#And i keyword being might cause i know full well my words will fall to deaf ears and my time will be wasted. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wiener-soldiers · 4 years

Text

so, you’re real - tommy shelby

summary: while high off his ass, tommy shelby is approached by a mysterious woman offering him something more valuable than drugs: information. your services become essential to how tommy conducts business, but your anonymity means he can’t help but fall in love with you from a distance.

words: 5.4k

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

warnings: tommy shelby. that’s the warning.

a/n: first tommy fic :D he’s one of the most beautifully complex characters ever in television imo but that also means his kinda nightmare to right. so,,, he might come off a little ooc because he’s very soft!tommy in this. i also wanna write a tommy fic based off ‘why’d you only call me when your high’ by arctic monkeys for obvious reasons.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Tommy Shelby could count the number of people who’s seen him high as a kite on opium with three fingers. Arthur was the first; he drukenly stumbled into Tommy’s room instead of his own one night and the smell of the pipe sobered him enough to start asking questions. Tommy shoved him out and by the morning, Arthur was too hungover to remember a thing. The next was Polly; Tommy stumbled down the stairs as he was high around three in the morning once as he searched the house for more booze. Polly watched from a distance as he sat himself on the kitchen table and wept, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. She chose not to mention it the following morning, but a perscription for morphine found its way to Tommy’s desk a few days later.

The third person... was you.

You didn’t know the Shelby’s personally. You were the assistant of a local Small Heath accountant that dealt with Birmingham’s most infamous clients: local coppers, factory owners, politicians, even gangsters. Your boss was known as the Devil’s Safe—nothing that came in went ot without the client’s consent.

But you weren’t a saint. Being so close to his office at all times and knowing far too much about where the most influential people in Birmingham got their money and where they spent it, it was nearly impossible to keep your mouth shut.

So, you didn’t. At a price, of course.

You quit your job and created a small network of spies that could feed you information about anyone or anything at anytime, using your knowledge about the Devil’s Safe as leverge. You charged whoever could afford for your services, coppers and criminals alike. Some self-righteous copper tried to shut you down once. Keyword: tried. There were too many spies all over the city to try to arrest (that is, if he could find grounds to arrest them), and you were too important to too many important people that arresting you would likely have him assasinated.

That, and you tipped him off about a corrupt police captain who had been trading orphans for cash. It got him a promotion and you a protective shield over your dealings from the coppers.

Tommy first met you at the races. You were hanging off the arm of Roberts, Billy Kimber’s advisor, and he briefly caught your eye before returning his gaze to Grace who stared at him lovingly. He didn’t know it then, but you were analyzing him. His posture, his facial expressions, how he spoke to Kimber, and most importantly, his books that Roberts happened to have a copy of. Nothing went unnoticed by you. The Shelby’s were starting to cause ruckus all over the city and you were interested. But, to maintain your facade, you snuck a few kisses to Roberts’ neck to distract him from your snooping.

When Tommy returned to the table with the bag of cash his brothers had collected from the Lees, you were gone.

---

The second time he sees you, he isn’t even sure if it’s you.

It’s late at night as he approaches The Garrison when he notices Polly standing with another figure in the alley. He slows his steps and silences his breathing, trying to catch the end of your conversation.

“You’re sure this is where she is?” That’s unmistakingly Polly’s voice.

A soft chuckle rips through the air and Tommy suddenly wonders what your voice sound like. “There’s only so many women carrying a newborn and looking that terrified of what may be behind her,” the other voice says. It’s not soft or angelic, Tommy notices. Nothing likes Grace’s. It’s deeper, smoother, and he can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Polly asks back skeptically. Tommy has the common sense to realize she’s talking about Ada who had gone into hiding after Freddie was arrested. Polly hadn’t been able to stay in the same room as him for very long since.

You pull out another envelope from your coat and teasingly dangle it in front of her. “Here’s the list of all of Ada and Freddie’s known addresses. The Communists have them move every few weeks; the address I gave you is Ada’s current address. Go there tomorrow from seven to nine in the morning. Ada’ll still be in bed and Karl will still be asleep. Then, you’ll know I’m right, you’ll give me the full payment, and I’ll give you the rest of the addresses.”

Tommy is slightly stunned at what he’s hearing. They had been trying to look for Ada for nearly two weeks to no avail, but this woman was able to find her that easily?

The woman turns to walk away before Polly can respond and in the street light, Tommy can make out the outline of your face. It was so brief that he couldn’t tell if you were actually there or if he imagined your face in the darkness.

Polly doesn’t notice him as she makes her way back inside the pub. The following afternoon, Polly is pounding on his office door saying she’s found where Ada had been hiding.

---

The third time he sees you, he’s sitting in the empty Garrison with a bullet wound in his shoulder, whiskey coursing through his veins, enough meloncholy and anger to swim in, and a broken heart.

Billy Kimber was dead. Campbell was gone. But, so was Grace.

It was a series of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time: relief, then anger, then happiness, then frustration. Then the shovels started. Then, it all got too loud and he slipped his opium pipe into his coat pocket before going to The Garrison to drink his sorrows away. He had never taken the pipe out of his room before. In that state, he didn’t care.

He doesn’t really know how you got in; he had angrily yelled at everyone to leave the bar when the night was late enough for him to feel emotion and locked the door behind him. Maybe I didn’t lock the door right, he thinks. In reality, you had picked the lock.

“I could’ve told you she’d been working with him,” your voice calls behind him. He’s still hunched over his drink, the pipe lying next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t need her to clarify who she was talking about.

“You could’ve, eh?” Tommy mumbles dangerously. He felt light, but his eyes and his heart felt heavy. He hated the feeling. Oh god, he hated it.

“Hmm,” you hum back, taking a seat next to him. You reach behind the bar and pull out a bottle of gin and poor yourself a drink. Tommy watches you do so. You don’t look like you pity him, in fact, you don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus your attention on the drink.

After taking a sip, you reach into your coat jacket and pull out an envelope, slidding it over to Tommy. You had clearly seen the opium pipe that still had smoke coming out of it, but you gently pushed it out of the way so the envelope rested in front of Tommy’s drink.

“What is this?” he asks, still too high to think straight.

“Consider it a resume,” you quip back, taking another sip of your drink as you study the collection of liquor and spirits on the back shelf of the bar.

“For what?”

“My services.”

“You a fuckin’ whore? You think that’s what I need right now, eh?”

“What I think you need right now, Mr. Shelby, is a sense of security. To be ahead of the enemy. I can give that to you,” you reply smoothly, barely flinching. Tommy notices your voice doesn’t falter even at his jab. He begins to sober up, finaling looking at you.

You had an air of mystery and intrigue. Your eyes looked all-knowing and the corner of your lip was quirked. A white blouse was tucked into a deep red skirt with your black wool jacket overtop of it all. If he was a different man, he surely would have taken you home.

“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

You look back at him, the smirk on your lips growing. “Because I quite like your family. Polly is quite intelligent and Ada is a delight. I also know far too much about you, so it’d be a shame if someone paid be good money to tell them everything there is to know about you. But if you came to me first, there wouldn’t be much of an issue. The rate for ratting out one of my clients is ridiculously high.”

So, it had been you with Polly that night, he thinks. “You’d work for me?” he asks again, tone getting more serious. The last time a woman worked for him, it didn’t end particularly well.

You laugh and Tommy is momentarily stunned. It’s a beautiful laugh that appeared in an awful moment. “I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby.”

And then you left. Tommy stares a the door for a few minutes after you’ve left, wondering if he had imagined your visit the whole time. When he turns back to his drink, the envelope you left behind is a sign that you had been real. He hesitantly opens it and his jaw unhinges at the contents inside: there were several documents, reports, and even pictures tying Grace Burgess and Inspector Campbell together. It seemed so plain and simple once it was laid out in front of him.

Under the flap of the envelope was an address as well as a rate of service. It was high, Tommy couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t deny how the pressure on his chest eased for a moment when he was with you. Even more so when you had left the address.

The next morning, a wad of cash from Shelby Company Limited shows up at one of your drop locations. It’s more than you asked for and quicker than you expected it to come. You smirk softly and get to work.

---

Tommy doesn’t see you again until he pays a visit to Sabini’s club a few years later as he works on his London expansion. He had been a client of yours for nearly two years now and he was continuosly impressed with your work. You literally had eyes everywhere; there wasn’t a place between Manchester and Brighton that you couldn’t get to. You had been the one feeding him inside information about Sabini’s operations in London, as well as how to get Alfie Solomon’s attention.

Despite all this work, he hasn’t seen you since you approached him when he was high in the empty pub. He gets all his information through courriers, telephone calls from messengers, and packages from drop locations all over the city. He asked a courrier once why he hasn’t seen you since.

“No one really sees her, sir. We just get orders in one way or another, we excecute them, and then money shows up. She doesn’t want anyone to tie her to her clients or the boots on the ground.”

“She’s clever.”

“She’s bloody brilliant, is what she is. She’s set up this system so bloody tight that no one really knows how it works except her. One lad up in Coventry tried to turn her in. Went missing a few days later.”

He doesn’t think about you often, but when he does, he’s reminded of that night in The Garrison; how mysterious and beautiful and dangerous you looked, how his chest seemed less tight with you around. Maybe he’s imagined it. Maybe it was the opium clouding his vision. So, he pushes those thoughts away because as far as he’s concerned, you’re an enigma. Hell, he doesn’t even know your name and he’s been paying you big money and giving away too much of his plans.

But he sees you that night when he and his brothers storm Sabini’s club. You’re sitting on a fancy velvet lounging chair, tucked under the arm of what Tommy assumes is a wealthy banker or socialite. You don’t see him (not yet, at least) but Tommy sees you. All Tommy sees is you. The smoke that flows out of your nostrils as your lips curl at whatever attempt at humour then man with you made draws Tommy in. So does the cut of your deep blue, satin dress. He knows it then, that you’re real. That you’re not a figment of his imagination.

“This place is something else, innit?” Arthur remarks as they make their way deeper and deeper into the club. Tommy is still drawn to you as his brothers gawk at the permiscuous behaviour around them.

The party atmosphere doesn’t last long however, as the boys make a show out of trashing the place. Tommy makes sure to put on a performance, to play up the fear. When he shouts something along the lines of being on a holiday, he happens to catch your eye and the first thing he notices is the smirk playing on your lips. He’s first confused as to why but he understands: you had a large part of the London expansion and you also likely knew that Tommy was going to be there that night. You weren’t there with a man. You were there to see him. You were there to see his reckoning.

The image of you tattooed itself onto Tommy’s brain and the feeling he felt in his chest was something he craved to feel again.

---

The next morning, the brothers stumble into Ada’s home, uninvited. Their younger sister begrudgingly lets them in, still clad in her nightgown, and hastily tells them to keep their noise level down as Karl was still sleeping.

It doesn’t last very long.

“You shoulda seen their bloody faces, Ades!” John hollers, mouth full of biscuits and tea. Ada hisses at him for spewing food across the table.

“Didn’t know what was coming, the lot of them,” Arthur adds, already taking a sip from a flask. He was barely sober from the night before and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “Fuckin’ Sabini, Ada. He won’t know what’s bloody comin’.”

“Sabini, eh?” Ada plays along, still slightly annoyed but now intriguied. “You didn’t happen to hit up his club last night, did you?”

“’Course we did!” John snickers. “What’d you think we’d do, start small?”

Ada’s facial expression suddenly changes into one of slightly more concern. Arthur and John don’t notice, but Tommy does. “I was hopin’ you would,” Ada plays it off but Tommy notices.

“Ada?” he asks, voice stern but eyes curious. His sister was intelligent, so much so that her mouth was as good at getting her out of trouble as it was getting her in it. Tommy was sure that there was more than what she let on.

“Tom?” Ada says back, not meeting his gaze and instead taking a bite out her toast and jam.

“Why’re you so hung up on Sabini’s club?” Tommy asks directly, slowly getting tired of his sister’s semantics. He mommentarily understands how Polly feels when he keeps things from her.

Ada sighs, having also attracted attention from her two other brothers. She sets down her toast and looks directly at Tommy. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

“Saw who?” Arthur asks, booming voice too loud for the sudden change of tone in the room. Ada grimaces but still stares at Tommy.

Tommy knows exactly who she’s talking about. But he wonders how Ada does.

“I did,” he says simply.

“Who’re you talkin’ about?” John asks next, looking between his siblings. Arthur shrugs at him.

“Did you say anything to her?”

“No.”

“Good,” Ada says too quickly. Tommy narrows his eyes at her.

“For God’s sake!” Arthur says again, slamming his tea cup back down onto the table. “Who in the bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

Ada rolls her eyes and continues eating and Tommy is left to stare at his brothers. He wants to answer. He wants to answer so badly. But he doens’t even know her name.

“I—” Tommy trails off. He’s rarely rendered speechless, but he is when it comes to you. Who were you? Why did Ada know you? Why can’t he get you out of his head? Why does he hope you’re standing there in the shadows every time he steps out on the street?

“You? You what, Tom?” John asks this time, equally as exasperated.

“He doesn’t know and it should stay that way,” Ada says simply. “She offers you a service, you pay her, end of transaction. Stay away from her Tommy, I mean it.”

“What service?” John asks again, still getting more questions than answers.

Tommy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “After Grace, she offered me a service. Cash in exchange for information. Said she knew that I needed a sense of security.” She was right, Tommy thinks but doesn’t dare say.

“Information about what, exactly?” Arthur asks, voice dropping an octave as he leans forward.

“Everything. Anything and everything. She knows everything. I don’t have the slightest clue how,” Tommy answers honestly, his own disbelief being obvious for the first time.

“She can betray us...” John warns, skeptical especially after Grace.

“She won’t,” Ada says simply.

“How do you know?” John challenges.

“She won’t,” Ada reaffirms with a glint in her eye. John immediatley backs down. Ada doens’t trust easily, especially after Freddie.

Tommy believes her. You know too much, far too much. More than he or you had bargained for. You also gave too much. Tommy asked for one thing, you gave him what he wanted and more. Tommy wanted a brief description of the shipping business in Bristol, you gave him an itemized list. Tommy asked you to keep an eye out for any potential threats, you gave him incredibly precise weekly reports. He asked people what your service was like as if he didn’t already know himself: you were never this thorough. He knew you wouldn’t betray him because you would have done it already. The question is, why did Ada trust her?

“You know who she is, don’t you?” Tommy asks his sister once again, doing his best to intimidate her. It’s no use.

“I do,” Ada says simply.

“Even her name?”

John scoffs. “You don’t even know her bloody name and you’ve got that look like you’re in love? Jesus, Tom! You need a good fuckin’, I’m telling you.”

Ada ignores her brother’s comment. “Even her name.”

Tommy gestures for her to elaborate and Ada hesitantly continues, “Polly paid her to find me after Karl was born. She found me personally, not through a messenger. We got along quite well, she was very honest about what she’d been hired to do. She gave Polly that information she was looking for, but we kept in touch. Personally, I mean. I like her.”

“Tell me her name, Ada.”

Ada makes a face of fake appeasement. “Can’t do that, sorry Tom.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “Ada...” he warns.

Ada’s glare mathces his own. “Her identity is all she’s got Tommy. The minute a client knows who she is, it all falls apart. For the love of God, for your safety and hers, don’t find her.”

And hell, does Tommy want not to listen. He wants to find you again. To see you. To speak to you. To learn your name. To feel the weight in his chest lighten once more.

But you remained impossible to find. Even with his London expansion, he wasn’t any closer to finding out who you really were than the day you first spoke to him at The Garrison.

So, he tried to push his thoughts away. He didn’t get so lucky.

---

He was used to receiving messages from you on Sunday evenings before the week began and Thursday mornings before the week ended. Sometimes, they’d be in the form of a phone call from a messnger reading a message written by you. Other times, he would visit a drop site where he picked up parcels of information and evidence you had collected. Fridays were paydays, so he’d get a Blinder to drop a parcel of cash (though they never knew it was cash) at a drop site and wait for a courrier with a blue ribbon pinned under the lapel of their overcoat to retrieve it.

All your foot solidiers and clients wore the ribbons. You avoided paper trails so everything was with symbols. Ribbon colours were a discrete way for both the client and the courrier to tell who was who. Clients wore white ribbons, courriers wore blue ones, messengers wore green ones, and red ones were used for emergencies.

That’s why Tommy panicked when a man burst into his office late at night the day before he was set to take down Sabini, urgently lifting his lapel to show his red ribbon.

“What’s happened? Are we in danger?” Tommy asks immediatley, standing up from his chair.

“No, sir,” the foot soldier said. They were never allowed to say the names of clients, only sir and ma’am. “I have a message from her. It was urgent and couldn’t have waited until Thursday.”

The man gives him a sealed envelope before bowing and leaving as quickly as he came. Tommy checks to make sure that he is alone before ripping it open. It wasn’t a message, but a phone number and the word clairvoyant scribbled quickly with fancy ink.

Tommy furrows his eyebrows but picks up his phone and dials the operator. The other end picks up immediately. He hastily says the number he wants to be patched through to as well as the word scribbled below it. The operator says nothing else and he hears the phone ring again before a female voice finally picks up.

“Mr. Shelby, I was waiting for your call.”

It was you. Tommy’s heartbeat quickens. You continue to speak, oblivious to his shock, “I don’t make calls myself unless absolutely neccassary. You don’t need to worry about privacy; I have connections with the operating center that patched you through. They won’t say a word to anyone, telling them that you called and they won’t be listening.”

Truthfully, Tommy hadn’t even been thinking of that. He was still slightly shocked that he was hearing your voice, the same voice as nealry three years ago. The opium fucked with a lot of things, but not his sense perception. Your voice was as beautiful as he remembered it to be.

He forces the thoughts out of his head and finally speaks. “What’s happened? Is there an emergency?”

“You aren’t safe at the races tomorrow. There will be an attempt on your life.”

Tommy is not entirely surprised. “I’m sure you can put two and two together; what I plan to do at the races is practically a suicide mission, dear. Of course there’ll be an attempt on my life.”

You scoff at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll rephrase: you may succeed in your plan tomorrow, but something will catch you off-guard. Something big.”

“What is it, then? If you’re so sure,” Tommy challenges, but is taken aback by the silence.

You sigh, defeated at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll be honest. An Inspector Campbell approached me this morning, asking for my services to give him everything I knew about you plans tomorrow. I took his money.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “You called me to tell me you’re a fuckin’ conspirator against me now, eh?”

“I resent that. There’s a reason I ask you not to tell me anything about your business aside from what I need to know to do my job,” you snap back. “Campbell gave me money to tell him information I didn’t have. So, I took the money and told him lies. He didn’t pay enough money to turn me against one of clients anyway and I don’t negotiate.”

Tommy laughs in slight disbelief, “You clever bloody woman.”

You can’t help but grin at the other end of the line. “He let it slip that he had something planned, though. That you weren’t getting out of this alive. Thomas, I don’t know what and I don’t have enough time to find out, but you needed to know,” you say before soflty adding, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you.”

Tommy nods solemnly before saying, “That’s the first time you’ve called me Thomas.”

You laugh and Tommy’s heart clenches at the sound. “Is that what you choose to focus on?” you ask, amused despite your worry.

“I’m not afraid of death. Not anymore,” Tommy answers.

“It’s a shame. There seems to be a lot in your life that’s worth living for,” you reply, your voice softer that Tommy’s ever heard it.

“Will you do me one final favour? Take it as my dying wish.”

“Thomas—” you start before he cuts you off.

“Can you tell me your name?” he finally asks, but he’s met with silence. He clears his throat and adds, “Please?”

You sigh at the other end. This is not how you were supposed to conduct business. Anonymity was the only thing keeping you from being excecuted at the hands of the Crown or a crime-boss. But here the feared Thomas Shelby was, asking as his dying wish to know your name. You don’t know him aside from your brief interactions and stories from Ada. But strangely, you trust him with the key keeping your identity safe.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

---

The following evening, Tommy trudges home covered in mud and blood. His encounter with the face of death was anticipated, but still left him scarred. Despite his success against the races and against Sabini, he felt trapped. With a success in the business, he still finds himself indebted to Winston Churchill. He’s exhaused of this cycle and in the moment, he embraced his fate just a little.

As he pushed the door to his home open, his eyes are immediately drawn to crackling fire. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home, as the family was staying in London with Ada to celebrate their successes.

So the sight of you, sitting on his couch and staring into the fire shocked the life back through him.

He takes of his hat and stares at you in slight disbelief. “So, you’re real.”

You turn to face him and the tension previously present in your features fell and the corner of your lip quirked upwards. “You’re alive,” you state the obvious.

“The Devil’s tried too many time to kill me, I’m starting to wonder if God does exist,” he says plainly, taking off his coat and taking a seat on the other end of the couch from you.

A small laugh escapes you. “He has jokes, does he?”

Tommy smiles softly but shakes his head and stares at you. “You’re really real. I was starting to think I was imagin’ ya.”

“Ada says you’ve been asking about me.”

“I have. She wouldn’t tell me your name, though.”

“You got it anyway.”

“Who’s to deny a man his dying wish?” Tommy darkly jokes again.

“I can’t go back to operating how things were. Even you knowing my name is too much,” you say softly, turning back to the fire. You were slightly frustrated with yourself. Years and years of building a network built around your anonymity destroyed by one man. Deep down, you felt that it was time.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tommy says simply.

“But you’d want to be in my life,” you say back, still not looking away from the fire. “I’m a woman, but I’m not stupid. I know why you tried to look for me.”

Tommy sits back and watches her. A woman’s never been more direct with him before. Even Grace, who had just asked him to lay with her one final time before moving back to America at the races, had never laid out what she saw so simply and bluntly before. She was right. Tommy wouldn’t tell anyone your name if you asked him to, but he would still want to see you. The only thing more painful than not knowing who you were was knowing and still not being able to see you.

“You could start again,” Tommy says. He barely recongizes the softness in his own tone, but he decides the change is good. “You could work for me, have your men join the Blinders if they wanted.”

“I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby,” you say again cheekily, reminding him of the first time the two of you spoke. You turn to face him and stop to admire his beauty—how the fire cast beautiful shadows across his face, how the moonlight sparkled in his eyes.

“That you don’t,” Tommy hums in agreement, still looking at you. His gaze hadn’t left you since he came home.

It’s silent for a few moments before Tommy says, “Stay.”

“With you?” you ask in slight surprise.

“With me, in Small Heath, with the company—whatever you want. Just stay.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then let me get to know you, Y/N,” Tommy answers, finally saying your name for the first time. He loves the way it spills off his tongue and you equally adore the sound of his voice when he says it.

You nod softly, agreeing with his hearfealt proposition. The two of you spent the rest of the night staring into the fire, allowing your heartbeats and breaths come into sync as you slowly fell asleep.

---

It’s been five years since you had started working for Shelby Company Limited as Tommy’s senior advisor and security specialist, four years since your network of spies had merged with the Peaky Blinders, three years since you and Tommy got married, two years since you gave birth to a set of twins named Benjamin and Mae Shelby, and one year since you had also become a political advisor to your husband and his allies in Parliament.

With your years together, the Shelby family found you to be an intriguing, fascinating, and intimidatingly wonderful woman. They couldn’t comprehend how right you seemed with Tommy. They also couldn’t comprehend how involved you were in their success without them even knowing who you were. However, they love to poke fun at Tommy for basically falling in love with from two interactions.

You were currently at the Arrow House doing the final touch-ups to your makeup for the gala you were hosting in your home. It was a typical charity ball that made sleezy politicians look good in the eyes of their constituants, but you had pressured Tommy to allow you to host it on behalf of the Shelby Family Institute. He had been skeptical, but relented when you reminded him that it wasn’t about giving them a platform to look good, but using their ego to benefit the institute.

“I’ve put the children to bed,” Polly announces as she walks into the master bedroom. The room is obscenely large with a king sized bed in the middle, but Polly can’t help but feel pride every time she visits. It was the both of your hardwork that you got you here and she was proud. “Ben passed out almost immediatley, but you’re right about Mae. She’s a trouble maker.”

You give Polly a smile through the mirror of the vanity you sat in front of, “Thank you, Pol. Really.”

“Where’s that bastard husband of yours?” Polly jokes as she stands behind you, inspecting her pearls in the mirror.

“His study, no doubt,” you joke with a slight smirk.

“The faith the two of you have in my is astounding,” Tommy says sarcastically, immerging through the en-suite dressed in his tuxedo.

Polly rolls her eyes and leaves the room, leaving the couple to stare at each other.

“You clean up well, Mr. Shelby,” you state, smiling as he approaches you. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because of you or your OBE.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I should have continued loving you at a distance,” he comments humourously.

You laugh—a real laugh—and wrap your hands around his neck while his arms immediately find themselves around your waist.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tommy asks, referring to the mental and emotional preparation for the event that was about to start downstairs.

“I’m not the biggest fan of a lot of your colleagues, Tom,” you say honestly. “Their wives however...they give me thousands of pounds worth of information every sentence.”

“You never cease to amaze me with that mind of yours,” he tells you honestly.

“And you never cease to amaze me with how verbally affectionate you can be,” you quip back lightheartedly before Tommy softly kisses your lips.

“How ‘bout this?” he says once you pull away. “I take care of getting donations, you take care of getting more leverage on the labour bill I’m looking to pass.”

“Done,” you say with a smile before Tommy kisses you again. You begin to hear cars pull into the driveway when you try to pull away, but he keeps you close.

“Tom,” you giggle, breathless. “Tom, the guests are arriving.”

“I’ve waited for you for years, they can wait for you a little while longer,” he replies with a smirk before kissing you deeply once again.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby fic #peaky blinders fic

416 notes · View notes

mcyt-amber-tftsmp · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭... 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟... {𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

Request?: HeartsYeallow

Character: Ranbob

Side Character(s): Basically the rest of The Lost City of Mizu cast

Story-type: Starts out platonic but it's mainly Angst and a bit of fluff Romance but not too much

Story Length: 3455 words

AU or Not: AU of sorts but Ranbob being in his enderwalk when he went full-murder on the fishermen

Time Period: Future basically

Plot Summary: It the incident where Ranbob killed the fisher men but Y/n tagged along while the four were mostly exploring Y/n actually got to know Ranbob a bit then when Y/n saw he killed Cletus I believe she came to be uh scared but still knows hes not doing it and such, anyway time skip when its just Isaac, Charles and Y/n are the only one left alive and Ranbob trapped them but Y/n rushed her self to Ranbob and snapped him out of his murderous mind— and saving the others and she told the two to go ahead and leave Mizu and she'll catch up with and she talked to him and comforted him in a way

Small Info: Ranbob has the enderstate where he does things he doesn't know he does like the murders- and he didn't open up with anybody til Y/n come and her friends came to mizu also Y/N is like Isaac's little sister who's younger by two years with Isaac being 22 years old and everything else

Keywords:

Y/N = Your Name

Trigger Warning:

- Burning To Death Twice - Slight Blood - Small Panic Attack - Repeated Words - Mentions Of Death

Normal Warning: Cringey as heck-

--------------------------------------------------

Y/N's Point of View~

The only thing I could see outside while walking around the place was just water and the aquatic life going on with it's lives in water. Now people might be wondering, where the heck am I exactly? Well you see we are currently exploring an underwater city called the City of Mizu which happens to be the Underwater City of Beauty and they got the beauty part pretty much right!

Basically what happened is that my older brother, Isaac took me with his three friends to wherever they usually go until I found this book lying on the ground which talked about Mizu. So we basically decided to go over to explore the area and while doing so we met an enderman hybrid named Ranbob.

From what I know about him is that he's pretty socially awkward considering when he met us he was a bit nervous when he introduced himself and Cletus was practically making him uncomfortable by sniffing him or doing something which was annoying him. I would sometimes yell at Cletus to stop it saying that he's making him uncomfortable.

I mostly tagged along with Ranbob while Isaac, Cletus, Charles and Benji were exploring and walking around the place. I was able to get to know him a bit more which actually helped him talk to me freely without getting nervous or something.

He was actually a really nice guy even if he looked pretty intimidating and all. What I liked most was his heterochromatic eyes which on his right side was yellow and on the other it was purple. He was also pretty tall and handsome- okay moving on!

Yeah I may or may not have somehow fallen in love with him too. I don't know what it is but I guess I could say it was just us basically having a conversation together and getting to know each other so well and maybe it's his voice cause it's pretty calming and I like it. His voice is something I could fall asleep to if I wanted.

Right now we were just walking around in the library. My brother and his friends ran off somewhere looking through somethings while i was looking through names of books trying to see which one I could read and that was when a certain book caught my eye.

The cover of the book was black and it look slightly dusty like it hasn't ever been touched by anyone. I slowly took the book out of the shelf carefully so as to not accidentally make the other books drop from the shelf. I then dusted away the small dust particles as I looked at the book.

"The Enderstate?" I said in a small questioning and confused tone.

"I see you found this book." I heard a voice behind me which made me slightly jump as I looked to see it was Ranbob as I left out a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh it's just you and I did I guess? Do you know what's it about?" I asked as he stayed silent for a bit before he spoke.

"Well... How do I put this into words?" He said while looking pretty hesitant.

"The Enderstate or Enderwalk is similar to sleepwalking or dissociation, where endermen hybrids like me have little awareness of surroundings, and it may last for hours at a time. You could say that... we do things we don't intend on doing at times and we don't have control of ourselves in the process. You would have to knock or slap them back to reality... if it's possible." He said explaining as I listened though I did notice the slight nervousness in his voice which I shook off thinking it was nothing.

It was something pretty interesting to know considering I have never known about this. I eventually put the book back in its place as Ranbob continued with the tour. Later Isaac found small lever key which lead to a tree dome.

Isaac handed the key to Ranbob who led us down the hallway to a closed room. I saw Ranbob place the lever key in its place as he pulled it down as the door slowly opened to reveal a glass dome which consisted of a huge tree in the middle.

I stood awed as I looked at the tree. It was really beautiful. Isaac and his friends were just looking around the place as I stood in place but after a while I realized that Ranbob was nowhere near me. I didn't even know where and when he ran off.

I snapped back from my thoughts when I heard my brother yell as he pointed towards the tree saying that there is a chest on top of it. We were all trying to figure out on who would climb the tree to get the chest. We then decided that Cletus should go over to retrieve whatever was inside the chest.

As Cletus was about to go up, I heard Benji say something which made Cletus come back as they argued and Charles was trying to calm them down. I then heard Isaac say if I had seen Ranbob in which I shook my head since I had no clue where he was.

Then after a few minutes Cletus reached the semi-top of the tree saying he found the chest as he slowly opened it. Isaac asked what it said in their but then something caught my eye. I thought it was nothing but then I heard a voice which I recognized very well.

"People don't live after coming here. They die." I heard Ranbob said as he jumped down from God knows where as I noticed the fire on top of the tree.

"Is it on fire?!" I heard Isaac exclaim looking at the tree and looked at Cletus who was cornered at the edge of the tree.

Charles and Benji were telling Cletus to drop the book and to jump down but then I saw how Cletus was set on fire as Ranbob then pushed him back only for Cletus to fall to his death. I stood stunned and scared as I looked at Ranbob with fear but then I realized something.

