably hate him for replacing you!”

The frustration was almost tangible, but there was something else… Mick was scared, he knew everything was about to fade away because of Nikki’s actions, he was already looking at the boat sinking. Nikki started to panic because his band had to live, even in his death! It was pointless and selfish but that was the only thing people could remind him of.

“If you give up, then Vince and Tommy will do the same! I know that you think no one will take you, but the truth is they will. Crue is what it is because of our vision, you are part of it and I’m asking you to keep it going. Think of this as my dying man’s wish… even if I’m already dead”

The older man’s grip on his glass got tighter, his eyes lost in thought as he was pondering Nikki’s words. It was hard to take in, hell that was an understatement, it was fucking insane and probably wouldn’t work but the bassist needed to have this false hope.

“It’s so fucking weird, you know? To realize you’re fucking dead yet here talking to me.”

He was deflecting, Nikki knew it, but didn’t want to push it too far. He learned to know Mick, he kept his promises and he was a hard worker and with a good dose of luck and jokes, you got him to your side.

“Yeah, do you remember how I said you weren’t going to make it in that interview? Well, karma hits like a bitch!”

“Mick might not make it , he drinks a little too much and it looks rough” Mick quoted, trying to imitate Nikki’s voice.

“Yeah and then you said something like I heard what you said and you’re dead, fuck I guess you were right” He laughed but Mick didn’t.

Oh c’mon so what if he was joking about his death? It’s not like anyone really cared about him.  They just saw him as a burden, which he was. Not his mom, nor his band or his Tommy would have really missed him… they would eventually move on.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said annoyed but his lips formed a small smile.

“I know, I know. Mick… please promise me that. If Crue is going to end, then my whole life didn’t mean anything! Ple…” He stopped himself, he was so fucking close to begging but he couldn’t. Nikki Sixx didn’t fucking beg, not in life or death.

“I’m thinking about it!”

He really meant the first part. He spent all his teenage and adult years creating the band of his dreams and making sure they conquered the world.  This band was his escape; his attempt at redemption after his shitty childhood. Nobody loved Frank Feranna but he didn’t care, he would become Nikki Sixx and be super fucking famous!

He didn’t need anyone’s love, except that he did.

“ I love you, Nikki.”

“ No you don’t, nobody does, T-Bone”

“Well I fucking do. You gotta pass on my dead body before you’ll hear me not saying it over and over”

His heart might have stopped, but he still felt the big wave of nostalgia hitting him. He couldn’t do it, he would have never been ready to see him again.

“Okay, I will. But listen to me, it won’t be easy and I’m an old man with a fucked up back, so don’t send demons against me if I fail!” The little spark of determination in his eyes relaxed Nikki, he was on board.

“I fucking knew you were the best, Mars! If I wasn’t dead I’d probably tattoo your face on me as a thank you!”

“Oh gross, never say that again!” He pretended to be disgusted but his eyes betrayed him, the small softness in them told Nikki he felt touched.

“Who knows, maybe in hell they have tattoos for the ghosts. God we used to hate each other and now we are two peas in a pod.”

“I still hate you.”

“Ugh, you crushed my heart Mick”

The guitarist flipped him off, rolling his eyes. Nikki desperately wanted to keep talking, if he did then he could have pretended nothing changed, right? He didn’t have to face Vince and Tommy and go through the light… everything would have stayed the same or he could fool himself that it would.

I think it’s time to go to the next person.

The voice was demanding yet still calm. Nikki knew that he couldn’t stay forever, they had to prevent spirits from just lingering into the real world like that, it made him a bit angry but he understood it. It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway…He was just a shell of what he used to be.

“I gotta go Mick…” He wanted to punch himself because he sounded so fucking pathetic, but the other man gave him a compassionate smile.

What he fuck are you, a little small puppy? Oh look Frankie is scared to leave his illusion of a family.

Mick walked him to the other without saying anything, but before turning the handle, which was pointless because Nikki could have just passed through the door, he broke the silence.

“Try to give us some signs, okay? Show us that you’re there… but don’t you fucking dare spill my vodka or I’ll make you two times dead!”

“Oh that’s exactly what I’ll do, thanks for the suggestion!”

He stepped outside and looked at Mick one last time.

“You promised, alien. You gotta do it!”

“Yeah yeah, you better repay me when I come to join you there…” And with one last look, Mick closed the door.

Nikki felt all of the weight crushing down on his body, even if it was made of air. He simply stood still, his mind racing like a freight train, trying to take everything in but also getting ready for his next move… being overwhelmed was an understatement, he felt peeled down like an orange and this was only the beginning. He felt like a fucking coward but he just wanted to get over it, was it that bad to accept his fate and disappear without facing anyone?

You are going to abandon him again? You know why you need to talk to Vince, and you know this will be your last chance to see him, asshole!

He went to kick the sand, but he couldn’t touch it. God, how frustrating was that!

So where are we going next?

Nikki would have wanted to scream at him, give him the middle finger and just run away but it wouldn’t have been helpful, would it? So he forced himself to be as neutral as possible.

“Vince Neil. Take me to his house.”

#nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #mick mard #vince neil #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #80sRock #80s rock band #fanfiction #my writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx

[serpents-den]

okay so we need to talk.

we need to have a conversation about snape's memories because it was a shit show.

and as we all are heavily biased over these characters let's just picture it with some i just made up.

so we have amanda, christopher, sara, lyra, hector, stacy and anton

amanda and sara are best friends since they were 9. sara was often treated badly for being poor, different and overall not having the best personality ever. her parents are neglectful and abusive, amanda is probably the first person to ever be kind to her. and sara loves amanda, she's the only one in their little town that is also weird like her, they can do things nobody else can.

amanda and sara start spending time together. amanda asks sara if it makes a difference that she's a muggle-born, sara hesitates because while she has never met another muggle-born, her magic isn't less for having a muggle father, lily still has magic so it doesn't matter if she's muggle-born does it? sara is not prejudiced, not yet at least.

that day amanda's older sister, stacy, spies on them and when she's caught she's mean to sara and makes fun of her clothing (again, shes poor). sara is angry and overwhelmed which makes her accidental magic lash out and a branch almost falls on stacy. amanda, regardless of how mean stacy is to her, gets mad at this and blames it on sara. again — this was accidental magic, it doesn't take a genius to say it was an accident.

years pass and they are still close, they get their hogwarts letters and are ready to go on the train despite the earlier argument stacy and amanda had. sara doesn't know why stacy is so important to amanda, yeah she's her sister but she's a muggle AND she's mean. sara doesn't care much for her father either, he's a muggle and he's mean too.

they get in a compartment and meet lyra and christopher. they try to talk but sara is not a people's person. sara then claims she wants to be in her mother's house, slytherin, and encourages amanda to do the same. the other two almost horrified when christopher claims he is hoping for gryffindor and sara teases the house, but, sara is raised in the muggle world, all she knows about this world is what her mother says and what she reads in books. it's not really her view at the moment, she's just repeating what she knows.

at that moment lyra, whos hoping to be anything but slytherin, decides sara is worth teasing too and gives her the horrible nickname of snivella. they are eleven.

years pass and amanda and sara have an argument.

'... thought we were supposed to be friends?' sara said. 'best friends?'

and the matter is that amanda dislikes the people sara hangs out with. let's make something clear, after that horrid encounter with christopher and lyra their gang has decided to hex people they blatantly dislike but their favourite victim is sara, she's really bullied and chances are people who try to get next to her will get too so everyone tries not to. and now sara has people that are willing to be near her despite her being a poor, half-blood in slytherin, people from her own house. and amanda doesn't like them? well too bad!

yes anton is creepy and he might not be the nicest dude to be around, but he's in sara's house and either amanda likes it or not, sara needs friends. sara is bullied out of slytherin and then looked down upon within her house, amanda would never get it though, does she believe sara can only cling onto amanda for dear life? is amanda the only friend sara is supposed to have when other houses ignore her or bully her? amanda is a prefect, she's popular, she would never get it

anton was a bitch to mary the other day, he hexed her. amanda tells sara that was dark magic. all hexes are dark magic. christopher and his cronies always hex people when they feel like it but amanda never feels as inclined to talk shit about them as she does about sara's only friends.

sara tries to tell amanda the truth about the situation. tries to tell her christopher's gang is worse than what she thinks they are. yes christopher saved sara from being turned or eaten by hector, his werewolf friend, but after years od bullying how is she not supposed to believe anything other than the fact he got cold feet about murder? the headmaster forced sara to be silent about it, but sara knows and sees how amanda is about christopher. she wants to warn her, please they are not who you think they are. they almost got her killed, sara doesn't think they are good people at all despite christopher's reputation as popular gryffindor chaser and lyra's dazzling good looks.

sara is the only one who sees them for what they are and wants to open amanda's eyes and then amanda has the nerve to call her ungrateful? because she's heard christopher has saved her? but she doesn't ponder on what was she saving her from, on what they were both doing there, on how christopher knew whatever sara was looking for. but amanda is clever, is not that she can't see, she doesn't want to see.

'... I just don’t want to see you made a fool of – he fancies you, Christopher fancies you!’

and sara is not saying this as some sort of christopher's love rival, she doesn't want to see amanda made a fool of because she doesn't think christopher's a good person and she can't just tell her best friend how his gang tried to kill her because she has no support even from the teachers.

amanda says she knows christopher is an arrogant toe-rag but sara's friends are no better. but why would she complain about the only people willing to spend time with sara and not about the ones who bully her all the time? but sara is not focused on that, amanda said she knows how christopher is. she relaxes, maybe there is hope, maybe.

then one day, christopher and lyra decide to attack sara with her own spells. and doesn't that scream stalker? they attack her and its horrible, publicly, in front of the lake and she can't even defend herself. but even if sara is not conventionally pretty or rich, she's prideful. and amanda jumps to the rescue, in her own way.

amanda starts riling up christopher and lyra, "trying to get them to stop" and sara can't stop herself from feeling betrayed. does amanda think she can't handle this after years of bullying? does she think this is the worst they can do? bloody hell, lyra tried to kill her! amanda is a prefect. and she's talking to them, talking to them, being angry, she's shouting.

amanda doesn't take points, doesn't call for a teacher, amanda doesn't give detention. amanda just talks to them and then she asks that ill fated question.

'What's she done to you?'

isn't it obvious amanda, it took sara some minutes to earn his hatred when they were eleven and she hurt christopher's ego.

‘Well,’ said Christopher, appearing to deliberate the point, ‘it’s more the fact that she exists, if you know what I mean …’

and everyone laughs, its humiliating, everyone fucking laughs but amanda and the coward of hector, both are prefects. amanda is doing nothing and hector is ignoring everything. sara knows better, she knows hector is not doing this for her sake, however, he knows she is aware of his lycanthropya and tries not to get her mad, because he's afraid she'll tell. ha! as if she could without facing expulsion.

and sara's pride jumps, tired of amanda's useless talking with christopher. and she calls her a mudblood.

its what severed their friendship. sara had been spending too much time with anton and the likes of him, she's heard what they say about muggle-borns, and hell even if she is a mudblood, her father is a muggle! and she got that from them, not like amanda would listen, not that she would care. sara made a mistake and will pay for it.

but amanda is sara's oldest friend, the only one that really matters. the first one to be kind to her, her amanda. but amanda is no longer sara's friends and sara has subconsciously chosen her side of the war when she was desperate of not being an outcast in slytherin.

and amanda says she's made excuse over the years for her, years of being friends with slimy, gloomy sara. none of her friends understood why she even talked to sara — but what amanda didn't realise is that while sara was getting groomed by blood purists who saw amanda as an inferior because of her blood, she was getting groomed by her friends who thought sara was unworthy of her friendship. in the end they were both preparing to the end of their friendship without even realising.

and theres going to be a war, and theres sadly only two sides. so yeah, maybe sara's morals suck, but she's fifteen and she knows where christopher and lyra and fucking hector and that rat looking friend of theirs are going to be. sara knows she never had a shot in the light side since the moment she teased the gryffindor house and that's something amanda will never get, because she's not in slytherin. amanda is not part of the house everyone thinks of as evil. and you know what happens when everyone claims you are evil since you are eleven? you believe if. everyone says you are evil so you might as well be.

why would she think kindly of muggles when the only acceptable ones are amanda's parents? even her sister is a bitch. her father is horrible and he's a muggle. she's always been looked down upon for being different in cokeworth, for being a freak.

and maybe muggle-borns were bad, maybe, but amanda would never because amanda is her best friend and she loves her.

and maybe a death eater is what she wants to be, because death eaters may look down on her for being a half-blood, but at least they want her. they dont push her out, they dont bully her, they dont try to kill her. maybe its amanda's side of the war the one that's rotten.

and she didnt mean to call her a mudblood, not her at least, and that amanda understands. why would she be the exception? well, because even if amanda had been a shoddy prefect she had been there from the start. not that it matters anymore though.

and maybe sara wouldnt even have been friends with anton in the first place had she had more friends, if more people hadn't been wary of talking to her because shes a slytherin and christopher's favourite victim.

maybe sara wouldnt have had the need of being a blood purist had her own father not been a bastard to her.

many things went wrong while they were students. but the more i think about it the less it looks like it was all severus' fault. they were kids, they all made mistakes but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be held accountable for their actions, they were fifteen not five.

james never stopped bullying severus and severus never stopped giving "as good as he got" despite the fact james always needed backup.

maybe hogwarts professors shouldn't have been as a stuck up as they were and Maybe AND JUST MAYBE do something useful like i dont know, stop bullying?

