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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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Eeeh don't apologize for the delay, honey! You don't owe me anything 😘! Don't worry Brummie, you shouldn't be launching your drink at the screen -- not until next chapter *evil laugh*! Joke aside, I've been having a bad mood day so far so you can't imagine how good reading your commentary is to me.

You're absolutely right, Heaven knows her husband by heart. To be true I would not have been as patient as her neither LMAO but she knows how emotionally fragile he is and she doesn't want to shake him. Sometimes you just need a bit of time to proceed with a bad mood, but she quickly understood it was more than that. That being said, I am in love you highlighted the drug parallel and you've explained their relationship in one sentence far better than me in 10 chapter!! She's his drug, and notre petit loulou cannot function without her anymore. This is something I did not really explore but they kinda have withdrawal symptoms when they are away from each other for too long -- it's especially visible in Arthur, who'll get far more aggressive and whose body tends to nervously shake.

Eeehh, I'm glad you liked these really soft anecdotes about their relationship and life, such as the garage (I honestly wanted to slap Linda across the face when she denied him the job) or how much he likes to draw his wife while being ashamed to show her the result. In the show, I loved the little fact about Arthur's love for drawing. It made me melt.🥺 He's really romantic -- or at least he is in Arthur's way!

Babe, I laughed too at the "shift these panties, woman", it was so unnecessarily aggressive lmao. I also found it amusing how he shifts into horny mode, but as you said I think it's in-character for Arthur. There are several instances of it in the show, for example during the Russian orgy, or several times with Linda. I'm specifically referring to the scene in S5 when they fight and he grabs her by the neck, kisses her and say something like "u gonna shut the fuck up, be the good wife and we're gonna go upstairs make love". With that taken into account, it's even more strong with Heaven. So I'm glad you don't feel like it's OOC or not logical!!

You said it, "great minds think alike", I cannot wait to read how you use this idea in your new chapter! I'm so excited teehee These Shelby boys are weak when it comes to sex. 😎 THANK YOU FOR LIKING THE SMUT!! I like to think she's super happy with Arthur's dominance and rough sex, but we all know she's the real one in charge. He is literally at her mercy -- and how he likes it! 😇

In truth, I'm not satisfied at all with how the last part of this chapter came out, but I just wanted to get it out of my mind. Reading that you think I did good at describing her building despair and longing for her husband really warms my heart :'( and now about that cliffhanger.... AAAHHH *smashes the keyboard* I KNOW RIGHT IT WAS SO UNEXPECTED. I love how your mind is rushing lil' Brummie teehee, let me alleviate the doubts: this is a threat from Section D! I've laughed so so much at the theory of Tommy being the one behind the threat, I don't think he would threaten her but rather be the kind of character to kill her without any warning sign! 🤔 Also you are absolutely right: her and the Shelby's enemies are underestimating her. I think it's due to the fact that they are unaware of the rumors around her, or at least they do not know the extent of her powers. But contrary you them, you know how dangerous she is ... And the girl is going back to Birmingham, ready to make them all kneel at her feet! 😈 Thank you again for your neverending support, I swear your comments always make my day. As I told you, I've been having quite a bad mood rn and you can't imagine how you made me smile honey!! I'm happy you liked this chapter 'cause I've been quite unconfident with it lately.

Love you, Brummie! Expect me for a wild commentary of Killing Me Softly's new chapter 🖤

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: All it took was one phone call and one visit from Ada to destroy the paradise Arthur had spent one full year building. No matter what he does, his past crimes always seem to catch up with him. Now that you are in danger, he decides to come back to Birmingham and handle the Changretta problem without you.

Words: 5,3K

TW: Angst, canonical description of violence, smut, foreplay, masturbation, self-harm, from the end of this chapter the story will take a darker turn. You've been warned.

Notes:

✞ Based off EP1 S4 of Peaky Blinders but contains many changes and variations for the sake of this series' plot.

✞ Each act features two chapters with smut in it, and they all serve the story's purpose. No more.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

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When Ada’s piercing eyes finally caught sight of the house’s roof through the trees’ thick foliage, she sighed relieved. While the landscape was breathtaking, the walk from her car to the front door had been tedious despite the short distance. In fact, the only way to access the house was to walk a sloped dirt road leading the visitors up to the hill’s summit — which was an almost impossible task to do when wearing classy high heels as was Ada’s case. Arthur did not lie when he said they were living far from the city. The young Shelby sister quickly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and knocked at the door. She was welcomed by the sight of Arthur, whose magnificent steel blue eyes lit up when he saw his sister, delighted to see her. But far from a courtesy visit, the words that left her mouth broke their siblings' reunion. Like red-hot blades, they slashed Arthur’s hopes of straying away from his gangster life.

All the quietness and peace he had built throughout the year, rendering his anger outbursts less frequent, shattered like a glass smashed on concrete under the power of one sole visit from Ada and her bitter statement: the family was in danger.

No.

You were in danger.

And it was all his fault.

Something had changed in Arthur when he came back from his little talk with Ada. He had barely stepped into the house that you noticed how all the muscles of his body were tensed and how his facial features had turned into a colder expression.

“Arthur.” It has been the third time you’d called him, but each previous attempt had been left without any reply or reaction. Slumped on the sofa, the oldest Shelby brother was staring at an invisible spot on the wall facing him, his eyes blank and his fingers nervously taping on the left armrest. At first, you thought he just needed a bit of time with himself to swallow the visible bad news he had received from his sister, but two days had passed and now his behavior was starting to worry you.

“Arthur Shelby Jr.” You called with stricter tone this time.

All of sudden, your voice cleared the black fog of his mind and brought him back to reality. Arthur blinked several times as if he could shoo his messy thoughts away by batting his eyelashes, and finally raised his piercing blue eyes toward your graceful frame, that was standing in front of him with its arms crossed. At the serious expression on your doll face, he nervously moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, his gaze not shifting from you one sole second. God, how gorgeous you were in your silk nightgown, as white as your hair and adorned with complex laces. That was the first thought that had crossed his mind when his gaze fell on you. In truth, he would have probably pinned you to the wall and made your legs shake until you could not walk straight anymore if he hadn’t been plagued by the dreadful news Ada brought upon your harmonious life “Eh, I know…” He started, slightly raising his almost empty whiskey glass towards you, “I shouldn’t be drinking.” He admitted, before lowering his eyes to look at his own reflection in the alcohol. With one small movement from the wrist, he made the amber liquid softly spin in the glass. Arthur was still traumatized by Linda’s constant snarky remarks and humiliations each time he was indulging in whisky, that was why he had felt the need to justify himself now that you saw him drink alone.

“You don’t need my permission to drink, Cheri.” You replied with a soft voice, as soft as a feather’s caress on his poor aching soul. You were definitely not like his former wife: he could do whatever he wanted as long as it wasn’t taking drugs or cheating. That had always been the tacit deal between both of you when things got serious — and to be honest, you had feared the first temptation far greater than the second until you realized that Arthur’s new favorite drug was you.

Your crystal irises had been observing the slightest trait of his face with slightly furrowed brows for one solid minute when you finally let out a little sigh and slid one long ivory strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m just worried. You haven’t eaten anything nor slept for two days straight.” Worst, he had been hugging you tight, burying his face in your breasts and trembling like a leaf because of panic attacks for the last two nights.

“Worried? Eh, no need to be worried, love. Cm’here.” He replied with a little smile, moving one of his long leg to invite you to have a sit on him.

Arthur did try his best not to make you feel anxious but the truth was he was literally unable to hide something from his beloved wife even if he had wished to shield you from it. He had been mulling the news over for days and nights, and it was starting to eat him alive.

You walked to him without further ado, your hips graciously swinging to the rhythm of your steps, and finally sat on his lap. Once you straddled him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently rested your forehead against his as you usually did. Arthur let out a sigh of relief as your bodies found each other again, his hands grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. He was often a bit blunt, but how much you loved his possessive and suffocating way of touching was indescribable, “Ye didn’t know how much I needed it, eh.” Arthur’s husky voice mumbled, referring to his obsessive and desperate need to constantly have physical contact with you, “How much I needed your touch.” His steel-blue irises dived into yours, losing themselves in the vastness of the frozen ocean that constituted your eyes. He could have stayed like this for eternity, hypnotized by your beauty and lulled by the oh-so-tender way you had slipped your fingers in his hair to gently scratch the shaven back of his head.

“There. I finally see a smile!” You faintly teased him, “Not that I dislike that adorable grumpy face of yours.”

Nothing much had changed since your wedding day, except for your family name and the regular discussions about trying for a baby, all nestled in each other’s arms in your bed with Kaiser sleeping near, in front of the fireplace. In truth, it has been a miracle you were not already pregnant considering Arthur’s stamina and unquenchable desire. The thing was you never left the honeymoon stage despite living together. Against all odds, Arthur Shelby was a sweet and caring husband. He never missed an opportunity to bring you gifts, whether expensive clothes, jewels, or just little flowers he picked on his way back home because it was pretty and made you think about you. Moreover, he had this ability to always manage to find awe in your daily routine, the last example of it being him spending hours observing you and discreetly drawing your frame in his sketchbook because he had spotted you swimming naked in the nearby lake, and was star-stricken by such a divine vision. He had felt like an incredibly lucky Greek artist catching sight of the most stunning nymph the Gods had ever created. Little you knew, his sketchbook was filled with portraits and doodles of you he was too ashamed of to show you. Not that he wanted to keep them for himself, but Arthur always ended up frustrated not being able to properly translate your mesmerizing and ethereal beauty on paper.

Besides your idyllic and peaceful domestic life far from gangster’s troubles, Arthur had also opened a small garage and fixed cars for a living, even if his past activities with the Peaky Blinders gave him enough money to live comfortably without working. But Arthur was surprisingly handy when his patience did not fail him, and he genuinely loved to fix cars — what had been his surprise when you reacted with joy and kissed him tenderly the day he suggested the idea, for Linda never allowed him to do so.

Regarding your own occupation, you had simply followed your mother’s path and worked as both a herbalist and healer — the second occupation being known among people only through word of mouth. That was what your life looked like prior to Ada’s unexpected visit two days ago. Yet, when she left, Arthur’s eyes had turned into a darker shade, the same one he had when he was in Birmingham dirtying his hands on Tommy’s orders.

“Arthur, love. You really need to tell me what’s the matter with your sister…” You gently asked, your fingers still massaging his scalp and your juicy lips sprinkling honey pecks on the corner of his mouth from which the whisky bitterness could be tasted. But despite all your tenderness, your husband remained closed to the idea of sharing his concerns with you.

“It’s… A bit difficult to explain,” He mumbled, shutting his eyes tight, “I don’t want ye to panic or something. I can handle it and…”

“Please.” You cut him off, tightening your arms around him to pull him in a deeper hug. All his body finally relaxed a little bit when your fragile and frozen being collapsed with his, your breasts flattened against his chest and your hips firmly embracing his, “When we’ve met you told me that, from now, it was us against the rest of the world. Even if it was raining and the wind was blowing. You don’t have to face it all alone Arthur, no matter how awful or frightening it is. Let me fight it with you.” You pleaded, your lips grazing his with utter desire and genuine love.

“But I don’t want ye to be in danger.” Arthur finally admitted, reopening his gorgeous eyes to look at you. How much he hated not to share information with you, but Tommy told him it would be better if you ignored everything. Yet, the sensation of your mouth brushing his without kissing it soon stirred a bit of frustration in him. It had been enough to make him flip. With a grunt, he caught your lower lip between his teeth and gently sunk them into your soft flesh, to which you replied with a small surprised moan. Now that he got all your attention, he proceeded to kiss you almost furiously, his worries, dawning anger and blazing desire mixing together. His movements became blunter all of sudden, “I’ll fookin’ kill myself if something bad would happen to ye, eh,” He growled a bit louder against your mouth, his husky voice highlighted by an aggressive tone you hadn’t heard in one full year, “But I’ll destroy ‘em first, eh. These fookin’ wops won’t lay their fingers on ye. They won’t.” He repeated, his venomous anger wakening up slowly and coursing through his rusted veins. A little surprised whimper escaped from your mouth as Arthur’s tongue forced its way between your lips a bit too eagerly.

“Arthur —“

“Fookin’ bastards, how dare they eh?!” The gravel in his voice boomed louder, underlined with a palpable rage now. As he pestered, his mind spinning in a whirlpool of negativity, Arthur grabbed your wrist and led your hand between his legs, pressing it on his half-hardened shaft, for all his brutal emotions more than often led to sex when you were around. It was his, as well as your, way to release tension, “How dare they threaten me eh?” The tall gangster started to breathe loudly through his nose as his rage was increasing. All he needed was the smallest sparkle for him to explode. While he kept your wrist in one hand, his other one ran up your thighs in a rough caress to lift your nightgown eagerly, “Shift these panties, woman.” He said a bit more aggressively than intended, maddened by the overwhelming urge to feel your wet slit all around him. Growling, Arthur’s mouth worked its way down your neck to leave small red marks on your divine ivory skin.

“Arthur, no.” You breathed as you bite down a moan, doing your best to sound strict. As good as it felt, you did not want to give in now: getting distracted by rough sex was out of question, what you wanted was the truth first.

Arthur, no. As soon as your words left your tantalizing lips, they echoed in his head and were enough to snatch him from his violent thoughts. The tall gangster blinked and raised his slightly confused gaze to you, shocked by your vivid refusal. After all, you would usually let him ruin you whenever he needed it so why would you refuse? “You’re hurting me.” You reiterated with a sweeter tone now that you got his attention.

“Oh shit!” He released your wrist in response, guilt beating him down when he realized your skin was redden because of his grip, “I’m sorry…Oh, Angel, I’m bloody sorry…”

Still, you kept your hand there to his greatest surprise. The only difference was that your free fingers went for his cheek to bless him with soothing caresses to reassure him. As always, the cold sensation of your flesh against his managed to tame the wildfire that was burning in his soul, “Calm down...” Your voice was merely a whisper now, similar to the enchanting murmur of a siren singing in the far away distance, “Is this what you want?” You backed up a little bit on his lap to create a little gap between your hips so that you could get a better grip on his bulge. The palm of your hand started to languidly rub it.