What if he was in the enderstate? He wouldn't do this in general, right?! I had so many thoughts running through my mind but it was interrupted as Isaac grabbed my arm and ran out of the room. I was about to say something but he already pulled down the lever to trap Ranbob in the tree room.

Isaac read the book as he led us down to wherever we are supposed to go. After a few, we came to a room which had lava but there was something on top of the wall. Benji said that he would be the one to retrieve what was inside the chest as he jumped on the stone platforms as he slowly parkoured his way there.

I was too scared to look considering he was taking a huge risk parkouring over the platforms and if he accidentally missteps he will fall and burn in lava. I looked over at him to see he was doing fine and he was just two steps away from reaching the place.

But I may have spoken too soon cause I don't know what happened but Benji somehow tripped over the last step and fell towards the flowing hot lava. I saw Isaac running after him as he reached out a hand but it was too late. I choked back tears as I saw witnessed Benji burning to death. There was nothing we could do.

Then I saw Isaac give his books and other things he had to Charles saying that he was going to get to the top to retrieve the item in the chest. I widened my eyes. I couldn't lose him. He was the only family I had after our parents died.

"Isaac no! Please I can't lose you!" I said as Isaac gave me a hug.

"I will be okay just hold on for me okay. I promise." he said letting go as he took a deep breath and jumped onto the first platform.

I was shaking as he slowly parkoured over to the platforms. He looked pretty hesitant and scared knowing one wrong step and he will die. By the time I knew it he took the last step and reached the chest. I saw him take out something from the chest which looked like a lever key.

Isaac was saying that it was the final room key which could help us escape. Then he said that he was going to jump down from the slightly huge height as Charles said he would catch him. he took a deep breath as he jumped down and somewhat landed in Charles' arms as he fell backwards.

"Are you okay?" I asked as Isaac stood up only to slightly limp as I looked over at his foot to see that it was slightly bleeding.

"Not really but I will be fine. Are you alright Charles?" He asked looking over at the younger boy who nodded.

"Yeah just a little hurt in the head but overall okay." He said as he gave back Isaac's things as Isaac led us to the new room.

Isaac put the lever in it's place but stepped back a bit. I looked over to see he was looking really light headed as I helped him breathe as Charles helped. I could imagine that was very scary and the fact that we saw both our friends burn to death.

But I was still thinking if Ranbob was in his enderstate cause I don't think he would do something like this. Isaac told Charles to flip the switch but he then suddenly interrupted him form doing so as he said somethings.

"Okay I don't know what is in there but no matter what? We are gonna make it... For Cletus and Benji okay?" He said as Charles and I nodded.

Isaac then pulled down the lever as we entered the final room. The room was very unusual considering the amount of diamond armor was lined up on both sides of the walls along with diamond swords placed behind them.

The room was also decorated with green pillars and obsidian like walls. There were a few barrels and chests placed on the sides but they were all empty according to Isaac. Then he went over towards the white tiled steps which led to a glass window. I followed behind him to see what it was.

Behind the glass room was a marble statue of a man who wore armor and had a sword hung from the sides. The armor design was slightly hidden by the cape and he happened to wear a white mask. Charles then came up behind us to see what we were looking at.

"What the heck is that?!" He said as he looked at the statue.

"What is this...?" Isaac said looking at it.

"That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen..." Charles said.

"Looks like a cave." Isaac said as he looked over at a small opening from across the room which was definitely an exit.

I then heard small footsteps as I looked behind me to see Ranbob coming over with a netherite sword in his hands and he looked slightly dazed but I don't think anyone noticed that. I started to think this was something to do with the enderwalk state.

I looked over to see Isaac and Charles panicking like mad saying things about how he killed Cletus and all the other things that have happened recently. I seriously just stood and watched in shock.

"Everyone here had an idol that they worshipped. That's why the rooms were all themed like one of the idols from the past." He said stopping for a bit as Isaac spoke.

"Is yours Ranboo-" He was saying until he got interrupted.

"And mine was Dream!" He said I looked at him and then back at the window to look at the statue.

"Is that this man?" Isaac said coming towards the glass gesturing towards the statue as I noticed Ranbob coming towards us.

"Yes. Like I said nobody-" Ranbob responded in a monotone voice but was interrupted.

"Was Dream a good man?" Isaac asked slightly scared as he held onto my arm as Ranbob paused taking in his question.

"Yes yes he was a very good man..." He said as Isaac broke the glass as he stepped dragging me with him as he slowly let go but made sure I was near him.

"... Depending on what you think good is..." he said as Charles came in the room backing away from Ranbob who slowly came behind him.

"Nobody- nobody leaves here..." He said as I saw him coming slowly towards Charles.

"What do you mean nobody leaves here...?" he said as I saw Ranbob raising his sword and was about to strike Charles.

I couldn't let this happen so I broke into a sprint as I pushed Charles out of the way. I heard Isaac scream my name as I looked to see the sword about to hit me but I was quick enough to stop him as I grabbed him by the wrist with both my hands to stop him from hitting me but he was pushing back with a greater strength.

"Are you seriously asking for a death wish Y/N?! If so then that's what you will be getting." I heard Ranbob say as I felt my right arm burn in pain as I saw five claw marks as blood started to pool out from the freshly cut skin. I yelped in pain as tears welled up in my eyes but that didn't stop me.

"N-No... But I know the real Ranbob won't do this! Wake up! Just f***ing wake up Ranbob!" I yelled at him as tears streamed down my face as I made out the shocked expression on Ranbob's face.

I quickly kicked him on the knees with my foot as he lost his balance and that gave me the chance to punch him in the jaw as he fell to the ground slightly hitting his head first. I was at this point panting and breathing too hard. I thought I was going to die.

I looked over at Charles and Isaac who were shocked and confused. Then I looked at the sword as I kicked it out of sight. Then I heard a small groan as I looked over to see Ranbob slowly sitting up as he rubbed the side of his head with his right hand.

"W-what happened? Where-" He stopped himself as he had a look of realization as he noticed the netherite sword on the side and the fresh claw marks on front arm.

"D-did I-I... What did I do...?" He said looking pretty scared.

"What do you mean 'what did I do'?! You literally killed Cletus and nearly killed-" I heard Isaac yell as I stopped him.

"Isaac stop! He was enderwalking! He wasn't in control of himself and didn't know what he was doing!" I yelled back which made him stop as he in shock.

Then I heard heavy breathing beside me to see Ranbob looking down on his knees while his hands were over on the side of his head. He looked like he was having a panic attack and this made me worried.

"No no no no no no no. Not again not again not again. Please no I can't..." I heard him whisper repeatedly as he was in tears.

I looked over at Charles and Isaac who seemed to look at him in slight pity and worry. I knelt down to Ranbob's level as I put a gentle hand on his left hand hoping it would clam him down. I then looked at the two.

"Isaac? Take Charles with you and go ahead. I will catch up to you guys later." I said and I could tell Isaac was going to protest but Charles put a hand on Isaac's shoulder as he stopped and went over leaving both me and Ranbob alone in the room.

"Ranbob? Please look at me..." I said as he was still in tears as he slowly looked up but didn't make eye contact with me. He looked so broken that it made me want to cry.

"Ranbob calm down... it's alright." I said trying to reassure him but it seemed to make him upset.

"How is this okay Y/N?! I killed one of your brother's friend and the other died trying to help you guys get out and I nearly killed Isaac and Charles in here! I hurt you and nearly killed you!" He yelled out in frustration as he broke down in tears again.

I gave him a huge hug as he wasted no time to hug me back as he buried his head in my shoulder as i could feel it getting wet due to his tears. How long has this been happening? Was this the reason he was very nervous when he met us? He was scared that he would kill us.

"It's not your fault... You weren't in control of yourself..." I said as I could feel him lift his head as he looked at me.

"How can it not be my fault when I hurt and nearly killed the one girl I loved the most!?" He exclaimed as I looked at him shocked after hearing what he said.

He... loved me...? I didn't know what to say other than blush at his words. I looked at him to see his head down as he was scared to look at me thinking I was not going to return my feelings. I understood why he might be thinking this considering the things he has done. I hugged him back as he flinched at my sudden action.

"It's okay Ranbob... I love you too. It's okay." I said and I could tell he was in shock from my response not even expecting it.

He then slowly pushed me away form the hug as he made him face me and then he slowly leaned as he connected his lips with mine, kissing me. I slowly kissed back as I used my hands to slowly move away the tears from his face.

We gradually pulled away as he gently pressed his head against mine while I had my hand on the side of his head. I hated seeing anyone sad especially Ranbob. We sat in silence as we stayed in the same position.

"Please don't leave me..." I heard him choke out as I let out a small sigh.

"I promise i won't... I will always come back to you..." I said closing my eyes as we continued to stay the way we were.

"Things will get better for you Ranbob." I finished saying.

I prayed things would get better. I know they would!

I believe in him.

I love him so much for this.

--------------------------------------------------

#ranbob #ranbob x reader #ranbob x you #ranbob x y/n #tales from the smp #lost city of mizu #angst #fluff #oneshots

20 notes · View notes

imaginationofacrazyfangirl · 4 years

Text

{Metanoia}

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader, Older brother! Jimin x Reader, Hoseok x reader

*8k- ongoing

Genre: Enemies to lovers, childhood friends, major misunderstandings

Warnings: Thigh riding, Fingering, Oral (male receiving)

Summary: The first time you meet Jungkook, he pushes you off the slide. Second time he calls you ugly. After that things continue spiraling downwards: he cuts your dolls’ heads off, tells everyone you’re a freak at school, spreads malicious rumors; Jungkook’s sole purpose in life is tormenting you. So why five years later is he insisting you two belong together?

Based on a prompt request by @bangtaened-army turned fic. Sorry bangtaened-army for the wait, and the fact that I still haven’t touched the original requested prompt..

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I can't believe you would do this to me, Jiminie. After everything I have ever done for you. " you hiss into the phone. Your low voice does little not to garner the nosy looks of other people awaiting their luggage. Despite it being two am at an airport people never tired of drama, and you plotting the murder of your older brother could feed a whole TV show. See Jimin was supposed to pick you at the baggage claim. Keywords supposed to. However, instead of being greeted by your annoying yet lovable sibling you were greeted by someone just plain annoying.

"You're being dramatic, (Y/N). I sent Jungkook to pick you up, not Ted Bundy." Jimin replies dryly. Even through the phone you can tell he is rolling his eyes at you. He never understood your hatred towards Jungkook. To him, the dark haired boy is a sweet innocent boy who could do no wrong but you know better. The devil lives inside Jungkook.

"I would've preferred the serial killer. At least he'd be less of an ass-" Jungkook grabs the phone from your hand purposely shifting away so you can't take it back. Not that it makes much difference. Even if he was facing you, you would have to jump to reach him. "Hey man, it's me. Yeah, I know she's a pain but I'll bring her home. No don't worry about it I'm used to it by now. "

You roll your eyes at this. "Used to it by now," once again everyone sees you as the problem, not Jungkook. Forget the fact he tortured you all throughout childhood. Or that he's the reason everyone bullied you throughout high school. "Here, you going to behave now or throw another tantrum?" Jungkook asks, hanging back your phone.

Immediately you snatch it from his hands clutching it close to your chest. "Never take my phone out of my hand again. You hear me, Jeon?!"

"Then stop acting like a child and we won't have a problem." Jungkook snarks, arms folded over his chest as he looked down upon you as a parent would.

"Fuck you, Jeon! I'll find my own way home." You snap spinning around on your heels.

However before you can even take a step, caveman Jungkook throws you over his shoulders. He smacks your ass undoubtedly grinning as he does so. "Alright princess, enough playing. I promised your family to drive you home safely and I'm going to do just that. "

"You heathen! Let me down!" You pound against his back to no avail. He merely hits your butt again continuing to walk through the airport without a care. Seriously where did airport security go? Aren't they supposed to be on alert for kidnappers or something?

Apparently not because Jungkook strolls straight past a guard twiddling his thumbs. "Seriously?! Way to keep Korea safe man. I'm being kidnapped before your eyes here, dumbass."

The guard shoots Jungkook and you a questioning look, clearly unamused by you calling him ‘dumbass.’ Jungkook lets out a nervous laugh, bowing apologetically towards the guard. His grip on you not slipping for even a second. "Sorry she's drunk. Please ignore her."

The guard nods. "Best get her out of here or I'll have to detain her for drunken disorder."

"Will do. Thanks."

"I am not drunk-" you start only Jungkook to hit you yet again hard. You yelp face turning red as the guard laughs. "I swear to God I will murder you. "

"Do you want security to detain you? Because I'm pretty sure you'll be flagged as a flight hazard and stuck in Korea forever. "

Just the mere thought sends shivers down your spine. "No, thank you. "

"Didn't think so. " Jungkook replies. He carries you all the way to his car parked in the visitors' center. Not even letting you go as he climbed the three flights of stairs to get there. Undoubtedly he guessed-and correctly so- you'd run the second he let his guard down. Even when he sets you down to open his car door one hand remains firmly wrapped around your wrist.

You sigh loudly. "Isn't this a little overkill? We're at your car now."

"Sit." He merely says, pointing at the seat.

Tossing him a glare you do as told. Despite your previous bravado you know full well Jungkook is right, he is your only way home. Taxis are too expensive, and the rideshare apps went nowhere near your home. As much as you don’t want to admit it, Jungkook’s won this round. Still that doesn’t warrant the victorious grin on Jungkook’s face or the added salt of him reaching over to buckle your belt. "Overkill. Utter overkill. "

"Got to keep the princess safe don't I?" he says sweetly.

You cringe. "Enough with the princess stuff. You know I hate that. "

“You didn’t hate it when you were riding my dick last time you came home.” Jungkook mentions, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you. Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your last visit: Jungkook’s large hands gripping your waist as you fucked him in the backseat of his car. His hot breath against your ear whispering dirty things that would make a porn star blush. That feeling of your toes curling as he hits the right spot-

You shake the memory away. Fucking Jungkook was a mistake. It should’ve never happened. “That was a one time thing, Jeon. I was vulnerable last time. I just got out of a three year relationship-”

“And you just happened to fall on my dick several times.” Jungkook snorts. His tone stays calm but you can see how his knuckles whitened gripping the steering wheel. “Look you can make all the excuses you want, but it doesn’t change what happened between us. We had sex. Good sex if I might add.”

“Great sex.” You admit. “But that’s all.”

As great as Jungkook and you were together, you couldn’t let yourself fall into his trap again. The dark haired boy bullied you for years. He made you cry countless times. Great sex didn’t change anything. Not when you know Jungkook would hurt you in the end. Neither of you speak as Jungkook pulls out of the parking lot. Whatever conversation you have ends like it always does in harsh words. So for the next hour and a half you stare out the window contemplating your life until your eyes close shut.

It’s not until a door slams that you open them again. Half awake you can barely make out the familiar street lights of your neighborhood hanging above, or the equally memorable

houses of it surrounding you. Your car door opens to reveal a haggard Jungkook. He leans over unbuckling you without a word. His soft lush hair tickles your skin as he struggles to get you free. You reach out to comb your fingers through it.

“Are we here?” you mumble, entranced by the silky feel of his hair. “Do we need to get out?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, we’re here. Go back to sleep princess. I got it.”

You yawn barely comprehending as an arm slides underneath your knees. “Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

Closing your eyes again you miss Jungkook’s soft whisper of, ‘I’m sure.’

-----

Sunlight hits your face chasing away your dreamless sleep. Your eyes open slowly, greeted by the harshness of lavender colored walls filled with high school photos and cringey boy band posters from way back in the day. Nothing about your bedroom has changed moving out all those years ago. Everything stayed exactly the same from when you were a teenager. Dreadfully so unfortunately.

Groaning you stretch trying to remember how you got into bed. Last thing you remember is asking Jungkook if you were home as he unclipped your seatbelt, so you had to have gotten up. You must’ve been so tired nothing really processed. A thirteen hour flight would do that to you after all. “Look what the cat dragged in. I see you survived the car ride with Jungkook alright.” Jimin grins, standing in the doorway of your room.

You toss a pillow at him only to miss. “Barely. Seriously what were you thinking having him pick me up? You know how I feel about him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I was thinking I have work the next day, and that Jungkook is the only guy I trust to pick up my little sister. Because not only would he keep her safe, but he’s the type of guy to carry her inside when she’s passed out.”

Your mouth dried. “What?”

“I said Jungkook carried your ungrateful ass inside.”

Suddenly the memory of Jungkook carrying you in comes to mind. His strong arms wrapped around you as your fingers buried themselves into his shirt. You were only half awake, but you remember everything from the way his cologne smelt to the soft beat of his heart lulling you back to sleep. ‘Sweet dreams princess.’

“No way. He hates me-besides I’m wearing pajamas!” You protest.

Jimin sighs. “Yeah. That I may have punched him for doing, but (Y/N), Kook doesn’t hate you. Trust me, that boy couldn’t hate you if he tried.”

“I don’t believe you.” How could you? The first day you ever met Jungkook he kicked you off the slide causing you to scrape your knees. Second time you two met he called you ugly before running off to play with Jimin. After that things got worse, from destroying your barbies, putting kick me signs on you, spreading rumors about you in high school, to telling your crush you were a slut. If those weren’t the actions of a boy who hates you, then you don’t know what is.

Jimin murmurs something about ‘misunderstandings’ under his breath, but doesn’t clarify. Instead he simply says. “Look, think what you want, but Jungkook spent the night yesterday since he was too tired to drive home. So be nice okay?”

“Whatever.” you reply, not mentioning the fact he lives down the road. Just this once you’d behave. After all, he did carry you home.

Jimin smiles, tossing the pillow back. Naturally it hits you right square in the face. "Good girl. Now get dressed. The last thing I need to see is my best friend eyeing up my little sister. "

You let out a silent curse, but do as told. Honestly it really didn't matter. When you lived at home you walked around in yoga pants while braless all the time, Jungkook be damned. This was your house and you refused to give up comfort because your brother's friend came over. It drove Jimin insane. To the point he'd throw random items until you either changed or returned to your room. However that was ages ago before Jungkook ever saw you naked or bent you over the counter of his kitchen.

“Stop it.” You slap yourself. “Thinking about it will do you no good.”

Unfortunately the pep talk does little to stop the wanting ache between your legs. Jungkook is the last person you slept with since breaking up with your ex. After you returned to America the last time you simply threw yourself into work, barely sparing a glance at the opposite gender. “Fuck. You need to get laid, (Y/N). Preferably not by Jeon this time.” you whispers.

-----

Breakfast is an interesting affair. Like always your parents and brother treat Jungkook as if he's part of the family, your mother piles food onto his plate while your father and Jimin discuss the latest sports and news trends with him. Occasionally one of your parents will praise Jungkook on something he did, mentioning how proud they are of him to which Jungkook eats up like a starving man at a feast.

Meanwhile you play around with your rice ignoring the sour feeling of getting ignored by your own family. After all, it's not like you lived out of the country and only came home once in a blue moon. So what did it matter if your childhood enemy ate up all your attention? "Thank you again, Jungkook, for bringing (Y/N) home. I know how much of a pain she can be to you. " your mother says.

Jungkook grins, the sun practically illuminating him from behind as he tactfully shrugs off the gratitude with a, 'It's no problem, Mom.' His butter wouldn't melt in my mouth routine sickens you to the point you want to vomit.

"I would've been perfectly fine finding my own ride home. " You mumble indignantly.

The comment earns you a sharp whack on the head by your mother's slipper. "The words are, 'thank you, Jungkook. ' I swear I don't know how I raised such an ungrateful daughter. "

You roll your eyes, swallowing the comment about her shitty parenting skills. "I mean how are you ever going to find a husband with that bad attitude of yours?" She laments, projecting into her usual rant of marriage and grandchildren.

Like always you ignore it taking the few blows to the head she gave whenever ranting about your marital future. Besides you, Jimin snickers enjoying your torment, having been born a boy he's safe from your mother's wrath since 'no girl is good enough for my precious Jimmie.' Thankfully your father has an ounce of sympathy left for you. "She's doing fine, hunny. (Y/N) has a good home and a steady job-"

"You're too soft on her! That's why she's like this. " your mother dismisses. "I mean what man would fall for a woman with such an ugly personality?"

Your heart gives a painful squeeze at her words, while such speech is common with your mother that doesn't make it hurt any less. "Actually I know someone who'd be interested in going out with (Y/N)." Jungkook pipes up, a big grin stretching across his face.

You shoot him a warning glare to which he shrugs off. A surprise gasp- that is way too exaggerated in your opinion- escapes your mom, she looks at Jungkook as if he hung the moon. "Oh Jungkook, that would be wonderful. But we ask you to risk your friendship like that."

"I promise you're not. This guy has loved- liked (Y/N) for a long time. He knows what she's like. " Jungkook waves off.

"Really? Who?" your dad asks, causing you to frown. Why does everyone think you are so unlovable? Seriously you are starting to get insulted, although you also question Jungkook and his 'friend. '

Jimin snorts, giving Jungkook a weird look. "Yes Jungkook, who is this mysterious guy madly in love with my sister?"

The tips of Jungkook's ears turn red and he ducks his head sheepishly, probably not expecting Jimin to call him out on his bluff. "What does it matter? A man is interested in our (Y/N)! All my prayers are answered!" Your mom cries, saving Jungkook from whatever bullshit he is about to spout. "Oh Jungkook, you're so wonderful. Any mother would be lucky to have you."

"Hey!" Jimin protests, earning a string of reassurances and praises from your mother. For a man who prided himself on his cool nature, Jimin was a mama's boy.

"I'm going to get started on the dishes. " you sigh, collecting the empty plates. As much as you love your family there's only so much one can take of them, hence moving to America.

"I'll help." Jungkook says, quickly gathering the dishes from your hand. Without another word he disappears into the kitchen like a little boy eager to impress his mom or in this case your mom; it adds to your rising irritation. You don't know what his game is, but if Jungkook thinks he can pull a fast one on you, he'll be sorely surprised.

You enter the kitchen to find Jungkook already washing the dishes, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up displaying his smooth muscular arms. Your eyes roam over them taking in the tattoos littered on his tan skin; he had gotten more since you last saw him, practically a full sleeve now. They look good on him not that you would ever admit it. "Hey, I wash, you dry?" Jungkook offers, throwing a towel your way.

You frown. "I got it. Go back to the table."

Jungkook scoffs. "Seriously? You would rather do dishes- which you hate doing- then spend five minutes with me?"

"Oh don't try to guilt trip me, Jeon. That whole 'I know someone who likes (Y/N),' what utter bullshit. " you snap. "Tell me, were you going to laugh when I arrived at some restaurant only and no one comes?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You really need to see someone about this paranoia issue of yours, because this is beginning to get ridiculous.”

“Excuse me? Paranoid? You bullied me all my life-"

"I pushed down the slide when we were four. Get over it."

"You cut off my barbies' head! Repeatedly called me ugly. Spread rumors about me in high school, and to top the cherry off you told Hoseok, I was a slut. So no I won't get over it." You stomp your foot.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, the cup in his hand practically cracking under his grip. He says nothing, dropping the cup and sponge into the sink, before storming out like a madman.From the living room your parents call out Jungkook's name only for him to ignore them. The front door slams shut shaking the house so hard that the dishes tremble in their drying rack.

"What happened to being nice to Jungkook?" Jimin's voice surprises you from behind. Disappointment is written all over his face, and the way his body positions itself (arms crossed, legs parted) tells you, you're in for a lecture.

You turn away not in the mood to be parented by someone two years your senior. Especially not when he allots Jungkook to bully you without a single reprimand. "He started it. Telling mom he'd set me up with some imaginary guy only to laugh when I get 'stood up."

Jimin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are killing me. Look I can't spell it out for you, that is Jungkook's business, so I am just going to say this...I destroyed your barbies not Jungkook. "

You froze. "What?"

"I cut off Minnie's, Hana's and Lany's heads. You pissed me off by eating my snack. I wanted revenge." Jimin shrugged.

"B-but I caught Jungkook red handed! I saw him with Minnie's head!"

A sheepish look grew on his face. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, a habit he did whenever nervous. "Yeah, he was trying to fix her. "

The dish in your hands drops shattering against the kitchen floor. Your mouth opens but no words come out; funny seeing how thousands of thoughts run through your head. "You asshole!"

Jimin winces. "Sorry. It was a dick move- but my point is you thought Jungkook did it and he didn't. So isn't it possible you are wrong about everything else?”

------

You spend the next few days wandering around town bored. While you feel grateful to be home and see everyone you love, the list of things to do in your town is actually quite small compared to home ( perks of living in a small town). Outside of grocery shopping with your mom, reading on the veranda with your father, and bugging Jimin whenever possible, there’s not much to do. Things are especially boring since Jungkook disappeared after that morning. The bunny looking boy normally makes it his personal mission to bother you as much as possible. Disregarding the few hours he has to work, Jungkook always was there first thing in the morning to laugh at your ridiculous bed head. Yet for the last few days he’s been nowhere in sight. When asked about it Jimin merely shrugged saying he was busy, before smirking and stating unnecessarily, “If you miss him that much, why don’t you call him yourself?”

It isn’t that you miss Jungkook, despite what Jimin said about your Barbie dolls, you still believe deep down he hates you. After all just because you were wrong about one thing didn’t mean you were wrong about everything else. No, you asked Jimin, because it’s unusual given that the boy practically lived at your home. It’s not like you actually miss his stupid face over something. Perhaps if you had more friends this boredom wouldn’t be an issue. Sadly you weren’t much of a social butterfly back in high school; unlike Jimin who was part of the “popular” crowd, you were an outcast. As much as you tried, the only people who would hangout with you were Jimin’s friends.

At first you thought it was something you did, but later you found out Jungkook told everyone you were a ‘freak of nature,’ and it was only because he and the others felt bad that they hung around you. Hearing what he said devastated you. It was the first time you realized how much Jungkook hated you. Moreover his words stopped you from ever really trusting anyone who wanted to be friends.

“Isn’t it possible you are wrong about everything else?”

Pushing the thought back you try to ignore the nagging feeling growing inside birthed by your brother’s words. You fucking doubt it. How could something like that be so easily explained away? “I think this is your fifth lap around town.” a familiar voice calls out, snapping you back to reality. “People are beginning to think you’re a weirdo.”

You don’t even have to look up to tell who it is. On this planet only one person owns a voice so annoying it instantaneously grates on your nerves. “Get lost, Jeon. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

He snorts, continuing to follow you in his car. “You know it’s supposed to storm today right? You should head home before it pours.”

“Like I said: No One Asked You, Jeon.” you reply, promptly turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. He’s the last person you want to see given your current thoughts. Whatever longing you might’ve previously had for him disappeared the moment you remembered why Jungkook was your enemy. Thankfully he doesn’t follow most likely finding something more interesting to waste his time on.

You continue walking onwards too infuriated by the past to notice the dark clouds starting to form above. It’s not until something wet hits your skin that you take notice of the sudden drop in temperature and gathering winds. “Fuck.” you hiss feeling another raindrop.

Of course Jungkook would be right. The universe just fucking loved him like everyone else did. You get stuck with the short end though: running in the rain searching for shelter, only for you to naturally find yourself in the part of town empty of all businesses. “Perhaps I can stand under a tree until it calms down.”

Lightning flashes across the sky followed by a loud BOOM of thunder making you jump. A small sob escapes your lips as you subconsciously curl yourself into a ball. Thunder always scares you no matter how old you get. “I’m not here. I’m not here.” you whisper, rocking on balls of your feet.

However the deafening sounds of thunder destroys any hopes of pretending to be elsewhere. So you curl tighter into a ball praying for it all to stop. Overwhelmed with fear you don’t process the feel of someone’s jacket draping over you or the angry voice of Jungkook saying, “I told you to go home.”

It’s not until he yet again scoops you into his arms that you snap from your trance. You watch shocked as he carries you to the car. Through the rain and lightning he looks nothing like the boy you remember. Instead...he looks like a man you could very well fall in love with.

“Jung...Jungkook” You mumble, gripping his shirt as he sets you down into the passenger seat. He looks up at you in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Neither of you can remember the last time you called him by his first name. It’s always been Jeon never Jungkook. “Thank you....”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jungkook replies, shutting the car door. He walks over to the driver’s side sliding easily into it.

Now clear from the rain you can make out how drench he really is: hair soaked, clothes sticking to his skin, it makes you all too aware of the jacket covering you. Reluctantly you shrug it from your shoulders missing the comforting weight of it almost immediately. “Here. This is yours. You should wear it.”

Jungkook glares. “Keep it.

“No. It’s yours. You must be freezing without it-”

“I said keep it! God damn it, (Y/N). Why can’t you listen for once?” he snaps, hitting the steering wheel. You recoil taken back by his outburst. Never have you seen Jungkook so angry. At most Jungkook stormed off or glared whenever mad at you, never did he raise his voice at you. "I told you to go home. I told you it was going to storm but you didn’t listen."

"I'm sorry…"

"You don't get it. You could've gotten sick if I didn't find you in time. Or worse you could have gotten hurt…"

"Oh." You reply, unsure what to say. Worrying about you wasn't something you expected from Jungkook, but it strikes a painful chord within you. Your heart should be warmed by the thought instead a painful sinking feeling fills it. Suddenly you want nothing more than to burst into tears. “You were worried?”

Jungkook lets out a long tired sigh. "Of course I was worried. You’ve been terrified of thunder storms since we were five, why wouldn’t I worry about you being out in one?”

‘Trust me, that boy couldn’t hate you if he tried.’ Jimin’s words ring in your ears. ‘My point is you thought Jungkook did it and he didn't. So isn't it possible you are wrong about everything else?’

Could Jimin be right? Is everything you thought one big misunderstanding? You were so sure of Jungkook’s guilt previously, but now...you couldn’t picture him as the sinister bully you’ve known all your life. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened and turned around.” you admit, “I’m so used to chalkin everything you say off as meaningless teasing, I didn’t consider you actually meant well.”

“You never do.” Jungkook huffs. For a second you swear you can see pain fill his dark bambi eyes as he looks at you. It is an expression you’ve never seen on his face before, a look of hurt and dejection. Again your heart twists painfully in your chest. “You always assume I’m out to get you, when really I’m just trying to be nice. I mean sure I tease and joke around with you, but (Y/N), I would never purposefully hurt you. I know you don’t believe me-”

“Okay. I believe you.”

Jungkook’s foot slips hitting the break. The car lurches forward causing you both to nearly hit your heads on the dashboard. His head snaps in your direction so fast it practically gives you whiplash. “What? What did you say?”

Around you, cars honk aggravated by the standstill in the middle of traffic; you don’t care though. All you care about right now is the look of disbelief, shock, and hope marring Jungkook’s beautiful face. In that moment you realize how little you care about the truth. It’s unexplainable the sudden urge to move on from your prior hate, but you want to...you want to believe Jungkook is a good guy. “I believe you, Jungkook.” you swallow hard. “And I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you. So please forgive me.”