#pro snape #pro severus snape #harry potter #hp #anti marauders #anti james potter #severus snape #lily evans

[morwensteelsheen]

farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

[ccsthemovie2]

trick or treat 2021 letter

DEAR MY KIND AND HARDWORKING GIFTER,

hi there my ao3 is zagspect and thanks in advance for making me a piece of fic or art in this fun little exchange! heres some food for thought to munch on.

i loooove slice of life, character moments, outsider povs that make things we’re used to in canon seem absurd or funny or weird or scary, humor, horror-in-fluff’s-clothing, sweetness-found-in-horror, and also just plain sweetness. feel free to get weird or experimental with your writing if you think the moment calls for it :3 im not really requesting anything sexy-nsfw in this exchange so pls keep things down to a nice pg13 (high-rated gore for higurashi work is an exception, lol, like, it’s when they cry. that’s just part of the deal.)

🌸✨

cardcaptor sakura (trick or treat!)

clear card manga spoilers are fine with me! manga and anime canon are both fine, and mashing them up is cool too. no aus past that though, please!

clow reed

the big man himself! scare me with his his manipulative tendencies, his eternal pushpull fear of both being eternally relied on and being no longer needed, the way he treats other people, especially people who love him. (yue! the madoushi! i am into both of these being unrequited romantically on his end, but he’s not gonna just gonna tell them that, you think he’s straightforward like that?) what’s daily life like in the clowse? creating a new card, what’s that like? does everybody get along with the normal, non magic neighbors? 

yelan li

what’s up with her??? what’s her relationship with her children like, what are the responsibilities of a magician family’s head, how weird is it that clow is kind of back all of a sudden, what’s her thoughts on sakura? fleshing out a minor character is always fun :]

eriol & li

okay, so, we get to the end of the original series. syaoran returns to hong kong. ????????. syaoran is in cahoots with eriol to (vaguely alluding to cc spoilers in case you haven’t caught up in the manga), do some pretty serious magic behind sakura’s back.

so, like... what went down in the ?????

kero & sakura & yue 

they’re FAMBILYYYYY. magic found family i love them so much. show me the depths of their care for her, and hers for them, the way there’s absolutely some ice to break with yue but when he gets loyal he will DIE for you, the way sakura can mend the rift between kero and yue, the way the two of them are balancing this wonderful openness and equality with oh yeah, she’s eleven, we kind of said some seriously dark stuff in the haze of sleepover talk didn’t we? 

ruby & spinel & eriol 

pre-canon or mid-canon or post-canon! what’s the dynamic between them, a quiet night in, a day out telling people that you’re connected by whatever lie you find funniest. going to tomoeda and having to pretend youre a kid, a teen, and a cat, but goddd you could all go for an elegant and adult glass of wine right now (especially the cat). what horrors are lurking in that house from the clow era that no one cares to address? like emotionally and also because it’s a magic wizard house with magic stuff in it. 

touya/yukito/yue 

i am here for any and all angles of this ship- all together, your touyukis, your yuetouyas, your yuekitos if you wanna get in on a rarely seen angle! (but pls have touya and/or yukito be 18+ at a time where yue shows interest in them). i wanna see the way they interact! how they deal with, you know, the everything! pre-relationship pining, going on a date, touya and yukito in college wondering if they’ll end up having different majors, different paths for the first time. yukito seeing yue on video for the first time (OH NO HES HOT), yukito and yue figuring out internal boundaries, etc etc etc.  

naoko and touya 

the girl who loves ghosts and the guy who sees (or, used to see), ghosts! does she follow him to one of his haunts (pun intended)? does he have to go to her for ghost sensing advice now that he’s a regular old human? does he have to save her from a ghost that means her harm? how excited is she to tell sakura about the COOL GHOST I MET WITH YOUR BROTHER OMG U DIDNT TELL ME HE LIKES GHOSTS??? and how much does sakura wanna sink into the ground lololol

🌹⚔️

revolutionary girl utena (trick or treat!)

ohh, what a place of scary happenings! tell me a fairytale, even if it’s not such a good idea. pre, mid, postcanon, im fine with it all. feel free to weave a web with easter egg references to any other media you feel is right for the moment- utena is all about Genre and Stories!

shadow girls 

i love them i love their whole everything. i wanna see a play, i wanna see them interact with other characters! what if they do a play AS the other characters, ooooh.

anthy/utena 

THE GIRLS WHO INVENTED LOVE THEMSELVES. ive read a thousand stories of them finding each other and it never gets old. id love to read about their life post-ohtori, especially the not-so-happily-ever-after parts- the old wounds reopening, the fights, and how they work through it, wont lose each other ever again. 

saionji/touga

what’s spookier than toxic masculinity? both of them miserably stuck, saionji obsessed with touga, touga believing anyone who believes in friendship is a fool. bro we are taking shirtless pictures among 500 potted cacti....why does my heart hurt..... oh shit its the cactus i rolled onto it ow ow

nanami

nanami being nanami! she’s got no clue how to act ever, she’s desperate, she’s trying SO HARD. i’d love to see a nanami finally getting out of there, too. leaving home with nothing but the clothes on her back, diamonds in her necklace, and a wheeled suitcase of raw eggs.... (crunch crunch crunch)

🎲🗓

higurashi when they cry (trick or treat!)

i’m a gou/sotsu enjoyer and gonna prompt about that a lot but original flavor is, of course, great too. pls dont go too heavy on info outside the main 8+saikoroshi+gou/sotsu? i haven’t read those. ive read umineko+ciconia though so references there are fine :3

rena/mion/keiichi

college days! getting together, crushing on each other, poly relationship figuringouts? dates that are just club meetings with kissing and all the ridiculousness of that.

satoko/rika

gou/sotsu era TOXIC LESBIAN EPIC MOMENTS!!!!!! obsession and desperation and satoko putting all her emotional eggs in rika’s basket no matter how angry she is with her, rika’s love for satoko across 100 years and how that all crumbles (to satoko) in the face of rika’s Cool School. rika wanting satoko to go to school with her so so so bad. deep pain and misunderstandings and acting badly (like, murder badly), and then, we hope, atonement and something new beginning? i love character moments where someones so obsessively in love it feels like its eating them up inside.

rena & satoko

look, rena’s smart and really pays attention to how people feel and i think, before or after satoko becomes a looper but especially after, she would make an attempt to have a heart to heart with satoko. and satoko, as a looper, will politely brush her off, will go you dont know me you can’t affect me. youre just a chess piece. when i get to the miracle world where rika loves me, ill listen to you. this you is here to die, or to kill. 

eua

oh eua is just using satoko up like a bar of soap and it takes satoko way, way too long to realize. evil girltalk/crush advice from the witchmom perhaps?

shion

meakashi made me LOVE her. internal shion moments, perhaps? shion being an empath (decides what ppl are thinking and instantly believes it)? shion in gou-era wanting to talk to satoko about st. lucia’s, but she never shows up to dinner?

okay i think that’s all for now!!! thanks and i hope you have fun!!!

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

your hc about mary please🤲🏻🤲🏻

Aw thanks so much for asking!! Idk if you're the same anon that asked about Tilda or a different one, but I appreciate you just the same 😍 no one has interacted with the Tilda post yet from what I can see so idk if people care about this in general but im glad you do! And I'd love to share regardless.

Once again this'll probably be long so it's going under a cut. Cw for normal aftg stuff but then also a little human trafficking mention in the beginning and general abuse/neglect both physical and emotional.

And once again this is in no way to excuse Mary's shitty behavior. She and Tilda were both abusive and terrible mothers and this is more just an exploration of the character and her mentality than anything else. I just love character depth.

Finally, I apologize if this isn't very well worded. I'm pretty tired but I dont like editing myself lmao I'd rather just get this out now. I think I get my points across clearly enough so I don't care as much about how good or bad the writing is

So Mary's mother was a woman who I consider not only having married into the Hatfords but who was basically like... sold to them as a child. Like maybe she was the illegitimate child of some other wealthy family who happened to owe some kind of debt to the Hatfords. And the Hatfords had only one son and were struggling to have another, but were desperate to keep the family line going. So they took this baby in exchange for forgiving a debt, and raised her to one day marry their son.

So this girl (whose name I've decided is Marion for some reason) is raised as a member of the family but like... slightly less. Treated as more of an object than a person. They basically only gave her enough of an education for her to get by, and made sure she knew from a young age that her sole purpose in the family was to marry their son (let's call him Samuel).

So you can imagine she didn't grow into a very happy woman. But she filled her role. She married Samuel Hatford, gave him 3 kids, and then pretended to stay out of the way. Stuart was the oldest, Mary in the middle, and I hc they had a younger sister as well. Don't ask me why. That just popped into my head one day and now I can't imagine otherwise.

So this family dynamic was fucked from the beginning. See Marion filled her role, but she had plans. In raising her children, she gave a great deal of care and attention to Stuart as he was the eldest and the only son. He was to inherit the family business upon his father's death or retirement. And she wanted to make sure she was taken care of properly in her old age. So she made Stuart feel as loved and doted on as she could.

Her daughters served her no purpose, so they got very different treatment. Mary especially was affected by this. The youngest daughter was able to generally slip under the radar and find her own niche in the world (married into a powerful wealthy family through a man she genuinely loved and that was already more than anyone needed or expected from her).

But Mary. She felt her mother's cold shoulder on a very deep level. Their father wasn't exactly a family man- couldn't be bothered. And here was her mother, so plainly and openly playing favorites. Stuart would get hugs and soft words while Mary would- on a good day- get slapped for even opening her mouth. See Mary and her sister were never meant to have any real power in the family. So what did it matter to Marion what grudges they held against her?

So enough years go by and Marion decides its taking too long for her husband to retire. So she takes matters into her own hands. Starts slowly slipping poison into his meals in very small doses until he's too weak to fight back when she slits his throat. She doesn't hide what she did. She doesn't need to. When Stuart takes over at 22 years old, he can't find it in himself NOT to protect her.

But I'm getting carried away. So Mary was now in a pretty weird spot. Stuart being in charge gave her a bit stronger footing in the family (they'd always had a very close relationship despite their mother's attitude), but she was still lower rung. She still suffered at the hands of her mother's emotional neglect and manipulation. And she was getting tired of it.

In comes Nathan Wesninski. See the thing I imagine with Nathan is that he is actually incredible charming. His knives can only get him so much when there are people he can't reach to cut up. And when his rising empire starts doing business with the Hatfords, he and Mary latch onto one another very quickly.

They each have their own intentions in the relationship and neither of them are blind to that. But it wasn't an arranged marriage. See Mary saw Nathan as her ticket up and out. She knew he was vying for power and she knew he was fully capable of getting it. I wouldn't go as far to say they were ever in love- I don't think either of them were ever really capable of that- but Mary definitely had some strong faith in what their relationship could be.

Now, when she looked forward, she finally saw herself on top. She saw her and Nathan standing side by side. That power that had always been out of reach for her? It was now in sight, and she definitely was blinded by that. She didn't see what Nathan really was until she was in too deep.

Stuart and the younger sister had disapproved of Mary and Nathan being together from the beginning. Being in business with him, Stuart knew what Nathan really was and how much he could drag Mary down. Their younger sister had just learned to be much better at reading people. But it didn't matter what they said. Mary had her plan and nothing was going to take it from her.

Mary's commitment to marrying Nathan and Stuart's blatant disapproval of him created a deep rift between them. They had always been very close, but Mary saw his interference as an attempt to keep her in her place. She was stubborn and refused to back down. By the time she and Nathan got married, her and Stuart were barely on speaking terms.

Now the thing is, Nathan knew what he wanted out of Mary. And he also knew that once he had her, she wouldn't be able to go anywhere until he got what he wanted.

It didn't take too long for Mary to come to understand that what they had was never and would never be a partnership. She was a tool to him. And by the time she had Abram, he was already beating her into submission and openly fooling around with Lola on the side.

But now she was stuck. Their marriage may not have been arranged, but it was still a business deal. And even if it wasn't, Nathan wasn't going to let her go anywhere.

Once it became clear that Abram wasn't going to make an appropriate heir for the Wesninski business and Nathan tried to sell him to the Moriyamas, Mary decided she'd had enough. She was going to get out one way or another.

Now here's the thing. We know what Mary was like with Neil when they were on the run. We know how abusive and controlling she was. And she could say it was for his own good all she wanted. But ultimately, it was all about power. She had been beaten down from the very start of her life. She'd been left in the dust, bloody and bruised, while those around her rose to a power that was always just out of her reach.

But now it was just her and her son. And they may not even have the luxury of being real people anymore, but damn if she was going to lose the one thing she was able to call hers- the one thing in the world she actually had power over.

Because that's really all it's ever about isn't it? Mary Hatford wasn't capable of loving anything or anyone. The people who'd raised her and made her who she was had never taught her how to do that. And maybe the fierce protectiveness she had over Abram was the closest she could get to it. But really she just ultimately became the same thing she had always been fighting against. Now it was her own heavy and swift hands doling out punishment to a misbehaving child. Now she herself was the one getting the last word and making all the decisions. Now she had someone following her every command.

It eventually became clear to her that she very likely would die sooner or later at the hands of Nathan and his men. She could only run so far and for so long. But even in her death, she knew she would never let them take what was hers. She never took Abram to Stuart because the break in their relationship was beyond repair at this point. But she still would prefer Abram eventually ended up in his protection than at the end of Nathan's knife. But until these things came, she took Abram and kept running. The more days they ran, the more days she had of power over him and freedom from everything else. The more able she was to ensure that Abram would keep running after her death; that he'd never fall under anyone else's power and that her voice would be the only one left in his head at the end of each day.