“Heaven?” He gasped, the anger in his cold blue eyes suddenly turning into an astonished and beseeching look. But for Arthur Shelby no meant no, hence the fact he did not dare to touch you back, “Oh bloody hell, please…” He gritted through his teeth. As strong as he was, he felt his body weakened and his throat tightened with an unsufferable arousal.

“Now you tell me,” Leaving your sentence hanging, you grabbed him a bit stronger and he whimpered at your unexpected roughness. A long exhale escaped from his nostrils as he focused on both the electrifying sensation that shook his core and the enchanting sight of your lips he dreamt to fuck. Yet, Arthur gathered all his strength and willpower to remain calm, afraid you wouldn’t let him sink into your welcoming warmth if he misbehaved, “What happened with Ada?” You inquired, tilting your head on the side, “What did John tell you when he called you?”

“Eh… Nothing— Ah..” Arthur’s lips parted under the coiling pleasure when you tightened your grip on his shaft, “I— Can’t tell ye, love.”

“No, no. You’re going to tell me. Do you know why? Because you’re a good boy for your wife.” You cooed. Your almost chilling aquamarine irises were anchored in his, burning with an unflickering gleam of power and confidence. Sometimes Arthur wondered how such a delicate and fragile-looking angel like you could hide the seductive and fearful which you truly were. A witch to the others, a goddess to him — And how he liked both of those facets of you, feeding his dominant behavior but also fulfilling his more submissive tendencies when he needed to but was too ashamed to admit it. To be true, you both knew how to balance the power you hold over the other one, and tonight, you were clearly the one in charge, “Are you a good boy, Arthur Shelby?” You teased, one brow raised.

He clenched his fists around the sofa’s blanket in a desperate attempt to find a way to control himself for he almost cum at your praise, “I am…” Arthur slowly rolled his hips, “I’m a good boy for me wife…“ He replied, sucking in a sharp breath, with his quivering hoarse voice, “Please…” He growled in discomfort because his trousers had become far too tight. Nevertheless, you remained unmoved by his supplications and stopped moving your hand, waiting for an answer, “Alright! Alright… Im gonna tell ye!”

“I hope so.” You replied, kneading his bulge again.

“Ada and John told me we’ve all received a Black Hand.” He started, looking at you with impatience. Satisfied, you unbuckled his belt and let your hand work its way into his underwear to grab his hardened cock by its thick base and free it from his trouser. Arthur let out a loud groan, a drop of sweat beading on his forehead. Not only at the sensations but at the sight of your small fingers around his erection.

“What’s a Black Hand?” You kept asking all the while enjoying the sight of your husband’s enamored, begging, and fascinated gaze. He was looking at you, obliterating everything else, for only the words that came from your holy lips mattered.

“Oh fook, Angel… Touch me harder.” He begged in a trembling, almost broken voice. If there was one thing Arthur could not stand that was being teased. Thus it did not take much for you to have him wrapped around your finger. He suddenly bit his lower lip, eyes glistening with ruling passion, for the way the moonlight reflected through the window behind you created a heavenly halo around your head, “Touch me!” Another husky whine. The gangster rolled his hips eagerly, nails digging into the sofa’s fabric.

“Focus, Mon amour. The Black Hand. What is it?” You repeated, pressing a little kiss on his starving and slightly parted mouth while your hand started to jerk him off in slow up-and-down movements. At first, Arthur thought it would soothe the painful hardness of his cock but your far too languid movements only worsened it.

“Ah! The Black Hand yes. It’s a death threat from the Sicilian mafia. They send one to everyone they wanna — oh fook! — wanna kill…” He said through gritted teeth at the feeling of your thumb rubbing the glistening tip of his cock in circular motions, smearing precum on his skin. Arthur rolled his eyes, holding back a desperate cry as your hand pumped him in a way that brought him closer to heaven — or closer to hell, it was getting hard to tell.

“Why would they send you one?” You frowned, stroking a little bit faster.

“Oh bloody motherfucking hell!” He yelled, the gravel in his voice making the house shake as he threw his head back. Yet, he did not shut his eyes tight for looking at you while you masturbated him only strengthened his pleasure. He felt as if he was burning from within, “Cause I killed Changretta’s dad! I’ve put a fookin’ bullet through his skull. And now Tommy wants us to have an emergency reunion!” He spat very quickly, unable to stand it anymore. With a bit of luck, you’d allow him to spill himself now that he told you everything. Arthur let out an ashamed and submissive whimper, turned into a begging mess, “Let me cum! I’ll fookin’ beg on my knees if that’s what ye want! On my bloody knees, I will! but please… Please, Angel… I can’t take it anymore, oh God.”

“Tommy wants you back. Of course.” You winced, as if the bitterness of your own venom had exploded on your tastebuds, still caressing your man absentmindedly.

“Heaven…” He lamented, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, abandoning himself to the pleasure. Arthur moved his hips, trying to thrust his length in your fist in the hope of releasing himself but it wasn’t enough. The way you stroke him kept him at the edge of climax without allowing him to reach it and it was driving him crazy. Your focus shifted back to your husband, whose legs had started to shake like leaves in the wind.

You snapped back to the present moment,“ Oh Arthur,” You purred when you realized that your poor man had reached his limits but still tried to behave himself by not throwing you on the sofa and making you pay for teasing him. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a myriad of kisses from his scarred throat up to the corner of his mouth, his mustache pleasantly scratching the skin of your face as you did, “Cum for me like the good boy you are.” You whispered in his ear, your siren-like voice intoxicating even more and causing him to whine no matter how hard he tried to bite it down… Goosebumps adorned your body at the arousing sight of Arthur, usually tough and rough, almost crying from pleasure and frustration. A little feverish sight escaped from your mouth, your walls clenching onto nothing. It was enough: he had been good and deserved some kind of relief. Hence, you finally stroked him how he wanted to be stroked, “I’m proud of you Arthur. So proud… Cum for me, my strong and lovely husband.” Your praises definitely got everything of him. Arthur’s fingers clenched so hard on the blanket that he almost tore it. He arched his back and the gravel in his voice chanted your name on repeat like he never did for any women, whores, or good girls, like a preacher imploring the mercy of his divinity. One minute later his cock throbbed in your palm before he finally released the tension in hot spurts of milky ropes in both your hand and your thighs. With a little satisfied smirk, you brought your fingers to your mouth and licked his release while looking at your shaking man.

“Christ…” He let out a long sigh, his body collapsing back on the sofa. The arm with which he hid his face fell limp after he tucked himself back in his trousers. Left as a panting mess, Arthur was trying to catch his breath while his half-closed eyes were still staring at you with a blissed-out gleam in their magnificent blue irises. But that extraordinary post-sex peace had to come to an end: the worst part of the discussion was awaiting. Arthur moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, stars still dangling in his vision, and, without the slightest warning, pulled you in a strong hug. His arms wrapped around you, pressing your ribs so hard you almost suffocated: He was afraid. Fucking afraid to lose you, “You need to stay here. Safe and sound.”

“Sorry?” You suddenly exclaimed, lowering your gaze toward him to ensure you understood correctly what he just said, “That’s absolutely out of question, Arthur. I’m coming with you back to Birmingham. We’ll go through this shit together and we’ll be back in our forest as soon as possible.” You said, your fingers gently fondling his neck.

“No, love.” His hoarse voice, rendered raspier by the orgasm he had, retorted with a bit more authoritative tone as he regained his composure.“Ye ain’t coming with me. It’s too dangerous. Trust me, I’d love too but I would forgive myself if Changretta would hurt you.”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t let you go alone and risk your life,” Panic had already started to kick in at that idea, twisting your guts and accelerating your heartbeat. Who will take care of him if you weren’t by his side? As the one who had pulled the trigger, you were more than aware that Arthur was probably the first name underlined in red on that Changretta’s list, “You know I can be useful. Arthur please.”

“I’ll be back very quick, love.” Arthur tried to reassure you, but parting from him was far too painful for you to agree with him, "I'll be back soon and we'll have a little one together right? The perfect couple…" The corner of his mouth stretched in a tender and soothing smile right before he crashed his lips against yours. You kissed him back but it did not made you feel better. Quite the contrary. Shaken by his decision, you sighed and moved away from him. Despite his attempt to hold you back, you still managed to break his embrace and walked towards the window, wrapping your arms around your own tiny frame to hug you.

Arthur bit his knuckles, frustrated by the whole situation, and utterly in pain for you had just rejected him. After a short while, he got up from the sofa and joined you near the window, his hands still weak, “Listen. You gotta trust me. I don’t want to be away from you either — God knows I’m already scared of withering without your heavenly presence and your arms around me neck. But I can’t risk losing ye. I would fookin’ die, I swear would. I want you to stay safe here, guarded by Kaiser and by the forest, rather than with me at the mercy of these Italians. If you come with me they’ll assault you… Because of me. Because yer me wife.” Arthur explained in a slow and distinct voice, his feathery fingers rearranging one of your white strands of hair. Tears blurred your vision at his words — since your wedding there hadn’t been one day you’d been away from each other more than a few hours, hence the overwhelming misery you felt that such a plan. , “Look at me,” He asked, gently grabbing your arm to make you spin. His hands, big and calloused, cupped your face, “Heaven,” he dived into your fleeing eyes, from which crystal tears were rolling down your pearly white cheeks, “Everything’s gonna be fine, ey.”

You slowly nodded, defeated. “Tout ira bien.” You repeated in French, looking at him with the most heartbreaking pout he had ever seen. In truth, you were trying to convince yourself more than actually believing it. Your little fists clenched discreetly —and they clenched so hard that your knuckles turned white.

No, it was not going to be fine.

Definitely not.

Snuggling in one of Arthur’s shirts, you buried your nose in the collar to smell the musky and reassuring perfume of your husband. A frustrated growl escaped from your juicy lips. You were sitting on the wooden floor in front of the fire, hugging your knees against your chest as you watched the flames die in the hearth. Only two weeks had passed since Arthur’s departure for Birmingham and you were already at the edge of the abyss, ready to fall into a pit of madness. Locked up here between the walls of your own house, you feel estranged from your home, trapped in a doorless maze. Just like a wonderful Siberian tigress in a zoo, you were spending your day pacing back and forth in the living room under Kaiser’s saddened and worried eyes, before collapsing on the floor or the nearby sofa. Devoured by anxiety and another frightful gut feeling no one was there to listen to, you usually ended up rolling in a ball with the guard dog’s big wet snout poking you in a desperate attempt to cheer you up. How could you carry on with your life when your soulmate was far away from you, hunted down by a whole mafia whose every member wanted to see him dead? No matter the protective spells you had cast upon Arthur, you could not help but give in to panic. After all, he was the only one you had. And you were quite unfortunate considering how every people you had truly loved always tended to end up dead and cold, six feet under.

Giving one last kiss on Kaiser’s head, you got up from the floor and went to the small silvery cigarette case that was on the coffee table. You slipped a cigarette between your plump lips and lit it up, immediately taking a long puff in the hope of calming your nerves. As the nicotine burnt your throat and lungs, you felt your nervousness alleviating a tiny bit. I should not be here, you thought, I should be by his side. These were the words that were playing on repeat in your head. In your rambling, your mind focused on Thomas Shelby, whose past mischiefs made you believe he was the only one responsible for your role —or rather for your non-role— in this new war against the Italians. Even if Arthur did not tell you anything about it, you knew he had managed to fill your man’s mind with the idea that you’d be safer here only because he did not want you back in Birmingham. That son of a bitch — he was well aware that he had to get rid of you if he wanted Arthur to behave like his dog. You let out a furious cloud of smoke from your nostrils.

As it as been the case before Thomas had sent you all in jail, your sharp witch instincts were ringing emergency alarms in your very soul. Your chest tightened at the sudden boiling rage that coursed through your veins. How ridiculous that was? You were stuck here, completely useless, as Arthur, John, Polly, and Ada were all facing unnamable dangers. Pressing your lips tight around the cigarette, you pinched your nose to calm your nerves. That was at the moment you had almost managed to calm down a little bit that one of the living room windows crashed in hundreds of little sharp shards of glass. The cacophony of it made Kaiser jump before he immediately reacted by rushing near the gaping window and aggressively barking at the outside darkness: the beast hundred pounds Cane Corso was ready to tear throats to protect you. With a pounding heart and eyes wide open, you looked at in the distance: All you could see was a car’s headlights located at the bottom of the hill, but they quickly disappeared when the driver left the place with haste.

“Putain!” You whispered, cigarette still hanging in your mouth and one hand pressed against your chaotic heart. What the hell had happened? Still shaking from the shock, you looked at all around you and noticed the huge brick that had been thrown at the window. However, what stirred your panic was not the tool of the mischief itself but rather the letter that was tied to it with barbed wires. You did not wait any longer and grabbed it, untying the letter without minding the small cuts the wire left on your skin. As you opened it, your crimson blood drenched the fabric of the paper in dozen of stains.

To Arthur Shelby’s whore,

If you think you are safe hidden here in the wild you are utterly wrong. We haven’t forgotten about you, and despite the fact you are outside of our economic interests, you evil witch have to pay for Father Hughes and Simon Conrad’s death.

We have understood from your past crimes that you are a great advocate of retributive justice so here comes the other side of the coin. Hereby, we wish to inform you that we will come for you one day. You can hide. You can run. But you won’t escape us.

In the meantime, check twice under your bed, in your closet and behind you, because we are the shadow that follows you. Also be sure that if the Mafia does not succeed in killing Arthur Shelby, we will.

Every witch can burn,

Your heart missed a beat so big you felt dizzy. The letter slipped from your wounded fingers and fell on the floor. You took the cigarette out of your mouth and, instinctively stubbed it out on the back of your wrist without the slightest wince for it was the only thing you had found to calm yourself down. The crackling sound of burning flesh echoed in the room as the red-hot ashes marked your delicate and immaculate porcelain skin with a black and red circle. The pain, vivid and stingy, did not seem to bother you though, judging by the way your face remained absolutely neutral: the truth was the burning of your wrath outmatched the one on your flesh. No matter Thomas’ orders and Arthur’s worries, you had made up your mind: you were going back to Birmingham, and you were going to make the whole city shatter and shake at your fingertips if that was what you needed to do to retrieve your peaceful life.