You don’t know what you expected Jungkook’s reaction to be, however it certainly wasn’t this. “I’ll think about it.”

If not for the sudden smirk pulling at his lips, you would’ve felt horrible. Instead you feel infuriated. “You asshole. I take it back. I’m not sorry. You hear me?! Not sorry!”

Jungkook merely laughs, shaking his head. “No backsies remember, (Y/N)? You can’t take it back.”

You glower remembering the childish rule Jimin, Jungkook and you made up in elementary school. It was to keep each other from ducking out of any dares or promises made, and apparently apologies now. “I hate you.”

Jungkook laughs harder. “I’m sure you do. Let’s go home, huh? I’ll make you hot chocolate if you behave.”

“I always behave.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. A second passes. “There better be whipped cream and marshmallows with that.”

“Anything you want princess. Anything you want.”

----------------------------------------------

You wonder if it’s creepy to find Jungkook so attractive while wearing your brother’s clothings. On Jimin, this grey sweatpants and hoodie combo makes him look like a homeless man, but on Jungkook, it has your mouth practically watering. The normally baggy material conforms perfectly to his body hiding nothing to the imagination. You see every curve, groove, muscle and bone (especially a certain large one in the middle of his sweats) in this boy’s body, and then to make things even worse you catch a sliver of tan skin anytime Jungkook raises his arms. Beautiful tan skin whose tantalizing taste and feel plagues your mind.

Suddenly you regret not putting up a fight about Jungkook coming over. Sure he was soaking wet from giving you his jacket, however Jungkook also lived down the street from you-he didn’t have to change into Jimin’s clothes. “Do you know if the dryer’s free?” Jungkook asks, lifting up said bundle of drenched clothes.

“Ummm, yeah I believe so. You want me to put them up for you?” you offer, trying not to stare. Although things are technically supposed to be cool between you guys now, they’re not. Years of mistrust and hatred don’t simply vanish after an apology or sudden decision to forgive, instead the emotions built between you two need to be sorted through and really only time could do that. Which is why you try super hard not to let lust takeover and destroy the fragile truce recently made.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Thanks, but I can manage."

You nod not knowing what else to say. Again his lips twist in that disgusting smirk you so despise, this time paired with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon enough for your ogling pleasure.”

Quickly you look away, “Who’s ogling who, Jeon? Cause it’s certainly not me.”

“Oh really?” Jungkook says, cocking an eyebrow. He steps forward caging you against the wall. Something dangerous gleams within those large eyes of his as Jungkook stares down at you with a ravenous look. Shivers run down your spine sending a delicious shock through your body. “That’s too bad, because I was definitely ogling you, princess. Seeing you wear this oversized shirt gives me sooo many ideas.”

You swallow hard, licking your suddenly dry lips. “Stop joking around. You and I know there’s nothing sexy about this shirt.”

“I disagree. Believe it or not, I find girls sexiest when they’re comfortable with themselves. All that lace and lingerie is nice, but nothing is hotter than a girl wearing my shirt and nothing else.” Jungkook admits. “It brings out the territorial side in me.”

Your brows crease. “That makes sense I guess, but this isn’t your shirt. It’s Jimin’s-”

“Mine. I left it here one night after sleeping over Junior year. “ he explains. “You stole it from Jimin’s drawer thinking it was his.”

“Oh….sorry. I’ll give it back.” Despair fills you at the thought. This is your favorite shirt regardless of it being a plain white t-shirt, it always makes you feel safe and comfy when wearing it as odd as it sounds. However you can’t afford to disrupt the newfound civialty between Jungkook and you.

Jungkook snorts. “Keep it. Not like it will fit me anymore. Besides like I said, nothing turns me on more than a woman in my shirt. Why do you think I never asked for it back, princess?”

He reaches out to toy with the hem of the shirt, his fingers drawing soft circles against your hip bone. "Although I think I'd prefer you without it on, or rather anything on at all."

"Jungkook…" you barely managed to get out as he lifts the material upwards. Cold air hits instantly pebbling your nipples despite the rush of warmth growing below. Instinctively you move to cover yourself only for Jungkook to grab your wrist.

"Please (Y/N). I've been dying to touch you since day one of your return." He begs, bringing your hand down.

"Okay." You whisper.

"Okay. " he smiles, pressing his lips to yours. Those large hands clutch your shoulders as he presses further against you. All those curves and muscles you admired previously push up against your bare skin. Through the sweatpants you can feel how hard he is.

A gasp escapes you as Jungkook's hands move towards your breasts caressing the underbelly of them. His fingers circle the outer edges of your nipples tracing them, before finally moving to touch them. He treats you like glass, a vast difference from your previous encounters and it's starting to annoy you . "I'm not made of glass you know?" You remind, stopping his hands. "You can be rough with me. "

"Trust me, I know. If memory serves correct you prefer it when I do something like this-" Jungkook snorts, grinding into you. The friction of his length against your clothed heat is exactly what you need. Moaning loudly you grip onto his arms trying to steady yourself.

"That's it. Such a slut for friction. You honestly thought I'd forget how you made yourself cum on my thigh that night?" Jungkook smirks, fingers grazing along the edges of exposed skin. Goosebumps rise along wherever he touches and you squirm like underneath him. His smirk widens as he plays along the hem of your booty shorts. "I had to wash my jeans afterwards, they were so drenched from you. "

"I didn't hear you complaining." You shoot back, pressing your hips against him in efforts to regain that delicious friction. "If I remember correctly you had fun flexing your leg underneath me."

"Never said I didn't. In fact I would very much like a repeat of that night." Jungkook grins, shifting so his thigh is between your legs. The muscle in his leg flexes teasing your core; in a commanding tone he whispers, "Go crazy, princess. Ride me. Right here, right now, I promise I'll take care of ya. "

That's all you need to hear to descend into madness. Almost instinctively you latch onto Jungkook digging your nails into his firm shoulders as you wantonly thrust against his leg. Moans escape your lips in wild abandon as his muscles rub against your clit at the perfect angle. Jungkook is right you are a whore for thigh riding.

Just when you think it can't get any better Jungkook's hand slips under your panties, fingers immediately finding that hard pearl between your legs. He brushes it softly causing you to hiss as your knees close in unwillingly to give up such feeling. Now this is more like it.

"You like that?" He teases, forefinger circling your clit slowly.

"Mmhmm…" you nodd, grinding harder in an attempt to pick up his pace.

"Words princess. Tell me exactly what you want. "

"More. " you cry out. "Kook. More please. I need you. "

Oddly the nickname spurs him on if the harsh whisper of, 'fuck' says anything. If not then certainly the desperate opened mouth pressed to your lips does. Silently you make a mental note to use the nickname again but it's momentarily lost as his fingers pick up speed. This time it's you uttering curses as Jungkook brings you right to the edge of cumming.

"Please, please, I'm so close." You want him so badly it's ridiculous. The smirk widens on his face, Junkook decides to reward you by slipping two of his fingers into your core. "Fuck Kook!"

"That's it, princess. Come for me. Show me how good you feel." Jungkook pumps his fingers into you. All words leave you as a haze of ecstacy falls over you, all you can is moan rocking deliberately against his hand. With every thrust his fingers somehow hit that special spot inside you.

Jungkook's an expert at knowing all your spots and kinks, almost as if he memorized everything about you, last time he and you were together. Either way impressed doesn't even begin to describe how you feel about his abilities. You moan his name, holding onto to him tightly as you orgasm onto his thigh. It lasts longer than expected small waves of pleasure still coming despite the relaxed posture of your body resting on his.

Gently Jungkook strokes your hair in a manner similar to what lovers do after such an event. Alarm bells ring out at the action, but you make no move to stop him. "Was that a good enough reenactment for you?" You mention, half teasing.

Jungkook grins. "Better than good. You got me so hard, princess, I don't know how I can last."

This time it's you who smirks. Sliding off of his thigh, you get on your knees anxious for the next act. "Well then, I better make what little time you do have as great as possible. "

Before Jungkook can say a word you reach under the waistband of his sweats gripping his length tenderly in your hand. The groan uttered from Jungkook's lips at the slightest touch of your hand ignites another fire within you. Smirk widening you pull out your prize, taking a second to admire the gorgeous cock. Despite having seen it before you can never quite get its length or the beautiful curve of it.

Running a finger along the thick veins you see a bit of pre-cum at its tip. "You weren't joking when you said that last act turned you on." You tease, swiping over his head with your thumb.

Staring into his eyes, you put your thumb into your mouth sucking off the cum. The salty taste makes your mouth water, with an exaggerated pop take your thumb out. "Fuck, (Y/N). Don't tease, I'll go insane if you do." Jungkook pleads.

"So needy." You say, taking him into your mouth. Thankfully your last boyfriend was somewhat of a blow job junkie, and while Jungkook is twice as large as he was, you have no problem taking his length into your mouth. The tip touches the back of your throat, instinctively you hollow your cheeks sucking in a slow teasing manner.

You swirl your tongue about his base enjoying the beautiful noises Jungkook made under your tongue. Soon a hand buries itself into your hair, gripping tightly in an attempt to control the pace. Normally you wouldn't allow such behavior preferring your lover to suffer under you, however there's something about Jungkook's desperation to get off using your mouth that sends heat pooling to your core. It doesn't take long until he's spilling into your mouth, hands pulling on your hair he thrusts his hips forward pushing himself further into your mouth.

“Shit, princess. That was great. Almost as good as cumming inside you." Jungkook sighs running a hand through his messy hair.

You smile wiping the corners of your mouth clean. "Unfortunately you're going to have to miss out. Jimin will be home soon."

Again his hands make their way to your hips, already you can tell he's angling for another kiss. "We'll have to be quick then. "

Jungkook leans forward, but this time you pull away. "The last thing Jimin needs is to walk in on us….besides we need to wash these sweats before he gets home. "

His lips curl into a smile practically relishing in your embarrassment, "Fair enough princess, but don't think we are done yet. I plan on making your toes curl as much as possible until the plane ride home. "

You cock an eyebrow. “Those are big words coming from a man who just begged me to cum. What makes you think I’m going to let you?”

“Easy, because you like it as much as I do.” Jungkook replies, grinding himself once more against you. A sharp hiss escapes you; almost uncontrollably you push back desperate for that sweet friction, however Jungkook moves away denying any sensation. “ Nuh uh, Jimin’s going to be home soon. Wouldn’t want him catching us, now would we (Y/N)? You’ll have to wait until next.”

“You, son of a bitch!” You snap, glaring daggers at his retreating form. As much as you hate to admit it, something tells you this newfound friendship with Jungkook is going to be more than you bargained for.

--------

Despite what your parents may think, your summer vacation home isn’t an excuse to be lazy. While it is true that Korea’s summer vacations are shorter than American's, as a teacher you still have plenty of work left to do during the student’s time off. One such thing happens to be reading over the posts written by your honor’s literature course throughout the break. Normally you graded them at night when everyone was asleep, but as your class delves deeper into the context of Frankenstein, you find yourself unable to keep your nightly routine with the density of the topic. Hence why you now sit in a cafe hunched over your laptop rereading Joni’s obviously copyrighted post.

“You look lost in thought.” A cheery voice teases.

For a second your brain tricks into thinking it’s Jungkook talking, after all he’s been bothering you extra since the two of you made the transition from enemies to fuck buddies. So it wouldn’t be unusual if the dark haired boy stalked you to the cafe to annoy you. However when you look up it’s not tattooed arms or a dopey bunny looking face you see, instead a pair of smiling almond shaped eyes stare down at you, their owner a very familiar reddish brunette.

“Hoseok!” you cry, leaping up only to hit your knee on the table. It throbs causing a sharp expletive to escape your lips. Embarrass you try to shake it off as if it never happened. Last thing you need is to make a fool of yourself in front of him. “Hi, I didn’t see you there.”

“I can tell.” he laughs gesturing towards your knee. “I didn’t mean to startle you, (Y/N). It’s just been ages since I last saw you.”

Your heart skips a beat. Nervously you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears in attempts to play cool. Logically you know you have no reason to get nervous, especially not when Hoseok ditched you at a restaurant after getting told you were a slut by Jungkook. Yet, for whatever reason that small high school girl who idolized him still remains inside you.

“Almost six years. “ You smile. “Time has sure flown by hasn’t it?”

“Maybe but you haven’t changed much.” Hoseok winks, causing your brows to furrow. Haven’t changed much? What was he talking about? Did he not see your clear evolution from loner geek into potential adult? “You’re still as pretty as you were back in high school.”

This time you are pretty sure your heart stops. It takes everything in your power not to gap like a wide-mouth fish out of water. Time seems to slow down in the small coffee shop as you work to come up with a response. Suddenly all the previous noises of chatter, whistling kettles and clanking plates become overwhelming rather than peaceful. Unfortunately even after being in a committed relationship for two years, your flirtation skills are still rusty. “You obviously need glasses then, because I looked like a hobo back then.”

You can slap yourself. Literally-actually slap yourself for that stupid ass comment. Thankfully Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind only laughing even harder than before. “Nah, you were the prettiest girl on campus. Everyone was just afraid of you, because Jimin and Jungkook always hung around you-speaking of which, I want to apologize for how I acted back then. I shouldn’t have ditched you over such a stupid thing like that.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Water under the bridge trust me.” you lie, ignoring the pang in your chest. Just remembering that day brings a new fire of hostility towards Jungkook. No matter how many years pass you still remember the day clearly. You were waiting for Hoseok at a local dinner, anxiously checking your phone for any messages or calls. A full hour passed with you insisting multiple times to the kind waitress that your date was arriving soon, however Hoseok never showed up.

You tried contacting him, worried that something terrible happened only to never get a response. Once home, you even bug Jimin who was friends with Hoseok then about the cheery boy, only to be brushed off. It’s not until you went to school the next day and confronted Hoseok in the hallway that you found out the truth. Jungkook let it loose that you were a slut and Hoseok being the knight in shining armor he was, fought him. They were equally matched with both of them garnering bruises and bumps because of it, but ultimately they were tied.

“Look (Y/N), you seem like a nice girl, ” Hoseok said, brushing you off. “And what Jungkook said about you being a slut probably isn’t true, but I really can’t handle all this drama between you two.”

That day your heart broke in two as dramatic as it sounds. Moreover from that moment you vowed to hate Jeon Jungkook for the rest of your life. “No, it’s really not and I might be overstepping my boundaries, but I would like another chance to get to know you.” Hoseok asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Okay. " the word slips through your lips before you even have a chance to think it over.

His face lights up and any doubt you once had shatters completely. People change, Jungkook did so maybe Hoseok matured too. Either way it wouldn't hurt to try again. "Great. It'll be fun, I promise. "

"I'm going to hold you to that Hoseok. " you tease. Inside you the giddiness grows, it feels as if you walked into some sort of dream or something. Didn't every girl dream of her high school crush finally realizing what a catch she is?

"You won't regret it." Hoseok swears. "Anyway I should let you get back to work, but first can I get your number?"

You rattle it off to him, doing your best to appear stoic, unfortunately the aching in your smiling cheeks suggests utter failure. Afterwards your students' work feels like less frustrating or maybe you're feeling a little generous seeing how Trisha totally bullshited her review yet you still gave a ⅘ on it. Whatever the reason you finish up faster than expected, leaving the cafe with an extra hour of free time. "Well if it isn't a princess set free from her tower!" Someone whistles.

Unlike earlier you have no issue distinguishing the playful voice of Jungkook. Turning towards the noise, you unsurprisingly find him propped up against his car in a cool uncaring fashion. His work clothes only help amplify the appearance; the black suit jacket paired perfectly with his white dress shirt and pants ensemble make him look like a Chaebol rather than plain Jungkook. All in all he looks absolutely mouth watering, but you'd die before ever admitting it. "If it isn't the ogre coming out of his swamp to play. " you tease, pinching his arm.

He chuckles, opening the passenger's door of his black Lexus. "I think you forget the ogre got his princess in the end. "

You wrinkle your nose in faux disgust. "Good luck, finding one. I don't know how many people can put up with your ugly mug. "

"Don't need to. I already captured you. " Jungkook replies, closing the car door.

You blink registering what he said. "That's the cheesiest line I've ever heard."

He shrugs slipping on a pair of faux Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses. Paired with the rest of his outfit, the glasses shattered the image of the rich Chaebol man. Their paint chipped arms and scratched off logo scream 'fake' and you wonder why Jungkook kept such hideous knock offs. "You should get rid of those. They make you look cheap. "

Jungkook scrunches his nose. "No way, they were a gift. "

"A gift purposefully bought from some shady street vendor, because my mother insisted I buy you a college graduation gift." You say, reaching out to grab them.

Naturally Jungkook only needs to lean away to thwart your efforts. "So? I like them. "

"You look like one of those wannabe entrepreneurs on Instagram. "

"How dare you! I have over five hundred followers, I'm legendary!"

"Did Jimin make five hundred accounts? Because he's the only who would follow your ass!" You say, attempting one more shot at retrieving those vile glasses.

Once more Jungkook merely tilts his head blocking your stubby little arms from reaching. "Whatever you say princess, we both know you're the one following my ass around here. "

"I'm following you? How laughable. I didn't know you were a comedian, Jungkook…" the two of you continue bantering the rest of the car ride home.

--------------

Author’s note: Special thanks to @dreamsfromthesandman for editing and putting up with my craziness even if she’s not army.

#bts #BTS jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #sunny writes #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

211 notes · View notes

courtlyharlequin · 4 years

Note

Hello, may I order some rose tea with riddle please~ thank you very much! ♡♡♡

My Rose-Colored Boy

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! There’s also a song by the same name of the title (you should listen to it), but it actually isn’t the inspiration for this fic. The actual inspiration is a song called Green Tea and Honey by Dane Amar. You can listen to it here.

Coffee shop-hopping— unhealthy pastime of yours. You didn’t even like coffee. You label yourself as a tea person yourself. Yet there is a certain atmosphere in a coffee shop that no teahouse could never replicate. While you are not so keen on the bitter aftertaste of coffee, its scent stirs up a foreign sense of solace in your mind. A day’s stress melts away after you waft in the aroma of freshly ground beans. It clears away the murky gray clouds that clog the back of your head. For that reason alone, for that feeling that you cannot get enough of, you visit a plethora of cafes a day if you have time on your hands.

You could easily name your personal favorites but you would never come back to them on a daily basis. You would usually come back at two day intervals. Yes, they were your personal favorites, but you prefer hunting for new cafes, expanding your already extensive list of places to escape from reality– or at least your responsibilities.

Keyword: usually.

For the past few weeks, you find yourself coming to the same cafe every day, on a daily basis. And today, you find yourself at the same cafe once more. This is the second time you’ve set foot into the coffeehouse. Or should you say greenhouse? Café Rosé. A coffee shop with many rose themed beverages. The interior is heavily adorned with faux flowers. The windows were tinted with a rosy pink. The shop smelled more like roses than actual coffee. It’s.. out-putting, but it also induces yet another foreign feeling of comfort within you. Quite frankly, you favor the scent of roses and coffee nowadays rather than the scent of coffee by itself.

But.. that wasn’t the only reason.

The barista greets you as the door hits the chime, cuing your entrance: “Ah! Welcome back, (y/n).”

“Hello again, Riddle,” you curtly reply.

“What can I get for you today?” he asks, making his way to the register.

“Surprise me. I already had my usual earlier today. I would like to… try something new…”

“Alright then. I’ll be ready with your order shortly. Would you like to–”

“Card, Riddle,” you beam, handing the thin plastic over to him.

He took it sheepishly, flustered by your assertive gesture. Every day for the past few weeks had been routine. He knows your usual, your preferences, how you like your tea brewed– the little things that he managed to pick up from your brief interactions. One wouldn’t call him perceptive or observant, but he sees himself as one who is able to connect the dots and see patterns if they are frequently recurring.Of course, Riddle knows that you always pay through card, but he honestly could not break way from his mental script that he practices daily with every customer.

You watch him fiddle with his fingers as the receipt prints.

“Thank you for your purchase,” he says.

You nod as you take the piece of paper, opting to sit at the table with barstools facing the counter rather than your usual nook by the window.

There is something really off about today. Today’s events move fluidly yet ever so slowly. It’s as if the universe let you finally catch your breath. Refreshing, but with this much time on your hands, your extensive list of cafe getaways could not keep up.

Your mind wandered over to a certain redhead barista. Ah.. perhaps he is the only thing particularly “normal” and “hustling” today. He wears the same expression whenever he brews a beverage– furrowed eyebrows and a slight lip bite. He seems out of place, like the kitchen is not a place where he would belong because he has never been in one.

With a clink of a teacup and silverware, Riddle makes his way towards you, firmly gripping the tray to the point where his knuckles are white. His smile seems a bit forced, but not because of irritation. It is because he is still flustered. He has developed a slight attachment to you– a miniscule infatuation that enhances his ability to notice every little thing about you which began with your very first order– the Rosé Latte. You didn’t even like coffee. He watches you from the counter as you gag, rushing to your side. He remembers it ever so clearly:

“Hey… are you alright?” he asks.

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a coffee person is all,” you sigh.

“Then… why did you order a latte with coffee? I could have subbed it out with tea..” Riddle let the latter half trail off into thin air.

“Hmm… I wanted to see if I could find a lover here. If you had changed something, it probably wouldn’t have worked,” you admit.

“Did it really work?”

You jokingly scan the room: “I don’t think so.”

“Hold on for just one moment.”

“Hmm?”

A few minutes later, the redhead returns to your table with another cup in hand.

“Here. One Rosé Latte– the coffee subbed out for tea.”

“Oh you didn’t have to! I’ll just get it nex–”

“It’s on the house,” he huffed, extending his arm further so the beverage would be in such a close proximity that you could not possibly deny it.

“Alright, then. Thank you… ahhhh…”

“Riddle.”

“Thank you, Riddle.”

“My pleasure, (y/n).”

“Wait how did you know my name?”

“Your order? I-I’m not a stalker! I swear!”

“Pfttt. No worries.”

It has been a few weeks since that event has occurred. Riddle is still unsure as to why you opted for coffee since you detest the flavor.

Nearly every customer orders this drink. Riddle isn’t sure as to how the rumor spread, but it seems that the latte truly does make people fall in love. Even his colleagues have found their “soulmates” with a stroke of luck. Okay. He’s a tad envious of them whenever their beloved darlings waltz into the shop with heart eyes, going on and on about the serendipitous encounter. Their interactions cause his feelings of loneliness to swell. Okay, so maybe he is profoundly envious of his coworkers– more than he’s willing to admit, that is. But… perhaps there is some hope in you. Even you aren’t his soulmate or if these unknown feelings are unrequited, he’s content with your daily visit. Seeing you every day is a gift in itself. Seeing you twice today, and right before closing, must be a blessing.

“Your order, (y/n),” he prompts, setting down the tray and handing you the ceramic cup.

You perk up from your haze, taking in the floral scent of the herbal tea waft into your nose as you sigh.

“This is–”

“Rose tea with honey.”

You stare at him for a bit. Rose tea is your usual. The only difference is the addition of a sweetener. He truly did surprise you. Riddle is, and will always be, a by-the-book person. He cannot break away from “routine”. He stares back at you with an eager expression, determined to hear your response.

You take the cup, “Thank you, Riddle.”

“My pleasure,” he beams.

That smile-!! It melts your heart. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself coming back here routinely for this rose colored boy and his radiant smile. He is a person of very few words when handling customers. He’s actually full of them when it’s just you and him early in the morning. Now, Riddle is absolutely terrible at small talk, but he could talk about tarts and roses for an eternity. Conversations with him feel whole, complete... as if they are meant to be. Ahhhh, you did not like the sound of that– routine. However, you did take a liking to Riddle, the rather nitpicky yet timid barista who lives everyday of his life by a routine.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt…

You take another sip of the tea then set the cup down, turning to Riddle who is still standing beside you, fidgeting with the tray.

“Say, Riddle, are you free this weekend?”

“I- Wha- I mean- Yes?”

“Would you like to go cafe-hopping with me?”

“Cafe-hopping?”

“It’s like going to several coffee shops consecutively in one day.”

“I would love to, (y/n),” he says softly.

Bonus:

“Is he aware that that person is his soulmate?” a boy with auburn hair asks huskily, adjusting himself so that his eyes met the bare surface of the cashier’s counter.

“Oi, Ace, stop being so rude. Riddle isn’t that dense! I’m sure they’re both aware!” a hushed whisper replies, shoving him aside so that he could also spy on his coworker.

“But look at him! He’s so nervous, stumbling over his words.. I’m getting secondhand chills… don’t you feel it too, Deuce?”

“Yeah, but he sat down with his soulmate and they look like they’re getting along well!”

“That’s because they’ve got heart eyes and saliva dripping out of their mouth from drooling over each other.”

“Well, I think that-”

Bonk!

“Shhhh! Ace, Deuce! He might hear you. You won’t be able to see tomorrow if he finds out that you’re eavesdropping,” another slightly older with auburn hair scolds nonchalantly as he kneels next to them.

“But did you really have to karate chop our heads, Cater?!” Ace hisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” he giggles.

“Cater, you were supposed to get them to go back to work,” yet another voice sighs.

“Ah, sorry, Trey! It was just so interesting. I couldn’t resist. Oh-! I have to get to a picture as a keepsake for Riddle.”

Before Trey could say: “Wait no-!”

Cater whips out his smartphone, snapping a picture.

“Hashtag: soulmates. Hashtag: Rosé-Café . Hashtag: Rosé-Latte. Hashtag: Go-get-’em-Riddle anddd posted!” he grins.

Trey shakes his head, crouching down to join his fellow baristas.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland oneshot #twst oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #event fic #cafe rose event #fave

122 notes · View notes

huntertales · 4 years

Text

Part One: Two Heads Are Better Than One. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate--on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,518.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“What am I exactly supposed to be looking at, again?”

You tilted your head to the side and stared at the sheets of paper Kevin handed over to you to read over. He called you and the boys into the library this morning after claiming he had a breakthrough worth sharing. The kid had been working on translating the tablet for days now with almost no breaks at all. He was overly eager with what he claimed was some kind of monumental breakthrough. It was the first update he had in weeks. All of his supposed hard work came in the stack of papers you flipped through to discover it was nothing you were expecting. Pages upon pages filled with what you guessed were doodles and illegible chicken scratch Kevin called his handwriting. This was the progress he had to offer. It made much sense to all of you as the words etched into the stone.

You managed to read a few of Kevin’s notes that offered no clarity to the next step in his work, causing you to worry he didn’t make any real progress at all The boys weren’t happy either at the small ounce of hope Kevin had instilled you with his news. You flipped through all the notes to see if there might have been something useful, but it was all the same. Nonsense. You raised your brow in curiosity as to how this was supposed to help all of you. The demon tablet took months to translate just the trials, unfortunately you didn't have that luxury of time. You needed to undo what Metatron did quickly as possible.

"That's your 'big news',” Sam sounded the least bit enthusiastic at the promise turned into a let down at seeing the prophet's notes that were most likely going to turn out to be useless. “is that you translated the tablet into doodles?"

"It's cuneiform." Kevin tried to explain the long and tedious process of how he managed to get to this point. "I hit a wall translating the tablet into english. But I found an ancient codex linking the angel script to proto-elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into elamite, which is—"

“Doodles.” Dean finished the younger man’s sentence.

“It’s extinct.” Kevin added.

“Well,” You let out a quiet sigh of annoyance from his news that all sounded to be turning out the same way. Bad and pointless to even still be talking about this. You glanced back to the doodles in some kind of attempt to make sense of it. You had an ear for languages. But even you found yourself drawing a blank for what the hell this could even mean. “Can you read it?”

“No one can.” He said. “Scholars have tried for centuries.”

“So it’s a dead end?” You took a wild guess at what this meant for you. You threw the papers to the table in defeat at the continuous walls you kept hitting. It felt with each turn you took to try and get yourself out of this angel mess only turned out the same, time spent wasted and no progress to show for your effort. Kevin wasn’t defeated as you were. He thought there might be a way to keep going with this angle.

“Not quite.” Kevin said. You crossed your arms over your chest to hear what the kid had to say, hoping this conversation turned out to be worth your while. "Now, most proto-elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. 'Falling angels.'"

You and the boys exchanged a glance to one another at the set of keywords that had started this entire mess in the first place. Maybe you had been looking at this the wrong way. You thought the answer to your problems would be hidden somewhere in the tablet. Words God spoke himself might not have held the information you needed. You wondered if it was hidden somewhere between the lines. Somewhere most would simply ignore.

"Okay, so, the footnotes to Metatron's spell?" Sam asked, wondering if that’s what Kevin figured.

The kid merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe.”

You let out a quiet sigh from the little information you had to go on. Sam wasn't about to give up just yet. He decided to take the only lead you had going for all of you. The Men of Letters had enough resources to help. "Well, maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell..." Sam thought out loud a possible plan all of you could follow. He made his way to one of the shelves, pulling out some hardcover books for you to read.

“Punt those winged dicks back to heaven.” Dean said. He slapped his hand against the table in agreement with his brother’s genius idea. Little did he realize what was in store for him. “Where do we start?”

"Research." Sam said, saying his older brother's least favorite word when it came to hunts and solving supernatural problems. He tossed one of the bound books to the table, landing with a rather heavy thud. Dean’s expression of hopefulness slowly fell when he realized there was no getting out of this. "We comb through the library, see if we can find anything else on elamite."

The older Winchester grabbed the book up from the table and read the title out loud. His excitement for the tedious research ahead darkened at the struggle ahead. “Zimmerman's Encyclopedia of Extinct Languages Volume One: Adai to Atakapa.” He frowned. “How many volumes are there?”

“Twenty-four.” You said. You smiled in delight at the sight of his drooping jaw and the failure for any words to come out. You placed a hand under the table and lightly patted his thigh in reassurance. “Don’t worry, babe. We have all of them.”

“Awesome.” Dean muttered. You were going to be no help for him to try and sneak his way out of this one. His brother only scoffed and turned his attention back down at his book when Dean subtly pleaded to have some mercy thrown his way. However it seemed there was someone looking out for him. Dean was saved from a tedious afternoon filled with research when his phone went off. “There is a God.”

You rolled your eyes in slight annoyance at how joyous he sounded at being able to slip out from the responsibility of research. You returned your attention back to the first page of the encyclopedia as Dean tended to the phone call. He wasn’t sure who was trying to get in contact with him. It was always a guessing game when a random number flashed across his screen. Dean answered the call after the second ring and was greeted by a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in weeks, not since the awkward departure that sent Cas back on the road alone. The older Winchester wondered if the guy was calling up to reassure him that everything was okay on his end. Or he was in some kind of trouble.

"I may have a case for you. Four missing in Rexford, Idaho. Presumed dead, but no bodies have been released to loved ones." Turned out it was neither of them. To say it was a surprise upon hearing Cas' voice on the other end discussing a possible hunt was a shocker. Dean jumped up from his seat as the man went on without giving even a simple greeting. "And there were reports of a strange substance at the scenes."