If she could see where he'd ended up, she'd be furious (and she'd be surprised at her own fury, as introspection wasn't something she indulged in often). He was never meant to live. He was never meant to move on from her memory or to leave her dying request behind.

But, at the same time, good for him for finding his own strength and place in the world. Because of course it could only happen once she was gone.

---

So thats my take on Mary. Once again, she was a piece of shit just like Tilda. This is not to do anything other than explore the character and give her complexity. I do genuinely believed she "loved" Neil in the only way she could ever be capable of loving anyone. But it wasn't love. It was possession. And good on both him and Andrew (and Aaron and Nicky for that matter) for being able to slowly learn to heal from the abuse they suffered at the hands of their parents.

Thanks so much again for asking!! It means a lot and I love to share my headcanons 😊❤

#aftg #aftg meta #mary hatford #stuart hatford #neil josten #nathan wesninski #nathaniel wesninski #abram hatford #tfc #my writing

[trulymadlysydney]

HI BESTIE ITS ME! I DONT WANNA SPOIL THIS FOR YOU ACCIDENTALLY SO DONT READ ON UNTIL YOUVE WATCHED!

I AM SO UPSET! JEREMY OVER JAVONNY AND WES?? LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THEY HAD ONE JOB AND THEY FUCKED IT UP! THAT WAS THE ONE GUY WE ALL WANTED TO GO HOME AND THEY MESSED UP SO UNBELIEVABLY BAD! JAVONNY DIDNT EVEN HAVE THE CHANCE TO FIND SOMEONE BC OF OLIVIA STRINGING HIM ALONG FOR 3 WEEKS! GOD HOW COULD THEY DO THAT TO HIM?

AND PICKING OLIVIA OVER AIMEE? REALLY? WHAT WAS THE THOUGHT PROCESS BEHIND THAT? AND DID YOU HEAR CASH TELL OLIVIA THE GUYS SAID IT WAS BETWEEN FLORITA AND OLIVIA? LIKE WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY THINKING? AIMEE DESERVED TO BE THERE MORE THAN THOSE OTHER TWO! OLIVIA IS SO BLAND AND EVERYTHING WEVE SEEN OF HER MAKES ME SO ANNOYED! I DONT LIKE HER! GET HER OFF THE ISLAND NOW!

Okay I think I’m done with caps now lmao. But dude I am so mad and I will admit I teared up when they were saying goodbye to javonny. He deserved so much better than what he got. And the fact that they played falling right after they were all dumped?? A bitch was crying. And it was sweet that will made Jeremy a sandwich to make him feel better but fuck Jeremy oh my god I hate him so much. Everytime Jeremy or Olivia would talk I would say shut up and maybe that’s petty but come on! Why are they still there? The islanders are not on the same page as the viewers and I hate it so much.

And now I feel like the show is so boring with javonny. I could barely pay attention to tonight’s episode bc I was so mad and all the people who are left don’t have half the personality javonny does. That man was literally carrying the entire show on his shoulders huh.

Everything is just the same shit isn’t it? Cash and Trina and cinco every episode… I am TIRED. Cash is starting to look borderline desperate legit begging cinco to be with her. I feel like we talk about this everyday bc that’s literally all that they show. And honestly the more the show of it the more I don’t like cash. She needs to move tf on and her and Olivia together being painted as girls who are second choice irritates me. Like they keep playing victim but they go for guys who don’t want them! What do you expect? I cannot stand them anymore. God I’m so salty rn. I hate everyone in that villa😂

Okay last thing! There may be a chance for javonny and Aimee! In like the third uk season of love island towards the end they let the public vote for two islanders to return and they included two people who were previously kicked out and they came back! So maybe that’ll happen this season too! They’d be kinda dumb not to bc javonny is a fan favorite and twitter is so mad that Jeremy and Olivia were saved. I guess one good thing that came out of it is that Wes and Aimee made it seem like they were gonna stay together after the villa and I hope to god they work out even if it’s just for a little. They deserved a chance the two hottest people in the villa… my king and queen I miss them :( -E

OKAY FINALLY WATCHED IT BESTIE LETS DISCUSS

I LITERALLY!! CRIED AT JAVONNY LEAVING LIKE HIS LITTLE GOODBYE WITH OLIVIA? "I'm gonna dance with you in the rain one last time" or whatever he said oh my god I was legit in tears. I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY PICKED JEREMY LIKE WHAT? OVER JAVONNY? Luckily everything I've seen on social media about it (because I had the episode spoiled for me when I opened insta rip) is showing that like, everyone is as upset about it as we are. Jeremy needs to go. I AGREE ABOUT OLIVIA LIKE!!! YALL SHOULD HAVE GIVEN AIMEE A CHANCE! Olivia had her chance and BLEW IT FOR THREE WHOLE WEEKS LIKE GET HER OUT OF THERE.

LIKE HOW DID IT COME DOWN TO OLIVIA AND FLORITA?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!??! Olivia is boring and Florita is a whole SNAKE like AIMEE WAS GENUINE AND, LETS BE REAL HERE, SHE WAS THE HOTTEST GIRL IN THE ENTIRE VILLA PERIOD.

Will making Jeremy a sandwich was the cutest shit I've ever seen like when I tell you I am so in love and obsessed with Will lmao he's so cute 🥺. It's so crazy though, like they really are NOT on the same page as we are and like, yes that kind of goes to show how much they manipulate the show but it's also like.... I feel like these islanders love drama. (I agree though. Javonny carried.)

I'm so glad you're saying that because I didn't want to say it but like... I'm getting real tired of miss Cash lmao. "I can't just not go for it because of the love and respect I have for Trina" like why not? Also WHAT love and respect like ???? where? And like, on the one hand it's like "well Trina is getting exactly what she deserves because this is exactly what she did to Cash" but like Cash literally looks desperate the way she like... clings to Cinco (physically and emotionally) like I'm over it. Move on. Cinco is a fool lmao

OH SHIT THAT WOULD BE AMAZING IF THEY COULD COME BACK. I hopeeee they do because they literally deserve it. ALTHOUGH, something I've seen people mentioning is that Javonny needs to go for Cely from season 2, and HOLY SHIT I want nothing more than for that to happen. Like can you imagine? THE POWER THEY WOULD HOLD? THE FUNNIEST COUPLE ALIVE AND YOU KNOOOOW HE WOULD TREAT HER LIKE THE FUCKIN QUEEN SHE IS. I NEED THEM TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN.

#love island us

[anastasiaskarsgard]

I was challenged with writing a happy story with Roman Godfrey which was very challenging for me but I think I did it....

Wynter had just finished her dance rehearsal and was walking home. Like her mother before her, She had been dancing all her life.

Her mother had been a world renowned dancer, adored by millions and admired by all who saw her perform. Most would say she was the most gifted dancer ever to live. Her grace and precision was nothing short of perfection. The fact that she made it look as natural as walking down the street was no small feat either. Effortless grace.

Unfortunately, nearly a decade ago, she was returning to her hotel overseas, late after a performance, and the heavy rain caused her limo to hydroplane right into a wall, leaving no survivors.

Now, at age 23, Wynter was carrying on her mother's legacy, following in her footsteps. People had been so devastated to lose her mother, that they all turned to Wynter, to fill that space she’d left behind. Not wanting to think on how alone she was in the world, and just suffering a huge heartbreak at the hands of her first love,she threw herself into touring around the world. It was a hectic fast paced life, and she had missed out on a lot of milestones. One day she woke up and realized it’d been ten years since she’d seen her room in Hemlock Grove.

She got up and she called her manager and informed him she was returning home. She was taking a break. She committed to rehearsing dances for future events, while home, But mainly her focus was just relaxing. Attempting to carry on a normal existence that so many people take for granted. Going to the grocery store, reading a book under a tree, going for an afternoon swim, or taking a stroll through a park.

She currently was regretting not checking the weather before deciding to walk home by cutting through Hemlocks sprawling park. She probably should’ve paid attention to what time it was too, but she was having difficulty getting this certain routine down. Unlike her mother she had to work very hard to look so effortless. 

It was starting to rain, but she was over half way there. It was the fastest way home, and as she looked at her watch and saw it was close to midnight, she cursed herself for being so careless. A woman walking through A park late at night was not the smartest decision, add rain to the equation and it could very well end in disaster.

She had nearly forgotten how quickly rain could set upon you in her old hometown.It had started off light, but now was a downpour, Making it difficult to see, so all she could do was take shelter until the weather cleared up a bit. She walked towards a picnic table with a roof over it, Overlooking the small lake.

Then She saw him. Its not like he was hard to notice. He had always stood out, and intrigued her.

Anyone else who saw him would have avoided him, not only because the time and him being a single male, standing in the rain like a crazy person, but also because he had a terrible reputation. He was known for being harsh, cruel and unkind to all who crossed his path. He had a terrible temper, and no patience. At least that was what everyone told her, since she had returned.

But she didn’t remember him like that. She remembered a sweet Beautiful boy, With sad eyes and a shy smile. He was a heartbreaker tho. she had first-hand experience with that part of him. They’d been just kids then, when she made her silly confession at this very place, before her mother died and she had to go away.

They say you can spot your loved one in a crowd instantly. Did that mean that her childhood silly confession of love, for this troubled man wasn’t so silly? she never failed to spot him right away, no matter where they were.

It was quickly turning into a storm. She watched him, standing by himself, not caring if he got wet. Did he care? You could never tell with him.

He wasn't wearing a trench coat. What made him choose not to wear one? What made him come out into the rain this late?

He always worked. He worked everyday. Never once since she’d been back and seen him around, had she seen him smile. That's what happens when you run a company all by yourself she supposed. When you have no one to love you, or go home to.

He seemed different somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it , but there was almost an other worldly quality to him. It was probably just his beauty, he was almost too beautiful. He often looked like he was straight out of a magazine, with his designer clothes and expensive suits. His perfect angular features, and impressive height.

She was a bit surprised though, that he was wearing a white suit. Everyone knows that White is the worst color to wear when it rained. He's Smarter than most people. So why did he choose to come out here, wearing white? The color you can see through?

She ran her eyes over his form, and couldn’t help but ask herself if he was always that buff. She never noticed. Death and heartbreak makes one not notice things that should be obvious.

Wynter took a deep breath, and started walking towards him, away from shelter. She didn't know what compelled her to do so. He was just so... alluring. Tall, dark, and handsome. And dangerous.

As Wynter got closer, she could tell he became aware of someone else's presence. Slowly, he turned around. He looked irritated at first, but as soon as he recognized it was her, his face morphed into one of longing. Like he wanted her. Just like she had always wanted him.

They stared at each other. She was pleased he wasn’t being mean to her, but had no idea what to say. It’d been so long. True to his reputation, he grew impatient and spoke first.

"Wynter. I never thought you’d speak to me again. Not after -"

Wynter didnt let him finish. Some things were better left unsaid. "Let's not remember the past. It brings too much pain. Dont you agree, Roman?" He looked her over like she was hiding something and then turned his attention back to the lake before speaking,

“Do you remember this spot, Wynter? It's the place I first kissed you.”

Wynter chuckled remembering his clumsy attempt shortly before her mother passed.

She’d always been sent here to stay with her Aunt while her mother toured the world. When school was out she travelled with her mother, or they’d return to their mansion not far from Romans on the off season. Olivia liked her mother, so she was allowed to play with Roman from time to time.

“You broke my heart on this spot too. Saying you couldn’t ever love me. How you never would love me". Wynter glared over at him, waiting on a response. She shivered. He was cold, no reaction or anything and as the time stretched on, she grew Furious at him. He really was just like everyone said. Cold and cruel. What was she doing here? Why was she out here in the middle of the night getting drenched in the rain with the one guy that always got to her. Why did she do this to herself? Was she a masochist? Suddenly she saw a flash of him kissing her right there, and she pushed it down, shivering again. He still had such an effect on her. Thinking Wynter was cold, Roman walked over to her and embraced her.

He remembered. He remembered everything that happened between them. How her face always lit up when she saw him. How she never listened to the other kids and refused to ditch him. How she’d gotten a black eye, fighting some girls that were saying disgusting yet totally true things they did with him and she had refused to believe it. How she was and still is the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. How he lied to her. How he hurt the one person willing to love him. All these years, he regretted that day.

The following day, her Mother had died and she had to fly to Europe to deal with everything with her aunt. He tried to reach her with no luck, and had a full blown panic attack over the whole thing. finally, he had been able to reach her aunt. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the tongue lashing he received, and the promise that she would do everything in her power to protect Wynter from him.

He honestly couldn’t blame her. He was a piece of shit and any parental figure should try to keep their daughters safe from him. He knew what he was. He was an asshole, but he was also very self aware.

Now looking at his lost little ballerina, he felt like a fool. He had all the money in the world, a huge corporation, a rotating selection of the most Beautiful woman in the world, and not once since she had left had he felt so happy and content as he did standing there in the rain by her side.

He loved her. He always did. He never stopped loving her.

Who would have thought they would meet again at the same spot they parted ways? He wasn't going to let this chance, this woman, slip by him again. Turning to her, he could see She was crying now. He wasn’t the best at consoling people, but he knew something that might work. The only thing he had wanted to do for years.

He slowly tilted her head up, looking into her eyes, as if asking for permission and He kissed her. Immediately, She kissed him back. Never had they thought this would happen again. It was so full of emotion, it was heartbreaking and overwhelming. Pure, desperate need. Longing.