If all of Birmingham was afraid of Arthur Shelby more than anything, it was only because they had never seen the fury of his wife.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader

#Brummie 🖤#Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?#This is Heaven #HYE Squad #comment rb

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herrlindemann · 2 years ago

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WOM - November 2005, Interview with Schneider

Only a year after their successful album 'Reise, Reise', Germany's last romantics are back. WOM Magazine spoke to drummer Christoph Schneider about Rammstein's new work 'Rosenrot'.

The lyrics to the title song 'Rosenrot' sound like a best-of from Grimm's 'Schneeweißchen und Rosenrot' and Goethe's 'Heidenröslein'. An album between fairy tale hour and high culture?

It's hard for me to answer that with yes or no. Of course, Till's poetry always borrows from fairy tales, in this old language and words that are no longer part of colloquial language. That's his way of writing.

'Schneeweißchen und Rosenrot' is a story about love. In the face of so much anger and aggression, do you have room for love?

Sure, that's also represented, as always with Rammstein. We've always had a romantic side. There's a song or two on every album where that comes into play. I find that on 'Rosenrot' the romance increasingly shines through. And I'm very happy about that too. You continue to develop. We're not as angry as we were ten years ago. Occasionally you have to listen to what is happening now.

What is now?

We are all ten years older than Herzeleid. You no longer only have this destructive, aggressive potential, but there are also other sides, facets.

With all due respect: You just recorded a track called ‘Zerstören’, it's about 'saw up, dismantle, injure, shred, rip, smash' - as a symbol for aggression out of frustration because of disappointed love.

Yes, that's often the case. If you are not loved, you have to draw attention to yourself in other ways.

One of the most controversial tracks on the album is undoubtedly 'Mann gegen Mann'. It says: 'Not a link is missing in my chain / When lust pulls from behind / My sex calls me a traitor / I am every father's nightmare'. Where does the desire for homoerotic fantasies come from?

In their story, Rammstein have already written, set to music and illustrated all possible variants of love. 'Mann gegen Mann' describes a side of love that we haven't explored yet. There is some homosexual potential in every human being. It remains to be seen to what extent this will come into play or become a philosophy of life. In any case, it seemed so interesting to Till that he wanted to write a text about it. As a band, we found it difficult to face such a topic as a 'macho band', so to speak. Some might be wondering: are they gay after all, or what?

Or homophobic? The way you yell out the word 'gay' in the chorus doesn't exactly sound like the song will be the anthem of the next CSD.

We were tempted to associate the supposed swear word 'gay' with heavy music. But you can tell in the text that we don't use that as a swear word, but in a different way of dealing with the topic — as a very idiosyncratic way of illuminating the topic.

Does your keyboarder Flake have to fear the worst at the stage show again? (Flake is partially penetrated with a strap-on in the song 'Bück dich'.)

(Laughs) Yes, but Flake is ready for anything anyway! Interesting to think about what visual rendition would go with the song!

It is said that the songs from 'Rosenrot' are leftovers from the last session of 'Reise, Reise'.

'Rosenrot' is also partly a follow-up album to 'Reise, Reise'. Half of the songs were created during those recordings. But at that time we couldn't fit all the titles on 'Reise, Reise' because they were too close together in terms of content and we detest albums that are too long. That's why the idea came up to record a follow-up album right after our tour.

The new album receives a lot of advance praise. What do you think is the reason for this?

‘Reise, Reise’ was a departure for us. It was colourful, had many different elements and you could see that Rammstein wanted to move. They want to go somewhere else. We realized that we couldn't find anything new in our style. Hence the change. 'Rosenrot' has become very versatile, it is very polarizing. There are extremely hard pieces and extremely soft songs. For me this album is a quest for what Rammstein can be in the future. It's hard for me to say that we've reinvented ourselves.

If 'Reise, Reise' was an album of departure, where did you arrive with 'Rosenrot'?

For me, 'Rosenrot' is not actually an arrival. It's the end of a chapter. But it also opens doors that we can go through. In any case, 'Rosenrot' has brought back a lot of energy that we haven't had for a long time.

#Rammstein #Christoph Schneider #Till Lindemann #Flake #Oliver Riedel #Paul Landers #Richard Kruspe #translation #*scans #2005 #*

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britt-writes · 4 years ago

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hi lovely i have a request for you because youre work is absolutely amazing aHH ! could you maybe so some headcanons/oneshot on lucas making his gf cry cause he's getting all pissed with his computer n is getting angry and then accidentally takes it out on his gf?? there's no pressure at all, I really do love your work and I'm so happy you write for Lucas <33

Thank you so so much, I really appreciate it, and I'm happy to do this request for you! I went for a little drabble with this one. Hopefully, I didn't make you wait too long for it. 💕 (I added a cut since it was getting a bit long and, and I don't want to invade people's dashes.)

Prompt: Lucas making his girlfriend cry

Drabble title: Poor Choice of Words

Word Count: 2008

With the semester coming to a close, you found yourself balls deep in what felt like never-ending exams to study for and detailed research papers to type. Needless to say that the hefty accumulation of college work had been piling up on you, leaving you stressed and fatigued, ultimately leaving you with no motivation or desire to get work done; just this huge blank whenever you stared at your books.

Barely able to hold yourself together with this massive headache from the free-for-all death match your thoughts were having up there, you were in desperate need of some quiet and rest. You were sure that you’d eventually break down if you didn’t.

Lucas was nice enough to let you get that quiet you needed, letting you take over his bed to nap and rest your head and eyes while he tapped away on his computer. He kept it down, which you appreciated. He’d always been the strong, silent type of guy. The only noises you could hear were the clicking of his keyboard and his foot tapping at the ground—a little tic of his, being rather fidgety.

You hadn’t quite fallen asleep, being quite restless, but you did occasionally lull in and out of consciousness. Maybe it was the damn heat wave that hit Dulvey that kept you up, or maybe it was your headache, but nonetheless, it felt nice to lie down and do nothing, worrying about nothing.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had decided to lie down in your lover’s bed, but as the seconds ticked by, you could hear Lucas’ foot tapping becoming faster, seemingly aggressive. His fingers had also joined in, just tapping at the desk.

You didn’t think much of it at first, brushing it off as Lucas simply being his regular, fidgety self; he’d probably stop in a minute or so. But then you heard a low growl from him, followed by a series of curses muttered underneath his breath.

“C'mon, ya slow piece o’ shit,” you heard him say.

Shifting around, you faced him, opening your eyes. Lucas was having some issues with his computer, and one quick glance showed that his programs and even cursor were running at abysmally sluggish speeds. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard it at first, but his computer’s fans were loud as hell, probably working their asses off. When was the last time Lucas cleaned them? The poor old box computer sounded like it was suffering.

“Motherfucker!” Lucas suddenly yelled out, nearly jolting you out of your skin.

You flinched as he began smacking the computer, making you sit up on the bed as you stared at Lucas while his patience ran thinner with every passing second. You remained still and quiet, worried about his state of anger, but also unsure if you should intervene in an attempt to get him to simmer down. Truth be told, you hated watching people get angry, even if the anger wasn’t directed at you; it put you in a state of anxiety, wanting nothing more to keep the situation from escalating further.

“Aw, what the hell?! What now?!” He yelled as his screen seemed to freeze.

“Um, hey, babe?” You intervened, sounding very meek.

He didn’t reply, continuing to aggressively fumble with his computer, still spewing insults and curses at the device. Maybe that should have been your cue to leave Lucas be, but you didn’t take it, wanting to help him.

“Babe?” You said again, a little louder this time in case he hadn’t heard you the first time over the sound of his own voice.

“What?” Lucas said rather sharply.

“Do you want me to help or something? How about you turn it off and try cleaning the fans to start off? Then, maybe-”

Lucas whirled around to face you, the annoyed look on his face immediately shutting you up.

“What the fuck would yer dumbass know? Shit’s already fucked, so I don’t need it worsenin’. I don’t need yer fuckin’ help, so mind yer goddamn business,” he said before going back to his computer, not paying you any further mind.

You had never been on the receiving end of Lucas’ outbursts until now. Maybe you were being too sensitive, but you couldn’t help the tears threatening to fall. Sure, you and Lucas have insulted each other plenty of times in the past, but it was all obvious playful banter and teasing between the two of you with no ill intentions. This time around, he held this dead serious expression and tone, making you feel like he actually thought that of you.

Lucas was short-tempered, prone to outbursts at the slightest inconvenience, and you knew that he ran his mouth faster than his brain during those moments. He often did or said things that he didn’t truly mean, letting his anger get the best of him. He probably hadn’t even realized what he said, but that still didn’t mean that you didn’t feel as if your heart shattered in millions of pieces at his poor choice of words.

