#THE BITCH ACCUSES ME OF RIPPING HIS MONEY IN HALF

[softboybrucewayne]

ok so listen tis the holiday season so just like an idea like. look. if all retail workers just had like. a box of eggs per week. and permission to chuck eggs at annoying customers

[kakaostories3]

I think I will always be bitter about the time I wasted with ____.

I get recurring flashbacks of the most horrible and terrifying moments of being psychologically abused mostly through being gaslit and falsely accused of saying something "racist". (I don't deny calling him an asshole or something like that - because I was simply speaking the truth).

That one day when I came home from a 12 hour night shift at work. That morning it was his birthday. The dog was in the living room and excited to see me. I tried to shut the dog up but he was jumping around in excitement. That morning, I took a hot shower and the shower head is noisy. ____ got pissed at me, accused me of purposely ruining his birthday, then proceded to destroy our apartment. A bunch of trash and miscellaneous things piled up in the living room floor. I tried to barricade myself in the living room but he let himself in anyway by unlocking the door with a screwdriver. He grabbed a wooden sign with our name and anniversary date, went outside the balcony and ripped the sign apart with his bare hands. He wanted a divorce but a couple of days later he begged for me to take him back because I sent an e-mail that I was going to cancel the lease and he would then end up homeless. After I moved out I paid a huge price for repairing all the damages left behind. And I spent six years with him, building up our life together, only for him to destroy it instantly.

I will never forget being betrayed the whole time I was with ____. I will never forget that girl's fat ugly face. I kept the screenshots of his phone, the text messages exchanged a couple of months after my mom passed away. The ugly naked photos of her on my fucking bed. I absolutely hated everything about it so much that I threw away that disgusting mattress, the bedframe, the bed sheets even though I would've loved to keep them. All gone by the time I moved out.

I'll never forget how he used drugs behind my back, left the house at 4am and came back at 10pm. Never being honest about what he was doing, and the fact that he was clearly under the influence of drugs. Will never forget how it turned out that he was doing drugs with that ugly bitch. Will never forget him taking my dog out for 13 hours before i even had a chance to feed him that morning. Never answering his phone or text messages when he would be seriously just gone for hours on end.

I'll always be bitter that i owe this fucker almost 900 dollars as a result of this divorce. I'll gladly write a check or even throw cash at his face just to move on. But that's wasted money.

I'll never regret taking everything he had because he deprived me of basic joy and happiness, even though I had moments of euphoria when we were together. There was no such thing as stability with him. The abuse was cyclical.

I won't ever forget what he did to my family (who he never loved). Physically pushed my brother in law who I've known for over half my life, treated my dad like shit, refusing to be a sympathetic human being when we were freshly grieving over the death of my mom. We were nothing but nice to him.

I almost regret putting on restraint that one day I grabbed him by the wrist and *almost* slapped his face multiple times. But knowing him he would've blamed it on me, pressed charges, call me racist, etc.

I heavily regret getting married. I am thankful I had the hindsight to not have a child with this asshole.

I'm so ashamed and embarrassed with myself for marrying him. I no longer post on social media, even though back then i was proud to show us off as a couple. I don't want to publicly admit that I made the absolute worst choice of my life in 2017. I would need to publicly admit that I made a mistake and I stayed even after he cheated because I was so empty and lonely in my heart when my mom passed away, the void was so horribly vast that I chose to keep someone toxic in my life just to fill as much of it, but no matter what, I still felt a huge emptiness, with the added bonus of enduring intense emotional abuse.

I will always feel hurt because of the times when I expressed my feelings and they were dismissed as if they never mattered.

i openly admit that I was dating someone behind ____'s back when we were still married and at a relatively calm period. He was fucking behind my back the whole time. I don't like that other person anymore but I was figuratively twisting a knife behind ____'s back and I enjoyed it.

I feel very sorry that I still harbor these intense feelings every day in my head, especially since now i have someone who's made my life much better since then. I'm still afraid to tell my dad that I have a new boyfriend now. I'm still embarrassed by what happened at his birthday party.

[arrowflier]

can you write “Hit my husband again and I’ll fucking kill you” but this time Mickey says it 😯 always wondered how he respond to a lip and ian show down

The house was quiet when Mickey woke up from his accidental afternoon nap. He sighed into the pillow, stretching an arm over the space where Ian would normally lie.

It was cold. Of course it was—it was the middle of the fuckin’ day. Ian was probably still at work, at that dead-end job that barely even made a dent in the bills.

That made Mickey sigh for a different reason.

He was thinking about just staying there, going back to sleep until Ian got home. Ian would accuse him of sleeping all day anyway; he might as well make it true.

Then a crash sounded through the house, the outer wall vibrating against Mickey’s extended leg, and raised voices rose up through the floor vent.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Mickey heard Lip shout as he rolled off the bed and scrambled for the closed accordion door.

He ripped it open, stumbled out into the hallway, caught himself on the wall when another thud sounded from below.

“Was thinking I didn’t want to be little bitch like you,” Ian’s voice echoed up the stairs, gravely and rough.

There was a clatter, like dishes falling, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Well, Mickey thought absently. Guess Ian was home after all.

He hurried to the stairs, tripped over the first one, and kept going. When he got to the landing, he stopped, watching the carnage that was Ian and Lip Gallagher trying to pummel each other in the middle of the family kitchen.

Ian was winning, that was for damn sure. He had Lip in a headlock, using his height to his advantage, while his brother flailed. It didn’t last long, though, Ian’s arms loosening when he caught sight of Mickey with wide eyes, and Lip finally got in a solid hit to Ian’s gut.

Ian went down. Lip followed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mickey yelled out, rushing down the steps as soon as Ian fell. “The fuck is goin’ on down here?”

Neither Ian nor Lip responded, too busy grappling on the floor to spare him a glance. Ian kneed Lip in the groin—Lip pulled Ian’s hair. Ian hooked a leg around Lip’s and flipped them, pinning his older brother to the floor—Lip headbutted him, scrambling out from underneath.

Mickey was there when he stood, shoving Lip into the corner of the counter to get to Ian’s side. He reached down to grasp Ian’s arm, help him up, but his husband slapped his hand away, too preoccupied with a freshly bloodied nose to notice whose it was.

“Ian, hey!” Mickey yelped, shaking his hand out. “What are you hitting me for?”

“He does that,” Lip spit out off to the side, cradling his ribs as he leaned against the cabinets. “Likes to take shit out on people that are trying to help him.”

Oh, hell no.

Mickey left Ian there on the floor, holding his nose and staring up at Mickey apologetically, and marched the two steps over to Lip. He stood close, toe to toe, and leaned in even closer.

“The fuck you just say about him?” he hissed in Lip’s bruised face.

Lip blinked.

“He just quit his job, Mickey, he tell you that?” Lip asked. “He tell you he threw away the only good thing this family has right now?”

Mickey paused. Cut his eyes down to Ian without moving out of Lip’s space.

“That true?” he asked, and Ian didn’t answer. His silence was answer enough.

Mickey turned back to Lip.

“So he quit that stupid-ass job,” he said. “You started a fight over that?”

“We need the money, Mickey!” Lip cried. “Not like you’re helping out, and we can’t all live off stolen cereal all the time!”

“Yeah? Our contributions not enough for you, college?” Mickey asked. “How’s your job doin’ right now?”

“Mickey,” Ian said from the floor, quiet.

“Not now, Ian,” Mickey responded. “I’m taking care of something.”

He let his voice drop, pushing forward enough that Lip should be able to feel the heat of his breath, the heat behind his words.

“You don’t get to put that shit on Ian,” he growled. “Or on me. You’re a grown ass man, start acting like it.”

“He started it,” Lip said. “Threw a damn bowl at me when I told him he needed to go beg for that job back.”

“Don’t care who hit who first,” Mickey said flatly, not pulling back. “Or why. You hit my husband again at all, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Lip swallowed, audibly. His eyes flitted off to the side.

“Whatever,” he said, feigning disinterest, and shoved at Mickey’s chest.

Mickey let him, falling back a step so Lip could move away from the counter. He watched as Lip left, not bothering to stop and help Ian, just going straight out the back door and letting it slam shut.

Mickey waited a breath, watching, but the door stayed closed. Then he went to Ian, and helped him up properly this time.

“You good?” Mickey asked. He didn’t specify as to what.

“Yeah,” Ian said on a sigh. “I’m good, Mick.”

“You sure?”

Ian offered a half-grimace, half-smile. “I’m sure. Families fight, Mickey, it’s nothing new.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah, you think I don’t know that, wise guy?”

Ian’s smile turned real.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“It’s okay,” Mickey told him, then, “I’m kinda proud of you, you know.”

“For quitting that job?” Ian asked. “I know you hated it.”

“No,” Mickey answered. “For beating the shit out of Lip.”

He waited as Ian laughed, watching the way it brought life back into his pained eyes.

“Now come on,” he said as the laughter began to fade. “There’s a warm spot on the bed callin’ your name, man, go get in it.”

Ian skated a hand over Mickey’s hip as he obediently moved toward the stairs.

“Are you coming with me?” he asked, and Mickey nodded.

They would talk about it later, he was sure. About the job, about Lip, about the future. About why Ian felt the need to fight his brother in the middle of the house, in the middle of the day, over something he would have agreed with about just hours ago.

But that could wait.

“Sure, Ian,” he said. “Let’s go enjoy our fucking extended honeymoon.”

[featherfur]

Meng Yao should have been around when Jiang Cheng was running around with his head cut off trying to make disciples out of rogues and convince everyone to get started on the war. I just think he’d see this, probably manic, idiot who needs help and is 100% willing to be bossed around and who really doesn’t care about Meng Yao station in life because he’s just fucking desperate and wants to die but can’t because Yanli and just go “actually I’m interested”. Because Jiang Cheng would riot if he knew Meng Yao wanted to go back to his dad, and well Jiang Cheng is very pathetic when he thinks he’s being left behind (“You’re leaving me for the Jin just like Shijie? Tears and loud words for you! Tears and loud words dor a thousand years!”)

And Meng Yao would have a spot in Lotus Pier where he is VERY clearly wanted, he probably doesn’t become sworn brothers with anyone (or LXC and NMJ realize that no one needs to give the Jin any more influence and become sworn brothers with Jiang Cheng) unless it’s Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian (unfortunately WWX will still probably be killed or hunted at the very least but atleast Qin Su is alive? Maybe having MY around will help calm JC into the fact that LWJ wants to bang his brother and help him so JC can convince WWX to let LWJ atleast play for him, then maybe WWX can accidentally let slip about him already destroying one half and LWJ can help destroy the other half… Dunno if the Wen Remnants survive either sorry, honestly I don’t know if anyone can stop JGS in the long run)

So there’s two ways this goes: (under read more I have Thoughts)

Meng Yao DOES go to the Jin Sect still because JC gets wanting your Dad’s Approval even when he’s a dick AND he protects Yanli who immediately adopted him when JC showed up to the war with him. Without being stuck between a Rock and a Hard place (sorry NMJ not everyone is a annoyingly stubborn with their morals as you and MY is being hurt :( leave him alone :(( ) MY is able to continue being pressured without breaking and even though JGS keeps trying to get him to manipulate JC, MY won’t and won’t manipulate NMJ either and every time he goes to Lotus Pier to ‘look into’ the Jiang Sect he actually just spends the week being plied with children and listening to Jiang Cheng explain the fashion industry Again and talk about silks vs cashmeres vs wool so he just gets a vacay and is more prepared to stand up against his dad.

Also JC and Yanli catch on pretty quick to Madam Jin abusing MY because they were there after Madam Yu would hurt WWX and they know the signs of trying to hide the pain and Yanli suddenly starts Show Up whenever Madam Jin tries anything because that is her Didi now and she will protect him and if anyone ELSE tries to mess with him she will rip them apart like when Jin Zixun tries to bother WWX.

JGS does eventually manage to frame something on WWX but MY intervenes immediately by telling JC the truth and without the ‘did my kinda insane PTSD ridden brother so this?” Panic thoughts JC gets his people and is waiting for the force of Jin and smaller sects, with his two sworn brothers on either side. Because yeah NMJ absolutely hates the Wen but can he really ignore LXC and JC? Plus NHS on the side? He’s only there to protect WWX, anyone else can get fucked and even then he’s only protecting WWX because JC asked him too because NMJ thinks WWX sucks for choosing the wens because he’s very much of the one track ‘the wens suck’ mind. MY pretends he has no idea what’s going on but he does summon Jin Zixuan on ‘accident’ who shows up, annoyed he had to leave his kid, and is like “are we really going to accuse Nie Mingjue, known Wen hater, of protecting Wei Wuxian and lying about his innocence? Because his sword is the same size as my body and I’d rather Not”

(okay he’s more polite and subtle but that’s the gist) somehow Jin Guangshan dies, I’m voting Yanli poisoned him because I think Meng Yao is 100% willing at this point to simply take the abuse because Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen aren’t essentially telling him to murder his father and that he’s stupid for not holding harder to his morals (sorry NMJ,,, you just,, I love you but MY is hurting and he’s not as stabby as you) NMJ is still very much crankily telling him his dad sucks whenever they meet but Jiang Cheng gets all sparkly whenever MY is around because MY will say he’s Doing Good, so there’s only so much room before JC start just biting anyone who even looks at MY wrong. (NMJ says he’s proud of JC once and JC just starts crying and NMJ UnderstandsTM why MY won’t leave him alone)

But Yanli has to be the one to kill him because MY wouldn’t because he’s a filial son and probably hasn’t lost his hope he will be Loved, Jin Zixuan wouldn’t because he’s like the only one in the entire show not down with murder, Madam Jin is not about to give up the power and money that comes from being the wife of Jin Guangshan even if JZX would take care of her because Yanli clearly is willing to rip everyone apart who fucks with her family and unlike Jiang Cheng is willing to change the status quo, and if JGS dies on a hunt they’ll blame WWX so Yanli just poisons him slowly and he dies from ‘illness’. JZX takes power, Meng Yao is told he’s amazing twelve times a day because JZX can do busy work and argue against anyone but he cannot have a small talk conversation to save his life. Life continues peacefully, Jiang Cheng keeps kidnapping JZX’s advisor because he misses him. Meng Yao knows how to control literally every single great sect but he’s busy chasing down his nephews and helping Jiang Cheng avoid marriage offers to do anything.

Once Jin Guangshan died, LXC and MY both swooped in to have the Wen Remnants moved somewhere else to ‘civilize’ them (using LXC’s own words here) and WWX is very much caught between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji arguing over who he’s going home with and he’s honestly never felt more Loved TM. WWX spends six months to break the rest of the tiger rally under the grumpy/watchful eye of NMJ who still isn’t happy anyone from the Wen’s is still alive but he’s weak to puppy eyes and also when he’s being strong armed by his sworn brothers, MY, and NHS (though he still keeps an eye on the actual cultivators, he’s pretty much forgotten the rest of the Wen Remnants exist he just cares about the ones who know how to use a sword). Wangxian happens, idk how I’m voting for a wild Jingyi another orphan decides that he wants to meet the Purple Angry Man and body slams into WWX’s legs trying to get to the Purple man and LWJ catches him and it’s a full on romantic moment of staring into each other’s eyes while Jiang Cheng makes disgusted noises and Meng Yao pats his hand and just tells him to accept it.

Or Meng Yao stays in Lotus Pier because Jiang Cheng has problems and Meng Yao loves a messy loudmouth aggressive bitch with a secret heart of gold. Also Jiang Cheng is the exact kind of Demi-aroace dummy to not realize Meng Yao has a crush on LXC and keeps sending him over to Cloud Recesses to help with trade or something and MY gets to hang out with his crush constantly.

MY is Jiang Cheng’s personal advisor since WWX is currently refusing to process his trauma and staying in a very traumatic place. MY does try to help but WWX doesn’t trust him and probably only half trusts him around JC, BUT MY is very good with kids and helps work with JC on how to slip WWX supplies while negotiating directly with Nie and Lan without Jin glaring over him this time, and Jin Zixuan is more than happy to help when he can because again he’s just like the only one with modern morals and wants Lotus Pier to be strong since if all the sects fall then well the fucking demons/ghosts they hunt will eat them. So WWX is slowly atleast not ready to kill him, Meng Yao finds out WWX already destroyed half the Tiger Tally and tries to get him to let NMJ and LXC help him destroy it further (because that ties the three sects closer and so WWX won’t just stab someone if someone isn’t happy about the Wen’s existing)

Yanli poisons Jin Guangshan again because I think that’s the best way for him to go, Meng Yao does grieve but also that lasts for three minutes before Jiang Cheng shows up with some children he found in Yunmeng and Meng Yao needs to explain to him again that just because the kid latches on doesn’t mean you can take them home. But with JGS out of the way it’s a lot easier to strong arm NMJ into letting the Lan take the remnants (JC and NMJ still aren’t happy about it but NMJ can’t fight the three other sects and JC is getting his brother back and he’ll take the Wen living if that means WWX is too) and WWX returns to Lotus Pier. The truth of the golden core comes out probably via WWX having a flashback or panic attack or something (or that one theory of Yanli knowing,,,) words happen, WWX storms off to find LWJ.

Meng Yao wonders why he likes messy cry babies but still helps out Jiang Cheng because they’re technically brother in laws and also because he really does care about him. Wangxian happens and now Jiang Cheng is really pissed but WWX also said he wasn’t going to just up and leave so they’re on a rotating system but honestly everyone’s just waiting for them to move permanently to Lotus Pier because Lan Wangji has this giant hole in his heart for kids who love Wei Wuxian and Lotus Pier is filled with kids who are Jiang and therefore are insane ans love WWX.

Personally I think this one is the least likely but it sounds very nice right?

[kindnessisweakness2]

Delusional - Part 9!

When Delaney woke up she didn't recognize anything around her. One thing she did know is she felt like she had been hit by a truck. Looking around her, the dimly lit room was empty apart from a shabby wooden table a few feet infront of her with a camera tripod placed in the centre. Looking down at the uncomfortable chair she was sat in she silently thanked god she was still in her shorts and Jax’s T-shirt she wore yesterday. As her head pounded painfully she tried to think back to yesterday and how the hell she ended up here. She couldnt remember anything after crying in the bathroom as Jax left. Jax. Oh God. He was probably hauled up with Tara making up for lost time. he probably didnt even know she was gone. Tears welled in her eyes as she realised no one was looking for her. No one knew she was gone. Before she could let herself panic too much the heavy steel door to the right of the room was slammed open. Out walked Kevin and Delaneys stomach dropped heavily. Yes Kevin was weird but he couldnt be the matermind behind this. NO. Delaney was 100% sure there was something else to this. She didnt have to wait long to get her answer either. A few minutes later Alex followed Kevin into the cold room with a video camera held tightly in his hands. Delaney Knew she was right. Her Jaw fell slack as she made eye contact with the man that ruined her life and nearly killed her. The man she was convinced for years she loved deeply. “Hey Babe, Did you miss me?” Alex smirked at the shock that was still clear on he face. “What? W-why? H-how?” Delaney could barley speak never mind stutter the small questions she do desperately wanted answers to. “Oh sweetie ill explain everything dont you worry. But first things first-” Alex raised his finger dramatically and turned to the video camera that now sat firmly on the tripod. Pressing the ON button and connecting a cable it beeped to life. “ I dont think your little Biker Bitch will want to miss out on this.” Before Delaney could say anything a chain was tightly hooked to the handcuffs around her wrists and yanked upwards. In seconds she was hung from the ceiling with her arms suspended above her head. Gasping in pain she clenched her eyes shut tightly. Her shoulders were on fire immediately and her toes barley brushed the damp floor. Glaring at Alex as he came to stand Beside her Delaney scoffed. “So whats the plan? Kill me? Send the video to the club? You know they’ll kill you right? You kill me and Jax will come for your head.” Alex burst out laughing and shook his head. “Oh Baby girl, you’ve grown some balls since you were mine.” Grabbing her face tightly he yanked her forward on the chain so she was closer to the camera. “This is being streamed to the Clubhouse as we speak. Kevin here managed to change the connection at the last beer delivery and you didnt even notice.” Tutting at her sarcastically Alex let go of her face and smiled at her. “Kevin here is a sucker for a pretty face. He fell for you pretty quickly. I find it quite rude you weren’t particularly nice about the gifts he left for you. The notes were me ofcourse. Poor Kevin here doesnt have the same artistic flare as me.” Alex’s smile was sinister as he turned from Delaney to take a Knife from Kevin. Delaney’s stomach turned as he made his way back towards her and grabbed her neck tightly so she couldnt flinch away. The grin on his face made Delaney feel sick as he cut the navy blue SAMCRO T-shirt from her body. She could only hope that whatever it was he had planned for her, he would kill her quick. 