They stayed there, making out in the rain for an unknown amount of time. Both too scared to give the other a chance to escape, or realize what they were doing, and remember that they shouldn’t.

“Wynter?” He whispered.

“Yes Roman?” She whispered back, pulling back a bit to see his eyes.

“Please don’t leave me again. I’m so sorry I hurt you. You’re the only woman, that I don’t deserve, but you’re also the only one I want.” He stated sincerely.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the arrogant bastard. She didn’t know that you could sound conceited, when you begged, until now. She was bursting with emotion. This was everything she ever wanted, but she knew better. Roman Godfrey was dangerous. Did she care so little for her own Self-preservation? Was he worth the risk?

Fuck yes he was.

She smiled a bright smile up at him and nodded. “Only if you give me a piggy back ride, all the way home.” Without even Flinching or hesitating, Roman agreed and smiled the first real smile, she had seen him have since they were kids.

She squealed with delight, and hopped on, knowing that they were going to both be ok.

#bill skarsgard #roman godfrey #hemlock grove #fluff #my writing

[yonaih]

my dear if you could write something with either a gridlock/mira or a smoke/mute pairing - angst, fluff, humor whatever you can think of - you will have forever captured my heart c;

pairing: smoke/mute

word count: ~1.1k

a/n: ofc !!! i love u sheep! im gonna be honest w yall,, but i straight up dont know how to write happy fics. like. this is kinda garbage,,

James yearned to return to the SAS dorms after a gruelling training session, the stench of sweat in tow. He stunk, he reeked of the smell. Smoke was practically desperate for a shower. He could feel it now: warm water, a soapy sponge, the wonderful water pressure of the shower itself. His muscles were screaming, begging for relief. Despite his exhaustion, he meticulously stowed his gear away, taking care to not slam his locker shut. Cracking his knuckles and stretching, he yawned loudly, earning a well-intended snicker from Blitz as he walked by. Too tired to joke back, he grinned at the German and started his trek back. 

Drained of his energy, he looked forward to cuddling with - er, hugging - Mark. As a friend, of course. Right? Friends? Right? Who didn’t pal around with a good friend every once in a while? Really, they were only friends. There wasn’t anything else to it. Everyone needed a friend they could be real close with, alright? There wasn’t anything weird about it. 

Right?

“Who am I kidding, mate?” James muttered to himself, eyeing himself in a mirror, dragging his hand down his face. “Look at ya. Blithering fool.” Sticking his tongue out at himself, he rolled his eyes. Resignedly, he trudged back to his room and immediately hopped into the shower, a Bluetooth waterproof speaker in hand. Whistling a little, he put on one of his playlists and was almost euphoric the minute he stepped into the cascade of water. 

Letting the soothing drops of warm water spray his back, James found himself lost in thought. Much to his annoyance, Mark invaded every thought somehow. Scowling, he internally scolded himself, trying his hardest to avoid thinking about him. He quickly washed his hair and the rest of his body, his stomach tightened in anticipation and dread. He desperately wanted to see the other man, but Mark didn’t want to deal with all those damned feelings. Too complicated, he thought, berating himself once more for letting himself stray away and circle back to Mute. He finished up soon after, drying himself thoroughly before fetching his clothes from his closet. Opting for a t-shirt and sweatpants, James threw himself onto his bed dramatically, a certain operator on his mind once more. Too weak to fight back, he threw the covers over himself and simply waited. 

Mark, on the other hand, had other qualms. Pacing his room and glancing towards the dorm hallways every once in a while, he rehearsed his little spiel, trying to make sure James wouldn’t hear him in the other room. 

“Hey, you, uh, free to go out for, um, lunch with me sometime? Ah fuck. Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous. How about a spot of, er, lunch?” Groaning, he stopped, frustratedly crossing his arms and glaring at the floor. “This is ridiculous. I can’t even ask one bleeding question.” Why was this so hard?

Gazing dramatically out the window, he decided he was using too many words. God, I’m too damn nervous, he fretted. A moment of stillness passed before Mark let out a loud exhale. Suck it up, buttercup.

Suddenly a devout believer in God, Mute found himself praying harder than the most pious man in any church. In a strange panic, he let out a guttural groan and rubbed at his forehead. Feeling childish, he glanced at a mirror in the corner and glared at himself, trying his hardest to muster up any bits of courage he could.

James, still in bed, had gathered his thoughts, sullenly believing that his love was unrequited and decided that his world was over. 

Life had something pleasant coming his way, though. 

Perfectly on cue, Mark popped his head into James’ room, looking thoroughly flustered. Miserably, Smoke raised his head, giving his best fake smile as a greeting. 

“Er,” he started, watching Mute rub his hands together nervously. “Need something?”

“Well, how was training?”

“Ah. Shit as usual. Quite boring, really. Hard on the old back, but nothing new.”

“If you’re tired, why don’t we go out for a bite?”

“Sure,” James replied, shaking with barely repressed excitement. He felt rather silly, like a schoolboy with a crush. “Could do with a good meal.”

“Right. Er, how about that new sandwich place not far from base?” Internally fist pumping, Mark was grateful for the little win. “The one we saw a week ago.”

“Ah yes, lovely.”

“Shall we?” Motioning to the exit, Mark stepped out. 

“Yes. I won’t bother changing,” James laughed, ruffling his already scruffy hair. Mute smiled in return, walking side by side with him as they left the dorm. 

They decided to walk to the shop, keeping light conversation the whole way. Neither realized the real intentions of the other each time their hands brushed together, a brief taste of affection. James was beginning to get frustrated with himself, nearly bursting with the inexplicable urge to barf out his confession to Mark. 

Finally reaching his limit, months and months of strong feelings began to breach the surface. Based sheerly off of an impulse, James grasped Mark’s hand clumsily, holding onto the other’s fingers awkwardly. Mark took the sudden pause in conversation to adjust his grip before telling James to continue talking. 

Well, James certainly didn’t expect that. 

Now they were holding hands. 

Holding hands!

James didn’t resume talking until another few beats of awed silence passed. 

Mark was panicking too.

It was a dream come true for both of them. The rest of the impromptu date was a blur, only the euphoric feeling was remembered. Mark had long lost his appetite to nervousness since the walk, but he wolfed down the sandwich like his life depended on it.  He was childishly giddy, smiling the entire time. Their hands intertwined to fit perfectly, as if they were crafted to match each other. James was so lost in cloud nine that he couldn’t recall anything from his outing with Mark, even if he really tried. He felt like floating, the goofiest smile adorning his face. Was he dreaming? Was this real? It felt so right.

The walk back was indescribably enjoyable, to put it mildly for both operators. The warm feeling in Mark’s chest made his blood feel like honey and body feel 20 years younger. A young, innocent sense of glee overtook his typically passive exterior. God, it felt good. This was love, wasn’t it? 

Drifting through the hallways of Hereford base, the new couple subtly but proudly kept their hands clasped together, oblivious to the world around them. Lost in their own conversation, the two made their way into the SAS dorm, stopping in front of Mark’s room.

“I’ve got to do some work,” Mark sighed. 

“I’ll see ya later, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you,” James half-joked, giving Mark a wink.

Mark gave the other man a peck on the cheek before dipping into his bedroom.

James didn’t see that coming.

#writing requests #r6s request #smoke/mute #smoke x mute #r6s smoke #r6s mute #rainbow six siege #r6s #fanfiction #writing #james porter #mark chandar #uwu

[animentality]

His naivete is perfectly believable. Some people are that gullible.

It is not.

Some people may be gullible and idiotic, and you will never be able to know, with pinpoint accuracy, just how dumb a person can be, but when you're writing a story, you generally have to write characters in believable and realistic ways.

You can write characters to be more flamboyant or exaggerated, and that's a particular style of writing that I sometimes find admirable, but you generally have to be consistent and make it obvious that your ass kicking crazy illogical bloodknight warrior is just unrealistic enough to be a fantastical wish fulfillment character.

Hector, however, is just...so bad.

Season 2 Hector was kind of dumb, he literally betrayed Dracula ON ACCIDENT because he was too dumb to realize what was happening PLUS he also was too stupid to realize that Dracula was actually going to murder everyone.

But at least it was his first mistake.

This season, he basically showed us that he's so idiotic that he'd literally fuck a woman who beat the shit out of me, pretty much from the start made sure he know that he was nothing more than a pretty pet, and then had the nerve to act shocked that she'd tie him to her forever using her magic rings.

Like really?

She beat the crap out of you while sporting an anime tsundere look of disdain, she condescends to you, insults your old master while acting as though she would be a much better one, also pretty much told you that all she's interested in is diplomacy and the interaction of commerce, and somehow your tiny brain can't figure out that she's going to trick you when she says let's run away together?

Like really?

What made you think that was going to happen? All the wonderful past experiences with vampires that just went so well when you trusted them?

He trusted Dracula to be fair, he trusted carmilla to be logical and loyal, and then he trusted Lenore to love him, and it's like.

Nothing about your relationship was ever remotely balanced.

You were in a cage and she worked you over by giving you nice stuff. It was obvious from the beginning that she was playing an angle. She made that abundantly clear in their first meeting.

I just hate that you and other Castlevania fans are trying to act like he's some poor manipulated victim when the truth is that the writers are...just bad. You can write an easily manipulated character but they have to be believable or else they look like fools that you can't sympathize with, actual morons who don't deserve your sympathy. They can't keep making the same mistakes UNLESS it's portrayed as though they have a warped and misguided sense of loyalty to a particular type of person.

Lenore being a little nice to him is not a well written manipulation. It WOULD HAVE BEEN if season 2 didn't exist and he wasn't making this mistake literally for the third time.

But because that season exists, this one is just...weird.

Fool Hector one, shame on Dracula, fool Hector twice, shame on him, fool Hector three times, good Lord, triple the shame on him, he's really got a bad track record.

There were two better alternatives:

- show Hector as a whipping boy who gloms onto any new master that shows him any sort of affection and adoringly pledges his loyalty while demonstrating that he's weak willed and pathetic and it's sad, it's heartbreaking how unaware he is.

- or show that he refuses to be tricked anymore and has to be brute forced into becoming a new slave after resisting all of their attempts for a while, but maybe he realizes that he has no other options, out of desperation, he tries to get Lenore on his side but it backfires. Whatever.

Just dont do...exactly what you did, have him be tricked yet again through easy manipulation.

Like seriously she basically just gave him food and clothes and a nicer cell and he acted as though she must be in love with him just because she didn't beat the shit out of him every time she visited.

It was just dumb and I have to seriously go think about why Castlevania fans are so generous towards hector- is it because he's cute?

Is that all?

He's hot and he's naked this season and you guys just really want him to be real so you pretend he's well written and realistic because you'd look like a fool otherwise?

Well jokes on you in the end, we all look like fools now.

#castlevania

[hobiwonder]

Baby, Baby | 02 (m)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader x Taehyung, Taeyhung x Jimin

Genre: Surrogacy AU

Warnings: Smut (m x m, masturbation), Flufffff. A bit of Angst.

Words: 12k

Summary: When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

A/N: I’m just an impatient little shit and you guys made me so fluffy and soft inside that I had to post early ebfiewufnwe;oifn. Next chapter is the last and there will be an Epilogue but not sure when that will be posted. Chapter 3 will be posted in about a week as well. Happy reading and dont forget to stop by and say a few words !! it really keeps me going. :)) [not completely accurate representation of pregnancy up ahead].

(This gif makes me want vmin to impregnate me!!!!!11!!)

Maybe getting pregnant on the first try wasn’t so rare after all. It probably was but the universe had different plans for you as you sat there on the bed, a loud ringing in your ear blocking out Jimin’s joyful laughs as he hugged Taehyung tight. Dr. Klarna stood to the side with a smile on her face, watching the happy couple celebrate that the dream of them having a child of their own was slowly turning in to a reality. All the while you were trying to come to terms with the fact that you were really, actually pregnant. When the ringing in your ear finally dulls to let you hear what others were saying in the room, you hear Jimin telling Taehyung to cheer up. That they were finally going to be a family.

“We’re going to be dads babe,” He’s whispering close to Taehyung’s face, his back facing you while Taehyung’s disbelief can be clearly seen from where you sat.

It was as if they were both in their own little world while you watched from the side lines. Jimin’s happy and contagious little smile bringing a soft one to your own as you watch him hug Taehyung tight to his chest and it’s not long before Taehyung’s features are softening and he’s returning Jimin’s embrace, burying his head in Jimin’s neck. You could understand that this was a big moment for them and momentarily, you imagine if this is what it would be like when you become a mother of your own – with a loving partner of your own. The longing is there again, sliding its way up from your chest and making your eyes well up, watching the two men caught in a genuine moment of happiness. Maybe it’s the hormones that are coursing through you or maybe you really do feel alone in this room filled with lovers. Dr. Klarna must have sensed the way you were watching the two – probably looking pathetic because you were sure your eyes were starting to become red – and walks over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay dear?” You turn your face towards hers, nodding with a smile as you reassure her that you were fine.

She’s giving you a sympathetic – but kind – smile. “This is probably overwhelming for you as well. Considering that the biological – and the biggest – change of all for the time being is going to be for you.”

Jimin and Taehyung have finally broken their embrace when they see Dr. Klarna talking to you and then they are finally walking over to you both.

“We’re so sorry. We’re just a bit – a lot– excited.” He’s looking over at Taehyung for emphasis and he mirrors Jimin’s wide smile – only looking at him. Is he still mad at you? And what even is the reason?

You don’t get much time to think because Jimin is holding your hands in his soft ones again, effectively making your mind blank as you look down at where they meet.