Wordlessly, you lied back down, facing the wall as you curled up underneath the blankets. A few tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to make a scene. You just hoped that Lucas would soon enough calm down on his own accord.

~~~~~~

He’d say that a little over half an hour had passed since his computer started acting up, but Lucas had since abandoned the device to fool around on his phone, feet propped atop his desk. At least he was distancing himself from the source of his anger.

Maybe about a year ago, Lucas would still be fuming and smashing things around his room, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been getting better at taking breaks, not fixating on whatever was irritating him in order to cool down a bit. You were there to comfort him, listen to his venting and clear his head.

Overall, a model lover with the patience of a saint to deal with him— Lucas himself would be the first to say it.

So, why the fuck did he yell at you the way he did earlier? He absolutely hated any asshole who dared make you upset; Lucas always promised to make quick work of anybody who hurt you, and all you had to do was say the word.

But now, Lucas was the one to feel like the biggest shithead ever.

Earlier feelings of fury were slowly being replaced by regret, which was an odd feeling. It was a first for him; he’s never really given a shit enough to feel regret or shame for his actions, even when he knew that he was in the wrong. But it felt different when it involved you. Maybe he still felt anger, anger at himself for treating you like shit when all you wanted to do was help him because you cared.

You were already stressed enough in the first place with all the work you had to do, and Lucas wasn’t helping by taking out his anger on you. It was an accident; he really regretted it.

Looking back at you, Lucas saw that you were still curled on his bed. You hadn’t said anything in the last half hour, so he wondered if you had fallen asleep, though you may just be ignoring him after the things he said. He didn’t like that thought, but he knew he deserved it.

He could feel panic settling in his chest— what if he fucked up for good? What if you drew the line there? What if this was the moment you realized you could do better than him? What if you walked out on him?

Those ‘what if’ questions made him nauseated. Lucas was shit at showing it, but you were his entire world. This relationship was his only motivation to even bother trying in life. Without you, he was sure that he’d either end up thrown into the streets or in jail— just some loser with no chance in hell to make it.

He had to calm the fuck down, he thought. He knew damn well that having an internal breakdown over something that was his fault in the first place wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

He stood up from his chair, cautiously approaching his bed, almost unsure of what he should do. It was like he was second-guessing himself— maybe he should let you sleep it off.

But Lucas ultimately decided to join you in bed, slowly scooting against you and draping his arm over your waist. He already felt like shit, but the feeling only worsened when he felt you flinch, and after an uncomfortable minute of silence, Lucas finally found it in himself to say something.

“Are ya mad at me?” He asked.

And he wanted nothing more than to ram his head against drywall, not impressed with the way he chose to open up.

“Are you mad at me?” You countered in a shaky tone that split his heart in two.

“Wasn’t mad at ya… jus’ the computer,” he said.

“Do you really think I’m dumb?” You asked, voice nearly inaudible.

“C'mon baby, y'know I don’t,” he said.

The silence on your end was goddamn unnerving, absolutely stressing him out. As the seconds ticked by, Lucas could feel his breathing become ragged and heavy, the atmosphere making him increasingly more anxious.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, realizing that he should have said that in the first place.

Lucas didn’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he ever did in his lifetime.

“I just wanted to help,” you said, voice quivering. “But you just yelled at me instead.”

And then the sobs came; Lucas could feel your body shake against him. Oh, God. He made you cry. Lucas didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any shittier at the moment, but here he was.

“No-no-no-no— don’t cry,” Lucas shushed, holding you tighter and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” he apologized again. “I know ya just wanted to help, 'cause yer just the sweetest thing out there.”

“You looked so serious… like you really meant it,” you managed to say through choked up cries. “I feel like I’m the stupidest bother to you.”

“Didn’t mean a goddamn word of it. I know it ain’t no excuse, but I wasn’t thinkin’ right. Aw, shit— I’m the stupid piece o’ crap here. Yer hella smart, darlin’; there ain’t one part o’ ya that’s dumb,” he said. “Y'know I love ya, right?”

You were taking your sweet time to respond, making Lucas all the more anxious. He thought that he had royally fucked up beyond repair.

“Do you… d'ya still love me?” He asked, finding himself ridiculously pathetic for asking such a thing; the shakiness in his tone didn’t help either.

“Of course I do,” you said.

Lucas found some relief in the swift response at his question— no stuttering, no vague answers, no skipped beat. Your crying had also started to die down.

“So, you ain’t gonna, ya know, leave or somethin’?” He asked.

“No. I wouldn’t break up with you over something like this. It’s not worth our entire relationship,” you said. “I’m just a little sad over it. It’s… not really fun getting yelled at by someone you love, you know?”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah.”

Of course nobody liked getting into fights with their loved ones. He sure as hell knew that he’d blow a fuse if you yelled and insulted him the way he had.

“I have anger issues…” he mumbled.

“I know,” you said. “But you’re not as bad as you used to be.”

Lucas could only promise to get better going forward, and with your encouragement, he was sure that he’d be able to do it. But he’d have to try hard, and he knew it.

“Y'ave been hella stressed lately. Want me to help you study later, or somethin’?” He offered.

“If you have time, that’d motivate me.”

“Yeah, I got time. Don’t got much to do in the first place.”

You turned around to face him, wiping the remainder of your tears and offering a small smile before pressing your lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. You then nuzzled Lucas’ chest as he cradled you protectively against him.

Apology accepted.

#fanfiction #lucas baker #lucas baker x reader #reader insert #requests #resident evil 7 #headcanons #ficlet #drabbles

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lennoxstone · 4 years ago

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maggie lindemann & she/her / female ‷ watch out , lennox stone has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-four years old and celebrate their birthday on october 30th . they are from dallas, texas, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a photographer. one thing you should know about them is she can be very stubborn and intense.

tw: death, foster care, mental illness, drugs, child abandonment, neglect, suicide, self harm, blood

Full Name: Eleanor ‘Lennox’ Stone

Age: 24

Birthday: October 30, 1996

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Pronouns: She/her

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Siblings: Two brothers; 12 years old and 1 year old, from the family that wants to adopt her

Mental Illnesses: Bipolar II Disorder

Occupation: Bassist for Graveyard, freelance boudoir photographer

Eleanor Stone, who later renamed herself Lennox Stone, was born in Dallas, Texas to a drug addict. She was very clingy with her mother and had intense separation anxiety, likely due to her mother leaving her alone as early as five years old for one, sometimes two nights, in a row. When she was alone, she’d play the little keyboard in her bedroom, familiarizing herself with the notes eventually and teaching herself, later, to play keyboard. Ellie, her mother called her at that age, slept in her bed with her at night, and her mother believed that Ellie played the card really well of being ‘scared’ to do things by herself, when in actuality, Eleanor was scared. Did she sometimes manipulate because of that? Yes. But at her core was deeply ingrained fear that her mother would leave her forever. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was dead. She only found out in her young teenage years that he took his life, and was an alcoholic, after looking him up and meeting up with a living relative.

One night, Eleanor’s mother had an accidental overdose and showed up with Eleanor at her side at the neighbor’s doorstep. Her mother proceeded to have a seizure right there, with the seven year old girl looking on. The neighbors called an ambulance and they arrived, a social worker meeting them at the hospital. Several calls to CPS had already been made due to strange behavior going on with Eleanor’s mother, and she’d seen people come in and question her mother. Nothing came of it then, but this was the final call.

She believed for a long time that she was wrongly ripped from her mother at a young age, but it was only later that she came to have feelings of hate for her biological mother. Seven years old and withdrawn, she was mute for a year at her foster home. She said nothing to her foster mom, but would talk at school and to the therapists and to her foster dad. She manipulated him often, and ignored her new mom completely. Truthfully it was too painful to have a new mom. She told the therapist everything was fine. Nonetheless, her foster parents gave her up, and she went on to her second home at eight and a half years old. She stayed with them for three years. At nine, she would cut her wrists just to feel something. Her foster parents believed it was an act of manipulation, but it wasn’t at all. This time, she responded to therapy and stopped cutting her wrists for the most part, though she sometimes does even to this day when things are really bad. At ten, she had night terrors and would wake up screaming horrifically. She had moments where she would stare emptily, or just stop talking mid-sentence, and it scared both of her foster parents. Again, manipulation or acting--’faking’-- was suspected. She was later diagnosed with depression and reactive attachment disorder.

At eleven, she got into her parents’ liquor cabinet and in a fit of rage smashed all the bottles, cutting her feet accidentally as she tried to leave the kitchen, and her parents found her, horrified, blood and glass all over the floor. She, luckily, didn’t have an infection when they rushed her to the hospital with nasty cuts and open wounds all over her feet and knees.

She would scream out for her mom at night, and when her foster mom came to her side, Eleanor pushed her aside and screamed in her face. She said, “Fuck you! You aren’t my real mom!” They frequently cried at night, at wits end with this child who they had welcomed in their home who wouldn’t bond with them. They finally came to think that they weren’t suited to be her parents, and it was with a heavy heart that they stopped being her parents and she went on to the next home.

Eleven and a half, she found a permanent home--well, permanent until she aged out of the foster system at sixteen, and decided instead of staying with them, she’d start her life somewhere else, and picked a random place. While the time lasted, anyway, it was for the first time that Eleanor was able to bond with a foster family. They had a cat that she loved and a baby boy. So, why, did they want her? Well, they told her---because they had lost a child a few years ago, and they felt something when they first saw Eleanor. They felt that they intensely wanted to give her a good home.

She thrived with them for the first couple of years, getting involved in music, fine tuning her skills on the keyboard, and branching out to other instruments, feeling like she was finally good at something, even had a natural talent for it.

She began getting into alcohol and smoking marijuana at fourteen. They found it in her room and questioned her about it, not upset at all, very gentle. It was due to their gentle parenting that she decided to quit what she herself even believed was acting out. At least in that way. She still went out at night a lot without telling anybody, just needing to escape. She would mostly walk by herself, but she had one good guy friend, Matthew, who would be awake whenever she called. Eleanor fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. They were together for two years. During that time span she had found out the truth about her father, that he had been an alcoholic and had ended his life. She had enough of Texas. Her parents assured her she had a place with them for as long as and whenever she wanted it, but she left without a proper goodbye. She called them a month later to let them know where she was. She was staying at a friend’s house (someone she’d met and partied with upon landing in Roswell--they knew each other a week before she moved from her motel into their apartment.) She and the other female quickly began a romance, full of drama. She began questioning a lot about herself. Playing around with her identity. Who she was. What she liked. What she believed. But mostly, she was reckless, restless, and impulsive.

Seventeen, she changed her name unofficially from Eleanor to Lennox, left her girlfriend, and became apart of a group who were forming a band, moving back and forth from place to place. She’d become even more musical, and it had become a discipline for her, even; it was the one thing she felt like she was good at, and she took it seriously. It was and is really the only way she can express herself. And she loves the bass guitar, and can also play drums and piano. She felt like it was a good release for her anger. It was then that she found Cyrus, and the two formed a toxic relationship, almost always fighting. She had genuine feelings for him and probably still does, but the relationship wasn’t healthy in nearly any sort of way, and she didn’t feel she could handle that kind of thing anyway. Even though inside she hated being alone, felt this gaping hole in her heart when she was, that gaping hole didn’t take long--that emptiness didn’t take long--before it swallowed her whole again, even when she was right there in someone’s arms. Maybe the echoes of her childhood catching up with her?

She’s a tortured soul, feels like she’s lived way longer than her twenty-four years, and the “accidental deaths” that happened when the band was hanging around in mosh pits utterly ruined her. She beats herself up for it everyday, even if it couldn’t have been her fault. She still asks herself, is it my fault in someway, indirectly? She misses Cyrus. Now using music to get to him, even going off on her own and creating a hauntingly angry solo song that was leaked accidentally, showcasing her talent in a way that no one had quite seen before--who knew she could sing, or play the piano so well. And just when they’re working on creating their fifth album. But she was always known, even in childhood, to cause problems. And she did so in Graveyard. Frequently. Acting out, not showing up to meetings, or showing up late, or high. Lennox spends a lot of her days doing drugs and drinking alcohol, finds difficulty in getting through most days without them in some form, and she’s definitely rebellious, even aggressive at times. But underneath all of that is a scared inner child that actually feels things very deeply and loves intensely. In the past year she’s gotten into boudoir photography, and has found she’s decently good at it. She’s managed to accumulate clients, enough that she can afford living at the trailer park. Her foster family moved to Roswell a year ago, after their son was born (a happy surprise), after communicating with Lennox through phone calls and webcam for several years. They’ve just asked her if she’d be okay with them adopting her, even though it seems to her that it’s pointless at her age. Her sleep schedule is shit, as she often finds herself wandering around at night, not able to shut off her mind, thinking about running away and starting her life over someplace else. But she never does it. At least, not yet. The urge to run away in every area of her life is always so strong.

#roswellintro

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azucanela · 4 years ago

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GOING TO A CAT CAFÉ WITH THEM [GENDER NEUTRAL HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS]

FT. AKAASHI KEIJI, KENMA KOZUME, USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

SUMMARY: Going to a cat café with the boys is eventful!

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: domestic, fluff, established? relationship, aged up for no reason

A/N: proudest of ushijima’s that is all akjsdjkasd also disregard random keyboard smashes, i think i caught them all but my cat kinda just did a dance on my keyboard ya know and uhhh yeah if you followed me for haikyuu!! now is the time to get your juice bc i have a [another] tsukki fic in the works

AKAASHI KEIJI

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

100% his idea, or at least hes the one who initiated the date after hearing you offhandedly mention a new cat café coming to town, i feel like akaashi likes cats and dogs so he’ll be happy no matter what. but like cats just hold a special place in his heart because i dunno, akaashi lowkey reminds me of a cat, i have no explanation

akaashi honestly just thinks it would be cute to watch you interact with cats, like obviously he likes cats himself, but like w o w

his s/o AND cats, how could this get better

“Y/N?” Akaashi spoke softly, arms wrapped around Y/N as he rested his head on their shoulder. Y/N hummed absentmindedly as they continued to cut the fruit before them, tilting their head towards him to indicate that they are listening. “I was thinking that for our date next week we could go to the cat café you mentioned.”

Y/N pauses, their hands freezing as they spoke, “are you for real?”