The slamming of the clubhouse door hinted at Jax’s arrival. Half sack had called him to explain what showed up on the bar TV and within minutes every club member and Gemma was crowded around the large screen. Jax’s heart broke as his eyes locked on Delaney’s fearful ones. She was hung from the ceiling in nothing but a black lace bra and black cycle shorts. “So this is what you’ve been planning for the year we’ve been seperated? Finding me a stalker and planning your revenge?” Delaney spat angrily. Kevin stood in the corner just staring ad her as she was suspended half naked in the dirty room and it made her want to vomit. Jax turned up the volume on the TV just as Alex came into view. Looking at his mother Jax’s eyes were on fire with anger. “I thought you said he left her and moved back to England?” Gemma glared at her son. “ And i thought you were meant to be protecting her? You left her and the bastard swooped in and took her! I’m not the only one with some explaining to do am i?!” Jax shook his head and turned back to the screen. Now was not the time to argue with his impossible mother. He needed to focus on finding Delaney. He focused his attention back on the screen just in time to see Alex put the Knife to her neck. “You were mine. You really think i was going to let you go that easy? We would still be together if it wasnt for Jaxon Teller. You didnt care about me anymore once you met him.” Alex Gripped Delaney by the Hair and pulled her head back exposing her neck more. “You’re wrong! About everything.” Gasping in pain as strands of her hair were pulled out by the roots Delaney had to argue. She couldnt let him blame everything on Jax. “You’re just upset you lost your fucking punchbag! You beat me almost every day i was with you for nothing. The day i got that Job at Teller-Morrow was the day i got part of my life back. I wasnt just your housewife anymore. I had my own money and i was saving up to leave you.” Alex stepped away from Delaney his face crimson red with anger, But with tears streaming down her face she continued to tell him the truth. Her Truth. He needed to know just how much of a monster he was. “Then i came home late from a club party late, they’d asked me to work the bar, do you remember? How you accused me of sleeping with every member? How you told me the only thing i was good for was being passed around? That no one would ever want me?! Do you remember Alex? How you beat me so bad my eyes were swollen shut for days. How i was unconscious on our kitchen floor for 2 days. How you stomped on my chest the next morning and broke 4 of my ribs because i physically couldnt get up and make you breakfast! How you made me clean ourhouse on my hands and knees because i was in too weak, in too much pain to stand!” Alex scoffed as Delaney sobbed. “You fucking deserved it! You were sleeping with Teller behind my back! you just wanted to get rid of me so you could be with him. you never paid me any attention and hung around him like a desperate whore. You think i dont remember those times i came to pick you up from work to see you flirting with him right infront of my face. Laughing and Giggling like a teenage school girl! You were practically begging for him!” 

Grabbing hold of the chain Delaney was tied to he spun her around. Delaney knew what was coming next and couldnt help but squeeze her eyes shut in fear. “You didn't waste any time did you you bitch? you got his crow tattooed across your shoulders. Isn’t that how that sordid little club marks women as theirs?” Delaney stayed silent and hung her head as she felt Alex press the knife into the middle of her back where Jax’s initals sat underneath the black crow in flight that stretched across her upper back and shoulders. “Its not like that.” Delaney muttered as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh did he mark you as his then threw you away like the cheap little bitch you always have been? Poor Delaney, no one ever wanted you so you throw yourself at the first man that looks your way.” More tears fell from her eyes as she Shook her head, “You know NOTHING about him. He’s more of a man than you’ll EVER be. He’s a good person, Hes loyal and he would do anything for family. You? Youre a fucking coward.” Alex’s face was like thunder. Pulling the chain hard making her yelp in pain as she was quickly turned to face him he punched her in the face making her swing backwards. Feeling the blood run down her lips Delaney grinned as she met Alex’s brown eyes. “Point proven! You’ll put your hands on a woman but you’d never hit a man. As a Great friend of mine would say you’re a Slimy Wee Bastard.” Her heart clenched painfully as she thought of Chibs he was like a father to her and she wouldnt even get to say goodbye. 

Back at the Club house the other members of SAMCRO couldnt hide their shock at the revelation that Delaney had Jax’s Crow. “You marked her?” Clay nearly exploded. “You marked her as shes not even your old lady?!” Gemma didnt even jumped to her sons defence as Clay shoved Jax hard. “Its not like that. It just happened!” Jax didnt bother trying to explain. There was so much more they didnt know about his and Delaneys relationship. “But what if she wants to be with another guy? Maybe another member?” Jax lunged for the prospect at the thought of his girl being with someone else. “O-or E-even a-another guy. J-just a normal regular guy?” Juice smacked Half sack around the head for his stupidity as Opie pulled Jax back from ripping the prospect apart. “Can we please focus on trying to find her? Every minute she’s with that psycho is another minute we are closer to him Killing her.” Gemma refocused everyones attention back on the screen trying to find anything that looked familiar in the room. The needed to work out where this Idiot would take her. Jax mentally made one promise as he watched Delaneys terrified eyes. Once he had her safe in his arms. There was no way he was ever letting her go.

[dreamer213]

Broken machines: Lights the dark

Chapter 2 Beautiful Night

In dark quiet room a young man sits atop his bed waiting. The room itself is opulent and pristine, a queen size bed with silk sheets, oak wood floor, a gorgeous antique armoire full of designer clothing, a full length mirror, silver trend curtains, an ornately detailed desk, bookshelf filled with materials on business, culture, and the arts and even a bath en-suite. Truly a scene ripped straight from a magazine with it’s presentation and uniform coloring. Nothing but dark blues, grays, and whites as far as the eye could see, it gives off a very chic and vintage feel but such a cold color scheme leaves little room for light to enter. With darkness of night sky peeking through the window It is as though the room itself becomes like snow, beautiful and magnificent in appearance but cold and devoid of life. The same can be said for the boy, smooth white hair set neat and tidy in a simple but elegant cut, a long and slender figure with good posture and a gorgeous face with high cheek bones, full lips, a perfect jaw line, long lashes, and beautiful deep blue eyes. But behind those beautiful eyes lays a cold and empty stare, no youthful joy or warmth to speak of, just the cold stare of empty soul. If not for his breathing and movements he could be mistaken for a porcelain doll, left in it’s display never to be moved or play with but to be held up and admired. But that is not important right now. No, what matters right now is if Weiss’s found the back doors they left open for her and made her escape yet.

It’s been a while she should be long gone by now, if she hasn’t left yet it won’t be long before Father finds her then Gods know what he’ll will do. I mean getting caught trying to escape the city after nearly killing a defenseless woman at a public event over some unkind remarks. Cleaning up this mess is going to be hell on its own but if Father finds her trying to run away He’ll-

Whitley tenses up and grips his biceps through his sleeves, there’s a dazed look in his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes some deep breath, and calms himself.

No, I can’t think like that now. I have to believe that she followed through, that she ran away pre her usually sanctimonious behavior. I mean what did she think she was going to achieve by acting like that. Did she think that was going to change their minds? Did she really think that screaming like a child and losing control of her powers was going to do anything but cause chaos. If General Ironwood hadn’t been there we all could been killed by that monster. But no, even after fighting Grimm and seeing how terrifying they are first hand, she still never once gave a thought to what the consequences of her actions would be for anyone but herself. But then again that just might be who she is now. Doesn’t matter if she to her if she’s right or wrong, if she feels attacked she’ll just lash out either physical or verbal. With all her talk of restoring our family name I never thought she would do something like this. I never thought she would go this far but then again I never thought she’d treat me like an enemy. I try my best to engage with her whenever I could and she accuses me of wanting to her get disinherited and acts like I’ve stolen her role away from her. Really? She thought I would want the life both she and Winter ran away from the first chance they could. Seriously? What do I gain from her failure, living at home with a drunk for mother, a tyrant father, and a staff of people traumatized from working with them. Having my every move monitored and commanded by a man who cares more about money than human life. The enormous amount of work that comes with preparing to take over a company of such great magnitude and whatever grunt work Father doesn’t feel like doing. OH! Let’s not forget the fact that you’ll never truly be in charge as Father will surely keep you trapped under his heel until the day he dies! A life as puppet to a man whose dragged our family name through the dirt trapped in a house colder than the coldest of blizzard. Yes Weiss, I so desperately wanted you to run away to live your dreams so I could live your nightmare.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” “WHERE DID THAT WORTHLESS BRAT GO!”

Whitley hears his father screaming down the hall, the screaming continues for almost an hour until it’s becomes clear that Weiss has escaped. For moment everything’s quite as though the entire manor has become frozen in time. But not long after the silence there’s a crash then another and another. The commotion grows louder and louder with every passing second until the shirks of manor staff become just loud as the havoc Jacques Schnee is wreaking.

Whitley: Looks like it’s time to clean up the mess.

Whitley gets up and walks out of his room towards the commotion. As he gets closer and closer as follows his father’s path of destruction. Broken glass, fallen paintings, and décor pieces smashed and scattered across the floor the halls are in shambles. When he finally reaches his father the situation is much worse than he expected. Jacques has completely lost his composure, he’s throwing things, screaming wildly, his face is beet red and his eyes are bulging. The servants are trying their best to calm down while trying to avoid getting hit. They try and try but nothing they do seems to calms him. As this struggle continues Whitley approaches them, he quietly walks up behind them. He stands there waiting for an opportunity to grab his father’s attention.

Jacques: AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH SHE DARED TO DEFY ME LIKE THIS!

Whitley: Father please, you need to calm down the stress isn’t good for—

Before he can get another word out an object goes flying past Whitley’s head. It was a small antique clock a gift from a business associate. His father Jacques Schnee, who was now facing him, had thrown it within an inch of his own son’s head. Jacques stalks over towards Whitley, getting closer and closer until he is standing over his son and stares directly into his eyes.

Jacques: What did you say?

Whitley: Stay calm, stay focused, you have to see this to an end before things get worse. I said you should calm down you shouldn’t be stressing yourself over such a minor issue. It’s not good for your health.

Jacques: And do tell me Whitley, how is your sister running away a “minor issue”.

Whitley: Well she’s already been disinherited and made a public spectacle of herself, there’s no real need for her to be at the manor anymore. That and when people ask about her and how she was punished you can say she was kick out and thrown to the streets for her awful behavior. For most that were present at that party the very idea of being cut off is the stuff of nightmares, hearing that the heiress to Schnee dust fortune got herself thrown out for her reckless mistakes should help calm the ruckus Weiss created.

For a moment everyone pauses, they hold their breath waiting for the elder Schnee’s reaction. After what feels like hours Jacques puts his hand above Whitley’s head. He brings it down and begins to slow pat his son’s head.

Jacques: Good job Whitley, you always have your mind in the right place when I need you to.

Whitley: Of course Father, I’m always thinking of what’s best for the Schnee legacy.

Jacques: Good, now then get this mess cleaned up I need to go have a talk with Klein. I just know that dog had a hand in this.

Whitley: Yes Father, I’ll have the staff get this up right away.

Jacques gives an approving nod then walks away. As soon as his step can no longer be heard and he is out of earshot the servants all breathe a sigh of relief and start cleaning up. Whitley walks down the hall, searching for someone. After roughly half an hour up and down the second floor Whitley finally finds the person he’s been looking for, Mary Shellor.

Mary Shellor has been working at the Schnee Manor for several years. When she first arrived no one expected her to last very long but to their surprise she acclimated to the environment rather quickly. She was also a very diligent worker, never making a mistake more then once. And because of her skill, not long after her hiring Mary was promoted to one of the most important and most difficult positions in the manor, Willow’s personal maid. She’d become Willow’s shadow following and serving her wherever she may go unless dismissed. During her first year as Willow’ maid also sought out and obtained another role, or rather a long term investment. You see after observing the family for a time it became clear to Mary which child would inherit the family fortune. The children, Winter, Weiss, and Whitley, had been raised quite incorrectly for their natures. Like wolves raised as show dogs ,they were trained to be obedient, intelligent, and outstanding but because of their strong willed and fierce natures they could never truly be tamed. First and second born were allowed enough freedom to want for more and seek an end to their captivity even if it meant losing everything. Eventuality they were able to beard their fangs and break free of their chains. But the third born, the son, was not allowed such opportunities, No Jacques had learned from his past mistakes he wasn’t letting this one get away. Whitley was kept closer, his chains made tighter, and cage made much smaller then his predecessors. And yet Mary could still see the wolf in him, though different from his sisters it was still there. Unlike his sisters he couldn’t attack or run from his situation so the boy did the only thing he could and did it well, he played along. He played the role of Father’s loyal dog so well that even his sister believed the act without question but unbeknownst to her or their father beneath that mask Whitley’s fangs were growing strap, he was waiting. Whitley knows when he’s at a disadvantage he knows when to act and when to retreat, he knows how to play games, the game of Atlas politics, his father’s games, and the games of the business world. The day Whitley would strike would be the day everything would be returned to a true Schnee, one who knew how to survive in this world, who knew the mistakes of the past and how not to repeat them. Mary wanted to be on the right side when that day came and so she became Whitley’s eyes and ears in and outside of the manor as long as he promised to keep her in mind when the time came. That was their argument one Mary never doubted would play out in her favor.

Whitley: Mary where’s Mother?

Mary: The Mistress has retreated to the library. After the shouting started she ran inside and hid. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she dismissed me.

Whitley: Thank you Mary, stay here I’ll be back in a moment.

Mary: Yes, Young master

Whitley walks pass her towards the library, once at the doors he pulls them open only to find that the lights are off and the scent of alcohol is heavy in the air. Whitley follow the scent deeper and deeper into the library, gagging slightly the closer he gets, as he draws nearer to the source he finds a trail of wine bottles.

Whitley: They’re all empty, she’s close.

He picks up the bottles as he follows the trail until he finds a blanket covered figure sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. Whitley puts the bottles down and slowly approaches the figure, small sobs escape it as he drew closer, he kneels down in front of them with his hands on his knees. He then gently pulls the blanket off the figure to reveal his mother Willow Schnee, sobbing and trembling beneath the blanket she’s wrapped herself in.

Whitley: It’s over Mother, Father’s gone back to his office. You can go back to your room now he won’t be coming out for some time.

Whitley holds out his hand towards Willow, with a shaky hand Willow grabs onto her son. Whitley grabs onto tightly, wraps his free arm around her shoulders and pulls her up. He steadies her as she gets on her feet, and guides her through the darkness and into the hallway. Once they’re out out of the library he hands Willow off to Mary.

Whitley: Take her back to her room she can barely walk, make sure to leave a bucket by her bed. And don’t let her have anything else tonight she has too much in her system already. She’s also left a good amount of empties on floor again, have someone clean those up before Father’s next reading hour.

Mary: Of course Young Master, we’ll have everything clean and in order before Master Jacques get up for breakfast.

Whitley:Thank you Mary , that will be all for tonight.

This was why Mary chose to put her faith in the boy, for as cold and defensive as Whitley was he was also incredibly loyal. Whenever the Master flew off the handle the Young Master would do everything in his power to calm him down and keep him calm for as long as possible. At first Mary thought this was more his loyal dog act but after a few more incidents it was clear what he was doing. Whitley would never sacrifice another’s safety for his own. His true purpose for playing the Master’s game was not to obtain power but peace and freedom from the chains that bind this manor and the people in it.

With that Mary and Willow depart towards Willow’s bedroom while Whitley retreats his own. Once there he closes the door behind himself and pressing his back against the door. He takes a deep breath then slumps down the door, gets into the fetal position and starts to sob. He cries and weeps for a long, long time, until his face is red and his voice horse. Once he finally he stops Whitley gets up and goes to his ensuite to clean himself up. After a long bath he puts on his sleepwear and lays down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling until he finally succumbs to his own exhaustion and falls into a dreamless sleep.

[alpaca-writes]

Flashback Fever #3

Thank you to @myst-in-the-mirror for giving me a good reason to fill in a small portion of Arch’s backstory!

Because this takes place before Arch comes out, their pronouns are altered to she/ her- but their deadname is never revealed. In fact, I don’t even know what it is/ was.

Xx. 

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

COKE AND COTTON CANDY

      The ice cream was melting down the back of her hand. It was a day perfect for a trip to the spray park and then to the corner store. Her mom had asked Miranda to take her out for the day with her daughter to sort a few things out at home. Uncle Arty was in town and had been staying with them for the last week and a half. He’d be heading up north again in another week or so to return to the oil patch. This time however, there was something off about him; constantly stressed out. That morning during breakfast as she hunkered over some Fruity Hoops, he had accused her of hiding the instant coffee on him. She didn’t know where the instant coffee was- she was ten.

     Her mom didn’t let her drink coffee, let alone instant. Not that she would ever want to. It smelled bad and tasted worse.

     Her tongue licked the blue and pink cotton candy mixture right off her knuckles as Jess talked about her newest thing-

     “It comes with the whole set- doctor’s outfit, the stethoscope, and the teeniest little band-aids- they’re sooo cute!”

     “Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” she commented, swallowing some cotton candy flavoring down, “but like, if we go back to your house, are you going to actually let me play with the Barbies or are you just gonna play and make me watch again?”

     Jess looked at the ice cream dripping off her hand and onto the sidewalk.

     “Mm, well, that depends… Only if you wash your hands first.”

     “I’ll wash my hands!”

     “Alright… Then I’ll let you be Ken.”

     “ ‘kay cool. Can I torture him again? Rip off his legs?”

     “No!” Jess wailed. Her blonde pigtails threatened to decapitate her friend right there on the street as she shook her head. “He’s my doll!”

     “But your Barbie Doctor can just stitch him back up, can’t she?”

     “I don’t want Ken to be stitched up!”

     Her ice cream was finished, and unflatteringly, she ate the waffle cone that came with it. Perhaps she should have picked the bowl like Jess did, but… the cone was really the best part.

     “Okay fine,” she sighed, giving in. “I promise I won’t murder Ken.”

     Jess tapped her shoulder as they turned the corner- something was happening at the end of the block, just outside the small blue bungalow. Clothing, boxes, just random items were being tossed out onto the lawn. A man stood screaming at the front door- insults and indecipherable comments spewed out one after the other.

     “Uncle Arty?!” The girl ran forward, crossing the street without a thought to check for traffic and caused one driver to lay on the horn.

“Sorry! Sorry…” she continued until she stood on the lawn. Jess followed up behind her, and then Miranda came out the apartment complex nearby to watch the drama unfolding.

“You’re a fucking bitch, Char! You don’t just toss family into the street!”