“So everything is fine doctor? We can take her home?” Your heart is almost flying out of your chest at the way Jimin is casually asking her if they can take you home as if you’re all a couple. Your hands are starting to sweat and you’re sure your face is getting red. Gosh dang it. You were already weird to begin with and now that these pregnancy hormones will start kick in – you’ll probably turn into an even weirder version of yourself.

“Most certainly. You’ll feel the morning sickness in about two weeks – maybe longer if you’re lucky. I’ll prescribe you some tablets to take if it gets unbearably bad but it’s different for every woman.” She explains while looking between you and the other two men to make sure you’re all on the same page. Jimin is attentively listening to each word and when you glance at Taehyung, he’s looking directly at you – deep in thought – and you can’t turn your gaze away fast enough.

He still made you nervous.

“What do you know, maybe you won’t even feel any morning sickness at all.” Dr. Klarna is shrugging her shoulders with her eyebrows raised as she finishes explaining.

“Next appointment should be an ultrasound if all goes well so I’ll see you all then.”

“Thank you, doctor. See you.” This time, Taehyung has spoken up as Jimin smiles brightly at you. Soon, you’re jumping off the bed, following Jimin out the door as Taehyung is close behind.

Reasoning with Jimin is useless when you suggest that you can get home by yourself but he just stops you with a hand beside his face, nose upturned like he’s taking an oath. “No chance, madam.”

So quietly, you step inside the familiar Rolls Royce again, expecting Jimin to slide in after you and sit beside you like he had before. Instead, Taehyung is the one taking a seat next to you, momentarily making you panic – why? You’re not sure. The door is shut closed and you’re looking around confused as to why Jimin hadn’t gotten in.

“He’s gone to get your prescription.” Taehyung’s deep voice slightly startles you but you’re hoping he didn’t realise since he’s looking straight ahead. And then you two sit. In silence. It’s not even a minute later that you’ve started to fiddle with your fingers that are resting in your lap – nerves refusing to settle down because of the close proximity of Taehyung, so much so that you can almost feel his knee nudging yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” You’re genuinely taken aback when Taehyung speaks beside you, making your head turn to the side to see if he’d actually spoken. It was a bit hard to tell that he had because he’s still looking ahead but thankfully, he repeats himself.

“I’m sorry,” he takes a deep breath, “for speaking to you like that earlier.” And then he’s turning his face to look at you, finally.

“I was out of line and I want you to know; I did not mean what I had said.” A few seconds pass, neither of you blinking until you can see Jimin’s figure approaching the vehicle from the window.

So you instead of saying anything back, you just nod while he continues to stare as if trying to read you – see if you’ve actually forgiven him or not. But what did that matter? You were technically employed by him. He was paying you quite handsomely and it’s not like you were in a position to be getting cross at the people who are paying for your college.

But you don’t say that to him. Thankfully, Jimin’s lighter aura is filling the car as he enters on the other side of you and the tension in the cramped space diminishes slightly.

“Alright! Let’s get you home.”

The evening air is chilly as winter has approached and you can really feel the bite in the air as you step out of the fancy car, Jimin holding the door open for you. The whole ride, Taehyung hadn’t said a word after his attempt at an apology. And you were glad that he didn’t because you weren’t sure if you were ready to act like nothing had happened. The venom that had laced the accusation in his words, assuming that you were about to bolt when Jimin had been trying his best to keep you comfortable – was something else altogether. He’d never spoken to you that way before neither had he seemed that opposed to you either. Sure, he’d seemed tense and not exactly on board with the surrogacy – or maybe he only just had a problem with you. Oh god.

You were spiralling again. Damn hormones and anxiety.

Nevertheless, there was something there and Jimin confessing that they’d been close to this moment before had answered your questions – sure. But that didn’t mean that Taehyung’s doubts had magically disappeared by finding out that you were pregnant. It was hard to read him and you guess that his apology must be to keep things civil between you all.

After all, he was the father of the baby.

“Are we going to stand here or go up to your apartment anytime soon?”

Wait, what? You stare at Jimin, surprised that he wants to actually come in to your place.

“That won’t- I’m okay to go up myself. You already d-drove me all the way here.” To the dingier part of town,you wanted to add. But as usual, he’s having none of it.

“Also not up for negotiation.” His hand is up again to stop the protest that had been ready on the tip of your tongue. “We are going to be seeing a lot of each other now so it only makes sense that we know where you live in case of emergencies.”

“Oh. Okay I guess… that makes sense.” You try not to make too much eye contact with his smiling face while you walk towards your apartment building. Afraid the drop in your smile will be too obvious.

They wanted to make sure that your place was adequate enough for you to be staying during your pregnancy. The stupid butterflies in your stomach were always fooling you in to believing that their requests and gestures were something that they definitely were not– about you. They were paying a fortune – probably not to them – for this child. You would want to know everything from A to Z as well.

Silently, you’re leading Jimin and Taehyung – who’d slipped out of the car after Jimin had sent him a look – inside the old apartment building and to your apartment that is on the third floor. Luckily, the lift in the building seems to not be out of order – for once – and you’re unlocking the front door in no time.

Jimin is quietly inspecting every corridor and wall but with a gentle curious smile on his face – unlike Taehyung who’s just following Jimin, currently tapping away at his phone. He’d seemed to be texting. You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel insulted or upset because it’s not like he was your friend or anything.

It was all just fine.

“Home sweet home,” you murmur, letting Jimin inside the small apartment, not needing to raise your voice too much in order for him to hear you. Yes; your place was quite the tiny charmer.

“Kind of exactly what I expected,” his smile drops when he takes in your sheepish expression. “Oh, honey no, I didn’t mean it like that. What I mean is-”

“Babe, I have to take this call so meet me back in the car once you’re done. Y/N.” Taehyung only nodded at you as his goodbye, while Jimin is shooting daggers in his direction when he’s already left – without so much as setting a foot in your apartment. Jimin though, is turning to face you again, the charming smile back on his face.

“Ignore him for now. I’ll deal with him later.” You can only nod, looking down at your hands. Was your apartment really thatbad?

“I-I wasn’t feeling too good. It’s cleaner than this usually.” The nervous chuckle sounds the small place as you gesture towards the books spread across your coffee table and the three duvets strewn about on the couch where you’d been sleeping for most of yesterday – watching TV.

“Y/N,” Jimin’s warm hands have taken a hold of yours once more, demanding your eyes back on to his gentle face. You two stood close – especially when Jimin had taken another step in while he grasped your hands in his warm one – thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. The only other time you’d been this close to his face before had been in his car after your IUI. Actually, he might be even closer now because you can see the small freckles littering the tops of his cheeks.

He really was so darn beautiful.

“I love your apartment. What I meant before was that everything here just screams… you!” He’s laughing endearingly and it’s impossible not to let a small chuckle out as well. “And that,” eyes softening ever so slightly, “is beautiful.”

If the butterflies were doing the salsa before in your tummy – they had moved on to Zumba. Not even beginner’s level, but expert.

“T-Thank you. You’re just being nice.”

“No I’m not.” His reply is not even a second later as he stares at you. When you start fidgeting again, he’s letting go of your hands to reach inside the massive trench coat’s pocket to retrieve a pharmacy paper bag.

“Here. These are your morning sickness tablets. You remember what Dr. Klarna said about these?” He makes sure handing them to you as you nod firmly.

“Good. The pharmacist told me there is a leaflet inside as well so have a read if you’re not sure.” Then he’s shaking his head as if snapping himself out of a thought. “Actually just give me a call, okay? I will-”

“I can read a leaflet Jimin,” your teasing smile has him sighing as he says a ‘sorry’ sheepishly.

“I’m not a kid,” you point at your belly, exaggerating the gesture while your eyes go wide, “I’m just makinga kid.” And your attempt at humour isn’t wasted as Jimin’s eyes are turning in to crescent moons from the intensity with which he’s laughing, throwing his head back while simultaneously throwing himself at you.

The sound is so pure that you’re laughing along with him, slightly startled as you catch his hands that had been grabbing for you. And as soon as his laughter has simmered down to a wide smile, he’s pulling your frame in to his own. Time seems to be slowing down or your own perception of it is significantly slowed when you feel one of his arms sliding around your waist to pull you closer while the other is going to your head – holding it close to his chest.

“Thank you, Y/N.” The deep breath he takes in pushes his chest to you even more as it expands. “I know I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. This means so much to us. And we will be here for you every step of this journey.”

His words can be heard clearly because he’s speaking so close to your ear. But the mention of them is what’s finally shaking you out of your frozen position to wrap your arms around him as well, returning his hug.

And for a moment, you two stay that way, just holding each other. Your mind screaming at you that this little moment will be ingrained in your brain for far longer and mean to you too much compared to Jimin. He was merely showing his gratitude but silly you – your weak heart was fooling itself that this wasn’t merely an era in your life.

Finally, he’s pulling away, smoothing the stray strands on your head as he inspects your face for any apprehension. Thankfully – you’re concentrating hard enough on evening out your breathing that you don’t get nervous at his inspection.

“I know Taehyung doesn’t seem like his heart is into this, but it is. He just needs some time.” He sighs before continuing, “My Taehyungie is very sensitive despite the rough exterior. So the wound’s still fresh from the last time.” His sad smile is making your heart ache too and instead of questioning him about what exactly had happened last time – you just squeeze his hand in yours for just a brief second – any longer and you’d be acting weird again because of the darn butterflies – to reassure him that it was okay.

His phone is buzzing in his pocket and somehow you already have guessed that it must be Taehyung. “I’ll be going then. Take care of yourself, y/n.”

“And call me if there is any problem, okay? Okay?” He has to repeat himself when you don’t reply the first time before finally mumbling a yes through the smile that’s permanently plastered on your face whenever Jimin is around.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Your heart is going crazy when he steps forward again, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Goodnight.” One last caress to your cheek and he’s out the door while you slam it shut to slump against it.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Was this how it was when you had a crush? But you’ve had crushes before and not once had you felt like your heart will come out of your mouth from just a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Why couldn’t have those two been ugly?!

Ugh. Not fair. You didn’t know about Taehyung – although that was slowly changing whenever he wasn’t so mean to you – but Jimin; you needed to not just stare at him like -Bambi whenever he initiated any contact. Maybe it was a gay thing? Hm.

That’s all that you ponder for the rest of the night as you make yourself pasta while watching Looneytunes – you were a big cartoon watcher okay?! You admit it. That was the stereotype right? That gay people are super friendly and touchy? Or were you being totally offensive by thinking that? Because Taehyung didn’t fit that description at all. If you hadn’t met him at the surrogacy clinic, you in fact would’ve thought he was those typical ‘im-always-angry-because-real-men-never-smile-because-its-gay.’

Okay you needed to stop thinking about the men you were potentially falling hard for – surprise, surprise – because thinking about them was not going to help your case at all.

Just as you’re finishing the last noodle of the fettucine that you’d made for dinner – your phone pings. You groan remembering that you left it on the counter and even though it’s not exactly that far away – you still had to get up. Which wasn’t fun.

Park Jimin [9:37 PM]: Hi love, have you eaten dinner?  

A silly smile is finding its way to your face before you know it, the annoying butterflies resurfacing at the term of endearment he seemed to have made a habit of using with you.

You [9:38 PM]: Hello! Just finished :)

It hadn’t even been that long since Jimin and Taehyung had left but of course, he was already texting you to make sure you were okay.

Park Jimin [9:39 PM]: Good :) How are you feeling?

You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully – the dumb smile still on your face.

You [9:39 PM]: I’m fine Jimin. Promise!

Contemplating if you should send the next text you’ve typed for a few minutes – you finally send it Jimin.

You [10:02 PM]: Is Taehyung okay?

Park Jimin [10:05 PM]: Okay. You will call me if you’re not, right? Also yes. He is okay :) Don’t worry about him.

You [10:06 PM]: I will!! Goodnight Jimin.

Park Jimin [10:06]: Goodnight sweetheart.

And just like that, your heart is fluttering at how gentle and caring Jimin is. He’s known you for not even a month and yet, it feels like he’s been a part of your life forever. You put your plates in the dishwasher, putting the leftovers in the fridge and wash up before going to bed. You hated having the dishes sitting in the sink overnight because they started to stink rather quickly. And with how small your apartment was, you could smell the stench come morning. Especially now that you were particularly sensitive to smells because of the pregnancy.

You’ve just settled on the couch again, washed and in your pajamas, smothered in about three blankets ready to fall asleep on the couch while watching ‘Get Out.’ A girl at work had told you that it was good so you decided to watch it tonight. About halfway in the movie, your phone pings again and this time thankfully – it’s right beside you. But the late time at which the person on the other end had texted you isn’t what’s making your eyes wide, it is fact the texter ID.

It’s a text from Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung [11:15 PM]: I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. I hope you sleep well. Goodnight, y/n.

It’s an unexpected turn to your night, for sure and you can’t help but lay back down on the soft couch, contemplating what should you even say to him. He didn’t exactly phrase his words in a way for you to continue on with the conversation. And this is the first time he’s texted you at all in the weeks that you’ve been talking to Jimin. Maybe Jimin told him to text you?

Sighing, you just turn your attention to the TV once more, letting the movie take your mind off of what’s going on with Taehyung and sometime in the next hour – you’re fast asleep.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next few weeks go surprisingly smooth. Not many mood swings or morning sickness. Jimin and Taehyung had been coming over to your place every week to make sure everything in the house was stocked and that you were able to look after yourself while the two men were busy with their respective jobs. At first you’d tried to fight your way out of the pampering until you realise that it was pertinently stated in the contract, that they would be the ones to provide you for anything – given that the child that you’re carrying is theirs and not your own.