"Oh, well, hello to you too, Cas." Dean whispered to the man over the phone, making sure to keep his voice low enough not to disturb everyone who had been working diligently. He knew the moment you heard Cas' name drop into the conversation you would be all over him in trying to ask questions about the whereabouts of the man and how he was doing. So far you had your nose buried in the book and engrossed with whatever you were reading about to care about who he was talking to. “How are you?”

“I...am busy.” Cas answered.

“All right.” Dean mumbled. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the guy. Cas’ people skills were never the sharpest, despite him being down here on earth for a handful of years and interacting with people. Trying to have a simple conversation with him always ended up with words lost in translation. Dean decided not to try and make small talk and go straight to the reason why Cas called in the first place. “So, how do you want to do this? You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?”

Dean heard something that sounded to be liquid splashing over the other line, making him momentarily confused as to what the hell Cas was up to. "Um. I've got my hands full. I just—um..." Cas was quickly learning that he wasn't able to multitask. "...thought you would want to know about the case."

"Hey, are you sure everything's—" Dean tried to be a good friend and ask the man about his transition to normal life, but he wasn't able to finish his question when he was cut off by a dial tone. He rolled his eyes and ended the call. “Okay.”

You and the boys were no strangers to taking on a case with little to nothing to go on. From what Dean heard, this seemed like something all of you might be interested looking into. It might turn out to be nothing in the end. Or it could very well be a monster. All Dean knew for sure he couldn't ignore it without at least checking it out by himself. He forgot the last time he was able to go on a hunt by himself. But he didn’t see the need for you and Sam to tag along when there was so much reading to be done. He wasn’t sure if it was even a case after all. Whatever it did end up turning out to be, Dean was going to run with it. It wasn’t everyday he got a perfect excuse to get himself out of doing research. Before Dean went on his way to Idaho, he knew all of this was going to raise a few questions.

“So, he said nothing about where he is or what he’s been doing?”

Sam was rightfully confused at the shift in plans after Dean silently excused himself from research only to come back with an overnight bag all packed up and the strap hanging off his shoulder. The younger Winchester was given a brief summary of the conversation Dean had with Cas and nothing much else to go on. He was more caught up with the fact that Cas had given no proper details about his whereabouts and wellbeing. Only about some bogus case Sam personally felt would be better suited in another hunter’s hands.

“In case you forgot, he’s not exactly Chatty Cathy.” Dean said, walking a few steps up the staircase before stopping to face his brother.

“And you’re not even gonna see him when you’re in Idaho?” Sam kept on with the questions to try and understand the man’s eagerness to go through with the trip.

“Well, like I said,” Dean repeated the same excuse he gave you when you found him packing up a bag after you noticed his disappearance from the library. “as long as he’s catnip for angels, he’s keeping his distance.”

“So, then what’s the point, Dean?” Sam called out to his brother as he continued to the top of the staircase and towards the front entrance. “I mean, it’s barely even a case.”

“That’s why I’m just gonna go have a little look-see, and we’re not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.” Dean explained to the two men from top the balcony overlooking the lower part of the bunker. If there was one thing Dean was good at, it was always sneaking his way out of wasting a day on reading some dusty old book.

“In other words, a perfect excuse to bail out on research.” Kevin said, calling out the man on his behavior.

“You got me.” Dean felt the need to sarcastically reply.

Sam and Kevin were left to tend back to the tedious amount of research that was waiting for them back in the library. All though they were short a pair of eyes, not all hope was lost just yet. They thought there was still one more person who could help keep the reading somewhat manageable. Or so they thought.

Dean was the first one to notice you had decided yourself that you weren't going to be part taking in research either. He found himself slowing his walking pace when he discovered your lower half sticking out from the backseat of the Impala. While it was always a lovely sight he enjoyed on almost every occasion, this one made a groan of frustration build up in the back of his throat. He should've known you were going to weasel your way into his plans of taking this hunt. You always did. You got yourself out and into a standing position, one hand rested on the car door and the other on your hip. The smile on your lips made him wonder if even holding a conversation as to how you managed to beat him out here was even worth it.

"You honestly thought you were going to leave without me?" You asked him. Dean tried to open his mouth to give you an answer, you cut him off before he could even breathe. "No way. When's the last time you took a hunt by yourself?"

Dean's face scrunched up at your question, "You don't think I can handle one on my own?"

"I didn't say that. Who says you’re the only one who wants to skip out on research? I really didn't want to spend my time reading eight books on a dead language that might help us translate that stupid tablet." You admitted to him. "Besides, we haven't had any alone time in forever. We can make it a little getaway from Sammy and Kevin."

"I thought you didn't like mixing our dating life with hunts." Dean said. You smiled at the little rule you implemented years ago when you both started going out to make a balance. You walked closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his neck to be near. You looked off into the distance and pretended to think for a second.

“If it is even a case. Might be just something for the cops." You said. “And even if it turns out to be one, we can always add a few more extra days. Tell Sam it's going longer than expected."

Dean pretended himself to think about the plan you hatched up. It didn't take much thought to agree with what you had in mind. He didn't see the harm in letting you tag along, it wasn't like he was going to be around Cas to worry about any winged dicks to make things more complicated. He answered your proposal by leaning down for a kiss before hitting the road. He felt your lips stretch into a smile against his own when he agreed. The man knew deep down you would have come along no matter what he said. This way if trouble got in the way he would be able to keep an eye on you.

+ + +

By the next morning you and Dean made it to Idaho with your first stop at the most recent crime scene that was still swarmed with police. You managed to blend in with the uniformed officers from the federal clothes you changed into before making your way here. The both of you flashed a pair of smiles and fake badges at the officer in charge in exchange for some information. While Dean chatted up the sheriff, you took the chance to snoop around the property of the most recent victim.

It wasn't hard to see his living conditions weren't the best. The rundown house he called a home was in desperate need of repairs, not to mention the grass littered with junk from broken down cars to objects rusting from the elements. Despite the neglect to make the place appear tighty, there wasn’t much anything out of the ordinary from what you could tell. All except for for the strange coating on the front windows that overlooked the property. The bubblegum pink clashed with the clutter and ramshackle home. It felt out of place.

“So, four missing?” You asked the sheriff, making sure to watch your step on the wet grass as you approached the police tape securing off the perimeter.

"Four dead." The sheriff corrected you. "Just got confirmation."

“And any common threads you can think of?” Dean wondered.

You bent over the tape and into the crime scene so you could examine the surroundings a bit better. So far what you could tell was the amount of useless junk lying around the lawn that had been neglected from good mowing for a while. Overgrown grass and weeds helped blend in the things he had kept lying around. It was an eyesore for this neighborhood.

"Well, Joe in there had the suicide hotline on speed dial. The gal before him was a shut-in. Head enough antidepressants in her medicine cabinet to stock a pharmacy." The sheriff gave you a quick rundown. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to the theory he had, thinking it might help you in the long run later. “The first victims—a married couple out of Sugar City. Pretty much a walking billboard for no-fault divorce.”

“Were they all basket cases?” You asked.

“If you asked me to make a list of this county’s saddest sacks, these four would’ve been right on top.” The sheriff said, giving her own personal opinion.

“All right, so four unhappy people, one of them definitely suicidal.” You summarized all of the information you knew so far at the moment. You passed a quick glance over at Dean when you gave a small shrug from what you had. It wasn't much, but you had a feeling there was more to the story. "But you've ruled out suicide, right?"

The sheriff grabbed a few pairs of what appeared to be rubber gloves from another officer and handed them over to you. You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion when you realized there were also protective booties for your shoes to help from tracking in any dirt into the crime scene. "You're gonna want to put these on."

You and Dean complied with the request and slipped on the protective equipment before entering the home. The sheriff was the first one inside, opening up the door to possibly one of the strangest crime scenes you had seen in a while. You quickly got an answer to why the windows were tinted bubblegum pink, because the entire place was coated in it. You didn’t know what the hell happened that caused the place to make it seem like a can of paint exploded in here. You highly doubt Joe thought some color in his life would help with his depression.

You made sure to watch your step as you entered the home after Dean followed the sheriff, taken back by the strange sight himself. You spotted a forensic investigator crouched down on the ground taking a swab of the pink substance. Right away you noticed a foul smell that caused you to press your wrist against your nose in some kind of attempt to help muffle the odor. It reeked of decomposition, a smell you were unfortunately quite familiar with.

“This look like suicide to you?” The sheriff's question caused you to rethink your theory. You glanced around the place to try and figure out what the substance was. If the police hadn't identified it yet, you wondered if something supernatural might be to blame for this after all. This was starting to feel more like a case after all. Dean took a wild guess when he asked if the substance was blood. “If the tests come back the same as the others, it’s the same as everything. Blood, skin, hair, nails, internal organs, even clothing fibers—like these poor souls got a run through the world’s finest wood-chipper.”

“What about witnesses?” You asked.

“Same as the rest. Neighbors reported some kind of pink flash. By the time we got here, all that was left was…” The sheriff took a sweep of the room and the remains of Joe, something he couldn’t quite explain. “this.”

You and Dean shared a similar expression with one another at what you were learning. The deaths were odd enough for you to keep digging more into what might be the cause of this. People just don't naturally explode without a proper reason why. It seemed Cas found you a legitimate case. What you wondered next was if he was willing to lend in a helping hand.

+ + +

After checking the crime scene and going through the usual suspects, you and Dean were left back at square one to who or what might be to blame for these deaths around town. The both of you decided to find a motel for the remainder of your stay and switch out of your fed clothes for more comfortable ones. You had a tedious amount of research and what you needed the most was a caffeine pick me up for the long night ahead of you.

You decided to make a quick call to Sam to see how his own progress was going with the amount of reading he and Kevin were forced to do on their own after you abandoned them. You felt a little guilty for leaving them high and dry, but it seemed like they were functioning just fine on their own. And it seemed your suspicions had turned out to be right when Sam gave you an update on their progress.

"Yeah, we're almost through the texts over here." Sam said. “We got nothing.”

“Have you tried Professor Morrison?” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, he’s unreachable. He took a sabbatical to live amongst the trobrianders of Papua New Guinea.” Sam explained yet another useless dead end. You furrowed your brow slightly when you overheard what the professor had been doing in his free time. “Needless to say, we’re pretty burnt out.”

“Well, there’s one guy there who is nothing if not well-rested.” You felt the need to remind the younger man of the extra housemate who had been rotting in your dungeon. Sam scoffed at the thought of Crowley helping out. "I'm just saying. We're not keeping him chained up for the one-liners."

“It’s worth a shot, I gess.” Sam said.

"Just be careful, all right?" Dean warned his little brother. "Don't fall for any of his 'quid pro quo' crap."

“Noted. So, what about you guys?” Sam asked, curious as to how progress was going with the hunt you decided to take. “How’s Cas’ lead panning out?”

“Four victims suddenly exploded. We tried EMF. We looked for hex bags, sulfur—nothing.” You ran down the list of the things you had searched for back at the crime scene only to come up empty with no possible leads of where to go next.

“Spontaneous combustion?” Sam took a wild guess. “Maybe the Thule?”

“No, no, no. We already ruled them out.” Dean said. “The bodies were vaporized. They weren’t burned.”

“That sounds like a real case.” Sam was starting to sound worried from how things were starting to shift into something more serious. "Guys, I should be there."

“No, Sammy. That’s not necessary. I’ve got this under control.” You reassured the younger man. "I'll make sure Dean doesn't get into too much trouble. And bug Crowley, see if he knows anything. We'll call you if we hit a dead end."

When Dean said he was going out for a quick stop, you happily tagged along. It seemed Dean had been doing his own research as well. You found yourself making an extra stop after getting some coffee to discover he wanted to check up on Cas to make sure he was doing all right. He tracked the man’s call to a local gas station.

You ended the call shortly after exchanging a quick goodbye with Sam, letting him see if the king of hell might be of use for once. You slipped your phone into your pocket for safekeeping before setting your sights on the reason why Dean wanted to head out besides for coffee. He had been doing his own research while you were getting settled into your motel. It was to track down Cas after their shared phone call the day before. You were happy to know the guy was doing all right. But confused as to as to why he was working the register of the local gas-in-sip.

This entire situation with Cas and his departure from the bunker was strange that left you bothered. Dean held the same excuse when you asked him days after Cas decided to hit the road again. The man had a target on his back with his fellow brothers and sisters. He thought the bunker wouldn't be safe enough to keep you all from the danger. While you were happy to see that Cas was safe and out of harm's way at the moment, you still didn't understand why. Someone was eventually going to find him trying to blend in with the rest of humanity.

"I don't know if I should laugh or cry." You mumbled under your breath.

"It's kind of funny, if you ask me." Dean said.

“Of course you would.” You said, rolling your eyes. “I still don’t get why he ditched us.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders at the answers he couldn’t give to you. He took a sip of his coffee and watched as his friend waited on another customer like he’d been doing this for years. “I’m surprised there’s no one complaining.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion at what you overheard the man mutter into the paper cup. “What?”

"Nothing." Dean replied a little too quickly. He noticed there wasn't an angel taking control and popping out to warn him about letting you go near Cas. So far it was just you staring at him, curious as to what he was hinting around. "Let's go. I wanna play the lotto. Suddenly I'm feeling lucky."

You knew it was Dean's flimsy excuse to go inside the gas-in-sip and ambush your friend at work. You finished the last of your coffee and properly disposed of it in the nearby trash can before following behind the man into the store. You had a few questions you wanted to ask Cas. You weren’t going to leave him alone until he answered them. And to make sure he was truly safe on his own.

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love

Message me if you would like to be added!

29 notes · View notes

anindecisivespirit · 5 years

Text

Stitches

Written for Whumptober 2019, and never having seen the light of day before now, is Stitches! (Since that was the prompt, that shall be the title.)

Universe: Sanders Sides

Word count: 4,753

Summery: After a less than pleasent conversation with the Core Sides, Remus spirals into a panic. In trying to find a way to be better, he acts on the one thing he’s certain they all hate; his ideas. He can’t stop himself from thinking them, but he can stop himself from saying them out loud. I mean, he already has the string... However, this leaves Deceit and the others trying to fix the damage they've done.

Warnings: Uh... Self-harm (self-mutilation??), needles, stitches, blood mention, intrusive thoughts (violent, odd, and self-deprecating), ideas of violence, possible questionable Virgil(?), suicidal thoughts, misunderstandings fueled by anxiety and intrusive thoughts, panic, threats (both serious and as jokes), Sympathetic Deceit & Remus.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What if chocolate milk really did come from brown cows? Where would pink milk come from? Flamingoes?” Remus asked suddenly, causing the other Sides to jump, as if they had forgotten he was there. Or, maybe, like he hadn't remembered to announce the fact that he was there in the first place. And… oh, right. He had forgotten to tell them.

"Remus!" Roman snapped, standing from his seat at the table. "What are you doing here?"

Remus forced himself not to flinch at the suspicion lacing Roman’s voice. The 'Light' Sides had been eating lunch- tacos, apparently, even though they should know burritos were better. Keywords here being had been. Now, though, Patton was staring at him with fear painfully apparent in those wide eyes, all while Virgil glared and Logan eyed the situation with a cautious - perhaps callus - sort of neutrality. And Roman…

His brother was annoyed - maybe even angry? -, glaring at him from where he stood by the table. Suspicion practically rolled from him in waves. Remus smiled, just a bit too widely, a bit too forced.

"Can't I just visit my dear friends every once and awhile? It's been so long since we all talked!"

Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

"That is entirely incorrect, Remus,” He said. “You were here just yesterday. If I remember correctly, you wanted to discuss the best ways of hiding a dead body, along with the effects of teleporting directly to the bottom of the ocean."

"Aw," Remus said, sending a small smile and a wink Logan's way. "It warms my heart to know you care enough to remember!"

Logan just sighed again, and Roman took a step forward, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, however, another thought caught Remus's attention.

"Or, could I light my heart on fire? It’d be warm, then. What would it taste like cooked? Would it go good on tacos? It might be too chewy, though, so that might not be a good idea."

Patton's face looked slightly green as he ducked his head, staring down at the floor. Huh... Remus hadn’t even said anything ‘wrong’ this time.

"Remus," Roman said impatiently. "Either tell us the real reason you're here, or get out."

"Preferably that second option," Virgil muttured. "We don't need any more 'ideas' from you."

This time Remus couldn't help but step back slightly, but he covered the movement up well enough. Or at least, no one seemed to have noticed it. Was that worse? Was it worse if they just didn't care enough to notice? Or they could be ignoring it. Ignoring him. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.

"I-"

"And please," Patton interjected softly, glancing up at him. "Say it in… in a nice way?"

Remus's chest felt tight. It was like something had wrapped itself around his ribs, threatening to constrict, and suffocate, and break him apart. He knew what Patton really meant. It wasn't about how kind he was, but how much of himself he repressed, how much he let them see. They wanted him to be more like Roman. Kinder, just a bit quieter, easier to control. Easier to deal with. To get rid of. It wasn’t about being nice- it was about getting him out of their way faster, simpler, cleaner. It was to get rid of him again. He hesitated, just for a moment, searching each of the other Side's faces for anything besides irritation, contempt, and fear. Something warm, something welcoming, or even just something that didn't nail home the fact that they wanted him gone. Any sign that he might be welcome. And… and there was nothing.

"...Ah, no. No, it's nothing important," He muttered, his words for once catching in his throat, before sinking out back to his room.

...He was just slow enough to see the relief shining on their faces as he left.

Remus ran his hands through his hair as the bright, warm light of the common area’s dining room was replaced by the familiar, cold chill of his room. It was always either freezing or burning, no matter what he did. He could never fix anything. Could never do anything right. His fingers caught on the tangled curls of his hair, catching and tearing and his thoughts felt the same way, caught on that moment, painful and repeating, repeating, repeating, repeating-

Remus shook his head sharply, shutting his eyes tight as if that would cast out the image of their relief - relief at his absence - from his mind. It wouldn’t. It was never that simple, no matter how much he always hoped that it would be, even just once. He began to pace through his room, counting out each step, focusing on the constant impact of his feet against the floor (not that he could go very far without running into a cluttered pile of random junk or a shelf).

"Stop it," He muttered, shaking his head wildly as more and more thoughts began to flit through his mind, whirling around like a thousand tattered pages in a hurricane. They all hate you. You should be more like Roman. But it's their fault you're like this in the first place! Kill them, tear them apart, they deserve it- No, they don’t. You’re the problem. You aren't good enough. Not for them, not for Thomas, not for anyone.

"Stop it!" He snapped, pulling at his hair, the pain just barely registering, taking a backseat to his panic. He couldn’t do this. He needed help- he needed to go to Deceit, or Virgil- no, no, no, Virgil was one of them now, he hated Remus and Deceit both-

For good reason. Have you ever considered just leaving? Dying? Fading?

"N-no, I haven’t, and I w-won’t," He hissed, and wow- that lie wouldn't even fool Roman. He shook his head again, wild and panicked, casting his gaze frantically around the room, trying to find anything in the layers and layers of trinkets and trash to distract himself with. It was usually easy, and he could direct the flow of his thoughts at least partially towards whatever he found. It was one of the reasons his room was so full of junk.

Right now, though, there was nothing. Not a single thing caught his eye.

Speaking of, could you tear your eyes out? Do they pop like grapes?

Remus could go try cooking, or baking, or- or something. That kind of thing seemed to help Deceit and Patton destress, but right now he'd probably burn the kitchen down. Or just burn himself.

"Gah! It doesn't even matter!" He finally snapped, spinning on his heel and falling backwards onto the mountain of pillows and blankets that made up his bed. "I don't care what they think! I don't care! So just stop it!"

Remus didn't need Deceit's ability to pick out lies to hear the distinct ring of a falsehood in the words. He cared. He cared about the hate, and disgust, and contempt. The way he was too much and wasn't enough at the same time, cast aside and stomped on. If anything, he cared just a bit too much. He tried not to let it get to him- even tried to act out even more than he usually would, because if they were used to him being worse, when he acted normally they'd accept it, because he was better, right? But it never worked.

Just fade. Leave. Die. Duck out.

No. There had to be something. Something that would get them to accept him easier. He just- he just had to figure it out.

And… there was definitely a common thread between their complaints. Voices drifted into his thoughts, memories of conversations with all the others. Plenty from Patton-

'And please, say it in… in a nice way?'

'Thomas doesn't need any more of those thoughts!'

'Don't say things like that!'

'Why would you- That's horrible!'

A few from Virgil-

'Look, say anything you want, just keep it away from me.'

'You know I don't like hearing about this stuff!'

'Just keep your mouth shut for once.'

Logan-

'I'm sorry, but I'm busy. I don't have time to hear about nonsense right now.'

'Your brand of thoughts will not help at the moment, we need to keep stressful ideas away for now.'

Roman-

'I don't want to hear it!'

'Your ideas are so… so horrible! It's no wonder we split!'

'Can you be quiet for once in your life?'

'In as little words as you can, what are you doing here?'

'Ugh! Just stop!'

Even Deceit-

'Remus, I am in the best of moods. I can deal with your ideas right now.'

Every single complaint was about his ideas- about what he said. He just had to stop sharing them. If he could just stay silent and stop the thoughts from slipping out, then… then they would like him more. They would accept him. But how did he…?

You know how. All you have to do is find some string...

Remus sat up. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. He just needed… His gaze caught on a specific pile of junk a few feet away, one filled with a dozen different kinds of fabric, yarn, and string.

He felt slightly numb as he stood and retrieved a spool of light green thread. Scissors were close by. A needle soon followed.

He cleared the counter in his bathroom, setting his bounty down carefully. He wasn't really doing this, right? He wasn't- he couldn't-

It'll work. Just do it, and you'll see.

Remus's fingers were somehow steady as he threaded the needle, staring intently into the mirror before him. He raised the needle to his lips, and made the first stitch.

It hurt, but he pulled the string through anyway. It hurt, but he kept going. It hurt, but it was for the best.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deceit frowned, looking up from the common room up the stairs to Remus's door. The other Side hadn't come down for hours, and frankly, after hour two of no interruptions to his work, Deceit had started to worry. Sure, there were days Remus locked himself away or stayed in the Imagination, but it was on those days that the Side needed the most help. Deceit was sure that Remus had left to visit the others at some point, and that made it somehow even worse. Remus would usually regale him with a detailed account of his conversations and experiences. Whether Logan had to step in to keep everyone calm, if Roman was at a loss for words, or if Patton actually snapped for once. There hadn't been any stories today. He hadn't even seen Remus since this morning.

Still, Deceit had yet to check on him, even hours after that. He really should have, but… For all there were days that Remus needed people to be there with him, there were also days where Remus was better off left alone.

Deceit sighed. Dinner had been ready for ten minutes now, and he had been hoping that Remus would be drawn out by the smell alone. No luck there, it seemed. It was time to check in.

He walked up the stairs, stopping in front of the door. It was green and black, nearly hypnotic in the way the colors swirled together. It was almost like oil on water. Deceit raised a hand and knocked, waiting patiently for the door to open or for Remus to shout a greeting or refusal. A few moments passed.

He frowned, and knocked again.

"Remus? Are you there? Dinner isn't ready," He waited. Nothing. He had been sure Remus was in there… Just as he was going to knock again, the door opened. He smiled, slightly relieved, before he saw the duke's face.

Remus’s eyes were slightly red, like he'd been crying earlier. His hair was a mess - even more than usual, at least -, tangled and sticking up every which way. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The part that truly shocked Deceit was his mouth. Stitches ran along his lips, the skin red and puffy were the string disappeared into flesh. It looked like Remus had gone over the stitches several times, multiple threads running together, some of the strands stained pink and crusted with dried blood. Each stitch was closely knit, firmly sowing Remus's lips shut.

A sharp, hollow feeling crept into Deceit's chest.

"Remus," He whispered, eyes wide. "What… what did you do?"

The duke rolled his eyes, and moved to speak. He winced as the strings held, blood slowly dripping from a few of the holes. Remus grabbed Deceit's hand instead, tugging him into the room. Deceit followed numbly, mind struggling to process what was happening.

Remus grabbed a paper from his bed, presenting it to Deceit, somehow uncertain and proud all at once.

Deceit blinked, taking it. Everything felt… slow.

‘Dee, I've sown my mouth shut,’ the note started, painful in the way it was causal. ‘You guys You and the others made it clear that you want me to that this is the best option. I-’

Deceit's hand was shaking. Suddenly, reality caught up with him. He dropped the note, watching it flutter to the ground.

"Remus," He said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself?"

Remus's eyebrows knit together, and he pointed down to the note on the ground. Right. He'd done it because he'd felt that everyone would prefer him this way, Deceit included.

"I never… Remus, I would always prefer you to be silent and hurt over being yourself!" Deceit hissed. "Maybe I have a lot of patience at times, but I always wanted this!"

Remus blinked, drawing back slightly. He seemed confused, like he'd expected Deceit to be happy about this. Like he had honestly thought that he was doing something good.

"What brought this on?” Deceit asked. Things had been getting better for them recently. It was far from perfect - very, very far from it - but Remus had shown no sign of things getting this bad. “What happened to make you think that… that this was the best option?"

Remus paused, hesitating for just a moment before scooping up the note from the floor and pointing to two particular words. The others.

Deceit's hands clenched into fists. How dare they? How dare they?! It was bad enough with how Thomas pushed them away, but for the other Sides to make Remus feel this way? They had no right.

"Remus," He said, trying to keep his voice level. "Please, remove them? We can work everything out after."

Remus shook his head, not meeting Deceit's gaze, as he gently tapped the note again. Right. The others.

"What they think doesn't matter!" Deceit snapped. "Which one was it? Who made you think you had to do this?! We can go and tear them apart."

A small smile tugged at Remus's lips, though tears had started to gather in his eyes. Anger surged up in Deceit's chest. This had gone too far. They had hurt Remus. They had made him cry. Sure, Deceit had a part in it, something that hurt far more than the other Sides’s scorn ever could, but the others were involved as well. And they had gone too far.

Deceit gently pulled Remus into a hug, giving him enough time to pull away. He could feel the other Side slowly relax in his hold, before wrapping his own arms around Deceit's shoulders. He could feel the duke trembling, and heard his sniffling as he cried softly. It had been a long time since Deceit had heard Remus cry, especially like this. Stifled, quiet, and painful- what should have been loud sobs condensed into sniffles and whimpers. Remus hated repressing himself, whether it be in laughter, anger, or even tears. And Deceit could feel his heart break as he realized that Remus had no choice but to do so now, with the stitches firmly in place. it was either this, or risk pain as his wails tore the string through his skin.

"Shh, it's not alright," Deceit murmured. "You're not alright."

He gently rubbed circles into Remus's back, whispering reassurances as Remus broke down. They remained like that for a few minutes, before Remus’s shaking slowly became subtle trembling, and his breath evened out into something just a bit steadier. When he finally seemed to be as calm as he was going to get, Deceit pulled away, keeping his hands on the other Side's shoulders.

"Is there any way I can convince you to take them out?" He asked, frowning as Remus just shook his head again. "...Then how about we pay a visit to the others? And if they still make you feel like this is for the best… well. We can kill them, or at least steal their kneecaps."

That got a soft snort from Remus, which had been Deceit’s goal, but it quickly became a soft sound of pain as the stitches stretched. Still, he slowly nodded in agreement with the new plan.

Deceit took Remus's hand, squeezing it gently to offer a bit of comfort.

"Then let's go."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus allowed Deceit to pull him into the Mind Palace, appearing in the corner of the common room. Suddenly, for all he hoped that Deceit would be right and Remus had simply read things wrong, or fell victim to faulty logic again, or went too far, fear gripped his heart tight and refused to let go.

They'll hate him more when they see what he did. They'll drive him out, or Deceit would actually kill them. Rip them limb from limb, snap their necks, cut through their stomachs, tear out their hearts-

Remus ducked his head, hiding his face. Deceit squeezed his hand again, grounding him. It gave him something to focus on beyond his thoughts, something he was extremely grateful for.

He should have just gone to Deceit in the first place…

"What are you two doing here?" A voice demanded. Ah… of course Virgil would show up first. He always did have a knack for knowing when something was wrong.

"Ah, Virgil," Deceit said calmly. "Don't be a dear and call the others, would you?"

"No. I don't care what you guys want, or what you're playing at, so just leave."

Remus tried to open his mouth, taking a sharp breath as the movement tugged at his stitches. Pain stabbed through each stitch as he grimaced, and his breath caught in his throat. Carefully, he schooled his expression into something calmer.

"Now, now, Virgil," Deceit admonished. "This is in no way important. We will be leaving if they don't speak to us."

Virgil growled.

"I don't want to play your stupid games Deceit! Just-"

"Virge? Kiddo, is something-"

Remus wished he was looking to see Patton's shocked face at finding the two of them here, but he couldn't move his head from its place tucked against his chest. He couldn't let them see.

"Morality," Deceit greeted coldly. "Well, now we have two of the four."

"Deceit, Remus," Patton acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

Deceit sighed.

"It seems no-one is asking that, and everyone is listening to the answer. We don't need all of you."

"Why?" Patton asked warily.

"This is a very unimportant matter," Deceit hissed, temporarily losing the calm control that he usually had. "If you don't call them right this instant, you will not regret it."

"Ooh," Virgil mocked. "Scary. What, Remus finally shut his mouth, so you have to do the threatening part for him? Gotta say, you aren't that good at it."

Deceit's grip on Remus's hand tightened. Remus himself couldn't help but flinch slightly at Virgil's words. He knew it. He knew they would be happy.

"Anxiety," Deceit said lowly. "If you want to see us leave, you will stop. If you make another remark like that, I swear you will lose your eyes, pinprick by pinprick."

"Deceit!" Patton shrieked. "Don't you dare say something like that again! I would expect that talk from Remus, not you! Now behave, or we'll have no choice but to make you leave."

"Patton? I heard yelli- Deceit!" Oh. Logan was here. Great.

"Logic," Deceit said coldly. "Be reasonable and get the prince down here."

"Why?"

Remus listened as Logan was given a rundown of events by Patton and Virgil, and then sighed. Remus could almost picture the other Side pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Well then," Logan muttered, before the sound of someone rising up filled the air. "Now we're all here."

"Logan!" Virgil snapped.

"What? If they have something important to say, and won't leave until they say it, it would be best to get it done and over with."

"Uh, why am I- Gah!" Roman cried, and there was a thump as Remus assumed his brother backed up into a wall. "Why are the Dark Knight’s here?! What the heck is going on?!"

"That," Logan said, "is what we will hopefully find out now. Deceit? What is it that you have to say?"

"...That you are all a bunch of fools masquerading as far kinder people than you are at heart. That you can't see the consequences of your actions. That you wouldn't see reason if it stood in front of you waving its arms and screaming."

"Woah now, kiddo," Patton said, "What are you talking about?"

"Obviously, it doesn't actually matter," Virgil muttured. Remus huffed softly, forcing himself not to try to speak past the stitches. It wouldn't do any good. Still, it was a lot harder than he'd first thought it would be.

"You are all just-" Deceit took a calming breath. "Remus? Would you like to show them?"