Their mother’s voice shrilly came back through the screen door.

“If you have money for cocaine then you have money to pay me rent!”

“Wow. Thanks a lot- tossing out your brother with an addiction, that’s a new low for you, sis- I’ve- I’ve been working on it, you know!”

“Yeah right, I bet you are,” she replied callously, hauling out a cardboard box full of old junk from Arty that had no business being there any longer. “You say that every time, and every time I fall for it just to find it hiding somewhere else in my house”-

Charlotte stopped, seeing her daughter staring up at her from the lawn, and then saw the shocked, and judgement ridden face of Miranda standing behind her. Miranda ushered Jessica away from her friend and returned home without a word, though it was likely that Jess would be told to stay far, far away from that house from now on.

Arthur turned, and wiped his nose. His face red with embarrassment and shame and anger all battling it out at once.

Charlotte called from the top of the stairs,

“Baby, get inside.”

“What are you doing?” She challenged angrily. “Let Uncle Arty stay”-

“No love, he can’t. He’s moving out.”

“You’re forcing him out!”

Arthur let them argue over him for another few seconds before he stopped his niece from challenging Charlotte any further.

“Kiddo, it’s okay. I know a place downtown.”

Her tears were hot against her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized how much she had started to cry- how the sheer panic had rooted her to the spot. Arthur strode up to her.

“No! Not near my daughter!” Charlotte howled protectively.

Arthur halted and regarded her, betrayed by his sister once more.

“I can’t even say goodbye to my niece?” he threw up his hands. “FINE.”

He bent over, beginning to load up an old pack full of his strewn clothing that was left out on the lawn in the rage filled clean out.

He caught his niece’s eye as he did so, unable to manage a smile to give them any sort of comfort and instead rolled his eyes, with a sour expression.

“-----!”

She heard her name. With one last glance to Uncle Arty, she ran inside the house, forgetting everything that she had planned with Jess for the rest of the day.

[sailorbellewrites]

More Than You Can Chew

characters— taehyung x reader (aka kiddo) (ft. members of bts)

summary— taehyung has been (not so quietly) obsessed with the young rapper who eats glazed donuts at the corner table every saturday night for some time now. but everyone thinks dating her is biting off more than he can chew. 

information— one shot. fluff. femme reader. character inspired by megan thee stallion, cardi b, and lil’ kim. longer than previous works. same universe as “no limit”, now titled the baking news au. there will be a second part to this titled jawbreaker, which will be released later this month.

warnings— strong language. mean & aggressive characters. casual mentions of sex and sexual behavior (but no smut because i’m shy). excessive mentions of the color pink. vague mentions of other celebrities and influencers. taehyung is an adorable tryhard.

more than you can chew—

On the outside looking in, Yoongi was kind of an asshole. He didn’t speak much and when he did, he never had anything nice to say. His face was void of most emotions, except for the sour expression that would develop when Hoseok laughed too loud in the backseat of your car. The happiest you had ever seen him was when the aforementioned male got too excited during a cypher and fell off the stage. Yoongi laughed hysterically for 30 minutes, much to Hoseok’s annoyance. He spent more time in the studio than he did with his fiancée, a fact that resulted in her calling off the wedding three times in the past year. He always wore black, even in the dead of summer. On the inside looking in, he was much worse. That’s why it’s all too easy to tell him “no” when he asks for a favor.

“Awww, come on Kiddo.”

“Fuck off.”

“I never ask you for shit—”

“So why ruin a good thing and start now?” Yoongi rolls his eyes at your words, body falling into the chair across from you. You eye his limp form slowly, appraising the black hoodie and ripped jeans combination he often gravitated to. He looked good, you had to admit. He always did. Yoongi had the bad boy aesthetic down pat, to the point where it came off as effortless. It wasn’t any wonder as to why girls threw themselves at him during club appearances. If you didn’t know what he was really like (and if he wasn’t dating your friend), you might have tried to bed him too. But you mostly envied Yoongi’s appearance, envied how easy he made dressing and rapping and just about everything look. You were always walking a fine line between putting forth too much effort and being called a try hard bitch or putting forth too little and being accused of looking for a handout. You sighed; being a woman in your industry was tough. “Where’s Hope?”

“DJ owes him money or something. He was pissed.” You shake your head, knowing just how intense an angry Hoseok could be. While you could only count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him truly filled with rage, each new moment was much more scary than the last. The last time ended with him put in handcuffs, though you were able to talk the cop out of actually taking him to the station. “Not important. You need to do this thing for me.”

“No.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

You snort at the cheesy line he deploys. “I’m telling your fiancée you said that.” Yoongi shrugs, as though he was not at all scared of his lover’s wrath. As much as he claimed to hate the drama of their relationship, he often did nothing to stop it. In fact, you would find him actively stoking the flames. You suspect he gets off on it. “You’re such a dickhead. You know you don’t deserve her, right?”

“Whatever. If you do this thing, I’ll buy you donuts everyday for a week.”

You slam your hands flat on the table in front of you, using the extra stability to lean yourself closer to him. “You buy me donuts everyday for a month, original glazed only, and you pay full price,” you bargain in a low voice. You are fully aware of how ridiculous you look, perched on the table like some low level gangster, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Shame was a feeling no longer within you.

Yoongi scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head before you even finish your proposal. “I have never paid full price here and I’m not gonna start now.”

You push yourself off of your table, throwing your hands up in the air. “Take it or leave it!”

“You don’t even know what I want you to do.”

“Take it or leave it!” You repeat even louder.

Yoongi curses under his breath, knowing he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He shoots a quick glance behind him, instantly met with the wide expectant eyes of the bakery worker now playing cashier. Looking back at you, he sees you pretending to check your nails—long, pink, and sharp—as though you were bored by him. He scoffs again, wondering why he let his partner drag him into this situation before stating, “Okay, fine. Two donuts, everyday, for a month. Will you do it?”

You smirk, crossing your arms in victory as you lean back in your chair. “Sure. Now what am I doing for you?”

“Going on a date with your hero.”

.

.

Kim Taehyung has had a crush on you for some time now. It was no secret to anyone who frequented the small yellow bakery; he’d been smitten from the first day—or rather night—that you walked into Baking News. You looked like a model as you strut through the building, high waisted leather pants accentuating your curves and cleavage pushed up to ten in a lacy pink crop top. You ordered two original glazed donuts before he could even stutter out the pun filled greeting Seokjin had come up with, smirk settled on your lips as though you knew just how much you affected him. When he gave them to you half off because it was so close to closing, you called him your hero. He thought your voice sounded like honey. Taehyung was caught in a trance the rest of the night night, and quickly found himself being wrapped up in thoughts of you every time you walked through those glass doors.

He’s asked you out a few times. Movies, cafes, museums, and the park were all on the table for you to pick up at any time, but you never did. You had every excuse under the sun for why you couldn’t go out with him; you were always too tired, too busy, too unavailable. It made sense, in some ways. Rappers were like that. Or at least, that’s what he told himself to ease the sting of rejection. He held onto his hope that you would eventually say yes because, in truth, you had never given him a concrete “no”. Attached to every excuse of why you couldn’t go out with him was the promise of a “next time”. That “next time” is what kept him going, kept him giving you half priced glazed donuts even when it wasn’t closing time, kept his attraction to you alive.

Naturally, though, he got tired of waiting. Seeing Seokjin’s relationship flourish right before his eyes only made him want you more. He wished he could sit you on the counter and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe, wished he could bring you to the kitchen and “ice cakes” (if he was using Seokjin’s terminology). Taehyung was tired of being kept at arm's length. He couldn’t understand what he was missing; what you didn’t see in him. He knew you found him attractive. He heard you say it to Yoongi’s girlfriend before, hearing your “definitive ranking of the Baking News men” as he wiped down the table behind you. But attraction clearly wasn’t enough. Not for you, it seemed.

Luck was on Taehyung’s side one sunny Sunday morning in April, when Yoongi’s girlfriend rushed into the shop with an embarrassed look on her face. He had known the girl people affectionately called Boo for years, having gone to college with her and her sister, but they weren’t close. She was much more attached to Jungkook (in spite of her relationship with Yoongi), having spent lots of time outside of the bakery walls with the younger man. Thus, the beeline she made for Taehyung was strange; even stranger was the desperate plea she frantically whispered in his ear asking if he could give her two dozen glazed donuts and two cups of hot chocolate for free.

“You know I can’t do th—”

“Okay, but just lis—”

“Boo, my boss would kill m—

"I will lose the maid of honor at my wedding if you don’t do this for me!” She shouted out in clear cut frustration, only to slap her own hand over her mouth in shock. She looked around the bakery pitifully and, noting all of the eyes trained on her, lowered her voice. “Look, Yoongi and I got into it at the club last night—bad. He threw my wallet somewhere. We couldn’t find it. I’ll pay you back when I get all my new cards, I promise. You know I’m good for it. But if I don’t bring some kind of peace offering to her, she won’t be in the wedding.”

Taehyung’s eyes squinted in confusion. “I don’t get why you need donuts for this friend when you’re fighting with your boyfriend.”

“Well he’s my fiancé  for starters.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung responded with an eye roll, motioning his hand for the woman in front of him to continue.

“And… I may have forgotten that I was her ride back home. She ended up walking by herself… in the rain.”

“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?” Taehyng chided, now understanding the source of her odd behavior. “I understand why your friend would want to quit your wedding. You’re an asshole.”

“I am not—listen, that's not the point. The point is… I need the donuts and the hot chocolate. That’s the only way I can start getting back on her good side. If I don’t, she’s never gonna talk to me again. She holds a grudge like you wouldn’t believe. She’s worse than Yoongi.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue, not exactly moved by her story, but knowing she wouldn’t take another “no” easily. “Why don’t you ask Jungkook? He won’t get fired, no matter how much he messes up. It’s too high of a risk for me.”

“I would, but she says you’re the only one who makes the hot chocolate right. Something about always putting caramel or cinnamon in there and that Jungkook doesn’t know how to do it. It has to be you.” Taehyung’s throat dried up at her words, understanding that this friend wasn’t just some random girl with a donut obsession; this friend was you.

Taehyung liked working the cafe side of the bakery more than the others. He didn’t hate icing cakes or kneading dough, but he thoroughly enjoyed the interaction that came from making the quick drinks and packaging small desserts. He could also keep his eye on you more easily when working the counter. That’s how he learned that you loved warm, sweet drinks, particularly when you were having a bad day. However, you found the bakery’s hot chocolate missing something; so Taehyung started experimenting with adding extra flavors to your order. When you told him that you liked the vanilla/cinnamon combination the best, he always made sure to add those for you, regardless of if you asked for it specifically or not. He didn’t do this for anyone else though; didn’t care to see anyone else smile the way you did when you lifted the cup to your lips and took a sip. So it had to be you that Yoongi’s girlfriend was talking about, because you were the only person who got special hot chocolate.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, voice confident, “I’ll get the things ready for you now. Should take about five minutes.”

“Wait… really?” The woman asked, a big smile spreading on her face. “Oh my god, I’m so relieved. You are saving my weddin—no, you are saving my life!  I’ll pay you back in like a week, tops. I promise! I’ll even pay extra.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Taehyung said quickly, throwing his hands up. “I’ll cover it. Money is not that important. It would be like 15 thousand at most. You don’t need to stress over 15 thousand.”

“Oh,” she responded with a pout, voice deflating. “Well… I can’t do nothing… that would be using you. I’m not Yoongi; I don’t use people. What can I give you to pay you back if not money?” 

Taehyung shrugs, unsure of what the woman in front of him could possibly give him before it dawns on him. “A date.”

“A date? With me?”

He scoffs. “With your friend. Get her to agree to go out with me just once and we’re more than even.” For a moment, Boo looks as though she is going to say no. Taehyung knew it would be a hard sell for you, not only accepting your friend’s apology, but then agreeing to go on a date to pay for that apology. But he can see her resolve strengthen and she gives him a firm nod.

That’s how Taehyung ends up sitting across from you on a chilly Tuesday night, watching you fiddle with the tangled up wires of your earbuds and phone charger. Your studio was small, but brighter than Taehyung anticipated. The walls were white, lit up by pink fairy lights that had small polaroid photos pinned between each bulb. The love seat and rolling desk chair you were currently sitting in were a pale grey color, but held bright pink and yellow throw pillows. On your desk were two white computer monitors, a set of studio monitors, a pink MIDI controller, a black control surface, and a set of rose gold over ear headphones with the word ‘kiddo’ engraved on each side. The whole space was, for lack of a better term, girly. Far girlier than you had ever presented yourself to Taehyung; but, as you told him, the design was on purpose. 

“They’re so dark all the time,” you murmur, followed by a short ‘ah’ as you finally get all the cords untangled and manage to plug in your phone. You turn in your chair to face him, annoyed expression on your face as you continue, “every single one of them have these ugly black walls and stupid pictures of naked girls all over the place. I swear, half of them are hard every time they record. It’s suffocating and awkward. When I finally got the money to get my own studio, I had to make sure the space prioritized my comfort. You know?”

“I do,” Taehyung whispers back in awe. He decides he loves listening to you talk. Your voice was already the sweetest that he had ever heard, but your way with words was even better. The way you put words together always garnered a reaction from him, even if you weren’t trying. It wasn’t any wonder why you became a rapper. “How do the guys in your crew feel when they record here?”

“Hope doesn’t mind it, but everyone else thinks it’s excessive. I get it. It doesn’t fit the whole Kiddo image.”

“Why do they call you Kiddo, anyway? That’s nothing like your real name.” Taehyung asks, placing his elbows on his knees and holding his own face in his hands as he waits patiently for your answer. 

You hum as you think of it, mirroring his pose in your chair and Taehyung didn’t think you could get any cuter than you were now. You were a far cry from the barely there outfits he often saw you wear in the bakery before (or occasionally after) performances, wearing a pink sweater dress that was two sizes too big if the way it swallowed you up was any indication. He just wanted to hold you in his arms, but he wasn’t sure you were there yet. It had only been two hours that he had been in the studio in which you insisted the date take place and you had kept your physical affection to a minimum. At most, you poked his shoulder and cheek when teasing him about the puns he had to say when taking orders at work. However, the conversation flowed so naturally and you hadn’t asked him to leave yet; he was sure the night would end with you feeling something more for him than before.

“You know the movie Kill Bill? The main character’s real name is Beatrix Kiddo.”

“You named yourself after a movie assassin?”

“Oh no. That would be so generic and cliche. Suga actually picked out the name. When I first started out, I was going by something completely different. But I covered this song called "Chill Bill" that got a lot of attention a couple years ago and someone commented that I… I think they said I killed or murdered the beat like Kiddo or something. I can’t really remember the exact thing too well. Anyway, Suga thought that it would be a good voice tag and then the tag became a nickname and… well here we are. I’m Kiddo now.”

“Can I listen to the song that inspired the name?”

You sit up abruptly. “Hell no. That song is awful. I’m so much better now.”

“You can’t invite me to your studio and not let me listen to your music. Be a better date,” he teases, causing you to release a small giggle. “You have to let me listen to something at least. What are you working on?”

You shake your head with a small smirk, turning back to face your desk. Your hand grips the mouse and you click around on one of the screens as you move to pull up your latest song. However, you still question him, asking, “Are you sure you want to listen? It’s kind of raunchy.”

“I can handle it.”

“My lyrics aren’t for the faint of heart, Taehyung.”

“Give it to me,” he requests excitedly and you instantly press play. He lets out a loud laugh as soon as he hears the lyrics, instantly understanding their intent even though they are in English. Your warning was more than necessary, as you spit out graphic depictions of sexual acts in a cocky tone of voice. The dichotomy of your current appearance with the words coming out of the speakers only makes him laugh harder, as his brain fails to connect the two personas together.

You stop the song, turning to face him with a shocked look on your face. “Are you really laughing at my music? Seriously?”

“No, no!” He chokes out, waving his hands in the air to show his innocence as his laughter winds down into sporadic giggles. “It’s not like that. I don’t think it’s bad. I’m just surprised by it.” He can tell from the look on your face that you don’t believe him. And Taehyung isn’t sure what comes over him in that moment, but he suddenly finds himself rocking forward to cradle your face in both of his hands as though he was handling fine china. You tense in his grasp, but make no moves to pull away as he whispers, “Don’t look at me like that. I wouldn’t lie to you. The song is good. You just look so much… softer than that song right now. It caught me off guard; but I would never laugh at you. I like you too much to do that.”

His sincerity has you reeling. Although he stopped speaking, he doesn’t let you go. Instead, his eyes study your face like you’re a piece of artwork, committing every new detail he finds to memory as though he’s worried that he’ll never see you again. His eyes finally settle on your lips, becoming lidded as you are able to guess what he wants. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You question quietly.

“I want to. Are you going to let me?”

“Yes.” He gives you two slow blinks before he bends his head down to slot his lips against yours. 

It’s soft at first, the gentle pressure of his lips coaxing your own open as though he’s still asking for permission. When you angle your head up to move your lips against his better, he lets out a small whimper that sends a shiver up your spine. It continues on like this for a few seconds before he slips tongue inside of your mouth. All hell breaks loose within you then, as you wrap your arms around his neck to get closer to him. This act causes him to finally release your face, hands dropping to your waist. The kiss gets deep, tongues wrestling with each other as he fights against you to take the lead. When the struggle continues for longer than he would like, his hands firmly grip your waist and pull you forward off of your chair until you're straddling his thighs. He wins the battle when he pulls your hips down at the same time that he grinds his hips up. The friction is more intense than you were prepared for, only then remembering the only barrier between your center and his jeans was a thong you had slipped on in haste. He repeats the action once more before pulling away with a big gasp for breath. You rest your forehead against his as you take in deep breaths of your own. You make note of his expression—satisfaction. 

“So is this date as bad as you imagined it being?” He whispers against your lips, fingers running up and down your back gently as he breathing finally calms.

You pout at his question. “Why would you ask that?”

“You avoided it for so long.”

“I… I was… I don’t know,” you stutter out, unsure of how to respond to the call out. It’s hard to think when the room is so hot, when he’s still so close to you, when his crotch is still pressed firmly against your own. “I just didn’t… wanna make things awkward?”

“Are things awkward now?”

“Not really. No.”

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About dating me.”

“You ask a lot of questions, Kim Taehyung. It’s been one date.”

“I just know what I want,” he responds seriously, voice dropping an octave as he makes eye contact with you and holds your stare. “I like you. I like you more now than I did before. I want you. Do you want me too?”

“I… yeah. I guess I like you too. We can… Let’s see where this goes.”

.

.

“Here.” 

You jump up to your feet at the sound of a familiar deep voice. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of a pink cardboard cup wrapped up in pale, ring clad fingers. “You came,” you note, reaching for the cup as you get your first real look at Taehyung that night. He easily lets you have it, hand slipping behind your neck to pull you into for a quick hug. He releases you with a kiss to your temple, a lazy smile sitting on his face that you admittedly find more attractive than you should. You often found yourself wishing that he wasn’t so outwardly handsome; dealing with an attractive partner always causes issues.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He questions. You shrug. Taehyung was easily the most attentive person you ever dealt with. You woke up to emoji filled good morning texts every morning and didn’t hit your bed without a sweet phone call wishing you a good night. He commented on every picture you posted to Instagram, was five minutes early to every date, and sent food to your studio when he knew you were too busy to eat something real. You would have felt suffocated by his intensity if not for the lackadaisical way he went about being with you: most dates ending on his old couch, watching mind numbing TV shows as he cradled you in his arms to talk about nothing. He made you feel precious and that worried you. You were left wondering how he would treat you when he finally realized you weren’t worth your weight in gold.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Why?”