Akaashi smiled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s neck, “yes for real. You said you wanted to go and it sounds fun.”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

He offers them a small smile before pressing another kiss to their cheek, “Not often enough.” Comes his response, earning and eye roll from Y/N, though they lean further into his hold.

“Well, I’m excited to go with you.”

akaashi is the type to pay more attention to you than the cats, he finds your interactions with them entertaining and just all around thinks everything about that is adorable.

he loves watching you in general because he’s an observant kind of person. watching your mannerisms and interactions with others is how he kinda get to know you in his own sort of way, if that makes sense? he just compiles all this information about you in his head

obviously he’ll be petting cats as well but i feel like akaashi is actually really cold, like naturally cold, so cats might find that off putting but also he is probably really good with cats

they’ll be pestering him but he’s just watching you with a SOFT look on his face, like even the other people in the cat café are jealous watching because wow he likes likes you

likes to just hold cats, and cuddle, akaashi seems like the type to enjoy napping and could easily be compared to one himself because i dunno,,, he has cat vibes

Akaashi’s eyes don’t leave Y/N’s figure as he watches them pet the cat before them affectionately, a smile coming onto his face as he silently thanks himself for suggesting this. He absentmindedly strokes the cat seated in his own lap as his eyes meet theirs.

“Keiji we need to come back here.” They exclaim, smile on their face as they stare back down at the cat in glee.

He couldn’t help but wonder if they should consider adopting their own cat, nodding along to her words in agreement, “we should.”

Y/N beams at Akaashi, moving closer to him to press a kiss to his cheek before returning their attention to the cat. In the corner of their eye, they can feel Akaashi’s eyes remain on them momentarily, before his gaze falls onto the cat once more. And Y/N can’t help but smile as they think of what the rest of the day holds.

And the cat they may or may not have been looking into buying.

KENMA KOZUME

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

cat person HANDS down, i feel like this is a universally accepted fact, but cats are just calm. dogs definitely overwhelm kenma, they’re too high maintenance, and he probably finds them gross ngl.

i feel like he’s definitely wanted to go to a cat café with you, he’s just never asked because he thinks you’ll say no or smth

if you don’t ask he will ask eventually though, but i feel like you’d hear about a cat café nearby and be like wait kenma likes cats we should go

“Hey babe?” Y/N spoke from their seat on the couch, feet resting on Kenma’s lap and eyes still on their phone as they stared at the ad for the cat café.

Kenma on the other hand, sat with his eyes trained on the TV screen as he played on his many video games. He’s speaking lowly into the small mic connected to his headphones, but that doesn’t stop him from humming in reply to Y/N’s question as he brings a hand to move one of the headphones off his ear to listen.

“Would you be interested in going to a cat café with me?”

Almost immediately, Kenma turns to Y/N, nodding far more eagerly than they expected. Kenma mumbles something into his mic before the TV screen goes black and he’s taking his headset off before spreading Y/N’s leg to move between them and rest his head on their stomach and look up towards them. “When?”

he would be so excited, like it would be the day of and he’d be trying to rush you out of the house because he wants to go see the cats n o w

don’t even try to talk to him when you finally get there because kenma is SUBMERGED in cats, he is no longer with you, his mind is with the cats. okay??? okay. glad we are on the same page.

kenma knows how to treat cats to get them to like him, he knows how to pet them and approach them, he has done research because he is SO READY to ask you about adopting a cat together— this is basically a proposal, say yes.

in general the cats would enjoy his presence, he’s calm and wouldn’t manhandle them, he understands boundaries and isn’t going to bother cats that don’t want to be bothered

he probably wouldn’t like attract cats, but he definitely wouldn’t scare them off, and if you visit the cat café frequently enough they’ll all definitely start to gravitate towards you because wow!! the guy who gives good pets!!

yeah but dont go to a cate café for a date, you’ll get neglected, his attention is on the cats. he will, on occasion, look towards you and see how you are doing with the cats. this is a test to see if you are worthy of owning a cat with him

if you pass then he now wants to marry you congrats.

slightly off topic but kenma strikes me as the type of person who is just cold all the time

A soft smile found its way onto Kenma’s face as he gently petted the cats, scratching behind its ear before looking up at Y/N, who stared at him with a smile of their own. “Having fun?” They asked, hand on the cat seated in their lap.

The boy in question nodded, leaning downwards towards the cat, “we should come here again.” Y/N is about to reply when the cat in Kenma’s lap reaches up and swats aggressively at his hair, a look of shock followed by another smile making its way onto his face as he allowed more hair to come into his face.

“Yes, we definitely should.”

Kenma looks up to Y/N, cheeks dusted in red as he tilts his head at her, “maybe we could adopt a cat.” He looks back down at the cat before him, “do you think they’d let us—”

“We both know the answer,” Y/N replies before he can finish, “but I’m sure we can look into it.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

honestly

both a cat and dog person but cats hit different

ushijima was probably talking about you with tendou, offhandedly, and he mentioned how he wanted to do something with you for like your anniversary or some sort of occasion or just purely because he is grateful for your existence

and then he was like, “yes I was considering taking them on a date to this—” he’s gonna say a fancy restaraunt and tendou is gonna be like lmao no

"So, what are you doing this weekend Ushiwaka?” Ushijima doesn’t same to take notice of Tendou’s suggestive brow raising, or the suggestive look on his face, much to Tendou’s dismay.

He replies nonetheless, “I intend to take Y/N on a date, they’ve done a lot for me and I figured they would enjoy the new—”

“Let me stop you right there my tall friend.” Ushijima frowned at the interruption but paused, gazing at Tendou with a look of confusion as he grinned widely at the renowned ace. “Cat cafés are the perfect way to express your gratitude to your lover.”

Ushijma tilts his head at Tendou, “cat café?” The questioning tone brings an incredulous look onto Tendou’s face as he stares at Ushijima.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what cat cafés are– you seem like a cat person, there’s no way I was wrong—”

tendou suggested going to a cafe date, and i feel like its because he just has a feeling that ushijima wakatoshi likes cat, and is completely incapable of planning a date well enough

tendou lowkey wants to go— maybe even bringing goshiki along, suggesting that he could observe was elite aces do in their free time, something the young and easily influenced boy would definitely [eagerly] agree to do alongside tendou — but he thinks stalking you and ushijima is like...

ya know, stalkerish. not that this has ever stopped him before, but he has a feeling that ushijima would want to return to the cat café and he’d have another chance to witness his interactions with cats

speaking of

when y’all get there its gonna be... kinda chaotic

this can go two ways for ushijima, like he’s a big guy and i feel like he is on the warmer side because of this and his athleticism and stuff like that, a mini human heater if you will.

he is also very tall and resembles a tree

many cats will love him, coming over to him and winding between his legs, purring against him and enjoying his warmth. but also meowing at him until he p i c k s t h e m u p. ushijima is confused by this, but at some point he does pick up the cat to ask— literally ask — what is wrong, and it stops meowing so he’s like oh okay then you’re fine. he puts the cat down and its BACK TO MEOWING AT HIM AND HE’S???

there’s definitely going to be a cat that literally climbs him, like sinks its claws into his pant legs, and maybe even to the skin, and climbs up his body to try and steady its self on his shoulders

i feel like he has good pain tolerance so he should be fine

but there is definitely going to be a cat that does not like him and its like scared of him because wow!! tall human!! scary face!! no!!

ushijima is probably gonna watch you while all these cats are harassing him for attention, but no— his attention is on you, his beautiful s/o.

Y/N grinned as they watched their boyfriend stare down at the cat that rubbed itself against his pant legs, purring and meowing repetitively as it look up at him. “Babe, why don’t you pick up the cat?” Y/N suggested, gesturing with their free hand to the cat below.

Ushijima offered them a small — and most definitely nervous — smile as he leaned down, eyes fixating on the cat as his hands came to its side and he lifted it upwards to cradle the cat in his arms. “What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes narrowing at the cat in confusion.

Y/N nearly laughed at the question as the cat ceased meowing, prompting Ushijima to frown as he nodded solemnly, “you want to be put down then?” He asks, freeing the cat from his grasp and gently placing it on the ground, only to be met with another, rather aggressive meow.

He probably would’ve picked the cat up again had the small cat that had effectively evaded him their entire time in the cat café not appeared in the corner of his eye. Y/N watched as he turned slowly, gaze falling on the cat that stared at him with piercing eyes.

And then ran away.

A laugh escaped Y/N as they watched the interaction, only for Ushijima to look up at them and frown, huffing as he carefully maneuvered through the cat café in fear of hurting a cat. “Come here— no, stop that. Stop running—” His arms were extended outwards as he slowly walked towards the cat, brows pursed together in concentration.

Y/N simply stared, a small smile on their face as they decided they wanted to do this again.

tags: @therainroguefanfiction @iwaizoom @shawkneecaps @kuroirl @shinaus

@beifongsss [bruh i dont even think you asked to be added but like i cant remember so]

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floraisann · 5 years ago

Text

ateez reaction: you’re addicted to animal crossing: new horizons

➣ requested? ✓

➣ genre: fluff, humor

➣ masterlist

sorry that some of these are kinda dry 😔 i am try

❅♩♬♩❅――

❥ kim hongjoong:

lets you do your thing tbh

you’ll probably just be vibing in the living room with the switch hooked up to the tv and everything’s great when hongjoong just,,,, moves his work over without saying anything

you’re just ???? and he’s just :)))) the “just another tuesday” grin, you know?

after long enough if you ask him why he moved, he just says he “likes the soundtrack” like bro we do be bopping to the animal crossing ost out here in this quarantine joint

watches you play, only making comments when a villager says something REALLY cursed

really likes marshal— he’s funny

not the type to hate villagers either except chops, fuck chops

once yunho shows him how the custom qr code outfit designs work you’re about to have the most stylish lil mayor that ever roamed the earth

probably also borrows your switch to make your town jingle

overall is just confused by the game dynamic, but likes the music and how happy it’s making you :)

you’re gonna have to put the switch down on your own honey, he’s too caught up in bopping to the music while doing his own work to realize you’ve been playing for eight hours

❥ park seonghwa

has the game too, probably bought it for you so you could build “couple islands” and be THAT cute gamer couple

still probably nags you for gaming too hard if too many hours pass and you’re ignoring basic needs to like,,,, get lolly on your island or something of the sort

but lolly’s cute give him 5 mins to fall in love w god cat

sends you cute in-game love letters when you’re headass six feet away from each other in real time

but it’s ok they’re cute and he likes making you blush

brings his pretty flowers to your island he also steals yours but that’s okay

dumbfounded by your blatant aggression towards certain villagers

offers to “trade” villagers with you to make you happy and marshal scares him please take marshal from him

yes he’ll bring you cute snacks as if you were studying

overall happy that you found something you enjoy together, but will make you take frequent breaks so you don’t put off whatever you actually have to do too much

❥ jeong yunho

didn’t get the hype at first. bought the game since he thought it had to be super fun if you were ignoring him for hours at a time to go bug catching LMFAO

yet when he downloads it there’s a catch

mr epic gamer, unlike you, has the luck of a god and generates an actual island paradise and probably gets a ton of shooting star fragments too 😔✊🏻

you’re the one stealing from his island, but it’s okay he loves you 💕

and he doesn’t quite understand the game yet

gives you star fragments because you can’t get any and he doesn’t want you all sad because you can’t make a wand!!

has all the cute villagers, but if any try to move will give them to you

pays off your tom nook debt because with his luck it probably takes him less than an hour to get filthy rich in game

also figures out the qr code outfits early on. yes he’ll try to make you one, yes he’ll make himself match

overall, he gets the game because of you but does it better because it’s yunho why wouldn’t he xoxo

still makes sure you’re doing what you need to before you go off to work on your island for six hours; the type to offer game rewards he magically obtains as a prize for you after you finish your daily work

oh to be jeong yunho

❥ kang yeosang

the president of the epic gamer club

probably persuaded you to buy it with him so he could rob your island of all your goods

makes you both reset the game until your islands both have good items but are different

so he can steal your fruit :D

“y/n, you— no, restart. you can’t have peach trees, i already have peach trees!”

“dates” where you guys lie on his bed with your consoles, literally just exploring each other’s islands

y’all practically end up sharing two islands. that’s how much you play together

invites you to go raid the other members’ islands

cursed humor carries into the game; like he’ll send you crackhead mail when you least expect it and the content WILL be something that’s only funny because it’s Yeosang

“you make me so incredibly happy, y/n. almost as happy as when tom nook first handed me my nookphone. almost”

celebrates with you when you’re both rid of the ugly villagers

overall impartial to your obsession, rather he’s glad he has someone to steal from share with

still will make you take breaks with him. he loves that you’ve got a pretty island but you need to take care of yourself sweetie

if you don’t listen he will randomly come on your island to beat you up with a shovel xoxo yeosang luvs u 😘

❥ choi san

would not mind the game at all if it weren’t making you IGNORE HIS NEED FOR CUDDLES >:(

tbh san would probably whine about being attention starved for an eternity 15 mins until he realizes his whining isn’t working, and he has no choice but to cuddle up to you while letting you do your thing

by that i mean he’s backseat gamer all the way, no i do not accept criticism

he’d probably just plop down next to you and cuddle into your side or lay on top of you— just positioning himself in some way that he can see your gameplay

the type to cling to you while you play while bothering you until you accept his game opinions as fact

can and will make you kick out the villagers he thinks are ugly

“i just want you to kick that smelly limberg out, is that really too much to ask?”

probably spent 10 minutes absolutely losing his shit over the animal crossing language

“WHY ARE THEY TALKING IN KEYBOARD SMASH?”

takes the next half hour to learn how to speak it

so next time you play too long and ignore him, will shut off your switch then lay down on you and scream acnh villager language gibberish in your EAR

"you didn’t have a problem with that voice three hours ago when you were talking to that cat rosie!!” :(

if you really ignore him and never stop playing NOTHING is stopping him from being dramatic and saying smth like “y/n, i can’t take this anymore! choose, me or him!”

“him” is tom nook

why the fuck would you pick tom nook

❥ song mingi

knows the game is popular but wasn’t bothered to try playing

so when he sees you, curled up on the couch in the same position he saw you two hours ago just with one less family sized bag of chips, he quietly sighs to himself and sits next to you

“is the game really that interesting?”

when you nod, he ends up like san and kind of chills with you, backseat gaming mode

except he isn’t yelling at you to kick out the ugly villagers, he can already see you trying on your own

gets shocked when the first tarantula appears and you get bitten

occasionally gives input on what he thinks you can do to have a better island

makes you go on an island tour so he can see what you headass just spent the last week making

actually is impressed by how much work you put into your virtual island

congrats! you’ve unlocked an achievement! : gaming livestream date for song mingi

will decide for himself who the cutest villager is then act cute and ask if he looks like them. it’s probably gonna be kid cat. tell him he does. please, Tell Him he looks like kid cat

basically i don’t think he’d be that put off by you getting addicted to the game because!!! acnl is the most relaxing game ever he likes to watch you while he unwinds after a long day

if you play too long though he won’t really say much, just sit by you pouting like :(((( “lov me”

pls love him, the big babie 🥺

❥ jeong wooyoung

another member that probably has the game, but isn’t as obsessed as you

will beg you for shooting star fragments if you get any though. please get this man a wand