Jimin had come over more often – unsurprisingly – while Taehying had only accompanied him. He may not be as comfortable as Jimin with you but he’s significantly developed a softer attitude as each week passed. Maybe it was finally settling in that you weren’t going anywhere and he didn’t have to worry about you bailing on them since you were already pregnant. Your suspicions had been confirmed when Taehyung had shown up outside your apartment door with a pint of caramel ice-cream in hand as well as a can of whipped cream one evening – with a sheepish grin on his face.

You usually had groceries coming in for delivery – both of them had insisted that each week’s produce and other items will be delivered to your door so you could consume the maximum amount of nutritional food. They’d also asked you to send in a list of extra things – or as Taehyung called it “discretionary” foods, pft – that you wanted and send it in to Jimin and he’s make sure it was added to each box you had delivered. But this week you’d started to have the weird and random cravings, sore breasts, nausea and fatigue that you’d been told you’d start to feel around the 5 week mark. Conveniently, just the week you’d decided to skip on ice cream being added to that list – you were craving it.

You were 6 weeks pregnant at this point and your hormones were going crazy. Hence the lack of hesitation when you’d opened up your phone, furiously typing a message to Jimin to add ice cream to the next week’s list because you couldn’t imagine living without ice cream for another week! Thankfully it was Friday and you should be getting your groceries delivered tomorrow. So when Taehyung had shown up at your door with ice cream, in his fancy suit with a vest underneath the jacket looking like every bit an out of towner in your dingy apartment complex – you’d been surprised to say the least.

“M-Mr. Kim?” He’s just sending you a slightly puzzled smile and you wonder if it’s because of how you’d addressed him. He’d never asked you to call him anything else before so you’re not sure why he’s surprised now.

“Hi, y/n.” He’s holding up the plastic bag up, eyebrows raised, “heard you were wanting ice cream?” When you continue to stare dumbly at him, wondering how he knew – you didn’t think Jimin would tell him considering how busy Taehying always was.

Then it hits you and your own eyes go wide. “D-Did I send that message to you?” Oh god. You even added about ten exclamation marks, sounding nothing like the polite and formal tempo you’d set with Taehyung on the few occasions you’d messaged him.

His playful chuckle – are you hearing this right? Did Taehyung just show emotions other than his decorous disposition towards you? – confirms that you indeed did text Taehyung instead of Jimin. Oh lord.

“Are you going to invite me in or?” You’re mumbling a sorry, a blush creeping up your neck to pool in your cheeks when you realise you’re wearing your very worn pyjama pants and an oversized sweatshirt because of the cold – and you didn’t exactly have heating other than your tiny heater that you’d got from a second-hand store. Your hair is up in a messy bun and you’re thankful that you’d at least pushed yourself up enough to brush your teeth.

Taehyung sets the ice cream on the kitchen counter, taking in the state that your house was currently in – not too bad because you hadn’t moved around much to make it messy. You’d been a couch potato this week. ‘The Shining’ is on the TV and once again, blankets are piled up on the couch, which you hastily shove aside so he can have seat. Taehyung had been in your apartment a couple more times in the last month or so but not for long. Now that you come to think of it, he’d be out by this time now, waiting for Jimin to get back to the car like usual.

“The Shining? Good movie.” His vigorous nodding perks you up – that’s right! You remember that Jimin had said Taehyung enjoyed horror movies.

“Yeah! I just put it on actually…”

“And the ice cream was for this too I assume?” He’s craning his neck to the side to where you stood, leaning against the counter, a grin on his handsome face once more. And just like that, the stupid butterflies are back again. Ugh!

You can’t wait for this baby to be big enough inside you so these butterflies can all be pushed out! Your gaze lingers everywhere but him as you push a stray strand back behind your ear, a nervous chuckle escaping.

“W-Well, I’ve just been craving it actually…,” You look up and find him still staring at you, “my hormones have been kind of crazy.” You shrug, still slightly shy admitting it and you don’t know why. This was supposed to happen and it wasn’t anything to be ashamed off. After all, it was hisbaby that was making you all out of whack.

“I figured as much. Come, sit with me,” he gestures beside him, casually as if you’ve done this so many times before. Your heart is going crazy again because first of all, Taehyung in his suit, looking every bit a GQ model is not exactly going to help you calm your breathing and secondly; sitting that close to him on your small sofa – it was a three seater but Taehyung’s thighs took up almost all of the second seat too – was surely going to have you mute.

The man was as handsome as he was intimidating. The complete opposite of his lovely partner – that you’d gotten quite close with - who just radiated this energy that people flocked to him because of his friendly nature. Nonetheless, you walk over, taking the longer way around the coffee table in front of the couch to go sit on the other side. And just like you’d suspected, Taehyung had been watching you the whole time, with a slight smirk on his face.

“Are you alright y/n? How are you feeling this week?”

“I-I’m alright. Just a bit of nausea and feeling sore-” you leave out the body part that you’re feeling sore in, “but mostly just tired.” He’s nodding along, leg crossed over his other while his hand rested behind on the edge of the couch, looking every bit comfortable and might you add – sexy. Maybe these were your hormones again. You needed to rail yourself in. After a few seconds of silence you speak again.

“You didn’t have to Mr. Ki-”

“You know you can call me Taehyung, right?” His kind smile is something slightly foreign to you because the only times you’d seen him look this relaxed and happy had been with Jimin. Just when you’d been hoping your face wouldn’t be as flushed as it felt a moment ago – you can feel it getting hot again. Something about addressing him with his name that you’d only ever heard Jimin address him with – his lover – seems… personal. Intimate.

Or maybe your hormones are making you overthink everything. Yup. Probably that…

“Okay… Taehyung.” You don’t make eye contact with him as you say it but nod along to confirm that you would do as he said.

“Jimin has rehearsals today at the academy. They have a show coming up in a few weeks so he wouldn’t have been able to read your text until after he got home.” Oh that’s right. Jimin was a dance teacher at the large ballet academy that you’d forgotten the name of.

“Oh.”

“So I hope you don’t mind that I’m here instead?” This time, his smile isn’t a teasing but an unsure one.

“Of course not! Y-You’re welcome anytime it’s just that…,” you’re fiddling with your fingers again as you try to find the words to say what you wanted to without sounding like you had any complaints.  

“That I haven’t exactly been too forthcoming?” he sighs, averting his gaze for the first time, biting his lip apprehensively before looking up at your surprised face, “I realise that. And I want to apologise.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle and you’re not sure what to say. He left you speechless quite often, you noted. “I seem to have only apologized to you ever since we met.”

“It’s okay.” The reply was automatic on your end. It’s just the way you’d been raised and how you felt when you sensed if someone was feeling distraught at themselves. Even if you didn’t mean it and would say it in the moment to make the other feel better. But strangely enough, Taehyung’s apathetic attitude these past few weeks – with a soft smile here and there – doesn’t affect the sincerity behind your words. This was a lot for you. And for someone to be a father for the first time, it must be a lot for him too.

Or maybe you were too trusting and forgiving. Only time will tell.

“No it’s not. I… realise that my past experiences have clouded my judgement to the point where I haven’t been giving you the level of respect I should. Especially for someone who is doing something so substantial for my family. And I know you’re going to mention that you are being paid but,” he turns his body towards you, hand reaching out for your own that is still fiddling in your lap, “that doesn’t take away the fact that for the time being, we’re connected in a way that,” his eyes shift to your stomach before looking back up to your face again, “I need to be more supportive and attentive to you. For the sake of my child at least.”

You both stare at each other for the next few seconds. Him just tentatively looking at you to try and read your face, the way you’d react or if you’ve any negative emotions towards his confession. But you’re just trying to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes, internally screaming for them to go back inside so you don’t embarrass yourself. And the gentle way he holds your hand in his large one to relay his sincerity is not helping when you’re feeling incredibly emotional after his little speech. Your lips are starting to tremble and you’re looking up at the ceiling, hoping that the tears won’t fall and straight away Taehyung is moving even closer to you – your hand still in his own.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” he’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, trying to catch a glimpse at your face that’s looking down at your lap again and the tears have started to escape your eyes. Soon enough, you’re becoming a mess as you shake your head at him.

“I-It’s not your fault. The stupid hormones,” wiping at your eyes proves no use because they keep coming and Taehyung has now started to rub the tops of your thighs soothingly as well – completely for comfort purposes, as he looks at you in concern.

“It’s alright darling. It’s okay. I’m right here.” And that’s why you’re crying, you realise. Because he is finally thereand has finally accepted that you’re with his child and not going anywhere. And has said that he is here for you. You’d thought that you could get through this whole process with or without Taehyung’s involvement past the biological aspect because really; they were both providing you with everything you could possibly need during your pregnancy. The food, the money spent and pretty much any other financial help you needed until your due date. But you never thought that his emotional support, him finally coming around and admitting to wanting to be there for you as well as Jimin would mean so much to the point that you’d be reduced to a sniffling mess as you tried to cry as silently possible.

When Taehyung pulls you close, resting your head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around you in a gentle, soothing hug; the waterworks continue and you can’t even stop the tiny sobs from escaping.

“I’m so sorry. I’m ruining your nice shirt.” The words are muffled and you get a nice breath in of his cologne that makes you want to snuggle in to him even further. Your hormones are going hayward that your mind had temporarily forgotten to freak out about being in his arms.

“It’s alright, love. Everything is okay. Cry all you want to.” His hands are patting your back before one moves in to your hair to massage your scalp slightly – much like Jimin had done once before. And the thought of Jimin has you calming down slowly, realising that you were hugging Taehyung – his partner who had barely given you the time of the day other than a casual and polite greeting.

So you pull away, wiping your face as best as you can snapping out of your pathetic meltdown. “I’m okay. Sorry. I’ve been crying for no reason lately.” Taehyung only smiles gently at you, hand still playing with your hair, eyebrows raised in question.

“Really. I’m not kidding. Today the mailman didn’t respond to my goodbye and I cried for ten minutes afterwards thinking he hated me.” You pout. At that, Taehyung’s lips are stretching in a wide smile exposing his teeth in a boxy grin as he lets out the most adorable chuckle for such a big man.

You must have been staring at him like a creep again – not your fault, he was too damn beautiful – because he’s getting up from your sofa and walking over to the kitchen after taking his blazer off, hanging it on the back of a dining table chair in the kitchen. You almost wanted to tell him not to because it just looked so damn expensive.

“Well,” fishing out the pint of ice cream from the plastic bag, “caramel sundae ought to make you feel better, hm?”

And again, you just stare. Maybe you nod? You don’t recall because it’s so strange for Taehyung to be in your apartment let alone trying to find a spoon to bring the tub over to you. But you decide to enjoy the moment while it lasted and not question it too much. He’d seemed sincere enough before so you give him the benefit of the doubt once more.

“Didn’t you have work? You didn’t have to come all the way over…” He motions you to sit back down just as you’re about to get up and help him.

“I took off early today,” He smirks your way, opening the pint lid, “just one of the perks of being the boss’s son. Plus, it’s the weekend. I can have a late night.” Wait, did he plan to stay at yours for longer?

Taehyung takes a seat beside you, handing you the ice cream – which you take while mumbling a shy ‘thank you’ – and pulls out his phone. When he doesn’t say anything further and is scrolling through something on the phone, you just turn your attention back on the TV, oddly enjoying watching the horror flick with him beside you – even though he’s not even paying attention – more than you thought you would. Maybe it’s just because you have someone other than yourself to be around for a change. Hm.

But after a few minutes, you can’t help but ask, “Are…are you s-staying for dinner?” Crap. If he is then you’re in trouble. You haven’t made anything or even prepped for a meal yet and it’s already 7:47PM.

His inquisitive eyes look over at yours in question, “Is it okay if I do? Jimin had been over a lot and I… I think it’ll be good if we spend some time like that too.” Damn these butterflies. If you weren’t pregnant, you’d try smacking your stomach!

“I-It’s completely fine! Really. I’ll get started on some-” he puts his hand on yours for the second time that night, stopping you from getting up.

“I’ll order us something. What are you in the mood for?” His face tells you that he won’t be taking no for an answer so you just settle back down, kind of relieved and kind of trying to stop a pout from forming on your face.

“Pizza….hut?” Judging from Taehyung’s expression, you know he’s trying to hold back a smile as he shakes his head, propping the phone up to his ear while he looks at you.

“Pizza Hut it is then.” You can’t stop the little clap you do with your hands because let’s be honest – pizza hut was better than dominoes. You’d fight anyone you disagreed.

“Spicy veg and barbeque chicken pizza. With extra cheese. Oh! And wings too!” Okay you needed to calm down. You were way too enthusiastic about this order when Taehyung had lifted his eyebrows in question to ask what you’d wanted. But currently, he was placing the order, still trying to hide the smile on his face.

“All done.” You frown.

“You didn’t order anything for yourself?” His eyes go wide at you.

“You can eat all of that by yourself?” Now it was your turn to hide your face, hoping he didn’t see the blush on your face. Because yes. Yes you can. But you don’t tell him that though he’s already on the phone again, adding a Hawaiian pizza to the order.

“You didn’t have to do this you know…,”

“Y/N,” you look up at him when his tone changes to a sterner one that you haven’t heard yet tonight, “I wanted to. Now we’re going to eat pizza and watch the shinning. I suppose you’re okay with that?”

You only stare down in your lap, not being able to keeping holding his gaze when he looks at you like that. God, these men were confusing. You sometimes forget they’re gay. “I suppose I am.”