“Boo told me you were stressing.”

“Does this have cinnamon and vanilla in it?”

He rolls his eyes at you in a mock display of annoyance. “Doesn’t it always?”

“My hero,” you coo gently at him, voice upping in pitch as though you were speaking to a child. He doesn’t mind your patronizing tone, responding with a megawatt smile that would make even the most stoic person happy. You take a small sip, letting out a small breath some of the tension you were feeling begins to melt away.

“What were you doing back here?” Taehyung asks, concern pulling at the edges of his words, despite how casual he attempted to sound. He was never good at hiding his emotions when it came to you. You liked that. He never left you guessing at where you stood with him.

“Hiding,” you answer honestly, not ashamed of your actions. You had been crouched behind the club for at least twenty minutes, going over your lyrics and the performance blocking in your head again and again. Rehearsals hadn’t gone well, with Hoseok’s nerves shot due to the knowledge that his favorite producer would be in the building and Yoongi still pissed about some argument he had gotten into with his girlfriend. You also weren’t at your best, anxious about having Taehyung in the audience. He had seen videos of you performing before, but he had never been in the audience. You didn’t know what he would think of the environment and the people that it attracted. He claimed he didn’t scare easy, but everybody did.

“Hiding from what?”

“Just people. You know how I feel about people.”

“You must be glad I’m not just people then, huh?” He joked, hand sneaking over to yours and lacing your fingers together. You let out a non-committal hum that has him tightening his grip in faux warning. “Stop pretending that you don’t like me.”

“What time is it?”

He looks at his watch. “11:34.”

“I’m on in like 40 minutes,” you told him, moving forward to pull him to the front of the club. He lets you lead him, submitting to you more easily than most men would in his situation. Whereas many of the men who found themselves lucky enough to get close to you tried to wear you like an accessory, molding you against their form to make them appear more interesting than they were, Taehyung found solace staying in the background. It was nice.

“There you are!” Hoseok yells as you approach, his voice far higher in pitch than what was normal even for him. He stands in the center of your crew, wearing a distressed look on his face as he scolds you with the same intensity of an overworked stay-at-home mom. “We go up soon. Where have you been?”

“Hiding.”

“Not the fucking time for hiding dumbass,” he snaps at you, making Yoongi laugh. 

The palm of your hand disconnects from Taehyung’s and lands on Hoseok’s chest with a loud thwap before you can blink. The following five hits are more deliberate though, punctuating your words as you shout, “Don’t call me a dumbass!” Hoseok lets out rough grunts at the hits, responding with a harsh shove that sends you flying back into Taehyung. You let out a snarky laugh.

It had taken Taehyung some time to get used to this aspect of your relationship with your friends. They all treated you as though you were one of the guys, pushing and shoving you around with glee in spite of the fact that some of them were much bigger than you. You always matched their energy though, whether physically or verbally. You never backed down, which is why they seemed to respect you. Still, it was hard for Taehyung to watch you roughhouse with them. He was afraid there would be a day it would go too far, although you were adamant that you could always handle yourself.

“Alright now, children, let’s calm down,” Yoongi said in a condescending tone. “We have to work soon, no fighting on stage.”

“Are you ready?” Hoseok asks, ignoring Yoongi’s words.

“Are you ready?” You parrot back, much to his clear annoyance. “I’m not the one who forgot my lyrics today. Are you ready?”

“Let’s just go inside,” Yoongi groaned out, making his way towards the entrance of the club in a way that demanded everyone else follow suit. 

A VIP section of tables is where you lead Taehyung, sitting him down in a seat next to Yoongi’s girlfriend. “You should be able to see us really well from here,” you note, playing with the rings that adorn his fingers. “Nobody should mess with you either. If they do, tell her,” you instruct, nodding your head towards your friend currently having her own private discussion with Yoongi, “because she’s worse than me.”

“I heard that!” The girl in question yells back. You roll your eyes and press your lips quickly against Taehyung’s own before you make your way to the stage. “Oh fuck, who invited them?” The woman sitting next to him mutters angrily, pointedly staring at three men who walk into the section and take a seat at a table adjacent to where Taehyung is seated. He doesn’t recognize them, though it’s clear from the way others in the section tense up that they aren’t welcome guests. He makes a decision to ignore them, focusing his attention on the stage where a DJ continues to play popular hip hop songs from abroad. 

Suddenly, the lights on the stage brighten up and the music comes to a stop. The DJ begins hyping up the crowd for the upcoming performance and Taehyung is stunned at the amount of excitement people show when your name is mentioned. It multiplies ten fold when a spotlight finally highlights your place on the stage and the performance begins. He’s mesmerized. You handle yourself well. You seem to know exactly when to draw attention to yourself and when to step back and let the others shine. It’s clearly calculated, but you make it look easy. It’s hard for all eyes not to be on you, though. You’re the only woman on stage and the hot pink crop top you’ve chosen to wear makes you stick out amongst the rest of your crew dressed in all black. When you happily dance around Hoseok as a distraction to make the man stutter out his lyrics, Taehyung can’t help but laugh.  

“She’s good, right?” A voice asks, forcing Taehyung’s attention away from you. Next to him stands a large man, muscled arms crossed at his chest and covered in black tattoos. He holds an unimpressed gaze as he stares at the stage, as though he’s seen it all before. “He freaks out everytime she pulls that little stunt. He’s so whipped for her. She needs to just fuck the poor bastard already.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung asks at the same time that Yoongi’s girlfriend shouts, “Why are you over here?”

“Calm down, Boo,” the man states with a light chuckle, eyes still on the stage. “Just here to support my girl.” The man then turns his gaze to Taehyung, “But I guess she’s your girl now, right? I see you all over her Instagram and Twitter. You must be really giving it to her good. She never posts about who she’s fucking.” Taehyung tenses at the man’s words, but does not offer up a response. The man looks back towards the stage with an amused laugh. “Didn’t think she would fuck pretty boys though. Her type is a little more… tough.”

He knows he’s being tested. It has happened more than once. As much as the guys you hung around pretended that they didn’t care about your dating life, they were actually extremely protective over you. There were endless threats whispered into his ear when he found himself in your studio during actual recording sessions. It never bothered him, though. He found it a bit heartwarming that men who would push you down to get the last piece of chicken would also fight for you so easily. But this was different. The man standing beside Taehyung eyes you like a predator stalking prey. It makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.

The performance ends with a bang, the energy in the room still electric as you make your way off the stage. The pride painted on your face as you are stopped by various people in the crowd warms Taehyung’s heart. It’s the happiest that he has ever seen you. You and the guys practically bounce back into the section, still riding the high of a successful performance. However, your happy steps slow to a crawl when you realize who is standing next to him. Of course the one person you didn’t want to see would find his way over to Taehyung. You could see the agitation in Taehyung’s face as the two exchanged words.

Sensing your apprehension, Hoseok throws his arm around your neck happily, leaning most of his body weight on you. “I can punch him if you want,” Hoseok offers lazily, as though it would be all too easy. It would, but you knew that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. “If your pretty boy won’t do it, I mean. It’s been a while since we’ve been in a real fight.”

You shudder slightly under his hold as you remember exactly what happened the last time you got into a fight. Hoseok was still banned from two clubs over that incident. “Calm down, Hope. I don’t wanna get kicked out of another club.”

“No fun,” he whispers in your ear. “Are you gonna go in there and save him?” You release an annoyed scoff at the idea because it’s nowhere near your job to rescue a grown man. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” Hoseok muses. “If I had to guess? Probably your weird bathroom sex kin—oof!” You cut him off with an elbow to the ribs, sighing in relief as he removes himself from you. “Go get your boyfriend before he’s not your boyfriend anymore, asshole.”

“Fine.” You make an effort to straighten your back and set your shoulders back before you start the short journey to where Taehyung is seated next to your ex. You slip your arm through Taehyung’s when you make your way there, only mildly surprised by how quickly he tangles his long fingers through your own and pulls you closer. You ex smirks at the interaction, pleased by the effect he had. “Hey,” you say much more confidently than you feel. 

“Well if it isn’t our favorite girl,” your ex barks out happily, throwing you a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Me and your friend here were just talking about you.” Taehyung quietly grunts at the word ‘friend’ beside you, but neither of you make a move to correct the person standing in front of you. You knew responding to the minor dig would only further feed his ego. “We both had a lot to say.”

“Only nice things, I hope?” You ask, your question pointed more at Taehyung. The boy offers you a reassuring smile in return causing you to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You could only imagine the things that had been said, both true and untrue.

“I was telling your new friend here all of the things we used to do together. He couldn’t believe how wild you used to be. I’m so surprised by how much you’re holding back on him, love. That’s so unlike you.”

“Don’t call me love,” you respond almost robotically. It had become an automatic response to his continued usage of the pet name in recent months. In actuality it had been years since you were with the heavily tattooed man, but Taehyung had no way of knowing that. Past relationships were one of the few topics both of you agreed to stay away from. It would only cause more problems.

“Don’t exaggerate for my benefit,” Taehyung suddenly speaks up, eyeing the man thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” The man hums out.

“Lying is only gonna make you look like more of an asshole.”

“You wish I was lyi—” Before the man can finish his retort, you hear your name being screamed out over the thumping bass of the music. Turning your head, you see a red faced Hoseok running towards you. 

Concern is etched on his features as he rushes out, “We gotta go.” He keeps shifting from left to right like he’s ready to escape from the confines of the roped off section at the drop of a dime. “Yoongi threw a couple bottles and the managers are not happy.”

“He threw a whole bottle?” Taehyung asks in shock at the same time as you shout, “He threw more than one? Again? Fuck me! Why?” Your ex laughs loudly at the news, himself having been a part of a few bottle throwings when he was with you.

“The same reason they always get us kicked out of places,” Hoseok explains with a frustrated eye roll. “You think at this point he would stop inviting exes to shows. Let the rejects stay where they are, right?” Taehyung snorts at Hoseok’s pointed insult towards your ex. You give him a grateful smile for the diss. “Anyways, we gotta leave before they ask for their money back. This gig is paying for my new equipment.”

“Noted.” You tug Taehyung up out of his seat quickly, before turning to your ex one last time. “We gotta go. It was not nice seeing you. Die.” Then the three of you quickly make you way out of the club before things can get even more tense.

The couple is still arguing outside when you exit the venue, Yoongi’s hand firmly wrapped around your best friend’s wrist as she screams at him to let her go. Yoongi’s knuckles are bleeding and you wonder if he cut himself on the glass or punched a wall again. You know better than to ask at this moment. Trying to stop them was a recipe for a disaster. “Fuck this. I’m going home,” Hoseok says frustratedly. He turns to you, forcing a hopeful expression as he asks,“See ya tomorrow?”

“Yup. Don’t be late.” Hoseok nods at you twice and winks at Taehyung before he crosses the street and disappears into the night. 

“Does this always happen?” Taehyung asks suddenly, eyes still on the couple as Yoongi starts to yell back about who actually crossed the line. Taehyung knew that they fought, but he never understood the extent of it. Seeing it in person was a completely different ball game.

“Every single time we go to a club,” you say with a shrug, dropping the hold you have on his hand. “Perks of dating a rapper, I guess. Relationships don’t do well in this environment.” Taehyung’s eyes snap to you at the implication of his words.

“But Yoongi and his girl have been together for years right? It can’t be all bad.”

“And they fight all the time. She breaks up with him constantly. I mean, she’s been my friend for longer than she’s known him and it’s still hard for her to handle all of,” you stop, waving your hand around the wannabe rap boys dressed in baggy clothes, the club, and the drunk girls stumbling down the block before continuing, “all of this. And it only gets worse the more popular you get. No one really wants to deal with this.”

“I do,” he says, not even taking the time to consider your words. “I think I could handle it.”

You eye him carefully, cocking your head to the side as you formulate a response. The truth of your lifestyle was a bitter pill to swallow. Love was often the first casualty of Hip Hop, whether rappers liked to admit it or not. You weren’t sure if your words would ruin the good thing you had going with him. “Taehyung, you saw my ex. All that animosity between us comes from him being insanely jealous of the people around me. He couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m better than your ex.”

“Okay, but it’s not just jealousy that comes with this. Do you really think you could handle guys constantly hitting on me? Slapping my ass on stage? Calling me a whore in diss tracks? Trying to spike my drinks or give me drugs?”

Taehyung moves to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing the front of your body against his own. He sways gently with you in his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead as he thinks. Finally he settles on, “For you, I could handle all of that and more.” He pulls away from you slightly to stare into your eyes deeply, before leaning into to press a kiss against your lips. He pulls back once more to whisper against your lips, “I just want to be with you. I don’t care about the rest.”

“Hmm… you really are my hero.”

.

.

authors note— there will be a continuation of this couple’s story called jawbreaker released later this month. jawbreaker was originally meant to be a part of more than you can chew, but it ballooned past what i imagined and i need more time to finish. hope you enjoyed this and will read jawbreaker when it’s released.

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Ain’t No Rockstar

A/N: It felt like this took me forever to write. But I solved all my problems with it and I’ve decided I’m gonna turn it into a series. Maybe give it one or two more parts, we’ll see. If you lovely people could, I would appreciate it if you could send me gifs cause they never want to load on my wifi. I’m changing a bunch of stuff, like my color and profile pics because I felt like it, and my masterlist is gonna get redone. Just wanted to let you guys know about that before it happens. Requests are open, so send ‘em in and I hope you guys enjoy.

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Slash x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Part 1 of 3 (Maybe)

Summary: Y/n was nothing more than a stressed out makeup artist, at least that all she thought she was. It turns out that she was more than that to one member of the band she was working for. Not only would she have to navigate both his and her feelings, but she would also have to find the courage to seize what she wanted before it disappeared.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Long as hell, language, alcohol, mention of drugs

The smell of hairspray mixed with smoke filled her nostrils as Y/n tested out the bottle. She was going through hairspray like crazy and it didn’t help that half of the bottles wouldn’t work. Pressing the nozzle down, she waited for the sheer mist to appear before turning back to the person sitting in front of her. 

Doing hair and makeup had never been her ideal job. Though, when asked what job that might be, she had no answer. All she knew was what wouldn’t make her happy. She’d learned that running wasn’t for her, neither was waiting tables, and that coffee wasn’t the best drink in the world while yellow didn’t please her eyes. But when she was asked what was for her, what drink was best, and what color pleased her eyes, her mind would go blank. How was she supposed to know the answer to any of those? She’d barely experienced life, She was at the beginning of a journey that had yet to begin.

Y/n sighed as she thought about her “shortcomings”-- as her mother called them. Playing with the auburn hair in front of her, she shaped and teased it to the height she wanted before spraying it with the can in hand. 

Y/n looked at the man sitting in front of her through the mirror, “Is that high enough, Axl?”

Axl didn’t even bother to look, too engrossed by the conversation he was having with his bandmates to care about his hair, and Y/n sighed.  Grabbing the comb off the vanity in front of them, she decided that the hair hadn’t been teased high enough. He would bitch either way: it was either too high or too low. Nevertheless, she began to run the comb against his hair, spraying it as she went along, the toxic mist hitting her in the face as she went along.

Y/n may not have known what she wanted to do with her life, but one thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to deal with rock stars. Glancing at the men around her, she reflected on their dark leather jackets, ripped jeans, ‘I-don’t-care’ attitudes, and wasn’t sure how people put up with them. In her mind, they were like crows. Screeching at the most random of times and doing whatever they pleased, not caring who it upset. Never once in her time of getting them ready for shows or photoshoots had she seen them drink something that wasn’t intoxicating, or manage to stay out of trouble. They were the outcasts, the black cats that people were wary about, and with good reason.

Being outcasts didn’t matter to her, though. Not when they were such assholes. If they weren’t busy pissing each other off, they were pissing everyone else off. On multiple occasions, stylists, photographers, and assistants had quit because they could no longer handle the group. Vices stacked against them or not, they weren’t a bunch of innocent schoolboys, anyone who thought so was a fool. 

“I look like a fucking poodle,” Axl grunted, looking up for the first time and wincing at his appearance. Y/n rolled her eyes, combing out some of the hair. “It’s too big! I don’t want to look like I borrowed a wig from Dolly Parton!”

Her jaw set as a fake smile crossed on her lips and she nodded. “Lower then.”

He smiled. “Yes, lower.”

The smile disappeared once she went back to work, trying to comb out his unruly hair. As she brushed the hair back down, she couldn’t help but think about her shortcomings. It wasn’t that she failed to know what brought her joy, it was all the things she wanted to do. The things that were just out of reach. At one time, she wanted to learn how to surf but that idea went away when she took on the job as a makeup artist. All the time that she thought she had vanished once she started applying people’s makeup and styling their hair. Before that, she had wanted to learn to dance. Her mother had been a ballet dancer, performing for large crowds throughout Europe and the US. The dream of dancing, ballet or not, faded when she realized she couldn’t afford the classes. Time and money were never on her side, nor had they ever been. The only dreams she still held firmly to were ‘foolish’ ones, ones that would get a good laugh from her mother, who had seen the world, and the men around her, who didn't care.

Touching up the combed out hair, she finally set the hairspray and comb down. 

“How about that?” she asked, stepping back to look at her work herself.

He shrugged, “It’ll have to do, I guess.”

Axl stood from the chair and walked over to the couch. Sitting down, he snatched a bottle of whiskey off the table in front of him and drank it as though it were water. Whatever nerves he was trying to numb was nothing in comparison to the stress that was bubbling up inside of her. A drink, a nice, long, refreshing drink that would wash away her problems was what she needed. Anything at all, any fix, permanent or not was what she yearned for.

Y/n turned her attention to the supplies in front of her. Axl was the last of the boys she had to do, meaning it was time for her to pack up and leave and she sure as hell wasn’t complaining, even though she wasn’ going that far. . They were on tour and this was just one of the many photo shoots they’d be doing, with a show a few hours later that she’d need to get them ready for. She picked up the combs and brushes, dropping them into a bag for her to sort out later, before shoving eyeliner and powder into her makeup case, not caring if they were in their correct spots. 

“Are you gonna stay for the show tonight?” Saul asked, fiddling with his cigarette in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

She shook her head in response, not bothering to turn around. 

“Why not? It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

Y/n sighed, shutting the makeup case after checking the counter to make sure she didn’t leave anything out, “I can think of a million other things I’d rather do than watch your show.”

Axl scoffed, earning a snicker from Steve and Duff.

 “Like what? It’s not like you do that much around here. I’m sure organizing your bags-” He gestured to the case she had in front of her. “-will take all night.”

The sarcasm in his voice burned in her ears. Out of all the people in the world, she got stuck doing their makeup...stuck doing the makeup for overgrown children. 

“Whatever,” Y/n  said, grabbing her makeup case and hair bag before walking out of the room. She could also think of a million other places she’d rather be.

When she was out of sight, Saul turned to his friends, disappointment in his eyes, “Why’d you have to do that?”

Confused faces looked back at him. 

“She puts up with our shit all the time, can’t you guys give her a break for once?”

Duff raised a brow. They all were aware of how much they stressed those around them out. Hell, they stressed each other out. But they never cared. As friends, they just brushed it off and when it came to other people, they expected them to do the same. It wasn’t like they were going to change their ways anytime soon. 

“You want us-” The blonde pointed to everyone. “-to give her a break?”

 He spoke each word slowly, trying to make sure his friend understood his question. Making sure he understood the question he had been asked.

Saul nodded, brushing black coils out of his face. “Yeah.”