"Show us what?" Roman asked warily. Remus hesitated, before slowly lifting his head. It would be fine. It would be fine. Just show them. The thoughts circled in his mind, giving him the courage to meet their eyes.

Patton gasped, hands flying to his face as horror overtook him. Logan took a sharp breath as Roman stared with wide eyes. Virgil just watched, frowning.

"K-kiddo, what… what happened?" Patton whimpered, voice muffled by the hands still covering his face.

Remus shifted uncomfortably, and Deceit growled.

"You did! All of you! Somehow you got it into his head that we'd all appreciate this!"

"I mean," Virgil said coldly. "It's certainly an improvement."

"Virgil!" Patton and Logan said at the same time. The anxious side shrunk back, a frown settling on his face.

Logan slowly approached them, stopping as Deceit shifted to block Logan from reaching Remus, like a mother bear defending her cubs. Logan held up his hands, calm and quiet. Maybe Logan also saw the comparison, like Remus did. The way it seemed that Deceit might lash out if he took another step, like a wild animal. Afraid. Protective.

"I only want to see how bad it is. Is that alright?" He asked, acting almost as if any loud noise or sudden movement would result in Deceit snapping. Maybe it would. Remus hadn't seen him like this in a long time.

Deceit paused at Logan's words, before looking towards Remus. It would… it would probably be fine. Logan wasn’t cruel, or hateful. He was only unwelcoming and cold. Remus nodded hesitantly, and Deceit begrudgingly stepped aside to let Logan through. Remus eyed Logan warily as he stepped up to him, moving with that same calm, soothing manner that he had with Deceit.

"We saw you just this afternoon. How many hours has it been since you did this?" Logan asked gently, tilting his head to look closer at the stitching. Remus slowly held up four fingers, and Logan frowned. "This is… well, suffice it to say it's bad. We need to remove the stitches-"

Remus shook his head sharply. Logan frowned, looking towards Deceit, a lost expression on his face.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well," Deceit said, smiling bitterly. "Since he did it for all of us, he'll only keep them if we all agree."

"Oh, of course I don't want this!" Patton all but shrieked. "I might get overwhelmed by you, and not exactly like your contributions, but that doesn't- I never wanted this!"

Roman stepped forwards, still blinking away his shock.

"Remus?" He said quietly, sounding almost scared. "Is this… is this because of me? Of what I said today?"

Remus looked away. It was, partially. He didn't blame them, though. But… based on their reactions… maybe he had gone too far?

"W-well, if it's our stance on this you want, I…" Roman paused, clearing his throat and gathering the right words. "I would greatly prefer it if you let Logan help you. Actually, I'd prefer it if you had never done this in the first place. I'm… I'm sorry, Remus."

"I believe that it's clear what I think," Logan said. "I apologize if I contributed to your decision. Please, allow me to assist you."

Remus blinked, eyes stinging. He tried to open his mouth, wincing as pain shot through his lips and cheeks. Deceit sighed softly.

"I don't agree with them."

Remus wasn't sure what was going on. They all… they all thought this way? Had he really messed up so badly? Logan he had suspected, and he knew Deceit's opinion. Roman, though? Patton? He had thought they would be glad. Remus's gaze drifted to Virgil, along with every other Side. Virgil shrunk under the undivided attention.

"I… Look," He sighed, "I don't like being tricked. I can see the signs of one, even if you guys can't."

"Virgil," Patton said, confused. "Do you really think Remus would hurt himself just to make us feel bad? It… doesn't sound like him."

"Maybe not," Virgil agreed. "But Deceit would do it."

The entire room froze, holding its breath. A thousand thoughts ran through Remus's head in a single moment, but they all screeched to a halt as Deceit spoke, hands trembling slightly.

"Who are you?" He asked softly, and Virgil flinched. "Clearly, you are not Anxiety. He was untrusting and as cold as he was paranoid, but he could still see the obvious. Not Virgil either. He was open and worried, but he saw clearly. So who are you? Who are you to be so cruel? So oblivious and uncaring?

"Do you even hear yourself? You can't be Virgil. He actually knew us. He would know that I would never go this far. That I would never hurt him or Remus. So I will ask again; Who on this earth and all the rest do you think you are?! Who do you think you are to accuse me of that?! To accuse him of that?

"Who are you?"

Virgil stared at Deceit with wide eyes, along with everyone else in the room. Remus looked closer and- were there tears in Virgil's eyes?

"I-I…" The anxious Side gaped, then frowned, and scowled, and then finally grimaced. "I just… Just… do whatever you want."

With that, Virgil sunk out. Everything was quiet for a moment, before Logan coughed lightly.

"W-well, we can handle that later," He said. "Before we do that, are you willing to remove the stitches now?"

Remus hesitated, before nodding slightly. Patton glanced between them and the space where Virgil had disappeared, frowning in uncertainty, before Roman whispered something into his ear. Patton paused for just a moment before he nodded, ducking out after Virgil. That was probably for the best…

Remus was led over to the couch, Deceit sitting on his left and Roman on his right. Logan knelt in front of him with a pair of small scissors and tweezers, gently cutting and pulling the string back through each stitch.

It hurt, but Remus forced himself to hold still. It was… odd, to be surrounded by so many people that were there just to be there. Only the two of them were missing, and understandably so. Virgil… they'd have to talk with him soon. Hopefully Patton was dealing with that alright.

After every stitch was removed, though his lips still stung, Remus opened his mouth and said the very first thing that popped into his mind;

"T-thank you."

"Of course," Logan said, smiling softly. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

"I disagree," Deceit said, nodding. "I would not appreciate it if this was a one-time occurrence."

Remus laughed softly, and… though they would still have to deal with Virgil, and for all that had happened, he thought that...

That maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

179 notes · View notes

tanzaniiite · 5 years

Text

well shit // midoriya x reader

requests: OPEN

warnings: none!

word count: 1,191

a/n: i saw a prompt of a bunch of sleep headcanons and my impulsive ass couldn’t just not write about one. ngl i’m not too proud of this one, let’s pretend this is a crack piece.

___

As most people know, training to be a pro hero is hard work. Anyone who says it’s easy is a damn liar and you would be more than happy to call them out on their bullshit. Aizawa wasn’t impressed with half of the class goofing off during yesterday’s training so he doubled the training regimen for today. To say you were “sore” is an understatement. Your body felt like jelly and you felt like your limbs could pop off any second now.

“Oh Y/n, you’re back from training!”

You lifted your body off the couch to look for the voice that just called out to you. You smiled as you saw it was your boyfriend, Izuku. The lucky bum didn’t have to succumb to training because he was at his work-study agency for the day. “Hey ‘Zuku” You said, before plopping back on the couch. You heard his footsteps walk towards you before the weight of the couch dipped further. “I heard Mr. Aizawa was hard with the training today… you okay?” Midoriya asked, looking at you with concern.

“No. I’m dying” You stated dramatically, suddenly sitting up. “I’m hungry, sore as fuck and tired” You whined, looking to your boyfriend with a pout on your lips. As much as he didn’t want to, Izuku couldn’t help but laugh. This only caused you to pout more, “My suffering is not funny!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away from him. Midoriya stopped laughing, trying to cover it up with a cough. “Of course, totally not funny. But I have something that might make you feel better” He said, piquing your interest. You turned your head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow.

Midoriya smiled and opened his arms, “I may not be Recovery Girl but I think cuddles may help with your condition” He explained, motioning for you to come closer. You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face as you scooted closer to the green haired boy. You laid your head on his broad chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. His hands rested on the small of your back, slowly starting to trace random shapes. You sighed happily as you snuggled your face further into his chest. “You’re so warm” You mumbled.

Izuku chuckled, the noise causing his chest to vibrate slightly. “I’m glad you think so, you’re kind of warm yourself” He replied, kissing your forehead before pulling out his phone. This wasn’t new territory for him, he knew you would fall asleep in a couple of minutes and he would be stuck for a while.

Just as he predicted, you fell asleep five minutes after you two started to started cuddling. Your soft snores reaching his ears causing him to smile softly. What he didn’t predict, however, was how much he would need to pee. Suddenly the crazy amount of water he had throughout the day was starting to seem like a bad idea. At first the urge was light, he felt he could hold it until you woke up. But slowly but surely, his bladder was screaming at him for release. But you were still on him, sleeping soundly. And what kind of boyfriend would he be if he woke you up for something as mundane as using the bathroom?

Soon Ochaco walked through the common room with Tsuyu talking about something. Midoriya saw this as an opportunity to finally get up, “Pssttt! Pssttt!” He whispered, trying to gain the attention of his peers. Tsuyu looked over to Midoriya and saw your sleeping form on top of him. “Oh hey Midoriya, comfortable?” She asked, a teasing tone lacing her voice. Midoriya laughed nervously, “Haha, yeah I was but now I really have to pee–“ He started to explain. Ochaco squealed, “TMI Deku!” She said, turning away, her face flushing pink.

“Sorry, sorry. Just.. can you guys make some noise to wake Y/n up? I don’t have the heart to do it myself” The green haired boy claimed, motioning towards your sleeping body. “So let me get this straight.. you want us to wake up your girlfriend because you have to pee and can’t do it yourself for some reason?” Tsuyu recapped, tilting her head to the side. Midoriya perked up and smiled, “Exactly!”. Both Ochaco and Tsuyu looked at each other before laughing hysterically. “S-Sorry Deku but no dice. I’m sure Y/n will understand” Ochaco claimed, trying to get a full sentence out with being interrupted by giggles. Tsuyu shook her head, “Yeah sorry maybe ask Bakugou? He’ll have no problem making some noise” Tsuyu suggested, before walking off with Ochaco.

Izuku groaned, throwing his head back on the arm of the couch. He really had to pee now and he was afraid if he waited any longer… he might just pee on himself. The green haired boy took a deep breath and slowly moved from his place underneath you. His body froze as you shifted while mumbling something incoherently. Midoriya sighed before moving again, this time your arms tightened their grip around his torso. “Y/n.. please. I really gotta go” He muttered. ‘Okay Izuku, here’s the game plan. Just move from underneath her as fast as you can, then bolt for the bathroom. Yeah! By the time she realizes what happened, she’ll probably think it was some dream and go back to sleep. Haha.. yeah… that’ll totally work.’ He thought, smirking to himself slightly.

Okay, here we go… 1.. 2.. 3..!

Unfortunately the boy’s plan did not go as planned. Instead of slipping from underneath you effortlessly, he managed to push you accidentally causing you to tumble to the ground. Izuku panicked and almost stayed to make sure you were okay. Keyword: Almost. His bladder wasn’t very happy with him for keeping it full for this long, so your boyfriend ran to the bathroom as fast as he could. You, on the other hand, were disorientated and confused. ‘How did I end up on the floor? Wasn’t I just cuddling with ‘Zuku? Wait… where’s ‘Zuku?’ You thought, whipping your head from side to side while looking for your green haired boyfriend. Midoriya sighed with relief as he exited the bathroom, now he knew to always use the bathroom before cuddling with you.

“Oh. Hey ‘Zuku! How was working with your agency today?”

Izuku perked up at the sound of your voice, “Oh it was good..” He replied. Wait… why were you talking as if you had only just seen him? ‘Oh my gosh, did I give her amnesia?! I’m the worst boyfriend ever!’ Midoriya thought, his mind spiraling. “Y’know I had the weirdest dream. I came back from training and we were cuddling on the couch but when I woke up you weren’t there? I guess I dreamt about you because I missed you, how romantic is that?” You giggled, smiling at your boyfriend as he chuckled nervously.

“Haha, yeah… so romantic”

Bonus!

“HE DID WHAT?”

“Yeah, he even begged us to wake you up for him”

“Of course we didn’t do it”

“IZUKU MIDORIYA COME HERE RIGHT NOW”

…

“I’m in danger”

180 notes · View notes

mercy-of-the-ashes · 4 years

Text

My Complete Thoughts On Haiji Towa and My Experiences As A Haiji Fan

Hey, guys. It’s been a while since I made a new post. I’m hardly on Reddit, but that’s obvious. As you can see from the title, I rewrote my Haiji post again, but I assure you, it’ll be the last time I do this. After all this time, I left out so many details, and I wanted to make sure I say everything that I want to say here. That way, I can just move on while knowing I got everything off my chest. Obviously, this post is about, you guessed it, Haiji Towa, the most controversial and hated Danganronpa character of all time. And it’ll also be about me and my experiences as a Haiji fan. It’s a very long post, so please bear with me.

Note: I do not want to cause drama by posting this. I’m not targeting anyone nor do I want anyone to target me for this. I’m just going to state all of my honest opinions about Haiji and my experiences in the fandom, and what I think about both. If anyone doesn’t want to read what I have to say, please turn back and ignore my post. You have been warned.

Haiji Towa is, believe it or not, my favorite Danganronpa character. Yes, I said it and for the first time since I joined the community a long time ago, I’m not ashamed anymore. However, I’m not blind to the hate he gets on a daily basis. I’m well aware of it, along with other things I’ve experienced for more than a year now. So for the third and final time, I’m going to explain my full stance on Haiji without leaving anything out. Again, I’m not defending him for what he is in canon. I don’t condone his actions in any way, shape, or form, so always keep that in mind.

Now Haiji is hated for a variety of reasons, and I’m going to list them and discuss my own opinions about each one. So let’s begin!

1. Haiji’s a pedophile! Why do you like a pedophile?!!

To start things off, I’ll get the obvious one out of the way. I know and understand he’s a pedophile, but it doesn’t mean I like him for that reason. That’s a disgusting reason to like him, and I’m not one of those people. I’m not deliberately ignoring that little detail from his character because I like him. Just because I like him *doesn’t* mean I support pedophilia. I hate that they made Haiji one, and the worst part is I accidentally found out about this way before I even got to Chapter 4 during my friend’s playthrough of Ultra Despair Girls. I’ll admit I was in denial, and I wanted to believe it was some sort of misunderstanding. Sadly it wasn’t one. Some say it was just a lame joke Haiji made, but I don’t know. Regardless, it broke my heart because I didn’t have a problem with him before that happened. But despite this, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him like 95% of the fandom. And I shouldn’t be forced to hate him. I hate the fact that he’s a pedo, not the character himself. Call me insane if you want, but it’s the truth.

2. Haiji’s a child abuser!

Another thing that I know and understand. Yes, the way he treated Monaca was wrong on so many levels, including calling her an alien or unwanted and always reminding her that she’s unloved. Abuse is and will always be wrong. Haiji hated her out of bitterness and jealousy, especially when her genius intellect started to shine, and he just didn’t care about her at all. What he did to a child was cruel, there’s no denying it.

3. He’s a jerk, a coward, a horrible leader.

I’d say that I’m not blind to this as well, but this is just me having to repeat myself over and over. I know what he’s like. Haiji’s a jerk and a coward who didn’t fight back against the kids and Monokumas. He didn’t do much for the Resistance, but he should be given some credit for trying to keep the surviving adults safe. Sure, he didn’t do anything until Komaru’s inspiring speech, but he did what he thought what was best for the survivors. The keyword is “thought.” And I have a feeling I know what someone might say immediately, which will lead to the next point in a moment.

I’m not familiar with leadership, but I know Haiji’s not a perfect leader. People have pointed this out a lot from what I’ve seen. He accused Komaru and Toko of luring the Monokumas even though it wasn’t on purpose. He didn’t listen to anything they had to say. He doesn’t fight back right away. But did it ever occur to anyone that he doesn’t know much about leadership? He didn’t know what he was doing, just like any inexperienced person would if they wound up in a similar situation. But he did have some good points. I actually sympathized with him when he first appeared. He didn’t want to fight back if it meant risking the survivors getting killed. Also, Haiji did admit he was being a coward later on, so he knew he wasn’t being a good leader. He’s not the perfect leader you would expect, but he did try. Of course, his bad choices do hinder what should have been decent choices.

4. Haiji’s selfish!

Alright, his desire for revenge is selfish. He cared more about himself and what he wanted out of this, but if he truly didn’t care about others, why did he form the Resistance in the first place if he didn’t care about anyone else? I don’t approve of him wanting revenge against the Warriors of Hope and the brainwashed kids, but I understand why he would feel that way.

5. Haiji wanted to kill all the kids!

The scene from Chapter 5 is one that I will always remember. I confess that I was against Haiji for wanting to break the controller, even if it meant killing all of the brainwashed kids. His selfishness, rage, and revenge intensified here. He even attacked Toko, a character I used to despise. She’s not a favorite, but even I hated when he threatened her. Haiji was an irrational bastard throughout this chapter, and hating him for this reason is valid just like the first two. But I still understand his behavior here. Also, note that I didn’t include the other two reasons, so I’ll get to that in a moment.

Now that those reasons have been covered, I can get to the part where I can discuss my overall opinion. All of these reasons for hating him are valid, and some of them are more valid than the others. But I want to do something first. For this next part, shove the pedophilia and child abuse aside. Pretend those traits don’t exist for a moment.

Put yourself in Haiji’s shoes. You are the heir of Towa Group, a conglomerate that will be all yours someday. During your life of luxury in a city that you are destined to run someday, you discover you have a stepsister, Monaca. She later surpassed you and is helping the company, making you feel angry and jealous because a child managed to surpass you. You feel threatened and useless, and you develop an inferiority complex.

To not make matters worse for you, you just ignore her (considering how the wheelchair “accident” already happened). As long as she’s making the company profit, you don’t care what she does. The company is what matters to you. But little did you know, those Monokumas she’s developing are “death machines”, but you’re too late to realize it. You choose not to risk the company exposing everything, so you don’t say anything to not lose everything you’ve been working hard on for a long time.

Then suddenly, your father is killed right before your eyes by the same Monokumas. You barely manage to escape, but unfortunately, you get attacked too. Your arm is ripped apart and you scream in pure agony as children laugh at you. It’s a traumatizing experience for you, but because of all the conflict, your emotions take over your mindset. You blame it on the children. Monaca, who had manipulated everyone, is the enemy in your eyes. You begin to hate the children with all your heart, and wish for vengeance.

You’re forced to hide, unable to fight back after what had happened. You try to think of a plan, but deep down, you’re too afraid to do anything. Everything was traumatizing to you, so you just remain hidden from danger all while making sure the survivors don’t suffer the same way. But when words of encouragement inspire you to fight back, you rally up all the others to fight the kids that you have grown to despise for what they’ve done. Blinded by hatred, rage, and revenge, you don’t care if the kids die. You’ve suffered so much, you just want it all to end at all costs.

This only explains some of his actions, but seeing things from his perspective is key to understanding Haiji’s way of thinking. I did this because people don’t seem to notice that Haiji’s an emotion-driven man. He’s intelligent despite people claiming that he’s an idiot, but his emotions clouded his logic. He can’t think logically because he’s so fueled by revenge. He’s not an idiot, he’s inexperienced. He didn’t know what he was doing. His emotions dominated rationality, which in turn led to the way he was in-game. Being selfish and filled with revenge alongside being emotion-driven and unable to think clearly makes sense.

“But he’s a pedophile and an abuser!” I know that already, but I’m not defending him about that. Excluding the forced pedophilia and abuse, all of Haiji’s actions aren’t being excused here. I’m not excusing any of his actions at all. Understanding them and supporting them aren’t interchangeable. I wouldn’t be writing this post if I were the blind fangirl who believes that he did nothing wrong, something that people accuse me of being. Well, apparently it’s false. I can like a character without liking everything that a character does. Liking everything about a character is a dangerous mindset that I don’t have.

On to my next opinion. Haiji Towa had a lot of wasted potential. I don’t know why all of his untapped potential was never utilized. He had so much going for him, it kind of hurts to see a lot of ideas being poorly executed. In my honest opinion, Haiji could have been written better. UDG intended to make characters fall into the gray area, but even without the obvious stuff, Haiji still could have worked to fit with the theme that not everyone is completely good or completely bad. The pedophilia and abuse were forced and unnecessary to me because with everything else, Haiji already fit the theme of the game. The extra push was overkill in my eyes.

And then there’s the argument which states that he was meant to be hated, so that’s why Haiji is the way he is. Some people even told me that I missed the point of his character. No, I didn’t. I know he was made to be hated, but wasn’t Monaca the one meant to be hated? Why drag Haiji into it? Anyway, even if Haiji was made to be hated by everyone, I’m not obligated to like it. For me, they ruined him, ruined what could have been a great character, and I know there are people who feel the same way.

Haiji wasn’t allowed better writing. He didn’t get more focus, and never had a chance to get redemption. If they had taken better care of his character, Haiji could have been an antihero type of character who would get a redemption arc. He had plenty of traits that fit the character type, so all he needed was redeeming qualities and more focus to make him less of a plot device and more of an actual character. I like antiheroes, and that’s what drew me in to his character.

Why am I passionate about a character everyone hates? This will shock people, but Haiji and I have a lot in common. Again, the pedophilia and abuse do not count. We are emotion-driven and insecure. It can be proven by those who know me, and even I’m aware of how emotional and insecure I can get. We don’t always think logically, and it screws us over. We are cowardly and paranoid, too afraid to take risks, and we are hotheaded by struggling to see when we are wrong and don’t ask or accept help. We get jealous of others who upstage us (except I never abused nor will I ever abuse anyone), and we do hold grudges.

Haiji and I are both passionate in our own ways, and we are both intelligent when we can be. Plus we dress casually, and we can be sarcastic and laid-back when we’re not jerks. Yes, even I can be a jerk towards others, but my positive qualities outweigh my negative qualities.

However, unlike Haiji, I’m trying to overcome whatever flaws we both share, but it takes time to improve myself. Trying to be more confident and rational isn’t an easy task. Heck, I still struggle with accepting help from others. Also, I used to be vengeful towards others for a variety of reasons, especially after I was emotionally abused by a toxic friend, but I’m doing better now. I still express bitterness towards her and people who have hurt me recently, but I’m not out there seeking revenge.

Removing the pedophilia and adjusting some things, Haiji could have had more depth, only he wasn’t allowed more attention. It’s pretty sad when I think about it. He’s one of the most realistic characters of the series, and he was handled improperly. All of this is why I was driven to do something about it, which now leads to my own portion of this post.

*************************************************

My experiences as one of the few Haiji fans have resulted in mixed feelings about the fandom. When I realized I liked Haiji more than expected and started to see the hate he constantly gets, I knew I was taking a risk when I decided to tackle something. That something was my goal to create an AU Haiji Towa. I never saw anyone do it before, so I knew it would cause problems, but I did it anyway.

Basically I started writing stories where Haiji isn’t a pedophile or an abuser (at least not to an extreme). My stories gained attention as time went on, and I admit I got so excited knowing that people acknowledged my efforts. So I kept going with them alongside my Haiji roleplay accounts. In a sense, I made this into a commitment, plus I was having fun writing a more likable version of Haiji. But there was a problem that I didn’t realize until recently. My Haiji was too different to the point where he was an OC.

I won’t lie, I refused to see it, but people did question my efforts because of it. I’m embarrassed to look back on those memories now that I know they were right. It’s no wonder he was rejected in Killing Game roleplays. That problem is now solved now that I’m rewriting all of my Haiji stories. They are stories that are now deleted, but they will come back but better. The way I roleplay Haiji was altered as well. It felt like all of my efforts were for nothing, but they weren’t. For my new portrayal of Haiji, I’m going to lean more towards canon, but considering how his backstory and personality are lacking in some areas, I can still take creative liberties with my AU Haiji.

I know I’m saying all of this as if nothing bad had happened, but I did say I’ve developed mixed feelings about the fandom. First off, the hate towards Haiji fans is ridiculous and disturbing. I’ve never seen so much hatred for a fictional character, ranging from wishing death upon him to hating actual people. Hating Haiji is valid, but the fact that people hate those who like him is taking things too far. They are falsely accused of being pedo/abuse apologists. I experienced that myself, and it’s annoying.

In my case, I was accused of glorifying Haiji Towa, so anything to do with him was banned from a place where I usually hang out often. Talking about him, roleplaying as him, anything related to Haiji, is banned. What made it hurt for me is the rule seemed like a call-out. Why? It said it doesn’t matter if it’s an AU Haiji, it’s still an issue. Just because I like him doesn’t mean I glorify pedophilia and abuse. I said this a million times to those people, yet my voice remained unheard. A minor detail was when they also accused me of liking him just because he’s attractive. Yes, I do believe he’s handsome, but that’s not the only reason why I like him, or else why would I write this post? Why make this if I’m a “shallow fangirl” who doesn’t see issues with him? I’m not stupid to behave like that, and I hate it when people misunderstand or underestimate me.

Another embarrassing moment was when my tastes in characters was questioned. They told me that I shouldn’t like characters like that, but again I don’t like Haiji for those obvious things. The same can apply for any character. People can like whatever character they want without supporting everything that they do. So, if I like Korekiyo, I support incest? I like Kokichi, do I approve of compulsive lying? What about Tenko, does that mean I hate men? NO. I don’t support any of those things.

And another thing, I like Haiji, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do the same things as him. Liking a character doesn’t equal being the character. Hating a character doesn’t equal hating people who happen to like a character. People like characters for thousands of reasons, and doing this sort of thing puts Haiji fans in a negative light when we don’t deserve it. Without a doubt, there are Haiji fans who…like him for being a pedophile and/or an abuser, but those are a minority of Haiji fans. Fans that should stay away from me and everyone else. Not all of us are pedo/abuse apologists, and these false accusations only serve to demonize us when we are innocent.

I hate to bring up this next thing, but it’s something that caused me to lose trust in people. This whole time, I thought they encouraged and supported me for liking Haiji and my efforts to create my AU Haiji. It turns out they didn’t. On one hand, I understand why and I can respect that. I’m not trying to change everyone’s opinions with this post. The reason why this hurt was I trusted them. I thought they were on my side, but then I realized they have been questioning me and never appreciated my efforts the whole time.

Two things come to mind. The first one is I don’t care if people hate Haiji, but people should at least respect those who do. Hate Haiji, but respect me. But if people hate me in the process just for liking Haiji, then there’s nothing I can do about that. As for the second thing, I know not everyone will appreciate my AU Haiji. Even after they made me realize the way I’ve been writing him, it won’t resonate with everyone. It’s not a big deal there, but I still felt like they lied to me, as if my efforts have been invalidated. The same people didn’t attack me directly, but it doesn’t change the way I feel.

What’s worse is, I almost tried to write Haiji as he was in canon because they believed it was the right way to do it if I wanted to give him a redemption arc. I was forcing myself to do it, but my heart kept telling me this isn’t what I want to do. I can’t stick with all of canon, it goes against my principle to keep the pedophilia and some of the abuse out of my AU Haiji. That’s what I’ve been doing all this time, and I’m not going against that. I’m sorry to those the people who suggested it, but I don’t want to do it. My plans for my own version of Haiji wouldn’t work if those things were intact. I’m done trying to please others. I’m a writer, and I like to write stories that don’t make me feel like I’m forcing myself to write something in some way. I want to write what I want, not what others want. So my plans for my AU Haiji will be a combination of all of the things I added to him, and what’s canon to make him a better AU Haiji. But no pedophilia and abuse (at least the severe kind of abuse). Ever.

I apologize if I sounded irritated in some places, but I’ve had a lot of emotions bottled up and I just knew writing this post would help me release them in a more productive way. The last things I want to say is all of this toxicity in the fandom is insane. I don’t hate anyone. I used to, but I realize I don’t care anymore. It’s a waste of time. What I do care is people should be allowed to like whatever they want without people breathing on their backs and making them feel bad.

If I hadn’t tackled my AU Haiji, I wouldn’t have returned to writing ever again. I was in a bad place because of the abusive friendship I had dealt with years ago. I haven’t written anything for years until I became a Haiji fan. Haiji, or Danganronpa in general, revived my love for writing. And I wouldn’t have met my friends on Discord if I hadn’t done any of this. It’s thanks to them that I’ve done so many things that I never imagined myself doing, and it’s thanks to them that I’m doing my best to improve myself as a person. It’ll be a long journey, but I don’t have to do it alone. So despite the toxicity, it was worth making it this far.

I’m lucky that I’m still here doing what I want to do. There were times when I wanted to just give up, but I have friends, real friends, who support me and don’t want me to give up on what I love. And I won’t. Besides, there are Haiji fans out there who feel the exact same way as me. If people could give them a chance, give us a chance, they could see that we’re great people. In the end, I didn’t just write this post for myself. I wrote it for all the Haiji fans out there that are afraid to speak up. And they’re right to stay hidden, and personally, I hope they see this post.

Alright, I’ve said everything that I wanted to say. I hope you guys took the time to read this lengthy post. Please respect my opinions, I never wrote this to cause any harm, but I needed to say everything that I’ve wanted to say for so long. Now I can put this to rest and move on.

#ooc post #words from the mun #thoughts from the mun #confessions from the mun #haiji towa #au haiji towa #danganronpa #danganronpa au #danganronpa another episode #danganronpa another episode ultra despair girls #ultra despair girls

10 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 7/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing, mentions of sexy times, but not smut

Word count: 3337

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

It was like the air had suddenly been sucked out from the world, leaving him a heaving, dizzy mess in the void. His dad. His old man. The person that was supposed to love him unconditionally but had been abusing him since he was a little kid was the one the Mind Flayer was using as a host. “I’m gonna kill him,” Billy seethed. “Did he touch you?” he doublechecked every inch of Y/N’s body. “I’m gonna fucking murder him.” “Billy, he didn’t do anything,” she put a hand on his cheek, and he practically melted, taking in a shuddering breath and nodding. “I didn’t even see him. I’m alright.” “Was he,” he gestured vaguely around, “you know, possessed when we went to his?” Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know, but he was by the time that whole thing at Tina’s happened. But Billy… he knows… about Clara. I tried to keep them out of my head but,” her chin wobbled, and Billy had to keep his composure. “He’s so strong,” Y/N whispered. “Like, not to say what happened to you wasn’t horrible and painful and bad, but he’s,” she shook her head. “He’s so fucking strong. I don’t know how we’re gonna stop him. If we can stop him.” They thought the Mind Flayer might have evolved, they knew it could, but with the way El had struggled against the small piece inside of Y/N, she couldn’t even imagine what battling against the full force of that thing would be like.