“Y/n,” you look up from the glass of water you’re drinking at the moment, “your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” He gestures to the half-eaten pizza and the three wings you had out of the 8 he ordered. And that was just the order you claimed to be yours.

Standing up, you shrug nonchalantly before excusing yourself to the bathroom. Despite the weeks of Taehyung’s indifferent behaviour, it surprisingly didn’t take long for you to start feeling comfortable around him and not jump or stutter every time he spoke to you or when your hands accidently touched trying to grab the pizza. But you were happy and feeling relaxed. Much better than before.

Or so you’d thought. Because the next thing you feel is the acid rising up your throat, mouth filling with saliva before the contents of your stomach are emptying in the toilet bowl – thankfully you’d just had to bend a little to the side before you could make a mess. The sounds of you retching can probably be heard outside due to the knocking you hear a second later and Taehyung’s voice asking if you’re alright.

You want to not worry him, trying to reply and tell him that you’re fine but once again, you’re gagging before bending over the toilet again.

“Y/N-” hands have now gathered your hair back for you as Taehyung stands beside you while you vomit your guts out.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” You can’t help but mumble a ‘sorry’ continuously as you straighten up, slightly wobbly on your feet but Taehyung is quick to slip an arm around your waist to steady you. The embarrassment is already coming up to show evidently on your face knowing you literally just did the second most disgusting thing you can be caught doing in front of a person that isn’t your partner. First being pooping.

“I-I’m so sorry I’m- I’m okay now I just-” You don’t bother finishing your sentence because you’re not sure where you were going with it. Instead, you wash your face as Taehyung flushes the toilet and stands back behind you in the small bathroom. You can see him in the mirror while you do so and you can tell he’s probably debating whether or not he should stay there with you in case you empty your stomach again with the worried look on his face.

“Y-You can go. I’ll be right out.” You hope the soft tone eases his worries a little but it doesn’t seem like it.

“I am very comfortable here. Take your time. I just don’t want you fainting in the bathroom.” You’re not sure how you have the energy to scoff at his juvenile treatment of you as you rinse the toothpaste from your mouth.

Spinning around to glare at his matter of fact tone as if you were a child, you try to speak but don’t get far unfortunately.

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly fine. It was p-probably just bad…bad p-p-” and then you’re stumbling as you walk past Taehyung who had been listening to your speech with a sceptically raised eyebrow. But instead of the ground, you’re falling into strong arms because Taehyung had somehow managed to jump forward from behind, trapping you in his arms to break your fall.

“Mhm. You’re quite alright, I do see that.” His teasing tone doesn’t go unnoticed and if you could see his face you’d probably glare at him again. But feeling his warm body behind you, chest firm but comfortable enough that butterflies are going crazy in your stomach. You don’t know where this confidence is coming from but your mind is pleasantly hazy enough that you’re falling back in his chest and in reflex, Taehyung’s strong, tan arms are tightening around your waist to keep you steady.

“Ooookay,” His surprised tone tells you he wasn’t actually expecting you to faint or even just fall in to him just like that. “I’m going to put you to bed now, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he spins you around slowly and you let him because your head is kinda spinny. You let out a yelp of surprise as he pick you up, bridal style and walks to your room slowly. Your hands have already found purchase on his shoulders to hold on but you don’t protest; instead, you cuddle closer to his chest and you can feel him physically stiffen up. But present you was not very aware of your surroundings.

Feeling the soft bed beneath you, you cuddle in to the next thing you can find beside you which at first, is Taehyung – unsurprisingly, however you don’t know that. And as gently as he can, he tries to pry your arms off of him before losing the battle and opting to sit beside you on the bed while you cuddle his arm, eyes closed.

“You don’t have to stay.” You hope he hears your mumble and he must’ve because you hear a chuckle in the distance as your brain is currently in a nice cloudy buzz.

“Of course. Because you’re just fine, hm?”

“Mhmm…” When you feel the blankets being pushed up to your chin, safely tucking you in the warmth of their fluffy material – you’re dozing off in no time.

Taehyung watches you until he can hear your breathing even, no fluttering eyes behind your lids and your hold loosening on his arm. When he is positive that you are asleep, he gently removes his hand from your grip. Stalling in the door of your bedroom, he can’t help but watch your peaceful face, suspended in a deep sleep; looking every bit pure that you were when he’d first seen you in that clinic. You’d looked so out of place in the pristine bistro afterwards when he’d met you for the second time. All wide eyes and nervous smiles at every stranger that passed you. You were the kind of good person that everyone took advantage of.

You were to trusting, too helpful, too friendly for your own good and he hated it. He hated knowing that people would take advantage of your goodness and you’d be too damn wholesome– too trusting to realise it until it will be too late. And somehow, he felt like he was taking advantage of you. Taking advantage of your circumstances – despite knowing that he was paying you to do this – and roping you in to this agreement because he’d had a feeling that someone as young as you, with no relatives or anyone of importance in your life to talk some sense in to you or deter you from making this decision – would be perfect to fulfil the ridiculous clause in his father’s will that he must have a biological child to be able to inherit the business with his other brothers.

He knew that at some point, you would become attached to the child in your belly, become too invested in its future and wanting to be a part of it that it might even break you when it came to saying goodbye. And the worst part? He had already accepted all of it. He knew you would never think of trying to become a part of the child’s – or his – life due to the contract you had all signed. You followed principles and you were doing a good deed for a couple in need – or at least that’s what he thinks you probably believe. It wasn’t as if it was a lie. It was mostly true but the biggest part was his father’s will. And Jimin had been all the more ready to have children ever since he had started to volunteer his time teaching dance to children in orphanages.

His thoughts are interrupted and he is almost relieved from falling further down the rabbit hole of guilt when he hears the ringing of his phone from the living room. Knowing that the sound echoed through the small apartment, Taehyung carefully closes the door 90% of the way – in case you woke up and needed him again. Fishing out his phone from his blazer, a smile is automatically finding its way across his face, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey baby.”

“TaeTae! How are you? Have you had dinner? Are you home?” Jimin’s barrage of questions only make him lean his head back against the fridge, resting his head on his as he rolls his eyes at his over-protecting boyfriend.

“I’m good. Yes I have, and no I’m not.”

“Huh? Where are you then?”

“At Y/n’s.” Jimin is silent on the other end for a few seconds before he speaks again.

“That’s…. unexpected.” Jimin doesn’t say much else afterwards so Taehyung takes this as his cue to speak again.

“I figured I should interact with her more. I’ve been kind of… acting like an ass-”

“Yup.”

“So I came to apologise.” Taehyung continues, ignoring Jimin’s interruption, “But after having dinner – pizza hut by the way,” Taehyung can hear Jimin laugh lightly, “She threw up. Twice.”

Jimin stops laughing as soon as Taehyung mentions your episode.

“Oh my god, is she okay? No wonder she hadn’t replied to my texts. She always does before 10pm” At that, Taehyung can’t help but feel slightly annoyed that Jimin is undoubtedly closer to you than him. But then he remembers it’s his own fault.

“She is, I think? She almost fell over too – I think she might have been close to fainting.”

“Oh god,” Jimin’s worried voice repeats.

“One more thing; is she… super touchy with you?” Taehyung needed to confirm.

“Why?” Jimin sounds just as sceptical as Taehyung from earlier.

“Well,” Taehyung takes a breath in, “She kind of took my arm hostage and didn’t let go until she fell asleep.” After a few seconds, Jimin is bursting out in laughter once again and Taehyung can’t help but roll his eyes at his boyfriend who loves to not answer his questions quickly.

Impatiently, Taehyung is waiting for Jimin to stop snickering, “Well?”

“No she isn’t. In fact, she’s usually shyer than me when you came up to ask me out.” Taehyung can’t help but smirk at that memory of Jimin; bright eyes and blushy cheeks whenever Taehyung stared for too long. Now that he’s thinking about it – you were a lot like Jimin.

“Well then, she wasn’t that way just now. She’s asleep though.”

“Babe, what do you expect? She’s pregnant. It must be the hormones and the vomiting too.”

Ahh, of course. How could he forget?

“You really can be dumb for someone who went to Stanford for his undergrad.”

“Oh shut up. How was the dance practice?”

“It went fantastic. Thankfully I don’t have to be present for the final reruns so I’m on my way home right now.” Taehyung’s heart is swelling at the thought of seeing Jimin earlier than he’d expected.

“That’s wonderful. Can’t wait to see you.” He can almost hear the smile stretching across Jimin’s face, both of them quietening ever so slightly giving in to their longing for each other. It had been a few days since Taehyung had seen Jimin due to the strict practice schedule.

“Can’t wait to see you too, my love.” And then he just listens to Jimin tell him about his day; loving every second of it. Jimin was his escape.

“Should I come over to you? I think we should keep an eye on her since the next few weeks will be quite tough for her.” Taehyung looks around, contemplating whether it’s a good idea for the three of you to be staying in your cramped apartment. He knew you would probably fight him over this decision but…

“Come over for tonight. We’ll take her to our place in the morning. She will most likely listen to you more than me.” Taehyung admits sheepishly and Jimin is no better at making him feel better when he laughs in agreement.

The first thing you notice when your eyes flutter open is that you’re not on your couch. Secondly, your mouth is drier than chalk and you’re tucked in a way that your own mother used to when you were young. The blankets are up to your chin, nestled just beneath as if to let you breathe comfortably while the rest of your body is nuzzled warmly in your bed. You’ve never slept this tucked in yourself. Unless…

Springing up in to a sitting position was the first mistake you make that morning because your head is spinning for a few seconds before your eyes focus again. Apart from that, you feel okay enough to climb out of bed, carefully getting up. Your eyebrows furrow when you spot that the door to your bedroom has been partially shut.

Did Taehyung sleep over? You heart is jumpstarting in your chest like a motorcycle engine and you have to stay still for a couple of seconds trying to remember what had happened last night. You know that you told him to leave if he wanted to… right?

Still, to be cautious, you tread carefully, knowing that the wooden floors of your apartment creaked and if Taehyung was indeed still here – he might wake up. You carefully open the door slightly more before slipping through the space and step in to the living room. You can’t really see much from where you stood so you walk a little further to see if Taehyung was sleeping on the couch. You wince remembering it wasn’t the most comfortable to spend the whole night on.

And peering forward is the second mistake you make that morning. Because when you do, you find not one but two sets of legs entwined. Jimin’s blonde head is thrown back on the arm rest while Taehyung’s head of black hair rests on his chest as well as one of his legs is thrown over Jimin’s hip. He’s holding Jimin tightly; clutching him like you would a giant teddy bear despite Jimin being the smaller of the two. Jimin’s hand is wrapped loosely around Taehyung and both of them look so beautiful and sweet that you could throw up.

In fact, you doneed to throw up. Keeping the noise down is all but forgotten as you run back to the bathroom, gagging and coughing until you’re vomiting again.

“Y/N!” You can hear Jimin call for you as you keep yourself bent over to make sure that you’re not about to vomit again. He’s now standing right where Taehyung had been last night, watching with wide worried eyes while he rubs your back, pushing the stray strands of hair – just like Taehyung had – back whenever they fall in front again.

You’re heaving by the time you straighten up and rinse your mouth after brushing your teeth. Jimin had left a few minutes ago when you’d insisted that you needed to use the bathroom. Gosh. You hated vomiting. It was so exhausting and all you wanted to do was just sit on the toilet because of how drained you felt. But when there is another knock on the door, you meekly get up, wash your hands and open the door.

Immediately, Jimin is by your side and his hand is reaching up to your face while the other guides you to the sofa – which is now vacant as Taehyung had slipped past you both to the bathroom. “How are you feeling right now honey?”

His worried eyes seem more like those of a puppy and suddenly you have the urge to cuddle him. He was the epitome of softness with his dishevelled hair, slightly swollen face from sleep and the comfortable clothes he wore – sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“I-I’m just a bit dizzy. This must be the morning sickness.” You can’t help the pout in your words but Jimin is just pushing your hair back from your face as he smiles his signature gentle smile at you, instantly soothing all your nerves while simultaneously making you blush at the way he’s looking at you.

“Yes it is. I’m sorry; I wish I could make it go away.” Your face contorts in to a confused one.

“Wouldn’t that be a bad sign?” His eyes are almost closing when he chuckles at you, pinching your cheeks and making them redder than before.

“Not exactly. That’s what the tablets Dr. Klarna gave us are for.”

“Ohh,” you nod in understanding and remember that she did indeed give you something for your morning sickness. But before you forget.

“W-When did you get here?” You hope you don’t sound like you didn’t want him to be there because you did! Your mood always became infinitely better when Jimin was around. He was probably the only close friend you had at the moment.

“Last night. Taehyung told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I ampregnant.” You point out with your eyebrows raised and pursed lips. At which Jimin just laughs.

“Yes you are,” leaning forward, wiping the smirk off your face when he nuzzles his nose with yours, heart speeding up, “And I couldn’t be happier.”

“Replaced me already, huh? Knew I couldn’t trust you.” His smirk is teasing but he only looks at Jimin.

Both of your faces spin towards the deep voice that comes from near the bathroom. Taehyung’s face is slightly rosy from washing his face probably and in the daylight; he looks even more striking. For once you’re sad that you’re not the only one gawking at him because Jimin hasn’t moved an inch either, both of you dumbly staring at him as he walks over to the kitchen, picking up his phone from the dining table.

“And you call me an attention seeker.” Jimin is quick to bite back, picking up a cushion and throwing at Taehyung who yelps, giving Jimin a playfully stern stare.