Just as he was about to ask why the answer hit him like a ton of bricks. Duff drew in a breath, his jaw dropping. He hadn’t thought of it before, never once had it crossed his mind, but looking back now, it made sense, “You like her!”

It was hard for him to deny the accusation when he felt his cheeks burn. Silence wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he nodded. “Maybe I do.”

Axl shook his head. “And we’re now just hearing about this!?!”

Saul didn’t know what to say. Y/n had a million reasons she wasn’t going to the show and he had a million reasons as to why he’d never shared the information before. He looked down at his hands, avoiding the eyes burning him. 

“It’s not like it matters anyway. She’s clearly disgusted by us.”

The words stung coming off his tongue but they were true. He saw the way she looked at them, saw the glances through the mirror. She wasn’t impressed by them like the millions of other girls were. In her eyes, they were probably nothing more then flies--annoying creatures that only made her job more difficult. They were a pain in the ass and if she didn’t need the money, he knew she would have no problem parting ways with the band. 

“I would be, too. Have you seen how greasy Izzy’s hair gets?” Steven commented from the other side of the room. 

Izzy glared at him while Saul shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling. “She sees us as drug addicts, just like the rest of the population. She wouldn’t want anything to do with any one of us outside of work.”

“You don’t know that. She may be hopped up on drugs like the rest of us,” Duff tried to assure him. 

“Whatever,” he sighed. “Just forget I didn’t mention it.”

*~~*~~*

Y/n heaved a sigh, lifting her makeup case into a compartment on the tour bus. When everything was put away, she took a seat around the tiny table the bus had to offer. Laying her head on the cold surface, she closed her eyes.

Everything was unusually quiet. There were no people bustling around outside, moving equipment and instruments, no fans screaming like the world was ending, no nothing. For once she escaped the madness that normally encased her like a cacoon. Any peace and quiet she could get while on tour she would take. Everyone, besides the band, felt that way when they weren’t around. Silence was a god’s send to those that were busting their ass, trying to make the shows run smoothly. 

In the silence, she could almost picture what her life used to look like. Scenes of stirring a bowl of cake batter with her mother next to her, played behind her eyelids, as  Mozart's “Der Hölle Rache” played softly in the background. Memories like those sweet, gentle, moments like that were ones she missed. Sadly, those were gone, blowing away in the wind, left in their place were rough and wild moments that rushed together, colliding in violent fights. Nothing she would want to remember, let alone look back on during moments of peace.

“Rough day?”

Y/n opened her eyes, lifting her head to see Jessica, one of the sound techs, open the fridge and pull out a water bottle. She shrugged, “No rougher than usual.”

“They’re a lot to handle, though.” Jessica tossed Y/n a water before opening her own. “I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long. The last makeup artist lasted, oh, maybe three weeks.”

Y/n toyed with the water bottle, processing the information. Her third week working for the band was also the week that she had contemplated quitting almost every day. It was just a long enough period of time to know the boys enough but not enough, causing false assumptions. Though many of her assumptions were true, a longer period was needed for her to fully adjust to their wild behavior. That’s probably why the last makeup artist quit, they hadn’t given themselves enough time to get used to the wild and restless. She didn’t think anyone would be able to get used to their behavior, only block it out.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can last, though,” She said with a sigh. “I enjoy what I do, really, but it’s just… I don’t know.” She shook her head, “They frustrate me to no end. Either their hair is too flat, too greasy, or too high. Too this, too that. It doesn’t even matter, they just like to complain.”

Jessica chuckled, a slight smile forming on her lips. “It sounds like you need a drink. Something a little stronger than water.”

“No kidding.”

“Don’t let them get to you, Y/n. As hard as it may seem, you just need to focus on the task at hand, not those that make the task harder. You know what I mean?”

Y/n nodded, opening her water and taking a sip. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“Good,” Jessica smiled. “Cause they are clearly stressing you out and stress isn’t good for anyone. Plus, my mother says it causes wrinkles and no one wants those.”

Y/n shook her head, her lips tugging into a smile as Jessica left her in peace. 

Maybe the boys were stressing her out. The thought had never crossed her mind, she was always too focused on making them look perfect to notice. But upon further inspection, it made sense. The overwhelmed, anxious feeling that always lingered in her chest hours after she was finished with her work and the tossing and turning she did at night were dead giveaways to the stress she was under. If she looked in the mirror, she was sure that there would be bags under her eyes, but, lately, she never looked in the mirror to look at herself only the people she was working one. Yet, with the stress she was facing, she hadn’t given it a thought.

Y/n sighed, moving from the table, she crouched next to her bunk and pulled out the guitar case that she stored under it. She placed the case on the table, opening it, and felt her shoulders drop when her eyes met a  dark blue acoustic guitar. Running her fingers over the fretboard, she took a deep breath before pulling it out of the case.

*~~*~~*

Saul ran a hand through his curled hair, ruining the work that had been done to it earlier. Stepping out of the concert hall, he took a deep breath, glad to be outside, to be away from the relentless teasing of his friends. Even though he asked them to forget he mentioned it, they couldn’t do that. It was just too easy to forget something. He sighed and decided to walk around for a bit. Maybe some time away from them would slow his racing heart down. 

That thought became less and less likely as he walked, his brain mulling over his emotions that were running wild. He didn’t just like Y/n, the guitarist felt that he was coming to love her. It was foolish when he knew he didn’t stand a chance, yet the feelings didn’t waver, they stood firm like a hardwood in a rainstorm. 

What a fool he was. 

The boys and him could have any girl they wanted, girls fell into their laps like apples fall from trees, yet he that wasn’t good enough for him. His friends weren’t picky, not giving a thought to their emotions, not letting their feelings eat away at them. They were satisfied with any girl that came their way, Saul wasn’t. He wanted to be, he didn’t want his heart to race at the thought of one person, but that seemed to be what he was stuck with.

Saul pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and lighting it in hopes that it would help calm his heart down. Taking a drag, he tried to focus on the show, the after-party, their next stop, anything to distract him from what was eating him up inside. Nothing was working, nothing was strong enough to deter his mind from the emotions that he felt. He was just about to grab a bottle of vodka from the band’s bus, hoping that it would drown his problems when he heard the faint sound of someone plucking at guitar strings.

Stopping in his tracks, he looked around, trying to pinpoint where the music was coming from. The tune wasn’t that interact, yet it intrigued him, drawing him to it. He started walking in the direction of the intoxicating sound. It was doing a far better job at wiping his mind than anything he had tried. Saul raised a brow when he was lead to the crew bus, he wasn’t sure who he was expecting to be behind the music, but he wouldn’t have guessed a crew member.

Climbing the steps of the bus, he was surprised by the scene in front of. Sitting on the couch was Y/n, a guitar resting in her arms. Saul leaned against the driver’s seat, watching her play the instrument. It was news to him that she knew how to play, but then again, it wasn’t like he’d ever asked. Their conversations had never gone further than how he wanted his hair done and what stage makeup he wanted. It never went further than that, leaving him to wonder what else he didn’t know about her. 

He wondered what her biggest fears were, where she grew up, what her favorite color was. He wanted to know when she learned to play, who taught her, her favorite song. Watching her concentrate on the cords, he wanted to know what made her her. What made her more than some makeup artist. He wanted to know her. 

Y/n shook her head, messing up a cord. It had been ages since the last time she’d played and clearly, she was a little rusty. She looked up from the guitar, going to rub the knot out of her neck when her eyes widened in surprise at the sight in front of her. “Saul.” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here? Do you guys need me to do touch ups or something?”

He shook his head, hair bouncing about as a smile formed on his lips. “No, no. I was just passing by… I didn’t know you played.” He pointed at the instrument in her lap. “What song were you playing?”

Y/n’s cheeks heated up, embarrassed by the situation she found herself in, “Callin’ Baton Rouge.’ It’s by this country band, you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Your probably right, but I think you did the song justice.”

“I wouldn’t call it justice, it was really far from it.”

Saul looked at her in disbelief. “You may be out of practice, but that was amazing.”

She gave him a small smile and stood from the couch with the guitar in hand. “Maybe for an amateur it’s good, but I ain’t no rockstar.” She placed the instrument back in its case, latching it shut. “I’m not that good.” 

Y/n stepped back from the case, twisting her fingers around as she glanced up at him. Suddenly, the confidence that she always collected around him, around the band, was gone as she stood in front of him. She suddenly felt vulnerable, fully exposed as if she had been stripped naked. 

Silence filled the space between them, neither knew what to say.

“Uh… Well, I better get going,” Saul said, running a hand through his hair. He stopped when Y/n raised a disapproving brow. “See you before the show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He gave her a small smile before disappearing out of the bus.

Y/n was cemented in place as she watched him through the bus windows, her heart attempting to beat out of her chest and the room suddenly getting warmer. She wasn’t sure what was coming over her, but she knew it had everything to do with him.

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

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part and I’d love feedback.)

Permanent Taglist: @rexorangecouny @zestygingergirl @jennyggggrrr

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 6

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.5k

Part 5 <<< >>> Part 7

MASTERLIST

                He couldn’t believe she was once again teasing him, getting a thrill out of his reaction. It was a real skill she had.

“Don’t be so modest, I saw the way you threw the ax, Parker. I don’t know what you’re trying to hide under that baggy sweatshirt of yours, but I admit I’m getting curiouser and curiouser. Makes me wonder how jacked you are under there.”

                Peter’s face went through fifty shades of red in the span of five seconds, and Emmeline was beyond proud of herself for making him blush like that. She did seem to have a certain talent in embarrassing Peter; hopefully he knew it was all in good grace and she didn’t mean ill.

                 She twirled her empty cup between her fingers, smiling wickedly.

“You just love to see me wriggle in my chair when you say something like that,” he accused her.

“I’m not lying, though.” She raised a brow. “Emmeline Gerard only has one word, and it is true.”

                Emmeline Gerard was also a huge flirt and if Peter wasn’t so dense, he would notice it. That was a typical male thing: to not see when a woman was openly hitting on them and then complain that they are always the ones who are expected to take the first step.

“Don’t care.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest – maybe to show off his biceps, maybe to show her he was mad, he wouldn’t admit to either. “I feel objectified all the same.”

“Here, have a cookie, you’ll feel better,” Emmeline enjoined him, pushing the treat towards him. “I didn’t mean it, quit sulking.”

“Oh, so you think I’m fat?” he asked in mock-offense as he grabbed the cookie and bit into it.

                They both laughed and she swatted his shoulder for acting like an idiot.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” he started, the laughter dying down as he looked at her, locking his gaze on her and uncrossing his arms.

                Her smile dropped.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” she asked in a sigh. “Alright, I guess I brought this on myself. What do you wanna know?”

                He wasn’t surprised that she had guessed what it was about. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else since she talked about her parents an hour ago. He just needed to know what went on in her life – Emmeline was so secretive! He was the one with a secret alter ego, yet she acted like she was secretly Batman.

                He began to fidget, brows furrowed as he proceeded to tell her something he rarely ever brought up.

“It’s more of a request, actually. I- euh, I’m an orphan too,” he stated, making her drop her jaw and stop playing with her empty cup. “I understand better than anyone why you don’t like to talk about your parents, biological or adopted. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you ever want to talk to someone… you know, instead of throwing sharp deadly weapons around-“ He smiled a little and she mirrored the expression. They had both sobered up pretty quickly after his opening statement. “You can talk to me.”

                She shrugged.

“I don’t remember much; I wouldn’t know what to say even if I wanted to talk about it. I was so young…” She sighed, eyes not leaving his. “My adoptive parents are the only ones I know, and they are basically strangers to me. What about you? Any luck in that area?”

“I wasn’t really adopted like you think.” Peter chewed on his lip and rubbed his chin. “One day my parents left me in the care of my aunt and uncle, and they just never came back. Plane crash,” he explained. “I can remember them but sometimes I forget what they looked like. It’s scary to think that I could forget them entirely one day.”

“How’s life with your aunt and uncle?” Emmeline pushed him, the eagerness visible in the way she stared wide-eyed, fingers tugging at her sleeve.

“My uncle died when I was in high school, during a robbery gone wrong.” Jesus Christ, it hurt to talk about it, more than he had anticipated, but he could see that his words finally reached her, moved her. They acted like a key unlocking something. She was drinking up his every word. “Life was good with them. Aunt May is the best, and I couldn’t have asked for better parents than them.” He swallowed with difficulty, wondering what kind of parents he had before that fateful plane crash.

                His increasingly dark train of thought was interrupted when he felt a warm hand resting on his closed fist. He looked up again, finding Emmeline’s concerned eyes set on him.

“But enough with the pathetic story of my life.”

                Slowly, he loosened his fist, relaxing under her touch. Emmeline didn’t move her hand, rather she let her fingers slip in his now unstrained fist.

“I’d drink to that if my cup wasn’t empty,” Emmeline chuckled, humorlessly. He watched her mood shift under his eyes, becoming bitter. She sucked in her cheeks and focused on their joined hands. “Did you vote for my father at the last election?”

“… yes,” Peter admitted, feeling it wasn’t the right answer though it was the truth.

“I didn’t. I told him I did, of course. He never even considered I could vote for someone else; it was a given that the family would vote for him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Peter asked in what was barely above a whisper. Her aura exuded rancor.

“I’m not a difficult person, or at least, I don’t think so. I never wished for all the things I have today, all the… the money, the reputation, the social status… It was all so abstract to the little girl I was. I just wanted parents, you know?”

                Peter nodded; he thought he knew where she was going.

“But it wasn’t what I got. I would often cry about it to my friends in the beginning, but quickly got shut down. I found out at an early age that people do not pity the rich, even if it’s a crying little girl who longs for some form of parental love,” she spat out the last part, still resenting the people who had turned their back on her when she needed them. It was Peter’s turn to squeeze her hand. “So, here you go. That’s why I’m such a stuck-up bitch today. No one’s ever told me it was okay to talk about how I feel, until a few months ago.”

“What happened a few months ago?”

                Peter’s entire body had tensed up at this point. He could hear his blood pulsing in his temples and waited for the bomb. He already knew the answer, but it would have been strange not to ask. He was the one who told her to talk to a friend, that someone cared, that someone would listen.

                Emmeline seemed to recompose herself and shook her head a little, letting him go and pushing away her cup, clearing her throat. When she looked up, the dark clouds in her eyes had dissipated.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she said with a forced laugh, turning her attention to the window. “I hadn’t realized it was already dark outside, I should get going. Bella’s waiting for me.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, accepting that this was as much information he would get for today and thinking about nothing but the night he found her being pressed against a wall, blouse ripped open, a man with a hand down his pants all over her.

                He saw the hesitation cross her face, but she must have had the same thought as him; she stood up and grabbed her coat before looking at him.

“Yes, please.”

  *

                  That night Peter broke one of his own new rules and stopped by her place on his way back from a mission. He couldn’t help it, as much as he had tried.

                When he knocked on the window, Bella immediately began to jump excitedly, pawing at the glass and barking. It must have been double glazing because he barely heard a thing at all. Emmeline soon walked into the living room, toothbrush in her mouth, raising her arms in a “what the fuck man” gesture. At least, that was how Peter interpreted it.

                She walked back where she came from, and reappeared a minute later, with no more toothbrush.

“Thought you wouldn’t come here again,” she said as a way of greeting him when she opened the French window, letting Bella out to greet him properly.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he sat down to play with her dog. “I totally just came to see Bella by the way, you can go back inside.”

                Emmeline wasn’t amused and she let him know.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to see how far along you were this that deal of ours,” he told her, raising both hands in surrender.

“How-“ she made a helpless hand gesture. “How do you know? How can you possibly know that I finally talked to someone today? Who the fuck are you?”

“Ugh, language, young lady,” he giggled, standing up to talk to her at eye-level. “Let’s say I have a spider sense that tells me those things.”

“This is very weird.”

“How is it any weirder than feminine intuition? I’m listening.”

“Half the human population has it,” she stated, point blank. “It’s a real thing, unlike your… spidey- tingle.”

“Spider sense,” he corrected her.

“Same difference.”

“You are being very difficult tonight. I thought you’d be in a lighter mood now that you unburdened yourself a little bit,” he whined, pointing a finger at her. Emmeline didn’t give two shits that he was Spider-Man, she swatted his accusing finger away and took a step forward.

“Tone it down a notch, Spidey-boy,” she warned him. “I held my end of the bargain, now I get to be in whatever mood I want.”

“It wasn’t a bargain; I didn’t promise anything in exchange.”

“Well then I want something.” She planted her feet firmly on the ground, and her hands on her hips.

                Peter sighed, regretting this impromptu visit already, though he couldn’t deny he loved their superhero and civilian banter. The way she stood up to him would have made him shrivel away a few years back, but he was glad he had grown out of his awkward teenager phase and could stand up for himself now.

                Though the awkward teenage still showed once every now and then, most of the time when she said something saucy.

“I’m not swinging you around New York,” he warned her. “Last time I did that, the girl got sick.”

“That’s not what I want,” Emmeline scoffed, waving her hand to dismiss his idea. “Who would ask for that anyway? We’re in December, my nose would freeze and fall off.”

“Alright, name your price then, princess.”

“Do not start using pet names, or I will wipe the floor with your ass, Spidey-boy.” For a second, he thought she just might. “Just promise make sure that what happened to me doesn’t happen to another girl, yeah? That’s my price.”

                Peter wasn’t expecting this request, but he nodded without thinking about it. It was a given.

“I will.”

“Good. Now fuck off of my balcony. I was going to bed,” she shooed him away, like you did to a stray cat.

“You’re so mean to me!”

“It’s tough love, baby!” She laughed and waved him goodbye through the window, waiting until he left, and Bella strutted back inside to close the door. “He’s a bit strange for a superhero, don’t you think?”

  *

                  Emmeline never talked about Spider-Man to Peter, but he could still see the way their late-night chats affected her moods. She was often less grumpy when he visited her. It made him feel terrible because they were both becoming dependent on his visits, and as odd as it might sound, Peter was jealous of his alter ego. Jealous because Emmeline seemed to like Spider-Man better than Peter Parker.

                But Emmeline didn’t sit next to Spider-Man in class, she sat next to Peter, and for that he was infinitely grateful. She was better than him in physics anyway, it was a nice change from always being the nerdy one. Then again, when you’re a biophysics post-grad, the chances of you being the only nerd in the room were very slim.

“Will you be my partner?” she asked him, bursting his little bubble of silent contemplation. He hadn’t realized he had zoned out in the middle of class until she spoke up.

“Uh?” was all he was capable of answering.

“The assignment. We should do it together, partner-up,” she clarified. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

                Peter flinched and grimaced a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No?”

“You’ve being doing that a lot lately. Don’t you sleep at night?”

                Not as much as I’d like, he thought. Somehow, when he wasn’t visiting her as Spider-Man, it was because he was hanging out with her as Peter Parker, and the rest of the time he spent on Spider duty. He knew he was heading towards burn out, but he couldn’t hit the breaks either.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replied in a failed attempt to sound cool. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I’ll do the assignment with you, sure. I’ll need your notes though, I have some catching up to do.”

“Not a problem.” She pulled out her agenda to scribble something down. “Since you were daydreaming again, let me recap for you: the assignment is due January 8th, jot that down. I’ll bring my notes this Thursday when we meet at the library, is that okay?”

“You’re the best,” Peter told her with a crooked smile that was meant to be charming. Emmeline rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation.”

“When should we start working then?” he asked, changing the subject. Another thing he noticed: she didn’t like compliments.

“We can start tonight if you want. You won’t need my notes to decide on a topic and get started,” she suggested. “My place, 7p.m.?”