does not get WHY you’re trying so hard on your island layout. literally only wants one villager, his island can go to shit so long as he has that one villager

that one villager is probably gonna be molly or something

another member who learns how to imitate animal crossing speak, except his voice is already in the correct pitch

makes fun of you complaining about a villager you hate but it all comes back to bite him in the ass once moose shows up on his island and he gets it

you guys are having a competition to see who can get sprinkle on your island first

spoiler alert: he wins, he stole her from seonghwa

(he steals a lot from seonghwa)

overall happy with the fact that you guys have a game to play together

but if you grind too hard on your own and ignore him for hours at a time can and will invade your island to steal your fruit and trample your flowers. AND send you spam mail

sorry

❥ choi jongho

doesn’t care for the game, and he’s mostly chill too so he’ll probably just vibe in the other room while you play, waiting for you to finish so he can do something with you

comes out a few hours later when you’re (still) lying on the couch, angrily button mashing while muttering curses to yourself

he’s really confused tbh, he’s seen yeosang play, he knows you don’t gotta go that hard to be a successful mayor, so he HAS to ask what the fuck you’re so mad about

“i’m TRYING to catch a blittering at the moment, but i keep getting these stupid carps!!! i have a debt to pay off, god!!”

becomes infinitely more amused with the game after that point

he thinks its so funny how someone could get heated while playing through probably the most relaxing game ever

watches you fish; he enjoys the puns and seeing you get frustrated when you keep catching those goddamn carps

probably takes the switch from you at one point to try his hand at it and catches a koi fish in his first five minutes

“i guess you just suck at fishing, y/n”

overall pretty unbothered by your love for the game until you start ignoring him

then he will threaten your in-game apples, saying he’s .2s away from stealing one of his members’ switches just to brawl with your trees

and we all know who’s gonna win between jongho and apples

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez humor #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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lucarioisinthevoid · 4 years ago

Note

Bonbon...just bonbon. Just bonbon stuck to his hand. And he has to make a choice to put up with bonbon, or cut off his own hand.

(Amazing idea that I cut short due to being so fucking tired and filled with writer’s anxiety to the MAX, smashing my head into the keyboard, but not wanting to keep abandoning the damn blog. Hope this is still fine though! I really need to cut back to shorter asks again, I should have considered that before making a “series” of this. At least it’s going to be done soon!)

Sometimes, your brain tells you to do stupid things. TRULY stupid things. Henry certainly was no stranger to it, not at all. Though usually he had a little bit more… of a reputation what to uphold. ‘What is the worst that could happen?’ That was the standard question to consider, the one thing to maintain at the forefront, while also eying the potential benefits of the risks. What was the worst that could happen? Usually death. That has prevented Henry from doing quite a few nonsensical actions, ranging from petty theft of objects he never needed, to making himself a name as a Serial Killer. Nonsensical ideas, with no rewards, and potentially risky chain reactions that could lead to the destruction of his entire work. It was for the better that they had gotten buried in his mind again, Henry would have been even more upset with himself now, looking back on his life, otherwise. Yet, now? Nothing was stopping him from the worst. Death? Never heard of ‘em. If you only wake up again in the same place as you were before, death lost its biting edge, it became old news, hardly worth a second thought. And this led to more and more bad ideas. However, today’s bad decision had taken the cake. Henry had sat down behind the desk just a moment ago, the night barely even started. Only few animatronics were roaming, thus it wasn’t anything to pay too much attention to. Maybe a few interesting conversations would come out of it- but that was it. So, instead he began picking apart the office. It wasn’t the common one, it was made out of steel and darker than the regular one, instead there were blinking lights shining- pizzas made out of plastic and glass, stage lights to the sides, and the eyes of two animatronics that were- probably not capable of coming to life. Probably. A shiny mask of Funtime Freddy’s and- The Puppet. The OTHER Puppet. God, when was it that he had designed and planned out THIS robot? It must have been when- … never mind that. Prying his attention away from the frozen machine, peacefully smiling, with its eyes glowing golden- Prying his attention AWAY, he turned to the table, where the small handpuppet of Bonnie was sitting. The panel to the side, filled with buttons and levers, was also interesting, but he would look at that later. The little machine seemed like a great opportunity to inspect if the animatronics were actually still working as they should have in reality… or if perhaps they were only plastic shells, filled with only the intent of the soul that created this place. He wasn’t sure what it would tell him about the maker… however more information was always useful. It was a light machine, in general. Its weight would still surprise anyone who wasn’t familiar with machines, but all in all? A lightweight, nothing to note. Peering into the opening, the Pink Guy noted that it was unnaturally dark inside of there. Even if he held it directly under a light, there seemed to be a void inside, swallowing all light, making it almost impossible to see any mechanisms that were in place. And that was when the terrible idea hit him. Usually there were a few criteria that thoughts of his had to pass before being translated into an action, like ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘what if’- due to his currently freedom of basically anything, it swiftly skipped past these hurdles. Before he knew what he really was doing, he put the little bunny onto his hand- Where it instantly clicked shut, grabbing his arm tightly from the inside. The lights flickered wildly, before the lighting changed to the usual “caught” atmosphere- Quite alarming. Now, there were two options- either a creature has come in from the outside while he was disracted, or BonBon was about to maul him. Seeing as the machine started twitching and booting up, the latter one seemed more likely, so Henry watched the creature with mild interest. What a funny way to kill him. The vengeful soul was rather creative, he had to admit that much. The bunny looked from the left to the right- Then up at Henry, who stared down at him somewhat unimpressed. For a moment both sides stared at each other in silence, then BonBon crossed his arms. “Put me down.” “Oh, I would if I could and in more sense than one. But you seem to be grabbing me.” “Where is Freddy!?” “On the wall, as far as I can see.” Looking at the mask, the bunny frowned for a moment, then swiped its claw over Henry’s eye and cheek, only barely missing the eye itself. Deep red scars were left on the cheek, blood slowly starting to drip down from it, a disgusting feeling in the Pink Guy’s opinion. “NOT FUNNY!” “DO NOT ATTACK ME.” “THEN STOP MESSING WITH ME! JUST BECAUSE I’M SMALL YOU THINK YOU CAN MESS WITH ME, HUH!?” Again he tried to attack, Henry only barely being able to hold him back. “I CAN EAT YOU. I CAN HURT YOU. AND I WILL IF YOU DON’T TELL ME WHERE MY FREDDY IS!” “I DO NOT KNOW.” “THEN FIND OUT!” “IF YOU STOP ATTEMPTING TO HARM ME, I MIGHT.” Finally, Henry was able to let go of the bunny, it wasn’t trying to rip him into pieces anymore. God, that little rat was a little stronger than he liked. “Last time I saw Funtime Freddy- or at least a thing somewhat resembling him- he was in the vents. Thus, the choice- do you want to let go of me and inspect them, or do you want to stay here and search the other rooms first?” BonBon- Benjamin, right? He thought he could remember him being called Benjamin before- looked at him angrily again, then his ears dropped. “I- don’t- I can’t! I don’t know how to! I think YOU did something to make me unable to let go, this isn’t my fault!” Finally, the aggression that had started to build up inside of him subsided, as he recognized this behavior easily. Benjamin was still a child, probably has not been very old when taken and not having been dead for more than a year or two. Raising his other hand, he tried to calm the boy down. “Alright, alright… I did not do anything, but if neither of us can separate from the other, we might have to look together. Would that be okay with you, Benjamin?” Wrong thing to say. “Wh-Who told you my name?! You don’t have a RIGHT to use my NAME-“ Something within Henry SNAPPED, the aggression returning, double as strong. “Please, CALM DOWN.” Finally, this seemed to shut him up. Perhaps it was the heightened aggression in his voice that helped- and while Henry didn’t enjoy trying to scare those weaker than him, this time it seemed to be necessary. This seemed to be the damn reason why that bear was borderline mad and always happy to throw this thing around. Looking at the little thing the man slowly shook his head, then took a deep breath. “Are you calm now, Bon? Good. Good. Amazing.” His tone had changed now, much sharper and colder than before. If it worked, it worked. “Let us have a nice walk now. A nice, long walk, you and I, both of us, maybe we will find Freddy, maybe we will not. And you know what, while we have this walk, we could also have a nice long talk about you. What brought you here, specifically.” “I- I don’t want to-“ Abruptly Henry moved his right hand, where Bonbon was located, almost smashing it into the wall. “Oh. I seem to have slipped. How CLUMSY of me. What were you saying?” It was a bluff. Of course it was. He wasn’t so pathetic as to try and harm a kid. But he also felt sick and tired of being in such a ridiculous situation. For a moment Bonbon stared at him nervously, his jaw slightly tremble, as he was caught between wanting to try and live with the situation, in hopes of it not getting worse, or if he should lash out, here and now, trying to kill the human he was attached to. “Only a little walking and a little talking and maybe we will find Freddy too. Do you not want that?” The easy way out. Old habits die hard. Most people preferred the devil that they knew. Including returning to familiar situations again and again, reenacting them, even if it had hurt before. The small machine pressed its ears against its body, clearly distress, but finally he nodded wordlessly, drawing a smile out of Henry, who was now more than willing to pretend he hadn’t very obviously threatened the kid before. “Fantastic! I am sure we will have a lot of fun. First and foremost, I would like to know, what is the last thing you remember from before waking up here…?” Maybe he would be able to make it up to the bunny a little while on the go. He did somewhat feel bad for him. They slipped outside the office. No animatronics in sight. And Henry for once was looking forward to a long night.

#henry miller #Henry in hell #BonBon

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tinsley-goldsworth · 5 years ago

Text

clockwork

summary: francesca watches ricky and tinsley’s relationship develop as the clock ticks by (week 22 of my 30 weeks of prompts challenge: clocks)

(read on ao3!)

wc: 1558

Francesca Norris has known Ricky Goldsworth for a very long time. She knew him when they were both innocent children who were too young to understand the horrors of the world. They both enjoyed going to elementary school together, and, when asked about their parents, they both always answered with the same “they work in business” phrase because, in reality, their parents’ jobs were very complicated.

Ricky’s mother Lucy Goldsworth was a famous criminal who was infamous for her reasonable rates and efficiency. When someone needed something illegal to be done, Lucy was always the person people went to. Her husband, Ricky Goldsworth’s dad, was a mobster that he worked with Lucy but ending up running off, hence Ricky’s daddy issues. On the other hand, Francesca’s mother was an infamous spy who was well known for her problems with authority and Francesca’s father was a journalist who was not observative at all.

Francesca’s mother met Lucy on a mission once and they both became fast friends, bonding over their shared hate of government officials. Ricky and Francesca became friends because they saw each other so often when their mothers met up to discuss how dumb politicians were.

There was no surprise that both mothers were killed during missions and that left a very important decision for Ricky and Francesca. They had to decide whether they wanted to pursue a different path from their parents or take over their jobs. To this day, Francesca still has no idea whether Ricky influenced her or she influenced him, but somewhere along the line, they both agreed to follow in their mothers’ footsteps, becoming “bad people”, instead of ending what their mothers had started.

Ricky has always been cold, even before he started killing people for cash. His cold behavior makes it clear he always destined to take on his mother’s job. Even as a child, he had little remorse to show for other children who were in his way and while he didn’t exactly deal with them by stabbing them, Ricky was still shoved them out of his way with the aggression he would use to stab somebody. Francesca, on the other hand, was responsible for talking the teacher out of punishing Ricky, which is how she realized that she had a hidden power of sweet-talking and persuasion.

Unsurprisingly, as Ricky spent more time doing his job, he grew more apathetic and whatever little sympathy he had in his heart seemed to have shriveled up and died. Francesca knew that his job required him to practically be drained of any emotion but she was alarmed by the fact that Ricky somehow grew colder as he grew more powerful.

However, Francesca’s alarm disappeared the day that Ricky stopped by her house for their weekly weekend conversation about life updates and such, since the two still remained best friends even after their new jobs dominated their lives. Francesca was adjusting the position of her clock on the wall (the time read 9:14 at night) when she heard a knock on the door.

The moment Ricky opened the door, Francesca knew that something was up with him. Her instinctive habits of reading people kicked in and she began noting all the signs, connecting them as she went along. Ricky’s top button was unbuttoned and he never left his top unbuttoned unless he was trying to impress somebody, which he didn’t really need to do in order to attract business since he was pretty well known in the criminal world already. So, this meant that he left his top button unbuttoned for somebody who he was not working with, possibly as a means to express subtle romantic interest.

Before Francesca could scrutinize any further details, Ricky made the connections for her when he took off his blazer and excitedly exclaimed, “You won’t believe what happened today! I met the dumbest, but also cutest, detective today when I was working on an assignment somebody gave to me and apparently, somebody else tipped the authorities off about the assignment so C.C. Tinsley was there and he was definitely not the detective to send because first of all, those long legs are totally wasted if he’s just standing around solving cases all the time and second of all, he got really distracted by my flirting and I managed to slip away with the goods before he could notice. He was really cute though, I’m thinking about seeing him again.”

Ricky paused his rambling to catch his breath and Francesca was shocked into utter silence. She hadn’t heard Ricky talk about anybody so passionately ever in their countless years spent together and she seemed to be unable to process the notion that Ricky Goldsworth wasn’t completely emotionless. Maybe Ricky had finally lost his mind after years of trauma from the horrors he witnessed during his assignments; that would be a more reasonable explanation than the suggestion that Ricky might be catching romantic feelings for somebody.

“I’m going to take your silence as support. I’m going to see him again, and hopefully ask him out, and maybe this can go somewhere,” Ricky concluded before he took out Francesca’s knife-sharpening tools from her cabinet. Normally, Francesca would’ve teasingly rolled her eyes since he always used her knife-sharpening tools, even though he had a perfectly functioning set at home. Instead, she was still so shocked that she just watched Ricky sharpen knives as he hummed happily to himself.

The next time Ricky spoke about C.C.Tinsley, Francesca was just about to go to sleep. It was 1:32 am and frankly, Francesca was more than ready to go to sleep after a long day of staying in disguise for her latest mission. She just finished removing her wig when she received an incoming call from Ricky. Usually, Ricky preferred to stop by to chat so this meant that Ricky either had something urgent to say or something extremely quick.

Nevertheless, Francesca picked up just in case the case was the former and, just her luck, the case was the latter. Before Francesca could even ask Ricky why he was calling her, Ricky began rambling about C.C. Tinsley.

“Guess what? I talked to him again and convinced him to go out on a date with me! It’s going to be great. But I mean, I obviously maintained my cool and stayed calm but I’m really excited! I know you’re probably planning to sleep right now so sorry for calling you but I just wanted to give you an update! Good night!”

Francesca was very certain that Ricky was either possessed, had too much sugar, or was truly infatuated with this detective for him to sound so energetic at 1:32 in the early morning.

That was not the only instance where Ricky contacted Francesca in the dead of night (or extremely early in the morning). At 3:25 am on a Wednesday night, Francesca woke up since her mission started at 5:30 and she needed two hours in order to get into her disguise. She received a chain of text messages from Ricky about C.C. yet again. This time, it was about how C.C. agreed to finally move up to boyfriend status.