“We gotta close the Gate,” Hopper said. “It’s our only option.” A murmur of agreement spread through the people in the cabin, Billy’s attention still on Y/N as she flinched when she reached for the glass of water Robin had offered. She practically gulped the whole thing in a second. Only then did Billy realize how thirsty he was too, but he could wait. “Is my mom,” Max’s lip quivered, making Y/N look at her, and Billy reached for his sister's hand squeezing it in comfort, something that just five or even three years ago he would’ve never voluntarily done. “Is my mom one of them?” When Y/N shook her head no, Max almost sagged to the floor in relief. “I didn’t feel her. He has a lot of others under his control – Tina, Tommy, Vicky, pretty much everyone else that didn’t leave the party that night… they drugged the punch and knocked everyone out, and then Neil helped them bring the rest to Benny’s where… ya know… they got possessed and shit…” Y/N groaned trying to stand up, but when her knees buckled, she opted for staying on the bed. “How does your back feel?” Robin asked, making everyone remember that before being possessed by a Mind Flayer, she’d been dragged away by a monster with knives for fingers. “Like a Demogorgon wanted to make a skinsuit out of me,” Y/N shrugged and hissed at the pain. Without it possessing her, she was back to herself, and it meant she was back to feeling things and not just ignoring the unpleasant itch in her back. Billy was instantly in action mode. “Okay, we need to clean those. Don’t want you getting an infection.” Joyce was immediately on her feet. There was an old bottle of vodka, she’d found in Hopper’s room from that day when she’d ditched their ‘date but not date’ to instead go to Mike’s science teacher, and she went to grab it. “Vodka doesn’t have an expiration date,” she muttered to herself taking a clean cloth as well. “Here,” Joyce gave both of those things to Billy, and Y/N sighed. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warned soaking the rag with the alcohol and reached for one of the leather restraint that had been wrapped around her wrists. “Yeah, I’m kinda expecting it to,” she grumbled and bit down on the belt. With one final nod, Y/N readied herself, and he pressed the cloth against her wounds. Searing hot pain erupted throughout her body, and for a second Y/N’s vision went completely white. She grabbed onto the sheets and fisted them between her fingers, holding back the scream. Honestly, she’d rather be possessed by the Mind Flayer than feel every single time the alcohol ate at her wounds. And oh god, when Billy had to peel away the scabbed over parts… Y/N thought she’d pass out. Hoped she’d pass out. Childbirth had been easy compared to the torturously slow movements as each crusted bit was ripped from the gashes leaving them open to the air. She spit the belt out to the floor and growled, “Hurry the fuck up!” “Sorry, sweetheart,” Billy murmured seeing Y/N’s face scrunch up as he dragged the cloth across the third out of five slashes. “But I gotta be thorough.” It dragged on for five more agonizing minutes before Billy and Joyce deemed Y/N’s skin would not rot and fall off her back. For the time being at least. She’d definitely need to see the doctor first thing in the morning. “I think these might need stitching,” Billy trailed a careful palm along the two of the deepest gashes. “Yeah, nope,” Y/N shook her head heaving and shuddering, and Joyce applied a compress to her back. It had some sort of a cold salve on it, and it instantly relieved her blazing skin. She’d been the only one smart enough to remember about El talking about Y/N’s wounds, so while everyone had gathered tons of tinfoil, Joyce had bought a first aid kit and some other things that she considered might be necessary. “Thank you for cleaning them up, but I ain’t letting you anywhere near me with a needle and thread,” Y/N smirked. “Wha- hey!” he exclaimed. Usually, he’d slap her arm playfully, but this time he opted out on it. “Do I need to remind you when you tried, keyword tried, to sow up Clara’s dress?” she gave him a pointed gaze and shook her head, smiling as Joyce muttered a ‘men’ underneath her breath. Steve who had joined their little group once the gross stuff was out of the way, crossed his arms and snorted. “What happened?” “I ended up having to throw it out,” Y/N gestured at Billy. “Because cross stitch is so hard.” “It wasn’t that bad,” Billy protested but accepted his defat and helped to wrap the layer of gauze around Y/N’s back. Immediately it got soaked and turned a scarlet color, but it was better than leaving the scabs on with millions of possible infections underneath them. And the red was a much pleasant color than the pitch black. “She’s just being dramatic.” “Frist of all,” Y/N hissed and pointed a finger at him. “I’m allowed to be dramatic. At least right now. Second of all, you managed to sow the dress to your jeans, and then, when I told you to just cut the thread off and pull it out, you cut a hole into the dress.” “It was a stylistic choice.” “Yeah for what, her third arm?” It seemed insane to be bickering about what were now minuscule things. A ruined dress. Billy’s inability to sow. Him being in absolute denial about it. Insane, but nice, given how the actual things they needed to worry about were the possible invasion of their world by an interdimensional alien, a Russian army opening up the Gateway between the two universes and her father-in-law being the main henchman. “How do we explain this to Clara?” Billy nudged his chin towards Y/N's back, and her eyes widened. “Fuck,” she swore under her breath. “I hadn’t thought about that…” There was no way she could just brush it off, and their little Terminator had to know everything. It had been an interesting enough conversation when she’d asked about her dad’s scars, but now when her mom would arrive home with a destroyed back was not something, they thought they’d have to deal with. “You might also wanna figure out what to say to mom,” Alex said as he stood to the side, arms matter-of-factly crossed over his chest. “What? Why?” Alex’s eyes widened. “Graduation’s in like a few hours, and you're gonna show up like that?” That’s when the rest of the kids also remembered Friday was just three hours away, and graduation only fifteen. “Oh, shit,” Max muttered sharing a look with Mike, Dustin, Will and Lucas. El hadn’t gone to a public school, having been taught by Hopper and then Joyce at home. “Well, we can’t go,” Mike said. “This is bigger than some fucking graduation.” “Hey, watch your mouth!” Hopper said pointing at the teen. He was still in the mindset of ‘keep the door open three inches’, no matter if four years had passed. “I think going might be our best bet,” Y/N butted in. “Or at least, you have to go.” “Not to be rude, ‘cause I know you went through some pretty dramatic shit,” Lucas said, “but Mind Flayer versus getting a piece of paper,” he made a gesture as if he was weighing the options with his hands. “The Mind Flayer wins.” Y/N shook her head and stood up, leaning heavily against Billy. “He still needs to keep up the appearances. I mean when Billy was possessed, he went to his job at the pool, so I can guarantee he’ll be at the school. And that’s when we can strike.” The thought of attacking the Mind Flayer and bringing the fight to him, instead of how it usually had been with it striking first, made everyone perk up and start talking, but Billy didn’t join in, even though he might have the most cause to. Instead, he tugged on Y/N’s palm making her attention flit just to him and look at his furrowed brows. It seemed as if the formulation of the words on his tongue were the hardest ever, but in the end, he got them out. “What did you mean by ‘the three of us…?’ When you said you wouldn’t let me taint the three… of you…” “I don’t know…” she shook her head. “I have no clue where that came from.” “Do you,” Billy swallowed harshly and wrung his hands together, “do you think you might be pregnant again?” That thought had crossed her mind, but Y/N didn’t think it to be plausible. Every time they’d had sex they’d been very careful, as they weren’t planning on having another kid. Sure, Clara hadn’t been planned either and turned out to be the best gift ever, but they were doing really well at that moment, so another gremlin would be quite jarring. “I don’t think so… I had my period right before leaving.” “Yeah, but we did have a lot,” he emphasized the word and smirked, “of fun at the motel in the morning. And when we got to yours in the shower… and before going to Tin-“ “Okay, you don’t need to recount every time,” Y/N chuckled feeling heat crawl up her body. “I remember, I was there.” “You better, otherwise, I’d need to remind you.” She tilted her head to the side. “I wouldn’t complain about that. Like at all.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “If it was though…” Y/N bit down on her lip. “Would you want it? Another kid? Would you want one?” Billy snorted cupping her cheeks and giving her a sweet kiss. “If you’d ask me to run through Hell barefoot, I’d fucking skip through it with a smile on my face.” “So, would that be a yes?” “You’re such a dork,” he shook his head, the affectionate grin never leaving. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.” He scoffed. “You better fucking be.” “We’ll figure it out…” Y/N nodded her head as if affirming herself they would. “If we get out of this alive.” “When,” he growled back. “When we get out of this alive. Don’t you dare talk that way.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m just being realistic.” “Well stop it then.” He grumbled like a toddler being told he couldn’t have any more candy. “Be optimistic.” Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re not only Keg King, but the King of Optimism as well.” He watched her bring Nancy’s given shirt over her head and helped the woman let it slip over her body. Billy loved that body with every inch of his being. He loved each and every birthmark, scar and dip, and now it had been completely rearranged by some monster. There was nothing in the world that would make him think of Y/N as anything as beautiful, but a small part in his head screamed at how much he hated the rips that would scar over at some point. They had been his fault. His ugly marks on her gorgeous body. “Where’s uh where’s your ring?” Y/N asked, clearing her throat and bringing him out of the pondering. This was so not the conversation she thought she’d ever have. It was like they’d had a silent agreement to never take the golden circlets off, so seeing his finger bare, with a pale line around it, made her stomach churn. “When you were missing, I asked El to help find you. She needed something that had a connection to you…” he shrugged flexing his fist. “This was the only thing I could think of.” “And why haven’t you put it back on?” It seemed like the question completely shifted the mood, and Billy let out a sad chuckle. “ ’Cause I don’t think I should.” Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?” She could feel tears burn at the edges of her eyes, but Y/N was not going to let them fall. Instead, she cleared her throat and repeated the question in a much softer tone. “That day when we got married, I promised to protect you. I might have not said it out loud, but I promised it to myself.” Unlike her, Billy allowed himself to fully feel the emotions, a drop rolling down his cheek. “And I failed. How can I put it back on, how can I promise that to you, when I broke it in the first place? I know it wasn’t you saying all those things, that it was the Mind Flayer using my fears against me, but it had a point. I don’t deserve you. Or Clara. For years this whole life has felt like a dream, like a fluke that I’d gotten so lucky. And now I know it is, ‘cause there’s no way I could ever deserve you or your forgiveness.” Y/N thought she’d be sad and hurt by his words, but instead, she was just pissed. “Forgiveness for what?” “For this whole thing,” he gestured at her torn-up body. “Had it not been for me, you wouldn’t have been possessed by that fucker. Had it not been for me, we wouldn’t have gone to Tina’s. I wouldn’t have gotten drunk and pissy, and you wouldn’t have had to wander off into those fucking woods… this whole shit’s my fault…” Her lips were pursed into a very thin line before, Y/N nodded. “Okay, so answer me this – did you know the Gate was open?” “N-no,” Billy stuttered out not sure where the conversation was going. “Did you know the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer were back?” Once again, he replied with a soft ‘no’. “Did you have any clue any of this would happen?” her voice was getting louder with each word. Billy hid his face in his palms but shook his head no. “Then why are you punishing yourself?” “Because who else am I supposed to punish?!” he exploded jumping up. “You?! I was the one who put you in danger, I am the one with the shit father who’s even shittier now! All of your biggest problems in life have been because of me, and now whenever we’ll go to the beach, whenever you’ll take a shower, I’ll have to see those fucking marks on your back that you wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for me!” Y/N was practically shaking as she stood face her husband, despite the tendrils of pain rippling down her back. “I did not sit by your hospital bed for two whole days while you were unconscious, I didn’t spend my last summer here with you in the ICU for you to say this bullshit to me,” she seethed and moved closer. “Now, you’ll listen to me Billy Hargrove, we’ve been through so much shit, it’s insane. I could write a novel about it and still, there wouldn’t be enough pages to tell the full story.” Her gaze was piercing, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Y/N’s. No matter how much Billy wanted to, it was impossible as every word found its mark, yet he still listened to her, still nodded along and let the tears slip down his cheeks, his wife’s soft thumbs brushing them away. “I did not go through childbirth, through doubting myself if I’m a good person, let alone a mother; I did not go through this shit, only for you to tell me that you don’t wanna wear that ring anymore, cause guess what? I’ve fucked up too. That day at the pool when we got into that huge argument and the whole Mind Flayer shit happened to you? I blame myself for that.” Billy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But – but it’s not. You had nothing to do with it… it just happened, it was bad luck.” “Exactly,” a painful smile of relief made her lips pull up hoping he'd get where she was going with it. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I can’t control the Mind Flayer, but I still blame myself. Maybe if I’d been more understanding, maybe if I’d tried to work it out, it wouldn’t have happened... you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” His hands shook as he settled them on Y/N’s waist, pressing his forehead tightly to hers. He’d never even considered that she blamed herself for that summer’s events. He never even entertained that idea, ‘cause it was simply untrue, so he didn’t spend time on it. “You blame yourself for this, and I blame myself for what happened to you... even though it was neither of our faults... So,” Y/N let out a shaky breath, “put that fucking ring back on your finger, or I swear, I’ll serve you some divorce papers.” Billy chuckled, pulling back from the embrace to fish out the ring from his pocket, but not before pulling Y/N in for a passionate kiss. Fuck, did it feel good to kiss her again. “Yes, mam.” Beautifully, as if it was made to sit at the base of his left ring finger, the piece of jewellery slid on and stayed there. As it would forever. “I love you,” he whispered pecking her lips. “I love you too, dumbass.” “Whatever you say Mrs Dumbass,” he bit on his bottom lip and glanced down at her. “You’re an amazing person, by the way. And an even better mother.” Y/N mouthed a ‘thank you’ against his lips before caressing them again. “You two okay there?” Joyce asked peaking inside the bedroom as they stepped back from one another. Only then did they realize when the argument had started everyone else had left the room to give them privacy to work things out. Billy nodded, smiling over at Y/N. “Yeah, we’re alright. But I think we’ll be even better when we decide what to do with the whole Upside-Down thing.” “I think I have an idea,” Y/N sighed and, leaning heavily on Billy’s shoulder they entered the living room where everyone else was. Max raised a concerned eyebrow, thumb between her teeth, and when their eyes met, she gave the redhead a small but assuring smile, making her heart lift from her feet back to her chest, knowing that everything was okay between the two. Hopper opened his arms and then put them on his hips. “We’re all ears.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Hawkins’ Charm tag list: @genius2050 @aiifandomsunite @ashleymarieriffle @littlefool-smalljester @infinitelycharmed23 @llcalumllhoodll @benevolentgemini @rxmanovbby @euphoniumpets @krazykatykat456 @believerofall @ccidk @babechief @meganmj @blackhood5sos @fml9603 @noodlenerd101 @universefinds @kuroidesuchloe @im-a-stranger-thing @grxxn-gardxns @springholland @beforethebraces @robinisourlesbianmom @queeneliza108 @neenaw-neenaw @lexisntthatweird @choicesismylife @mckenzie2020 @kcd15 @snuggleducky @reckless-sofia @didyouseetheflair @silver-winter-wolf @jay-ta-blog @hopeless-lovex0 @anyasthoughts @robinismyqueen @yeah-butyourenot-dacremontgomery @mcrganstarks @psychoticobsession @cutehipstergirl25 @sbfandom @mickmoon @jackyfrost01 @txhmine @dark-princess99 @morgangrice18 @changingmylifestyle367 @sweetdayme4427 @alowexpectation @sexyvixen7 @golddvstwoman @evelynfreakinaddams @sunfucked @sataninsatin @queenbbarnes @venomavocado @rangotangomango @psychosupernatural @sereiins @frickin-bats @bandsruinedmylife @thee-brunette-princess @queenskyster @aspiring-fangirls-world @gracethegeek9902 @katiexdacre @dreamwavej @escaping-reality21 @void-fire-rose @slvtherinseeker @paranoiadestroyah @arromite @jojo-buttercup @danarysstormborn @graveyard--baby--666

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

A/N: heya! Sorry for the delay on this part, but I had such a full weekend that I just didn’t have the time to write or post, but I hope you enjoy this part. The next one might be the last or close to that, but I have a few other Billy imagines in mind, so if you wanna be tagged in any of the future fics drop a message (whether Hawkins’ Charm tag list, Forever tag list (means you’ll be tagged in EVERYTHING or just Billy’s :) )

ALSO! HOLY SHIT WE HIT 6K!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! THANK YOU!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU THAT LIKE WHAT I CREATE AND IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME THAT YOU’RE STICKING AROUND :****

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. what did ya think? :)

399 notes · View notes

today-we-will-survive · 5 years

Photo

moodboard made by me

Title: Spring Is Here (And It’s Trying To Kill You)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Y/N ft. OT6

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: This is a fic for @njssi for @kwritersworld Spring Fic Exchange! My keyword for this fic was “Pollen Allergies”. I hope you enjoy 💜

It’s supposed to be a fun, relaxing day with your best friends, celebrating the end of the cold months and hanging out before they go back on tour but you can’t help the uneasy feeling that’s growing in the pit of your stomach as you look around the field at the tiny specks floating on the breeze. Those evil little balls of fluff and pollen are your worst enemies, and here you are completely unarmed. Of course the ONE day you probably need your allergy medication the most is the day you forget it. Gooooooood job.

“Y/N!” You tear your already itchy eyes away from the dastardly floating specks to find Hoseok grabbing stuff out of the back of the van. “Could you help me real quick?”

Namjoon, Seokjin and Yoongi are occupied trying to set up the canopy over by the picnic table, and if you weren’t already feeling miserable, you’d be enjoying the laughable sight of their struggle but as of right now, you’re just trying to keep the inevitable sneeze in as you make your way to the back of the van. The three maknaes are busy setting up a volleyball net—correction, Jungkook and Taehyung are pretending to have a sword fight with two halves of the poles while Jimin sits on the ground tangled up in the net, watching helplessly.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Hoseok asks when you get to him, his own eyes filled with concern, surely over the way yours are watering.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say and sniff hard to try and keep your nose from dripping. Though, you’re pretty sure the sniffing just makes it more obvious that you aren’t, in fact, okay. “Uh…I forgot my allergy medication.”

Hoseok looks around at the field. “And you agreed to come here?” he asks in disbelief. “This is probably the worst place for you to be without your meds.”

“Well, I wanted to hang out with you guys,” you say. “This might be the last time I get to before you leave for your tour next month.”

Hoseok sets down the bags he was holding and puts an arm over your shoulder. “You know we wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you,” he says. “Jungkookie would never let us hear the end of it.”

You pull out of the hug to meet your friend’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, nothing,” he says unconvincingly. “Why don’t you go help Yoongi-hyung and the others with the canopy?”

Your burning eyes narrow in suspicion and you purse your lips as you look at him. “Ooookay,” you finally say. You want to remark on the fact that he was the one to ask you to come help him in the first place but he’s already grabbed more than he should be carrying and speed walking to the picnic table.

With a quick press of your palms against your eyes, you wipe away the tears that are forming and sniff again. Of course, this just adds to the pressure already building in your sinuses. This day is not going to go well. But, when are you going to be able to see your best friends again before they leave for six months? Though maybe “see them” is the wrong term to use since everything and everyone around you is now just a bright blur. You let out a congested sigh and make your way miserably over to where the two oldest and their leader are looking down confusedly at the heap of tarp and poles on the ground.

It takes a bit of delegating and you explaining to Seokjin that he has been trying to read the german instructions but eventually, the canopy is up and moved over the top of the picnic table. The volleyball net has finally been raised as well and while Seokjin and Yoongi start on lunch, Jungkook and Hoseok argue over who gets who on their teams.

“Really? You’re going to make me take RM?” Hoseok whines.

Namjoon lets a loud scoff. “Wah! I’m not that bad!”

“Last time you somehow managed you give Tae and yourself a concussion with just one serve!” Hoseok yells back.

“That took talent,” Taehyung adds from where he stands hanging on the net beside Jimin.

“Alright!” Jungkook says over the top of them. “I’ll take RM-hyung but I also get Y/N.”

You look up from the hole you’ve been digging into the dirt with the toe of your sneaker and squint through the allergenic haze that clouds your vision. “What?” you ask with a hard sniff. “Me? I’m not even that good.”

Hoseok elbows Jungkook in the ribs. “Yeah, JK, she isn’t even that good.”

Jungkook just shrugs and if you could actually see anything, you’d notice the pink that has started to tinge his ears.

It’s true. You aren’t very good. But at least you aren’t a hazard like Namjoon tends to be. The game goes pretty much how you thought it would. Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung absolutely demolish you and usually a loss this epic would cause Jungkook to pout but he seems in good spirits, taking any opportunity to get close to you, lifting a blurry hand to exchange high fives or diving for the ball at the same time you attempt to go for it just so he can catch his balance by wrapping his arms around your middle for support or to keep you from falling.

By the time lunch is ready, your head feels like it’s completely full of cotton, your nose is red and raw from you constantly wiping at it and the guys keep giving you lingering gazes from around the table. You can imagine each stare is filled with concern but you can’t actually see their expressions. Any time one of them offers to take you back home, you cut them off, saying your fine and trying your hardest not to look so pitiful, letting your aching face stretch into a smile and batting your lashes in an attempt to hide the fact that your eyes make you look completely stoned out.

Once lunch is over, the boys opt to play some more volleyball but the idea of expending even more energy when you feel so crappy doesn’t sound good to you. Instead you try and make yourself as comfortable as you can on the quilt spread over the grass—which probably isn’t the best idea but your allergies can’t possibly get any worse, plus you’re already down and your eyes are closed and the grass is so soft beneath the blanket and you find yourself drifting off.

You don’t know how long you’re out for when a sudden shift right beside you has your eyes snapping open to find Jungkook’s looking back at you.

“Hi,” he says cheerily and you can’t help but give him a sleepy smile in response.

“You win this time?”

“Of course,” he says and flips over onto his stomach, flopping back down with a grunt. “RM-hyung wasn’t on my team this time.” Then he peers up at you from beneath his dark bangs. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so cruddy.”

“It’s okay,” you say closing your eyes with a sigh. “It’s what I get for being so forgetful this morning.”

“Do you need me to drive you to the store to get some stuff?”

Your eyes pop back open and you stare at the boy. Why didn’t you think of that? It’s not like you’re fifty miles from civilization. In fact, you passed a convenience store probably twenty minutes away. You let out a groan. “I’m an idiot,” you utter and bring your hand up to your forehead.

Jungkook gets up with a laugh. “It happens to the best of us,” he says then reaches down to offer you his hand.

You take it and let him pull you to your feet but he doesn’t let go once you’re up. In fact, you notice his fingers clasp tighter around yours a bit as you walk toward the van.

“So, Hoseok said something interesting when we got here earlier,” you say.

Jungkook reaches out and pulls on the door handle, opening the door so you can climb in. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “And what’s that?”

Suddenly, you feel a tickle way up in your nasal passage and before you can stop yourself, a string of violent sneezes rattles through you, your hands coming up to catch anything that may otherwise fly out of your nose. By the time you’re done, tears are streaming from your eyes and your palms are wet with what you can only assume is the grossest smattering of snot and you lift your head slowly to meet Jungkook’s eyes. He just gawks back at you in silence.

“Uh…maybe tell me once we get you that medication,” he says finally.

You just nod, your hands still cupped over your nose and mouth and you climb into the passenger seat. As Jungkook makes his way around the front to the drivers seat, you search frantically for anything to wipe your nose and hands on and when he reaches the other side and opens the door, he smiles amusedly as you stare back at him with a crumpled wad of fast food napkins pressed against your face.

120 notes · View notes

karl-jenkins · 5 years

Text

Things I love about: Jordan Bamford as Scorpius Malfoy

Jordan is the first cover Scorpius for London cast 3 and I’ve been lucky enough to see him seven times. He has become my favourite Scorpius and brought so many delightful touches and facets to Scorpius that have made me love him as a character even more. The keywords that come to mind when I think of Jordan as Scorpius are: endearing, excitable, sweet and brave.

- From the moment Albus meets Scorpius on the train, you love him instantly. His voice is soft and sweet, he is socially awkward in the most endearing way. He shakes Albus’ hand a bit too enthusiastically for a little too long, you can definitely see that he hasn’t been around children his own age very much and desperately wants to make friends. When he says he’d rather be a Malfoy than “the son of the Dark Lord” he growls and holds his hands like claws. He is just so likeable and the definition of “adorkable”.

- During the flying class scene he is utterly delighted when his broomstick rises until he notices Albus’ is still on the ground. He forgets his own triumph immediately and moves to Albus’ side to reassure him and tell him not to listen to the teasing from the other kids. Right from the start he is a loyal, supportive friend.

- The scene in which he tells Albus that Astoria’s illness has got “the worst it could possibly get” is heartbreaking. He is so quiet and subdued, and his voice breaks as he wipes away tears, he can’t even look at Albus until he asks him to come to the funeral. He blurts this out as if worried that Albus will say no. Joe works perfectly with him in this scene, his Albus is so sincere and supportive and desperately wants to do anything that will help his friend.

- On the Hogwarts Express when Albus asks about the Triwizard tournament, he’s so excited to be able to share his knowledge. When called a geek he gasps and gushes “I thank you” as if it’s the best compliment he’s ever received. When Albus wants to climb up onto the train roof, he tries to stop him by sitting down on the trunks to block his way up. Once Albus pulls him away and climbs up, he is so frustrated that he stamps his feet and shakes his fists as if he can’t quite believe what Albus is getting them into, but he still knows he will follow because he’s his best friend, however frustrating, and he won’t let him do it alone.

- When the trolley witch spikes extend, Jordan shuffles right back into Albus’ lap in fear. Joe wraps his arms around him, Jordan holds his hands in front of his chest and they cling onto each other for dear life. This is one of the many times we see that Scorpius’ instinct when he is sad or scared is to go to Albus for comfort and physical reassurance.

- In St. Oswald’s, Scorpius is so out of his comfort zone. He doesn’t quite know where to look, everything makes him jump. Once again, he goes to Albus for reassurance, holding onto his arm and staying as close to his side as possible. When Amos takes his wand out, he says “come on mate” with his arms fully wrapped around Albus as he tries to drag him away, out of danger.

- When Albus and Delphi are practicing Expelliarmus, he looks so sad and conflicted as he watches on from the background. He likes to see Albus looking happy but he’s also feeling a little jealous and left out. After Delphi kisses Albus and then turns to leave, he fumbles with his Durmstrang robes, dropping them and having to quickly catch them and bundle them back up in his arms. As Delphi comes near, he offers her his cheek as if expecting a kiss too which she obviously ignores. He is so awkward around her and gets flustered and you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for him. But, it really makes you feel for him and love him all the more.

- He’s so funny in the dragon task scene. He speaks to Albus and gestures with his hands as if he’s trying to plan what he will say. This turns out to be “Krum, Krum, you’re the one!” when Krum’s name is announced as Durmstrang Champion.

- His library scene is so intense. He’s usually so sweet and softly spoken that the sudden rush of anger is such a shock and has given me goosebumps every time. When he’d say “so Sad” he would get this hard, sarcastic edge to his voice and sounded completely different to his usual self. He would get right up in Albus’ face, to the point that sometimes Joe would back away from him fearfully. When he talked about Astoria still being dead in this new alternate reality I’ve seen him do it a couple of different ways – either so sad that his voice breaks or so angry that he can’t contain himself. I’ve seen him slam his hand down on the table and throw the time turner bag down onto it in his frustration. After he’s got everything off his chest, he clutches his hands over his face and just cries which I read as him being overwhelmed by his mixed feelings of anger, sadness and relief that his pent-up frustration has finally been aired. Also, as he usually goes to Albus for physical reassurance, but he can’t do that when it’s Albus that has caused him pain, he ends up clinging onto himself like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

- In Myrtle’s bathroom, he is so proud of himself for the “engorgimpressed” line. When Myrtle leans close to him to say that she likes brave boys, he leans so far back in surprise that it looks like he might fall back out of the sink.

- After he emerges from the lake and the dementors appear, his instinct is to cover his mouth. He’s just found himself in a completely different world to the one he expected; his best friend doesn’t exist, the darkest wizard in history is alive and he’s all alone and yet he keeps his head enough to cover his mouth when he sees a Dementor. For me, this self-preservation instinct is so very Slytherin and gives a good insight into how well he’ll be able to blend in and survive in this world.

- In the dark AU with Draco in the Head of Magical Law Enforcement office what struck me was that he is so brave. After his initial shock to find his dad there and that his dad insists on being called sir, he becomes furious that his dad might be involved in killing muggles. He gets right up close to Draco, shouting and pointing in his face, incredibly brave considering this is not his Draco and this world could hold serious consequences for him. I’ve always found the fact that Scorpius only does the full Voldemort and Valour for Draco meaningful, but I’ve seen Jordan do it very slowly, full of significance which made that moment even more memorable for me by really highlighting the fact that that’s the only time he does it properly. On Sunday (12th May 2019), after leaving Draco’s office, he clutched his hands over his face and burst into tears, like he did after the library argument with Albus. Again, he doesn’t know what to do with all his conflicting feelings and Albus isn’t there to support and help him.

- When he arrives in the library, he is frantic and desperate, feverishly searching for answers so that he can try to find out why this version of events came to be and how he can try to fix it. Scorpius is so sweet and endearing, it’s almost impossible to imagine him as the Scorpion King. Seeing Craig cower away from him is especially jarring when you’re so enchanted by this sweet boy.

- When he asks Snape if he’s undercover now, he realises what he’s said and claps his hands over his mouth as if he wishes he could force the words back in. Snape feels like the answer to his problems and for a second he’s so excited that he gets a bit carried away and thinks before he speaks before remembering what a dangerous situation he’s in.

- His lake scene is so funny that he’s got applause every time I’ve seen it. His voice becomes screechy with excitement, he loses all his composure in his pure delight. When he sees Harry, he screams, high pitched and unable to contain his excitement and relief to see him again. When he sees Draco and says, “and Dad,” he suddenly becomes much more composed – he seems slightly embarrassed, aware that he’s made a scene and Malfoys are not supposed to make a scene. But the way he says “my dad” is so sweet and meaningful; he’s so relieved to be back with the dad he knows and loves rather than the Head of Magical Law Enforcement who is complicit in such atrocities.

- The scene in the dormitory is so funny. When he tries to wake Albus up, he leans out of his bed and nearly falls, having to put a hand out to catch himself. He is utterly giddy in this scene, so delighted to be back with his best friend, everything right with the world once again. For the “time to make time turning a thing of the past” line, he grabs Albus by the arm and pulls him over and delivers the line with their arms linked.

- In the owlery, when Albus says it felt important to send an owl, Jordan mouthed “why?”. Another little moment of Scorpius’ jealousy; he’s got his best friend back and he wants him all to himself.

- On the Quidditch Pitch, he is just so brave, strong and resilient. He stands steadfast despite being tortured. When Delphi pulls them over to turn time back to the maze task, he can’t stop looking at Craig’s body in disbelief.

- The maze is another scene in which he is just so brave. He’s already been tortured, knows she’ll do it again, that she would eventually kill him. But he won’t give up, his voice is hard and determined when he tells her they can defy her. For the Crucio while he’s on the ground, he does a sort of shoulder stand and throws his legs up in the air. He looks a bit like a ragdoll being thrown around and I don’t know how he does it, but it is very effective.

- In Godric’s Hollow, he is so excited to see Bathilda that he actually yells “SQUEAK!” in this squeaky excited voice. He’s giddy with pure nerdy delight and it’s absolutely adorable.

- The hug with Draco in Godric’s Hollow is so heart-warming. Jordan’s Scorpius throws himself into Draco’s arms with such enthusiasm that both feet leave the ground and there is a chorus of “aww”s from the audience, sometimes even cheering and applause. It is a beautiful moment, one that is clearly so important to them both. After the hug, Draco keeps a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder, now they are back together, he doesn’t want to lose him again and wants to be able to feel his presence and believe that he really is there. Jordan holds onto his arm and cuddles in against Draco’s shoulder. It is a beautiful thing to witness between them and gives me so much hope for the future of their relationship.