                A resounding alarm began to pound in Peter’s head, reminding him that one meeting with her dog would give him away on the spot.

“Didn’t you say Bella doesn’t like strangers?” he questioned, trying to find a way out of this. “We won’t get much done if she’s busy barking up at me.”

“She’s not home at the moment. She must have eaten something bad because she kept vomiting and whining. I brought her to the vet, she’ll be back at the end of the week.”

                Peter knew how much she loved Bella, and the pitiful sigh she let out at the end of her explanation constricted his heart. There he was, trying to dodge out of a study session with the girl he liked to preserve his secret identity, while she was lonely in her huge apartment because her beloved four-legged companion was sick.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll be alright.” She nodded and forced a smile. “And tonight works fine for me.”

“Bring Tessa, I haven’t seen her in a week.”

.

.

.

Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-One → in which Nick is not feeling great

The truck ran out of gas, thankfully, several feet from a gas station.

“Last Chance General Store.” Lilac read. She turned to her siblings, pushing a messy braid behind her ear; she’d have to re-do her hair.

Violet was half-asleep, having only just woken up from the drive. She was yawning and gathering all of the scraps from the Quagmires’ commonplace books into two separate piles, based on which Quagmire she thought made which page, to fold up and put into her pockets. Sunny was still crawling to the back of the truck, having just bitten through the wires she’d strapped to her legs; she and Soli had taken turns driving. Meanwhile, Klaus was leaning against the wall, with Nick leaning onto his shoulder, curled up so he could be as close to his brother as possible. He had his eyes shut, but Lilac knew he wasn’t asleep; she didn’t think he’d slept at all. He kept adjusting himself so that Klaus��s arm around him didn’t slip, and he kept reaching out his hand to touch Solitude, who was currently sleeping beside him, Babbitt only a few feet away. But he clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, so none of them tried- although it was incredibly worrying that he’d barely said more than a few words since they’d left the village. 

“We can look for gas there.” Lilac said. “And get washed up in the bathroom. Is there any money in here?” Violet shook her head; she’d been the one to go through the truck to see what supplies they had.

Klaus slowly sat up, and as he moved, Nick bolted upright, breaking away from his twin’s arm, shaking slightly as he hugged his knees and looked around, as if only having just woken up.

“Whoa, Nick!” Klaus said, putting his hands on his brother’s shoulders, while Solitude started to wake. “Nick, hey. Hey, we’re stopping for gas. We’re gonna go inside for a bit, that okay?”

Nick bit his lip, and then nodded and said, “I-I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry.” Klaus said. “Don’t be. Li, how long will we be in there?”

“I don’t know.” Lilac admitted. “But we’re sticking together, okay?”

They nodded, and Solitude rubbed her eyes and said, “Sweater.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Klaus nodded. He grabbed his jacket off the floor and reached into the pockets, pulling out the carefully folded (and slightly wrinkled) clothes. “Nick, I brought your clothes. Since I know you hate the suit.”

Nick’s eyes widened, and he slowly took the clothes, staring down at them as if he couldn’t believe they existed. He hugged them to his chest, and Violet said, “I’m sure there’ll be a bathroom in there. You can get changed. That outfit must be filthy, huh?”

Their brother didn’t say anything, but he did nod, and Lilac said, “Let’s get moving. Klaus, take Soli; Violet, take Sunny.”

“No!” Solitude said, clinging to Nick’s arm. “Stay with Nick!”

“Soli,” Lilac said carefully, “Nick needs to carry his clothes in and get changed. He won’t be far.”

Hesitantly, Solitude grumbled and pulled away, and Babbitt leapt into her pocket.

“Now,” Lilac said, “Let’s just hope the gas is easy to steal.”

There was no gas available; the machines were all out of order.

“Son of a bitch.” Violet muttered.

“We can try to walk.” Klaus said hesitantly, pretending not to notice how hard Nick was gripping onto his arm.

“We’d die of thirst or exposure.” Lilac said.

“Or Count Olaf.” said Solitude.

Then Sunny cried, “Shit!” and her siblings ran over towards her to see what she was looking at. She was staring at several copies of The Daily Punctilio on a newspaper stand, on which their photos were printed under the headline, Murderers!

“Well, let’s just hope whoever’s inside the station hasn’t read the paper.” Lilac said nervously.

“If they have?” Klaus asked.

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Lilac said. “Come on, let’s see if there’s a telegraph machine. We could send a message.”

“To who?” Violet asked.

Lilac considered. “Mr Poe doesn’t normally believe us, but if we send him a telegram, maybe he’ll at least pass it along to his wife. She runs the Daily Punctilio, at the very least she could publish our letter and we could win some people over to our side.”

“They didn’t even get our names right.” Klaus said, glancing at the paper. “Look! Lily, Veronica, Newt, Klyde, Sophie and Susie Baudelaire.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to come up with fake names.” Violet said. “Let’s just… go inside, and see what we can do from there.”

They nodded, and Lilac held the door open for them. A bell rang, and a man called, “Is that you, Lou?”

The siblings hesitated, sending each other panicked looks, and then Violet said, “No?”

“Be right with you! I’m stacking day-old pastries.” The children all entered, and turned to see a man climb out from behind a desk.

“We were hoping to send a telegram.” Lilac said.

“See the porcelain kittens there?” said the storekeeper.

“Yes.” Klaus nodded.

“It’s not that aisle.” the man said. “Turn right at the brooms, left at the fishing poles.” He paused. “You look familiar. Have I seen you kids before?”

The siblings glanced at each other in terror, and then Klaus said, “We’re child actors.”

“Naw, that’s not it.” said the man. “Oh, well. It’ll come to me.”

Lilac gave him a nervous nod and gestured for her siblings to follow her. They raced down the aisle, and Violet said, “We need to hurry. That man recognized us.”

“Okay.” Lilac said, reaching the telegraph machine. “I’ll detail the message. Violet, you know how to use one of these?”

“No.” said Violet.

“Okay. I’ll use it, you think of the message. Sunny- or Soli, whichever- listen with these headphones to make sure the signal’s going through.” Lilac said, grabbing some headphones off of the side of the machine. Sunny took them, giggling. “Okay, Klaus-”

“Why don’t I help Nick find the bathroom to get changed?” Klaus said quietly. “And I can wait outside for him.”

Lilac flinched. “I really don’t want to split up.” Nick and Soli nodded at that.

“It’ll just be a little bit.” Violet stood on her tiptoes. “Look, bathroom sign’s only… well, it’s against the far wall, but they won’t be that far away.”

Lilac sighed. “If anything goes wrong, Klaus, take Nick and run.”

“Wait, Li…” Nick paused. “Can I… can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” Lilac said softly.

Nick glanced from Klaus to Violet to the toddlers. “Alone?”

“Hey, whatever you have to say,” Violet said, “You can say it to all of us. We’re not going to judge you.”

“It’s just…” Nick glanced at Lilac. “I just… need to tell her first.”

Violet flinched. “Why?”

Nick didn’t respond, and Lilac said, “Why don’t you go get changed first, okay? Then we’ll talk about it.”

Nick nodded, and Klaus gripped his hand tighter. “Come on, bud. We’ll be right back.” The twins moved quickly, then, hoping to be in and out as soon as possible.

“Alright, now remember,” Violet said, turning back to Lilac, “The end of a sentence is ‘STOP,’ so when I say-”

“I know how telegrams work, dipshit.” Lilac snapped. “Hurry it up so we can get this sent and hopefully get some form of reply.”

Klaus sat outside the bathroom door, bouncing his leg and glancing from side to side. He couldn’t help it, he was incredibly nervous. If that shopkeeper found out they were accused of murder… well, adults didn’t tend to believe them when they tried to tell the truth. There was also the fact that Nick wasn’t within his line of sight; true, he was only a few feet away, just behind the door, but still… Klaus kept worrying that if he blinked, or moved away for a moment…

“Hey, Nick?” he called. “You’ve been in there a while. Do you need help with anything?”

Nick didn’t answer, and Klaus immediately leapt to his feet and cracked open the door. “Nick?”

When Nick still didn’t respond, Klaus slowly slipped in. It was a single stall bathroom, so he had no trouble spotting Nick huddled in the corner, hugging his knees and shaking uncontrollably.

“Nick!” Klaus let the door slam behind him as he raced up to his brother, kneeling in front of him, not sure what he should do. “What happened? Are you okay?” His brother hadn’t even completely finished changing; his suit was on the floor across the room, and he had his shirt and sweater still folded beside him. “What happened? Nick!”

Nick looked up at Klaus, and said, “I-I…” he shut his eyes. “I thought I heard… no, no, I must’ve… I thought I heard her, but… I had to… she wouldn’t… have found us this fast…”

“Her?” Klaus asked. “Esme?” Nick flinched, shutting his eyes tight, and Klaus looked up; there was a small window at the top of the bathroom, the blinds flapping in the breeze, probably just to let air in. It could carry sound from outside, but… no need to scare Nick at the moment.

“She’s not here.” Klaus promised. “And if Olaf’s troupe does get here, I’ll protect you, okay?” Nick nodded a little, moving to scratch his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. Here.” Klaus picked up Nick’s sweater. “Get your stupid shirt on. If you don’t wanna wear the sweater, cause of the heat, that’s okay, I can carry it.”

“I’ll wear it.” Nick said. But as he reached to grab his clothes from Klaus, his brother jumped back. Nick’s eyes widened as he realized why, and he began, “It’s fine, just-”

Klaus put a hand out to stop him. Then he slowly moved it to Nick’s shoulder. “This bruise looks bad.” he whispered.

“It’s fine.” Nick said quickly.

“Nick, is that a scar? Is that from-”

“Just- just- just give me my shirt, okay?”

Klaus moved a little, and then his eyes widened. “Nick, holy shit, your back-”

“It doesn’t even hurt anymore!” Nick said, and he ripped his shirt and sweater away from Klaus. “D-don’t… you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Nick-”

“You’re worrying about me enough.” Nick’s voice broke, and he glanced away as he threw on his shirt. “I… I shouldn’t…”

“Nick, hey, it’s okay.” Klaus said. “We-”

Nick threw on his sweater and stared hard at the ground, trying to hide his tears from Klaus. It didn’t work. “I shouldn’t… you… we have enough things to…” Nick turned back to Klaus, and froze when he saw that he was crying, too.

“I’m sorry.” Klaus said. “I’m sorry, we… we should’ve found you sooner, we should’ve protected you better…”

Nick shook his head. “No. I should’ve… I should’ve… found a way out, this is my fault…”

“No!” Klaus threw his arms around his brother, pulling him into a tight hug. “No! This is not your fault! Don’t you ever think that!”

“It is!” Nick cried, and Klaus realized just how hoarse his voice sounded. Like he’d been screaming too much. “It’s my f-fault, I… I should’ve… you shouldn’t be… I’m scaring all of you and I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Klaus said, hugging his brother. “I promise, they’ll never hurt you again. I won’t let them.”

“You…” Nick suddenly retreated from Klaus, eyes wide.

“Nick-” Klaus began.

Nick quickly waved his hands to shut him up, and then Klaus heard a quiet conversation, from outside the window.

“And when I was fourteen, I was crowned False Spring Queen.” came an eerily familiar voice. “We had this ceremony with my Snow Scout troupe at the top of a mountain, they did a dance around a pole-”

“Oh no.” Klaus said, and he instantly grabbed Nick, trying to haul him to his feet. Nick shook his head, retreating back into the wall. “Nick! We have to go!”

“They’re out there.” Nick whispered, starting to shake again. “We have to hide, Klaus, they’re out there, they’re going to catch us-”

“Not if we run.” Klaus said. “Not if we fight. I promise, Nick-”

Then Nick’s eyes went wide. “Oh no.” he said. “No, no, no…”

“What?”

Nick looked at Klaus with a face of pure terror. “The girls are outside.”

“The next day he was found murdered, and Count Olaf arrived in town with his troupe and Esme Squalor STOP.” Violet said. “As part of his plan to steal the fortune our parents left behind, Count Olaf disguised himself as a detective and convinced the town of VFD that we were the murderers STOP.”

“Uckner,” added Sunny, which meant, “Meanwhile we discovered where the Quagmire triplets and Nick were being hidden, and helped them escape STOP. The Quagmires managed to give us a few scraps of their notebooks so we could try to learn the real meaning of VFD STOP.”

“We have managed to flee from the citizens of the town, who want to burn us at the stake for a murder that we did not commit STOP.” Violet continued. “Please reply at once STOP. We are in grave danger STOP.”

Lilac typed the last sentence, and then said, as she finished everything, “We are in grave danger.”

“That’s what I said.” Violet said.

“I know but…” Lilac sighed. “It just seems unreal.”

Solitude moved over to her oldest sister, hugging her leg. “I’s okay.” she said. “We’re together now.”

“We are, but-” Lilac began.

And then Violet turned and said, “Stop.”

“I wasn’t typing-”

“Stop!”

Lilac turned around, and froze over.

Standing at the other end of the aisle, Count Olaf gave them a wicked grin. “Hello, hello, hello.”

Lilac wasted no time; she immediately picked up Sunny and shouted, “Run!”

Violet grabbed Solitude, who shoved Babbitt into her pocket as they took off. Lilac grabbed Violet’s free hand and turned them down a bend, before doubling back down the aisle. “We need to find the boys!” she said quickly. “And get the hell out of here!”

“Or we could stab him!”

“Do you have a knife on you?”

“...no.”

Lilac turned a left, and let out a scream, pushing Violet back. She’d almost run headfirst into the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender, who gave the girls a very surprised look. Before they could say anything other than, “Oh, hi!” Lilac dragged her sisters away, down another aisle, closer to the front desk.

“Sir!” Violet called. “Sir, we need help-”

They slid to a stop again when they saw the shopkeeper talking to none other than the Bald Man. He simply turned and pointed to them, not even looking surprised, and said, “There, see? Those are the murderer children from the paper.”

“Not murderers!” Solitude shouted, clinging to Violet’s overalls.

“And it’s about time we leave!” Lilac said, pushing Violet down another aisle. “Thanks for the telegraph machine!”

“Hey!” the shopkeeper shouted, but the girls did not look back.

Klaus edged out of the bathroom, saying, “Nick, stay here. I’ll be back for you once I-”

“No! No, don’t leave!” Nick shouted, leaping forwards and grabbing Klaus’s arm.

Klaus froze a moment, shocked, and then he nodded and took off running, his brother at his heels.

“Violet! Lilac!” Klaus shouted. “Girls, we need to go!”

He turned towards the back door, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s the rush?” said Olaf, looking up from a stack of barrels that was effectively blocking the boys from the door.

Nick completely froze over, and Klaus threw himself in front of his brother. “Come any closer to him and I’ll kill you myself!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Klaus.” Olaf said, stepping closer. “After all, soon enough the police will be on their way to arrest the Baudelaire murderers, and you’ll be back in prison. Or you could come with me-”

“Never!” Klaus pushed Nick farther, incredibly terrified by just how quiet his brother was.

Olaf looked past Klaus, locking eyes with Nick, who was trying very hard not to shake. “Long time, no see.”

“Stay away from us!” Klaus said, as Nick averted his gaze to the floor and gripped harder onto him.

Olaf raised his eyebrow. “Tell me, Nick, did you tell them everything you learned yet?”

“Go away.” Klaus shouted. “Piss off!”

“Tell me,” Olaf said, once again stepping forwards, “Do they know what happened to you? What you know?”

“Go away.” Klaus shouted again, and Nick backed up, dragging his twin with him.

“Did you tell your dear older sister-” Olaf’s taunt was cut short, however, when a frog flew out from behind the boys and landed square in the middle of his face.

“Bullseye!” cheered Solitude.

Lilac raced forwards and grabbed Nick’s arm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Go!” Klaus shouted, pushing his siblings into a run.

As soon as they started running, Lilac said, “Front door’s blocked!”

“Klaus!” Violet glanced behind her. “Are there any windows?”

“Uh, one in the bathroom. Too high to reach-”

Violet didn’t listen; she just grabbed her ribbon and tied her hair as she ran, gesturing for her siblings to follow her towards the bathroom. She leaned onto the door, knocking it open, and pushed everyone inside before locking the door. She ran to the window, and then said, “No, we can make it. Lilac, I’ll stand on your shoulders, like at the fountain, and then we can pass the others up. Then one of us’ll go and lift the other up.”

“Sounds good.” Lilac said. “Boys, hold the girls a second, then pass them up to the window.”

“We can’t!” Nick said, grabbing Klaus’s arm. “They’re outside!”

“And Olaf is inside.” Klaus said. “Don’t worry, bud, we’ll go out fast so we make sure nothing happens.”

“Nothing is going to happen.” Violet promised. “Girls, you go up first. Soli, if anything happens, throw Babbitt again.”

“Gotcha.” Solitude nodded, picking up her frog, which had thankfully managed to follow them this far.

Violet climbed onto Lilac’s shoulders, lifting up Solitude with her. Soli climbed out of the window, and then let out a cry that signalled an all-clear. Sunny went out next, muttering something about how she’d prefer to murder Olaf herself, and then Violet helped Klaus climb out. Once he’d made it, she said, “Nick, can you… do you need help?”

Nick was still hugging himself, but he bit his lip and said, “I… I’ll make it.”

“If you-”

Nick moved forwards and climbed up Lilac and Violet, pulling himself out of the window. As soon as he was out, he hugged himself again and leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes shut, as if he could wish himself away.

“You want to go up next?” Violet asked.

Lilac shook her head. “You first.”

Violet crawled out of the window, and then reached out her hands, dragging Lilac up the rest of the way. As soon as she was out, Lilac said, “Is everyone here?”

“We should probably hurry.” Klaus said. They followed his gaze, to see a familiar long black car parked only a few feet away.

“Shit.” Lilac muttered, and she hoisted Nick to his feet and dragged him in the opposite direction.

They ran to the back of the Last Chance, and as they reached it, Klaus pointed ahead. “Van!” he said.

They looked at the side of the van; it was decorated with the letters VFD.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Klaus said.

“Into the mystery van!” Lilac said, pushing Nick forwards.

And so they ran forwards, and as they reached the van, the doors opened, and a bearded man peered out, smiling brightly.

“Hello, children!” he said. “Are you Volunteers?”

The Baudelaires glanced at each other, and then Lilac said, “Yes. Yes, definitely.”

“Well, then,” the man scooted back, “Welcome aboard, brothers and sisters!”