As Francesca put her lipstick on, she read the enthusiastic texts that were all punctuated with several exclamations marks and random keyboard smashes to express the feeling of being overwhelmed with emotions. She was glad that Ricky hadn’t started using emojis to unironically express himself because that would be the most concerning action out of all the actions he did so far. Francesca replies with a few words of encouragement and then told Ricky to sleep and save his love for later.

There were so many more instances where Ricky talked to Francesca about his boyfriend. He invited her to his housewarming party when he and C.C. moved in together at 12:34 am on a Sunday night (technically Monday morning). He also sent her photos from his first vacation with C.C. in some secluded place in the middle of nowhere that had breathtaking views at 7:45 on a Tuesday evening.

The most memorable one was the most recent one, which was exactly at 2:45 in the early morning when Francesca received a call from Ricky. She predicted that it would be about Tinsley and she picked up, half-awake. “Hey Ricky, what’s up?”

“Fran, I’m getting married! I just proposed to Tinsley and he said yes. Would you like to be my best man? Well, I mean, technically you’d be my best woman and it goes against tradition but screw tradition.”

“Are you kidding me? I’d love to!” Francesca practically squealed, standing up as joy coursed through her veins. “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

This is what led to Francesca standing at the altar, giving a speech about the specific times that Ricky talked about his fiancé and how the clock seemed to play an important role in the evolution of their relationship. She finished her speech and Ricky and C.C. finally got married after years of being in love at exactly 6:19 in the evening on a Sunday. Their relationship was the definition of clockwork and Francesca felt a little emotional at the thought of her being able to see how they decide to write their future.

click the link in bio for more bfu fics!

#sam's 30 week prompt challenge #fics #tinsworth #fanfiction #ricky goldsworth #c.c. tinsley #cc tinsley #francesca norris #bfucu #buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #buzzfeed unsolved cinematic universe #fluff

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spikeymarshmallows · 5 years ago

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new followers?

....Okay, so I somehow have managed to gain a bunch of followers in the last 72 hours. Like, not just one or two, but like, more in 72 hours than I have in the history of this blog...

First of all: are you lost? I promise, I do not post much quality content.

I wonder if I should make a “Before You Follow”.....

I think I’m gonna make this my “before you follow” lololol.

Anyway, if you’re not lost! Welcome to my blog!

I’m Spikey, but because we’re friends, you can call me Spikey.

I am a ~mixture~ of things. I love TUA, and specifically ship Kliego. But I’m also a dirty, filthy multishipper and love me some Horrance, Even Trio, among other things. But the important bit to know is: I ship the TUA siblings together. If that is a squick, or a trigger, please, just unfollow. I don’t mind.

If you are only interested in my writing, maybe this is the blog for you! It’s 99% fic updates, and the occasional thing that reminds me of my fics.

I’ve also started a misc “hippy/witchy stuff” blog. It’s pretty disorganised rn.

But if you’re here for other stuff, I have....

An ADHD infodump + an ADHD tag

A “lol” tag

Stuff on asexuality

And then some politics kinda thing.... like “eat the rich”

I have been on the interwebz since I was Too Young, and am a big fan of “curating your own experience”. As such, I believe in liberal blocking of people. If you’re blocked by me, and you’re wondering why, it’s probably because you posted something anti-like, or reblogged a lot of anti-posts. Soz brah.

I have a background in psychology/sociology/anthropology, and am a dirty filthy liberal who supports controversial ideas such as “universal healthcare”, “free education”, and even “universal basic income”. I don’t hate all of capitalism, and I think that arguments conservatives make about lefty’s are bullshit, but I try not to get into that in what is meant to be, overall, my happy place.

Despite the crippling depression and sometimes very sad posts, I am a firm believer in aggressive positivity and think that, unless they’re nazis, you should always choose to be fucking kind.

I think a nice way to welcome people to this blog is to share some love with other people and their fanworks!

So, here! Have a few recs!

UnrememberedSkies’ “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”. Honestly, I cannot rec Rem’s writing enough. I put off reading this series because it listed horror, but honestly, I’m a fucking baby about anything remotely scary and I adore this series. I want to shove it in my mouth and keep it there forever.

sweetstuff’s “The Fools’ Journey”. Okay, so I haven’t read this (YET), but I know sweetstuff and without even having read this yet, I know it’s going to be spectacular. The only reason I haven’t gobbled this fic up yet is that I’m very trapped in depression and also writing my own epic rn.

achilleees is someone everyone in the Kliego fandom probably knows about, and their fics are *chefs kiss*. But if you feel like trying something new, their Five/Diego fics introduced me to a whole new world. [Please note--Five is aged up!]. My favourite is definitely “a win-win proposition”.

achilleees may have gotten me interested in aged-up!Five/Diego, but Electra-XT kept the flame going. I am particularly fond of “Need a Vacation” because it has some glorious wit and snark, but it also has this one particular scene with Five that I have maybe sent to numerous people with a series of keyboard smashes. I won’t spoil it. You’ll know it when you see it.

If you’re interested in meta, and also salt, rappaccini is where I suggest you look! I’ve never known anyone to notice things like she does, or to think about things in the way she does. I am constantly blown away by her mind. Also, she’s a neato writer! She writes a lot for Fiveya, but “family feud” will forever be one of my favourites.

sarkywoman also has some amazing fics! “The Price of Parenthood” destroyed me. She’s also an incredibly lovely, lovely person and I enjoy our interactions and her blog a bunch!!

c0ffeebee does some of the most beautiful fanart I’ve ever seen. Also, turns out we used to run in the same fandom many years ago! How neat is that???

I’m certain I’ve forgotten some amazing people....

Some other Good Eggs are:

Anyway. Thanks to all the new people for the follow. But uh, yeah! If you’re an anti... or a minor... or just hate harcest....... this is probs not the blog for you!

#long post #spikey recs #before you follow #personal

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parkneroses · 6 years ago

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hi!! can you do 17 for parkner? just found your acc and i love it! i needed more parkner accs to follow

17 - “Guess who broke their nose? I broke my nose!”word count: 1656 | if you enjoy this, buy me a coffee?

Harley ran into the intern’s lab grinning like an idiot.

“PETER!”

Peter didn’t look up from his laptop. The bags under his eyes seemed to reach the floor, and his table was littered with loose papers and empty coffee mugs stacked sky-high. He clearly was not in the mood to deal with Harley’s enthusiasm right now.

“Guess who broke their nose?” Harley was bouncing on his heels, energy rolling off him in waves. Peter’s neck snapped up, but before he could say anything, Harley cut in. “-It was me! I broke my nose!” He was still smiling so wide Peter was surprised his jaw wasn’t aching. Harley turned to the side to show off the state of the art bloody purple bruise on his very, very broken nose.

Peter turned back to his screen and sighed. He was just so, so tired. He felt himself faceplant into his keyboard but he didn’t register it until Harley said, “Peter? You’re messing up your code.”

Peter lifted his head up and groaned at the page full of keyboard smash he’d managed to type with his forehead.

“Harley… you are so stupid I am in physical pain from just being in your presence.”

Harley was still smiling, as though he couldn’t even feel the fleshy bloody alien monster that was crawling out of a hole in his face. Peter rolled his shoulders to wake himself up and pushed himself out of his chair.

“Med bay, c’mon,” He grunted as he pulled Harley by his shoulder into the elevator.

This elevator was smaller than Peter remembered.

At least that’s how it felt as Harley stood entirely too close to him for comfort.

Or perhaps comfort wasn’t the right word. There was something to be said about how Peter’s heartbeat slowed whenever Harley was around. He could feel his tension melt away, and the constant ringing in the back of his head- his spidey senses, or anxiety, or whatever it was that made him feel like he was a puppet whose strings were far too tight- would let up and he could finally feel truly calm.

But he couldn’t appreciate that right now. Not when Harley’s chest was almost pressed up against his own, breath tickling Peter’s cheeks. And especially not when he noticed Harley’s nose-bruise (his nuise?) was turning green around the edges. Peter sighed dramatically and figured they could get this over with quicker if he stopped staring longingly into Harley’s face hole and actually sorted out the cause of this. The elevator opened up on the 87th floor- Medical Services (because of course the Avengers needed an entire floor dedicated to stitching up the one or two wounds that hadn’t healed by the time they made it out of the alien robot infested warzone that was downtown Manhattan. No, Mr Stark, that’s not overkill at all. It’s not like people are out there starving or anything). Peter dragged Harley out of the elevator to the beds by his wrist. Harley didn’t seem to want to complain about the close contact, even if he was dripping blood on Peter’s sleeve. Peter gestured vaguely to a bed and he sat down on it.

“Gonna fix me up all nice and good, Madam Pomfrey?” Harley grinned up at Peter, who was fixing a bowl of water and a washcloth.

“Wish I was Madam Pomfrey. Maybe I could make a potion that would finally shut you up,” Peter muttered with no real edge to his voice, as he began gently washing away the blood. ‘How long ago did you take painkillers? This is really wide and really deep. I’m gonna have to stitch this up.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s what she said. Second, I didn’t take painkillers. I came straight here after I finished beating up Flash,” Harley said, still smiling up at Peter like the little ray of idiotic, aggressive, impulse control-less sunshine he was.

“What? You’ve been smiling at me this whole time, and you didn’t even take- hold on a second, did you say Flash?” Peter asked, dropping the washcloth on his lap, creating a large wet patch that Harley would surely tease him for later. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, not when Harley just said he’d been beating up Flash of all people. How had they even met? And what could Flash have possibly done-

“Tony told me he’d been bothering you, so I found him after your decathlon practise and he was bein’ all dick-ish n’ shit- said somethin’ like, ‘Oh, are you Parker’s boyfriend? Come to threaten me for not sucking up to him? You best friends with Tony Stark too?’”

Harley’s Flash impression was all off. He pitched his voice way too low, and his attempt at a New York accent was abysmal. Nevertheless, Peter couldn’t help but blush when Harley said the b word. He felt his chest warm as he imagined what that might be like. Probably pretty similar to how they were now, spending most of their time attached at the hip, bickering constantly yet always being there for one another when they needed it. Except, being Harley’s boyfriend might involve more… kissing. And other stuff. Peter thought he might like that.

Harley continued. “And I was like, ‘No I’m not,’ not like there’d be anything wrong with that, I just didn’t like his tone. Anyway, He went on about how you ‘must be good on your knees to actually get a boyfriend, what with your face and personality an’ all,’ his words, not mine. So I punched him, and then he punched me, and then I split his lip and he broke my nose and then I gave him a black eye and I guess he realised I wasn’t gonna let up? ‘Cause he ran away to his fancy car then, so I came straight here. ‘Cause I knew you would help”

Peter had to take a minute to process all of that information.

“You beat up Flash,” Peter said slowly.

“Mhmm,” Harley replied, shit-eating grin still spread across his face.

“Because he called you my boyfriend?”

Peter knew that wasn’t what Harley had said, but he needed confirmation.

“No, I beat him up ‘cause he was being a dick about you. I didn’t really mind that he called me your boyfriend.”

“You… didn’t mind,”

“Nope,” Harley clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought. “I don’t think it’d be that bad. I mean, we’re basically already boyfriends, just instead of kissing you in real life, I only do it in my head,”

W-

Oh fuck.

Harley hadn’t meant to say that.

But Peter didn’t seem to mind.

Seeing as they both seemed to be on the same page about ignoring the garish wound that was still leaking Human Juice down Harley’s face, he said,

“You know you can kiss me in real life too? If you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

Wouldn’t mind was an understatement, but that didn’t matter. Harley looked at him thoughtfully, head cocked to the right like a golden retriever.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Peter nodded earnestly, so Harley took that as his cue to scuttle closer to the edge of the bed, and took Peter’s face into his hands, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin.

“Harley,” Peter breathed out, a pretty pink blush spreading across his cheeks for the tenth time that day. Harley only chuckled and leaned in closer.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” He whispered as he cupped Peter’s cheek with one hand and brought the other into the curly mop of hair that was tickling his forehead. He gently pulled Peter closer to him, pressing their lips together briefly, before pulling back to gauge the reaction.

Peter, definitely did not squeak. And when he spoke, his voice definitely very much did not break. “T-that was so gross,” He mumbled, scrunching his eyebrows in a way Harley would have considered adorable, had it not been for the heart-wrenching words that had just come out of Peter’s mouth. Peter seemed to notice Harley’s smile drop and was quick to explain himself.

“No! That’s not what I meant, I mean, I have blood on my face. And it’s not my blood. That’s not supposed to happen! The only blood that’s supposed to be on your face is your own blood! I mean, no, there’s never supposed to be blood on your face, that’s ob-”

He was cut off by Harley’s lips pressing against his once again. It was a nice feeling if he could just ignore-

“Harley, can I get you some painkillers and stitch up your nose before we continue this?”

Harley’s shoulders dropped in exasperation, but he didn’t argue.

“One condition.” Harley lifted up a finger.

“Harley, you’re bleeding out through your nuise. No conditions.” Peter busied himself threading a needle. Harley reached out a hand to stop him. He was met with the same dry look Peter gave his computer screen when it refused to do his work for him.

“When we’re done playing doctors, we’re gonna go upstairs and play Mommies and Daddies instead,” Harley said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Peter groaned, and resumed threading his needle, now with far more passive-aggressive energy.

“You’re gonna regret saying that when I’ve got a weapon in your face.”

And they laughed together merrily, until Peter stuck his needle in Harley’s face. He winced at the contact and shot his arm out to push Peter away. Peter snickered, relishing in Harley’s pain.

“All’s fair in love and war, Harley.”

“This isn’t war, Peter.”

Neither of them touched on the other part of the phrase. That was a topic for another time. For now, they were content to just be happy together, with their whole lives ahead of them (and plenty of opportunities for Harley to stick needles into Peter’s face, they were sure).

#parkneroses #fic #marvel #marvel requests #peterharley #parkner #parley #keenker #potatowebs #spiderlad #im not great at endings sorry #i hope you like this anyway #if ur reading this drink water

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tmntxreader-fics · 5 years ago

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fuCK IM EXCITED FOR PART 3! Im a h u g e sucker for soulmate SUs and fuck itf this one aint hella good- i do like how you made the reader's reaction because when she whent crazy on Raph that's- that was both hilarious and very... In character honestly- the only thing that i guess would've been cool is if while reader was examining the turtle the line "the glass has prettier eyes than me" came back because that was,, a very good line 👌 either way im running out of room aMAZING JOB AND THANK U💕

SKEEEEEEEEEE

YOURE SO SWEET UGH holding back my urge to keyboard smash aggressively because W O W T H A N K Y O U S O M U C H

IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT AND THAT YOURE ENJOYING IT SO FAR OMG and IM REALLY GLAD YOU LIKE THE READERS REACTION.

I definitely want to elude to the "glass has prettier eyes" than me scene in the next chapter and I'm really happy you actually pointed that out so that I know people arent gonna be like "lmao wut".

I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING DAY AND THANKYOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR DROPPING IN AND LETTING ME KNOW HOW YOU FEEL! ❤💙❤💙❤💙💙❤💚💚🧡💙🧡💜❤💚❤

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milkboxing · 6 years ago

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STRIKING GOLD ↯ txt