- On their final staircase scene, Scorpius is once again giddy with excitement, his squeaky screech of excitement coming out once again. He really thinks that Rose’s “Scorpion King” is a triumph and sinks contentedly back onto the stairs, fists raised in celebration. When Albus sits down on the stairs, Jordan sits on the next step down and Joe would rest his head on Jordan’s shoulder then Jordan would rest his head on top of Joe’s. It is such a sweet moment. When he leaves to go to Quidditch, he walks most of the way turning back to look at Albus, who stands on the stairs watching him leaves. Their eyes are locked until the last second, when Scorpius waves and finally turns away to leave. It felt like the perfect way to say goodbye to Scorpius.

Jordan has been an asset to the London company and a truly spectacular Scorpius. He is my favourite Scorpius and I will miss him greatly, but I am so grateful to have had seven shows in which to experience his sweet, soft, excitable, brave, funny, geeky and so damn lovable interpretation of Scorpius. His chemistry was Joe was perfect, they portrayed a Scorbus friendship that felt balanced and natural, they were jokey and tactile with each other and their friendship felt so real and like it had so much potential to blossom into more. It was truly a treat to watch them together.

#things i love about #jordan bamford #scorpius malfoy #thoughts and observations #ccsquad #understudy love club #first cover #cast 3 #cursed child london #i've been so nervous about posting this one #i just want to do him justice #there's probably more things that i've forgotten #sorry this is so long

29 notes · View notes

whisker-biscuit · 6 years

Text

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 5

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Chapter 5: Masquerades

The trek from Black Hat’s cell to Flug’s office usually took four minutes, give or take. The psychiatrist didn’t know if his panic attack would wait that long.

“Dr. Slys, wait! Why are you walking so fast?” Dr. Bautista hurried after him, hard-pressed to keep up even with his height advantage. “Please, Doctor, we should review our notes, slow down!”

He refused to slow down, refused to even look at his colleague until they were stuck together in the elevator. Flug almost considered taking the stairs, but his office was on the first floor and he didn’t want to have a breakdown in an echoing stairway where people could hear. Even so, stepping into the lift with this man was a true test of patience.

“Jesus, Doctor, what’s the hurry? We got what we wanted, the schedule’s made, everything’s fine.” Bautista watched, bemused, as his distraught colleague pounded at the buttons. “I don’t understand what your problem is.”

“Oh, my problem? My problem?” Flug snarled at the control panel in lieu of his frustrating companion. “My problem, Doctor, is that a d-dangerous, volatile patient learned my full name when I didn’t want him to. A p-patient, who, if I may I remind you, has only ever been incarcerated for less than a week and who ruined the life of his last psychiatrist.” He slumped against the metal wall as the elevator dropped, clamping his hands against his bag and pulling hard. “And he’s already tried to kill me once yesterday. Who’s to say he won’t try again?”

Dr. Bautista waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t worry so much, Doctor. That’s why we’re being careful, so you’re not alone with him anymore. He can’t try anything here.”

“Yeah, ‘here’ being the keyword.” Flug took his clipboard from under his arm and flipped hurriedly to a page full of Black Hat’s crimes. “See this? See how many people he’s killed? That’s only the documented ones, they suspect a whole lot more, you know!” The lift dinged open and the doctor slipped out. Bautista followed him. “Who’s to say he won’t come after me if he escapes, when he escapes, whatever!”

“I really think you’re overreacting,” was the grumbled reply. “This place has never seen a successful break-out, and most inmates hold grudges for officers, not psychologists. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t given your first name to patients before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything, and I don’t gamble.” The yellow gloves were stretched up to Flug’s elbows and he didn’t stop walking when they reached Bautista’s office first. “I’ll email you my notes so you can look over them, but I need to get ready for a counseling session. Thanks for joining me.”

“Oh hey, wait a second,” Bautista called out after him, causing the doctor to hesitate. “You’re going to visit Patient 243, right? Would you be willing to take Martin Naaji with you, for work experience? He’s my intern.”

“Uh…Martin, curly black hair, short, darker skin?”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s pretty new so I had him help the nurses out with dispensing medication two days ago, but I heard it didn’t go so well.” Bautista shrugged. “Personally I think the kid’s a lost cause, but he’s here for another two months and I’m trying to find things for him to do.”

Well, that explains a lot, Flug scowled under his bag. “Sure, sure, just tell him to be at my door by 10:50 sharp. If he doesn’t show then that’s not my fault.”

“Will do, Doctor.” His colleague whistled obliviously as he disappeared into his room, and Flug seriously considered putting in a request for a different companion. He decided against it by the time he got back to his office. The man was of a much larger build than him and every bit of muscle would help, regardless of his lack of subtlety.

He stepped inside his personal space, locked his door, and promptly lost his cool.

Less than an hour later, when Martin knocked on his door at 10:49, Flug had reorganized every book on his shelf by publication date instead of the author title as it was previously, wiped down all hardwood surfaces with Clorox as well as the doorknob, cleaned the little window view of the parking lot, and systematically cut perfect, symmetrical goggle holes through fifteen spare paper bags, just in case.

He had been prepared for the intrusion but his jittery energy had yet to fully dissipate and the knock nearly made him fall out of his chair with a yelp. He hurried to correct himself and brushed off his lab coat, folding his hands formally in front of him.

“Come in!”

The knob turned only a quarter of a fraction before it forcefully stopped, and Flug remembered a little too late that he had indeed locked the door.

With a stumble and a quiet “dang it” the psychiatrist scooted around his desk and reached the door in four long strides. He opened it in a flurry and came face to face with the same wide eyes he had scolded two days ago.

“Um.” Martin took a cautious step back. “Hello.”

“H-Hello.” The doctor attempted to look a little more professional by putting his hands in his coat pockets. It didn’t really work. “So, uh…hello.”

The intern looked at the ground, nervous. “Um, so are we going or…?”

“Oh! Yes, I,” Flug turned and rushed back to his desk, scooping up Dementia’s case file and his notepad. He brushed past the teenager and closed the door. “Sorry, sorry, I’m uh, just let me lock the door real quick and we can go.”

“Okay,” Martin had his feet against each other, swaying a little. He tensed to attention when the psychiatrist started down the hall and followed meekly behind. “So…is this okay?

“What do you mean?” Flug tried not to touch his bag as they walked.

“It’s just…isn’t there patient confidentiality?”

“Oh. Well, yes, but we asked Dementia if she’d give disclosure to let interns sit in on her counseling session or review the notes we share for experience, and she agreed. You, ah.” He squinted sideways at the teenager. “You’re the first one who was willing. For her case.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, I was assigned to this by my superior. But that’s cool, I guess.” They shared the ride up to Floor 5 in awkward, heavy silence. When the doors opened again, Flug stepped out and touched Martin’s shoulder to stop him.

“Listen, I, uh, we met under…unfortunate circumstances t-two days ago and I – I don’t regret what I said, I meant every word of that, but, it’s a new day and I don’t…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. The intern stared just under his line of sight, nervous. “Okay, um, what I mean to say is, I’d rather we don’t think of that, encounter, while we’re here together. I know you don’t want to be here with me, and that’s – that’s fine if you don’t like me at all, it’s, I don’t care. But please try to relax when we visit Dementia.”

Martin made real eye contact and his mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, um…okay. I can do that.”

“Good, c-cause she gets wound up really easily when other people are tense and it’s hard to tell sometimes, I mean, sometimes she tries to exploit that and sometimes it makes her wary and withdrawn and I, I really don’t want to have to deal with that, so – ”

“No, I get it.” The intern’s gaze dropped resignedly. “I’ll wait outside her room, if that makes you happier.” He shuffled away from his superior and tightened his lips together.

“Ah no, you don’t need to…actually, that might be a good idea for you to stay away.” Flug winced internally at the way that came out. “I mean, uh, maybe I’ll talk to her first, let her know you want to join us. We’ll see how it turns out.”

“Sure.” Martin didn’t pick his gaze back up as they made their way to Dementia’s cell. The doctor peered through the bars and didn’t see anyone inside. He leaned forward right at the same moment a maniacal, screaming face popped up in front of the window.

“HEY FLUG!!”

“Gah!” The poor psychiatrist reeled backward and nearly crashed into the spooked intern behind him. He recovered fairly quickly and threw his hands in the air. “Dementia! What have I told you about doing that?!”

“Not to do it,” the girl cackled, tongue poking playfully through her teeth.

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms.

“Because of the noise you make.”

Flug pressed the top of the clipboard against his face, exasperated and exhausted. It wasn’t even noon yet. “Okay, that’s wonderful, really great to know that’s what you value about me.”

“Aww Flug, I’m just teasing, you know I love –” Dementia froze with the ‘you’ forming in her lips as she locked eyes with Martin, just past her doctor. Her playful demeanor drained to something very, very cold. “The hell is he doing here?”

“He’s here to –”

“What the hell are you doing here, Newbie?! Who do you think you are?!” She screamed at him, whole body pressed rigid against the door with a slam. “Wanna try me again, huh! Wanna grab hold of my mouth again, I bet that gets you off real good, you sick fuck!”

“Dementia! He’s not going to do anything!” Flug took one look back at Martin, who had plastered himself against the opposite wall, shameful and scared. The doctor put his head in front of the frothing girl, blocking her view of everything except his bag. “Calm down, please!”

“Why is he here, Flug? What is he doing here?!”

“He’s here to apologize, that’s what he’s here for, calm down!” They faced each other, her nose practically touching the paper on his face. “I’m not going to let him try anything, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Her eyes trembled like furious candlelight. “You promise?”

“I do, I promise.”

“¡Júrame!” It was a snarl, a desperate command.

“Te lo juro, te lo juro.” Flug lifted his goggles just barely, so she could see his sincere, serious brown eyes beneath. “Nadie puede herirte aquí.”

“Better stick to that,” she spat out, irritated but backing down. The girl stepped back from the window and took several angry steps to her bed, where she sat and glared at him. The doctor adjusted his glass-wear back into place over his eyes before turning around. Martin remained at the wall, face open and agitated.

“Listen, uh, I think it might be best if you stay, um by the door for a while, while I talk to her. Don’t, ah, don’t let her see you through the window, please.”

The intern nodded, lips twitching together, and came over slowly. With prompting he sat down next to the cell door, eyes downcast, and Flug patted his shoulder in awkward sympathy before unlocking the room and stepping inside. He closed it behind him and glanced over to the angry, pouting girl who was now staring at a far point on the wall.

So, uh…” The doctor sidled up about a meter from her mattress and settled down onto crossed legs cautiously. “Having nightmares recently?”

“What makes you say that,” she mumbled, refusing to look his way.

“Well, when the incident actually happened, you seemed a lot calmer about it afterwards than you are today.” Flug tapped fingers against his thigh. “So I’m guessing the last few nights have been rough.”

“Pff, what do you know.” Dementia leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling now. They remained silent for a minute before she had the courage to speak up again. “I dunno, I just…it’s hard sometimes. Dreams are hard sometimes. Cause I can’t do anything about them. Can’t control them.” She laughed, short and self-deprecating. “Not like I can control much else about me anyway.”

“Anything, anything noteworthy? Or that you want to work through? Get off your chest?”

“Nah, just same-old, same-old.” The girl nuzzled her chin into the collar of her straitjacket. “That stupid intern showed up in one, but it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t,” her eyes darted briefly in Flug’s direction and darted away. “He didn’t really do anything. In the dream. Was just there in the background.”

The doctor bobbed his head, quiet and respectful. They lapsed into silence again until she flipped over to lay on her back, head half hanging upside down off her bed in his direction. “Hey, Flug?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever get bad dreams?”

“Oh, all the time,” he looked at her. “Being a psychiatrist is stressful, you know. Especially here.”

“No, I mean…” Dementia blew stray bangs out of her face to give him a serious stare. “I mean about before here. Back when, when it wasn’t as safe.”

Flug opened his mouth to respond truthfully, but stopped himself and gave a nervous glance towards the door. He didn’t know how much could be heard out there, and he really didn’t want Martin – or any staff, really – to know things he wouldn’t normally share.

Dementia seemed to understand why he hesitated, because she wriggled closer until her back was on the ground and her legs trailed up and over the mattress. Her head was right next to his crossed knee, curious eyes watching him attentively.

“Well, I don’t know about this place being that safe for me,” Flug offered, pitching his voice a little quieter. “But yeah, before all this it was…really hard sometimes. I had a, a lot going on that I’m not super proud of, that I don’t want to get into for,” he glanced at the door again. “For personal reasons.”

The girl nodded sagely, in understanding brought only by experience, and he continued.

“And it’s not as bad as it used to be, the nightmares I mean. Sometimes they sneak up on me, and sometimes it’s hard not to think about, those times.” He reached up and lightly trailed a line down the cheek of his bag. “But I just have to remind myself that there’s a today, and a tomorrow, and they don’t have to be related to what happened yesterday, or last week, or whatever. I know it’s really cliché to say time is a good healer, but it is a good starting point, at least for me. Does that make sense?”

Dementia turned her head slowly, face searching somewhere beyond him. “I think so, yeah.” She locked eyes with him. “So why do you wear your bag? Is it related to the bad stuff?”

“Well, the bag isn’t really related, per se, but I don’t think I should answer that.” Flug looked down at her, at the sad, reserved expression she wore only when things were starting to be too much. He was very familiar with that look himself. “You’ve asked me about it before, way back when. I will tell you someday, I promise, but right now I don’t think I have the courage.”

“The courage to show me?”

“The courage to remind myself.”

“Oh.” Dementia worked those words over in her mind, and a small, crooked smile quirked up one side of her face. “Well, I better be the first one when you do. It’s only fair, after everything I’ve told you.”

“Trust me, Dementia, if I ever get that brave, you will probably be the only person I show it to.” He took a moment to move his lab coat to a better position across his shoulders, then looked at his mostly-forgotten clipboard. “I had an outline for our session today, but I don’t think we’re really going to follow it. What do you want to do?”

“Mm…” She bit her lip and looked at the door. Something distantly related to pity appeared in her face. “If I didn’t scare the newbie away, maybe…maybe I’ll listen to his apology.” The girl glared up at her doctor good-naturedly. “Doesn’t mean I’ll accept it! Just wanna hear him grovel.”

“Oh absolutely.” Flug stood up and brushed the wrinkles from his pants. He strode over to the door and waited until Dementia sat up and gave him a verbal confirmation to open it. As the doctor stuck his head out, he saw Martin slumped against the wall with his head in his arms between his knees.

The intern lifted his head when the psychiatrist cleared his throat. “Do you…does she want me to leave?”

“No, she’s willing to talk to you.” Flug offered a hand up, which the teen took. “But I want you to stay at least five meters away from her, hands by your sides at all times, and the first words out of your mouth need to be an apology. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Martin agreed hastily, rubbing his arms as if chilled. He ducked inside the room behind the doctor like a wraith. The inmate and the intern made eye contact, and a rambling burst of energy spilled out of the teen’s lips.

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, I shouldn’t have tried to force you to do anything! And I shouldn’t have touched you that was unprofessional and wrong and I, it…” he ducked into himself, embarrassed with both gazes on him. “I’m…I really hurt you, didn’t I?”

Dementia snorted. “Takes a lot more than a sissy-boy to hurt me, Chiquito, but it’s something.” She stood and ventured closer, keeping Flug between them like a buffer. “Martin, is it? You’re kinda scrawny. Are you sure you’re cut out for this job?”

“Um,” the intern looked to his superior for help, but the psychiatrist was trying not to laugh. She had said almost the same thing to him months ago. “I don’t…thank you? I can manage.”

“I sure hope so, kid, cause I’m one of the nicer ones.” She shook her head and long hair spiraled out around her. Flug rolled his eyes.

“Funny, I thought you were one of the tough ones.”

“I’m both, you dense doctor, I’m well-rounded.” Dementia shimmied in place, pretending to pose like a model. It was quite the sight with her attire. “Anyway, I’m bored now, so either pick a spot and pop a squat or get the hell out of my room. I’m not wasting any more time in my appointment with the only reliable guy here.”

Martin sat where he was, startled, and at his quizzical look the girl smiled like a shark and dove onto her bed. “You think I don’t know what interns do? I’m just surprised you didn’t bring a notebook, you’re not very prepared.” She scooted her feet up and propped her chin on her knees. “Flug, get your butt over here, you’re the one getting paid for this.”

A little under an hour and a half later, the two employees stepped out as Dementia smacked her feet together in lieu of clapping. “Bye Flug! See you soon! Bye Martin Maje! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

Martin waved half-heartedly as the doctor locked the cell, then whispered quickly, “What does ‘maje’ mean?”

“Ehhh, don’t worry about it.” Flug adjusted his bag and shrugged one shoulder, fidgeting uncomfortably. “She gives, um, nicknames to people sometimes. Don’t take it personally, it means she likes you.”

“O-Okay,” the intern looked confused but dropped it. “So, now what? Do we go over the session? Do I tell you what I think? What’s next?”

“…You don’t know what comes next?” The psychiatrist was baffled by this.

“Well I haven’t, been here very long and Dr. Bautista…” Martin looked at the window of Dementia’s door. “He doesn’t really give me much to go on. Just, ‘go help this person with this’ or ‘go ask the nurses for something to do’. I haven’t done much, really.”

“Oh.” Oh indeed. Flug was really starting to regret accepting his offer to help with the other case. “Well, I’ll talk to him, maybe work out a more concrete schedule. How’s that?”

The intern’s face lifted just a little, then fell. “Ah, thanks but um, I don’t want to get in your way. Especially not after I screwed up with your patient.”

“I’m just glad she accepted your apology,” the doctor said bluntly. “And I’m not going to lie, I’m still upset about that. But we really need all the help we can get here and I’d rather you know what you’re doing than…whatever you’ve been doing the last few days…week? How long have you been here?”

“Six days.”

“Ah, okay. Yeah. That’s, that’s it then.” They started working their way down the hall and Flug continued. “I might just let Dr. Rorschach know you need stuff to do, she’ll probably be better to help than me. Not that – not that I don’t care I just, have a lot on my plate right now.”

The poor psychiatrist had a sixth sense for bad timing, he’d swear up and down, because at that moment there was a distinct hair-raising, ear-splitting shriek from the other end of the hall that was all too familiar. Flug made a pained expression as Martin whipped around in that direction.

“What – what was that?!”

“That would be one of my patients.” He handed his clipboard to the shocked intern and pushed him towards the elevator. “You go ahead back to my office and look over my notes. Get a pad and write down questions or thoughts, save it to show me later. I uh, I need to take care of this.”

“Oh, do you, do you want help or –”

“No! No no no, I appreciate it but please no!” Flug shook his head frantically, not wanting to imagine bringing this inexperienced kid anywhere near Black Hat. “Just, j-just go back downstairs, please, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Um, alright,” Martin complied and started walking reluctantly, and the doctor waited until he was safely in the elevator before putting his hands to his face and moving to the opposite end. There was another shriek and he grimaced.

The lights above the reinforced cells were dimmer than Flug remembered them being just that morning. He stopped carefully in front of the sole occupied room and peeped inside discreetly. Black Hat was there in the other side of his padded prison, kicking angrily at his mattress and straining hard against his straitjacket. His collar blinked but didn’t make a sound.

“Um, Mr. Black Hat?”

The inmate went still in his movements and cracked his head around in a near one-eighty. His face, contorted in rage, restrained itself to a neutral, unreadable position.

“Doctor Flug. To what do I owe the displeasure?” His body turned to match his head, and the psychiatrist winced at the noise it made. “I was under the impression we wouldn’t see each other until the date set tomorrow.”

“Oh, w-well, I happened to b-be here and you…” Flug looked at the abused bed. “Uh, I heard a y-yell, and I was j-just checking in.”

Black Hat’s mouth gave a spasm, but whether in the direction of a smile or a frown it was hard to tell. “I see. Well, I will take more care to keep my grievances to myself, until I feel the need to share them.”

“Good, that’s…good. Is there, uh,” he swallowed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“What I need is not something you’d provide, Doctor.” His patient was settling down a little, at least in energy. He was no longer as rigid. “I highly doubt you’d be willing to entertain my possession of an alternative set of clothing. This one is quite, restrictive.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” Flug mumbled before he could catch himself. He jolted when his brain caught up and put his hands to his mouth, horrified. “I mean, I d-didn’t mean to say that, I –”

“Oh it’s quite alright, Doctor Flug, I prefer honesty.” Black Hat looked vaguely amused again. He stepped closer to the door and the doctor pushed down the urge to take a matching step away. “Which reminds me; you were not very truthful about your identity. Refusing to share your full name? Tut, tut. Rather deceiving, Flug.”

Every use of his first name sent a shiver up his back. “I r-really wasn’t being untruthful, Mr. B-Black Hat. Just evading a f-full answer.”

“I suppose I cannot dispute that,” There was another step. “But now that it’s out in the open, I have to say it’s been intriguing me. It is an abnormal name, after all. Were your parents aware of its meaning?”

Flug clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t letting anything else get past him. His inmate stepped forward some more, only a meter or so from the door.

“Is it a birth name? A changed name? An alias, perhaps?” Step, step. Black Hat was at the window now, hot breath curling out and under the paper bag. The doctor clenched his hands into his coat to keep the flinch from escaping. “Oh come now, Flug. Surely you can’t expect me to believe there are no curious circumstances. Flug Slys is too much of a word to be a name.”

Flug took a loud, slow inhale. “You could say the same thing about Black Hat.”

“Ah, true,” the patient’s mouth curled like the Grinch, “but I use that name for stage and show, something you pitiful humans can wrap your heads around. I highly doubt your situation is similar.”

“Well, m-maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” His knuckles were white. “But that’s as much as y-you need to know. I’m not – I’m not going to l-let anything else be c-compromised.” He squared himself, trying to look braver than he felt. “Got that?”

They were very close now, face to face just as he had been with Dementia. But there was a different kind of test here, an alternate set of rules. Flug had to learn them before he fell behind, because he had the distinct sense that losing was not an option.

Black Hat’s one visible eye was half-lidded lazily, but through the illusion the doctor could see his pupil searching, studying, sifting into everything he had foolishly allowed to be seen. The smile turned to a grin deliberately sluggish, and the inmate made a noise deep in his throat. It could have been mistaken for a purr if one was suicidal enough.

“Yes, Doctor Flug, I understand very well. You are a man of mystery, keeping your secrets close and your half-truths even closer.” A forked tongue could be seen only briefly behind the deadly teeth. “It will be fun prying every single one from your trembling, broken hands.”

Flug’s hands were so tightly curled in his coat he could feel nails pressing into his palm through the gloves and the fabric. “That’s f-fine, Black Hat, but I h-hope you realize that it’s a t-two way street.”

“Oh I’ve no doubt about that,” the patient backed away from the bars. “But if I recall that will not begin until tomorrow. Official appointments and all that.”

He turned away and only then did Flug release his lab coat from his death grip, taking a few shaky steps of his own, putting distance between himself and the door. He shook as he shuffled away, fiddling with the crumpled ends of his mistreated coat. Behind him, Black Hat cleared his throat.

“Until next time, dear doctor. Ta.”

And so for the third time in two days Flug left that room, shaking and quiet and traitorously, treacherously excited.

Longest chapter so far! Hope you like it!

#villainous #villainous au #asylum au #dr. flug #black hat #demencia #paperhat

100 notes · View notes

wickedbananas · 6 years

Text

Using the Flowchart Method for Diagnosing Ranking Drops - Whiteboard Friday

Posted by KameronJenkins

Being able to pinpoint the reason for a ranking drop is one of our most perennial and potentially frustrating tasks as SEOs. There are an unknowable number of factors that go into ranking these days, but luckily the methodology for diagnosing those fluctuations is readily at hand. In today's Whiteboard Friday, we welcome the wonderful Kameron Jenkins to show us a structured way to diagnose ranking drops using a flowchart method and critical thinking.

Click on the whiteboard image above to open a high-resolution version in a new tab!

Video Transcription

Hey, everyone. Welcome to this week's edition of Whiteboard Friday. My name is Kameron Jenkins. I am the new SEO Wordsmith here at Moz, and I'm so excited to be here. Before this, I worked at an agency for about six and a half years. I worked in the SEO department, and really a common thing we encountered was a client's rankings dropped. What do we do?

This flowchart was kind of built out of that mentality of we need a logical workflow to be able to diagnose exactly what happened so we can make really pointed recommendations for how to fix it, how to get our client's rankings back. So let's dive right in. It's going to be a flowchart, so it's a little nonlinear, but hopefully this makes sense and helps you work smarter rather than harder.

Was it a major ranking drop?: No

The first question I'd want to ask is: Was their rankings drop major? By major, I would say that's something like page 1 to page 5 overnight. Minor would be something like it just fell a couple positions, like position 3 to position 5.

We're going to take this path first. It was minor.

Has there been a pattern of decline lasting about a month or greater?

That's not a magic number. A month is something that you can use as a benchmark. But if there's been a steady decline and it's been one week it's position 3 and then it's position 5 and then position 7, and it just keeps dropping over time, I would consider that a pattern of decline.

So if no, I would actually say wait.

Volatility is normal, especially if you're at the bottom of page 1, maybe page 2 plus. There's going to be a lot more shifting of the search results in those positions. So volatility is normal.

Keep your eyes on it, though. It's really good to just take note of it like, "Hey, we dropped. Okay, I'm going to check that again next week and see if it continues to drop, then maybe we'll take action."

Wait it out. At this point, I would just caution against making big website updates if it hasn't really been warranted yet. So volatility is normal. Expect that. Keep your finger on the pulse, but just wait it out at this point.

If there has been a pattern of decline though, I'm going to have you jump to the algorithm update section. We're going to get there in a second. But for now, we're going to go take the major rankings drop path.

Was it a major ranking drop?: Yes

The first question on this path that I'd want to ask is:

Was there a rank tracking issue?

Now, some of these are going seem pretty basic, like how would that ever happen, but believe me it happens every once in a while. So just before we make major updates to the website, I'd want to check the rank tracking.

I. The wrong domain or URL.

That can be something that happens a lot. A site maybe you change domains or maybe you move a page and that old page of that old domain is still listed in your ranking tracker. If that's the case, then the rank tracking tool doesn't know which URL to judge the rankings off of. So it's going to look like maybe you dropped to position 10 overnight from position 1, and that's like, whoa, that's a huge update. But it's actually just that you have the wrong URL in there. So just check that. If there's been a page update, a domain update, check to make sure that you've updated your rank tracker.

II. Glitches.

So it's software, it can break. There are things that could cause it to be off for whatever reason. I don't know how common that is. It probably is totally dependent on which kind of software you use. But glitches do happen, so I would manually check your rankings.

III. Manually check rankings.

One way I would do that is...

Go to incognito in Google and make sure you're logged out so it's not personalized. I would search the term that you're wanting to rank for and see where you're actually ranking.

Google's Ad Preview tool. That one is really good too if you want to search where you're ranking locally so you can set your geolocation. You could do mobile versus desktop rankings. So it could be really good for things like that.

Crosscheck with another tool, like Moz's tool for rank tracking. You can pop in your URLs, see where you're ranking, and cross-check that with your own tool.

So back to this. Rank tracking issues. Yes, you found your problem. If it was just a rank tracking tool issue, that's actually great, because it means you don't have to make a lot of changes. Your rankings actually haven't dropped. But if that's not the issue, if there is no rank tracking issue that you can pinpoint, then I would move on to Google Search Console.

Problems in Google Search Console?

So Google Search Console is really helpful for checking site health matters. One of the main things I would want to check in there, if you experience a major drop especially, is...

I. Manual actions.

If you navigate to Manual Actions, you could see notes in there like unnatural links pointing to your site. Or maybe you have thin or low-quality content on your site. If those things are present in your Manual Actions, then you have a reference point. You have something to go off of. There's a lot of work involved in lifting a manual penalty that we can't get into here unfortunately. Some things that you can do to focus on manual penalty lifting...

Moz's Link Explorer. You can check your inbound links and see their spam score. You could look at things like anchor text to see if maybe the links pointing to your site are keyword stuffed. So you can use tools like that.

There are a lot of good articles too, in the industry, just on getting penalties lifted. Marie Haynes especially has some really good ones. So I would check that out.

But you have found your problem if there's a manual action in there. So focus on getting that penalty lifted.

II. Indexation issues.

Before you move out of Search Console, though, I would check indexation issues as well. Maybe you don't have a manual penalty. But go to your index coverage report and you can see if anything you submitted in your sitemap is maybe experiencing issues. Maybe it's blocked by robots.txt, or maybe you accidentally no indexed it. You could probably see that in the index coverage report. Search Console, okay. So yes, you found your problem. No, you're going to move on to algorithm updates.

Algorithm updates

Algorithm updates happen all the time. Google says that maybe one to two happen per day. Not all of those are going to be major. The major ones, though, are listed. They're documented in multiple different places. Moz has a really good list of algorithm updates over time. You can for sure reference that. There are going to be a lot of good ones. You can navigate to the exact year and month that your site experienced a rankings drop and see if it maybe correlates with any algorithm update.

For example, say your site lost rankings in about January 2017. That's about the time that Google released its Intrusive Interstitials Update, and so I would look on my site, if that was the issue, and say, "Do I have intrusive interstitials? Is this something that's affecting my website?"

If you can match up an algorithm update with the time that your rankings started to drop, you have direction. You found an issue. If you can't match it up to any algorithm updates, it's finally time to move on to site updates.

Site updates

What changes happened to your website recently? There are a lot of different things that could have happened to your website. Just keep in mind too that maybe you're not the only one who has access to your website. You're the SEO, but maybe tech support has access. Maybe even your paid ad manager has access. There are a lot of different people who could be making changes to the website. So just keep that in mind when you're looking into it. It's not just the changes that you made, but changes that anyone made could affect the website's ranking. Just look into all possible factors.

Other factors that can impact rankings

A lot of different things, like I said, can influence your site's rankings. A lot of things can inadvertently happen that you can pinpoint and say, "Oh, that's definitely the cause."

Some examples of things that I've personally experienced on my clients' websites...

I. Renaming pages and letting them 404 without updating with a 301 redirect.

There was one situation where a client had a blog. They had hundreds of really good blog posts. They were all ranking for nice, long tail terms. A client emailed into tech support to change the name of the blog. Unfortunately, all of the posts lived under the blog, and when he did that, he didn't update it with a 301 redirect, so all of those pages, that were ranking really nicely, they started to fall out of the index. The rankings went with it. There's your problem. It was unfortunate, but at least we were able to diagnose what happened.

II. Content cutting.

Maybe you're working with a UX team, a design team, someone who is looking at the website from a visual, a user experience perspective. A lot of times in these situations they might take a page that's full of really good, valuable content and they might say, "Oh, this is too clunky. It's too bulky. It has too many words. So we're going to replace it with an image, or we're going to take some of the content out."

When this happens, if the content was the thing that was making your page rank and you cut that, that's probably something that's going to affect your rankings negatively. By the way, if that's happening to you, Rand has a really good Whiteboard Friday on kind of how to marry user experience and SEO. You should definitely check that out if that's an issue for you.