[goodnightmemes]

Angel Season Two Sentence Starters

❛ It's been a long time. I'd love to see that boy. ❜

❛ You can't see everything. You're just a vampire, like everyone else – that didn't come out right. ❜

❛ Oh, lord, will no one shut me up? ❜

❛ The road to redemption is a rocky path. ❜

❛ It's not that vampires don't photograph, it's just that they don't photograph well. ❜

❛ I've been accused of a great many things in my time, but paranoid has never been one of them. Unless people have been saying it behind my back. ❜

❛ I still can't believe you're here. I mean...I killed you. ❜

❛ Sort of missing the whole 'creature of the night' angle, isn't he? ❜

❛ You need some serious saving. Looks like I've got my work cut out for me. ❜

❛ All you little worker bees, plotting your little schemes. ❜

❛ Our discussions tend to go about three minutes, then it's strictly name calling and hair pulling. ❜

❛ Do you know how hard it is to think with a rebar through your torso? ❜

❛ The time I've lived, I've seen some horrors, scary behavior, and a couple of fashion trends I constantly pray to forget. But I see people try. I see them try to be better. ❜

❛ Just shut up! One more excuse from you and I am gong to bury you alive, next to my house so I can hear you screaming. ❜

❛ Top of the middle of the day to you too. ❜

❛ Some people just shouldn't have money. ❜

❛ Killing is so merciful in the end, isn't it? The pain is ended. ❜

❛ Imagine Bonnie and Clyde if they had a hundred and fifty years to get it right. ❜

❛ God, I could eat his eyeballs. ❜

❛ You're fun for a human. ❜

❛ You don't learn that kind of darkness, it's innate. It was in you before we ever met. ❜

❛ There's gonna be a lot of trouble, and I say: bring it on. ❜

❛ You see, no matter how good a boy you are, God doesn't want you! But I still do. ❜

❛ What? That's the plan? Walking real quick was the plan? ❜

❛ Vampire living in a city known for it's sun, driving a convertible. Why do you hate yourself? ❜

❛ Oh, no, I can't do anything fun tonight. I have to count my past sins, then alphabetize them. Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of snapping on Friday. ❜

❛ Life's too short. Believe me, I know. Four hundred years, and still too short. ❜

❛ Is that was you think? You did me a favor? You damned me. ❜

❛ God never did anything for you, but I will. ❜

❛ Tell the truth, whose face do you want to look at for all eternity, his or mine? ❜

❛ My soul is well past saving. Let the devil take me if he'll have me. It doesn't matter, either way, I die. ❜

❛ You can bet if someone ordered a male body part for religious sacrifice, the world would be atheist ❜ –  *snaps*  – ❛ like that! ❜

❛ You know, just because we had a thing for a hundred and fifty years, don't presume you know me! ❜

❛ We're about a month and what...four hundred years too late? ❜

❛I don't care. I don't wanna die. ❜

❛ I truly am sorry. The fact of the matter is, there is nothing I can do. ❜

❛ I felt it. I felt how you care, the way no one's ever cared before. Not for me. ❜

❛ I'm not gonna leave you. Every moment you have left, I'm gonna be by your side. You never have to be alone again. ❜

❛ I only got half the story, half of it didn't make sense. ❜

❛ Somehow that weirds me out more than the whole blood-sucking thing. ❜

❛ You have to change the way you've been doing things. Don't you see where this is taking you? ❜

❛ I believe you said something about...a massacre. ❜

❛ My ass is not pansy! ❜

❛ Well, I for one, would just like to point out the patheticness that is us. ❜

❛ Vampires. Sloth demons. You know what's really, really evil? Tequila. ❜

❛ Can't a woman wreak a little havoc without there being a man involved? ❜

❛ You miss him, like a heartbeat. ❜

❛ Let them fight the good fight. Someone has to fight the war. ❜

❛ I asked you for a favor, and you're avoiding me. That's impolite. ❜

❛ Hey, guy I ran over. ❜

❛ Hey, girl who ran over me. ❜

❛ It's like a song. Now, I can hold a note for a long time, but eventually, that's just noise. It's the change we're listening for. The note coming after and the one after that. That's what makes it music. ❜

❛ Man, you just get darker and darker, and the weird thing is – your aura? Beige. ❜

❛ Don't try and tell us there's nowhere to go but up, because the truth is, there's always more down. ❜

❛ Tell the truth. If the world were to end tonight, would it really, in your heart of hearts, be such a terrible thing? ❜

❛ Seventeen karaoke bars. You know, I need to lie down and scrub out the inside of my head. ❜

❛ You walked away. Do us a favor and just stay away. ❜

❛ You don't make that funny expression when I knock. Or, if you do, I don't see it. ❜

❛ I never had to look so hard to find trouble before. ❜

❛ It's L.A. The evil's probably just tied up in traffic, or something. ❜

❛ The world doesn't work in spite of evil. It works with us. It works because of us. ❜

❛ If there wasn't evil in every single one of those people out there, why, they wouldn't be people. ❜

❛ I don't even know what you are anymore. ❜

❛ It doesn't matter. None of it matters. ❜

❛ Get dressed and get out, because the next time I see you, I will have to kill you. ❜

❛ You saved me. I'm sorry I couldn’t do the same for you. ❜

❛ If there's no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. ❜

❛ I fought for so long, for redemption, for a reward, and finally just to beat the other guy. ❜

❛ If there's no bigger meaning, then the smallest act of kindness is the greatest thing in the world. ❜

❛ It sounds like you've had an epiphany. ❜

❛ I think maybe we're not alone in this. ❜

❛ You think you're the first guy who ever rolled over, saw what was laying next to him, and went 'gueeyah!'. You're not. Believe me. ❜

❛ You'd have known that, if you hadn't had your head firmly up your...place that isn't on top of your neck. ❜

❛ Someone put a stake through that woman's bloody heart if she persists in popping her bloody chewing gum! ❜

❛ Just so we understand each other – you and I? We're not friends. ❜

❛ Man, atonement's a bitch. ❜

❛ Now we're saving a vampire from vampires?  ❜

❛ I got two words for that: nuh and uh! ❜

❛ Stop it, evil hand, stop it! ❜

❛ You are really gross. You know that? ❜

❛ I mean, walking I get, but power walking? Why not just run for a shorter time? Weird. ❜

❛ Do you want me to rip that guys head off for you? Because you know, I can. Really. I can just actually rip his head right of his body. ❜

❛ Everybody on board. Guilt trip leaving this station. ❜

❛ Home sweet hell. ❜

❛ Can everybody just notice how much fire I'm not on? ❜

❛ I'll take the twenty on the left, you take the fifty on the right. ❜

❛ Lawyers. Don't you people sleep during the day. ❜

❛ Oh, am I glad to see you – and so much less dead than I expected. ❜

❛ Handsome man, saved me from the monsters. ❜

❛ Bad things always happen here. ❜

❛ A prophecy. Great. Because those always go well. ❜

❛ You want me to talk to my family? On purpose? ❜

❛ Why do people keep putting me in charge of things? ❜

❛ I got a plan. We die horribly and painfully, you go to Hell, and I spend eternity in the arms of baby Jesus. ❜

❛ I've been trying to make an enchilada out of tree bark. ❜

❛ Ooo, why did you add that coward thing? That's really gonna piss him off. ❜

❛ You're looking at social confusion, economic depression, and probably some riots. Good luck. ❜

[lady-serai]

My Saving Grace

Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin Fanfiction

Rating M

Disclaimer: I don’t own SnK/AoT

WARNING: there is a rape scene in this first chapter. I have marked the beginning and the end of the M-rated scene if you don’t want to read it or if it’ll trigger you. 

Chapter One

It was late in the evening as Sasha Braus, new Survey Corps member, found herself delivering a message to one of the MP commanding officers named Michael Garforth. The letter was entrusted to her by Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, and she was determined not to fail. Many people presume that she wasn't smart and she hated those accusations because it wasn't the case. Her personality as a laid back, easy-going person made it difficult to prove them wrong. However, she was determined to deliver a simple document successfully. As she approached the MP headquarters, she couldn't help but wonder at the large building.

She met an MP outside of the headquarters and held up the document for the guard to see. "I'm Sasha Braus of the Survey Corps! I was asked by Commander Erwin Smith to deliver this document to Section Commander Michael Garforth!"

The guard waved her in and gave her directions to the Section Commander's office. Sasha walked down the elaborate hallways. They must have a lot of money to waste if they are spending money to make such elaborate halls. She asked an MP as she was walking by for directions. Sasha felt relieved when the MP decided to guide her to the office herself.

Sasha was showed into the room and was met with piercing dark eyes belonging to a tall man sitting at a desk. Sitting in chairs around the officer's desk were several other men. She marched her way further into the room and saluted. "Sasha Braus of the Survey Corps. I am here to deliver a document from Survey Corps Commander Erwin Smith to Section Commander Garforth!"

"At ease, soldier," the dark-eyed man said with a slight smile. "I'm Section Commander Michael Garforth. Now, let me see that document."

Startled by his kindness, Sasha obediently walked over to his desk to hand him the message. She fidgeted a little under the gaze of four other men sitting around her as she waited for Garforth to finish reading the document.

"Well, now, then. Thank you for delivering this message."

Sasha saluted. "Your welcome sir."

"You must be quite the busy soldier," the commanding officer said warmly to her.

Sasha shrugged. "Training and expeditions do make a soldier quite busy sir."

"You must be tired and hungry. Would you like to take a short break before heading back to the Survey Corps headquarters?"

"Oh, I could not," Sasha said shaking her head.

"You must be hungry and slightly thirsty. I have some leftovers that one of the section commanders gave me to try, but I just ate an hour ago. Take a break before you go back to the Survey Corps," Garforth said smiling.

"Ah," said Sasha embarrassed at the compliment. She was going to refuse, but she didn't want to appear to be rude. "I guess a tiny break wouldn't hurt," Sasha conceded as she took a seat one of the officers offered her.

"I think it is remarkable that a woman is part of the Survey Corps."

Sasha flushed and looked down at her hands. "I joined because I wanted to protect my village."

"That is very courageous of you to risk your life for your village."

Sasha shrugged. Garforth gestured towards one of the men. "Get the food for the soldier here and prepare the table so she could eat."

"Yes, sir."

Garforth turned his warm gaze towards Sasha. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Uh, tea? Please."

Garforth smiled. "We have tea. James, get the tea that I serve to my guests if you will."

"Yes, sir."

Sasha waited quietly as the officers spoke among themselves and Garforth continued to flip through documents. The door opened, and Sasha turned to see James with a cup of tea in his hand. She thanked him as she took the cup and sipped from it.

Sasha couldn't help but feel small in comparison to everyone in the room. She continued to sip from the cup. She couldn't help but think the tea had such a sweet taste to it. Cinnamon and something else she couldn't place her finger. She felt a warmth spreading throughout her whole body. It was almost unreal at how warm her body felt. She lightly put her hand on her forehead not aware the officers were watching her with interest and Garforth's slight smile.

"Would you like to eat?" Garforth asked her gently.

Sasha turned her brown eyes on the commanding officer. "W-what?" she mumbled.

"We got food," Garforth clarified.

"Food. Yes, food sounds good," Sasha mumbled standing up and almost fell before she stabilized herself. She felt a hand holding onto her arm.

"Allow me to escort you to the table," Garforth said smiling as he practically half-carried, half-dragged the girl out of the room towards the table. Sasha kept her eyes on her feet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She looked up and stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at the bared table that had rope all over the table. She slowly turned to look at Garforth who had moved behind her. Before she could say a word, his men grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. Sasha began to thrash.

******M rated scene******

"What the hell are you doing?!" the auburn-haired girl snapped struggling to free her limbs but for some reason, her limbs weren't responding. Horrified, she stared at Garforth. "What the hell did you do to me?"

Garforth ignored her. "Tie her down boys."

"You sick bastard," Sasha snarled as she struggled against the men who wrestled her onto the table. As three men held down, another two men tied her to the table with the ropes. Sasha struggled, but she was starting to get too tired to fight back.

Garforth moved to her head and stroked her cheek. Sasha snapped her teeth at him, and Garforth yanked his hand back. Sasha was satisfied to see a bite mark on his hand. However, her satisfaction was short-lived as a giant hand collided with her cheek snapping her head to the side.

"Gag her. The bitch just bit me," Garforth barked.

"You are a horrible person!" Sasha spat.

Garforth shrugged. "You are easy, my dear. I have needs to be fulfilled."

Tears trickled down her face as another man wrestled the gag into her mouth. Sasha stared in horror as Garforth waved a hand at James who gleefully ripped her shirt off of her body while another officer, who had prepared the table, used a knife to cut through her pants. Sasha closed her eyes as she was bared to the horrid man who was leering at her.

Sasha's eyes widened when she heard buckles snapping and the rustle of pants being dropped to the floor. "My, my, men. Look at how toned this woman's body is. I must say Survey Corps women have quite gorgeous bodies. Now, leave us!" Sasha watched as the commander's officers left her tied to the table with a man who had no qualms taking her virginity.

Garforth moved to stand in between her parted legs. She desperately tried to move her legs closed, but huge hands gripped her thighs in a fierce grip that caused her to wince in pain.

"Please," she whimpered. "I'm begging you to stop. Do not do this. Please just let me go back to my headquarters."

She felt a tiny bit of hope when she saw him pause. Is he…?

Her eyes widened in shock as he jerked his hips and impaled himself in her causing her to jerk and scream in pain.

"Stop!" she screamed as he roughly thrusted into her. "You are hurting me!'

He leaned over her writhing body and pulled her left breast into his mouth. "That's a shame," he said as he released her left breast with a pop. "I like it rough especially with virgins."

Sasha struggled against his grip, but she was already spent. She just laid there wincing and gasping as Garforth violated her. The horrid man began to thrust faster and harder with no restraint until he finally shuddered as his seed poured into her body. Sasha just laid there as he pulled himself out of her and fixed himself.

Sasha closed her eyes, exhausted. It felt as if she had been ripped to pieces. When she was finally left alone by herself, Sasha allowed herself to cry.

Please…someone save me.

*****M rated scene ends*****

Levi was sitting working on his paperwork when he heard someone knocking on his door.

"Come in," he said shortly, eyes never leaving the document he had been reading.

"Um, sir," he heard Eren Jaeger.

Levi looked up. "What is it?"

"Um, sir, uh—"

"Spit it out, brat."

"I'm worried about someone!" he practically yelped.

Levi raised an eyebrow.

"It's Sasha Braus. Commander Erwin sent Sasha to deliver a document to MP headquarters, and she hasn't returned yet. It's been over an hour, sir. I was wondering if you could—"

"Get her?"

Eren shifted. "Yes, sir."

Levi grunted and pushed himself from his desk. "I hate searching for brats. I will let Commander Erwin know about your request and let him deal with it. Knowing you, you will continue to beg me until I get pissed and decide to look for another shitty brat for you. Don't give me that look, Jaeger. It's written all over your pathetic face. Go back to the mess hall before I decide my boot looks better on your face than on the floor."

"Yes sir," Eren Jaeger said, saluting. The brat practically sprinted out of his office. Levi walked briskly to Commander Erwin's office.

Good time to bother Eyebrows.

Levi didn't bother knocking on the door to his superior's office. Erwin sharply looked up and opened his mouth and was about to reprimand Levi but stopped when he saw the expression on Levi's face.

Although, to most people, they wouldn't be able to tell that Levi was worried unless they knew him as well as Erwin did.

"What's wrong?" Erwin asked.

"Sasha Braus."

Recognition flashed in Erwin's blue eyes. "I sent Ms. Braus to the MP headquarters to deliver a document to Section Commander Michael Garforth."

"According to the brat, it has been over an hour, oh now, it's over two hours ago."

Concern showed slightly in Erwin's eyes. "Hmm, maybe I should send Hange out to fetch the girl."

But something in Erwin's statement bothered Levi more than anything else. He slammed his hands on Erwin's desk. "Did you say Garforth?"

"Yes, why?"

"Do you know about his reputation?"

"As a capable commander? Yes."

"No, Erwin, you respectable idiot. I'm talking about his slutish behavior. And he doesn't get the women; he takes them." Levi paused to see the horror in Erwin's eyes.

"Levi! Take your squad and get her!" Erwin snapped alarmed. "I'm going to inform Eren and his teammates that you are going to get her."

Levi was out of the room before Erwin finished. Levi was more than alarmed. And more than just angry.

Garforth. You better pray to whatever god you believe in that I don't see your ugly face.

Levi gritted his teeth, enraged.

[tonystarktogo]

#bittersunday if I may? (hey rhymes!) consider: the rogue Avengers returning to fight a threat (Thanos??) and Tony has spent months debating with the UN for pardons, terms, etc. but the moment they arrive Cap is annoyed that the upstate compound doesn't include rooms for them, and Wendy- Wanda has the audacity to blame him for the situation in the first place, spewing accusations while simultaneously demanding they be accommodated. and when Clint makes a remark about Peter, Tony is just d o n e.

Steve doesn’t know exactly how he’d pictured his first meeting with Tony after the mess with the Accords to go. Half the time he’d been unsure if there’d even be a reunion, though he’d tried very hard not to think about that.

So when they, after a long, exhausting flight and a seemingly endless amount of security checks had finally arrived at their new compound to find Tony standing in the middle of their living room, Steve had been relieved. And annoyed. And tired. And sad. And–to be honest, he isn’t even sure how he really feels about this.

It doesn’t help that Tony’s face gives absolutely nothing away. Then he spreads his arms widely and announces with a wide smile, “The life decoy model of Tony Stark welcomes back, traitors!”

It’s not a friendly smile, Steve realises, as the words sink in. He grabs a hold of Clint’s arm before the man can attack him. Clint hasn’t made a secret of whom he blames for his wife’s refusal to let him see his children, and though Steve sympathises, murder really isn’t going to help.

Still. Tony’s blatantly provocative smile isn’t helping either.

“Tony-” he starts, not sure what he’s going to say. 

It doesn’t matter because Tony interrupts him with a sharp “Nobody asked you what you think Captain Stab-my-back.”

The open accusation makes Steve wince, but what’s even worse is how utterly blank Tony’s face remains. He’s even still smiling. It looks terrible.

“Will you stop looking like that?” Wanda snaps. They’re all on a pretty short fuse these days, Steve knows. And seeing Tony acting like this makes it so easy. “I’m going to find my room. I didn’t come back here to look at him,” she hisses venomously. 

Tony doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even stop smiling.

“The compound offers only two dormitories, no private rooms, Witchy-Witch-Bitch.”

That smile. It’s really starting to freak Steve out.

Wanda snarls, her hands glowing dangerously red. “Why am I not surprised that your pettiness knows no bounds?” she spits. “You think this is so funny, don’t you? Does it make you feel so big and important to throw money around to make our lives miserable? Well, let me tell you, you’re not! You’re a pathetic, petty asshole, nothing more!”

Finally, finally that terrible smile falls from Tony’s lips. Steve just isn’t sure he likes the blank look that could have come straight from Agent Coulson–and isn’t that a punch to the gut–any better.

How did it all get out of control so fast?

“The Council for Externational Security is responsible for your accommodations, Witchy-Witch-Bitch,” Tony deadpans. “Do you really think you’re important enough to merit my personal attention?”

With a wordless scream of anger, frustration, desperation, Clint rips his arm out of Steve’s grip to throw himself at Tony.

“Don’t!” Natasha yells, but it’s too late. Tony doesn’t even make a move to defend himself.

He just falls.

Straight down.

Completely straight.

Clint holds his hand with a pained grown.

Tony gets up slowly, calmly.

“You have attempted to harm the life decoy model of Tony Stark. Your picture has been taken and will be sent to the local police and the Department responsible for threats to a superhuman personality. Please step way in the next ten seconds or further measures will be taken.”

Steve can do nothing but stare, horrified.

“What the fuck?” Sam whispers to his left.

Tony–no, not Tony, how did he not realise that until now?–turns his head and smiles that smile that is too empty to count as one, and repeats:

“Do you really think you’re important enough to merit my personal attention?”

Yeah, so. Technically not what you asked for, sorry about that! But I remembered that line from the movies and just couldn’t help myself 

Tony has been done long before the Avengers got back, is the thing

[sathtrash]

You know what I still find like, really messed up? To this day? And probably for the rest of forever? 