And you can’t help but smile and giggle along, watching the two interact. It was bittersweet watching them lost in their own world. On one hand it was gratifying to witness their unconditional and easy-going love for each other. Knowing that real love really did exist and it wasn’t just in the movies. But on the other hand – it awoke this restlessness in you that you didn’t know before. For someone to care for you like Jimin and Taehyung did for each other. For someone to tease you playfully the way they both did each other before tackling one another in hugs and kisses. Despite being together for 7 years; watching them still seemed like they were in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

“Y/N?”

“Huh? Sorry what?” Jimin snickers at your blinking face. You notice that he’s started to mix flour, milk and eggs and everything else you’d need for pancakes – in a bowl.

“Where do you go off to huh? Are we that dreary to be around?” Taehyung is asking you with a tilt to his head, genuinely curious.

“Um, speak for yourself. She never has her eyes off of me when we hang out. Right Y/N?” Your blush and a bite of your bottom lip has him smiling in victory at Taehyung who’s rolling his eyes at him. Instead of sitting and being subjected to any more comments that might make you blush even more – which was probably going to happen again anyway – you walk to the kitchen and take out jam, maple syrup, whipped cream and fruit from the fridge for the pancakes.

“Y/N, hey, no.” He looks at you pointedly putting a pan on the stove, “you go sit. I’ll do this and Taehyungie here,” he looks pointedly at Taehyung who’d been on his phone, “will help.”

“Jimin, no,” you put your hands up to stop him, “It’s fine. I am fine and I can help. B-Besides, you’re the guest here. In my house.” And Taehyung had taken enough care of you last night but you don’t say that out loud.

But thankfully, Jimin doesn’t push it further and lets you slice strawberries and bananas. And all of you spend your morning in a comfortable, incongruous routine that seems it was the norm for you three. Jimin seems to bring out the more playful side of Taehyung and it was so refreshing to see the seemingly more staid of the two let go and lower his guard the way you’d briefly seen him do last night.

It had taken some time for you to agree when Jimin and Taehyung had sat you down – after making you eat too many pancakes you would usually eat and taking the morning sickness tablet – and proposed that you move in with them until the worst of the morning sickness had passed and you wouldn’t need to have someone look after you. When you’d insisted that you were just fine looking after yourself, you’d gone and vomited once more, feeling the absolute worst afterwards. You’d clung to Jimin afterwards like a koala and he’d – damn his dimple and his adorable smile! – coaxed you in to coming with them. In your sleepy and lethargic state, you’d relented and agreed.

That had been a month and a bit ago. Currently you were reaching 13 weeks of pregnancy – most of which had blessed you with excruciatingly bad morning sickness that included vomiting and nausea throughout the day with only the tablets that Dr, Klarna had prescribed you providing some relief from the nausea. So yeah, moving in with Taehyung and Jimin had been a wise choice. Both men had been incredibly supportive and sometimes you thought about what it would be like if you had done this for another couple. Would they have been just as supportive, tending to your every need, giving you foot massages, listening to you cry at Disney movies and getting six different flavours of Ben and Jerry’s stocked in the fridge at all times in case you craved any of them?

Yeah. Your guess is no. You were also starting to show now with a slight bump poking through your slightly more fitted shirts or the polos you wore on the daily bases. Having your classes already started was also not the best when you hadn’t been feeling energetic enough to get out of bed and actually go to your classes. But thankfully, that wasn’t much of a problem because you only had about 3 subjects to finish for the last semester, one of them being an online course so you could study from home.

Taehyung’s large Victorian style mansion had been a shock to say the least. The man loved the historic structure and had it decorated with a plethora of paintings from his favourite artists while simultaneously maintaining a cozy enough feeling that you didn’t feel like you were in a hotel. Scratch that. You did feel like you were in a hotel. But only because Taehyung had a butler, a chef and a cleaning staff that took care of the large residence since Taehyung was not home most of the day. Jimin however, had more flexibility with his work and stayed with you a lot more than Taehyung was able to and it was something you appreciated. It would get lonely sometimes when none of them were home – which was rare because at least one of them was with you most of the days.

And while living with the happy couple was a dream for any woman – pregnant or not – there were times when you wished that you were back home at your tiny apartment, certainly not imagining their hands on you the same way they roamed on each other. You’d done some research to see when this hell of a phase of morning sickness would stop and the symptoms and had found out that some women experience an increase in their sex drive. And an increase it was. Even worse when one day you’d heard the delightful soft moans of Jimin’s melodious voice, reverberate from the living room.

You’d gotten up to go to the bathroom – you always had to pee at least ten times these days – in the middle of the night and just when you’d been passing through the corridor to go fetch a glass of water from the kitchen; you’d gotten a glimpse of a muscular bare back, holding on to the counter while the other held on to something beneath him. You’re not sure how you’d bitten back the gasp when you’d seen the familiar mop of black hair working Jimin’s hardened length as his hands held his thighs.

Your breathing was heavy and you were sweating, trying to move your gaze but all you could see was Jimin throwing his head back in pleasure as he fisted Taehyung’s hair, guiding him back and forth on his length until he climaxed with a small shout – muffled by his hand. It was clear that they were trying to be quite but you were dying to hear more. Your nipples had pebbled beneath the night shirt you wore as you watched Taehyung get up from the floor and finally come in to your slightly obscured view, from the other side of the counter only to take Jimin’s lips in a heated kiss as they claw at each other like they can’t get enough. Taehyung’s shirt is unbuttoned but not fully taken off, only giving you a glimpse of the smooth expanse of his pectorals and the outlines of his abdominals.

They both moan like they’re drinking the finest of wines and the taste is too much for them to not make some kind of noise. Annoyingly enough, you feel the same. Taehyung is pulling back Jimin’s head exposing his throat to his greedy eyes as he starts to lay down kisses and scratches from his teeth that you know you’d be able to see the evidence of, tomorrow. Your hands itch and your feet shuffle, hormones making your brain crazy enough to want to waltz in to the room and get on your knees to please them both.

“T-Tae. Baby. Fuck me. P-Please.” Jimin’s whine is so desperate – as desperate as you feel right now – and Taehyung is just cruelly smirking before grinding his hips into the elder’s center.

“You want my cock?” Jimin is nodding a yes, breathless and delirious as he runs his hands all over Taehyung’s chest beneath his shirt, trying to take it off. But when Taehyung flips Jimin around suddenly, you duck slightly to make sure he hasn’t seen you lurking. Jimin’s hands are holding on to the counter straight, head thrown forward. And from this view – you can see the defined lines of Jimin’s impressive body. He was sculpted like a professional dance you’d expected to be, the beautiful sheen to his skin making his look even more ethereal. And Taehyung looks none the more stunning. His hair a mess, unbuckling his belt with his bottom lip between his teeth, looking too in control given how gone Jimin was. And just when Jimin lets out a muffled shout from Taehyung thrusting forward, you let out a gasp of your own, the scene too erotic for you to remain silent.

You knock your knee against a wall just hard enough to make their heads turn and you’re scampering away as fast as you can back to your room praying to god above that they didn’t see you watching them. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest and your southern region is as clammy as a teenage boy after basketball practice. You wince at yourself and your poor attempt at a metaphor but you were aroused enough to do something irrational. And that, you do; even though you knew that their bedroom was only a few doors down from yours. So you spend the night with a hand between your legs, bringing yourself to climax over and over until your clitoris feels raw, your hand feels like it is going to get a cramp and your skin is sweaty enough that you may look like you’ve just taken a shower.

But still you’re not satiated. You slide your fingers inside the depths of your pussy over and over again, trying to muffle your moans just like Jimin had been. The image of the two men locked in a passionate embrace fuelling your risky and scandalous behaviour as you slide your hand under your shirt to ease the ache in your breast. Pinching and pulling on the hard little nubs until you’re whimpering and soiling the sheets with your sweet juices until sometime in the night, you’re off to dreamland.

What you hadn’t made sure of was the partially closed door that showed clearly and exactly what you’d been doing the night before when Taehyung comes to wake you up for breakfast. Wondering what’s taking him so long, Jimin walks up to where Taehyung stands, frozen on the spot, eyes trained directly at something – someone – in your bedroom.

“Babe, what are you doing just standing th- Oh..,”

Oh is about right. Because there you were, one hand still inside your pajamas, shirt ridden up, exposing your lovely distended belly bump as one side of your night shirt had slipped of your shoulder; sleeping soundly looking too much like a wicked temptation and an angel – all at once.

“Was she-” Taehyung’s mouth is dry as he stares at your body, swallowing the lump of desire in his throat. Jimin only takes a step forward, looking to the side at Taehyung, slipping his hand around Taehyung’s waist.

“Yeah. She was.”

a/n: :)))) feedback is much appreciate. Thank u for reading.

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jimin x reader x taehyung #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x taehyung #vmin #im crying

[bugli-bugli]

TW: insults towards depression and anxiety, toxic behavior, father/parent mention, trauma discussion, self-harm mention, suicide idealization

just a rant because im just too fucking tired of the bullshit of other sites.

i’ve really taken for granted how non-toxic tumblr is in the nice little corner i’ve tucked myself into. since i’m pretty desperate for money, cause now i think ill just have to live off disability if i can even get it.

I gotta say my mutuals and the people who reblogged my donation post, im so fucking grateful for you and i cant thank you enough. but besides the point, rant.

posted my donation post on twitter and later reddit, like the naive fool i am. the first comment i got on the twitter one was very homophobic and the guy was just an overall creep upon a quick look on his tumblr. i responded to him but immediately deleted it cause i knew thats all he wanted was to make me angry. think i was able to get him banned but fuck if i know.

this is more about the lovely reddit post i got

sigh im not going to bother replying and i just reported them, but i wanted to get out of me all the shit i wanted to say. just, first of all i know trolls and shit just do this to get attention, but this on the fucking r/donate subreddit like??? why isn’t it moderated better?? besides the point

i dont care if you believe my donation post is a scam, whatever, believe what you want and move on. i understand there is a lot of people out there trying to get money they can easily get themselves, instead they take it from goodhearted people.

you need to grow the fuck up. i redirect back at this person because, you spent your time, what? hating on a post that might be a scam. and they regularly do this to from just a quick look. so immature and annoying. this hurts so fucking much to hear too cause it strikes a perfect nerve of trauma.

anxiety and depressions are perfectly valid reasons to not be able to hold down a job. they sound like my fucking dad. i have panic attacks when people raise their voice or if there is too much going on around me, like tvs and crowds and what not.

ive mostly been sleeping lately and cant even make myself do simple physical tasks. not just because of my depression but because of my chronic joint pain that i still haven’t fucking got working medication for yet.

plus i have 472147921 other disorders that i havent been able to get diagnosed or help yet because of my stupid fucking parents. who finally are getting me help after years upon years of having obvious mental issues. ONLY BECAUSE a big argument that my sister had to speak for me in, because i went nonverbal and was hysterically laughing because my dad denying he called me fat.

but yeah i cant even brush my teeth, or shower, the only hygiene habits i have are because if i didnt do them my brain would make me have a panic attack or some intrusive thoughts of self harm.

how is it fucking entitled to ask strangers to donate, H O W? i dont think i deserve this, i dont think that im better then other people, im posting this because others who are in similar/worse situations posting donation posts gave me the confidence to do so.

yes im so entitled to be begging on my hands and knees for money because capitalism and my body and mind are working against me. im not even saying HEY DONATE AND IF YOU DONT DONATE YOU ARE A FUCKING HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING. or anything even remotely close to that.

i gave the needed information and background as to why we would need money, and why we struggle to get it ourselves. and asked that people at least share, but there is no obligation to go any of these things.

i know i cant live my entire life on freelance transcription but it is LITERALLY THE ONLY JOB I CAN GET. yeah just simply go out and get a real job, because you can totally form sentences around strangers and dont feel like you are going to throw up from anxiety. its not that hard.

i totally have the endurance to do whatever it is necessary in whatever shitty ass 8 hour shift job i could get, because every step i take doesn’t physically hurt. because after walking too much, my knees wont give out ever, that never happens. because i dont have a fear of failure because my dad totally didn’t get mad at me when i took to long to learn something. i have no trauma related to that at all. im a totally capable human being. 

all of these last two paragraphs are sarcasm btw if that wasn’t obvious

i dont even know what couch sufing on craigslist even is. i had to look it up. how is that advice, how. oh yeah just live on other peoples couches, people you dont even know. thats not dangerous at all like HUH?!?! fuck no. if i wanted to get myself killed id do it myself.

also shelters are totally safe, and never have any issues whatsoever. i didnt ask for fucking advice that was going to make our situation worse you p.o.s.

also i know what im fucking doing, im researching and trying to make the most feasible and realistic plan to leave. even if that is i have freelance transcribing jobs and disability and my sister has whatever job and my so probably in the same boat as me. im not just going to move out without the needed things unless i was kicked out. which, as of the moment, none of us are currently at risk of that, yet.

if it really came down to it where Brutus would need to be rehomed, we’d probably do it. but he means so fucking much to us, we dont want to rehome him because we dont have anyone we can fucking trust to take care of him and we arent just going to give him away to whoever. Brutus and my pets and my sisters are all part of our family, and we aren’t just going to fucking give them away.

whatever, the rage is gone, im tired and i want to cry, this wasn’t posted for attention or anything i just wanted to rant. please dont leave negative comments im not in the goddamned mood.

#long post #my post #rant #mental health #personal problems #please dont give advice i dont want any #tw #parent tw #father tw #trauma tw #rant tw #caps lock #depression #anxiety #delete later #maybe idk