SUMMARY ⋮ your somewhat notoriously influential high school garage band urgently needs a replacement to their keyboardist whose arm is broken and you happen to be, at the precise instant they find you, free-styling the tomato song on the antediluvian piano found in the music room.

GENRE ⋮ humour, rock band!au, high school!au

ZAK’S NOTE ⋮ guitarist!beomgyu kept darting from one corner of my mind to the other and i just couldn’t help but write this shit.

Committing irreparable mistakes was one of the few things that Huening Kai was known to be good at by all, and even if he knew the repercussions that his broken arm due reckless biking would have on his band and the performance they were supposed to give for the upcoming school festival, the chances of him wearing his elbow pads would most likely be one in a million. He was nevertheless the happy-go-lucky and sickly optimistic boy he was and despite the fright he gave to his elder band mates, they chose to overlook his misconduct after a few inevitable reproaches. However, as much as they wish they did not have to race against the time that was quickly catching up with them, they could not let down the school, their local audience and all the threatening fingers pointed at them. Precisely. Like that of the vice student council onto whose frail shoulders the accountability of preparing for that event of capital importance reposed. Rumour had it that she was planning the murder of Soobin, the band’s leader who was also her prime partner as the previous student council but the latter was so taken up by rehearsals that he was bound to ditch the poor girl.

“For the last time Soobin,” she hissed, poking the tall boy’s chest, a visible crease between her eyebrows, “I have painstakingly managed to deal with everything encompassing the festival so far, if you plan on calling it quits with your band, you better be giving me a helping hand. . .” She was unable to complete her sentence as he heaved out an exasperated sighed. “I’m sorry,” he softly let out, running a hand through his hair, avoiding all eye contact with her, “I’d gladly do that but the dean is counting on us and he firmly believes that with or without Kai we should be in a position to perform. He says that we’re his meal ticket, whatever that is supposed to mean.” The girl frowned and Soobin’s pupils were then shaking a little. “I can’t put my hand on someone to replace Kai yet,” he added, “I’m sorry once again, Eunji. Once our lives are back to normal I’ll treat you to tteokbokki or any food you like and you have my word this time!” Soobin left with fast steps after patting her on her shoulder, picking up his pace as he spotted his classmate and best friend, whom you believed to be named Choi Something, at the other end of the corridor. Eunji turned and with battered puppy eyes, watched his back as it shrunk and muttered under her breath, “Screw you and those convincingly cute dimple of yours.”

You didn’t mean to but you happened to hear that part and you subtly reared your head, enough to peek at Eunji behind the door of your locker, her shoulders drooping like withered flowers and her braided hair unfortunately resembling a fringed mayhem. A pat on the shoulder? you mentally sympathised with her, she must have reached the peak of being friend-zoned. Banging the aperture of your locker shut, you readjusted your duffel bag on your shoulder and checked your watch, incognisant to the fact that the obnoxious noise you had produced snapped the elder girl out of her morose rêverie. Undecisive about what you would do of all the time you had to kill, you roamed around the busy school hallways where students were darting to and fro with boxes, boxes, desks and more boxes but none of the classrooms you passed by was fully empty. Somehow, while your conscience was swimming among the waves of Antlantis, your steps led you to the music room which reeked of mildew and the air was so heavy — especially when the greasy, brownish curtains gave the eerie impression of drawing the four walls closer together, as if the room was gradually shrivelling while the obscurity was lurking around, waiting to seize the opportunity of gobbling you up — that you had to suffocate a gulp in your throat.

Without losing any more time, you casted off your bag and dumped it on a chair, grateful enough that the abandoned desks, despite catching enough dust to permanently change of colours, were not covered in bird or lizard shit as you expected it. You pulled apart the curtains, strenuously opened the rusty windows, the hinges of which categorically refused to move due to rust, turned on the fan and instantly regretted it as the dust started swirling and chaotically flying around the room, making of you a Reindeer Rudolf who could not stop sneezing. To top up the whole thing, you stubbed your foot against the piano bench while you were blindly reaching out for the button to switch off the fan, your eyes stinging. Five minutes later, the dust had stabilised, the room was well aerated, the odour had either dissipated or been assimilated by your complex organism to such an extent that you couldn’t smell it the same way anymore, and your fingers were lazily gliding along the keys of the old piano. Loud footsteps and muffled voices that you knew belonged to the members of your somewhat notoriously influential school band could be heard in the corridor but you couldn’t care less.

Suddenly, an idea struck your head and you would have sworn that if your life was a cartoon, a light bulb would have popped up above your head at that very instant. Using your limited knowledge of whatever you had picked at the piano tuitions you had attended for six years and recently quit, you started skittering your fingers along the keys of the piano, your touch leaving whitened fingerprints everywhere. What seemed much better in your mind to be the melody of the nastily catchy and annoying tomato song, a famous nursery rhyme, escaped from the musical instrument and after a few more tries and unusual determination that you find hard to show for your studies, you managed to upgrade it to the most resembling version of the original song. You were, unluckily, too busy having an intense and sensational performance for your imaginary public, fervently tapping on the keys while humming to the lyrics that you missed to realise that the hallway had grown oddly silent and the door creaked open to reveal a few curious heads, piled one onto the other.

“LUMPY AND GORGEOUS FIGURE DRESSED IN RED—” yelled a voice that you failed to recognise because of how strained it sounded, but that nevertheless called you back to earth and drove you into ending the song with a sinister piano version of a keyboard smash. “—SWEET AND SOUR FLAVOUR, FASHIONABLE TOMATOES!” sang the oldest boy of the bunch, showing up with a seemingly dyed silver hair (unless you were right to think his hair turned grey, from all the stress he bore.) You stared at him, an inevitably judgemental expression adorning your face as the other boys projected either revulsion or amusement on their faces. Except Taehyun, this boy could withstand anything with an intimidating poker face but somewhere you could sense his confusion. “Yeonjun-hyung— hyung—” called out Beomgyu, a sophomore student whom you knew to be the lead guitarist of the band. He was a likeable guy, cheerful and a little irksome with his crazy loud laughter at times but based on what you’ve learnt he didn’t have many friends from his grade and hence hung out with your classmates Huening Kai and Taehyun all the time. “That’s enough hyung, yOU CAN SHUT UP NOW!” he yelled, calling the elder boy back to reason. Thankfully that sufficed, you were ready to fling your bag at the grey haired dude’s face. The two of them winged up bickering while the three others boys turned their faces to you (and that sucks because you had mentally planned on tiptoeing to the door while they were distracted), eerily in synchronisation, their lips stretching into mysterious smiles. Oh fuck, you cursed under your breath, they want something from me.

ii.

“To quote Hamlet,” you exasperatedly explained, slowly and emphasising on each word, “act three, scene three, line ninety-two, NO.” The boys’ faces fell, apart from Kai’s. He didn’t know how to give up and you could definitely tell that from the way his hazel eyes scrutinised you, that he was not going to give you the heave-ho so soon. Kai was a tough cookie — come hell or high water, he would neither avert his firm gaze from you, nor allow you to take the french leave and even less erase that fucking aweless rictus from his mouth. In other words, you were trapped like an artless little rabbit in a den of wolves. “Come on, please. . . [name]. . .? That’s your name, right?” trailed off Soobin, his glances endlessly shifting from his teammates to you, making sure to obtain nods and other responses of approbation. You couldn’t help but remark that despite his eminent presence, he was not especially self-assured for a leader. “Yeah, and no. The festival is tomorrow and there’s no way I could play a fucking keyboard for you. I won’t even be able to memorise the song lyrics,” your eyes widened as you added, “actually scratch that, i don’t even know how to sing!”

“Hey, calm down,” reassured Kai, snaking his arm around your shoulders, “We’re not asking you to be Mozart or Maria Carey. The melody is short and pretty repetitive so just being in tune will do. As for the singing. . . Simply try not to sound too much like a dying whale.” You gave him a sarcastic smile as he dumbly responded with a giddy one. Slapping away his arm, you replied on a passive aggressive tone, “First of all, don’t touch me unless you want to lose the other arm as well and secondly,” you turned to the rest of the boys, “I’d rather keep a low profile, if I ridiculise myself tomorrow I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over the embarrassment of it. . .” The room suddenly fell tragically silent, the tense atmosphere weighing like a heavy load on everyone’s shoulders. “You won’t make a fool of yourself,” spoke up Taehyun. Your eyes met his and he firmly stared back, without showing any sign of emotion, like he usually does and you were reminded of his forgotten presence. “We’re not expecting you to be perfect [name]. There are times when the microphones decide to betray us in the middle of a performance, or a wrong guitar chord, a minimal voice crack that can seem to put it at stake. . . We don’t give perfect stages because we are only here to have the blast of our lives. My point is that, it’s human to make mistakes but that shouldn’t stop you from going forward,” he lectured in the most Taehyun-ish style ever. He had always been the voice of reason, as far as you remembered. “I mean, they usually make mistakes,” he pointed at his members, “not I.” Involuntarily, a giggle left your throat as the four other boys scoffed and wailed disapprovingly.

After five long minutes of debating your inner self and considering all the pros and cons to their proposition of being the substitute of Kai for the festival, you decided to simply say fuck it and gave in. “I’ll do it—” Your sentence was cut short by the band members’ relieved sighs and exclamations. (You were persuaded that the one who cried out for his mum was the grey haired dude.) “—but on one condition!” The boys exchanged confused glances with each other and some of them obviously gulped, fearing that you might want from them something that they could hardly afford. “What is it?” asked Soobin but more boldly than before. “Well, don’t ask me to put on some winged eyeliner, smoky makeup, a leather jacket and Doc Martens or I’m going to turn into the Hulk, crack my fucking shirt open and step on your necks; then run back home to wear a comfy pair of PJ’s!” The oldest of them all replied with a strangled chortle, “Don’t worry about that. As the person in charge of outfits here, I’ve made sure our Lumberzacks theme will be on point.”

“That’s even worse, goodness,” you sighed, “I quit.”

“I’m Yeonjun, by the way,” he introduced himself, coming forward to shake your hand, “Senior year, previous ace of the basketball team and top student. I’m pretty sure you know me already though.” You winced. You didn’t. “Not really but you have a nicer name than I would have thought. I had mentally named you Grandpa, because of your grey hair, you know?” you patted Yeonjun on the shoulder, “No offence though, I love the colouring. Besides, as our dear friend Kang Taehyun, right here, would say; there’s no shame in growing old—” His aura turned from charming kitty to growling dog in a matter of seconds. “If you really sing like a dying whale out there, you’ll be a depilated bitch after the performance.”

“Oh yes, snatch my wig bud.”

iii.

Two hours before the opening of the embellished hall, you were sitting on the cold parquet, amidst the mess of cables and under the colourful projector lights, eating a pizza with Beomgyu and Kai. Newspapers were glued to the windows and the curtains were closed, with only a few glow-in-the-dark stickers in form of spaceships, planets and other celestial bodies glimmering dimly in the atrociously dark hall. The decor was breathtaking; there were painted balls of all sizes hanging at the edge of the stage and ovnis and rocks made of papier mâché surrounded the musical instruments and a marmalade orange and yellowish tie-and-dye bedsheet was hung behind them, portraying a sunset or what the boys believed to be in some way, the atmosphere on planet Mars. Having arduously practised with them and with the generous assistance that Kai brought to you, despite his little piques and the other things he does, rubbing you the wrong way, you felt like you were ready to give an otherworldly show.

Yeonjun approached the three of you, with a hanger, a black sweater dangling from it and the name of their band, TXT, written somewhere on it. He stole the last part of the pizza before handing you the piece of clothing (more like throwing it in your direction.) You heaved out a sigh of relief. It was not like you actually believed he would pull out a pink checkered shirt and an axe for you but for your defence, he sounded strangely convincing when he brought up the Lumberzacks concept, the previous day. “You can keep it,” he said, while taking a seat in your circle, “Mm, this pizza is so good! I’m seriously starving right now.” Kai reached out for a can of Sprite but after a few failed attempts of plucking the tab in order to open it, you had to do it for him. That was when, out of the blue, it hit you. “Hey Kai,” you made direct eye contact with him, “you don’t need your arms to sing, do you?” The boy choked, soda threatening to precipitate down his nostrils as you disgustedly passed a tissue paper to him. “I— I don’t but. . .” he gulped, “you’re not thinking of. . .”

“Yup. I’m definitely thinking of getting you a sweater, a microphone and a damn chair,” you stated, to which he retorted: “Look at how aesthetically appealing the stage is, you don’t wanna drag a chair in the middle and have me in my plastered arm sing in front of the whole school—” You tutted, interrupting him, totally unwilling to hear him whine lamer excuses. “Fuck the aesthetic Ning,” you claimed, “I’m dragging your ass onto that stage whether you like it or not.” He was bound to surrender when Beomgyu added, his cheeks filled with food, “Datsh right bruh shtahp bein ah pushy! (That’s right bro, stop being a pussy!)”

At four, the hall had turned into a hive of activity and three quarter of the whole student body at school was present, their mobile phones as well as a ton of snacks in hand. It was soon filled to the brim, and in the middle of the tumult, you spotted Eunji, strenuously hopping and snaking among the sweaty bodies of the cantankerous students while murmuring “excuse me” nonstop. She was carrying a huge pack of water bottles and you realised that they were for the band but you were internally worried about her visible dark circles and her trembling hands, fearing that she might collapse at any instant. On seeing her approaching the door of the dressing room, you stepped forward so as to receive her. All of a sudden, Eunji tripped over someone’s bag and would have heavily fallen to the ground if Soobin had not bolted at the speed of light to catch her. Some of the water bottles had left the pack and you hastily picked them up from the ground but before entering the changing room again, you slightly peeked at the two oblivious lovebirds. “This festival is not worth you losing sleep over it,” reassured Soobin, grabbing the girl by the shoulder while leading her to a free place (where he had intentionally placed his belongings before) in the front row, “you’ve done a great job and it’s thanks to you if today’s event is a success. Sorry again for being such a dick but if it’s not too much to ask, would you like to stay. . .?” A sparse blush highlighted the tall boy’s porcelain cheeks and a smile made its apparition on his brightened face when Eunji accepted his proposal.

“See you later, then.” He awkwardly waved at her.

“Sure. Good luck Soobin!”

The enthusiasm in the hall was electric. The cheers were deafening and the flashes of the camera would have blinded you if you did not focus on fixing the keys of the keyboard instead of staring at the crowd, in the obscurity, dancing and a particular little group of them screaming along the lyrics. You exchanged complicit, overjoyed glances and smiles with the other members of the band. Soobin’s singing lines, as you had guessed, were mostly dedicated to the vice student council, you concluded as you caught him several times, glancing in her direction. When Beomgyu’s solo part came, the projector lights all focused on him and he went hardcore, passionately plucking on the strings of his beloved guitar, his neck veins popping and sweat dripping down his cheeks. For the split of a second, you felt your own heart skip a beat. Goodness, you soared, he indeed is a ladies’ man. What was at first a performance that you dreaded with everything you had, prolonged with an unexpected encore and eventually ended up metamorphosing into a free-styling concert. At that very moment, you realised that your euphoric self was for the first time in so long, in seventh heaven.

💌 MASTERLIST

#txt #tomorrow x together #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #huening kai #kang taehyun #band!au #txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #txt scenarios #txt blurbs #txt reactions #zakwrites🌥

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