III. Valuable backlinks lost.

Another situation I was diagnosing a client and one of their backlinks dropped. It just so happened to be like the only thing that changed over this course of time. It was a really valuable backlink, and we found out that they just dropped it for whatever reason, and the client's rankings started to decline after that time. Things like Moz's tools, Link Explorer, you can go in there and see gained and lost backlinks over time. So I would check that out if maybe that might be an issue for you.

IV. Accidental no index.

Depending on what type of CMS you work with, it might be really, really easy to accidentally check No Index on this page. If you no index a really important page, Google takes it out of its index. That could happen. Your rankings could drop.So those are just some examples of things that can happen. Like I said, hundreds and hundreds of things could have been changed on your site, but it's just really important to try to pinpoint exactly what those changes were and if they coincided with when your rankings started to drop.

SERP landscape

So we got all the way to the bottom. If you're at the point where you've looked at all of the site updates and you still haven't found anything that would have caused a rankings drop, I would say finally look at the SERP landscape.

What I mean by that is just Google your keyword that you want to rank for or your group of keywords that you want to rank for and see which websites are ranking on page 1. I would get a lay of the land and just see:

What are these pages doing?

How many backlinks do they have?

How much content do they have?

Do they load fast?

What's the experience?

Then make content better than that. To rank, so many people just think avoid being spammy and avoid having things broken on your site. But that's not SEO. That's really just helping you be able to compete. You have to have content that's the best answer to searchers' questions, and that's going to get you ranking.

I hope that was helpful. This is a really good way to just kind of work through a ranking drop diagnosis. If you have methods, by the way, that work for you, I'd love to hear from you and see what worked for you in the past. Let me know, drop it in the comments below.

Thanks, everyone. Come back next week for another edition of Whiteboard Friday.

Video transcription by Speechpad.com

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!

from The Moz Blog https://ift.tt/2mNGI2S via IFTTT

#The Moz Blog #Moz #seo

1 note · View note

553butterfly553 · 7 years

Text

The Dawn of Our Love - Feeling Realization: Camus

Arcadia was sleeping peacefully, was being the keyword. Loud pounding knocks on her door woke her at exactly 8:00 am. They startled her, nearly causing her to fall out of her bed. It instantly infuriated her and caused her to throw herself out of her warm and comfortable bed. She stomped to the door, as the pounding knocks continued, and threw open the door. She caught the evil hand that was doing the knocking so it didn't hit her face and instantly became even more annoyed when she saw who was the knocker.

"Do not touch me!" Camus tore his hand away from hers and glowered down at her. Arcadia just glared back up at him, possibly even more annoyed then him.

"Do not wake me up at 8 in the damn morning. I was having a great dream." Arcadia retorted before slowly calming down. She took a deep breath and then continued talking. "What is it you need Camus? Was there any particular reason for waking me up?" The shift in Arcadia's mood gave Camus an unsettled feeling, however, he chose to ignore it.

"We have work to do. From today on you will be my assistant. Get dressed in proper clothes and don't keep me waiting." Arcadia, instead of following his command, began to laugh hard. She needed to hold onto the door frame to remain standing as she nearly fell over laughing at the man's words. "What is your problem woman? Is there an issue with you becoming my assistant?"

"Oh, there's a problem alright, for you, because that's not happening," Arcadia informed the male as she instantly stopped laughing at his words.

"What do you mean?" Camus was furious over the woman's instant rejection of his demand.

"We're supposed to be working together. You know, to show we can get along so we can go back to working with our actual groups." Arcadia began to take a step back from the man as she grabbed onto her door. "So, we will work together. I'll get ready and you can wait right there." With that, the usually calm and respectful girl slammed the door in his face.

"How dare this woman..." Camus trailed off in this seething to swing around from the door and walk to the windows. He glared out of the windows at the beautiful spring landscape as he calmed down. Well, it was beautiful, but it just infuriated the icy man even further, as he wasn't completely fond of spring.

Inside her room, Arcadia got changed even though she only wanted to go back to sleep. She didn't get enough rest to be able to handle Camus, but she knew she needed to be professional or at least try to.

Arcadia paused in her changing to recall how Camus looked a few moments ago. She internally fangirled over how attractive he looked in his white suit. He might be an asshole, but he's a very attractive asshole. The female sighed to herself and finished getting ready. Once she was dressed she left her room slowly. She wondered if Camus had waited for her, and got her answer when the door was fully opened. He was standing at the window, still looking outside. He clearly didn't realize that she'd opened her door, so she quietly approached him and stood at his side to look out the window as well.

“It's beautiful out there, isn't it?” Arcadia inquired quietly to the beautiful man. He didn't show any signs of shock at her sudden appearance, which disappointed the girl a little bit. She wanted to see him show a face other than his usual cold mask or his fake gentleman mask.

“Yes, it is, however, I prefer summer. It's better weather to take long walks with Alexander.” Camus simply responded, not even looking at the girl at all. She raised an eyebrow and he clarified what he meant. "Alexander is my dog."

“You have a dog?” Arcadia lit up and turned to him happily. “I love animals. What kind of dog is it? Do you have any pictures?” Her eagerness threw Camus off guard, as she didn't seem like the type to freak out over something like that. Camus sighed to himself and pulled out his phone. He went to his camera's gallery and proceeded to show the happy female pictures of his dog.

“His name is Alexander and he is a Borzoi.”

“He's such a beautiful dog.” Arcadia was in awe of his canine. He looked so regal and it was clear that Camus and his dog had a lot in common.

“If you wish, after we go over our schedules and get our plans laid out, I can show him to you in person.” Camus didn't expect the huge smile to appear on the female's face nor the happy gasp that came from her.

“Seriously?”

“I suppose if you aren't annoying.” Arcadia nodded her head, so Camus continued talking. “Very well, we will go have breakfast and discuss our plans.” With that, the two walked off to one of the couches that mostly everyone goes to hang out at. Camus had his student, Cecil Aijima, bring him tea and snacks.It looked like the boy didn't want to be there, but it was clear that he had no choice.

“Um, Camus, do you think you have enough sugar in your tea yet?” Arcadia questioned horrified as the man put cube after cube of sugar in the tea. “It's more sugar than tea now.” He glared at the woman but stopped adding sugar to just stir it around.

“I enjoy sweet things.”

“I see...” Arcadia looked at the tea in front of her and tasted it. It wasn't sweet enough for her, so she added a bit of sugar to it before tasting it again. She deemed it worthy to drink, so she began to happily sip at it. Camus nibbled on some sweets which seemed to make him happy. Arcadia couldn't help but stare at the man and at first, he didn't realize she was staring until he noticed it out of the corner of his eyes. Her gaze was locked on him and a pleasant expression was on her face.

“What makes you think you can stare at me?” Camus suddenly demanded, shocking the white-haired girl. She didn't realize he had seen her as he was still looking down at his tea and sweets. However, her shock turned to annoyance since he just broke the beauty with his arrogant words.

“You know, it's a real shame that such a beautiful being has to have such a shit personality.” Arcadia took another sip of her tea, ignoring the nearly audible sound of snapping as Camus' head turned instantly to glare at her. The small chuckling from Cecil didn't help Camus' anger at all either. The boy was a safe distance away and was hiding so the two didn't realize he was still there until his chuckling.

“How dare you woman, do you think you can speak to me in such a way?” He was seething and looked extremely furious.

“Actually I do think I can. You aren't my master and you sure as hell aren't my friend. If you treat me with absolutely no respect, then you get none from me.” Arcadia simply informed the man. Her voice held a venomous tone to it. “I'm not some little weak-willed woman like Nanami is, therefore I won't put up with any of your attitude towards other people.” Her sudden outburst of rudeness honestly made Camus angry, but also confused. She was kind one second and eager to meet his dog, but then the next she was going off on him. Even the look on her eyes changed along with her personality.

“You have a split personality, am I correct?” Camus noted once he'd calmed down his initial anger towards the woman. “I heard about it from Kotobuki, but I didn't believe him. I needed more information to come to a decisive conclusion about your personality, or personalities I should say.”

“Are you saying you pissed me off on purpose?”

“Such a vulgar way to put it, but yes.”

“Listen here you son of a...” Camus raised his hand to stop her, which actually made her reach out and smack his hand away.That earned her a glare from the regal man, but she ignored it.

“Do you wish to see Alexander now?” That single sentence changed the whole subject and shut the angry woman up. Her anger was replaced by a huge smile on her face.

“Yes, where is he?”

“Come with me.” Camus stood up and motioned for the girl to follow him, which of course she did. He led her to his car where his driver was waiting. He informed her that they were going to his apartment to get his dog and go for a walk. He had originally just wanted to have the person who was taking care of his dog to just bring him back to the dorms for the girl to see. However, he'd upset the girl and, not that he'd admit it, he wanted to make it up to her.

Once they were dropped off in front of the building where his apartment was, Camus led Arcadia to his door. It was at the top and was a penthouse that was clearly elegant and beautiful. It annoyed the girl that he lived somewhere so nice, but let it go when his dog approached them. He seemed annoyed to see Arcadia with his master and was cold to her for a while. It took a bit to get Alexander to warm up to the girl, and she was thrilled over it. Once the dog accepted being around the white-haired girl, Camus hooked him to his leash and the group took off.

Camus led them to a local park and spent over a half hour wandering around in almost silence. Once they reached a little meadow, Camus decided to sit on a bench to rest as Alexander wandered around in the meadow by himself. It was clear that the two had been there a few times before. Arcadia, feeling tired from the long walk, sat down next to the man and turned to face him.

“Thank you for this, Camus. I don't really get out much since I really don't like people or anything, so this has been a really nice time.” Arcadia informed the man with a soft smile on her face.

“If you don't like people, why are you an idol?”

“My parents sent me here because I was too quiet. I like singing enough that I'm able to overcome my shyness for a little while, but... other than that...” Arcadia trailed off and looked over to where the dog was sniffing flowers and bugs. Camus became interested in her explanation and turned to look at her. “I didn't care about all of this at first, but then I saw someone's performance and was captivated by them. So I guess that's why I'm still here being an idol.”

“I see, who was so captivating?” Camus knew full well who she was talking about. She was honest to a fault and had already told a few people of STARISH at one point and she knew someone had told him.

“Don't be smug you jackass.” Arcadia glared at the now smirking man. She huffed and got up to go over to his dog, but was stopped by Camus' voice.

“Wait.” She turned to look at him annoyed. “You dislike who I am, correct?”

“Your personality is vile.”

“Then why not try to get to know me, the version of me under all of that?” His suggestion made Arcadia frown, but she sat down anyway.

“I thought you had no interest in getting friendly with people outside of work.”

“I also have no interest in dealing with your personality changes, so if you and I get along better, I can avoid that.”

“Well then, what do you like to do?” Arcadia asked after a moment of thinking.

“I enjoy riding my horse, fencing and ice skating.”

“Oh really? That's interesting. I don't really have any experience with horses or fencing, but I have skated... kinda. Are you any good at ice skating? I'm terrible and can't even stand up on skates, to be honest.”

“I am quite good at skating. I could give you some tutoring on ice skating someday.” His response made Arcadia laugh and nod her head.

“That'd be nice.” Camus was going to respond to her, however, Alexander approached them, seemingly wanting to go home now. The two agreed that they needed to go back to Camus' penthouse to drop off Alexander and then go back to the dorms to finally go through their schedules. Once that was done, they enjoyed tea and some sweets together before parting ways and going about the rest of their day.

Arcadia was happy she finally got to see who Camus was, even past the cold nature he had in his actual personality. She knew that she would be able to look past his arrogant tendencies and possibly be his friend. It made her extremely happy to think that she was going to be working closely with her crush, but she was worried about how he felt about her.

However, her worries were pointless, as Camus was beginning to realize something. He had never been spoken to in the ways that Arcadia spoke to him. Her bravery in her speech to him had caused something to change in his feelings for her. At first, he didn't care about her existence at all, but his feelings changed the first time she insulted him. He was shocked at her informal and crude way of speaking, however, it intrigued him.

He didn't know what the feeling was, but from what he read in magazines, it was the feeling of attraction. Camus knew he was starting to have an attraction to the woman, which concerned him, but also made him look forward to seeing her again to see what would come of it. He knew she had a crush on him, so he was confident that if he found out he truly felt something for her, she wouldn't reject him. Not that he thought any woman would reject him in the first place.

#camus utapri #uta no prince sama #utapri #quartet night

7 notes · View notes

fabermemorialrink · 7 years

Text

some mistake, part 8

First part of chapter three! Also haha uh this is the last completed section of this fic, so I’m just going to leave it here for a while. I’m sorry!!! The next part is like 80% done, but I feel like this is a cleaner break point, because things turn weird again soon. But who knows! Maybe I’ll get it together for once and hammer out the rest! Anyway, thanks a million to all you beautiful people for reading!! You folks are the best. ♥ ♥

The first thing Derek does after dumping his bag in the new room he now shares with C is take off for the rink, to see if the guys are around. Chowder wasn't in their room, which figures, since he's been back for a few days already, but neither is he in the lobby with Tango and the rest of the new sophomores, or lying in the grass with Rans and Holtzy in the spot Shitty and Johnson claimed for them when Derek was a wee, impressionable freshman.

Ford, who’s sporting a new pair of glasses and demolishing Whiskey in a game of Guess Who, tells him Chowder went to visit a townie friend, and Derek almost crashes through the lobby doors in his hurry to get to the woods. C must already be chilling with Dex, probably gorging themselves on Bitty’s pie or skipping rocks with Lardo and Tater, which would kinda suck since Derek doesn’t know how to find his way in there alone. He waves a casual goodbye to the others as Holster reminds him about their first team breakfast tomorrow, and takes off. He hasn't seen either of his best friends for over two months.

To his surprise, they aren’t deep in the forest when he locates them. They're perched on a low, thick branch near Derek’s hollow, swinging their feet and eating the syrupy ice pops that the nearby convenience mart sells by the box. Chowder’s lips are stained purple; he grins around the plastic tube dangling from his mouth, bringing up one hand to shield himself as Dex flicks red droplets of melted cherry popsicle at his face.

“Don't even think about it-”

“Thought you liked my freckles, C. Don’t you want to match?” Dex snaps his tube forward, spraying more cherry syrup in Chowder’s direction.

“Not with you, goblin man,” Chowder whines, dodging and ducking like he’s in the Matrix. He loses balance, flailing as he begins tipping backwards. Dex tries to save him, grabbing onto C’s sleeve as he topples backwards off the branch, but only manages to get himself dragged down too. They land in a squawking mess of limbs.

Derek whistles in appreciation, strolling up to them while they thrash around like beached squids. “I can’t believe you just let Chowder die,” he tsks.

“Yeah, what the hell! Dropping the ball, Dex.”

“Maybe if the ball had laid off on bag nachos for the summer I wouldn’t have dropped him.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Chowder laughs, slapping his arm across Dex’s chest. “My body is a temple, and I can fill it with twelve hundred bags of Fritos if I want.”

“Christ, Fritos are revolting, C. Nursey, teach this boy something about nutrition, would you?” Dex asks, staring upside down through his lashes at Derek, who grins down at him.

“You eat pie for dinner! Every day!” Chowder yells.

“What’s that? You loathe Bitty’s pies? You never want to taste another one again in your life? I dunno, this’ll really break his heart, but if you really feel that strongly about it…”

Chowder starts with a wail that warps into a battle cry as he leaps at Dex, who tries unsuccessfully to roll away. The noise he makes when C sinks his nails into his hips is unreal; if Derek ignores the stray laughter, it sounds like he’s being dragged to hell.

“Alright, break it up boys, break it up,” Derek says as Chowder begins a tickle offensive and Dex’s leg twitches like he might kick someone’s teeth in by accident. He pushes his way in between the two of them and nudges Dex away with a foot before sitting himself on top of Chowder’s ass, pinning him in place. Chowder kicks his legs, trying to oust Derek from his spot, but gives up, lying defeated in the underbrush.

“This is blatant favoritism,” Chowder grumbles. “I don’t see you crushing Dex with your steel quads.”

“Hey, if we’re talking favoritism, at least Dex lets you into the trees with him.” Every time Derek asks Dex to join him, Dex just flips him the bird and circles the tree like an unhinged coyote.

“That’s because I don’t want you to break your damn neck, you dipstick,” Dex says as he finally crawls off the ground. “And you’re only like 5’ 9”, so catching you is easier than-” He stops short when Derek stands. Derek, who after two years can look him in the eye without tilting his head upward. For some reason, though, he stares half a minute longer, the skin around his neck starting to grow a heated pink. “When the fuck did you get so- so,” and he waves his hand distractedly around Derek’s general person, “uh, tall?” The word falls from his lips like he intended to say something else, and he claps his mouth shut.

“Well, Dex, it was early on the morn of July 11th when I woke crunched up in my tiny bed like a giant in the land of the-”

“Alright, smartass, I get it.” He backs away from Derek, still rosy and flustered, and busies himself with helping Chowder off the ground.

When they're all finally situated, Derek reveals the gifts he brought back with him. The first item he throws in their direction is a humongous bag of cotton candy, which makes them both brighten to an unholy level.

“Didn't you just have popsicles?” he asks dubiously as Dex parcels out a clump to Chowder and lets a strand of the spun sugar dissolve on his tongue.

“Pssshh,” Chowder says.

“Aight, then hook me up too,” Derek says. He opens up his mouth expectantly as Dex reaches out to give him a handful. Reluctantly, Dex pushes the cotton candy past his lips, to rest on his tongue, then snatches his hand back, turning colors again. Super weird.

But Derek leaves him be, dividing up the rest of his souvenirs. Gloves and a shark-shaped tea infuser for C; a scarf and tiny lobster keychain for Dex.

“Trying to buy our affection again, Nursey?” Chowder teases after they thank him.

“Nah, you know I just notice stuff that reminds me of you guys,” Derek says casually. Dex gets awkward about accepting gifts that aren't food, having hang-ups about being indebted to people and wasting money, but Derek has slowly managed to convince him that none of these gifts carry any burden or expectation. He tries to keep them less expensive and more thoughtful, in order to make things easier for his friends.

“Crustaceans remind you of me,” is all Dex comments on, face unsure if it's amused or exasperated, and Derek breaks into a grin.

“Of course they do! Orange and crabby.”

Dex looks like he's about to try and put him in a headlock, so Derek dumps the rest of the bag at his feet. It’s a collection of books that Dex expressed interest in reading; from the surprised delight on his face when he peeks inside, Derek’s hit the mark.

“They're for you to keep, though I wrote in the margins of some, and they're all a little beat up- not that you don't deserve new books,” and now he's spinning in circles, trying to explain this without coming off as a cheap douchebag, “but I thought maybe you'd like to see what I thought? I mean, obviously you'll form your own opinions, but-”

“Nursey, stop. They're great. Thanks, for everything,” Dex says, warmth lacing his tone as he thumbs down the corner of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. His eyes flicker up to meet Derek’s, and they share a smile, leaving Derek feeling somewhere in between bizarre and normal.

He tries to forget about it, but Dex remains somewhat squirrely for the rest of the day, culminating in a really awkward clasp/hug when they depart for the evening. Chowder pulls Dex in for a hug, which runs smoothly as usual, but Derek holds his arms out until Dex brings it in and receives an uncomfortable chest-bump half-hug combo that fizzles out when they pull apart and Dex realizes he’s looking directly into Derek’s eyes. He scuttles back into the woods with a hasty goodbye, power-walking away with his arms full of books, leaving Derek to make baffled faces at Chowder on their walk home.

Derek is still stewing over it by tomorrow morning at team breakfast, when he's finally awake enough to ask Chowder what the deal was with yesterday.

“Dex is just worked up ‘cause you got taller and hotter over the summer!” Chowder tells him while inhaling cheerios. Derek almost stabs himself in the gums with his fork.

There were enough keywords in that sentence to grab Holster’s attention from all the way down the table, and he launches out of his seat to accost Derek while he chokes on his homefries.

"Nursey. Nurse. Derek, my bro, my precious d-man hatchling, what delightful news is this?!" Holster bellows, almost knocking Ollie out of his spot as he collides with the bench next to Derek. The plate of pancakes flies across the table like a frisbee, stopped only by Ford's quick hand, trained, no doubt, by hours and hours of expertly managing unruly wild-eyed theater kids.

Derek quits choking long enough to splutter out, "It's nothing, just Chowder being-"

"Nothing?!" comes the outraged rallying cry from Ransom, who crosses from the omelette station to their table in three long graceful bounds. He launches his plate aside to squeeze in next to Holster, which triggers a domino effect and squishes Whiskey to the very edge of the bench. The sophomore continues valiantly eating his toast as if he doesn’t have only half his butt on a solid surface.

"Sounds like way more than nothing to us!"

"Sounds like someone's getting a head start on winter formal, is what I'm thinking, Holtzy." Ransom says, looping his arm around Derek's shoulders and staring him down with his most intense co-captain stare.

"It sure does, bro."

Derek rips his eyes away from Ransom's hypnotic stare long enough to direct his glare at turncoat Christopher Chow, who continues smiling and vacuuming up cereal like he didn't just bodily shove Derek under several two-hundred pound buses. He barely has any idea of what's happening right now, and certainly isn't prepared to defend himself from his captains’ onslaught of (un)helpful support.

"Well, I dunno if he can go to formal," Chowder says, looking apologetic even as he throws gasoline onto the flames. "He doesn't go here, and he’s probably not big on parties. But I think Nursey should ask anyway!" Holster lights up like a Hanukkah candle and stumbles back off the bench in order to squish in on Derek's other side instead, leaving him flanked by both meddling seniors.

“Like always, actual genius C. Chow is completely right. You miss 100% of the shots, etcetera, you know the rest. If you need help asking-”

“We got your back. Nursey, you know we’re here for you,” Ransom says gravely.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks guys, but I'm, uh. I'm gonna sleep on it first.”

“Working up to it, eh? Well, you just let us know.” Rans claps him on the arm and starts tearing into his omelette; Holster watches Derek for half a minute more with two eggs bunched up in his cheeks, but also slaps him on the back eventually, and returns his attention to the table conversation.

Derek pointedly refuses eye contact with Chowder, who huffs a bit, and concentrates on slathering butter on his toast while he mulls everything over. Was Chowder right about yesterday?

Dex and Derek...they sort of joke around about it sometimes. Fake-flirting, pet names – Derek instigates it most times, just to see the glowing flush that overtakes Dex’s skin and the flash of teeth he shows when he snipes back. But when Dex isn't too busy rolling his eyes right out of their sockets he plays along, calling Derek ‘angel face’ and ‘pumpkin’ and ‘sugarplum’. It's just a harmless thing they do. It never means anything.

But yesterday, Dex had been genuinely flustered, and it makes Derek feel restless with questions.

“C. Chowder. Chris,” he hisses, resorting to kicking Chowder under the table until he stops talking to Tango about video games.

“Derek,” Chowder says, beaming, as he literally rips a banana in half. He always eats fruit in these weird-ass ways that Derek has chosen to accept as one of his few shortcomings. “What’s up?”

“Yesterday, with Dex...was he really- do you think he thinks that I’m-” Chowder chews and nods encouragingly while Derek flounders for words. He gives up and winds up demanding, “Am I hot now?”

“Like, objectively? You were always cute, in this quiet way, right? But I dunno, you really grew into your own over the summer,” Chowder says thoughtfully. He places his hand delicately to his chest and scrounges up a parental sigh. “Guess my boy’s finally growing up!”

“Four months younger than you, Christopher.” Chowder just simpers at him, some stray banana mush falling off his cheek. “I don’t feel different. I mean, yeah, we’re the same height now, but the other stuff-”

“Like I said, you were always cute! But you look more...grown-up now? And it really works for you, buddy! And it really really works for Dex, haha.” At Derek’s look of pure, overwhelmed disbelief, Chowder blinks, then takes pity on him, offering a real smile. “Nursey. Don’t tell me this is a surprise to you. He, like, always calls you pretty.”

“Yeah, but that’s-”

Chowder shakes his head as he folds his two banana peels into a stack. “Just a joke? You don’t see the way he looks at you sometimes; I know you’re besties and all, but sometimes he- how do I put this. He lingers? You’ll say something funny, or interesting, and he kind of traces your face with his eyes. And sometimes it’s like he’s studying for a test he needs to pass. Whoa, now I’m getting poetic, but seriously. He can be kind of intense. Pay attention next time, and you’ll see.”

Derek doesn’t need to wait until next time. He's already replaying memories, sifting through for any evidence that what Chowder is saying is true. It doesn't help that Dex spends a lot of time being intense about one thing or another, but pieces start to fit together, moments coming into clarity as Derek thinks about them longer. The way Dex’s amber eyes turn dark and pensive sometimes when he looks over at Derek, an unnamed heaviness passing between them. How the corner of his mouth unfolds into the curve of a smile on occasion, even when Derek isn't particularly amusing. How serious he sounds when he gives out a rare, unprompted compliment.

Derek doesn’t know what to do with this information. He needs more time to process it, so he turns his attention to the other matter that’s come to mind. “How do you see all of this stuff? It sounds obvious when you point it out, but it’s like I’ve been blind this whole time.”

“I just notice things. About you guys, about the team. I like watching people, seeing how they move and think. Maybe it’s a goalie thing?” he laughs.

“No, I get it. But- you’re a good friend, Chowder,” Derek tells him, because Derek likes people-watching too, but Chowder gets him and Dex both. He knows so much more about the people around him than he'll probably ever get credit for.

“Aw, thanks! You’re a good friend too. My question, though, is what are you gonna do about this? Not that you have to do anything! I just don’t want things to be weird.”

“I. Don’t know?” Derek says helplessly. “It’s flattering, but he’s my best friend, and I don’t- I’m not sure if either of us want anything else? It might not even mean anything; like, I’ve always thought Dex was cute, but that doesn’t mean-”

That doesn’t necessarily mean Derek wants to pursue a relationship with him. Dex is attractive, sure, but he's Derek’s best friend. Those two things don't necessarily make them romantically compatible. If Derek took the time to really consider it, could he honestly see him and Dex dating?

Could he imagine going with Dex to winter formal? Dex would probably hate it, grumbling about his two left feet, and the ridiculousness of hiring a DJ for a high school dance, and how preppy everyone looks. He'd chirp Derek for it too, while helping the hockey team demolish the refreshments table, but then compliment him later on some surprising detail like his choice of tie color or the way he's done his hair. Derek would wheedle until Dex agreed to a dance, the two of them swaying stupidly to a slow song, before Derek tries to put his dance lessons to good use. Dex could be convinced to stay for a few more songs, but they'd stay in the corner with the wallflowers, where the lights are dim and the white streamers hang in sweeping loops under silver and spangled balloons. They're about the same height now, broaching six feet, and Dex’s broad hand would rest heavy against Derek’s waist or shoulder, but it would probably link pretty perfectly with Derek’s own hand.

Could he imagine them going to the movies together, sitting in the back row of some noisy summer blockbuster and stealing overpriced raisinettes and nachos from each other? Dex would never spring for snacks, but he wouldn't be able to help himself from swiping food from Derek if Derek decided to be disgustingly extravagant and purchase five different boxes of chocolate. It would start innocently enough, Derek pressing caramels and junior mints into Dex’s hand each time he reached over, until his boxes were empty and he could trick Dex into holding hands with him the next time he reached.

Could he imagine trying to make dinner together? Or spending nights together in Derek and Chowder’s dorm room, Dex tucked in Derek’s away game sleeping bag on the floor next to them? They'd talk until morning about poetry and unsolved mysteries, stupid childhood mishaps and unimportant truths, and maybe when Chowder wakes up it’ll be to the sight of Dex curled up next to Derek on his bed (but he'll never tell).

Derek could take him to the amusement park with the team. Dex would probably like roller coasters like Ransom and Tango. Derek would force him to ride the teacups twenty times with him and Chowder, and drag him through the mirror house. He'd buy him funnel cake and corndogs and more cotton candy, fresh-spun and as pink as Dex's face would be if Derek tried to sit up next to him on the ferris wheel.

They could go explore the historical side of Boston, or tour the haunted houses of Salem, or drive east to Gloucester and Rockport to see the North Shore. They could roadtrip straight across to California, or to Niagara Falls, or to see the Grand Canyon – any of the places that Dex as said he'd like to visit someday.

Derek would take him home to Manhattan. Mama would love him, this prickly, weathered forest boy who she can feed and wrap in a cocoon of blankets. Mom would be more cautious, but dad would convince her, once they bonded over fleecing people in card games, and car maintenance and I Love Lucy. Dex would stay in the guest room, but Derek would sneak him into his room, where Dex would tease him about his choice in posters and the felt solar system mobile mom made for him when he was a baby, still hanging over his desk. They'd lie under Derek’s covers, listening to ATCQ and Run-D.M.C. before Derek gives him a rundown of the music of the last five years, since Dex doesn't know any songs more recent than the top of the charts from 2008.

He'd toss book after book from his shelf into Dex’s lap, recommending every single one despite all the protests. They would drag Derek’s comforter out to the balcony to watch the sunrise together, Dex leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder, his hair the same color as the sun-dyed sky brushing over Derek’s collarbone, and their hands tentatively linked together under the blanket.

Maybe by then Derek will have gathered up the nerves to kiss him.

...wait, hold up.

“Nursey, you in there?” Chowder asks gently as Derek lowers his forehead to rest on the table.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just need a minute to process some stuff,” he mumbles weakly back.

Dex would close his eyes, pale lashes fanning out to flutter against his cheeks in anticipation. Derek would lean in, his heart hammering in sixteenth notes, trying not to crush Dex’s fingers in his grasp. It would be soft, Derek thinks, though sometimes talking to Dex makes him feel like every part of him is burning, whether with frustration or fondness or amusement. They could kiss like a fistfight, but that first time, at least, would be gentle. As silly as it seems, Dex would probably taste like the pie du jour, and he would be warm – so warm and solid against Derek’s skin that he could ignite.

That’s how it would go, he thinks.

Okay, okay, cool cool cool. So he wants to date Dex. This isn’t exactly new; he’s always wanted to hang out with Dex outside of the woods, anyway, like besties do.

He also wants to kiss Dex, so there’s that. It's fine. So chill. Just the chillest.

“I think I might be fucked,” he finally tells Chowder, who nods sympathetically and gives him his glass of chocolate milk in solidarity.

“Like I said, you don’t have to do anything. But the possibility is there. Maybe you should take a chance.”

“Okay, I- uh. I’mma think it over a little longer.”

Chowder narrows his eyes. “Like a hundre-”

“Yeah, yep, like a hundred years longer. I don’t wanna mess everything all up?” Derek says, trying to express with his hands the breadth of this situation. “He’s really important to me, C. I can’t fuck this up.”

“No, I get it. Take your time. And when you figure it out, make sure to let my great-grandchildren know, yeah?”

Derek laughs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Sure thing, Chowder.”

He just needs time to sort it all out: his own feelings, Dex’s strange behavior and lingering looks, and that possibility of something more. He just needs a chance to work through this thing that feels so unexpected yet undeniable, before any more surprises come his way.

#nurseydex #nursey #dex #omgcp fic #some mistake #chowder #hey i love the frogs #awkward losers trying to figure out their ~feelings~

53 notes · View notes