People see Taylor Swift, who’s 28, who had most of her biggest ‘scandals’ (’Better Than Revenge’ slut shaming issue, ‘I’m not like other girls’ circa ‘You Belong With Me’, her somehow being a massive slut for having had 8 boyfriends in the past like decade, and the general slut shaming around her in general, etc) before she turned twenty, and see her as some sort of Satan who ‘Can’t act her age’ and constantly defame her for things she said as a literal teenager, and who hasn’t ACTUALLY had a big, REAL scandal since reaching age 20 (you can go on all you want about the Kimye shit, and the VMA thing w Nicki Minaj or whatever award show it was, but please remember she has apologized for BOTH of those and has tried to better herself since.) and somehow she’s just this completely irredeemable piece of complete and utter trash who deserves nothing that she has worked so hard for, and she should be dead because she’s done nothing to help anybody literally ever (conveniently ignoring the 50 thousand dollars she gave Kesha for legal fees, the time and money she’s donated to fans who needed her and needed help, the money donated to women’s shelters and sexual assault helplines, and the fact that her music alone has stopped probably thousands of young girls from killing themselves because they felt like someone out there understood because of what she does, myself included, and all the other wonderful stuff she does)

BUT on the opposite end we have fucking Kanye, who’s currently FORTY (40) years old, who is a RAGING misogynist, condoned Chris Brown abusing Rhianna, created naked wax figures of celebrities for a music video (including Taylor, Rhianna, Nicki Minak and his ex Amber Rose) WITHOUT their consent, secretly had his partner record a private conversation of only PART of the lyrics about Taylor in Famous to have ‘receipts’ in case she got upset about being called a Bitch so he could claim she knew what he was doing, constantly belittles literally anyone who isn’t him, accused Jay-Z of having assassins out for him, tried to make Mark Zuckerberg give him money by harassing him on social media, AND, finally, belittled the accomplishments of a SIXTEEN (16) year old Taylor Swift when he was THIRTY (30) years old, literally fucking jumped up on-stage to tell a TEENAGER that she didn’t deserve an award she worked her ass off for, as a fucking GROWN MAN, a man FOURTEEN years older than her hoped up onto a stage, ripped the biggest moment of her life out of her hands, and you know what he gets? Laughs, praise, he gets treated like a God among men by half the goddamn world and he doesn’t deserve it. If anyone doesn’t deserve the fame and recognition they have it’s him. 

I’m not sure where this rant came from, but this has been annoying me for so long and I just needed to get that out there.

I will stan Taylor Swift my whole life long. Sorry not sorry.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story  - Part 24

 - 

Ava joined our group of friends in the winter of 02′ and for some part of my life, she became my best friend. She had spent the last year since she had moved from Moscow being a part of the popular group of girls in our class and i had never said anything to her at all. She was bored of those girls I think, or had gone through them all one at a time till they were done with her. She never fit in with them, since she was heavy. We were all amused as she told us all about how strange and insecure the popular girls actually were when they were home. It made me feel normal. Ava was incredibly funny and energetic, almost too much. She was an addictive character you don’t meet everyday and could really throw you off course – in a good way most of the time, but if you were around her too long, your identity would begin to disappear. She could break people's resolve very easily, which is why I became friends with her so quickly, when ordinarily I am the sort of person who takes a lot of time to make new friends. She would give you that feeling you might get when you have been laughing hysterically for hours with people, and everything seems funny to you and you have kind of lost grip of yourself and something feels wrong but your brain is filled with happy dope. 

It had it's pros and cons. We ended up getting along great since we were both very strange. I would come up with some insane comedy routine and ideas - i would make up characters and scenarios, and Ava would just pull out this insane impromptu reactions and additions i would never think of or would not imagine being acted out in such a way to what I had said, and people legitimately thought we were both completely insane. Something was always greedy and gleeful in her eyes - a little crazy. She had a way of demanding attention. I remember I was quite nervous to reach out and try to befriend her, but I called her and she instantly took well to it. I don’t think i had ever gotten so close to another person that fast.

Ava lived in the hills above Kendrick, miles away from civilization, close enough to where she could have gone to the Moscow high school instead. For whatever reason she decided to attend Kendrick's school. Her father was a well known geologist. He worked at the University of Idaho, and the other half the time he was down in Brazil or Argentina or someplace doing rock stuff. The house they owned was pretty nice. It was old like my house was. But it was in the middle of a field that stretched as far as the eye could see. Going off the highway. You would drive onto one gravel road, that was really more of a farmer's road. You would drive for ten miles out into this field, and then you would take yet another more gravelly gravel road and drive another two miles, and you would be at her place. The surroundings were bleak. The home was well furnished. She had one older sister named Ana, but she was in college. A few dogs. 

Her mom was kind of distant and moody. I never really did understand that lady. She never seemed to leave the house, instead she would sit outside and look out at the fields listening to NPR until the sun went down. She was a retired social worker and she was unprofessional in that she told people her client’s secrets because she was kind of judgy that way.. In her youth, she had partied with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. Then she had moved to England for ten years, and eventually came back and settled in Moscow, before retiring to look out over the barren wheat fields. It didn't seem like she had any visitors. Once every couple of years she would travel to France or Italy. And maybe once every three months, she would attend another rich person's party. Ava always bragged that her mom was friends with Steve Miller. Yet, as much as I don't understand why she was here of all places, I suppose it really was a good thing elite liberal families to move to rural places like this. It fights back the culture of red solo cups, conservative values, and Kid Rock and the like.

Their home had two living rooms, and a sitting room. And all these other rooms. It was really a nice place. Ava had a lot of Italian and Greek in her blood, and their kitchen had a lot of Toulouse-Lautrec paintings and the like. There was also a smaller home off the property, a barn for her two horses, and this other little building that looked like a tattered barn, but inside it was actually an opulent mini mansion that was her father's study. It had bookshelves up to the ceiling, classy lighting. Years later I was watching the television show Hannibal, and it looked a little like Hannibal's office. And past that, there was this pond that was actually slimy and disgusting but I ended up swimming in it anyway that summer. It was filled to the brim with bold catfish who would try to eat you if you stayed still for too long. One of Ava's horses was named Molly. She was old, and pretty nice. The other one was this Arabian horse named Chimo. Chimo was the fucking devil. When Ava was showing me her barn one time, he galloped up to me, and he tried to bite my face with his big awful teeth. Ava always had to shove him away roughly for him to not try to hurt people. And then she would always tell you that he didn't mean it, and he would never hurt anyone – but yes, yes he would. He was the devil.

Despite Ava's nice house, I always grew bored and weary up there. For one thing, it was far out of the way of anything remotely fun. The store was twenty five miles back into Kendrick. There were no trees. The nearest neighbors were three miles away, and they were old farmers. Ava and her mom had a strange relationship. I didn't get it at all. Ava's mom might come up and ask Ava if she wanted some ice cream, in a very calm voice. Ava would fly off the handle FUCK YOU MOM! And then her mom would calmly walk away and say Okay Avaaaaah. She always said Ava's name really long. Then, Ava would make a small mistake like accidentally rip a page in a book, and her mom would freak out at   her, call her a fat cow and fly into this rage over something that seemed to me as incredibly petty. But then, if Ava accidentally burned down a barn – she didn't do this, but she was very unruly and did a lot of things like this – her mom would just sigh and would not reprimand her in any way. I didn't get it. I think it made Ava a little crazy. On one hand, she was spoiled rotten, and on the other, her mom was at random intervals, verbally abusive.

Ava's dad was nice when he was around – which was infrequently, but very loopy to me. I had heard that he had some kind of mental disorder that had made him dangerous, but was now treated so long as he took his medication. He always seemed a bit off, but I understand it's the price you pay when you have a mental illness sometimes. He had had a rough life. He had been disowned by his family. They had made all their money on illegal cheating on horse racing back in the early 20th century, and had sided with Hitler in Nazi Germany, and were a part of the Nazi party themselves when WW2 happened. His mother had been a Nazi youth who had met Hitler. And they still agreed with the Nazis to this day. Ava's dad had tried to become a painter, and they had scoffed at him and took his funding away. He hated his family, understandably and never spoke to them again. I think he probably had Bipolar. I can't say for certain, but he seemed to be that way. Ava was larger like him, she had his dark hair, and his thicker build.

I would get uncomfortable at Ava's house because she would ask you what you wanted to do, and then when you said something she didn't want to hear she started getting aggravated and upset and before you know it she would start calling herself a stupid bitch over and over. So, you would feel nervous, stuck up in the hills, not being able to casually go home, with Ava, her mother and father all in their strange modes. Ava was also OBSESSED with Orlando Bloom. Ava jumped from crush to crush pretty frequently, but Orlando Bloom was god to her. She had posters of him all over her wall, some as Legolas and others not, as well as one of Heath Ledger in A Knight's Tale. She went to see Lord of the Rings herself probably forty times. And she wrote Orlando Bloom about three times a week. He never wrote her back. Over the course of that winter, she was becoming more and more depressed, as though he were her husband and he was willfully ignoring her. In her mind, she was meant to be with Orlando Bloom. There could be no other way. When Ava didn't get her way, or felt bad about herself at all, this dark cloud would descend and she would begin accusing everyone of hating her. It was strange to be accused of hating her because Orlando Bloom was not writing her back.

As it happened, there was this senior in the school named Brandon who looked like Orlando Bloom in the vaguest of ways. He was probably the coolest kid to have gone to Kendrick high school. He ended up meeting an Irish girl and moving to Ireland. Ava liked him also, but it was really just a surrogate kind of deal. His mother had a party one time, and she and her mother had been invited. At this party, she met this guy who knew some of the people who had worked on set with the LOTR cast, and he himself had auditioned for the role of Legolas. He had seen Orlando come on set. She was absolutely crazy about this connection and was dearly hoping it would bring her closer to Orlando Bloom.

She ate a lot. She actually ate more than me. She would eat three bowls of cereal, an omelet, two sandwiches, a wheel of cheese, three large cups of milk, ten cookies, and a gallon of ice cream in one go. I felt awkward and tried to eat all this with her but despite the fact that I had a large appetite myself, I was floored at the end of the omelet. But if you stopped eating, she would start calling herself fat and being really awkward and start saying you were calling her fat, so you had to eat. And sometimes at school, she would get really upset about how heavy she was. She would throw tantrums at Sarah and Katie because they were tiny and didn't understand what it meant to be fat. Eventually, I remember in an attempt to even things out, I was like 'Ava, I am fat too. I think if I was going to lose weight I would probably need to go on a diet. We aren't born with the same bodies'. This was the first time I had ever suggested to myself that I needed a diet, and it also made Ava furious at me for a short time.

She also had a few ingrown hairs (often happens to girls with course dark hair) on her legs, and she would pick at these ingrown hairs till they were scabs. Any blemish that was on her body, besides her face she would pick at till they bled. So for a time, she was covered in scabs. And she thought she had a disease. But we all watched her pick at them. I think Ava was suffering from a personality disorder at the time. And she would call herself ugly, and she wasn't ugly in the least. She had a gorgeous face, and in a certain angle she could look like Gwen Stephani a little bit. It really was hard to be her friend sometimes. I really liked her because she was very fun, and dynamic and interesting. She was probably the most likeable person I had ever met up to that point. Adults hated her because she was unruly and she would always accidentally break things. She got complained about for yelling. But it was so funny you really could not tell her to stop.

Ava first befriended Katie, and this was the beginning of the eventual undoing of Katie. Katie was gullible. Ava and Katie hung out a bunch together. There was one time where Katie chewed Ava out, when Ava foolishly grabbed Katie's rifle and began pointing it at everyone. Katie took the rifle away and was very angry. To Katie's credit, she was and probably still is as responsible as a person can be with a deadly weapon. But other than that, she sort of singled Katie out, and befriended her for about a month. They ran around learning Middle Earth language. When she got Katie alone and in a trusting situation, she started telling Katie that Samantha and Sarah were against her, and probably me too, but honestly nobody ever went against me because perhaps I was too small a fish. Nothing was actually going on of course. Nobody hated Katie. Ava was taking small things and making them huge and embellishing on them to turn Katie against us and make her act out. Ava was in her own way, intentionally wrecking the group so she could dominate it. Katie was a gullible trusting person and she believed every word of this nonsense. So there was this bizarre weekend where Katie and Ava were together and sending angry emails to Sarah and Samantha. I sat drawing at the table, not really sure what the hell everyone was so mad about.

When Ava had Katie good and upset, she then turned on Katie and came back to Sarah's side. I really didn't see it like this then. It took me a few years later to track all of Ava's moves and fully realize the game. This left Katie feeling mistrustful and permanently alone. Poor Katie stopped smiling and would sometimes walk away from us upset. I tried to talk to her, but she would just say she was depressed. I don't think she even understood what had happened, or ever questioned Ava's intent or that she might have been lying.

Katie also started getting mad because she felt that Ava and Sarah had both at times drawn realistic art, and Katie felt that realism was hers. This only made her seem more ridiculous to Sarah, who wasn't really interested in realistic art at the time. We couldn't help but make jokes when we turned on Public Television and Bob Ross would be painting something realistic. 'Oh look, he's stealing from Katie. He can't do that!' Katie's mom also didn't want me to come over to visit ever again when I accidentally tracked mud on their carpet. So it was hard for me at least, to get Katie alone so I could ask what was wrong. Ava in the mean time was now going to befriend Sarah. Samantha wasn't really buying any of this. She didn't think Ava was as funny as we thought she was, and Sam at this time was starting to care more about boys (will get into this later). So now Ava was kind of the dominant leader of Sarah and me. Not completely, but kind of.

Honestly, sometimes I just kind of wanted it to just be Sarah and I again. Neither one of us really started problems that bad. Since Sarah had stopped insulting me, we got along great. We would spend hours playing Final Fantasy 9 or Zelda for 64, eating popcorn and chocolate covered raisins or draw and talk about our comics. We would stay up late and ask each other questions about the boys we liked. There was never any conflict. It wasn't easy, but I would generally try to tell her if I was upset with her. And we both pondered about life just a little more thoughtfully, and had the same strange experiences. One time, Sarah and I were talking on the phone and someone in her basement picked up the basement phone and said something to us. It was a man's voice. We could tell it was her phone because there was this certain way that it clicked when it came on that was distinct. But there was nobody downstairs. The doors were all locked, and you could look and see the doors from the upstairs. Things like that always happened to Sarah and I.

Samantha had become very infatuated with some guy named Samuel who lived in Texas. She had met him on a chatroom. She was intent on marrying him. Andy no longer meant much to her. Around this same time, there was an assembly, because we had this guest theater group from Lewiston come to do a show. Basically, it was like, three stories of twenty-odd year old actors and actresses acting like they were teenagers in 'teen' situations. One took drugs, one drove drunk and the other got pregnant. They were these highly emotional, highly charged scenes of fighting and internal dialogue until the worst of the worst was upon them. And the actors would scream and cry. In the end, the druggy one overdosed and almost died, the drunk driving teen accidentally got into an accident and killed someone, and the pregnant teenager was all well, pregnant. And in the end, the actors/actresses would cry out THIS IS REAL! This Is Real Life, and they would convince you for a few moments that they were just acting out what had actually happened. We were all blown away at the time, but it was actually rather corny.

Anyway, after this, they basically said at one point that teenagers were not capable of being in love. Which is bullshit. But that was their argument for abstinence. So, Samantha did something I did not expect. She stood up and boldly argued that they were wrong before the whole school. It really became a debate that the actors and actresses lost. Sam really broke it down. At first, I had just kind of assumed the actors were right, and then she addressed it by breaking it down to what they meant, and in a way that made me realize that I had been wrong. It was really an interesting moment for me, and I really admired her bravery. So I called Sam after school to tell her what a great job I had thought she had done, and also that I really believed in her relationship with this Samuel fellow. We got to talking, and we had not been that close since kindergarten, honestly. She started complaining about Sarah though. And once she started, she could not stop. It was really strange. All these years, Sam had disliked me, and liked Sarah. Now, she was fond of me and she hated Sarah secretly. It was all very strange to me. She complained about some really small stuff. There was one time where Sarah's breath had smelled, and she had told Sarah, and Sarah had said she had eaten garlic that morning. Sam was adamant that Sarah had been lying, and had in fact, not brushed her teeth. She was REALLY mad because she felt that Sarah had scratched her Eminem Show cd. After awhile, she was starting to sound obsessed with bashing on Sarah. And of course, I was told not to tell anyone

I kind of broke down and told Sarah. I felt like it was only fair for Sarah to address herself to Samantha. It didn't seem healthy for Sam to vent at me, and I didn't want to hate Sarah. So I told Sarah, who would talk to Sam about it, and I knew that Sam would be furious at me for having told Sarah what she had said (that might be the most 8th gradery sentence I have written in awhile). And so for that very brief time, Sam and I were friends again, but it was over before it ever really began, and we went back to mild tolerance for the rest of the time I knew her. I probably did the right thing, but heck, it doesn't matter anymore. And who but I would hold onto such pointless information?

School dragged along. There was a Drug Free after school club that was started for the seventh, eighth, and ninth grade. Kyle joined, my friends did, and so I did too. We had to take a pee test to prove we were drug free. The class was mostly an excuse for all of us to get together and cook up fried Twinkies and snicker bars every two weeks. Mrs. Kerrick had started it. I liked Mrs. Kerrick, though we were never really all that close. She taught both my math and earth science classes. She was pretty competent when it came to teaching. But people laughed at her because she was very heavy, and she dressed somewhat provocatively. I never really cared, but she also flirted with the teenage boys. It got to be pretty carried away. She would insinuate things. Anyway, I eventually got kicked out of the Drug Free thing.

The reason for that was, that in earth science we were all supposed to group up with the person sitting nearest to us and take chemicals and make them crystallize. It had something to do with learning about the earths molten rocks that dried. Everyone was kind of rowdy. I ended up with Karlie (as you will remember her as the unwell girl from 7th who used to talk to me). Karlie and I paired up, and Mrs. Kerrick told us all very seriously that we were not for any reason at all, to drink or eat any of the chemicals in the box. But as we all worked on making our crystal things, I looked over, and there was Zack, taking spoonfuls of this stuff and drinking it in the hopes I imagine of getting high. I thought that was pretty funny, so for shock value, I pretended to Karlie that I had drank the poison as well. Obviously it wasn't poisonous else Zack would have keeled over, and I just was making a joke. I hadn't taken any of it in, I just moved the spoon away from my mouth to make it seem as though I had taken a bite.

Karlie said OH MY GOD! YOU DRANK IT! And I hadn't. I assured her I was joking, but she ran up to the desk and pointed at me and told Mrs. Kerrick something, and then Mrs. Kerrick looked fatigued and panicked and she ran me into the hallway and said we were going to have to call some poison control people and take me to the emergency room. It took everything I had just to convince her that I had been joking. She barely believed me, but gave in due to it being her worst nightmare. It really gave her a fright, and I felt very embarrassed. She gave me a detention anyway – which I took, because it would at least be a new packet other than Ten O'clock Tim or whatever, and told me not to come to the next Drug Free party. I suppose I could have gone anyway, and she would not have kicked me out. I could have gone to the one after that, but I just decided to quit. I wasn't mad at her at all. She was just honestly panicked, quite understandably. The joke was harmless, but it was dumb. And as far as I know, Zack never died, despite eating the stuff like pudding. I never knew if he got high off it though.

I asked Karlie why she hadn't told on Zack. She didn't say much. I think it was probably because she had a crush on him. Rumor has it, she had written this twelve page fan fiction of Zack having bizarre standing up sex on the beach with her. Someone had stolen it from Karlie and gave it to Zack. I could tell that she was sort of crazy about him by the way that she looked at him all the time.

If you would like to read my whole life story so far, here are all the parts i have written 

PART 23 - http://tinyurl.com/yac6sk3g

PART 22 -  http://tinyurl.com/yat6cfnw

PART 21 -  http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw  

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8